Hello again~ Welcome to our new fic! For those of you who are reading our others, we will be updating them soon. Its just that this story has been nagging us for the past few days, and I just HAD to write it down. So! Without further ado, enjoy!
x-(-X-X-)-x
Chapter One
The Clinic
Dark, mocha brown hair flew through the air as the bloodied and bruised face snapped to the side from the force of the blow. Deep, brown and blue eyes were dull with pain as the owner of the eyes cowered into a ball, whimpering in the back of her throat. It hurt...it hurt so much.
Samantha 'Sam' Witwicky bit down on the bottom of her lip to keep from crying out when the metal baseball bat connected to her right leg, shattering the bone. He was angry – very angry. This was the anger that Sam had only seen a few times in her life – the first being when he had lost his job at the local retail store. The other times she couldn't remember – the beatings had been so bad she wasn't able to remember anything that had happened until weeks later.
"YOU LITTLE FREAK!" her 'father', Ronald Witwicky screamed, bending down and grabbing the seventeen year old by her hair, yanking her head to glare at her swollen face. "If you had never been fucking born, the fucking government would never have come here! Do you fucking realize how close they were to discovering the fucking business that is keeping this family fucking alive!" he screamed into her face, spittle flying everywhere. Sam whimpered in fear and pain as the man threw her into the glass table. She winced as she felt the glass cut into her skin.
"They were this fucking close to closing us down! All because you," here, he began to hit her with the bat again, "couldn't," on the middle of her back, "fucking," on her right arm, "keep," back on her leg, "your fucking," her sides were struck with heavy, bruising force, "head down!" This time, it was a blow to the back of the neck, nearly causing the beaten girl to black out, but she pushed past the darkness that was creeping into her vision, knowing that she couldn't fall unconscious yet. She had to stay awake so that when her 'father' was done, she could leave and get herself cleaned up. Because she knew that if she blacked out now, she wouldn't wake up in time to stop Bumblebee from finding out about her secret.
No one knew that her 'father' abused her; save for her step mother, Rita, who encouraged it, going so far as to build a sound proof room where Sam's screams of pain wouldn't be heard. Thankfully, the blonde haired woman wasn't here at the moment, away on a 'business' trip – and she uses the term 'business trip' very lightly – in Miami for the next week and a half. It was both great and terrible news for the seventeen year old.
Great, because now she wouldn't have to listen to the elder woman's scathing comments about her appearance and other such verbal abuse she oh so loved to dish out, and terrible because now, her 'father' didn't have anything to distract him with. And when Ronald Witwicky wasn't able to spend time with his 'sugar bunny' he immediately took his aggression out on the closest person there; Sam.
When the metal bat hit against her broken leg again, Sam couldn't help the small, involuntary gasp of pain that escaped her bleeding mouth. Dual colored eyes closed and she prayed; prayed that he hadn't heard it. It only made him angry when Sam cried out during one of his beatings. "A true Witwicky doesn't make a sound during a beating, freak!"
So when the man only hit her three more times before throwing the bloodied bat down, shouting at her to 'clean this fucking mess up or else' before leaving to go drink himself to a stupor, it was then, and only then, she let the tiniest of smiles flicker onto her face when she was sure he was gone.
It seemed, for once, that Lady Luck was on her side.
Closing her dual colored eyes, the girl quickly went over a mental list of her injuries, cataloging them from 'serious' to 'okay'.
Head: minor concussion, bruising, two inch gash just above right eye. Easily hidden by her bangs after getting about four, six stitches.
Neck: excessive bruising, strained muscles, bruised bone, minor cuts on neck. Long, thin scratch from mid throat to collar bone; deepest part may require two or three stitches.
Back and chest: bruising to muscles and ribs, no internal bleeding, thank Primus. Three gashes, maybe four, that will require stitches. Glass shards in a variety of minor cuts.
Right arm was probably sprained at the elbow, along with about three gashes from the shoulder to her forearm. Might be okay without stitches, but would have to watch for infection. Left arm was pretty much the same, though her fingers were a little sore. Glass shards in the back of her triceps and forearms of both arms.
Pelvis area was relatively unscathed, though, when she shifted around, there were a few pieces of glass lodged in her muscles. Definitely some bruises all around though.
Left leg was fine, a few gashes in her calves along with glass, but unharmed for the most part. A deep, bone bruise just below her knee accompanied the assortment of bruises and scratches of that leg.
Her right leg: broken. In about...two places. Hopefully, they were clean breaks; she didn't have enough money to go into surgery if her bone had splintered. Like the rest of her body, she had an assortment of bruises and cuts littering the back and front, though there was a large piece of glass in her calf that was slightly worrying.
Frowning, she opened her eyes and forced herself to sit up, biting her lip harshly at the blinding pain that rocketed down her spine. Inhaling sharply, but deeply, she quickly examined the piece of glass, mentally going over her anatomy list. If the glass was near a major artery, then she was just going to leave it, and let the doctor take it out. If it was fine, she would take it out and pack it before she left.
Gently prodding it, she was relieved to find that it had missed her anterior tibia artery by a good four, five inches. Next, came the hard part; removing the glass shard without damaging her leg further. The brunet took in several deep, calming breathes, ignoring the slight twinge her lungs and ribs made at the movement, concentrating on forcing her nerves to calm down. When she was satisfied by the now dull, aching of her body, she opened her eyes again, grasped the glass shard, and ripped it from her leg.
A choked, strangled scream died in the back of her throat, her vision beginning to form black spots at the wave of lighting pain. Shaky breathes escaped from her throat as she fought to calm down her racing heart. The faster her heart beat, the more the blood would escape from her abused, lanky body.
It took several minutes before she was able to completely calm down, and by then, her leg had slowed the blood flow to a sluggish state.
Gritting her teeth, she quickly pulled out the dark purple bandana she had worn that day and tied it tightly around her leg, ignoring the pain that the action roused from the movement. Releasing a sigh of relief, exhaustion and pain, she closed her eyes, counted to ten, then began to shakily get to her feet, wincing at the sharp pain that radiated from her hips down wards. Shaking her head softly, the abused teenager stood on shaky legs for a moment as the room spun viciously around her, before hobbling over to where the cleaning supplies were and set to her task of cleaning most of the broken glass and blood away.
She was eternally grateful that Ronald had listened to her, for once, and replaced all the carpet floors with hardwood seven years ago. That had been one hell of a tough time convincing him, with a vicious beating thrown in...or two; but even he and Rita couldn't argue with the fact that blood was easier to clean off of wood than it was carpet. Less likely to stain as well.
It took her just over eighteen minutes to clean up her 'mess' before she was satisfied that her 'father' wouldn't notice anything amiss once he awoke from his drunken stupor the next morning. Nodding to herself, Sam hobbled up to her room, being careful when she passed her father's room where the sounds arousal filled moans seeped through the wooden panelings. She wrinkled her nose in disgust, feeling the urge to gag when she heard Rita's voice over a speaker.'Gag me with a spoon please,' she thought disgustedly, entering the safety of her bedroom.
There wasn't much in her room; just a plain, metal bunk bed with hospital like sheets, a thick green comforter laying messily near the foot of the bottom bunk, an old looking mahogany desk with various papers, her Iron Man red Alienware M17x R4 laptop and black iPhone strewn across it. Her heavy black school pack was thrown into the space between desk and the large mahogany dresser. A set of silver green gym lockers rested against the dark blue wall, covering the large, head sized hole. A dark black curtain was pushed to the side, draped across the top half of her locker, showing off the small bathroom with the porcelain tub and toilet. A small shrine dedicated to her birth mother, Judy, who had died shortly after Sam's birth thanks to the injuries she had sustained after a fatal four way car accident, sat elegantly next to her bed.
Sam looked at the picture of the smiling woman, whose dark brown eyes were sparkling with happiness and joy, a single hand placed atop her round, pregnant belly, the other supporting the bottom of it. The woman was wear a simple, light blue flower patterned maternity shirt with a pair of dark gray sweat pants that hung low on her hips. Her light, auburn hair was pulled back into a messy pony tail, held together with a piece of red ribbon.
They had been visiting Sam's Aunt Lisa, her mother's elder sister who had died when Sam was eight, when the picture had been taken, at a family barbecue According to the elder woman, who had given the beautiful picture to Sam for her fourth birthday, it had been taken two days before Judy had died. Sam smiled sadly as she picked up the wooden frame, absently tracing the burnt figures of flowers and bees whither a blood stained finger. Her mother had just entered her eighth month at the time, and looked exhausted, but was radiating so much happiness, Sam sometimes felt as if her mothers happiness had been engraved inside of the picture.
Judy had been so excited when she found out that she was pregnant, as had Ron, and both hadn't stopped themselves from going all out. At the time, they had been planning on Sam being a boy, as, usually, only boys where born in the Witwicky family, and if a girl was born, she was usually the second born. Never, in over six-hundred years, had there been a first born girl Witwicky.
So it was a great shock to the Witwicky family when they discovered that, for the first time in six centuries, Ron and Judy Witwicky were going to be having a first born girl. Everyone in the family; distant cousins, aunts, uncles, grandparents as old as dirt and that she had never met before, knew her name as she made history with her birth.
In her own way, she was popular amongst her father's family. Just not with him.
He blamed her for Judy's death, even though Judy hadn't even died from the emergency C-section, but the accident itself. The doctors had said that Judy hadn't even gotten to hold her before her heart gave out and she died, gazing at the wailing baby girl with such love and tenderness, a few of the nurses had to leave the heart breaking scene.
Ron had tired to care for her; he honestly had. He had been a kind, loving father for the first few years of her life; always playing with her and being with her.
Everything changed when he met Rita. He came staggering home later and later, drunk off his ass. He began to ignore her and push her away. When he had first hit her, it had been an accident, and had been so shocked and angry with himself when he did it. He had sworn that he would never do it again, then promptly canceled the date with Rita that night and stayed home with her, eating ice cream and watching Disney movies. She had been three at the time.
He had lied.
The small smacks on the face turned into whippings with the belts, then with switches. Over time, it turned into full blown beatings. It was a progressive thing; not happening immediately, but instead, within a span of years. Sometimes, when Rita was gone, the 'old' Ron would come back and just sit down and talk to his daughter, and they would laugh and joke with each other.
Sam guessed that was the only reason why she had never tried to commit suicide or leave; because there was a chance, no matter how small, that her real father, would come back.
The last time the 'old' Ron had 'come back', had been the time that Ron gave Sam two grand to buy herself a car.
A car that later turned out to be a giant, intergalactic robot from the planet Cybertron, which was over three hundred billion light years away. An intergalactic robot that caused the Federal Government to come knocking down her door and arrest both her and her father and stepmother. An arrest that pissed both parties off, but caused the later to react violently months later, once he was sure that he and his business was safe.
Sam didn't blame Bumblebee or the other Autobots, or even the Federal Government for the beating that their arrival caused. She could never blame them. They were her saviors; they gave her a way out, a place to escape when the troubles became to much.
No, she blamed Rita, who brought her 'father' into that business in the first place; who encouraged him to continue drinking and gambling and beating his daughter. It was Rita's fault that things were like this. One day, she would tell Rita exactly what she thought of the blonde cunt; but not today, or tomorrow, or even this year. She would tell Rita her thoughts and opinions once Sam had left her 'father's' home for good.
A loud, pleasure filled moan from her 'father's' room caused her to grimace in disgust, snapping her out of her thoughts of the past. Glancing at the black, Pikachu shaped clock sitting innocently on the floor next to her bed, Sam released a sigh of relief. She still had about fifteen hours before Bumblebee came back from his mission with the other Autobots and the new members of Non-biological Extraterrestrial Species Treaty (NEST for short).
Bumblebee hadn't wanted to go and leave his young charge alone, but he had had no choice in the matter. With the incoming back up of other Autobots arriving, he had had to go and help prepare everything, though he had made sure that his young charge would be safe from any and all Decepticons for an entire week.
She didn't know exactly what it was called, only that it protected the entire town, meaning she could still go to school, while giving her enough freedom to wander around and hang out with friends. Sighing, a faint smile trickled onto her lips at the thought of her overprotective Guardian as she began to gather her Emergency Bag that she had created when she was little, along with the bag Bumblebee, Ratchet, Ironhide and the former Army Rangers had made for her and Mikaela after the whole Mission City fiasco. Inside both the bags were mainly the same things, though there were a few differences.
In the Original and Autobot packs were various medical supplies to patch up at least twenty people along with three emergency disposable cell phones (one in her original bag, two in the Autobot bag), spare clothes for a week, toiletries (Sam had been beyond flustered when Ratchet had said that part allowed in front of Lennox, Epps, and the others. Thankfully, so had they. It was one thing to know about what happens to a girl once a month; it was a completely different matter to know when it happened.), a large, durable flashlight, batteries, and a small medical book with various types of plants that could be used for medicinal purposes completed the 'same' part of the bags.
A small handgun (a Smith and Wesson Bodyguard 380 Pistol, if she was correct) she had swiped from her father with four magazines, a gun cleaning kit, and a homemade leather holster was stashed at the bottom of her original bag underneath a small, black blanket and her clothes, a Swiss Army knife and a Leatherman pocket knife sat besides it. A small bag of flint and lighters and a flash drive that had a Rich Text file with her name, age, blood type, a copy of her California State ID, birthday, and address on it, along with Miles' contact information rested in the front pocket of the shoulder bag.
In the Autobot bag a standard military issued M-9 Handgun, with an Autobot equivalent, were nestled safely into a pair of holsters etched to the sides of the pack along with a box full of magazines behind the weapons. Another military grade Swiss Army knife and a German Hunting knife that Epps had given her were placed into their own homemade alligator cases that Fig had made while at the hospital. A small, thermal blanket, a thermos, a large water bottle along with two bottles of iodine and a small pot to boil water also accompanied the pack.
Over three thousand dollars of every currency there was on Earth were encased in a small, hidden pouch on the left side of the bag, and a thick, leather bound notebook that the former U.S. Army Rangers had written in with various tips on survival in every possible situation they could think of, which, come to think of it, was a lot, finished the Autobot bag off.
Inspired by the journal, Optimus and his team were even working on their own equivalent of how to deal with rogue Cybertronians, or 'Transformers' as the U.S. Government had begun to call them, and what to do in certain situations, along with a large book filled with the History of Cybertron, after she had expressed her interest in history. When they had given both her and Mikaela the Emergency bags, she had been so touched that they had thought of doing something like that to two civilian girls – though, they weren't really all that 'civilian' any more, thanks to them being wrapped up in layers upon layers of secrecy by order of the United States Government. And while it had made her immensely grateful, it had also made her guilty. Guilty that they, who showed her great trust, was basically being lied to every day.
And when she began to think of telling them, that little voice in the back of her head would always remind her just why she shouldn't tell any one; a voice that sounded much like her 'father's' voice.
Biting her lip, she quickly chased those thoughts away, grabbed her bags and first cell phone in her hands and threw them onto the bed. Gingerly kneeling, she snatched the two stabilizing boards she had made when she was eight along with a piece of rope out from under her bed. A pained grimace crossed her face as she stood back up, but she ignored it for the most part.
Gently sitting on the messy bed, she brought her broken leg to lay flat on the bed, once again grimacing at the sharp pain that wracked her body, before placing the boards besides the bloody limb. With quick, well practiced movements, she began to tie the boards to her leg, never letting her body so much as twitch as she securely tied her leg to the boards. While it would be uncomfortable to walk in, it would help keep her leg from getting even more injured until she made her way to the free clinic which was, thankfully, on the border of the shield Bumblebee had built.
Taking a deep breath, she carefully placed her leg on the floor, testing its weight to make sure it was secure enough – which it was. Pulling on her dark brown jacket, she quickly hooked her guns onto her belt, feeling her muscles begin to relax at the familiar weight of the guns. Grabbing both of the Swiss Army knives, she attached them both to the front of her pants, though made sure they were hidden from view. With a sigh, she carefully twisted around, wincing at the twinge her back and ribs gave at the movement, she pulled on the Autobot bag, which used to be an old mountain hiking backpack, then placed her original bag underneath her bed.
Grabbing her iPhone, the abused brunet hobbled over to her window. Opening it very gently and slowly, to make sure it didn't creak, she quickly began to back herself out once it was fully open, putting her uninjured leg out first, then the injured, and began to climb down, remembering at the last second to close her window, leaving just enough of a crack to get through later on.
She was careful as she climbed down, though she did it quickly, as she didn't want to be caught by Ron, and easily made her way out of the yard, making sure to avoid the motion sensors and the muddy parts of the ground before turning in the direction of the clinic and began to walk.
It wasn't even six minutes into the ten minute walk when her phone began to vibrate. Blinking, she fished it out of her pocket and looked at the caller ID, smiling when she saw Bumblebee's name flashing across the screen. Pressing 'talk', she put it up to her ear and cheerfully greeted the yellow mech. It wasn't a fake cheerfulness either; she was always happy to talk to her Guardian.
"Hiya Bumblebee."
"Hello Sam," Bumblebee's voice greeted back, his slightly British accented voicing making her smile widen. "Are you okay?"
Sam sighed and nodded absently, turning down the corner towards the free clinic, she replied, "Yeah, I'm fine 'Bee, why?"
"Because you don't sound fine Sam. Your voice holds a tint of pain and exhaustion in it." Sam winced. Damn it, she forgot about that. Sighing again, she ran a hand through her bloodied hair, grimacing in disgust at the flaky dried blood.
"I'm fine 'Bee, I swear!" she promised. At the snort of disbelief, she scowled. "Okay, so yes, I'm in a little pain, but I'll be fine as soon as I get to the clinic." She knew that there was no point in trying to lie and say that nothing was wrong with her when he would be home soon, and find her in a cast. Even though she swore she would never tell the Autobots about what her father did to her, didn't mean she would lie about the obvious things. A broken bone was an obvious thing.
Bumblebee's voice was slightly panicky as he said,"The clinic? Why do you have to go to the clinic? Sam?" Sam made a cooing noise in the back of her throat, her eyes flickering towards the building that she was approaching.
"'Bee, it's okay, I promise. Its only a few scratches and bruises, and my leg will heal up once its set and in the cast." She tried to keep her voice reassuring as possible, but knew from the distressed whirring and keening that she wasn't doing that good of a job.
"Samantha, if you don't tell me what happened, I will be sicking Ratchet on you, then locking you into my subspace for an entire year!" Sam winced; 'Bee never called her by her full name unless he was either really mad or really worried. She was betting on the latter as 'Bee never got mad that often. That was left to Ironhide and Ratchet.
"'Bee, you won't have to do that." she said nervously, stopping to sit on a bench outside of the clinic. At the mech's impatient whirring, she once more sighed and said, "I was jumped on the way back from the library earlier," it was partially true – she had been jumped after leaving the library by a group of thugs from Vegas, but they had quickly backed off when she beat three of them into the ground. "and when I got home, dad wasn't there so I just grabbed my stuff and left for the clinic, as the hospital isn't within the boundaries." That was also, partially true; when she had gotten home, her 'father' had still been at work. She had gone into the kitchen to wipe the blood from her hands off and to eat something when he had arrived home. And after the beating, she had grabbed her stuff and left.
While she felt bad for not telling the yellow mech the full truth, she knew he wouldn't be able to handle it, if the sudden dead silence on the other end was any indication. "Umm...'Bee? You still there?"
"Who. Were. They?" came the furious growl. Sam flinched at the growl and shifted her phone from one ear to the other.
"I don't know 'Bee; I think they might have been some thugs from Vegas that came down to look for an 'easy picking'. I managed to get most of them down before they called in reinforcements. But seriously 'Bee, I'm fine."
"Sam..." Bumblebee's voice sounded so agonizingly painful, she nearly broke down right there. It was only through sure willpower that she managed to say, "'Bee, I have to go; my legs' starting to throb really bad and I feel really gross sitting in on my bloody pants. I'll text you as soon as the Doc is finished patching me up, 'kay?"
Silence, before,"Fine, but you have to call me instead of texting; I want to be able to talk to you when you go home, okay? And as soon as we touch down, I want Ratchet to take a look at you, got it?" Sam grinned lightly and nodded, before remembering that Bumblebee couldn't see her. "Yes, 'Bee, I got it. I'll see you in a few, ya?"
"Ya."
"Bye 'Bee."
"Good bye Sam,"Bumblebee's voice was quickly cut off, replaced by static as he abruptly hung up. Brown and blue eyes closed as her heart clenched painfully at the rage and sorrow that undertoned the raw guilt in the mech's voice. Taking a deep breath, she stood and pocketed her phone and walked into the free clinic, her eyes filled with determination as she amended her promise to never tell anyone.
'One day. One day I will tell you Bumblebee, about my father. But not until Rita is long dead. I swear it.'
x-(-X-X-)-x
Bumblebee sighed tiredly, sinking low on his shocks. Currently, the exhausted yellow Autobot was in his alt form inside of a Lockheed C-5 Galaxy that the government had given the Autobots for transportation along with the rest of his team and the new arrivals.
The pick up had been a success; in a span of three Earth days, sixteen Earth hours, and forty-five Earth minutes, they had gained four new Autobot companions – six if you wanted to count Arcee's other two components, though seeing as they were one spark, it didn't really count. And while the Autobot scout was exceedingly happy to see more of his kind, he couldn't wait to get back to Sam.
Sam was his Charge, and he felt uncomfortably being half a world away from her, even with the Energon Boundaries set up. He preferred guarding her with his own two servos, not with a shield. He missed his human; missed hearing her complain about the mechlings at her school trying to touch her aft (he had almost broken Optimus' rule about the whole 'not harming humans' when he had heard that one of the 'football players' had touched his Sam's aft without her permission. It had taken the combined forces of Ironhide, Ratchet, and Optimus to stop him from his rampage, though, later on when they had been alone, they had all expressed their deepest regrets in not letting him go. To his amusement and shock, Will and Epps had volunteered themselves to go talk to the boys at the school. Sam had, sadly, shot them down, saying that she didn't want to raise suspicions in her school.). He missed listening to Sam sing along to her iPod while doing her homework, missed hearing her laugh as he spend well past human limits.
Bumblebee sunk lower on his shocks, a low, barely audible keening emitting from his engine. Will and Epps, who had been standing right next to the yellow mech, turned to look at him, while the other Autobots – save for the newly arrived 'bots – all chuckled.
"Thinking bout Sam again 'Bee?" Will asked, chuckling lightly when the mech sunk even lower. He reached over and patted his hood. "It's alright mech; just a few more hours and we'll be on American Soil again and you can go see the girl."
"I know I know..." Bumblebee grumbled, the pout evident in his voice. The humans chuckled again at the pouting mech, though most were able to sympathize; they were all missing their families.
"Ya know, ya could just call her," Ironhide suggested. If he had been in root mode, you could have seen the smug grin on his face as Bumblebee fell silent.
"Why didn't you tell me sooner!" the mech cried out, his engine revving a bit before the mech settled down. "You are evil, Ironhide."
Ironhide laughed at the pouting tone the yellow mech had before returning to talking to Will and Epps.
Bumblebee settled into a more comfortable position on his shocks as his humans phone rang. He grinned happily when he heard his human's voice, though it was gone just as fast, a frown settling upon his face – which was hidden from view – when he heard the sheer exhaustion and pain she was in. Instantly, he was on alert, raising from his shocks quickly and gaining the others attentions.
"Hiya Bumblebee."
"Hello Sam," Bumblebee greeted in return, making sure to only speak into the phone and not to the others. While he was concerned about his Charge, he still respected her privacy, and wouldn't let anybody else listen in on their conversations. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine 'Bee, why?" She answered, a hint of confusion now lighting her voice.
"Because you don't sound fine Sam. Your voice holds a tint of pain and exhaustion in it." Bumblebee said, concern evident in his voice.
"I'm fine 'Bee, I swear!" she promised. Bumblebee snorted in disbelief. Yeah, and he was a Deception in disguise. He heard her sigh again, even as she said "Okay, so yes, I'm in a little pain, but I'll be fine as soon as I get to the clinic."
And that was when all thoughts of respecting her privacy flew out of the plane, as Bumblebee's voice emitted loudly from the speakers, panic in every word. "The clinic? Why do you have to go to the clinic? Sam?"
Immediately, all attention was on him, though he paid them no mind. His charge was going to the clinic. If she was going to the clinic, then something must have happened, and if something happened either she or her father was hurt, or even Mikaela. Oh no oh no, he knew he should have stayed with Sam. He knew it!
"'Bee, it's okay, I promise. Its only a few scratches and bruises, and my leg will heal up once its set and in the cast." she said in, what she probably thought was a reassuring voice. And while it did calm the Scout a bit, it did nothing to appease his nerves, nor his guilt.
"Samantha, if you don't tell me what happened, I will be sicking Ratchet on you, then locking you into my subspace for an entire year!" he snapped, worry evident in his tone.
"'Bee, you won't have to do that." He could hear the nervousness in her voice, and began to vent air through his systems, though he had to increase the venting with her next words, "I was jumped on the way back from the library earlier, and when I got home, dad wasn't there so I just grabbed my stuff and left for the clinic, as the hospital isn't within the boundaries."
Bumblebee felt his spark stop. His Sam, his human, his Charge, had been attacked. She'd been hurt. She was hurt.
Those words kept echoing over and over again in his CPU, and unconsciously, his bond between his Sparkmate opened, letting his emotions stream down from his spark to his mates. He felt the confusion, before understanding filtered down, and finally, a wave of love embraced his spark. Bumblebee felt his fans kick it up a notch as he struggled to control his fear and guilt, which only increased when he heard his Human's timid voice.
"Umm...'Bee? You still there?"
"Who. Were. They?" he growled angrily, his engine revving. Immediately, the com's between the Cybertronians crashed open as concern, worry, fear, and love rolled over him.
"I don't know 'Bee; I think they might have been some thugs from Vegas that came down to look for an 'easy picking'. I managed to get most of them down before they called in reinforcements. But seriously 'Bee, I'm fine." With each word the girl spoke, his spark felt heavier and heavier. Absently he registered the angry roars of the other Autobots when they heard Sam's words.
"Sam..." Bumblebee knew that his voice sounded so agonizingly painful to all those around him. His Sam was hurt. His Sam was hurt. His Sam was hurt.
"'Bee, I have to go; my legs' starting to throb really bad and I feel really gross sitting in on my bloody pants. I'll text you as soon as the Doc is finished patching me up, 'kay?"
Bumblebee allowed his fans to cool him off a bit further, before he replied. "Fine, but you have to call me instead of texting; I want to be able to talk to you when you go home, okay? And as soon as we touch down, I want Ratchet to take a look at you, got it?"
He heard Sam sigh again, before she replied "Yes, 'Bee, I got it. I'll see you in a few, ya?" there was wary acceptance in her voice.
"Ya."
"Bye 'Bee." she said, almost a bit sadly.
"Good bye Sam," he quickly severed the call, the guilt choking his voice processors. His Sam was hurt. His Sam was hurt, and he hadn't been there to help her. His Sam was hurt; he failed.
Bumblebee felt his CPU's begin to crash, but savagely fought it off. He was not going to crash now – he could crash after he'd taught those thugs who dared harm his Sam. At the moment, Bumblebee didn't care about Prime's orders to not harm the humans and let himself entertain the thought of punishing those stupid fragging, son of Unicron fraggers who dared hurt his Sam!
Bumblebee felt the concern of the other Autobots, wondering what was going on, though many of them understood the gist of it – Sam had been hurt. He sent out a recording of the entire conversation, which only lasted about two minutes, before turning inwards to 'look' at his mate. Here, within the safety of his own mind and spark, with only his lover to watch, he began to cry, his keening wails unheard by all but his lover, who tenderly wrapped his arms around him.
He had failed his Sam.
He had failed.
x-(-X-X-)-x
Sam groaned tiredly as she limped out of the small clinic, holding onto the silver crutches that helped keep her steady. It had taken the staff at the clinic over three hours to get all of the glass out of her body before having to stitch up the gashes on her arms, back, and legs, then another hour and a half waiting for the doctor that they had on call to come into the clinic to get her leg set and placed in a cast. She had spent that time texting Bumblebee, keeping him up-to-date.
While he hadn't been very happy that she wasn't able to call him – there was a mother with her sleeping children in the waiting room and she didn't want to wake them up – he was glad that she kept in touch. They easily chatted back and forth; he told her about the new 'bots that had arrived, she told him about how many guys she beat down ego wise and how she had thrashed her best friend, Miles, in video games the other day. When the doctor had finally come, she had taken one look at the tired mother and immediately had him helping her, much to the mothers' surprise and gratefulness. The doctor had just shrugged, told her not to die, then escorted the tired mother into the back and fixed her up. So that took another hour or so, before, finally, it was her turn.
It took him ten minutes to examine the leg, four seconds to set it in place – which fucking hurt – then another long wait for the cast to dry. Finally, after just over seven hours in the clinic, she was free to go, though she was told that she had to come back if something felt off.
Taking a deep breath of fresh, clean air, the teenager smiled to herself as she pulled out her cell phone, frowning when she saw that it had died.
"Damn it," she cursed, hobbling over to the nearby wooden bench to dig in her emergency pack for her spare. Placing her true phone – as she liked to call it – back in her pocket, she swung it back over her shoulder, wincing when it placed pressure on her bruises, but easily ignored it in favor of calling her 'Bee. Setting the mobile into her pocket, the bluetooth sitting in her ear innocently, the teen began to make her way home.
"Sam?"Bumblebee's voice was slightly drowsy, as if he had just woken from a recharge. Instantly, the teen felt guilty.
"Ah, sorry 'Bee, did I wake you?" she asked, a small layer of guilt in her voice. She heard Bumblebee give a small laugh as he replied, "I was only in a light recharge, Sam. I believe you call it...dozing, yes?"
Sam grinned. "Yep. Got it in one 'Bee."
"See, I told you I would be getting your Earthly language down. It only took me half a stellar cycle to do so!" the yellow mech replied, sounding very much upbeat and cheerful that she couldn't help but start to smile.
"Uh huh. And yet you still say stellar cycle instead of year." she teased, causing him to laugh. "So have you guys landed yet?"
"Yes, we landed about half a Joor (half an hour) ago. Optimus, Ironhide, Will and Epps are taking the new 'bots to their berths, where they're going to recharge for about a solar cycle while Ratchet is going to check on Jazz and to see how he's doing then make a few repairs on Arcee and the Twins." The Autobot replied. "I, on the other servo, am getting ready to go back to Tranquility, where I will be picking you up and taking you to the base, where you can meet the newbies."
Sam grinned as she listened to her Autobot Guardian talk, carefully crossing a side walk as she did so. "Cool, when do you think you'll be here? And what about Mikaela, is she coming too?"
Static rumbled in her ear before, "I'll be there in about two Joors (two hours), even though its a three and a half Joor (three and a half hour) drive." She could practically feel the cheeky grin he sent her way as she rolled her eyes. "As for Mikaela, unfortunately, she doesn't have the same clearance that you do, and right now, we're pushing it by having you come onto base. If it hadn't been for the fact that it was your Great-Great-Grandfather who found Megatron, and the U.S. Army Rangers placing a vote of confidence in you, then you wouldn't even been – legally – allowed to talk too us. As it is, Will and Epps pulled a few strings, and got you the higher ups to allow you to come."
Sam groaned lightly, letting her head flop down on her chest, ignoring the twinge of pain from that action. "You would think that after saving the entire world, the government would be a bit more flexible," she muttered underneath her breath as she walked along the street to her house. As she carefully maneuvered her body so that she wouldn't step on the grass or set off the motion sensors she said, "Alright, just be careful 'Bee; just because your an alien robot doesn't mean that you can't get a ticket for speeding now."
Bumblebee chuckled at his Charger's words, but agreed."Don't worry Sam, I won't get caught."
Grinning Sam opened her mouth to say something, but was cut off by a large yawn. Rubbing her eyes with her good hand, the brunet said, "Damn I'm tired..."
"Go get some sleep Sam, I'll text you when I get to the house."
Yawing again, she nodded, before remember that Bumblebee couldn't see her. "Sure thing 'Bee. See you in a few." she said tiredly, smiling when the yellow mech let out a cheerful whirring sound before hanging up. Sighing, the teenager leaned heavily on her crutches, rubbing a hand across her face. She had two hours before 'Bee showed up, which meant two lovely hours of sleep. Sam grinned at the prospect; she hadn't been sleeping well since Mission City happened five months ago.
While she would never regret anything – save for the destruction of the AllSpark – that happened in the span of three days, the memories of the red optics of the Decepticons still haunted her waking and sleeping moments. She was lucky that she hadn't started to spout off weird shit yet like her great-great-grandfather did after just touching Megatron.
'Though it did take him two years before he went insane,' she mused tiredly, shifting her body around so she was no longer leaning on the crutches. Holding onto the crutches while leaning against the wall of her house, she reached into her original emergency pack and pulled out four zip ties. With precise movements, she secured the crutches to each other before hooking it under her good arm. Reaching up, she grabbed onto the wooden mesh and quickly hoisted herself up, wincing when she put pressure on her broken leg. Grimacing, the teen began to scale the wall, letting her broken leg dangle behind her as she climbed, only letting it rest on the wooden mesh when she was below her window, where she easily pried it open.
Grunting softly, she finished her climb, hoisting herself through the window and into her room, tossing her bags onto her bed, which was nearby, gently setting the crutches against the desk. With a sigh, she pulled herself through, putting her good leg through first, then the bad in and slipping off of the windowsill and onto the carpeted floor of her room.
With a tired sigh, the girl hobbled over to her bed and fell face first onto her bed, stiffing a tired groan of appreciation for the softness of the twin bed. Taking a look at the clock, which read five oh two, she quickly set her internal clock to go off at six forty-five before closing her eyes, easily slipping into the arms of Morpheus.
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The Homunculi Twins