Author's Note: Alright, so I am starting back up with this again. I recently went back and revised all of the previous chapters, which I recommend reading back through before reading this if you have not. Some stuff has changed, although nothing major. Anyway, I can't remember how I planned on ending this back when I started writing it 4 years ago, and lost many of my chapters for it, so this may be slightly slow going at first. I plan to do my best to keep this going, though. So, without further ado, I would like to reintroduce you guys to my favorite fic I have worked on, Fighting For Nothing.


Chapter 11

Sam was not responding to anything any of the medics did. Bumblebee felt helpless as days passed and his charge lay, appearing to be lifeless. Sunstreaker and Sideswipe often came to try and force him to get out of the med bay, but he never humored them for long. The other mechs did not bother like the twins did, knowing a lost cause when they saw one.

"Bee," Sides urged the slightly younger mech to look up from the human's form, nudging him. "Hey, mech. C'mon." He offered a small grin when the other finally looked at him, "Uh… Sunny and I thought maybe we could give you a gift. To help you… feel better. Well, Sunny did most of it; I've never been the artsy type." He shrugged his shoulder struts quickly as Bee tilted his head curiously, "Just come with me. The medics will look after Sam." He stepped back as Bumblebee came to a shaky stand; he vaguely wondered how long the mech had been left sitting on the ground by Sam's bed since they last fetched him.

-Are you coming?- Sunny asked impatiently over the bond, a rather well concealed flair of nerves coming through his side. Sides sent a wave of assurance to his twin as he helped steady Bee before guiding him out of the room.

-Yeah, we're headed there. You ready?-

He could almost feel the other roll his optics through their bond, -You know I am. Just hurry up.-

Bee looked at Sides as the mech laughed softly, giving him another curious look. Sides waved him off and dragged him through the base towards Sunny and Sides quarters. He was as anxious as his brother, honestly, but mostly because he feared how Bee might react. Sunny was just worried that Bee would not like it. And Sideswipe highly doubted he would not like it. However, he knew there was a possibility that this could send Bee into an even deeper depressive state. That was definitely the opposite of what they were attempting to do.

"Sideswipe, we've been standing outside of the door for a few minutes now," Bumblebee says softly, interrupting Sides' thoughts.

"Shhh. One more second." Sideswipe instructed, swatting at Bee lightly as Sunstreaker opened the doors slowly. Sideswipe watched as Bumblebee's antennas stuck up and his head shifted some; Bee was scanning, obviously. "It's all good. Go ahead." He pushed Bee lightly into the dark room.

Bee stepped in and the lights went on, his optics immediately locking on the far wall. He felt his spark stop suddenly, taking in the sight before him. It was bizarre, seeing his holoform and- and Sam, the boy's head resting in his lap and smiling up at him. He remembered this, remembered every moment with Sam, but this one stuck out to him most of all. It was so close to when everything went wrong, moments before it actually. Bumblebee did not notice when the twins slipped away, leaving him to stare in awe at the scene before him. He wanted to feel overjoyed at it, that Sunstreaker (for no one else had the mech's artistic abilities) would do this for him. But seeing the image of the other boy so bright, so lively… it hurt.

"Sam," He keened lowly, settling onto his knees before the painting and resting a hand against it. The aching in his chest was the same from a few years ago, from Egypt. The boy had actually been dead, then. No heartbeat. Dead in the sand. Yet, the boy had come back from that. Surely he would survive this. He just needed time. Yes, all he needed was a little bit of time. And Bumblebee has all of the time in the world to wait for him.

. . .

Optimus remembered how it once was on Cybertron, back when he was a youngling working in the halls of Iacon. He remembered spending all of his time sitting at his console, sorting through various video, audio, and text files until the work day ended. Such was the nature of his job. And at the end of each work period, he would head to the bar he always met Jazz at. They would share easy conversation over oil or the occasional can of high grade, then part ways. Jazz would head to his quarters, or sometimes pester this poor mech he was trying to court, and Optimus back to his.

Generally, Megatron was already there; or, rather, Megatronus. That was what his other half preferred to be called at the time, favoring it over his designation given to him in the mines. Optimus did not care, only wanted to please the other. "Jazz said hello, Megatronus." Optimus- Orion Pax, at the time- would say cheerily each time he found the other home. "You really should join us one day. I'm sure you would like it there."

"I would not fit in; the other mechs would simply spit at my presence, brother." Optimus knew at the time that whenever Megatronus tacked on the term of endearment, he wanted the subject dropped. So, generally he would start talking with the other about their movement- for Optimus was very much invested by the time Megatronus had come to stay in his quarters. That was much easier than trying to get the other to go out with him. The few times he had ventured into the public with Optimus before their falling out, Soundwave had generally been with them. It was mildly annoying because Optimus wanted to just be with Megatronus.

When he realized he was feeling jealousy, and why, it was a bit too late. Megatron had long since left him and was preparing to start a war. The mech he craved, who must have surely been his sparkmate was gone and hated him. All for something Optimus had no control over. He supposed that was likely why he could not find it in himself to kill the other, for he had many chances. Too many chances, really, to have ended the war before it took their home. But he was a selfish mech, and his people's demise was his fault. But, there was a small glimmer of hope, when they had finally relocated the Allspark. They could save their home.

Until Sam used it to kill Megatron. Optimus felt the very burn of the loss deep within his spark. There was a reason he had told Sam to put the cube in his chest, a selfish reason. For, should he die, he knew Megatron was too far gone to mourn him. But not Optimus. That was the issue with their people. They remembered every moment from the time shortly after they were sparked when their memory banks were turned on, and he would remember each happy and sad moment with Megatron. He would relive his death until the time of Optimus' own demise, and that was something he did not believe he could handle.

He had, though, even after losing his oldest friend that same day. It was very hard for a while, but Optimus did his best not to let his men know. A leader must be strong and have control over their emotions.

He wish he still had that same control.

An emergency signal had come in to the base. An Autobot hailing for back up from a Decepticon attack. He had volunteered to go himself, taking Ironhide, Bluestreak, and Jolt with him in case they needed any repairs. They sped to the destination, catching a few strain cons. They were nameless, at least to the Autobots; merely frontliners who, in the absence of a true leader, sought to cause trouble. Looked like they had gotten plenty in return. They were already heavily damaged when they caught them, Bluestreak and Ironhide going in pursuit of them as Jolt and Optimus headed to the signal.

He had not expected to find Ratchet there. The signal had been from an unidentified Autobot. Although, it could be the other there with him that sent the signal. It took Optimus' processor several moments to pull away from the sight of his longtime friend, looking for all intents and purpose decommissioned. His control was slipping from his grasp, optics focused on the energon pooling from a wound in Ratchet's chassis. Jolt immediately set to work, shoving the other mech there aside. The mech protested briefly, only then catching Optimus' attention.

"Drift." Optimus forced all of the emotions swirling through his processor and spark aside as he nodded to the mech. "I was not aware that you were on Earth. It seems you arrived just in time." His optics flicked back to Jolt as he worked to stabilize Ratchet.

Drift nodded, "I hope so, sir." His voice held a large amount of regret in it as he looked to Ratchet as well. The mech was in for one hell of a recovery. "I received word that the war was over. Seems the 'Cons did not."

Optimus nodded once more, unable to pull his optics from Ratchet now as Jolt worked. The young mech was determined, muttering to himself various things he must have learned while working under Ratchet. "Optimus, we're gonna need your trailer to transport him," Jolt said, not even looking up. They had thought ahead, thankfully, and brought it with them. It was just a matter of getting Ratchet on there and strapped into place once Jolt cleared him for transport.

"Will he make it?" Optimus doubted he would be able to keep himself under control if Ratchet did not. He needed reassurance that the other was going to survive this. He needed to know Ratchet would not die because he could not get there in time.

Jolt nodded, looking up at Optimus with a look of certainty that seemed beyond his years. "Yeah, if we can get him back and on an energon drip. The shot missed any vital parts. He'll need some replacements, definitely for his chassis, but he will live. You have my word, sir."

The sigh that left Optimus was ignored by the other two conscious mechs there, thankfully. "Thank you, Jolt."