Author's Notes: Once again I would love to thank everyone for their wonderful support and reviews. Thank you also to everyone who fav'd/alerted me and/or this story. Thank you people. You are wonderful and I love you guys. I also apologize for any spelling or grammatical errors.

Aporia

By Lindsay Smith

Chapter Four: Once We Reach the Stars

"There are many things that we would throw away if we were not afraid that others might pick them up." ~ Oscar Wilde

He woke up feeling fresh and alive. And eager.

The world returned to him in the form of a dim room. A dirty dim room where screens flickered with data that scrolled down in a seemingly never ending cascade. The space was full of very strange things that reminded him of his precious puzzle boxes. Sam made a whirling noise in amazement and stood. He was atop a table, laden with the strange objects. A small space there had been cleared for him to recharge on. Sam approached one of the objects and looked it over. Was it a puzzle box? It was like no other puzzle box he had ever seen. Maybe it was one designed for older Mechs. Feeling a bubble of excitement, he began to try and solve the strange puzzle.

Lost in his own little world, Sam did not hear the door to the room open and was only alerted to anyone's presence when he heard a yelp of alarm and the sound of rushing feet. Sam looked over his shoulder just in time to see a strange Mech rush up to him and lift him up and away from his toy. He whined in protest as he was pulled away.

"No, no, no," said the Mech, chuckling in discomfiture. "That's not a toy. Definitely not a toy."

"Puzzle!" Sam replied, pointing to it.

"No, little one, that is definitely NOT a puzzle," the Mech told him, setting Sam down atop of a table clear across the room. "Ratchet would dismember me if he saw you playing with that."

Sam perked up. "Ratchet?"

"Ratchet, yes. He'll be back soon. He's just making a few calls is all," the new Mech assured him. But Sam didn't appear to be listening anymore. He was staring at the Mech's head…he looked weird. He didn't have a face really, just optics. And there were things on the sides of his head and blinked as he spoke. "He told me to make sure you stayed out of trouble while he was gone."

"I don't get into trouble," Sam protested. "I don't like it."

"Well that's handy," he said. "Because I certainly don't either. Let me see if there's anything in here you can play with while I clean this place up a little better. You like puzzles?"

"Yes!" Sam watched as the strange Mech tore through the room, lifting up large objects to look underneath and continued to mutter to himself. He bent low to look under a table and made an 'Ah-ha!' noise. Reaching out and grabbing something from within the mess inside, he rose up…forgetting the top of the table was still overhead.

A string of words Sam had never heard before fluttered from the Mech's vocalizer at a rate that made it hard to truly hear them. Despite himself, Sam laughed. But when the Mech stood and looked over at him, Sam abruptly quieted down.

"Thought that was funny, did you?" he asked, no where near as amused as Sam was. "Huh?"

"No…" Sam replied meekly, shrinking away. Walking up to him, the Mech held out his hand to reveal a puzzle box. A very old and dirty puzzle box.

"Good," he told him. "Because that would be very rude."

"Puzzle!" Sam reached out and grabbed the toy, fervently looking it over and moving the parts around the cube, trying to solve the abstract algorithms that made the puzzles so interesting.

Above him, the Mech laughed. "I guess you really do like puzzles. Heh, I liked them when I was a new Spark too. But that was a long time ago."

Sam looked up. "You're really really old?"

The Mech was still for a moment, shoulders hunched ever so slightly. "I'm not that old…"

Ratchet was exhausted. He had been seated at his consol for joors and was in need of some good high grade and some recharge time. But he fought back his body's demands and continued on looking over the data. Despite the misconception that both Quickfire and Servo were under, D-17's symptoms were not at all uncommon. In fact, one could say they were as common place now as a dented fender.

But only a few select individuals were aware of it. Ratchet was one of the included.

He remembered the year, month, day, hour, minute, and very second that the new Allspark came into being. It was a horrible day, one that still ate away at him. A life so small and precious withered away in agony into something that should have been wonderful. In the grand scheme of things, the event was considered a miracle for the Cybertronian race…but Ratchet was not one to believe in miracles. He was not one to concentrate solely on the larger image; the truth was hidden amongst the details. Sam had been a dear friend, comrade, son, and lover. His death left a shadow that hung over everyone until the time the Autobots left Earth.

Mikeala was never truly the same afterwards…as far as she was concerned, she had died with Sam that day. Ratchet had found himself hoping that the Human's 'heaven' existed if only so that once Mikeala passed, she and Sam could be together for eternity. Was it wrong to hold such hope in such nonsense? Ratchet knew there was no such joyous reunion awaiting them. Mikeala, as human do, eventually succumbed to time and passed away. She was 87, had never married, and had lived a full life. More so then many humans could boast. Her passing was not as hard on everyone as Sam's had been. Not that her death was not sad, they would miss her as they did the boy. But she had been granted her fair share of life, while's Sam had been so unfairly ripped away.

As Sam's body had cooled of his life's heat and the crystals overtook him, they left only the Allspark. A green cumbersome mess of hard, green crystal that was beautiful in its own way. And yet, it was also terribly hideous to those who knew its secret.

Ratchet remembered the first Sparkling ever birthed from it: a dainty green Mech that was called A-1, but was later named Riptide. He was a Lieutenant in the Cybertronian Armada now, serving directly under Optimus Prime. Optimus had taken a special liking to the Sparkling the moment he was sparked, as most Autobots did, and it was him who eventually came to adopt the child. He had been a star from the moment he was sparked. His life was something akin to the Human's celebrities. His life was tracked and recorded. He was a fine Mech, well rounded despite all the attention, and was as much an Autobot as any seasoned warrior. Ironhide too took a special liking to him as did Ratchet. Bumblebee did as well…at least at first.

The first signs of the 'glitch' appeared after Riptide's first upgrade. His recharges became disturbed and the young one had reported that he had seen images and lived through battles he had never been involved in, all while in recharge. The strange glitch had them all worried. It was after some probing that it was finally decided that the images Riptide was seeing…were memories. But not his own; they were Sam's. The battle of Mission City and his first encounter with Barricade…Riptide was seeing it all through Sam's eyes. He felt what Sam had felt; pain, love, fear…

Needless to say, everyone was baffled and more then a little alarmed.

The idea that Sam's consciousness had somehow survived his own death and had resided inside the new Allspark though had brought such hope to those who had known the boy. Especially Bumblebee.

But alas…it was not Sam.

Bumblebee was crushed by the discovery, but held onto the hope that perhaps Sam would return in some way to him. If his memories could survive and be passed on…so could his soul. When another Sparkling came to Ratchet displaying similar symptoms to what Riptide had experienced, Bumblebee became all the more excited…only to be crushed once more. It was still not Sam…only residual memories of a pitifully short life…one the scout had held so dear and still did.

Case after case, none of the Sparklings brought to Ratchet ever turned out to be the real Sam; only new Sparks who possessed the memories of an individual who was long dead.

There came a time when the poor scout could not take the disappointment any more and he left the Armada to serve as the assistant engineer on a maintenance vessel, away from the war, the Sparklings, and the Allspark. Ratchet remembered the last Sparkling to come to him very well. The little femme was a darling little child as anyone would expect. But she had been cursed with the worse memory of them all. For whenever she slipped into recharged, she relived Sam's death over and over. The stress grated on her, making her very sick. She became weak and paranoid and would cling to her guardians in fright when approached by a Mech she did not know.

Despite it all, the problem was fixable by a data purge. It was a risky procedure, but they all had been successful. None of the previous ailing sparks suffered from the memories any more. They were gone. Lost to time…

It had been nearly five vorns since the last Sparkling appeared, showing any symptoms. But now there was D-17. An odd little charcoal grey Mech who did not like the taste of Energon and had green optics. But unlike the others, D-17 did not just display similar symptoms…he knew things. He seemed utterly convinced he knew them too. He did not appear to treat them as something strange, but he appeared to embrace them as his own. None of the others had done that. He knew Ratchet's earthen name…Bumblebee's too. He had even mentioned Mikeala. None of the previous cases ever came close to such things. Not only that, but he down right demanded to be called Sam.

"Sam…" It had been so long since he had said the boy's name; it felt stale on his lips.

As compelling as it all was, Ratchet knew he had to be careful as he proceeded. Regardless of how much the Sparkling knew, it could still be mere residual information passed from the Allspark to the shell. There was only one way to verify without a shred of doubt that it was Sam.

And for that he needed Bumblebee. However…

He needed solid proof to convince Bumblebee to even consider coming down. He needed evidence that Sam's consciousness, his soul, had survived death and was now incased in a small bundle of metal and wires. With green optics. It would not be easy.

Ratchet mused to himself. Green optics. Sam's eyes had mutated during his illness, turning them bright green. Like D-17.

What would prove that D-17 was Sam and not another odd case for the files…?

"Done!" Sam said cheerfully and placed the solved puzzle box down on the table top. Wheeljack had been engrossed in his own work, but looked over his shoulder to see, once more, a finished puzzle box. He found himself befuddled by the site. "That's the fifth one in the last two breems!"

Sam beamed with pride, a wide grin on his small face. "I like puzzles."

"Primus," said Wheeljack as he rose from his seat to inspect the child's work. The kid was certainly baffling. There was nothing normal about him it seemed. Despite all his characteristics some might label as flaws, he was exceptionally bright. "The academy's going to love you when you're old enough to go."

"Where's Ratchet?" Sam asked abruptly.

"He'll be back soon, don't worry," Wheeljack told him, trying to assure Sam. "He has some things to do."

"When will he get back?" Sam's voice had taken on a worried tone, as if the puzzle had distracted him from the fact that the medic was not around. It worried him. Wheeljack picked up on the sudden shift in tone and the subtle way the Sparklings posture changed from a state of happy confidence to worried and insecure. He reached out to pat the child on the head, to reassure him again that Ratchet would return due promptly, but he was surprised when Sam jerked away as if he had been bitten.

"Where is Ratchet?" Sam asked again, near hysterics. He looked around the room as if the neon yellow Mech were hiding and would pop out at any moment.

He didn't.

Poor Wheeljack was at an utter loss of what to do. If he reiterated his earlier answer, he had a strong suspicion that it would do no good, perhaps only make it worse. It was curious. Just a second ago, Sam was calm and happy until the distraction wore off…and he realized Ratchet was not there. Separation anxiety perhaps? It was not a common occurrence amongst Cybertronians, but it was not entirely unheard of. Some Sparklings were simply insecure and required some sort of pacifier to calm their anxiety. Most of the time it was a toy of some sort. With Sam, his pacifier was his puzzles. The only problem with that however, was that at one point the puzzle would be solved and would no longer pacify. He needed to find another, one that would remain a constant.

"Don't be scared," Wheeljack said as cheerfully as he could muster. "Ratchet wanted me to watch you until he got back. Is that OK?"

Sam's optics burned with emotion and he looked Wheeljack over. "You're unfamiliar though…"

Wheeljack had no ready response for that. Unfamiliar? What did that mean? "I am?"

Sam nodded meekly. "You feel different."

"Does that scare you?" Wheeljack asked.

Sam did not answer right away. He seemed confused by the question, or maybe he had never actually thought about it. "Kind of," he said eventually. "I like it better when someone feels familiar…"

"Like Ratchet?" Wheeljack silently send a message to Ratchet over the channels to hurry back as soon as he could as Sam seemed close to another tantrum. He received an affirmative reply, but no clarification.

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry if I scare you," Wheeljack said, trying to keep the conversation flowing. Perhaps if he got Sam to talk openly, it would delay the meltdown. "I scare a lot of people without meaning to. You can tell me if you feel uncomfortable, OK?"

Sam seemed bewildered by Wheeljack's proclamation. Obviously no one had taken any real time to talk to the little guy. Which was not all that surprising. Most Mechs talked at young ones instead of talking to them. He nodded slowly. "So, you're name is Sam, right?"

The Sparkling nodded and then pointed at the engineer. "Wheeljack."

"That's right. I'm Ratchet's friend."

"Friend?"

"Yep. I've known him for a long time. And if you think I'm old, Ratchet's older." Sam seemed to find that very amusing and to Wheeljack's relief, he smiled. "So, what about at the Foundry? Are they familiar to you?"

Curiously enough, Sam's expression fell and he looked…sad. "Everyone feels different there. Servo tries to be nice to me, but he's still different. He doesn't understand…"

Wheeljack pulled up a chair and sat down. "Does playing with your puzzles make you feel better?"

"Yeah," Sam answered, grabbing his feet and rocking back and forth. It was an odd gesture, Wheeljack thought. "They think I'm weird though…"

The engineer could not help but pity Sam. He was not weird. He was just a very lonely, very insecure young Spark. "You're not weird," he told Sam kindly. "There's nothing wrong with you."

Sam looked up at Wheeljack, his green optics telling the Mech he did not believe him. "They said I was weird."

"Who did?"

"Some of the others," Sam answered, hunching his shoulders and drawing himself up into a ball. "And D-14."

Wheeljack wanted to comfort the child, but he knew that should he try to touch him, Sam would most certainly jerk away. He was talking instead of wailing, so they were heading down the right path for the moment at least. "Who is that?"

"She's the one who hurt me." Sam held a hand up and rubbed his forehead, remembering the incident.

"Oh, well that wasn't very nice of her," Wheeljack said to him sympathetically. "Why did she do that?"

"She called me weird and said no one would want to adopt me because I'm not like everyone else."

The engineer nodded slowly. "I bet that made you mad, huh?"

"Yeah," Sam replied meekly, now having completely rolled himself up into a fetal position. "I told her no one would want her either because she's mean. And she threw a puzzle box at me."

Wheeljack did not say anything for a while, fighting the urge to reach out and touch the child, to comfort him. But he did not get the chance as Ratchet re-entered the room at that moment and the tightly wound tension of the room evaporated. Wheeljack noticed how very tired his old friend looked. Sam did not notice and was on his feet instantaneously, toddling over to the edge of the table. His little face positively radiated with joy.

"Ratchet!" he called, raising his arms to be picked up. "Where did you go?"

Ratchet paused for a moment as if considering something and then reached out and picked Sam up. The Sparkling curled himself up again and pressed himself into Ratchet's armor. Wheeljack did not bother muffling his amusement. Ratchet only sent him the barest of glares before striding across the room, Sparkling in tow. He found a table in the back and sat Sam down before finding a chair and bringing it over.

"I need to ask you some questions, Sam. Is that OK?"

"Yeah," said the child, far more relaxed and happy then only a few moments ago when he had been alone with Wheeljack. It was like flipping a coin. "What did you want to ask me?"

"A lot of things," Ratchet replied very calmly. "Starting off with these dreams you mentioned…"