:: Denotes comms
vvvvvvvvv Denotes scene breaks
oooooooooo Denotes breaks within a scene
~Chapter 20~
I am so late.
Maggie hurried down the large hallway towards Prime's office, a thick folder tucked into one arm, mentally reviewing her weekly report. Hair tucked up and blouse tucked in, the silver Rubik's cube swayed gently on its chain with her movements. Long legs in tight jeans, a little more casual than her usual work outfits, solely because Jazz couldn't stop fondling her in them, and that had led to a round of…
Maggie blushed, skin still tingling from the press of his field, her body pleasantly sore from the press of his…
Her knees wobbled, steadily clicking heels faltered a little.
Focus, Maggie, she told herself sternly as she entered the office. Optimus was already there, ready to give her a lift up to the towering desktop.
"Thank you," she murmured, a little breathless, and took a seat on the chair he always thoughtfully provided for her. "Sorry I'm late, Optimus."
"There is no need for apology," Optimus said, "Jazz informed me you were running late and that he was at fault."
Maggie's cheeks flamed. She ducked her head, shuffling through the pages of her suddenly fascinating weekly report.
Optics glimmered, the deep rumble gently amused. "Whenever you are ready, Maggie."
"Oh, I… uhhh.. yessir."
She took a deep breath and launched in.
"Parameters are normal, frequencies normal…"
Another average report.
"I'll continue testing the security detection grid as soon as Ironhide and Jazz have finished with…"
Completely routine.
"The repairs to the military satellite were successful…"
Nothing fascinating at all.
"…comms traffic resumed once the relays were up and running again..."
Honestly, the job would be boring except for…
"…the signals from our team remain undetected, but…"
She moaned as Jazz teased her, sliding one large finger slowly along her…
Prime was looking at her. "But?"
Maggie blushed and yanked her brain back to business.
The last item in her report, and the only one she had flagged as potentially troublesome.
"There is something you should be aware of," she began, a little cautiously. "The frequency of a very specific signal coming from the Middle East has increased."
Prime's helm tilted. "Enough to be detected?"
"Not for the moment. It's a standard signal on the regular military channels, nothing that would stand out as Cybertronian. It's the data rate that's increasing. My concern is, if that trend were to continue, someone who's paying attention might start digging for the target, and that is—"
"Is unusual, to say the least."
Maggie nodded. The very last thing Sarah Lennox needed was the FBI raiding her ranch.
"Should I pass this along, Optimus?"
Prime sat back, fingerpads drumming for a brief instant.
"Since the target is not well known for accepting redirection with any sort of grace or decorum…" Prime paused, a corner of his mouthplates twitching.
Maggie muffled a laugh.
"It would be best to let me handle that. Should the data rate increase to a level you feel might raise suspicion, please inform me and I will bring the matter to the attention of the appropriate party in the appropriate manner."
She grinned. "Yessir, I will."
Prime's optics flickered suspiciously; Maggie swore it was a wink.
vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv
"I see it, that has ta be it."
"Agreed." At last. Ratchet scrubbed a weary hand over faceplates. "Barricade, please remove the block on these sectors so I can resume repairs."
His request was met with a blank stare.
::Query: What block?::
Ratchet imaged the sectors and pinged the file, only to have it bounce right back. He sighed. "We really need to get at those comms. Jazz, would you mind?"
Barricade tilted his helm.
::I do not understand.::
"No problem, Ratch. Here, 'Cade, right here." Jazz projected the image file and highlighted the blocks, currently greyed out and inaccessible. "Ya've got a block on these last ones we need ta get at."
They watched as optics flickered and then Barricade shook his helm.
::No..::
Ratchet huffed. Jazz brightened the image and traced a fingerpad over the sectors.
"Just drop it and we'll do the rest. Come on, my mech, I know ya want ta get back ta your old self."
Optics flickered again, along with an audible whine from Barricade's engine.
::No block.::
"Right, we don't want the block," Jazz coaxed, "now can ya remove it so the doc here can get ya fixed up?"
Red optics fixed on the image, the Decepticon's frame tensed.
Jazz hummed sympathy; he could only imagine the struggle Barricade faced trying to access core sectors with damaged processors.
"If we can just get them open," he murmured.
"That will be everything, all that's left," Ratchet finished for him, watching Barricade closely.
His optics flickered and dimmed, a visible tremor worked through his frame, and then Barricade shook his helm again, a frustrated snarl rattling his engine.
"Come on, 'Cade—" Jazz began.
Ironhide's growl echoed right over the comm.
::What in the Pit is going on there? Barricade is throwing a fit and it's giving me a Cybertron sized processor ache.::
"Not sure yet, 'Hide. Tryin' ta get past this last block and 'Cade's not bein' too cooperative."
The distant sound of swearing was followed by an irritated snort.
::Of course he's not. ETA ten clicks.::
"Wait." Ratchet swept a hand over the holo image, a sudden sinking feeling in his tank.
"Barricade, what do you see here?"
One claw lifted, lightly tracing all the accessible sectors, then dropped.
Jazz and Ratchet exchanged looks.
"Well, that's not good."
"Not at all. I was afraid that might be the problem."
"If we can't get past that block?"
"Then he has no access to higher level planning and reasoning or the rest of his cognitive subroutines, limited linguistic algorithms, and only one way comms for the foreseeable future. Barely two steps above a drone for all intents and purposes."
Ratchet looked utterly defeated. Jazz hummed and turned back to Barricade. "One more try, please? Try hard, as hard as ya can; it's there and we need—"
::No!:: Barricade raised his hand, claws swiping at the image. Optics shaded to deep burning red, his engine redlined with a furious roar. ::No block!::
"What's happening?"
Three helms swiveled as Mikaela hurried into the Medbay. Ratchet's optics narrowed.
"You are supposed to be sleeping."
"I felt—I mean, I heard Barricade, he's upset."
She stumbled over her words and then shifted awkwardly from foot to foot on the cold Medbay floor, not quite meeting the medic's pinned optics, and oh shit, there she was definitely not in proper clothes to be in here, nothing but her usual sleepwear, cami and boyshorts and no shoes and- Shit.
Jazz's lifted an optic ridge, a speculative look rippling sudden color through his silver visor. Barricade's engine roar modulated to a rough purr. His sudden lurch towards Mikaela caught everyone by surprise, and then Jazz had a shoulder into him.
Mikaela watched, apprehensive, but Barricade did not fight, only let the smaller mech ease him back, a rapid stream of electronic noises from Jazz as he alternately coaxed and commanded.
Barricade dropped to his knees, startling everyone again, and then slowly reached out one hand towards Mikaela, purr deepening and rattling through chestplates.
::He's calming down. Whatever you're doing, it's working.::
"Ain't our doin', 'Hide," Jazz spoke up, optics intent on the pair.
A warm welcome was wrapping itself around her, undertones of that same sensual touch flickering over her skin. Mikaela's eyelids fluttered; she shivered.
"Well, ain't that somethin'," Jazz murmured. He glanced at Ratchet for confirmation and grimaced. Uh oh.
Ratchet was staring, disbelief morphing into appalled outrage and fear as he activated scanners and saw Barricade's field closing over Mikaela, watched Mikaela start to glow with it, start to respond to it-to him.
"WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?!"
Ratchet shook, fists clenched at his sides. He had done this, he was to blame. He taught her how to repair him, let her work on him, told her he was her patient too, encouraged her, put her within reach of him and how could he have missed this, how could he have been so blind?
Because Barricade was still not right, still unsteady, barely any fine motor control and those deadly, flashing claws could rip her to shreds with the slightest miscalculated move or tremor and oh Primus he was close enough now to touch her…
"Mikaela, don't move." A bare whisper of sound passed Ratchet's vocalizer; anguished fear poured out in waves through his field.
"Doc, hey doc… Ratchet, take it easy." Jazz reached out a soothing hand, his own field pushing for calm. The medic didn't respond, didn't even look at him. Jazz took a hold of his arm and shook it. "Ratchet, look at Barricade!"
The medic blinked, rousing out of whatever processor loop he was caught in. Jazz patted his arm. "They're ok, Ratch."
Barricade had drawn back and away from Mikaela at the first touch of Ratchet's field. Anxious queries were pinging at both mechs.
::Not safe? Warning? Danger?::
::Now what?:: Ironhide grumbled.
"A pint-sized little beauty of a monkey wrench just got thrown inta the works here," Jazz answered, visor rippling rainbow colors of amusement. Half of it flashed to black as he winked down at Mikaela. She blushed and ducked her head. Barricade purred.
oooooooooooooooooooo
"Frag," Ironhide muttered and shook his helm. "Never seen anything like it. That block's not budging, not even with my help."
"My hack's just slidin' right off, can't find a crack to slip in anywhere. Any other ideas, doc?"
Ratchet had managed to pull his scrambled processors together enough to scan Mikaela and Barricade, dully surprised at his findings.
Barricade was only too happy to have both Ironhide and Mikaela together in the same room. The rage of only moments ago had vanished. He alternately trilled to his Guardian and purred to the human, pleasure rippling through his field. The Decepticon had managed to lock down all motor functions, channeling everything into fine motor control. As damaged as he was, it was a daunting task, and spoke of a powerful motivator for Barricade to even attempt it.
Ratchet was afraid he was staring right at it.
One large claw carefully extended to Mikaela under Ironhide's watchful optic, blade edge turned away. Mikaela stroked it gently. His hand curled loosely around her.
Ratchet cringed at those deadly claws so close to her, but Mikaela continued petting the large claw, answering Barricade with hums.
He was calm, he was handling the human with care, he obeyed Ironhide's commands and was remarkably responsive to Mikaela.
None of that helped with Ratchet's guilt and fear. He had put her in danger, and every instinct he possessed was sounding the alarm.
"Ratch, any ideas?" Jazz repeated.
He managed to push the warnings down enough to set his processors to scouring through his database.
Blocks. Failsafes. Protection. Failsafes were all about protecting core sectors, preventing the mech from being reprogrammed. But failsafes that deep were almost always two way: Protect the mech while he was in danger, then once the danger was past, reverse it and reintegrate those core sectors with basic functions. So, how to reverse the process? A bond was one way. Get the bonded in the same room and the failsafe blocks often simply crumbled away, given time and patience. But what if the mech had no bonded? There had to be some condition, something similar that would allow for the same resolution.
If there was an answer, it was on that path.
"Possibly," Ratchet finally answered. "But first, Ironhide, I would like your assessment of them please. Is this a bond?"
"Just a moment."
His field sank in deep, Barricade's optics flickered and dimmed.
Show me, Barricade.
Yes, Guardian.
Mikaela twitched and shivered, and Ironhide saw it clearly, Barricade reaching out with his field to touch the human and connect with her biofield. Incredible that they had missed this completely, but to be fair, no one had looked for it either. Barricade had never appeared to be in any shape to do anything remotely like this.
Ironhide frowned heavily, a disapproving rumble and silent scold for the Decepticon.
You had a connection, and still you reached for me?
Not enough, Guardian.
Ironhide inclined his helm, acknowledging the lack. It was true, the human biofield would not have been enough to help him heal.
He reached out and tapped his charge's shoulder plate with a large finger, sending a warning through his field.
But enough to keep you stable. You owe her, Barricade. Do not forget.
Barricade rumbled, field once again reaching for the human.
The little one is MINE.
For a Decepticon, maybe that was enough. Ironhide huffed and glanced down at Mikaela, noting the little shiver as once again Barricade staked his claim.
Mikaela was looking up at him, a curious blend of apprehension and anticipation on her face.
"What is it?"
"Not a bond, not yet anyway, but definitely a connection."
Ratchet dropped his helm into his hands. "This is my fault."
"No, it's mine." After Ironhide's rejection, Barricade had reached out in pain and desperation to any compatible field near him. The only surprise was that it was Mikaela.
::Not your fault, medic, stop blaming yourself.::
Ratchet's helm lifted, optics dim, regret tinging his field, but the snap through comms was familiar and far better than watching him wallow in guilt.
::Fine, I'll blame you.::
::Go right ahead.::
Ironhide didn't regret his decision, nor did he think he would have changed it if he could. It was what it was, but that did leave a problem for the present.
He rumbled a little, setting a scan to monitor Barricade's field. Whatever was going on here would bear watching. "Mikaela, tell me everything you can about Barricade."
Mikaela nodded and rested both hands on Barricade, fingers edging nervously over the fine plating of his palm.
"I felt him, just faintly at first, then it got stronger. Like a pull, calling to me. He didn't want me to leave, so I would stay and keep him company. He… he wanted me, needed me. Only me."
She couldn't look at them, voice low, color high on her cheeks, not about to reveal the hours upon hours she spent polishing him, just to bask in that glow of want, or the other night on her cot, shivering with his touch.
The sudden burst of pheromones had Jazz and Ironhide trading looks and Ratchet glaring at Barricade. The Decepticon's purr deepened, intakes drawing in deep, savoring that exotic scent on the air.
Jazz cleared his vocalizer noisily. "Well then."
"Please," Mikaela pleaded, face scarlet and beyond mortified. "I need help communicating with Barricade?"
Ironhide snorted faintly. "Agreed. The sooner the better."
"First things first. We need that block down," Ratchet snapped. With the block down, he could finish repairs, restore everything, and Barricade would be stabilized. Until that happened, Mikaela would not be safe.
Light glinted off those claws curving around her. Ratchet shuddered.
"Not a bond, not yet…"
Whatever this was, it was not enough to lower that block. If Mikaela was not the answer-will not be the answer, part of the medic growled-and Ironhide's healing bond was not enough, then they needed another kind of bond.
His optics snapped to Ironhide just as his processors delivered up the object of their search.
"Anchor bond."
"Ho, boy," Jazz muttered.
"Frag me. Sideways. With an I-beam." Ironhide slapped a hand over his faceplates and dragged it down. "You have got to be kidding me."
"I think it's his only chance," Ratchet insisted.
Jazz shook his helm, doubtful. "That's askin' a lot for somethin' we can't be sure of. What if there isn't anythin' left behind that block? He was out ta purge everythin'."
"He initiated the purge, but I'm confident I stopped it before it reached this far. Otherwise, we would have found nothing but an eroded block and corrupted sectors." Ratchet traced fingers over the hologram, following the clearly defined boundary protecting Barricade's core. "That is obviously not the case here. That block is solid and completely intact."
Ratchet's gaze dropped to Mikaela, leaning against Barricade's hand, within the circle of his claws.
One tremor, one twitch, the slightest miscalculation of a movement…
Fear coiled tightly in his core. The last thing in the universe Ironhide would want was to get even closer to Barricade but the sooner the block was down, the better.
::Ironhide, please? For Mikaela's sake?::
His field reached out, adding to the plea.
Ironhide stared down at Barricade. The Decepticon appeared completely absorbed with Mikaela. Fascinated. Fixated, even, and Mikaela seemed equally drawn to him. They definitely had a problem.
Not 'they.' Him. His responsibility, his problem.
Oblivious, Barricade's sole focus was the small being in his hand. He made no attempt to touch, content with Guardian's order to remain still, but Guardian had not said anything about his field. The little one petted and stroked and hummed to him, and Barricade purred, delighted at the shivers he evoked with every touch of his field.
The sound was rough, rattling his chestplates like tin cans on a string.
Jazz winced. "He still needs some work."
Ironhide nodded slowly. "I'll have to talk to Sarah first. The time commitment will be considerable, but if she's agreeable to bringing him onto the Lennox property, I can keep him close at night and bring him back here to the Medbay during the day."
"I'm coming with him," Mikaela spoke up, and all optics turned to her again.
"I don't think that's a good idea. While he's like this, you're not safe." Ratchet knelt, a hand extending to her. "Please, Mikaela."
Barricade chose exactly the wrong time to snarl, baring fangs at the medic as his hand came close.
MINE!
Mikaela froze.
Ironhide winced, the protest roaring through bond and field. "Ratchet, back off."
"Please," he added, thanking Primus that Ratchet was far more worried about Mikaela than ready to get into a knock down drag out with the Decepticon.
"Come on, doc, let 'Hide work his magic." Ratchet stood, clearly unhappy but allowing Jazz to tug him up and away.
Barricade, you are scaring the little one. Stop.
Yes, Guardian.
Dark angry red optics dropped back to Mikaela, rapidly lightening as they refocused on her. Mikaela relaxed. Barricade's rough grating purr resumed.
Ironhide crouched down, observing the pair. Barricade's claws around her had not moved, not even a micrometer, not even reacting to Ratchet.
He reached a hand out. This time, Barricade showed no reaction, not even when Ironhide touched a fingerpad lightly to Mikaela's shoulder.
"Alright," he nodded, satisfied. "MIkaela, you can come with him on one condition. You will obey my orders. I tell you to step away, you step away. I tell you to run, you run. No hesitation, no questions, and no arguments. Understood?"
"Understood." Mikaela leaned into Barricade's palm, meshed in tight to whatever contact the Decepticon was initiating. Her eyelids fluttered.
::Mikaela hates fields,:: Jazz tight-beamed, ::whatever this is must feel awfully good.::
Ironhide grunted. ::Probably the least of our worries right now.::
Ratchet's field brushed against his, agitated and worried and full of 'what ifs.' That last most of all, was what made him an excellent medic, all the possibilities of what if this, and what if that, and how to head off whatever crisis the medic could usually see coming a megamile away.
Sometimes though, all that worry was just going to wear out his processors.
"I'll talk to Sarah." Ironhide sighed and extended his field, strong currents of calm and comfort wrapping around the medic.
::And then I'll see what I can do. For both of them.::
vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv
Sam tossed and turned and mumbled in his sleep. Bumblebee sighed and rocked gently, the telltale signs of the shards waking up from dormancy all too familiar by now. Whatever the strange Prime had done had left Bumblebee with the ability to see them. Pinpoints of blue light showed on his scanners, heart and lungs and liver and deep in Sam's brain. A blue haze formed around the sleeping boy, his very skin starting to glow with shard energy. If any of the other Autobots ever saw that…
Keep him hidden, keep him safe…
Feed them…
Bumblebee set his field up and let it flare like a beacon. The blue haze reached; he shivered when it connected.
The sensation tingled over metal skin, sent a pleasant buzz through his spark. It was the Allspark after all, they were compatible, with energy that could transfer directly. He could only imagine how the shards must have hurt Sam, the torturous conversion from chemical biological energy slowly breaking down every organ in his body.
He waited patiently. The steady drain usually lowered energy levels enough that he fell into a light recharge. Recharge always brought dreams, and Bumblebee sank into them gratefully.
Warm breath, the whisper of his name, hands touching him, familiar and possessive. His spark flared; Bumblee's engine roared. Sam's head fell back on a moan, spark energy wreathing him in blue fire, orgasm and overload taking them both...
He was never sure if these were his longings or Sam's dreams or some combination of the two, but they were sharing them on some level, Bumblebee was sure. Mikaela had been right, and Bumblebee could still feel guilty about that, but it couldn't stop his spark yearning, listening to Sam's moans, an ocean of want between them.
Processors blinked a slow warning at him.
Recharge cycle required.
Bumblebee hunkered down, letting the shards draw from his field like tiny energy vampires. They demanded more each time, the process leaving him drained and tired afterwards.
At least it would not kill him.
At least Sam was safe, for now.
vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv
It was with a profound sense of relief that Optimus exited the Base, followed by only a two-man escort.
General Morshower had promised to ease his restrictions, but Optimus was still surprised at the lengths the General had gone to in a show of good faith.
The contingent of soldiers currently assigned to the Base, aloof, unfriendly, a few outright hostile, had been steadily rotated out. The newly arriving soldiers had each, to a man, taken pains to introduce themselves to the Autobots and made sincere offers of 'anything you need, just let our C.O. know."
To Prime, they offered crisp salutes and a respectful 'Sir,' which Optimus was inclined to ask them to drop until Jazz argued him out of it.
"They already know who's in charge here, boss. You need the reminder that you are in charge here."
Optimus could not find any flaw in that logic. It was good to feel he had some control in the situation again.
The large Peterbilt pulled off the road and headed to the low rise. Optimus transformed and stood, giving a puzzled glance to his escort, still out on the road. The jeep had pulled over onto the shoulder but made no move to follow him. The men leaned against the side of the vehicle, talking quietly. The tiny red glowing tip of a cigarette brightened and dimmed.
Prime turned back, moving slowly, heavy tread and crunching soil giving plenty of warning.
"Is something wrong, gentlemen?"
Both soldiers had turned to watch him approach. Now, they exchanged looks before one of them spoke up.
"No sir, just giving you some privacy, sir."
Prime's helm tilted.
"Thank you, I appreciate that."
Optimus moved back up to the top of the small rise again. The soldiers were relaxed but alert, guns holstered, no fear, just respect.
::Remarkable.::
"Allies, Optimus,"General Morshower said firmly over the comm, "I meant what I said."
::I appreciate the courtesy, General.::
"Just let me know if anyone steps out of line, though I don't expect any problems. Every soldier was thoroughly vetted before they were allowed to step foot on your Base."
Your Base. Amazing how a few simple words could change so much. Still…
Prime sighed heavily. ::Your efforts are most appreciated, General, however, I fear the problem of a treaty remains unchanged. We will not share our weapons or any technology that can be used against us. I find it frustrating that the negotiations have stalled on this one point, when there is so much else we could offer your world."
"I have my suspicions. My guess would be whoever changed Captain Lennox's orders about that drone is behind this as well."
::I'm afraid I agree with you. Your efforts may be for nothing, I see no solution to this for the present.::
"Your weapons specialist is sharing his intel about the drone with us, you've shared intel about the Decepticons. You want to help. That's good enough for me, Optimus."
::Thank you, General. Perhaps in time, our alliance can be formalized into something useful.::
"I have a few ideas about that."
Optimus smiled at the hint of eagerness in the normally calm and business-like tones.
"As do I, General."
Prime remained at the spot a little longer after Morshower signed off. Getting out from behind four walls was always welcome, and the solitude (mostly) gave him a chance to clear his processors and assess their situation away from interruptions.
Beyond that, it was just peaceful. The air was clearer here than the cities, the stars hung large and glittering, the Milky Way a dark and glowing swath in the night sky.
Beautiful.
Optics found and traced the human-named patterns in the stars while processors ticked off tasks one by one.
Taurus... the Pleiades... Canis Major...
The drones still carving into the mountain required a maintenance check. Jazz or Ironhide could see to them. Ironhide was probably the better choice, he could help them along.
And perhaps a word to Ironhide, too; find out why Captain Lennox's contacts had increased. If there was any trouble ahead, Optimus wanted the General informed of it sooner, rather than later.
...Gemini, the celestial Twins, Castor and Pollux...
The next diplomatic call was scheduled for tomorrow. Prime's mouthplates drew tighter. He didn't expect any progress on that front at all.
Auriga, with Capella shining brightly...
The latest report on Barricade did show progress, but Ratchet was not satisfied. Not enough, never enough. Prime shook his helm a little, a fond smile easing the tightness. He worried too much, about all of them.
And Optimus had not worried nearly enough about Ratchet's well-being.
i"My Promised/i," Optimus murmured, chagrined that once again Ratchet was last on his to-do list. It had not always been so.
iOrion stood low on the horizon, three brilliant stars forming his shining belt. The Hunter, eternally pursuing... /i
A familiar ached started up. He raised a hand, rubbing at chestplates.
Supplies were beginning to run low again, and General Morshower was prepared to lighten his restrictions in the next few weeks.
Perhaps he could go and retrieve the cache himself, and invite Ratchet along. Give them a chance to clear the air, get back to where they needed to be.
His comm pinged Jazz's signal. Prime sighed.
::Yes, Jazz?::
::Sorry ta bother ya, Optimus, just wanted ta fill ya in on some developments with Barricade, if ya have time? Oh, and Ironhide needs your permission to take him off Base.::
Optimus raised an optic ridge. That sounded decidedly odd, and very unlike Ironhide.
::Alright, Jazz. My office in twenty.::
A last lingering look at the stars and then Prime turned and made his way back to the road. He should coax Ratchet out here. How long since the medic had taken a break, stepped outside the four walls of the Medbay?
The soldiers straightened and snapped him brisk salutes as he approached, then climbed into their vehicle.
Prime transformed. The Peterbilt rolled smoothly out onto the road and headed back to Base. His escort followed at a respectful distance.
vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv
The last few weeks searching for Skorponok had been hell. All flickers of activity were at the extreme edges of their search grids and Lennox was ready to strangle the techs, who were struggling to calibrate sensors on their little black S7 boxes for essentially a ghost. The ghost remained just far enough away to frustrate every effort, taunting them. Random accidents were happening with alarming frequency, and it was only getting more personal for Will. That bug needed to be caught yesterday, before they lost one more person to a rockslide, or a sinkhole, or any other manner of way to die in the desert.
The search range was extended, then extended again. That was a mistake, they were already stretched too thin. They needed more men, Lennox pleaded, arguing against the orders until he was certain he would get slapped down for insubordination.
The strain was starting to tell. He snapped a little oftener at Epps and apologized just as frequently. He was jumpy as hell, and a good night's sleep was a fond, distant memory. Anger and frustration and fear were deep and simmering, barely held below a boil. He contacted Ironhide more. A lot more.
And now this.
Lennox had left the CO's office barely hanging onto the dregs of his temper. There had still been a shouting match, but his CO was just as mystified and frustrated as he was.
"We've got our orders, Captain. Dis-missed." the CO gritted out, and the man was angry, angrier than Will had ever seen him. Lennox snapped a salute and turned to leave. His hand was on the doorknob when the low voice caught him. "My hands are tied, there's nothing I can do. I'm sorry, Will."
His knuckles whitened on the knob. "Me too, Colonel."
The call to inform Sarah was not fun at all. He listened to each stuttering bloop of the Skype ring honestly wondering if shooting the messenger when he was the messenger was technically suicide or not… Part of him was hoping that she would pick up so that he could truly explain some of what was happening… but at the same time he had no idea how to explain this without a simple litany of curses.
Half a world away, Sarah startled from her spot at the kitchen table with Ironhide's voice in her ear. He rumbled through the comm letting her know that Will was calling for her. Sarah all but leaped for the laptop.
"Hello? Will?"
What began as Schrodinger's skype call collapsed down to the reality of Sarah picking up. Will jumped and exhaled at the jittery image of her crouched in front of the webcam.
"Hey, my lady," he breathed, scrubbing at the throb in his temple.
"I wasn't expecting you so early, Annabelle's still napping."
"I was afraid it might not be the best time."
Her image fritzed and suddenly Sarah was sitting, the staticy image cleared enough for Will to recognize a familiar olive and black houndstooth pattern around her neck. He smiled and rubbed his thumb along the edge of the camera.
"Never did find my lucky scarf?" he asked, all teasing choirboy innocence. "You look wonderful, sweetheart."
Sarah's blush was beautiful. She fumbled with the fringe and glanced up, the screen freezing for a moment with her expression like a kid with their hand in the cookie jar.
"Oh-oh…" her image and voice stuttered before jumping and smoothing out. "Thank you, honey. Sorry, it became my blankie. Annabelle has all of Ironhide, I claimed this."
"Alright, love." Will sighed with a bit of melodrama and rubbed at the back of his neck. "I guess I'll finally give up and just steal another to keep my pasty ass from getting too fried out here."
"Well, you could always just come home and get it, Ranger."
Laughing eyes, and a smile that was going to break his heart. The longing for her caught him, sharp and hard, and he was angry all over again. She was being dragged into this and she didn't deserve it, not by a long shot.
Suddenly the F key seemed to hold all the answers to the universe. Will stared at it, trying to school his expression back to neutral. Mostly neutral.
Sarah caught the scowl before he looked down.
Uh oh, bad news.
She rarely missed the signs anymore, and Will was going to shatter a molar if he kept grinding his jaw like that.
She made a gentle click. "Just tell me, honey."
Will raised his head. Their eyes met through the cameras.
"Base commander cancelled all leaves."
The look on her face was going to kill him. Will swore silently, hands gripping the desk and leaning forward.
"I'm sorry, Sarah, so sorry," he tried to soothe. "We can't seal the deal yet, but we are getting close." At least, he hoped to God they were close. They just had to nail the damn bug and he could go home.
Of all the things she had thought might go wrong, this one never made the list.
He couldn't come home, he wasn't going to make it home.
Sarah took a deep breath, trying to ignore the stab of pain, the crushing disappointment.
"So you don't know when you'll be ba~ck?" Just like that, her voice cracked and Sarah blinked back tears.
Will cringed. This was worse than awful. "No, no date. It might just be a few more weeks. I'm so sorry, sweetheart."
Or it might be longer. Sarah had been there and done that more times than she wanted to remember. She took another deep breath. "Is everything alright, Will?"
Will scowled down at the F key again. No, everything was not alright, in fact everything was all wrong with this damn mission.
Things aren't going well, he started to say, then stopped, realizing just how bad that would sound. Not going well was practically code for fucked up beyond a prayer.
"Hit a few snags, but we're getting them ironed out." That sounded lame, even to him. Will sighed and scrubbed a hand through his hair. "Sorry I can't explain better." He had to keep his information minimal because it was classified, but it also made their conversations terse and awkward.
She nodded and bit her lip, trying not to ask more questions he couldn't answer, trying to hide her disappointment, trying to be practical. Just get through the next few minutes of this call and she could collapse.
"Well, I can save the goodies for when you come home. The leg of lamb I got will keep in the freezer, and the pastry crust I made for the blueberry pie. I'll send along more pictures of Annabelle and another care package soon."
"Mmmm, my favorites. You spoil me, my lady. When we're done, you can be damn sure I'll be on the very next transport home."
She blinked hard past tears and lifted her hand to trace a finger over his cheek on the screen. "I miss you, Will."
"I miss you too, Sarah." Will's fingers trailed over her mouth. No smile now. He had so much to make up to her.
"It's a shit situation, sweetie. I'll be home as soon as I can, alri-" The microphone squealed feedback and he glared at it. "The connection's dying... I love you, Sarah."
The speaker crackled loudly. Sarah's image fell apart into frozen static and then the screen went black.
"I love you too, Will." The audio crackled again and the screen blanked. If Will heard the words it would have been a miracle.
"Come home to me, Ranger, that's an order," Sarah whispered, and shut down the laptop.
Lennox got up and paced to the window. Nothing to see outside at night. Office lights glowed in the background; his reflection stared back at him, angry and unhappy. Sure, this wasn't his fault, and Sarah didn't blame him for any of this mess, but he still felt like a royal asshole. She was trying so hard to make things work, and all he was doing was making things worse.
Will rested his forehead against cool glass, eyes closed. He could still see the shine of tears in her eyes, soft mouth turned down, sad at the corners.
He needed to be home, yesterday.
Deep inhale and a gusted breath blowing out all the tension, he straightened from the window and returned to his desk, sitting down to write the letter he should have written months ago.
Sarah,
I wish I had told you this before I left, what I needed to tell you the moment I returned from Mission City.
All the time I was gone overseas, during the attack on our Base, running and managing to get out, meeting the Autobots, trying to survive Mission City, things were going crazy and surreal in I don't know how many different ways, but the entire time all I could think about was you.
You were my obsession, my talisman, the touchstone my mind kept circling around: Get home to you. It was all I could think about, even under fire. Just survive and make it home, see my baby girl for the first time, and see you.
That's what got me through, Sarah. You.
I'm sorry I never told you that, I should have. Then things were so strained, and keeping quiet just made it worse. I'm sorry I hurt you, and I'm sorry for everything I did that caused things to break down so badly between us. Even sorrier now that I can't make it home on leave like we planned.
But Sarah, my lady, it's the thought of MAKING IT HOME that keeps me going. Making it home to our baby, to you, most of all to you.
And if I make it through this mission and get to come home again, I promise with everything in me to make it up to you. I want to have more kids with you, if… well, Annabelle needs a playmate, right? And this time, I want to be there from their first breath and for each step after. I want to be better than good enough, for them and for you.
I am yours, Sarah, and you are my Lady, the love of my life.
Always.
Will
tbc
A/N: Happy Easter! Wow, what a shocker, I'm actually posting a new chapter and it hasn't been a year yet. ;p I've had a fire under me to get this fic done, let's hope it continues. We're getting closer! As always, a million thanks to you, lovely readers, for hanging in with me and giving this story kudos, likes, faves and follows. Many many thanks also to the constant support and encouragement and occasional beating with large sticks of my beta, Quidamling. As always, so much love, hun. This would not get done without you.