Combustion

Welcome welcome! To those of you just tuning in…

Ok seriously, thank you people SO much… Do you know how many reviews this fic has received…? I didn't actually look but I know I got like 20 reviews today, which means surely over 6 chapters equals over 100 :) That's so great! Thank you all.

Now to the private thank you's.

DANIA: Nice to get your review! I think it's your longest yet – almost a fic in itself :) and I couldn't wait to post 7 so sorry for barrelling ahead without you ;) Thanks again for managing to use the word 'minutiae', seriously – it makes my day. Oh and Kudo's on your vast and bountiful knowledge of everything from Greek myths, to Opera, to music to medicine! Reading your reviews is like a quick journey through a history book :D It's great. Also, how cool is the phrase 'Deus Ex Machina'… It sounds WAY cooler than it actually is lol – you could imagine Arnie using it as a catchphrase (insert heavy terminator accent here) – "Day-oos ex mack-in-a, scum-bag." Thank you also for your comments on my medical technology too… though it was as much luck as anything. That and medical shows lol :) Though my boyfriend is a radiographer (don't know if they're called the same thing over there, but basically the person who runs all the CT, MRI, XRAY machines) So I was able to ask a question or 2 about how they work. And then was on the receiving end of an hour long discussion about the latest technology exhibit that was on for the next-gen scanners… :) The price I pay for my creativity! I can't wait to see what you think of 7 (as of writing this you haven't had a chance yet :)

DEMARCOS: Thanks again. I am proudly a member of the white bread club. Did you get your members jacket? I also laughed my absolute ass off (seriously ask my boss!) when I read your comment about 'awesome super word power'. That could almost be a subtitle in some Japanese anime – "team we need to beat these people talking too loudly in the library! We must make them feel so stupid they are forced to leave. Activate awesome super word power, NOW!"

ANGLE1: Thanks for the explanation :) I figured it must have been something like that. But I didn't want to accuse you of making a typo in case you'd meant it :D

RIKUNGHTS: Thanks… I think :) though I'm not sure that the society for the protection and preservation of keyboards would agree with me. I have to confess to pounding my keyboard when I type, so I'm not actually a card carrying member :D Picture me finishing that chapter (which I LOVED typing) and wrapping up the final sentence with a David Helfgott/Shine moment at the end of playing a Rachmaninoff piece. Flourish and all lol

Then some general thanks… Seriously I feel bad for not thanking everyone here, but I could go on for hours and then you wouldn't get any actual story… I figured you'd rather get the chapter than a thank you note!

Battle Maniac Azurice – you're Australian as well? I thought I was the only one lol. Where abouts in this drought afflicted country of ours are you? Aeroferret – as long it's just your jaw and not some Boston tea :). Blackphoenixofthenight – Thank you very much! brokenheart8720 – who cares about language, throw out all the expletives you can ;)

Chapter 8

"There's a 'Maggie' here to see you Secretary Keller. I told her it was too late but she insisted." The slightly aged man behind the desk nodded his head as he looked up from the paperwork he was reading over, sliding the glasses off his face and dropping them on top of the discarded file.

"Of course. Please show her in." He stood up; buttoning the dark navy suit he was wearing and stepping around the timber desk to greet the attractive blonde that entered the room. It was a pleasant enough work space, open, large, reasonably well lit, a panoramic view from the windows across the, now dark, paved and grassed plaza outside. Behind the visitor the secretary closed the white doors with a soft thunk, which made the room seem more secure than it actually was.

"Maggie, lovely to see you again. How are things for you over at the analysis section these days?" She smiled, showing perfect white teeth and followed him over to the comfortable couch and coffee table that occupied one section of the office. They both dropped onto opposite ends of the sofa as she laid a previously unnoticed yellow envelope onto the table in front of them.

"As well as can be expected. They still don't know what happened of course, so they took it rather hard when I returned with special clearance and a pardon for stealing classified data." Her voice was light, not the sound of someone stating the sorts of comments she made. He smiled and smoothed out his tie before reaching for the yellow sleeve before them

"An uncomfortable situation that was, unfortunately, unavoidable. I'm very grateful to you for agreeing to stay on and monitor things for me. It saves bringing in another person onto such a large secret." The sound of tearing paper announced his opening of the seal, a thick stack of photos sliding out into his hand, the envelope discarded into the wastepaper basket next to him.

"I understand sir. That's why I hurried to bring you these straight away, in spite of the hour. They are… troubling to say the least." He squinted at the stack for a moment before standing and walking over to the desk where he could retrieve the glasses he had left there.

"Is that…?" He pulled the photo away, as though trying to refocus on it.

"Yes sir. That, is an F-22 Raptor fighter jet above the atmosphere, about to attempt re-entry." The glasses were pulled off again as the two stared at each other.

"One of the originals?" The blonde head nodded.

"This one, I believe, was called Starscream. He disappeared after the battle." He slid the glasses back on and flipped to the next page.

"How long ago were these taken?" She stood and straightened her skirt walking over and flipping the pages to another close up shot, this one showing a flaming tail of plasma already streaming away from the jet as it dropped into the upper ionosphere.

"The RC7 dash 4 satellite took these about twenty minutes ago sir. But there's more." She held out her hand in a silent request for the pictures, flipping to about two thirds of the way through before handing them back.

"The Russian geographical satellite Alexei 9 detected this only about an hour earlier. They didn't know what it was, and frankly neither did we, but the signature wavelength and the location seemed more than mere coincidence to me." The photo showed what appeared to be a wide angle view of a section of California, a strange effect like a lens flare in the upper corner of it. Superimposed in the lower quadrant was a blue spectrographic breakdown of the signal, overlayed with another in yellow.

"Can we get a closer look?" She shook her head, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

"Unfortunately not. The satellite was on a large aperture terrain signal analysis. We're lucky they were still setup to measure abnormal energy output. By the time they could reconfigure it the energy signature was gone. According to computer matching with known landmarks, the appearance is only a few minutes from his location though." No name was mentioned in association with who 'he' might be, seemingly unnecessary between them.

"I see. And are we certain this 'Starscream' is definitely headed here? It's not just a coincidence?" His voice didn't sound like someone who had conviction in his own statement.

"Not a chance. We monitored him as he left the atmosphere weeks ago. He's made no attempt to return since then; seemingly happy to wait where we can't reach him. Those who are in the know, including Prime, feel he may be waiting for reinforcements. An hour after this image was taken we detected some sort of transmission and he began his return." The older man nodded in understanding.

"I see. How long?" The woman paused.

"Would you like the computer estimate sir? Or mine?" He looked at her from the top of his eyes as he stayed focussed on the paper.

"Yours thank you."

"Half an hour. One hour tops. The computer says three, but I think it's underestimating them and what they can do. We need to remember that even though it looks like a standard F-22, it most definitely isn't one." He folded the sheets back to their beginning and dropped both them and his glasses back on the desk.

"Very well. We'll need to contact them and let them know." Again, no further elaboration was made on who 'they' were, the woman only nodding.

"I've already alerted Prime. There's something else as well though sir." He raised an eyebrow as he looked at her, a somewhat sarcastic twist to the mouth.

"Why am I not surprised." She pulled a slip of socket fed printer paper from her blouse and unfolded it before handing it over. A series of codes and numbers followed by a bar graph labelled only 'X' and 'Y'.

"I'm afraid you'll need to explain Maggie." She pointed to the graph, highlighting the first two columns.

"This first column here sir, shows the transmission the Russians sent to us with the image from the Alexei survey. Like all classified data it was time stamped leaving their system and then stamped again when it entered ours. The second column shows the total difference in the time stamps compared to the duration of the transmission." His face seemed puzzled.

"But it's almost double the first one." She nodded and indicated one of the numbers higher on the page.

"Yes sir. In fact it is double the first one. Exactly." Comprehension seemed to dawn on him.

"Someone intercepted it." Her face was grim as she verified his statement.

"Precisely. Someone who knew just how to get in our backdoor." His hand banged down on the desk, vibrating the glass of water that was leaving a ring in the polished finish.

"Damn it. I thought we'd got the last of them. Did they take anything else?" She cleared her throat and pointed again to the paper, this time to a small squiggle that looked like a spectrographic display from a home stereo.

"If you look at this line here, this displays the signal strength of our connection to the RC7 dash 4 satellite above us. You can see that after the image was intercepted there is a noticeable drop in our transmission bandwidth, and then again after these photos were taken as he began his descent. They piggybacked on our own satellite feed. They have copies of everything we do." Steel entered the man's voice, giving it a calmly frightening tone.

"How did that happen?" Evidently done with the piece of paper she quietly shredded it with her fingers, turning it into tiny illegible scraps of confetti.

"Evidently a tech over at transmission integrity received a call from someone claiming to be a scientist with NASA, warning that a small solar flare would hamper communications for a while. The person had the appropriate security clearances, and the technician never followed it up, even though the drop only occurred on military surveillance satellites, not commercial or public use." There was no hesitation in his voice as the man undid his jacket and went around the desk to grab a pen.

"Give me his name. I want him gone by the end of the day." The last of the paper confetti fluttered into the waste basket and she dusted her hands.

"Already done sir, and I have instituted new protocol demanding the authorisation of a superior before accepting similar information. But that doesn't solve our problem." Their eyes met over the desk and he dropped the pen again and turning to look out the windows to the dark lawn beyond.

"The remains of Section 7 are on the move."

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Sam sat quietly in the uncomfortable hospital seat that was beside his bed in the ward, staring out the window to the darkness beyond, unable to make out much past the brightly lit reflection of his face that stared back at him.

He'd looked better he supposed. Near death could do that to a person, and hospital gowns weren't exactly known for their sex appeal either. But his normal clothes were gone, apparently the jeans destroyed during the procedure that had saved him, the shirt he remembered losing long before that. As for his boxers, he'd felt his face burn as the doctor had come to talk to him, the older man not saying anything about it, but Sam unable to shake the image that he was silently being judged. He wondered what the man would think if he knew the truth, if he knew exactly what had caused him to spill himself in his pants. He wasn't sure he wanted to know.

The follow up had not lasted long, the doctor choosing to wait until his parents arrived before telling him anything other than that he'd apparently crashed his car through the lobby of the hospital, injuring six people and causing several million dollars worth of property damage. It didn't seem he'd ever be able to drive again after that. He couldn't exactly blame it on the car. Not that he would have at any rate. From what the doctor had very lightly implied, he would have been dead if he'd got here any more than about thirty seconds later. He owed Bumblebee his life, though he'd already owed that before now, and had already given it too.

What was left of it.

He had given it to his autobot, as surely as if they'd made some empty vows before a vacuous priest. He could feel it inside him with an intensity that he'd previously only dreamt of in one of those childish fantasies of castles and princesses, of love that transcends everything and cannot be denied. They came from that age where love seems like a special and treasured thing, old enough to want it, but not yet old enough to realise it rarely worked. With he and B there was no confusion anymore, no doubt. There could never be any doubt now. His mind and heart could no longer contemplate his life without them being together. His thoughts refused to consider the possibility that things wouldn't work out. He trusted B completely, with a total and utter certainty that banished all ambiguity before it. Had his partner told him to jump off a cliff and that he would fly, he would have done it; gladly. The thought didn't frighten him as his mind told him it should, only liberated him to know that he could so completely place his life and faith in someone else's hands. And know that it would be treated more preciously than he would have himself.

His parents had not understood when his first question had been to ask what happened to Bumblebee. They had stared blankly before looking at each other with a glance that had seemed like a silent communication between them. Eventually they had said only that the others were taking care of him, and that was how it should be. They didn't understand that it would never be that way again.

They had asked him what had happened, trying to find out what triggered the attack, but he had not been brave enough to tell them. They had sat with him, his mother holding his hand, as the doctor had shown them the results of the MRI scan he'd been subjected to while unconscious, pointing out the numerous growths, lesions and deformities where there shouldn't be any, going into gruesome detail as to how each would add to his imminent and fast approaching death. His mother had cried. Not the deep, heart wrenching sobs she had made earlier when first given the news, but the slow gentle tears of a person who has exhausted themselves emotionally, and cannot find it in themselves to try and force it. His father had been absolutely still and silent, the doctor even questioning him at one point if he had been listening.

By the time he had gone, none of them had been much in the mood for talk, so he had sat silently until his father had said the one thing he could not remain silent for.

"I think we need to separate you for a while from that… car." It had taken a minute for him to process exactly what the words meant, his brain having trouble connecting the concept of separation, with his connection to Bumblebee. He had jerked as though slapped, pulling his hand away from his mother and cradling it to his chest, feeling betrayed and deceived.

"You can't do that dad." He hadn't raised his voice or spoken in anger, but his father had stood from the seat and started pacing back and forth across the small room, his voice heating a little as he continued.

"He's a bad influence on you son. He keeps you out to all hours of the day and night, takes you to dangerous places and gets you to join in with dangerous activities. He's practically ruined what you had with that Mikaela girl, always keeping you away from her; he's destroyed any chance you two had." Sam didn't feel himself rise to the comments as he once would have, knowing that his father simply worried that he had ruined what seemed like a good thing. He could still remember how happy they'd been that he had found someone and was dating. He'd always been so awkward and unsuccessful with girls in the past. He supposed to worried parents, it had seemed perfect. But it hadn't been. It had been what he'd always thought he wanted, and like most dreams fulfilled, it turned out the gold was only gilded, revealing brass underneath. He didn't need to tell his father that though.

"He didn't ruin anything with Mikaela dad. I made all the choices that ended things between us." It wasn't strictly a lie. Bumblebee hadn't tried to make him hate her or dislike her. He may have tried to scheme a little so they could spend more time together, but it didn't change the fact that he'd probably felt that way about the bot since before that. He didn't think these things happened in an instant.

"We both decided to just go on with being friends. We weren't… compatible." He wondered if they'd get the hint, if they'd drop the subject and not raise it again. But the hint was obviously too subtle, or the result so outrageous they couldn't consider it.

"You may not see it because you weren't watching it from where I was, but believe me he sabotaged it. I'm telling you we're going to start separating you." Sam just shook his head and stared out the window.

"And I'm telling you, you can't do that dad." The older man had turned toward him and gripped the end of the bed with both hands.

"From now on he will go back to staying with the rest of his, group. You can still see him sometimes, but there'll be no more of this nonsense. We'll just have to get you a new car, something definitely not alive." He rolled his eyes and sighed.

"No. What I meant dad was that you can't do that. You can't make me give up B, nor can you make him leave me. Trust me when I say that." His father snorted and seemed ready to continue but his mother looked at him and he fell silent. Sam dropped his eyes to the bedspread, staring at the back of his hands, one of them pierced by a tube that slowly fed him liquids.

"Besides, it's not like it makes much of a difference now anyway." And there it was, hovering before them again like a spectre, throwing the room into silence. He supposed there wasn't really a way to move the conversation past a point like that; it kind of killed any possible comment that might have followed. Eventually they had quietly stood and opened the door, telling him only that they'd get some coffee and be back in a little while.

That had been thirty minutes ago.

He didn't know how long he'd been out, or even what time he'd been brought in, but it had got dark outside while he'd been waiting. A nurse had come in to tell him he was right to come off the drip now, then carefully removed the plastic tube and swabbed and bandaged the wound. She had been all business, in and out without a pause, so now here he found himself, watching his reflection in the window, unable to make out anything through the glass except two blue stars.

He blinked.

Two large, moving stars.

"B!?" It was said with such an amazed reverence, that he thought for a second that someone else had uttered it, but the reflection of the room contained only him, and through it, the faint form of his robot. Only the thin sheet of glass separated them from one another and he pressed his hands up against it, feeling the cold cut against his palms. Beyond them a metal hand slowly copied his gesture until with a softly audible clink the tips of large yet nimble fingers contacted the smooth surface. There may have still been half an inch of glass between them but sparks flew across the surface, like the lines of energy in a plasma lamp. Sam shivered at the sensation, feeling a new awareness that was different to how it had been before. Gone was the urgency, the overpowering need to join, the loss of control. In its place was an almost unearthly resonance that seemed to shiver through his body from head to toe, a small cry escaping him at the relief he suddenly felt. It was as though without the autobot there he was only half of a whole, and now that they were together everything would be ok. Through the glass separating them he saw the same thing in Bumblebee's optics, as though joining had somehow given him the ability to read his partner as thoroughly as B had always been able to read him.

Bonded

It seemed to slither into his neurons like a virus, the word more than just a collection of letters, it was a passion, a perception, and a state of being that carried more weight than any ring or ceremony. If he'd been a cat he swore he'd be purring.

He didn't want to live without this, didn't want to ever let this stop. The approaching time of his death now seemed an even bitterer ending now that he had finally found a way to obtain happiness, only to be forced to give it up. He didn't think he'd ever be able to love anyone as much as he'd somehow ended up loving his B. He blinked back tears and looked into the face only feet away from him, wanting to reach out and touch it but unable to. Then abruptly the hand dropped away from the glass, the sparks disappearing and the sense of aloneness and cold returned to him.

There was a moment in which neither moved, then he seemed to understand what his bot was about to do and stepped away from the glass. With a flash, light shot from one of the metal fingers and then slid swiftly across the glass surface. A second later the majority of the glass fell out of the window; Sam heard it smash two floors below on the hard pavement, as the cold air rushed into the heated room. He stepped forward as Bumblebee slid his hand inside, the very tips of those digits brushing deftly and carefully against his cheek and across his lips before repeating it in reverse.

"Sam." The sound of the voice that now seemed to fill his head caused him to let out a slight moan and turn his face more fully into the caress, nuzzling against the alloy fingers that he noted had been warmed to avoid causing him discomfort.

"Sam." This time the voice was slightly sharper, and the fingers were no longer moving against him. He opened his eyes and looked up to the blue optics, discerning that they were not focused on him, but rather over his shoulder. He didn't want to turn around to know what had transfixed his autobot, like a child playing peek-a-boo who thinks someone is gone because they can't see them. But he had to, turning slowly around until he could make out the form of his parents, standing just outside the open door, both of them apparently completely stunned and unmoving, a can of what appeared to be coke clutched in his mothers white knuckled grip, condensation dripping onto the floor.

"Mum… Dad…" He had no idea what else one could say in a situation like this, but he made no move to detach himself from B's hand, a fact that he noticed seemed to bring great satisfaction to the bot.

"Mr and Mrs Witwicky." The sound of Bumblebee's voice appeared to cause them more distress, and Sam was aware of how it must look to his parents. He was aware that it was made even stranger, and probably a little intimidating, to see the piercing optics and the robotic face staring over his head at them, a hand almost wrapped around his neck and shoulders. But he didn't need his parents to approve of what he and B had found together, he just hoped they would come to accept.

They stuttered like frightened school children in the doorway before eventually stepping into the room and closing the door. His father seemed the worst for wear, his hands shaking and needing to lean heavily against the bed frame for support. His mother seemed dead, her face ashen white and her eyes glazed and unfocused. He wanted to hug her, to reassure her that everything was ok, even though it wasn't. But he couldn't do it. B's grip was firm around him, a soldier reading the field of battle before allowing troops to engage, unsure of where his footing would be with two people who he barely knew, not trusting them not to hurt Sam in the process. The grip was a silent command not to leave, one he couldn't disobey.

"Sam," His father's voice was strangely strangled, like someone unable to swallow. "What exactly is going on here?" He closed his eyes and let out a breath. He didn't even know how to begin to describe it. He suspected that a human simply wasn't capable of understanding it, at least not on the correct level.

"Sam and I conducted a spark binding." Bumblebee's voice seemed to surprise his parents again, as though even with him standing right in front of them they could not really accept the concept of a sixteen foot robot that could turn into a car.

"Sam?" The way his father said it, his name carried both a request for more explanation and that the explanation not be what it sounded like.

"I'm sorry dad. I know you won't approve, and I know you'll be disappointed, but," Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes and he felt B's hand curl more protectively around him, the palm resting against his shoulder, fingers curving down over his chest while the thumb pressed against his back rubbed gently up and down his spine. "It just happened. It wasn't planned, I didn't set out to do this, there's just, something, with B that I've never felt with anyone else. Way beyond anything I felt for Mikaela. I didn't want to do anything about it, I refused, believe me it scared and confused me more than even you could possibly comprehend." He paused, one of his hands clenching on a metal finger.

"But, since I'm going to die anyway, can't I at least have this?" The finger stroking his back stilled at the mention of his death, the grip tightened from protective to possessive in a fraction of a second. Opposite him both his parents blanched whiter yet again.

"It's not that Sam, you know we want you to be happy, but this isn't happy. You're obviously deluding yourself into thinking this because you're afraid of dying alone. It's a robot, an alien, it's your god damn car. You can't actually fall in love with it." His father's words were angry, but more from frustration and fear than actual ill temper, a man distraught over the impending death of his son and watching the visions for his own future die with him. Sam shook his head in exasperation.

"You don't understand dad, and that's ok." And it was. He didn't feel upset about it, he knew they couldn't understand it, and for that he actually felt a small twinge of sympathy.

"I don't think it's possible for someone to understand who hasn't felt it. It's ok if you can't approve of this, I don't need your approval, but can you please at least not judge me for it?" His voice got smaller towards the end, sinking like his eyes were doing as they dropped to the tiled floor below.

"I don't want to spend my last weeks estranged." It wasn't his father's voice that answered him.

"We won't judge you sweetie, I swear." His mother's voice was broken, someone who has been so defeated by something they don't expect to recover again afterwards. She shook and gently set the soft drink down on the bedside table as she wrapped her arms around her shoulders.

"Please stop fighting. I don't want us torn apart over something that's so trivial given that we're about to lose our son." The last word was directed at his dad, and he felt Bumblebee's hand loosen, the threat assessment complete, silent permission given for him to go to her, and he took the three steps across the room and enfolded her in a hug. A second later he felt the warmth of his father's arms go around both of them, as he gently wiped away her tears.

"There may be an alternative." For a minute no one said anything. Sam almost thought he'd imagined Bumblebee's voice until his parents began to pull away from him.

"A way to save me?" There was a faint whirring as his head nodded up and down.

"Indeed. I came here to get you." His heart beat heavily against his chest as his arms loosened from his mother, seeing the small ray of longing cross both his parents faces.

"Will it work?" His father sounded alive again, the beginnings of his old confidence returning, the voice once again sounding like the man who had grounded him, then quietly told him that it was alright, and let him off.

"I do not know. The probability of success is quite low, but doing nothing will result in almost certain death within a matter of weeks. This at least has a chance." His mother grabbed his father's hand, both of them moving away from him a little bit as he stared up at B's glowing optics.

"Why hasn't someone else suggested this then?" It wasn't an accusation in his father's voice, nor was it disbelief, it almost seemed as though his dad was readying himself for bad news. And that was the kicker wasn't it. If it had really been a viable option then surely Ratchet or Optimus would have said something by now, even the doctor had uttered not a peep.

"Because in order for it to work would mean becoming fugitives, possibly hunted, for a very long time. Sam may never be able to come back and live a normal life." The blue stare seared him with its intensity.

"But he would have a life." The air seemed to crackle with energy between them. He had no idea what Bumblebee had planned, but he knew it was bad. Astronomically so, if no one else had considered it. But he had thought only moments ago about how he would never doubt him, and he didn't doubt now. He would gladly do it if B said it could work, if there was a chance, and if B wanted him to.

The sharp unnatural ring of a cell phone shattered the momentary stillness of the room, his mother actually screaming slightly in surprise. It came from the sideboard, the phone sitting next to his father's wallet, meant to be turned off in a hospital, that precaution obviously forgotten in their grief and haste. His father slowly picked it up and pressed the button, placing it to his ear and speaking. It seemed the person on the other end only spoke for brief seconds before hanging up, and his dad looked at the plastic handset before dropping it back onto the shelf and turning back rapidly.

"We have to go. Now." He reached down to the small bag they'd brought with them, pulling out a pair of his jeans, some boxers and a t-shirt. His shoes were already at the end of his bed. His dad screwed them into a ball, not caring about creases and folding.

"Section 7 is coming here." Sam's eyes automatically lifted to Bumblebee before he realised his dad had been staring at him.

"They're after you. We need to take you to where the others of his friends are." He pointed at Bumblebee, already gathering up everything and shoving it into the now empty bag.

"No." The autobot's voice pierced their activity and the elder Witwicky's stopped and stared.

"We cannot go there. If Sam and I have any chance of saving him we cannot go back to Prime." The blue optics swivelled back and forth between Sam and his parents.

"We must take a different road." 'so say your goodbye's now' seemed to automatically add itself to the end of his sentence, the knowledge that this could be the last time he saw either his mother or father for a long time making him stumble over how to go about it. His father seemed to suffer no such problem and swiftly crushed him against his chest.

"Be careful alright? I don't know where you're going or how but promise me as soon as you have a chance to contact us you'll do it, even if it's just an email to tell us you're ok." He nodded in a daze, taking the clothes as they were pressed into his hands before his mother was gripping him even more tightly than his dad.

"Be safe. We'll be thinking of you, and remember, no matter how bad things are, or how far you go, always remember you can come home again." She squeezed him tighter, and he could feel her tears pressed against his cheek.

"Always." She pressed a kiss to his head, resting her cheek against his hair for a minute before gently pushing him away towards the window.

"And you," her finger pointed at B as he was extending his hand for Sam to step into, "you'd better not let anyone hurt so much as a hair on his head, you understand?" It seemed absurd for his mother, a crying human, to threaten a creature such as B, in the same way it had seemed ridiculous for her to block the path of Section 7 when they'd barged into the house, but B made no attempt to deny or dispute her right to request it of him.

"The only way anything will ever damage him is if I am already dead by its hand." There was an absolute seriousness to the voice that not even his parents could possibly deny having heard, and after a second his mother nodded, before grabbing her handbag and turning to the door. B gently lifted him up and out of the building before lowering him down to the ground, setting him well clear of the broken window glass before transforming. As he got into the opened drivers door, the last sound he heard was his father's yell from above.

"Just remember Sam," he looked up to see only the head and shoulders sticking out through the missing section of glass, "when you come home, make sure you stay on the path." He smiled in a kind of pained happiness at that remark, wishing he could go back to a time where that was the most he had to worry about. Beneath him he could feel the engine rev as they turned swiftly away from the car park, tearing through the almost abandoned lot at a speed well above the 5 posted on the signs. The boom gate was down across the exit, a ticket machine next to it, but Bumblebee charged straight through it without hesitation, swerving wildly into the fairly empty street beyond.

And straight into the path of a dozen black SUV's.

Unpleasant memories assaulted Sam's mind at the memory of those cars, their brief interrogation and the fear he'd felt at those people knowing about Bumblebee. The thought made him unconsciously grip the leather seat beside him, feeling their bond connecting them as he sat in only the flimsy hospital gown, felt both B's engine and his spark humming around him. It wasn't like it had been, though he had no doubt that it would take very little work to stimulate themselves to that again, but it was good, safe, comfortable, content, complete. It was a feeling of satiety that he was sure all the sex, drugs and money in the world would never have been able to give him. And as they flew between the oncoming SUV's he rubbed a hand over the leather, knowing that Bumblebee understood what he was saying. If they didn't come back from this, if they died without a chance to talk again.

Thank you for coming back for me. Thank you for saving me. Thank you for sacrificing everything for me.

It meant just as much to him to know that no thanks would ever be necessary.

The squeal of tyres from behind them announced that the drivers had recovered from their surprise at being expected, and were rapidly recovering. Soon the black motorcade was strung out behind them like a tail, and stuck to them just as firmly. Around them the little traffic that was still on the roads beeped and swerved wildly to get out of their way. Sam felt B jerk and slide around him as he avoided running into anything while trying to make it as difficult for the human drivers behind them to follow. In the driver's seat, the belt tightened until Sam could barely move, strapping him in with a grip even superman would have a hard time breaking. On the dash he could see the speedo and tacho steadily climbing, the speeds reaching dangerous levels for narrow city streets. The less congested freedom of the expressway was not far off however, and as they climbed the entrance to the outbound lanes the needles surged again, the multiple lanes giving B room to accelerate around traffic. Unfortunately, it also allowed the trucks behind them to manoeuvre and fan out, and with a pop Sam heard something hit the rear windscreen, followed by another, and another.

"B, they're shooting at us!" His voice was slightly panicked, not only because he feared they would be caught, but now also because he feared Bumblebee getting hurt. They may have been tough, but he had seen Decepticons injured by human weapons. B would be no different.

"I know. We do not need to escape them for long, only a few more miles." They were leaving most of town behind, heading east, inland, out into the desert. Behind them the passengers of the trucks appeared to have realised their bullets were not being very effective and seemed to have paused in their barrage. Sam wondered if they had armour piercing rounds, and if they'd be any more effective. If B was injured he wouldn't have the first clue what to do for him, and no way to get help.

The jolt came as a surprise to him, the second one throwing his head back against the headrest as he looked into the mirror. His heart was racing and everything was shaking, but he was steady enough to see one of the vehicles had rammed them in an attempt to stop them. Beside them a pitch black fender inched its way up level with his window, the taller vehicle towering over him like a black metal wall. On the other side he could see a third getting into the same position. With a crunch the car on the right smashed into the passenger door. He didn't need to see it to know the pain it had caused B, feeling a trickle of it sparkle up through the seat into him. The same was done on his side, jerking him in his seat and causing the belt to crush painfully into his ribcage.

Somewhere outside, a shockwave of sound thundered across B's skin, rattling the windows and shaking the air in Sam's chest. It sounded like a sonic boom, something crossing the sound barrier, but he doubted Bumblebee was travelling that fast.

"Yes. Almost there." He looked up ahead, seeing the long stretching span of the gorge bridge, the concrete roadway held up above the canyon floor by the delicate seeming suspension cables, balanced atop the towers at each end. He felt B accelerate a final time, pulling away from the 3 cars that had boxed him in, desperately trying to gain a lead on them. Another boom rocked the car, this time much closer and he watched as a fighter jet flashed across the span of the bridge, obviously accelerating past mach one and flying along the gorge, before performing an elegant barrel roll and loop in order to turn around and head back.

There was a thump as B's tyres hit the start of the bridge, the regular knocking sound of the bridge joints passing underneath sounding almost like a clock ticking off the seconds as they approached the far side. His eyes widened as flame lit up the night sky to the right, two small projectiles separated from the jet, the missile's rockets bathing everything in flickering reds and yellows. Sam held his breath as the towers on the other side of the gorge rose up before them, and then with a flash they were through; safely back on solid ground, and then B slammed on the brakes and squealed to a halt, the seatbelt releasing as he did so.

The line of black SUV's was halfway across the bridge behind them when the missiles slammed into it, the fireball completely engulfing the vehicles and hiding them from view. There was a metallic twang and the entire bridge vibrated like a streamer caught in the wind. It almost seemed to come alive, like a snake held down at both ends as it rippled back and forth along its length, and then finally snapped near the centre. The two huge suspension cables parted, swinging back towards the edges of the gorge, the support towers on the side they had come from gave way with them, the steel beams and girders bending and twisting like matchsticks. The noise of the collapse filled the air with a screeching moan that sounded like the wailing of a thousand lost souls, slowly fading as they peeled away from the edge of the cliff, tilting like drunken sailors before crumbling down the side. The roadway managed to defy gravity for an instant after that, the thin strip of metal and concrete like a wafer stretched across a manhole, before it too then succumbed to gravity, and sent itself and everything on it plummeting towards the river below.

Sam sat there stunned, hands tight on the seat as the implication of what had just happened hit him full in the chest. All those people dead.

"What was that B?" His voice trembled and he swore he could feel his autobot running scans on him to make sure he was ok.

"I needed to call in some help. I didn't know if I'd be able to get you out on my own." There was a roar as the jet came back again, circling over the ruined bridge, the light of the flames still painting the red cliff walls like blood.

"Starscream was prepared to assist." It all started to come together then, the slim chance, the way no one else had said anything about it, the need to leave and not go to Optimus or the other Autobots.

"You made a deal with him." There was no accusation in his tone, he wasn't capable of it. He knew if B had been dying he would have done the same thing. And he had warned him, told him they would be fugitives, possibly forever.

"I did what I had to do to save you." As he had made no accusation, B made no apology.

"I suggest you hold on tight, this could be rough." The seatbelt clamped around him again as Starscream shot over the top of them, Sam momentarily amazed at how much larger the Decepticon was compared to Bumblebee, even in his plane form. Changed to their humanoid forms he had to be at least thirty feet to the Autobot's sixteen. He flew off for a brief distance before looping around over the canyon and approaching them again. He felt Bumblebee take off, the acceleration pressing him back into his seat, almost as though he hoped to flee from the approaching jet. But as he watched he saw the sleek silver shape change slightly until he could see two hands slip out of the other bot's body, taking him a second to steady himself in flight, then he was plunging toward them. B surged ahead, picking up more speed, and with a sudden jerk and a bounce the asphalt disappeared beneath them and they were airborne.

The locks on the doors clicked on while the AC went into heating, their rate of ascent much faster than any jetliner he'd ever been on, his ears popping almost continuously. The ground was a dark blanket spread out below them, the occasional string of streetlights the only sign of habitation and he huddled down into B's seat, clutching his bundle of clothes, now his only possessions, to his chest. His voice was pitifully small in the cabin, the rush of the air outside abnormally loud without the engine and road noise he could normally hear.

"Where are we going B?" A soothing vibration began in his chair, a tingle travelling up his spine as sparks ignited where one of his hands gently touched the centre console.

"The Marianas Trench. Deepest point on your planet."

Fin

Wow that's long… Really long. There won't be another one of these for a while I can tell you that, but there was nowhere to really break it up. Oh well.

Hope you guys like.

Assuming anyone's reading it and everyone's not off reading Harry Potter lol. And if you DARE tell me the ending god help you I will hunt you down and club you then eat your bones! I'm not one of these people who had to rush out and buy it straight away but when I get around to it I want it to be a surprise:)