Signature Arabis

This story might look familiar! That's because this was originally uploaded by Arabis! She started uploading this story here but decided to only post on AO3. I like this site because it allows you to listen to the stories on the mobile version which is the only way I can really read these days. So I asked if I could go into her account and fix the story so that it had chapters as well as be updated, since the AO3 version is way, way ahead. She explained that she was frustrated with this sight and I could just re-post this story under my name as long as I give her credit and linked the AO3 version in here. (It gets updated first there if you want to read it there! Also, starting at Chapter 22, the slow burn to Sam/Bumblebee ends and the full relationship begins! Because of this sites rules, all explicit scenes will be removed. You can find those scenes on AO3!

archiveofourown / works / 20590394 / chapters / 48884030 - if that doesn't work because it keeps deleting parts, just search Arabis on AO3.

Summary: Post-ROTF. Struggling with post-traumatic stress disorder, Sam slowly comes to learn that he brought something back with him from the Egyptian desert. Notes:

For Steelfeathers.

Ten years ago, Steelfeathers published Instability, which has become one of the most popular Transformers fan fictions of all time. Since its original publication, this story has stood out for its balanced blend of world building, canon-compliant interactions among characters, and nail-biting suspense. At Steelfeather's request, this will not be a straight chapter-by-chapter reboot. Rather, she has given her blessing for me to write my version of her story. If you haven't read Instability yet, stop right now and do so. She did it first, and she did it best: Instability ( ) Chapter 1

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

When Sam, Mikaela, and his parents had first boarded the aircraft carrier the following morning, fear had been the furthest thing from his mind. Instead, he had been overwhelmed with a reverent thankfulness to be alive. To feel Mikaela's soft hand in his own, her fingers interlaced with his. To hear his parents' (hilarious) commentary, equal parts disbelieving and outraged, as they found themselves fully immersed in a world that Sam had lived in for the last two years.

More than anything, as he stood on the flight deck and stared out towards the receding shoreline, Sam was grateful that all of his companions had come back from Egypt alive. That hadn't been the case in Mission City, when Jazz had died—a loss still felt keenly by the Autobots. In Egypt they had been close, so close, to complete destruction. They had almost lost Optimus, their sun, the human race. If it weren't for the intervention of six benevolent alien demi-gods—

Sam shook his head sharply, cutting off the train of thought. That wasn't something he was ready to confront right now. Or maybe ever.

Glancing over his shoulder, Sam watched as Optimus approached. A wan smile tugged at his lips. For a 20-plus foot tall alien robot that weighed about a thousand tons, the Autobot leader could be as quiet as a whisper when he wanted.

"Thank-you, Sam, for saving my life." Optimus said, sincere and dignified, as he stopped beside him.

The irony of that statement made Sam smile for real.

"You're welcome." He said, before adding, "And thank-you for believing in me."

They stood in companionable silence for several moments before Sam looked up at the large mechanoid, "Everyone doing alright? Ratchet must be in full blown mother-hen mode."

Optimus cycled air through his vents, a sound reminiscent of a human sigh, "Although we came perilously close to the unthinkable, most of my soldiers made it through the battle with only minor damages. Ratchet is with Arcee now."

Sam knew that Arcee and her sisters had sustained more serious injuries than the others. An uncomfortable feeling lodged itself in his chest.

"She'll be okay though, right? Ratchet'll fix her up good as new?" Sam asked, unable to keep the sharp note of anxiety from his voice. Even though he didn't know Arcee well—truth be told, they hadn't spent more than two hours in each other's company—the idea of losing any of them was physically painful.

Optimus turned and regarded him closely, before lowering to one knee. Sam was surprised to feel a twinge of fear as Optimus leaned towards him, but he didn't have the time to reflect on it before the Autobot leader was speaking.

"Arcee will be fine, Sam, as will the others." There was a pause, and Sam had the sense that Optimus was choosing his next words carefully, "Megatron was dealt a grievous blow with this defeat. The Decepticons will fall back and regroup. They will not pose a threat for the near future."

Sam dropped his gaze as the uncomfortable feeling in his chest tightened. Dread, he realized distantly. Raising his head, Sam met the intense blue of Optimus' optics.

"That's good. Well, not good that they'll be back eventually, but they're like cockroaches, you know? Leave one alive and they'll crawl out of the woodwork eventually. But it's good that we gave them a beat-down that really hurt. A real life knock 'em, sock 'em robots." Sam laughed and drew a sharp breath between his teeth, "Maybe this time Megatron will think twice before plotting to overthrow the planet again."

Something softened in Optimus' optics.

"Sam—" He started.

"Sam!" Mikaela yelled as she jogged towards him.

He turned towards her, affection warming the expression on his face, "Hey 'Kaela."

"Have you been out here this whole time? The doctor is asking for you."

Sam's lips thinned in a grimace. When they had first boarded the aircraft carrier, the Autobots had been directed to the flight deck to undergo Ratchet's tender ministrations, while the human contingent had been sent below decks to the hospital corps. Sam had spent an unpleasant hour and a half as they cleaned and dressed the second-degree burns over his chest and left arm, then wrapped tape around his chest to steady his two cracked ribs. Sam's teenaged male pride had wanted to crack jokes and make light, but all false bravado had died on his lips when they started digging the sand and masonry fragments out of his weeping wounds. That had hurt, dammit, and he had shook in pain despite the painkillers they had given him.

When they had finished, and Sam lay pale and shivering on the bed, they had stuck electrodes to his calves, arms, and chest. The corpsmen had murmured to one another as they looked at the output of the EKG and, deciding Sam wasn't about to drop dead, they had brought him fresh clothes and told him to get dressed. Shortly thereafter, the attending physician had given him military-grade antibiotics and told Sam that he would check on him after he had seen to Sam's parents. Sam had thought a reunion with Barricade sounded more enjoyable, honestly, and he had made his way out of the hospital ward at the first available opportunity. When he had spotted the uniformed soldiers standing sentry in the corridor, he asked for directions to the flight deck. He had fully expected a denial, but to his surprise, a beefy soldier that made Epps look like a hall monitor had escorted him to the flight deck himself. That made sense, Sam had reflected on the way, can't have a recently resurrected, twitchy, teenager roaming about unattended.

The idea of returning to the hospital ward, to be poked at and murmured over by strangers, made his insides seize in anxiety. Desperate to delay the inevitable—they weren't going to let him sleep on the flight deck, after all—Sam turned and fixed Mikaela with his most charming smile.

"Sorry, 'Kaela, I've been brooding. You know how it is with manly types." He grinned, wiggling the fingers of his good hand near his head. "We get all introspective and pensive after a brush with death."

If her loud snort was anything to go by, he did a shit job of pulling off the role of cavalier war hero.

"Come on Sam, your parents are looking for you too."

Sam's grimace returned in earnest, and he looked back towards the ocean to conceal his reaction. After the gunfire had died down and the smoke had settled, his parents had embraced him with a quiet intensity that had shook Sam to his core. Unlike the loud crying his mother had indulged in while he packed for university, this had been nearly silent. Both his mother and his father had hugged him close, their breath harsh in his ears and tears on their cheeks, all without uttering a single word. It had left Sam with a feeling that gripped him tight, indefinable and elusive. He didn't know how to confront that feeling again without breaking down.

Sam swallowed hard, still looking towards the horizon.

"Sam?" Mikaela asked, her voice edged with concern.

"I'm fine." He replied abruptly, realizing too late that his voice was too loud. Too sharp. He paused, taking a moment to gather himself, and said, "I want to check on Bumblebee first." Sam looked up at Optimus, avoiding Mikaela's gaze, "Is that alright?"

Before Optimus could reply, a thought suddenly occurred to him and his chest seized painfully, in guilt this time, rather than dread.

"Wait," Sam rushed, cutting Optimus off, "Is he in recharge? I mean, he just had a throw-down high-stakes death match with the devil—well, devils—incarnate." Another thought occurred to him, "Or does he need to see Ratchet? I know Ratchet needs to focus on Arcee right now, but if Bumblebee is hurt, then I don't want—"

"Sam." A single word from the Autobot leader, but it was enough to cut off his rambling. He looked up at Optimus, surprised to realize his heart was in his throat.

"Bumblebee is fine." Optimus repeated his assurances from earlier. His tone, although gentle, was firm as he continued, "He will be on the flight deck if you wish to see him. But first, you should see your physician and your parents."

Feeling slightly stung by the denial, Sam shoved his hands in his pockets.

"Yeah. Yeah, okay." He replied. What else could he say?

Optimus straightened to his full height, watching Sam with those brilliant blue optics. Sam turned, taking Mikaela's hand in his own, and started off towards the flight deck door. The beefy solider who had escorted him was still standing there, waiting. Next to him stood his carbon copy, a six-foot-plus tall, wide-as-a-barn-door, stack of muscle carrying a sidearm. Honestly, the two of them looked like they were a limited edition matched set.

Decepticon killing accessories sold separately, Sam thought with amusement.

As they stepped into the shadow of the observation deck, Sam glanced back over his shoulder. Optimus stood at the edge of the flight deck, looking out over the water. His posture was solemn and dignified, but he had an air of quiet introspection about him. It gave the Autobot leader a solitary appearance.

It was the last thing that Sam saw before the iron door closed behind him.