-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P- Denotes scene breaks

ooOOooOOooOOoo Denotes breaks within a scene

~ Chapter 23 ~

Mikaela was still blinking past shock when Ironhide signaled to Prime and Prime rose to face Barricade.

The red tinge in her vision was back; a dizzying sweep of emotions spilled through her. Fury, outrage and hostility were uppermost, followed by resentment and jealousy, gradually descending into turmoil, confusion, and a chaotic mix she had no name for. All left her shivering, but the very last left her trembling, moved beyond pity.

"No, wait." She stepped ahead of Prime, gaze fixed on those crimson optics as she walked slowly towards him.

Another layer of emotions drove the raging storm, alarm, apprehension, dismay, a terrible fear of loss, and a deep and bitter despair that he could not fight or protect against it.

"Hey," Mikaela whispered, "hey." She laid a hand on plating that was pitted and worn, cold to the touch. "I'm here, I'm right here and I'm not leaving."

Barricade looked down, angry red optics dimming, his field wrapping around her with that same gentle touch, caressing, inviting. Mikaela petted over worn metal. Add optics to the repair list, she thought, the dimming red glare appearing more of a sputter. She murmured reassurances, trying to convey them to him with her own field, but the effort was awkward and clumsy at best. Ironhide had not taught her to use her field for anything except defense.

She patted his plating, about to apologize for the lack, when a tremor went through the metal beneath her hand and Ratchet's voice was suddenly loud in her head.

"We have had medics who were small. You are very small but I will train you in the procedures to follow. Listen carefully, they may save your life…"

Mikaela placed both hands on plating, assessing the strength and frequency of the tremors, trying to gauge how long she had.

Not long.

She didn't need the frightened cry from Maggie or Jazz's warning shout. A stronger tremor, an alarming rippling of the metal beneath her hand, and she took off running, straight between his legs and then a dodge to the side. The bad part was not knowing if he would fall forward or backward or to the side. The very worst part was there was no time to look back and check. There was only time to run, with fear shivering up her spine and dread curling in her gut, praying Barricade would fall slower, praying she would clear the distance in time before two tons of giant robot fell on her.

Her headset crackled with Maggie's softly accented voice, "All clear, 'Kaela," overlaid with Jazz's smooth deep tones, "Coast is clear, come on back, little medic."

Walking back gave her time to catch her breath, and to look over Barricade with a critical eye. She had feared a complete loss of structural integrity and collapse of his frame but he seemed no worse for wear. His balance was precarious but Prime and Ironhide were there, bracing him on both sides.

Ironhide beckoned her closer. "Is he communicating with you?"

"Not sure, he's… I can feel him. He's afraid." Barricade growled and Mikaela spared him a wry glance. "And angry."

Ironhide grunted as Barricade leaned heavily on him and away from Prime. "So what else is new."

"He does seem calmer," she ventured, watching the older mech straining to support the younger. Ironhide… really did not look good.

"Let's get him down," Prime urged, and Ironhide gratefully shifted his burden, both mechs guiding the Decepticon carefully to a seated position.

Once firmly on the ground, Barricade mantled over Mikaela, one hand extended to her, palm up, sharp clawed digits held well away.

Mikaela looked from the palm up to bright crimson optics, and slowly tapped her headset.

"Barricade? My name is—"

Metal grated with a protesting shriek, heavily damaged vocalizer struggling to spit out the harsh syllables.

"Mik-ae-la…. Your name…. Mik-ae-la."

-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-

"What are we doing here, Sam? This place is for little kids."

"It's a museum, Miles, it's for everyone," Sam replied absently, heading into the Astronomy wing.

"Yeah well, they're all little kids here," Miles muttered, slumped against a wall. "We could've gone to the lake, or to a movie, or hell, just ridden around for a while."

"You wanted to come."

"You said we were going to hang out. This isn't my idea of hanging out and the last I checked, it wasn't yours either."

Sam ignored him, seemingly fixated on a large mural of the Andromeda galaxy. Miles' disgruntled expression slid into speculative. "Is this about your car being a giant alien robot?"

"Shhhhh," Sam practically hissed at him, glancing nervously around.

"Wait, don't tell me. You're trying to find their home planet." Miles rolled his eyes. "I'm still not falling for it."

The pause was just a beat too long, and then Sam slowly turned his head. The look he leveled on Miles sent a shiver crawling down his back. Something vast and ancient, and utterly cold and indifferent, looked out through Sam's eyes.

"Then leave."

Miles stared, his mouth opening and shutting a few times waiting for his brain to catch up. "Fine," he finally bit out, and turned on his heel and left.

He should have been furious, standing outside waiting for his mom to pick him up. But the baking heat barely penetrated the icy cold in his gut. He couldn't remember a time in his life he'd been deathly afraid for Sam—of Sam—but he was now.

His gaze fell on the bright yellow Camaro just as his mom's car pulled into the parking lot.

"Stupid… stupid, stupid, stupid," he muttered. Stupid idea, idiotic, crazy even. But not any crazier than what his eyes were still trying to convince his brain they had really seen, that something alien, something not-Sam, had been looking at him.

Yeah, ok then. Miles fists clenched briefly, then he waved at his mom and walked over to Sam's car. "Miles, you are crazy," he muttered, but still he slid palms over the hood, the way he'd seen Sam do a million times. It didn't feel any different, just warm metal, unmoving, a normal car, sure, that played random snatches of songs and couldn't stick to one single radio station…

Miles took a deep breath, ran a thumb down one of the black racing stripes. "If anyone's in here," he murmured, "please, take care of Sam? He's my best friend and something's not… he's just… wrong."

Nothing. No movement, no burst of song. Ah, hell. Miles sighed. It had been a long shot anyway.

He gave the Camaro a last look before getting into his mom's car. Sunlight danced on yellow paint; a sudden bright gleam seemed to wink at him.

Huh. Weird.

ooOOooOOooOOoo

Bumblebee was still trembling faintly long after the boy—Miles-had left. The urge to talk to someone, anyone, was overwhelming, the need nearly enough to overcome instinctive caution. It was all he could do to keep from answering.

Sam seemed normal for the most part, chattering sometimes a mile a minute, and Bumblebee was reassured at those times. Talkative Sam was a happy, normal Sam. No flash of pinprick blue in brown eyes, no hints of that 'otherness' that sent shivers through his spark. But he couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right, something ever so slightly "off" about Sam. And now Miles seemed to confirm it.

He called up vid records, playing them on a loop while he waited. Sam coming out of school, out of the mall, out of the library, out of the movie theatre, always with Miles. Swimming at the lake, biking, camping. Miles. Family barbecues, birthday parties, texting, talking. Miles, Miles, Miles. Mikaela had been an interruption of the pattern, a very brief one, before it resumed again.

Everywhere Sam went, Miles was never far behind.

A sigh of air vented into the nearly empty parking lot; the Camaro shifted on its shocks. He was so desperately tired now, all the time. Maybe someone to confide in, someone who might be able to help... Maybe a friend who could be trusted.

ooOOooOOooOOoo

3 a.m. what the fuck... Miles jerked and grabbed for his phone, bleary eyed and mumbling.

"… Hello?"

A series of multi-toned pings and beeps greeted him, followed by a woman's voice, strong and brisk.

"Message received and acknowledged, Captain. Starfleet out."

-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-

::Jazz… watch Mikaela… please...::

Jazz took a long look at Ironhide before turning to Barricade and Mikaela. "Okay, you two, let's clear outta here and let the grownups have some peace and quiet."

It took the combined efforts of himself and Mikaela to coax Barricade back into alt-mode, but Jazz saw no alternative. Gears and metal screeched, loud and harsh, as Barricade collapsed into alt-mode. Literally and painfully. Jazz winced and then shooed them both into the barn. Barricade's main stabilizers were badly in need of attention, along with his transformation cog. Ratchet had set up some rudimentary equipment in the Lennox barn for Mikaela's use, and Mikaela had added her own touches, forming a curious blend of garage and medbay.

Sarah watched as the trio headed to the barn, Mikaela chatting with Jazz and making a checklist as they walked. "… that cog'll crack…" "I know, I know, but I think the stabilizers should come first…" "…his color…" "He needs nanites, lots of them, but I don't think Ratchet left…"

Autobot, human, and Saleen disappeared into the barn and Sarah turned her attention back to the yard. Annabelle was already down for her afternoon nap, and Maggie had popped into the study to check Sarah's laptop; her calls with Will seemed to carry more and more interference each time.

Only Prime and Ironhide were left, and Sarah watched them, puzzled. Ironhide seemed to be waiting for something, utterly motionless, optics locked with Prime's. She had the sudden impression that they were having a conversation, and then Ironhide moved slowly towards Prime.

He stumbled a little, optics dim and frame shaking, as tired as Sarah had ever seen him. Two long strides and Prime was there, reaching for him, and a wave of unutterable weariness washed over Sarah. She sagged against the porch rail, trembling, wrapping an arm around a post to steady herself.

She blinked against the flash of light as Prime opened his chestplates, then Ironhide's frame blocked it out and an entirely different sensation was coursing through her.

Energy flooded his systems, Matrix sparked and so powerful it brought a groan from Ironhide. He clutched at Prime's waist, staggering with it, and powerful arms locked around him.

Linked intimately as it was with the Prime, the Matrix conveyed all that Optimus was. Ironhide shuddered with relief and opened his own chestplates, resting his helm on Prime's shoulder and letting consciousness sink into the flow of pure energy.

The stream of energy Sarah sank into was ordered confusion; her mind felt stretched to the limit and limitless. She carried the weight of a million ideas juggled at once; calculations were made at the speed of light; actions and reactions assessed, and the thousands of compensations necessary for each.

Vents sighed out relief. Optimus had been lightning rod and touchstone, a foundation of strength to uphold an entire species through a civil war lasting millenia. Ironhide could lay down his burden for a little while, trusting in the Matrix, the arms around him, the Prime who held him.

Sarah tried to retreat from the overwhelming analytics, the intricate and layered processes, far advanced and alien and utterly beyond her comprehension. The flow of energy seemed to understand, and she was drawn into deeper currents. Metal arms locked around her in a strong and familiar embrace. She sank into that strength, let it hold and comfort and support her. She sent wordless gratitude through the currents and something sparkled back to her. Love. There was no mistaking it. Optimus Prime, loved.

Optimus shared of his strength willingly, and the deep emotions of his friend washed over Ironhide. Love for all his people, Autobot and Decepticon alike, for all sentient beings. And right now, for the friend in his arms in desperate need of that love and strength. Ironhide let wordless gratitude be his thanks, sinking once more into the stream until his systems were fully restored and flush with energy.

A gentle, very gentle push, and she was back in the beautiful expanse of glimmering blue ocean, floating dreamily through the star-filled depths. She was safe, content, happy. This must be what heaven is like…

It is 'bond space', dear one, and my sincere apologies that I lacked the strength to keep you out.

Another push, stronger this time, and she rose up out of the depths to find herself back on the porch, still clutching the post. Or maybe she never left. Sarah took a deep breath, shimmers of blue still on the edges of her vision, the sense of loss sharper this time.

What is happening to me...?

A soothing rumble sounded across the yard. She turned her head to see Prime and Ironhide watching her, shoulder to shoulder, chestplates closed, not a hint of that brilliant light to be seen.

::You felt her,:: Prime commented. ::What now?::

Ironhide slowly rubbed a hand over his jaw plating. ::I did... not sure what I want to do about it. Talk to her, at least.::

Prime gave him an appraising look. ::I think you know exactly what you want to do about it, old friend.::

-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-

Late in the day, Ironhide was still mulling over Prime's remark. On the one hand, it had given Ironhide the reminder and reassurance that Lennox was as much a priority for Prime as himself. On the other hand, it did little to ease his own increasing tension and worry over Lennox, and Ironhide had lived too long to ignore his AI's twitchiness, however unfocused.

A sensor warning pinged and Ironhide glanced over his HUD. Will's biosigns had not indicated either sleep or a decrease in stress levels for over 22 hours. With the time zones, it was well into the early hours of the morning in Qatar.

He tapped into the audio feed. The only sound was the occasional typing, scratching of writing or shuffling of paper. That, and the soft, nearly subvocal swearing and the frequent growls.

"Lennox," Ironhide rumbled quietly through the audio.

"Come in-" The man's voice cracked, the papers shuffled and then stilled. Will was distracted enough he neither recognized the voice nor the source.

"Will." Ironhide repeated. "William. My Charge."

"Huh? Wait, shit. Ironhide." Lennox snarled, there was a rustle of his uniform and the soft rush that Ironhide could identify as Will scrubbing through his hair.

"Will. You need sleep."

"I need to figure out what this damn bug is doing. It's like a fucking spirograph. I just... if... And the men need practice with the new polymer packs. Capture it... Hope the packs immobilize, but… Even the ones that did construction or know insulating foam, it's not meant to be a weapon..."

"Will."

"Ironhide- I... If I just-"

"WILL. You are exhausted. You are no good to your men like this."

Lennox made a soft sound. Somehow it wound to Ironhide's spark and twisted. A soft thump carried through the comm. "Nothing's working. And we keep losing men. We're understaffed, overextended and no one is listening. And. I... I just... If we get it... I can-"

"Lennox, you need to rest."

"No. I- All I want is to make it through this, even with just most of my limbs. ...I just- I just want to come home."

Ironhide's optics dimmed and he glanced back to the house, tracking Sarah bouncing Annabelle on her hip as she moved through the kitchen. "I know." He hummed, listening to the sounds of Will's breath slowly easing out as his heartrate settled.

"Will." Ironhide gently rumbled the tone, keeping the soothing purr of his engine carrying through the comm.

"Hmm? Yeah, 'Hide?"

The mech kept the chuckle subvocal. His charge sounded quiet and drowsy, much better than the frantic urgency darting from idea to idea like a glitchmouse a few minutes ago. "I watch over Sarah and Annabelle. I protect them, they are safe. They are healthy and coping as well as possible with your absence. I can watch over you but cannot protect you at a distance. You need to take care of yourself."

"Mean you can't teleport to pull my ass out of the fire," Lennox murmured, but beneath the fatigue he sounded amused.

"Close enough. Get some sleep, My Charge. Consider it an order."

There was another shift of papers, but then Lennox sighed. "Hope whatever that translates to was something better than 'Fucking Moron.' But fine."

"Not so descriptive, no." Ironhide paused for a beat. "Will," he growled a gentle warning when there were no immediate sounds of movement.

"Alright, alright. I'm going. I swear." There was a pause, and a brief uptick in the human's biosigns. "Night. Tell them I love them."

"I will, rest well."

The comm went silent and Lennox was alone again in his office. He realized he had dropped his chin to his desk like a little kid. Will blinked and twitched his head in a shake. The scattered papers were given a scathing glare, but when they failed to burst into flames he shifted them back into neater piles. Done. Not done. What the Fuck do I do with these? It was an evolving file system.

His letter to Sarah had its own space on his desk. He picked it up and thumbed over the edge of the envelope. It had not found its way into the outgoing mail, yet. Tomorrow, he promised himself. It would get mailed tomorrow after a few hours of sleep. A quick glance at his watch and Lennox swore, dragging himself to his feet. Only two hours of sleep, barely, if he hurried and skimped on breakfast.

ooOOooOOooOOoo

The next morning came with a pillow bouncing off his face. "The fuck?" Lennox groused, fighting out of knotted blankets.

"Sorry, man. I gave you every last minute." Bobby leaned against the doorframe with a cat and cream smirk. "But really, we gotta go."

Will groaned and looked at his watch. "Fuuuuuuuck me."

"No time now," Bobby snorted. "Rain check."

"Alright, alright." Will ducked into the bathroom, dealt with nature, splashed some water over himself and stuck a toothbrush in his mouth. Back by his bunk he swished the bristles over his teeth between pulling on his pants and rooting around for a clean pair of socks. He spat in the trash and ditched the toothbrush by his bedside. Will tugged his undershirt over his head, grabbed his boots and overshirt then padded after Epps.

"You wanna hit the mess, you better put somma that shit ON your body."

"I…" Will paused and waffled in indecision. He stared at the ceiling and tried to do the math in his head. He would still need to swing back to his bunk and get the rest of his gear after breakfast. "Might have enough time to... Shit!"

Bobby just muttered "-the fuck?" as Will ran by him.

"Forget breakfast. I'll be there for wheels up!"

"Crazy ass mother fuckin'…" Epps grumbled, shaking his head and tacking off down a different hall to finish his own prep for the day.

Lennox nearly bounced off his office door, still struggling into his overshirt and trying to juggle the rest of his half-donned clothes. He managed to get the door open and then flopped into his chair to get his boots on.

His eyes kept drifting to the letter. Once Will was presentable, he picked it up and traced over his home address with his fingers. How long had he stared at that envelope? It needed to be said, but putting that in the outgoing mail terrified the shit out of him. It felt like it was tempting fate, but he had already held off for too long.

Lennox spared one last look at his watch. There was barely enough time to get back and geared up before his squad needed to head out for today's search grid. He ran by the mail room and put the envelope to be sent out with the next stateside shipment. There would only be seconds to spare. So much for grabbing breakfast…

At fucking last, the helicopter appeared for their pick up. All day they had been subjected to hot, dry wind in their faces. Will's eyes felt cemented in a permanent squint even behind his eyewear. His uniform was an oven, hot against his skin.

"Hey, man," Epps yelled in his face. Despite that the helicopter was still a ways off, Lennox could barely make out the words over the din in his head. "Will?"

"Just feel like shit," Will yelled back, leaning down to get near Bobby's ear. The smell of sweat and grit hit his nose. His mouth filled with too much saliva and he turned to spit.

Bobby pulled up his scarf to mop sweat from his face. His lips thinned and he narrowed his gaze at his CO. "Not gonna lie, you look it, too."

"Flattery will get you nowhere," Will snarked, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. His fingers tremored before he made a fist.

"No shit," Bobby snapped fondly.

Will staggered, the roar of the rotors was a palpable thing, rattling in his head. Something touched his arm and Will startled. Bobby was staring hard at him, Lennox just shook his head and pulled his arm free.

They all held their eye protection as the helicopter landed. Lennox swore that Epps kept looking him up and down, but he needed to devote all his attention to staying upright. He was grateful that the noise precluded any attempt at further conversation.

The rest of the squad tightened their grip on their gear and trooped onto the helicopter once the ramp lowered. Will held off, making sure the full contingent was on board before following. It was a bit slow, he moved deliberately and settled in the last seat.

Bobby sat directly across from Will. Once the ramp was secured and they took off he kicked his shin, eyes narrowed. Lennox replied with a half-hearted middle finger. Epps frowned but did not stop staring.

"Fuck off," Will mumbled. Everything seemed loud and foggy. He leaned against the bulkhead to fight the dizzy feeling, head back, eyes unfocused, the very picture of misery.

Just as Bobby was ready to elbow Scott beside him to get their medic's attention, Will went white and suddenly threw up on the floor at his feet. The rest of the squad recoiled, lifting their boots out of the way, swearing and complaining at the Captain and trying to slide as far away from the mess as possible.

"Shit," Bobby jumped up and pushed Will back upright in his seat. "Will, fucker, Lennox, look at me." Will almost seemed drunk, limp, eyes unfocused and his head just rolling around as Bobby moved him. Epps hissed and glared at the men still griping about a damn little bit of watery puke. He made eye contact with the medic, a few men forward in the aircraft and tossed his head, yelling "Dom, you're up."

-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-

Ironhide paced the small stretch of ground between house and barn, angry and frustrated, engine snarling.

He had been seething for the last three hours as Lennox's biosigns steadily degraded. Every Guardian protocol was on high alert, every system at the ready, every weapon charged, and there was not a Pit-damned thing he could do to help his human.

He paused and sent Ratchet another databurst from the tracker.

::Ratchet?::

::On it, Ironhide. Vitals are still below optimal, he has just experienced emesis. Where are they now?::

Ironhide tapped in on Will's tracker in time to hear Epps' bark, "Lennox, look at me," followed by "Dom, you're up."

::Still in the transport, Epps just called for their medic.::

::Good. Let me listen in and track the data.::

Ironhide linked up with the medic, enabled access to audio and the tracker, and resumed his pacing.

Barely two clicks passed before Ratchet's comm pulled him to a halt.

::Inform Sarah. She needs to know what's happening::

tbc

A/N: As always, thank you for hanging in with this story, lovely readers! The kudos, likes, faves and follows are what keeps me going. :) Many many MANY thanks, appreciation and gratitude to my beta, Quidamling, who took over Will Lennox for me this chapter. Your help, support and encouragement mean the world to me. So much love, hun, this would not get done without you. 3