Title: Sparks 10: Logic Bomb
Pairing BeexSam ProwlxJazz)
Rating: M
Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers. Hasbro does. All characters are 18 or older with the exception of Annabelle.
This has been beta'd but nobody's perfect. Comments and Critiques are welcomed and encouraged.
Thanks!

Ok this chapter has taken the longest, but I'm glad it's done. Much love to dragoona

for beta'ing this in such a short amount of time..(I owe you cookies!) As always thanks for reading.

I promise explanations.

So here it goes. This is the re-edited version of Sparks. Thanks to gracesolo for all of the wonderful beta work, hand holding and laughter. You're my hero hon!

1010101010

Enjoy!

10

Logic Bomb

1010101010

It was hot. Miles was bored and he was pretty sure he'd gotten sunburn. Still the suspected Decepticons had yet to move, or threaten him within an inch of his life. Looking at their matching hoods, he tapped a foot against the yellow car's grill.

Ok…

So maybe he'd overreacted. They probably weren't even alien. But then again, he'd been sitting there for an hour and no one had said anything. Bouncing an empty plastic bottle off the shining car, he figured the best thing to do would be to stay put. Mikaela was on her way and he was not about to suffer another desert tour bus, not if he could help it.

Sliding further up the hood, the blond attempted to work the cramp out of his leg. Sitting up, he winced moving from his former position. While basking in the uncomfortable agony, he realized just why he'd been sitting there in the first place. Kicking out his legs, Miles slammed his sneakers hard on the car before him.

The sudden pain wasn't nearly enough to distract him from the horrible realization. He'd seen it. The supposedly non-Decepticon's headlights had flashed. Examining the vehicle a little more thoroughly, he discovered that it was closer. He'd moved back and the car had come closer. It's formally effective cover had been blown.

"I got you." He insisted, a wry grin crossing his features. In reply however, both engines rumbled noisily reminding him, he was still in trouble.

His grin faded and reality hit him. They really were Decepticons. Clutching his bottles of Mountain Dew panic set in and Miles sobered pretty quickly.

Without help, he was screwed.

"Slag."

1010101010

Elbow deep in soapy water, Judy Witwicky was startled out of her meditation by a loud ring. Snatching the dishtowel, the short woman wrapped it about the plate and reached for the phone. Putting the receiver to her ear, she turned back to the task at hand. On the other end of the phone a strange, strange man began speaking. Officially, as was his duty, or so he claimed- the call was to inform her of the fact that, her son Samuel James Witwicky had gone missing.

Despite the fact the news struck her to the very core fiber of her being, the woman had more than enough sense to put the dish into the dish rack before she started to panic. Sidestepping Mojo, Judy firmly yet politely informed the caller that in no uncertain terms that if he didn't explain to her what the hell was going on; she was going to find him and kick his ass. She was, after all, a tax-paying citizen with caller ID.

Ignoring the positively blatant threat her, as of yet, unidentified caller went on to inform her no more than 48 hours had passed before her son Samuel James Witwicky had been returned to their care. He was receiving the best treatment at their facility and would continue to do so until his condition stabilized. He confirmed that they would keep her updated on his status and finished by wishing her a good day.

Beyond incensed, Judy Witwicky automatically dialed the number of her husband at work. After a moment the love of her life answered with a smile in his voice, soothing her flared temper just a bit. She didn't waste any time attempting to explain, but rather informed him of her plan for the afternoon.

"Ronald, honey. I'm going to check up on Sam.…dinner is in the stove…. Love you too."

Blowing him a kiss over the line, she hung up and grabbed for her purse. The keys were on the table as she passed on a final check over the house. With the lights off and all doors locked, she pulled the door shut behind her.

She was going to find her son and check on Sammy's condition for herself. And then she was going to give that man a piece of her mind. Being an idiot didn't give him the right to be so rude.

Civil servant, her ass.

1010101010

Cleared for active duty, for the time being; Elita One's first lieutenant cruised along the highway, charge in tow. While her directions seemed completely random, she was in fact surveying the surrounding area for Decepticons. Ever since Prowl's return and the escape of Miles Lancaster, the Hoover Dam facility had been on high alert. It had been a fight to get out in the first place, but Optimus was well suited to the task of mediator as his former position entailed.

She missed her planet, but had to admit she was becoming attached to the tiny ball of soil, air, and water. It was so full of life, and passion.

"God, I'm bored."

At Trent's outburst she laughed, bouncing on her shocks. He was such a child, even so almost a man by the standard of his people. Theirs was a race so complex and new, yet familiar. Slowing to a halt, the femme turned her scans inward, analyzing the human reclining in her interior.

"And what do you suppose I do about that, darlin'?"

Shifting in driver's seat, the blond tipped up his hat, blue eyes scrutinizing the sunny barren landscape.

"I don't know…You're supposed to be the one watching me, right?"

Ever since his acquaintance with the rest of her kind, the football player had assumed their reason for being on earth was to protect the individuals they deemed worthy. Though he was wrong, Chromia didn't have the heart to correct him. It made easier to coerce him into following her directions.

In truth, she'd come to the planet for another reason, but her carelessness had resulted in her having to take the form of his precious car Not that he'd ever noticed. She wasn't going to tell him, either. How could she? Trent would never react well to learning his first baby was at the bottom of the lake, rusting on its mangled little 22's.

He was happy enough talking to her and she was thrilled she could finally talk back. It was a serious step in the way of human-Cybertronian relations and he was ok with it, as long as he didn't have join the "little freak club." Despite his evident hostility, he was more a part of them than he realized. She rumbled again before agreeing with his sentiment.

A message from the Weapon's Specialist reached her processors and she smothered a bark of laughter.

"Let's head back, Hon…I got a feeling things are just about to get more interesting. "

He never got to ask as she whipped around in a neat U-turn and sped off back down the road, blowing past the speed limit signs at twice their imposed restrictions.

1010101010

Prior to Prowl's arrival to the Hoover Dam, Optimus Prime had been stricken by an unknown ailment. By the time he was up and functioning, two of his Autobots were down and Samuel had been returned. Cheered by the development, Prime was content to wait until they were well. To his surprise, the moment his third in command was on his feet, the black and white mech had sought him out.

Saluting to his superior, Prowl, security officer and second lieutenant of the Autobots began his report. He first spoke of Cybertron and it's less than desirable condition. He grimaced as he told of the wrecked cities and loss of stable domes.

"Nearly fifty-five percent of Iacon is destroyed. The shelters are being discovered faster than the refugees can be moved."

More and more of their planet was falling to the onslaught of Decepticon attacks. With the lack of a unified leader, Decepticon methods became more fierce and unpredictable. If things continued as they were, it would not be much longer before the planet fell to such occupation, something no Autobot wanted. This report however, was not without a silver lining.

"Ultra Magnus is gathering the able bodied mechs together, as I left they were cobbling together an assault team to reclaim the capital building. The remaining younglings have been moved from Cybertron under the care of Elita One. Among them is your descendant."

Optimus reeled as the news filtered through his audials, his spark pulsing. Despite the severity of the situation, he found himself almost relieved. Air cycled through his vents and he sagged against the wall. If the security officer was surprised, he didn't show it. Prowl, in his own right was glad to be again with his own kind.

"And the Decepticons?"

The Saleen bristled at the query, but quickly relayed the events of his arrival to Earth, as well as his discovery and subsequent capture by the Decepticons. He left out their torment and attempts to rip the vital information he carried from his processors.

Struggling against Blackout and his drone, he'd nearly failed, but there'd been one thing that kept him going. One thing he would go through all of it again just to see. Finishing his report, he bore Prime's congratulations, thanks and orders until he could speak again.

"Sir, if I may inquire. Where is your Lieutenant?"

The sudden look in Optimus' eyes, and the hand clapped to his shoulder were enough to stall his processors, but it was the words that came after that stilled his spark.

"I'm sorry, old friend."

1010101010

As if summoned by Miles's hysterical babbling and half-crazed prayers, a loud horn cut through the small town of Sparks. All eyes and ears turned to the sound, before passing it off as another stupid tourist. Looking up the teen was pleased to see the impressive truck form of 'Mr. T' rolling down the street.

For a moment Miles swore he saw someone sitting in the driver's seat, but chalked it up to heat stroke and waved exuberantly. The black mech was followed by a smaller vehicle that was just as alien and just as welcome, his passenger even more so. To be totally truthful, Miles still wasn't all that comfortable with the species, except for Ratchet. He reminded him of his family physician.

The Topkick pulled up beside him, its engine rumbling. Mikaela climbed from the tow truck that followed, a smile crossing her face as she spotted their wayward companion.

"Hey", he waved sheepishly the fear evident in his features.

Grinning even more she moved to his side, running her hand over the red assumed Decepticon he was currently sitting on.

"Hey yourself. We've been looking for you."

"I've been here."

"You shouldn't have left." She replied with feigned anger.

Rolling his eyes the teen flopped against the car burning his arms in the process.

"Well I did and I'm sorry."

Turning his patented puppy dog eyes on the former jock concubine, he tried to be appropriately remorseful. Her lips curled in response and she covered them with a hand.

"So can you help me…please?"

Indicating the pair of cars he cringed. His life was still very much in danger.

To his surprise and utter confusion, the hot girl part of their team broke down laughing. As she did, both trucks rumbled at a lower pitch which sounded suspiciously like they were laughing too.

Looking back and forth between them, Miles was at a loss.

"What's going on?"

"Congratulations" Ironhide replied, smoke rising from his stacks. "You've discovered something potentially more dangerous than Decepticons."

"I have? What?"

"Twins."

"Twins?" he repeated dumbly.

To his horror, the yellow vehicle popped its hood and disrupted his balance, throwing him into the dirt. Landing hard on his butt, Miles could only stare at its flickering lights.

"Sunstreaker" grumbled Ironhide chastising the Autobot.

The car only snapped his scuffed hood shut in reply. The human male glared and considered kicking it in the tire. Mikaela, on the other hand, cooed over the red car admiring the form.

"A pair of Lamborghinis. I didn't know you guys could have twins."

The preening vehicle rumbled appreciatively, "Rarely do."

"Thank Primus," the weapons specialist replied starting his engine. "Let's move out."

Giving the yet unidentified mech a soft pat, Mikaela retreated to her spot within the pickup's cab.

Pushing himself up from the dirt, Miles retrieved his effects and turned to follow her grumbling as he dusted off his pants. His progress was impeded by the open door of his former footrest.

"Get in"

"What? No-"

The Autobot…Sunstreaker rolled back catching his much smaller frame against the open door.

"Get. In."

Unable to protest, Miles stumbled into the passenger seat and reached for the seatbelt.

He never had the chance to utilize it before the door slammed shut and the Autobot began to move. Cutting his wheels, the Lamborghini whipped about, following the other Bots, cheerfully ignoring the screams of his passenger.

1010101010

Another pulse and Sam shook like a leaf. Gritting his teeth, he gave Bumblebee a wave. The bright yellow scout had yet to leave his side; he'd even risked bodily harm from Ratchet to stay with the boy. With those blue optics staring at him, Sam could almost ignore the fact his foot was falling asleep. In reply, the motionless, Autobot switched radio stations and turned the volume up.

Ratchet snorted, but resumed his work none the less.

"Yourscentonmyt-shirt
Itneverseemstofade
Anemptyseatnow
Nexttomebut
Memoriesfillthespace
Everymomentyou'renothere
RemindsmehowmuchIneedyou"

From his prone position on the cold table, Sam gave Bee what he hoped was a reassuring smile. It wasn't very easy due to the fact he was lying on his chest, with arms turned to expose his wrists. Shivering slightly, he desperately tried not to squirm. The tune rising from Bee wasn't one he knew, but it was nice. Better than the silence, it was definitely working in at distracting him from the paraphernalia invading his body.

"Cause it always feels like Sunday
When I drive you home
Maybe, we'll be fine by Monday
But tonight I'm alone
Baby, when I can't be with you
I still want you close
'Cause it always feels like Sunday
When you go"

Long black cables stretched from the alien medic across the table to the young man they were to be plugged into. There were four in total, one for each port in his body. One in his back, one for each wrist and the last had been implanted into his spine at the base of his neck. The first three went in quickly and easily, while the fourth had presented problems.

That had been the proverbial camel's straw….or something like that.

Hours ago when Sam had touched that port in his neck, he'd brought online something he had not been prepared to handle.

Thankfully, Ratchet had arrived quickly and sedated him moments after he'd started screaming. It had been by his own skill and the will of Primus that Sam hadn't fried his newly acquired systems. He'd fought the medic at first, but the mech was four times his size. Once the connection had been disrupted, however, he'd settled down.

Unwilling to let something of that nature occur again, the medic had simply informed Samuel that he'd be taking a closer look at the sockets fused into his flesh. The teen hadn't taken it very well, but he'd relented allowing the Autobot to check him over.

The table was cold, but Sam really didn't notice. His neck still throbbed painfully, but that was to be expected; he'd been implanted with alien technology not twenty-four hours ago. The whole concept of the hardware in his body was going to take some adjusting to, but what other choice did he have? It wasn't as if the medic could remove them; the Decepticons had made sure of that.

The worst part, or the really weird part, about it was the fact he could feel the energy moving through his system. His synaptic something or other. He really hadn't paid attention when Ratchet had explained it; he'd been focused on the tingling along his limbs.

They had done something to him, the Decepticons. He just couldn't remember what. The memory was still pretty fuzzy and he was just so tired. Along with the tingling, Sam could feel the wash of Ratchet's scans and the mech's influence on his synapses. His hand twitched suddenly earning an exasperated frown.

Well aware of the teen's expression, the CMO ignored it. He had other things to worry about. Samuel, for one, was a wreck. His body was weak with healing wounds and exhaustion. It was a miracle that he was still functioning, after everything that had been done to him. Something the chartreuse Autobot suspected was very much by the will of Primus. After all, he was now the biological embodiment of the All Spark.

There was no way to deny the potential energy that now resided in Sam's cellular makeup. The radiation of the All Spark was now as much a part of his biology as the ports embedded into his skin. With those wired into his systems, Ratchet could read him like a book. A direct connection was immensely superior to basic scans, but what the Bot found chilled him to the spark.

Megatron intended to tear lives from the Well of the Sparks; he was going to breathe life into new Decepticons using All Spark, whether Sam was willing or not. The loss of its familiar form had not been a deterrent. As long as they could use it to do as they wished, its form was meaningless. The metal sockets imbedded into Sam's flesh had solved the minor problem of his humanity. The Decepticons bore no regard for any life they ruined.

And ruin it they had. The young male was now a biological conduit to the power of the All Spark itself. Just underneath the tattooed skin, the concentrated power of Cybertron's relic lay dormant. The newly formatted network within Sam pervaded every cell of his being. Billions of nanites, Cybertronian in origion, flowed through him as naturally as his own biological system. It was a wonder they weren't attempting to convert him.

Samuel had, as far as the medic could tell, triggered the nanites by touching the socket in his throat. For all their effort, the Decepticons had not taken precautions to keep him safe. Ratchet was not surprised.

As a scientist, Starscream hadn't been known for taking care of his experiments. The wounds the teen had arrived with and their violent appearance indicated he'd been conscious when they'd been inflicted. His minor injuries were healing nicely, but it was the lack of internal trauma that worried Ratchet.

From Prowl's pre-treatment assessment, to Sam's current status, the severity of his injures had decreased. To be blunt the worst of the damage had healed rapidly. It had healed at a rate that was comparable to a mech in a recharge cycle. While encouraging, it only underscored the fact that Samuel would never again have a human normal life.

Restricting their connection, Ratchet compiled his observations and recommendations into an encrypted file and sent them to Optimus. Their commander deserved to know what had been done and what those changes meant for the boy.

As his guardians, they were just as responsible for what had happened to him. Snorting, the mech turned back to the shivering human on the table below him. He could reflect on his failures later.

Scanning the organic network one more time, the medic began the rudimentary processes required to establish a firewall. There was indeed something already in place, but it wouldn't do for the boy to be running Seeker protocols.

Sam gasped, as the barrier surged to life in his nerves, tingling all way down to his bare toes. As the shock died down, Bumblebee hummed and pressed a finger to Sam's face. The CMO made an irritated series of clicks, but the scout ignored him. His need to comfort was reassuring, but it forced Ratchet to recalibrate his scans for a third time as he grumbled.

"The next time, you're waiting outside even if I have to offline you myself."

At the threat Bumblebee visibly wilted, his door wings drooping, as his fingers curled protectively around his charge; avoiding the connected cabling. From that single touch between them, Ratchet observed a spike in the boys system and realized things were only going to get more difficult.

1010101010

In the other room, far from the general cacophony of the Dam, Prowl marched silently. Rundown and discarded equipment had been pushed against the walls, clearing a space for something infinitely more important. To his faint surprise, the security officer discovered that the body had been covered in a large tarp. The silver-black tint reminded him of his war-torn home world.

Shoving away his fear and attempts at rationalization, he whipped the fiber-based plastic from the table, revealing the last mech he'd ever wanted to see like this. Jazz was silent and still for once in his exuberant existence. His hands were clasped over his favored shield. Looking at him his fallen love, Prowl stepped forward, as sorrow twisting his features.

It was one thing to see a loved one fall in battle, but he hadn't even been at Jazz's side.

Remorse and pain flickered along the faint remains of their bond, his spark reaching, for what it had yet to realize was already lost.

Panic gripped him as his hand reached for the body, seemingly, of its own accord. His fingers hovered, just above Jazz's own as his optics caught sight of the cracked visor. Seeing him there, it was almost as if the silver mech was only in recharge. Unable to face it, Prowl turned away, head bowed as he shied from the truth.

Soon or later he'd have to face it.

Face Jazz.

Face the fact that his spark-mate was no longer with him.

He just wasn't ready, not yet.

Not now.

1010101010

Miles finally stopped screaming, after the appropriately dubbed Lucifer's Lamborghini suddenly braked and spun off the nicely paved road, kicking up dust and gravel as it released him from its interior. Tumbling across the sand, the teen rolled to a stop with the paper bag crumpled to his chest; bottles of Mountain Dew scattered about him.

"Sunstreaker." boomed the voice of the large truck known better as the Weapon's Specialist of the Autobots.

The yellow vehicle transformed and stretched followed by its twin, both of whom were used to such warnings. Reaching down, he closed his fingers over the downed teen looming closer to look into his sandy countenance.

"Just repaying him for scuffing my hood."

Came the reply of the impossibly immature bot.

As ordered by Ironhide's implied tone, the mech stood down optics flickering at the teen.

Miles spat on him in reply and squirmed away. He even went so far as to kick dirt at him. He couldn't hurt him, not with the others around. Long Arm seemed to laugh again as Mikaela managed to look vaguely horrified and amused at the same time.

"Why you-"The vain Autobot trailed, off slipping into his native tongue to curse the fleshy creature beneath him.

"Fuck. You." Miles replied and gathered his effects before stomping back towards the base, amidst the laughter at the shamed mech.

10101010

At the same time within the confines of the second floor, or rather the second basement, Judy Witwicky was giving the riot act to Tom Banachek, who as of that moment hadn't known her son was still in custody. As the official head Sector Seven's Advanced Research Division and by proxy most of the agency's current projects, Banachek had briefly heard about the boy's kidnapping and subsequent rescue. He'd assumed, incorrectly that the teen had been hospitalized and his family had been notified.

His subordinate, Simmons had claimed the matter taken care of, and he knew exactly who to blame for it. Suppressing a sigh, he made a note to have a long conversation with his field agents and their ideas of protocol.

Attempting to both soothe and explain the matter to the shorter, but incredibly fiery woman, Tom called for a junior agent. He still, of course, had work to do; possibly firing an obnoxious field agent, in particular. But he would be pleased to have her escorted to someone who could help.

Judy wasn't soothed by the development, but finally agreed to put the paperweight back the desk without bloodshed. As the pair exited his office they ran into a full-blown reprimand of a junior officer by the field agent he'd felt the urge to fire.

The man paused at his superior's appearance, but smiled warmly at the woman beside him. She didn't return the gesture, but then again he didn't expect her to.

Tom, however, was in no mood to play around. "Simmons, did you call Mrs. Witwicky?"

"I did, she needed to know about her boy."

"Is there a reason her son was detained and not sent to a hospital?"

The Inquisition continued.

"Actually there is, if you'd come with me?"

Reggie turned down the hall and marched off without waiting.

Glowering after him, Tom made al note to give him hell when things calmed down.

"I'll leave it to you… Mrs. Witwicky"

He inclined his head before turning back to the safety of his office.

Taking the woman's arm, Reggie escorted her to the elevator as he began explaining. As the door closed, he paused to introduce her to his junior officer Mikaela.

As if sharing a joke, both women smiled at him.

"Oh, we've met."

Resisting the urge to smile he began again, citing the latest speech of a particular N.B.E.

1010101010

Once again in the 7th floor or basement of the secret facility of Hoover Dam, Miles stomped off towards the corner of the hanger he'd left not so long ago. The converted infirmary was devoid of humans save for Sam, who Miles wasn't sure counted as human anymore.

The teen was lying on his side, a drab gray blanket draped over his shoulders as he slept. To the left of his makeshift bed sat Bumblebee, the bright optics flickering as he waved to the teen.

Moving closer towards Sam, the blond smiled sadly. He'd known the goof since they were kids. When he'd first moved to Tranquillity and didn't know anyone, he knew he'd hate it. After he met his next-door neighbor, Sam, however he found he was right. It took a week of water balloons, mud puddles, and the combined force of their mothers to convince them both otherwise.

Samuel J. Witwicky from that point on had officially been Miles C Lancaster's best friend. At least, he would be until he moved again. A new bike ride, two blocks down and two blocks over and they officially became blood brothers. His mom had been horrified when they had wandered into the house covered in blood and dirt. The subsequent trip to the hospital for tetanus shots would not be the last one they took together.

"So, you're back"

Looking up to the Doc-Bot, Lancaster nearly dropped his Mountain Dew. The twenty-foot mech was standing a little ways away from the pair; an oversized saw extended from his arm.

"Uh, yeah."

The Autobot snorted and moved closer, seizing the yellow mech keeping vigil. Bumblebee seemed to protest, but the medic didn't give him a choice. The room shook as the bright alien Camaro dropped to the floor. Wobbling on his feet, Miles scrambled up on to the table upon which his unconscious friend currently resided. Making himself comfortable he watched as Ratchet thumped the scout in the head with a wrench as he began to reach for the mech's throat.

The smaller mech only whined and chirruped in protest.

Feeling guilty the human turned away, sliding his fingers towards Sam's hand.

"Don't." the CMO ordered above the noise of a spinning saw.

"Do not engage in physical contact until his internal systems have stabilized."

Crossing his arms the teen rolled his eyes. "What am I going to do take him dancing?"

Hardly impressed Ratchet offered another solution.

"If you must put you hands on something come here and be useful."

Reaching for another tool, the medic indicated the chassis of the prone mech.

Sparing a glance at the unmoved Sam, Miles moved to do as he was told. From the look in Bumblebee's optics, he figured, this would be a good way to make peace as any.

1010101010

The massive figure of Optimus Prime was pleasantly surprised by appearance of Samuel Witwicky's mother, Reggie Simmons, and Mikaela Banes in his makeshift office on Sunday afternoon.

The air of uneasiness about them, however, was just enough for him to greet them as a Commander rather than a friend.

"Mrs. Witwicky…It's good to see you. Agent Simmons, Agent Banes…"

"Prime." Simmons replied with a flippant salute, as Mikeala waved. Judy only frowned.

Raising from his alternate mode, the mech looked down at them. "I'll assume this isn't a social call, what seems to be the problem?"

Staring up at him, Sam's mother stepped forward hands on her hips.

"I want to know why my son is still here instead of home where he belongs."

Cycling air through his vents, the Autobot knelt to look at the trio; his optics glowing in the shadows cast over his face. Slowly, he examined each one of them, a bit closer than they would have liked in Reginald's case, but he then focused on Mrs. Witwicky.

"Has no one told her?"

A fair bit miffed at being talked over, Judy moved closer, tapping him firmly in the face mask.

"Told me what?"

The question and the confusion caused by it were not to be answered immediately, as Prime rose to his full height and beckoned them to follow. Used to that sort of treatment, Simmons and Mikaela did as suggested, bringing the irritated woman behind them. Crossing the room, they entered the medic bay and were greeted by the sound of an exuberant Miles.

The teen was standing in Bumblebee's hands, wiping sweat from his brow as Energon dripped from his rubber gloves. Ratchet even looked pleased with his progress and took the moment to say so, as the repaired Camaro chirruped.

"Not bad… for a first time… you show much promise."

The teen's no doubt sarcastic reply dropped unsaid from his lips as he sighted his surrogate mom, standing in the doorway.

The CMO looked to the visitors, then to Optimus, as Judy repeated her question. Startled by her assertiveness, Ratchet was simply blunt in his answer.

"The damage he sustained was too severe for him to be moved. He's only just recently becoming stable."

As truthful as it was, it was also the stupidest answer the medic could have given especially to a worried mother.

"I'm taking my son home and, so help me, he will never be put in any danger again"

Turning on Simmons she glared. "You'll be lucky if I don't sue."

Despite the fact there was a low possibility that she could, he wasn't taking chance.

Optimus said nothing, Ratchet however wasn't so quiet.

"His condition is nothing any hospital could handle. Primus, it's nothing I'm trained to handle."

Turning back, Judy was not having any of it.

"My son is coming home with me, where he belongs."

To her surprise Samuel Witwicky disagreed.

"I can't."

Judy stared at her baby anger and confusion on her face.

"But Sam."

"There are things beyond anyones control, things that we are meant to do, things we can't explain."

Moving forward he slid from the table, wobbling as he stood. She almost moved to help him, but Mikaela's hand on her arm stopped her.

"We're in the middle of a fight…. Just because we won a battle, doesn't mean we've won the war. I have got to see this through. I don't know what will happen, but I have to stay."

There were tears in her eyes and he stared back firm in his resolve. She'd never seen him like that before, and to be honest, it scared her.

"I don't want to lose you. I couldn't bear to."

He shook his head, eyes almost glowing in the light. "You won't"

No one moved and they scarcely breathed eyes and optics set on the mother and son.

"I don't know that" she insisted, memories of her baby boy fresh in her mind.

Before anything else the yellow, but no less impressive form of Sam's guardian Bumblebee, loomed over him setting large yet gentle hands over his shoulders. He smiled to his friend, covering one large hand with his own.

"No harm shall come to Samuel James Witwicky, not while I still function. I will protect him from any and every threat, until the day nothing else exists. This I swear, by the very spark in my chest."

Stalwart and steadfast, the Autobot looked to all witnesses of his declaration, to his solemn commander and to his charge's surprise maternal unit. Not a soul moved. Still he held Sam and waited for any recompense, but none came.

There was nothing to say.