The day grows steadily darker outside the windows of his and Carly's garage. The occasional honk of a horn and steady hum of the streets filters in through the thick walls, muted, but audible.

He sits on a work bench that they never use, unconsciously rubbing his thumbs together, hands clasped, as he thinks. Bumblebee is sitting there as a shiny new Camaro, and sensing his friend's need for silence, hasn't said anything.

Sam knows that sooner or later Bee's going to snap. It's just a matter of when. Then maybe they'll talk like they used to in California, in his parent's massive, sweltering garage with the worn, grey wood and the sunlight that streamed through the rafters, making the dust particles dance and fall like feathers. It's new here, in D.C- smaller garage, brighter, and cleaner- not to mention air conditioned- but Bee's still the same, the one constant that never changes. It was like that when he sat in Sam's apartment after he got attacked by Lazerbeak and the NEST gate guards. What a refreshing dose of reality that had been for him then- nothing like having a giant robotic alien around to keep you on your toes. But neither one of them is talking, and the silence stretches on.

He doesn't even know why he came down here- not to talk, exactly, maybe just to think. He can't do it upstairs with Wheelie jabbering away, hiding his hurt for Brains' absence by flipping noisily through the channels and cursing at whoever is on. He can't think in the big, bright, empty space where their bed is- he feels like his thoughts are echoing off the walls and being thrown right back at him, or absorbed and noted by some stranger.

So he came down here. And here he sits, thinking. About something that didn't even register until an hour ago.

Dylan.

He had other things on his mind the whole time during Chicago. The city crumbling around him and beneath him, the heat of plasma cannons blasting over his head and the screeches of missiles, the rapid fire of machine guns and the soldier's heavy voices, and the overwhelming fear and desperation to make this planet safe for his family, for his friends.

And then…Dylan.

He's not a murderer. But he's still a killer.

And funny enough, that's not what bothers him.

"Baby, tell me what's on you mind." sang Bee's radio.

Sam almost smiles. "Just…stuff. It's nothing to worry about, okay Bee?" he stands and walks over, patting the hood of the car as he makes his way around it, heading for the door.

Before he can get there, the Camaro starts moving and Sam backs up as at last, with a noise like blades sliding out of sheaths, Bumblebee is crouching in his small garage, blue eyes bright and earnest.

Sam settles back down on the bench, knowing if the scout is set on talking, he'd damn well better talk, unless he wants to hurt his feelings.

"That's- not the answer were looking for."

Sam rolls his eyes. "Me? I've got nothing on my mind, what about you?"

"I got a pocket, got a pocket full of sunshine-" He's doing this on purpose.

"Stop." growls Sam, throwing out a hand as the lyrics hit him. "Please-stop."

The radio goes silent with a zipping noise, and Bumblebee looks down at him, indignant.

Sam sighs. "Fine. You want to know?"

Bee nods earnestly with a curious chirp.

Sam sobers, eyes growing heavy. "I'm a killer, Bee."

The robot stares at him.

"But that's not the bad part, I guess. What's bothering me is that…it doesn't bother me. I don't feel guilty, and…isn't that just wrong?"

Bumblebee blinks.

"I don't know." says Sam, sighing and rubbing the back of his neck tiredly. "Maybe he deserved it. But Charlotte Mearing was right. That's not what I'm cut out for- I'm not soldier. I just…" He looks down, rubbing his thumbs together again.

"Kindergarten." Says Bee, in Sam's voice.

The boy smiles at the word from their conversation months ago. "Yeah. Kindergarten."

Bumblebee chirps again. "Sam- I know this is hard- you did the right thing, man!"

"That's what everyone keeps telling me." Sam snaps, feeling annoyed. "I get it. But I killed someone, Bee. And I know I've killed before now"- an image of Megatron in Mission City flashes through his mind- "and maybe that's why this doesn't feel like a big deal to me, but it is." He hesitates. "Isn't it?"

Bumblebee is silent, his optics wide, as if he is focused on something else.

"Bee?"

The giant robot shifts to the right, away from the garage door, turning his head as he did so.

Carly stood in the doorway.

His breath caught.

She takes a hesitant step forward, blue eyes sad and uncertain. "Sam?" she whispers.

He doesn't say anything, just stands there, radiating embarrassment and disbelief, and not quite sure what to do. Bumblebee is no help, his optics flickering from one human to the other and back again.

Finally, she breaks the awkward silence. "Do… Do you want to talk about it?"

Hasn't he already? "I am talking about it."

"I heard." she says sheepishly.

"I know." he replies, wincing inside.

Finally, she lets out a sigh, looking slightly agitated. "Sam, he's right. You didn't do anything wrong."

He shakes his head, sliding back down onto the bench again. She needs to understand. "I don't feel bad about what I did, Carly. That's just the problem. I don't feel anything. Why don't I feel anything?"

He hears her shoes on the garage floor as she comes to stand in front of him, before sliding down, perched on the edge of an ancient Mo-ped neither of them have ever used. He can feel her blue, blue eyes staring at him as she leans forward, her voice wrapping around his skin like silk. "You killed Megatron six years ago." she begins, surprising him. "And in the time you've known them," she glances up at Bee, nodding to him, "you know that they're people, not so different from us. And Megatron is a Cybertronian, too. He was once just like them, but then he chose the wrong side, just like Dylan did with us. That might be why, Sam. This isn't anything new. Megatron was a person, too. A psychotic, evil person, but he still was one. And you've done this before."

He looks up at her, staring into her impossibly blue eyes. He knows exactly what she means. Knowing the Autobots made you look at Decepticons differently. "Optimus called Megatron his brother, after all that he did…if you can believe it." Even Megatron had once been like them.

"I can." she assures him. "But don't you see, Sam that's the point. In your mind, whether you realized it or not, you've done this before. Yes, Megatron was bad," she admits, "but you did exactly what had to be done. Killing Dylan next to having to do that, it's no wonder it wasn't so memorable. And your conscious knows, whether you do or not, that it was the right thing, and you shouldn't be feeling bad about it. Have you ever felt bad about killing Megatron?"

He felt bad that he didn't stay dead. "No."

She stares at him with deep, penetrating eyes that question- and know- his sanity. "Then why should you feel bad about this?"

He swallows and shakes his head. "I don't know. But still, it's…" He couldn't say it, not here, in front of Bumblebee. The Autobots were people, yeah, but it was just so hard trying to imagine Frenzy or Starscream on the same plane as Dylan. The Autobots were people and deserved to be treated like them. But when it came to killing…normally you just don't put killing a person and killing a Cybertronian on the same level. It just feels different.

But now, looking at it through Carly's eyes- eyes that are already seeing so much in this world for being around them so short a time- he realizes that they're really on the same plane. And that it's not that different at all. He has done this before. And next to killing Megatron, killing Dylan was like taking down a gnat compared to a whole hornet's nest.

And Dylan, who was as much of a Decepticon as Sam was an Autobot, had just popped up in his way like that…it had just happened.

"I know. I know." Carly says, resting a reassuring hand on his knee. And then she pauses, seeming to think again. "Do you remember how Optimus fought in that forest battle that you told me about, to save your life?"

As if he'd ever forget. "Clearly."

"Those Decepticons were as human to him as I am to you, Sam. They were once his brothers. And he fought them to a brutal death to protect what he knew was right." She smiles. "Optimus is a saint. He doesn't think himself as one, but he is. Without him, we wouldn't be standing here to talk about this. He is such a good person, but when we're in danger, he will take down anyone he has to, violently, to protect us. Tell me what were you thinking of when you hit Dylan."

He looks into her eyes, remembering it all in flashes. "The Pillar. And the world. And you."

Her gaze is as steady as the sun. "You weren't angry at him."

"I was that night."

She doesn't hesitate. "Why?"

Sam blinks in surprise. "Because he tried to kill you. Because he made a spy for the Autobots." He can't look at Bumblebee.

"See?" Carly demands, shaking him a bit. "Optimus does what he does because he loves us, the Autobots, and NEST, and you, so much that he'd kill anyone who tried to threaten us and peace we protect. And you've never batted an eyelash at that. You killed one person- and probably not even on purpose- because you were protecting us, Sam. Me. Bumblebee. The world. You didn't go after Dylan; he stood in your way. He sought you out, and he was cowarding little bitch that got exactly what he asked for." she snarls, and he knows she'll never forgive his ghost for what happened. "This doesn't bother you because it shouldn't. You are guiltless, just as you should be."

But that comparison is just a little too much for him. "I'm not Optimus, Carly."

"No. But whatever Charlotte Mearing says, you are a hero."

No, no he's not. But everything else she says just makes so much sense now, that he's surprised he hasn't seen it before.

Wow. This girl really is something.

"Bee?" he says, turning to his guardian.

"I've seen fire, and I've seen rain- I've been over the hill and back again, kid, it's-no deal!" he shrugs his massive shoulders. "What she said." says a D.J.

Sam smiles. And then he reaches over and takes Carly's hand in his, and squeezes it gently. "Sorry. I guess I've been moping."

She smirks back at him. "Not really, but you will be soon."

He raises his eyebrows.

"Your parents are here, and you've got a meeting with the Chinese government at ten and another with Mearing at twelve."

His smile slips off his face; she laughs. "You've got to be kidding me."

She smiles and stands, tugging on his hand. "C'mon, mister Future Ambassador. Let's get you looking good for the world." she folds his collar over, then steals a quick kiss.

He smiles down at her then glances up at Bee.

"Aw, go on, go on, I ain't watchin!" his radio exclaims, and he waves his hands.

Sam laughs; Carly grins. "I'm starting to really like this bot."

"Trust me, once the shock of him being an alien wears off, you'll see he's just like the rest of us."

Bee made a rude noise.

Carly smiles softly and links her fingers between his and pulls him towards the door of the garage to go out and face the world. Right as they reach it, though, Sam glances back and locks eyes with Bumblebee. And in that look, he expresses what could never be described in words; gratitude, appreciation, and everything else that he always feels after these little conversations of theirs in garages.

Bumblebee simply nods in return. Being one who has lost his voice for years, he doesn't need words to understand. He just knows.