You're beautiful. Never give up. Don't give in. Keep slugging on. Keep smiling. Life gets better, just don't give up on it. Don't surrender. Don't toss the flag in. We're in this together, and I won't abandon you if you don't give up either. That is for you, dear reader, because I know we all have those times when we second guess everything. Our choices, our lives, our decisions.
There are mistakes! I proof read like crazy, but I miss stuff all the time. Pretend they are little kisses for you. : )
True Moxy!
Doubt
Lennox groaned loudly before pinching the bridge of his nose. "I'm not going to counseling for Post-Traumatic Stress crap. I don't have it, so save the resources for someone who does."
Doctor Touchy-feely looked mildly interested as he adjusted his jotter on his lap. "Is that so?"
Oh for the love of- "Yes, I'm sure." He bite out, wishing he could leave. Shame he wasn't nine anymore…
The office was different this time. It wasn't the cramped stateroom that the carrier had, yet there was still the overwhelming flavor of 'military' covering everything. It was Lennox's office on Diego Garcia, and he didn't appreciate having it infiltrated by psychologists intent on trying to get him to talk about his feelings or cry over past experiences.
He wasn't knocking the guys that did need the mental and emotional help. He just felt that he was being dogged for no reason….aside from his alien coworkers.
A person needed to be a little touched working in the weird, except that wasn't a good enough reason to bug him- he felt. Look at the Witwicky kid and his car! They were currently having a heart to heart out on the beach. The major snorted as he turned his eyes away from the window. He'd bet money on Sam being able to throw a stick, and Bumblebee tearing out after it like an over-eager, metal, Labrador.
"So why do your superiors feel you need me here?"
Say what? "I don't know, you tell me." He snapped. His superiors felt he needed to speak to a psychiatrist?
What the hell?
"You're angry, why?"
Lennox tossed his hands up. He was fed up with these sessions and he was through being polite about it. "Because you're asking me dumb questions, wasting my time, and are sitting in my comfortable desk chair."
The older man sighed loudly before checking the time on his watch. Shuffling some of his notes around, he began to write something down on an orange leaflet. With a sharp click of his pen, he stood to his feet. "Major Lennox, our time is up for this session-"
"Praise the lord." Lennox grunted nastily.
"-and we'll pick-up where we left off next week." The psychiatrist finished blandly, stuffing his papers into his briefcase.
"Oh, for the love of- I'm fine! There's nothing wrong with me! I sleep fine, I eat, I haven't cried since I was nineteen! I don't hate my parents, I love my wife and daughter, and I don't really see the need for us to get together to unravel 'my mysteries' because I don't have any!" The major snapped. He had things to do. He was a busy, busy man and needed all the time alone he could get to put a dent in his backed up paper work.
"I'm sorry, Major, I really am. Orders are orders and until I give the all clear or they do, we will be seeing each other next week."
Lennox curled his hands into fists as he glowered at the man behind his desk. "There's a very good chance I won't be here next week." He mentioned lightly in a last ditch effort to get out of having to have another verbal cuddle with Doctor Touchy-feely.
"Oh, not to worry." The doctor said in a mild voice as he removed his glasses. "I'll find you." And with that, he strode from the room, shutting the door behind him, leaving a gaping major in his wake.
"The army has better things to do then waste resources shipping your butt everywhere just to pester me!" Lennox yelled childishly at the closed door, making a mental note to be gone from this island as soon as possible. He slapped a hand to his face and rubbed vigorously to try and chase away the exhaustion that had been pursuing him since yesterday's phone call from Washington. He was tired, and this last hour had been no picnic for him.
Damn Doctor Touchy-feely.
Damn that Secretary of State, Gates.
How the kid was going to deal with the top the big dogs, Lennox could only speculate with Epps and the others.
Poor Sam.
Where that boy managed to pull his strength from, Lennox could only guess, because kids these days did not take on the sort of challenges that Witwicky brat did. Trained soldiers, yes…sometimes… but teenagers pulled fresh from a classroom?
Lennox would feel a hundred percent secure betting money on Sam never having even been drunk, and yet he was blazing all over the planet looking for a fable- a ghost of a memory that might lead to a key that there was no definitive proof of actually existing, just to save friend and by default, the planet.
While being hunted, with nothing but a handful of civilians, and the loyalty of car to help him.
It was beyond impressive.
When Sam met the Autobots, he was just some geek in high school…when Lennox was that age, he was pretty sure he spent his days playing football and picking on kids just like Sam because he had touch of douchebag syndrome thanks, in part, to poor choices.
Then again, Sam was fundamentally a better, less jaded man than Lennox. It took military drill sergeants literally beating the ever-living crap out of him until he was worn down, to be able to rebuild him mentally into the man he was today.
He had been a punk at Sam's age.
It took growing up for him to become that guy that would purposely crash and slide a motorcycle underneath a mountain of a foe.
Sam was a natural at it.
Lennox gazed contemplatively out the window to see the boy way down the beach sitting on a piece of driftwood, probably lost in thought about what Optimus, Ironhide, and Lennox had told him yesterday. He hadn't said anything to anyone at the time, just listened, frowned, and quietly excused himself to be alone.
Mikaela had about scalped him after Sam had slipped out; she was so livid at the entire situation.
"Why didn't you say 'fuck no'?" She barked at him, eyes blazing as she zeroed in on a target that could actually feel her wrath. "He shouldn't have to fucking save everyone every fucking time!"
"There's nothing set in stone, Mikaela, Sam doesn't have to agree to anything." He had reasoned as calmly as he could, holding his ground as she thrust herself into his face in her rage. It wasn't like he was thrilled with the whole idea either.
She snorted rudely as she flung her arms out to her sides, as if holding the problem on her shoulders to demonstrate how real of an issue it was. "And do you think he'd actually say no? That he'd turn his back on his friends?"
"Mikaela listen-" He started, only for her to interrupt before he could even really begin. She was like his wife in that respect…
"He won't say no! He will sacrifice his happiness! He'll give, and give, and give until he can't do it anymore and then what?" She exploded, her overly bright eyes flashing with anger and desperation; trying to make those around her understand the gravity of what she was saying. "He'll be a broken man! He already was! He'll kill himself for those he cares about! This just shouldn't be about him doing it alone!"
"He won't do it alone!" Lennox ground out, clenching his hands into fists as he matched glares with the shorter girl. "Mikaela, he won't do this alone if he chooses to go along with it at all! The President can't make Sam do anything against his will!"
She grabbed at her head in a moment of madness that had their audience watching in sick fascination as Mikaela clung to her sanity. "He won't say no! He's never said no and stuck with it! He barreled head first into finding those glasses, saving Bumblebee, fighting the feds, saving us and Optimus, the cube, Megatron, Decepticons, death rays- never once thinking of how this will affect, hurt, or maim him because he was always last on his list- NEED I GO ON!"
"He'll be protected, Mikaela, just calm down." Epps spoke up for the first time, slowly approaching her like he would a cornered wild animal. "Nobody will hurt-"
"Him physically?" She whirled on the Chief Master Sergeant, finishing his attempt at comfort with a false laugh. "I wasn't speaking in terms of bodily harm." She spat acidly.
Lennox felt his mouth snap shut as his shoulder's tensed. He was aware Sam was…not troubled per say…but shook up still. How far could he be pushed before he 'broke' as Mikaela so forcefully put it?
The major had backed down, realizing her argument carried a lot more weight than just a protective driven defense for her boyfriend.
Sam was, as Ratchet had uttered softly to Optimus after Mikaela had finally been calmed down by freaking Ironhide (of all people and Autobots present) and coaxed into taking an aspirin before she and an anxious Bumblebee set out to go find Sam, all heart. His desire to help those he cared about drove Sam to staying beside a crippled 'Bee in a war zone. It drove him to the top of that building with no probable escape. His heart made him dash over hundreds of yards of open ground at the mercy of every tracer, blaster, and Decepticon aware of the price on his head, to save Optimus…
Sam was the stereotypical heroic martyr. He'd die trying to save what was most precious to him, be it flesh and blood, or energon and metal. It was his ultimate source of strength.
Sam was tough in a way Lennox envied. He'd step into battle without a weapon and only a sliver of hope, and never look back.
What made Sam strong, also made him weak…and Lennox would be flat out lying if he wasn't bothered by the thought of the kid's downfall.
He needed a drink…
Shame there wasn't an ounce of booze within a thousand mile radius of his desk.
Standing slowly to his feet, he moved around his desk and kicked the chair back before plopping roughly into his seat. He had a mountain of reports, documents, orders, and supply lists that needed his attention, but now that he had the peace and quiet to accomplish them, he just stared blankly at the piles hopping they would just do themselves. Lennox shook his head; it could wait for a few minutes as he pressed the 'on' button and booted up his computer.
His wife and daughter should be just getting up for breakfast right about now.
"Maybe I should become baker." Sam broke the silence as he aimlessly doodled little images into the damp sand at his feet with a stick Bumblebee had found.
The Camaro parked alongside him clicked, not understanding where his human was going with that conversation starter.
"Bakers have predictable outcomes. They wake up early, bake delicious breads and pastries, sell their goods, and end the day making more delicious breads and pastries. After repeating this trend for several years, they become fat and jolly, before kicking it peacefully, as the people they leave behind squabble and fight over recipe rights." He rambled, sketching a rough image of 'Bee's face. "I wouldn't have to worry about more than burning stuff or worrying about if the yeast rose properly overnight."
"Why would you choose such a mediocre existence?" Steven Hawking's robotic voice chirped and Sam felt a tired grin tug at his lips.
"It would be easier."
"You wouldn't be you." Some English woman countered.
Sam looked up to watch a distant fighter jet zip over their heads. "Maybe it's who I'd like to eventually be."
'Bee was silent for a moment, but Sam had the feeling his 'car' was analyzing everything Google had to offer on 'bakers' before the chrome yellow Autobot snipped in a girlish voice, "You don't bake."
"I can learn."
"Highly unlikely." Dr. House growled as the Camaro pulled forward, bumping his leg gently with a fender, prompting Sam to drop his head onto his arms with a laugh.
'Bee was confused and worried to such an extent that Sam could almost feel it radiating of the overly affectionate Autobot. They had been best friends for the last couple years, so it was no surprise that his 'car' would know at once when something was off with him. 'Bee was uncanny with his six 'Sam' sense as Mikaela dubbed it. The Autobot always knew when Sam was in trouble, upset, happy, excited, sad…
He always knew. Yet, being a foreign being unaccustomed to people as a species, there was definitely a learning curve for the both of them. Trying to comfort each other was hard. 'Bee was a creature of the here and now. He rarely worried about the future because he lived in the present, and cared nothing for the past aside from learning from it. Sam, like all human beings, fixated on both tomorrow and yesterday with very little consideration for today. What challenges lay around the bend? Why didn't he choose that path aside from this path, and how will it affect him in the long run?
The yellow Autobot focused on what was before him at this moment- currently a sulking Sam. He did not bother dwelling on Egypt, or what the future held back in the States.
So why couldn't he follow his best friend's example? Live today and worry about tomorrow when he crossed that bridge. Sam dropped a hand down onto 'Bee's hood and patted it a few times. His yellow friend was one of the strongest individuals he knew…all the Autobots were. Optimus never hesitated taking on multiple issues at once, be it Decepticons, or political discussions, or the fate of his people. He held his head high, and accepted challenges for what they were. He was Superman- the eternal good guy that always managed to pull through for those counting on him. Ironhide flat out didn't give a shit, and was confident enough to be able to barge into any situation without preamble if need be. Ratchet, like all medics in the military, never abandoned anyone that could be saved. Loyal to a fault, uncaring about what could happen to him with his back turned on cannon fire and attention focused firmly in helping his friends and allies. And Bumblebee, despite his obvious lack of age in comparison to the others was just as daring, loyal, and stubborn with the added trait of being caring. He didn't bend. He didn't give up unless it was to save someone he cared about, because he had that much courage. Discovering and learning the unknown was his job as a scout and he would fight until rendered offline to keep what was most important safe. He took damage to save Sam on multiple occasions, sacrificing himself for a human he only just met because Sam had attempted to help.
'Bee was everything good and strong and pure. He was just as fearless as his larger blue leader Optimus Prime, as compassionate as Ratchet, and as stubborn as Ironhide.
None of the Autobots would freak out at having to face the President and the world, Sam thought bitterly as he felt the energy that danced almost imperceptibly across 'Bee shiny hood- a mark of him being something other than a really slick looking vehicle. Sam smiled as a small charged tingled through his fingers as 'Bee 'hugged' him. What would he do without his best friend?
He froze as that last thought fully materialized in his mind.
Was that it?
Was it because of how fearless they were in comparison to Sam himself? How they could do the impossible, fight the upward struggle without faltering or losing faith in their ultimate goal?
Was it because he was more terrified of being thrust upon a world stage where one screw-up could ruin things for his friends, then staring at the frightening, twistedly evil face of Megatron? Or was it because he had less faith in himself to be able to accomplish anything without a transformable safety net that just happened to become really cool looking cars?
He feared he knew the truth.
The rhythmic sloshing of the waves onto the sandy white beach couldn't help lull him into any form of comfort. The warm ocean breezy didn't relieve him of his burden and the calming tropical scene couldn't relax him as one thought in particular spiraled out of control in his mind.
"I'm scared, 'Bee." He finally uttered softly to his quiet companion. "I'm scared."
'Bee made a digital whining sound that sounded inquisitive before the Camaro burst apart at the seams, the humanoid robot evolving from the spinning parts within. It was a sight Sam could never quite get enough of seeing. It didn't defy logic exactly, but it certainly boggled the mind that a near twenty foot tall creature could hide as common car.
The transformed Autobot shook sand out of his cleats before plopping down next to Sam's perch with a teeth rattling shake, the cushy sand doing nothing to absorb the 'bot's immense weight. 'Bee wasn't the tallest, or the biggest of the Autobots currently lurking on Diego Garcia, but he certainly wasn't less impressive because of it.
A massive, wired hand reached out and plucked a log of driftwood from the surf the size of Sam's leg and began dragging it through the saltwater soaked sand just like his human friend had been doing. Sam watched in fascination as 'Bee re-examined the tip of the log before reaching up and peeling off parts of the grayish wood till a fairly decent point remained. Apparently satisfied, the seventeen foot tall Autobot resumed drawing alongside his human counterpart like a giant toddler imitating his father.
Sam blinked, before dropping his eyes to what his 'car' was creating. Poorly rendered, fat little Ironhide faces were frowning up at them and Sam snorted.
"What are you afraid of?" 'Bee asked his question via two different voice clips as he continued to make grumpy Ironhides all around his cleated feet. Sam jerked; he hadn't been expecting Bumblebee to say anything to his confession.
He should have known better. His alien friend would never have let the topic of 'fear' drop.
'Bee leaned forward a little and smoothed a portion of beach out, erasing earlier versions of his Ironhide collection. "A soldier only fears failure, so what are you afraid of failing at?" a grouchy sounding blurb from a war movie Sam had seen a long time ago continued on in his silence.
"I'm not a soldier." Was his immediate response. He wasn't. He never trained to be anything more than a rather okay computer tech.
"You fight for a cause greater than yourself."
Sam shook his head. "That doesn't make me a soldier."
"Wrong." This time the voice was more concentrated, rather than out-sourced, and Sam snapped his head up once he realized it wasn't just an audio bite. 'Bee's voice processor was still being worked on by Ratchet, but for the most part, the yellow scout 'bot was able to speak just fine. He just chose not too normally. "Anyone willing to fight, and continue fighting for what they believe in is a warrior, Sam."
"I sure don't feel like that. " He sighed. If anything, he felt like crap.
"You stepped into battle alongside 'soldiers' because you felt you had too. Originally you were in the wrong place at the wrong time. We asked for your assistance, and you gave it. Had you left it at that, than yes, you would be just as you claim. You were no longer just a 'good samaritan' when you dove back into the fray to save, not only us, but this planet." 'Bee's deep voice rumbled around him, and Sam momentarily felt disoriented at having such a mature sounding voice being emitted from his friend that was doodling goofy South Park characters dancing with a slew of glowering Ironhides and bananas. "A soldier, aside from what the name originally referred too, has evolved into more than just a single individual in a line of many."
Sam didn't know what to say to that, but 'Bee obviously didn't feel the need to fill the silence.
The sun was slowly sinking toward the horizon and when the first glitter of starlight caught his attention, and Sam moved to get up. Bumblebee had been busily illustrating all sorts of things all over the beach for the better part of the last two hours, and Sam was amused to see that, aside from many cartoon characters and quite a few people back at the barracks, Ironhide still consumed much of the yellow Autobot's artistic musings,
"What's with all the Ironhides?" He asked as he stepped over and around a small pack of the unhappy weapons specialist littering the ground.
"Easy target." The Camaro's speakers promptly answered as it reverted to its 'car' shape. "Time to go?"
Sam nodded sluggishly. "Yeah, Mikaela and my parents are probably starting to worry."
As the flashy sport's car pulled up the beach onto the crushed coral road that ran alongside the ocean, Sam let himself sink into the side door.
He wished he had more time to figure himself out before agreeing to anything, but life recently hadn't been exactly easy. Why should that change?
'Bee dropped him off at the barracks that he and the other civilians from Egypt had been placed in upon arriving at Diego Garcia two days ago. Sam had rather expected to be home by now.
He wanted to go home. He rather missed his childhood room…he missed normal.
Rubbing 'Bee's door in thanks, Sam trudged tiredly down the hallway toward his designated room, wondering briefly if he should check in with his parents. He saw them earlier, but they seemed to have finally realized that he needed space…it only took them his entire life plus five Autobots to figure that common bit of courtesy.
Mikaela was camped out on his bed when he pushed his door open and Sam tossed her small, but genuine smile. He wondered when she would turn up.
She tried smiling back, but it didn't quite meet her tired bluish-gray eyes. In fact, he scrutinized her face as he started to toe at his shoes, they looked a little pink. "Have you been crying?" Sam blurted, quickly kicking his sandy shoes and socks off before hopping up on his shoddy little bed and crowding around her. "Why have you been crying?" He demanded. Mikaela was tough as nails and almost never cried. If pushed to admit it, Sam was almost certain he's cried more than she had since they had started dating.
He had issues watching movies with dogs that died at the end, he couldn't help that.
She looked slightly frightened, and that really concerned him. Mikaela didn't do frightened either. "I- I haven't really been crying," She tried, but Sam just shook his head as he snaked a slightly sore arm around her waist and pulled her closer. She couldn't sway him that easily.
"Tell me." Was all he said, burying his fingers in her thick dark hair and pulling her head to his non-damaged shoulder.
"I'm fine, Sam." She softly snuggled into his neck, and relaxed gently into him, hyper conscious of his still bruised body. "Really, I am."
"What's with the pink eyes and tragic expression then?" He called her on it, albeit groggily as he adjusted them lower on the bed. He must have been more tired than he originally thought. Plus holding her felt so good to him as she reveled in contact. The more the better with Mikaela, and he wasn't complaining.
Girls like her didn't date guys like him.
She said nothing, just lifted one of her legs and draped it over his.
"Mikaela." He said her name coaxingly, and she bit her lip. Pressing her face into the crook of his shoulder and neck, and squeezed her eyes shut.
"Mikaela?" He sounded a little alarmed, and she tried not to giggle, less he hear how upset she really was. He didn't need her problems to deal with.
"I'm okay." She breathed. "I'm alright. Just a little emotional."
Sam just pulled her closer till she was practically glued all along his side. "About today?" She still wasn't saying anything and Sam was a little lost on what to do about it. Girls, in particular Mikaela, normally didn't need prompting to talk. Especially about things like feelings.
So he held her tight and stared tiredly up at the ceiling.
He didn't remember falling asleep with his girl at his side. He had no idea when she started to cry quietly while he dozed on unaware.
She had been as strong as she could possibly be for as long as he'd been awake. He needed her to be strong because Sam was a sweetheart. He always looked so upset when she cried because he wasn't exactly sure on how to fix the problem for her. He was a man of action, and if no action would lead to a resolution to make her happy, he would feel like he failed her and that would just upset him more.
This time would be no different.
Nothing had been agreed to. No contracts signed, no speeches give, no press conferences held, but she had a sinking feeling as to where this was going. The media would tear him apart before he even realized it. The public would go after his family, his friends…
He'd be ostracized as the guy who hung out with Aliens. Foreign countries would target him once they realized he had any influence with the Autobots, believing him a threat and untrustworthy, or worse.
And the Decepticons would not pass a chance up to pick him off just to get back at Optimus. Megatron had basically promised it when he had Sam pinned in that dirty factory.
He would suffer.
And that made her cry more.
She couldn't protect him from what was coming- the world knew who he was. His face was still plastered up around the sphere via internet and news outlets. People were still terrified and that was why the President had approached the military branch in contact with the Autobots- he wanted Sam.
Her sweet Sam.
The guy who bought her flowers for no reason. Who wined and dined her like a princess. Who didn't give two shits her dad was a criminal and who thought her mechanical knowledge made her even 'hotter'. He wasn't threatened by her being able to tune up cars while he could barely change a tire. He encouraged her; pushed her to challenge herself. He suggested she take up painting cars. He wanted her to go to college so she could 'flaunt her brains with all that brawn'. He thought it was sexy that she played in the dirt and could handle wrenches like batons. He was her biggest fan.
And he was about to be dissected by every busy body the planet had to throw at him.
The President had his own plans but regardless of his interference, Sam would never truly disappear from the public eye, not after this. He would always be at humanity's mercy when it came to anonymity. He would never be truly left alone to pursue his own life. He would forever be linked to the team that comprised the Autobot's.
History would remember his name, but would it accurately recall all he did for the Earth and her people? Or would he be demonized as an aid to fancy new weaponry? The Benedict Arnold in the man verse alien conflict? The guy that discovered definitive alien life, only to help destroy the planet?
She could see it in Optimus' face when he broke the news to Sam. He knew what was coming and felt responsible for most of it. Optimus would never abandon Sam, and neither would any of the other Autobots, but there were something's they wouldn't be able to help protect Sam from.
She wasn't so sure if Sam had known what was coming, that it would have deterred him from doing what was right.
Mikaela moved her head so her tears wouldn't drip onto him as he continued to snore lightly- him waking up to her weeping would freak him out.
Dragging her fingers to her face, she whipped furiously at her cheeks, dispelling the salty wetness from under he tired, puffy eyes. He needed her to be strong.
He moved under her, and she immediately froze. He unconsciously pulled her tighter to his side before dropping his head down atop hers and slipped deeper into sleep. Here was a guy that loved her even when asleep!
How flipping unfair was that she finally found her prince, only to nearly lose him to aliens, and maybe mass hordes of angry people?
How messed up was that?
Did nature forbid perfect men and happiness mingling? Was this some sort of cosmic joke?
It made her angry. Fate was such a cruel fucker.
She wanted to scream. She wanted to break something. She wanted to rip apart the injustice of her situation. She wanted to stop thinking.
Nothing had even happened yet and she was ready to crack.
Sucking in a deep breath, Mikaela held it as she slowly counted down from ten. The psychiatrist had informed her it might help to take a moment to get ahold of herself so as to not work her emotions into a murky mess.
Too late for that.
She wanted to blame her imbalance on Egypt. That she was just over reacting because of what happened there, but she knew better.
She knew just how fragile the life she clung so violently too was. He 'died' once, and had taken her heart with him.
In some respects, she never reclaimed parts of it when he had opened his eyes. Relief was instant.
That fear would forever remain.
Mikaela sniffled silently. She wanted to go home, and take him with her.
She did not want him going to Washington. She did not want him to have to fix this mess. She did not want to share him.
But he would go. He would step forward and do what he could, because he was a man of action. He would fix the problems he could, however the hell long it took. He would protect her, his family and the Autobots as best he could because he was strong, resilient. He didn't quit just because things got rough.
He would be Optimus' human representative and he would do it willingly and whole heartedly, because that was who he was. He was strong. He would strive to persevere for his friends.
He would give until he broke.
And that made her cry.
A/N- I listened to Angles and Airwaves- Surrender while finishing the last bit of this chapter. And OMG Ironhide is soo easy! I love him. FU Transformers 3 for killing him! He was too badass to die so quickly! *cries*