Title: Sparks 12: Page Out
Pairing BeexSam, ProwlxJazz, RatchetxIronhide
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.
There's a list of people to thank for this chapter. Lovely special people who put up with my random attempts at plot and prose.
First up the director
Muzaiden- My brilliant and insane twin is finally making her debut as Co-writer.
The chorus. My betas and test readers.
dragoona lemonflav_lopfe dania99 lady_foxfire mmouse15 mimi_sardinia okami_myrrhibis tsumiden
All of these fine folk witnessed bits of the chapter before completion and we're only too kind to offer kind words and advice. (Watch out, I may call upon you again)
And the Musical accompaniment
lady_foxfire and lemonflav_lopfe
This pair also helped in the final decisions for song selections.
I owe them all a great deal of thanks. Mere words cannot express the appreciation I feel for their timely assistance. But In lieu of that I offer this fic.
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!
121212121212
Sparks 12
Page Out
121212121212
It was nearly dark when Chromia crossed Tranquility city limits. Tucked securely inside her cab, Trent DeMarco scrolled through the recent call list on his phone.
He'd only just gotten his mobile back before they'd left the 'super secret government facility'.
Hoover Dam had been pretty nice for its picturesque landscape and cultural relevance, but Trent never wanted to see it again in his life.
He couldn't think of it as anything other than a cheap Area 51. He'd been assured that it, along with everything else he'd seen did not exist.
Not that he really cared.
He had just wanted to go home.
His inbox was filled with calls from his mother, his now ex-girlfriend, a few classmates and the latest cutie he'd been entertaining on the side.
He shrugged and tucked the phone away, unwilling to jump back into reality so quickly.
Things had changed, he'd changed. During his internment, he'd even deigned himself to talk with Witwicky. The kid wasn't actually half-bad, not that he liked him or anything. He had absconded with his girlfriend, after all.
The fact she'd even considered dating him was more of an ego blow than anything else.
And now they weren't even together. It was beyond comprehension, well almost. It seemed the little dork was feeling his car more than the playboy bunny in training.
Sliding his hands along the steering wheel, Demarco nearly laughed
From what he could tell Mikaela couldn't care less. She was just thankful that she'd finally met a decent guy who wasn't just interested in getting to know her better. The busty brunette was almost as into cars as heavily as Witwicky. They were practically perfect for each other, just not romantically.
Lancaster, now he was a mystery.
He'd gotten mixed up in the conspiracy and was just as much of a spare wheel as Trent himself.
During his stay at the underground facility he'd managed to endear himself to the medic and become his assistant. The fact he was actually good came as a surprise, albeit a welcome one, to the parties involved.
The so-called team that he had refused to join.
It wasn't that he didn't like the Autobots.
He already loved Chromi and Mikaela's little truck buddy wasn't half bad. He just wasn't about to get wrapped up in something so weird.
He'd missed enough practices already.
The aforementioned Hummer neatly took a left by the darkened coffee shop half a mile down from the High school and cruised down the empty street. From up above, the street lights casted shadows across her and her passenger as she pulled to a stop at a corner. The radio went off with a click and she activated her communications system to address her quiet charge.
"Hey Sugah?"
He turned at the sound eyes roaming the interior as his heart rate increased. The femme could have slagged herself for the slip. He was still just getting used to the changes in his life. She scowled internal scans flicking over him more out of habit than worry as he tried to relax.
"Yeah?"
"You alright there?" she inquired softly headlights illuminating her path.
"I'm just thinking" he shrugged, as she eased past the familiar buildings of his hometown.
"About?"
Trent shifted in his seat, and removed his cap, as a sleek silver vehicle passed by with a low rumble.
He never used to think about cars so much before, well, except for her.
"Your friends are a bit much."
The Autobot snorted and bounced on her shocks the radio giving a burst of static.
"And yours aren't?"
She was speaking from experience of course. As his baby, she'd carted the teen and his 'groupies' around on more than one occasion. A gaggle of rowdy minors she could handle even if they had the combined manners of a wet napkin. Her real issue was with the other, more intimate encounters she'd been privy to in her time as his car, none of which she cared to repeat.
"While we're on the subject, no more happy time in my backseat. Please."
Resisting the urge to laugh, he curled his hand lightly over her steering wheel. "I thought you liked being touched."
His retort was also born of prior knowledge. After her secret had been revealed to him and the resulting chaos had died down Trent had taken some time to reacquaint himself with his little 'bunny'. His attempt had consisted of nothing more than curious poking her of alternate mode, but more specifically those very touches were just enough stimulation to evoke a unusual reaction. Never before had he ever heard a car purr in the matter she had once his hands brushed her grill. Chromia had responded favorably to the contact, not that she herself was surprised; she'd gone without it for far longer than even she cared to admit.
"Not by vapid little playmates." She corrected him sharply.
"By who then?"
The sudden question left the femme startled and unsure how to answer. Instead she ignored the question and focused on scanning the surroundings. Perturbed by the sudden tightlipped stance the Hummer had taken, the young human was forced to make his own assumptions.
"Not the Big guy?"
"Optimus? No o'course not. That fine piece of mech is too focused on his work, but to be honest, he rather easy on the optics."
Her confession came as a surprise, but it wasn't quite the answer he was looking for so he tried again considering the available candidates. He was silent for almost a minute before speaking again.
"Prowl?"
"No!"
Her reply was sharp and unexpected to the curious teen; he stared at the lights of her dashboard as her tone softened. "His mate, Jazz died after reaching this planet, in the Battle of Mission City. He never got a chance to say goodbye."
The femme hummed softly and turned another corner. reaching the block that held her human's residence. Basking in the uncertainty, the teen tightened his grip just slightly on the steering wheel.
"Is he going to be ok?"
"He may be or he may not, our kind bond for life-"
"And ours don't?" he interjected folding his arms across his chest.
Chromia sighed slowing down, her lights dimming as she began to correct the human's misguided assumption. "Not like ours do sugah. Cybertronians bond with the spark of another for our entire lives. We don't fall out of love and we don't leave each other. A Sparkbond lasts between two of our kind from the moment it's made until the point they cease to exist.
"It sounds cheesy." Trent replied offhandedly, but he retracted his statement when the Hummer engaged her brakes.
"You don't hear me criticizing your people's customs do ya?"
"No, but that wasn't the point…"
"Then tell me Mr. DeMarco what was?"
Leaning back, Trent traced little circles on the smooth edge of his seat as he replied.
"That you're still in love with that guy. You used to be bonded to, Ironhide, right?"
The brilliant blue Hummer sank on her struts, the radio crackling strangely. The very air within in her darkened cabin seemed charged, but that paled in comparison to the tone of his baby's voice.
"I am not bonded."
The rest of her statement trailed off into an incomprehensible mess as she practically vibrated beneath him. After a moment she fell silent, acting in a manner Trent recognized from various female members of his own species. His sentient robotic car was sulking. There had to be more that she wasn't telling him. He just had to find a way to pry it out of her.
"So you weren't bonded to him?"
A low rumble worked its way from her framer before she replied distantly.
"Oh we were bonded, ages ago."
"I thought you said such a bond lasts your entire lives."
That sweet voice had turned se cold and every light faded blanketing them in darkness.
"It's supposed to-"
"Then?"
"I never said it couldn't be broken."
With that admission, the driver's side door swung wide, releasing him out onto the street. Unable to find anything to say Trent stepped out moments before the door swung shut.
"Chromia?"
"Good night, Trent…"
With such an air of finality there was nothing for the jock to do, but turn back to his silent home.
Fishing his keys out of his pocket he unlocked the door, reaching for his cell. Turning away from his baby, he punched in a number he never really expected to call as he pushed the door shut.
"Good Night Chromia."
His unheard vocalization didn't last long as the line clicked audibly. Despite the voicemail that greeted him the jock focused only on what he had to say.
"Witwicky. There's something you need to know."
121212121212
Miles ducked another dropped wrench and scuttled back to his place beside Ratchet. The large CMO was in rare form, dressing down the damaged siblings, as his assistant snickered softly. Apparently, as of four am that morning, an unrecognized signal had hacked the Pentagon and rerouted all of its servers to the popular image-based bulletin board known as 4chan in the span of fifteen minutes. It seemed the twins couldn't stay out of trouble even if they were sitting still, not that either of them claimed responsibility for the crime, but the Autobots knew better.
With Optimus indisposed and no sign of either Prowl or Ironhide, Ratchet was left to dole out punishment. Thankfully for the pair, a brig had yet to be built at the Autobot's unfinished base, but despite that small luxury the medic had developed the best sort of punishment. It was simple, yet effective enough to keep the twins in one place and prevent them from getting into any other sort of devilment.
Probably
Satisfied with his accomplishment, the almost smug Hummer turned to the grease-covered human and held aloft the integral component of Cybertronian technology. It glimmered in the light and the teen stared for a moment, before opening his mouth in what was most surely awe.
"What the heck is it?"
"This, Mr. Lancaster is a transformation cog." Carefully passing the large gear to the blond boy, Ratchet continued his explanation. "Clean it, study it, and know it. There will be a test."
Staggering under the sudden weight, Miles stepped back and cradled the alien technology to his chest.
The action not only redistributed his balance, but splattered his shirt with yet another substance he couldn't identify.
"What does it do?"
The Autobot Officer looked from the rumbling Lamborghinis to Miles and he sighed.
"Exactly as the name implies, now familiarize yourself with its parts and its location in the frame, I'll return shortly."
Dumbfounded, the medic-in-training stared after the departing Autobot.
"Wait! What am I supposed to do?"
As any good instructor would the CMO gave the sputtering teen an encouraging smile.
"You were paying attention weren't you? Deactivate the other one and remove it. I'll show you how to replace them when I get back."
"But..."
Ratchet paused mid-stride to direct a meaningful glare back at the twins.
"You slaggers are on probation. You're playing teaching aids until further notice. Don't do anything and let my assistant work in peace. If you don't ,
Switching from the incomprehensible jumble of Cybertronian curses and complaints, the pair replied in unison.
"Transparently."
Satisfied, the Chief medical officer moved down the hall and disappeared from sight ,leaving the trio behind.
Looking back to the part in his hands, Miles groaned. It was bad enough he was stuck with his least favorite bots in the entire base, but he had to replicate his instructor's work before he could call it a day. Unfortunately, he hadn't really been paying attention while the medic worked.
Not one bit.
So he didn't have a single clue as to what he was supposed to be doing. Setting the large piece down resulted in loud clang that echoed throughout the room and he jumped in surprise. Ignoring the mild laughter from his patients, and source of his perpetual frustration, Miles moved toward Sideswipe with determination.
The red vehicle eased away, lights flashing as he spoke up.
"Wrong one genius."
Rolling his eyes, the teen turned slowly and moved for the second car. He was in low spirits and this was not helping. Rapping his knuckles on the shining hood, Miles addressed the robot-in-disguise.
"Open up."
As he expected the perturbed vehicle refused his request.
"Do it or I'll-"
"You'll what?"
"Stop fucking around and open up."
After a few more threats coupled with minor dents, and welding torch followed by a sincere entreaty by his brother, Sunstreaker finally popped his hood. The sudden movement forced Miles to jump back, before the swinging panel hit him in the nose. Grabbing the hood strut he forcefully jerked it into place, ignored a yelp of pain and peered under the hood.
The yellow Lambo's innards were similar to any other Cybertronians, not that Miles had seen many.
Just Bumblebee's and Prowl's and at the time Ratchet had been the one manipulating parts and welding plates. The silver engine was warm to the touch, even through his gloves he paid it little attention instead focusing on the gear he'd been instructed to find. As he navigated the labyrinth of familiar yet alien parts, Sunstreaker was only too happy to let his displeasure be known in lurid detail.
"Ow Ow Ow Ow Ow ow Ow Ow Ow Ow Ow!"
The repetitive interjections, while distracting, didn't deter the teen who responded to each sound in kind.
"Stop complaining. I'm not hurting you. If you keep this up I'm going to deactivate your motor functions!"
Such threats usually presented by Ratchet did not bother the Sunstreaker in the least and he kept it steadily driving the medical assistant insane. Five minutes later and their combined antics were enough to make Sideswipe speak up.
"Primus, you're acting like Sparklings! Streaker, let the human do his work or you'll be on Hatchet's bad side, again. Milton. Stop probing that. The cog you're looking for is to your left. If you're not sure what you're looking for try asking someone who has a clue before you do permanent damage."
At the exclamation, the pair stopped bickering. Exactly forty-five seconds had passed after the exasperated statement before Sunstreaker began laughed hysterically.
"Milton… your name is Milton?"
As he spoke the source of his amusement, a one Milton Lancaster, waved a wrench threateningly in the direction of the other twin.
"How did you-"he began irritation heavy in his tone.
Drawing back the Autobot managed a helpless shrug despite the fact he was in the form of a car.
"The internet…"
Grumbling Miles, or Milton as he was forever to be known, smacked the snickering bot again and resumed feeling around in his engine compartment. In attempt to curry favor or at least avoid such violence, the red twin cruised closer to the pair; his fender nudged the back of the human's knees as he began offering suggestions.
"Right there. No a little to the left, his left…down…"
Turning about Miles glared at the Lamborghini behind him. "Would you stop helping?"
Despite the outburst, Sideswipe rumbled against him and continued chirping brightly as the teen finally found the smooth cog.
It looked just like the other one that Ratchet had removed in half the time it had taken the human to find it. Sighing, the blond braced himself against Sunstreaker and leaned forward stretching his fingers toward the necessary component.
A soft rumble rose from the vehicle and the gear in question shifted before his eyes. In his surprised flight, the teen smacked his head against the hood and doubled over the warm engine, rubbing a hand over his head.
"Damn it. Would you just let me work?"
"Why, Milton, where is the fun in that?"
Shoving up the sleeves of his jumpsuit Miles glared. "I'll show you fun."
Rising slightly, the Milton balanced himself on Sideswipe and reached back under the Autobot's hood. The sudden intrusion surprised the pair and they went silent watching Miles make good on his words. With fingers splayed over the engine, he used the wrench in his hand. The sliver joints were cast in shadow as he moved, his hair falling from the confines of his rubberband. As he twisted the securing bolts and connections, the Lamborghini beneath him began vibrating; the purr of its engine rising in pitch. As the part came loose Miles caught it and tucked away into his pocket before brushing his fingers over the recently vacated niche.
Beneath him, Sunstreaker gave a soft whine and shook vigorously forcing the human to grab at his internal components for balance. This seemed to make matters worse, and the Autobot began sputtering loudly in his native tongue. Sideswipe laughed, practically bouncing on his shocks. His twin, however, growled unpleasantly in reply, at least until Miles put his hands back into the engine compartment.
Leaning to examine the other side of the component, the blonde teen began to worry; his patient had suddenly gone eerily silent as he worked. Pressing his fingertips to the cog earned yet another shudder and a purr. Surprised, by the rather unusual response Miles stopped at once.
Had he done something wrong? What if he'd done something to permanently damage the bot?
Unsure of what else to do, he decided to take the previously ignored advice.
"Sideswipe?"
More knowledgeable about the current situation, the still snickering mech responded by rolling forward, thrusting the human further under the hot hood. He spoke calmly and quickly, directing the trembling teen.
"Grab the clamp there, and cinch that cable. Yes, the one under your fingers."
His tone was full of amusement as he spoke, his carbon copy, however, had yet to reclaim the ability to make coherent statements. Listening to him, the medical assistant almost stopped. Fortunately for the suffering mech, Sideswipe was able to soothe his fears.
"Don't worry, he's just sensitive. You'd be too, if someone had their fingers inside you."
Already carrying out the imparted instructions, Miles wanted to inform the bot what was so wrong with his statement but decided not. He didn't want to know if the inference was intentional or not.
Sunstreaker rocked and hissed, as Miles moved, working the other connections from the rapidly warming engine. Crawling over the smooth hood, he moved closer squinting at the bits of metal and bundles of cables. He paused briefly, his fingertips trailing the edge of the piece. In reply, Sunstreaker groaned and sunk on his wheels. He didn't know it, but he was practically torturing the mech. Even now, during the process of being locked into his alternate form, his spark was pulsing. It was strange to have the little digits moving around in place only two bots had ever touched, it was also incredibly arousing.
"Miles!"
Jerking at the sound of his name, the blond lost his hold on the wrench and it skittered across the floor. Unsure of what else to do he swore loudly and resorted to using his fingers, twisting to remove the loosened bolt. Beads of sweat dripped down his head as the engine got even hotter; the rising heat was nearly scalding as Milton worked. Static leapt from his digits and palms rippling through his body, over his spine before grounding itself in the car supporting him. A faint glow rose from the purring engine, but Miles was so focused on his task he didn't notice, his advisor, on the other hand did.
With a sudden pop, the final coupling came free; releasing the cog and a burst of pent-up energy along with it. The excess force knocked Miles back over Sideswipe and steam exploded from Sunstreaker's hood before it slammed shut. Sagging on his wheels the yellow Lamborghini fell silent, but that minor miracle was ignored in favor of the still warm cog nestled between Milton's hands.
Looking from it to the twin cars, Miles sighed, wiping moisture from his eyes; he was only to content to lay against the nicer twin, almost boneless from the unexpected exertion.
"Not bad Miles." Sideswipe murmured lazily, amusement in his tone. "Not bad at all."
121212121212
Well out of earshot, Ratchet strode purposefully through the partitioned hanger, pushing aside the suspended plastic sheeting blocking the far side of the room. The mech's footsteps echoed over the reinforced flooring as his time weary optics scanned the cavern walls that were younger than Bumblebee. For such a young species, humans were incredibly resilient, despite the situations they encountered.
Steeling himself, the medic passed by the dusty corner that had come to serve as a hero's tomb. Turning briefly, the medic caught sight of the sparkless being that had once been an impeccable officer and a better friend.
Jazz.
In the frantic moments after the mech's death and the subsequent trip to the hospital, there had been no time to mourn. With Jazz dead and the Allspark gone, saving Samuel had been their top priority. Days following the battle, Ratchet almost wondered if his death had been worth it. Laying a hand briefly upon the scratched chassis he knew it had been. They had been so focused on protecting the All Spark, but their lieutenant had taken the fight to their enemies. Jazz had died distracting Megatron, his last act buying them the time they'd needed.
Tearing his gaze from the body Ratchet looked to his hands. It always hurt to loose a comrade. With so few Autobots scattered along the galaxy every loss was devastating. The recently arrived security officer had essentially compounded that opinion into hard fact.
Prowl had withdrawn from every attempt at interaction made by humans and this state, he was still effective as a tactician and an officer, but the light in his optics had begun to fade, his laughter was hollow, and his very spark had begun to flicker. As Jazz's living bond mate, this mourning was expected. It was a shame, that the Third-in-Command was mourning himself to death.
There was no way to truly make up for the loss of one's bonded. Many a mech had tried to patch the voids within themselves. Sometimes it worked; if the bond was new there was a chance the surviving partner could recover. It was uncommon, something that happened under special circumstances or with time. Some bots, who'd lost their bonded, tried finding solace in their work, in combat or more often then not, in the arms of another. Prowl, the CMO knew from experience, was not the type of mech to do such a thing. He could not seek comfort from another anymore than he could fly.
If such solace was offered to him, he'd refuse, even if such mourning could only lead to his death. Prowl was strong, but not even he was that strong. His attitude, it was something that struck the medic hard. He'd seen first hand just how bad a survivor could pine. Ironhide himself had been on the verge of giving up when they had bonded.
Just after the loss of the All Spark, Ironhide had gotten the message. Her ship had been shot down on the edge of uncharted space. With his orders cut and his team moving out, there had been nothing he could do, so he mourned. He followed orders; he kept to himself and he had mourned.
When he finally collapsed out of the blue, Ratchet had seen then, what he now saw in Prowl. Looking at the silent, motionless mech the medic had been left with no choice. He hadn't been unwilling to lose another comrade so he gave him a reason to live.
It was a bittersweet memory to him now, looking over his fallen friend. Once a lively, musically inclined mech, he was a part of the Well of Sparks and it seemed his bond mate wasn't far behind. It was just another reason Ratchet hated war. The body of Jazz had been repaired to best of his ability. Even with an extra pair of hands he knew he couldn't have saved him.
He felt no guilt, only remorse for a fallen friend and he wasn't the only one. Shaking his head sadly, the Hummer seized the protective sheeting and dragged it back over the body of his friend. Turning away he whispered the same promise he'd made to a lost bondmate as he first touched his spark to that of Ironhide's own.
"Rest easy friend, I will watch over him until it is his time."
121212121212
Sam picked absently at a healing scab as Optimus spoke, the jack connecting the Prime to his wrist itched terribly. The mech was going on about something vaguely important, but to honest Sam wasn't really listening. He hadn't been listening since last night, but he didn't want to think about that.
He didn't want to think about the flak he'd been getting from his friends all morning, he didn't want to think about the call from Trent at nearly midnight and he really didn't want to think about-
"-Bumblebee."
The sudden name from Optimus's vocalizer snapped the boy from his thoughts and he looked up suddenly meeting the blue optics for a moment before turning away.
"Do you understand Samuel?"
In one word.
No.
He didn't know what he was supposed to be doing, what was happening to him or why he had even bothered to get out of bed. Sam wasn't interested in the history of the All Spark or the accompanying lesson.
He just wanted to be alone. From his place seated in alien's hand he considered telling Optimus that he hadn't been listening and to just buzz off. In the end, however, he settled for lying to the mech instead, he really wasn't in the mood to do much else.
"Yeah, I got it."
Watching him carefully Prime began to speak again, concern set in the interlocking sections of metal that made up his face.
"Are you sure Sam? This is something that has never been attempted. Your life could very well be put in danger."
Pushing the sweater's hood from his face the teen gave the Autobot a look.
"Again" The big bot corrected himself before beginning once more.
"Samuel, before time began, there was... the Cube. We know not where it came from, only that it held the power to create worlds and fill them with life. That is how our race was born. "
"I know that." The teen spoke up again staring off into space.
Optimus smothered a long-suffering sigh and continued lifting the young male to optic level.
"What you do not know, what we have come to understand, is that as embodiment of the All Spark, you have come to bear certain qualities."
This time he was silent considering the Autobot's words. Part of him wasn't sure if he even wanted to know what the aforementioned qualities could be. Optimus, however, wasn't done.
"Your new abilities which are as of yet untested are what the Decepticons attempted to use."
The statement brought up sudden memories to Witwicky's mind, pain, light, fear, and pleasure. He shuddered at the thought of red eyes watching him in the darkness. He was going to have nightmares about that that for a long time.
"They tried to use me to raise an army, is that it?"
He'd dealt with worse than aliens trying to use him for their own means. He was sure he could handle himself. The Supreme Commander's next words however were not what he expected.
"It's much worse than that. They're trying to use you because you now bear a receptive spark."
"What? How?" Sputtering Sam turned to Optimus, confusion in his features. There was something else the bot hadn't told him.
"The All Spark has given you the ability to commune directly with the Well of Sparks."
The Well of Sparks it was the supposed source of Cybertronian existence that from which all Autobots and Decepticons came. The traditionally held belief was that within the Matrix existed every Spark that ever was, and every Spark that ever would be. The fact he was now a gateway to some sort of alien Valhalla stunned the teen into silence.
"Megatron knows what has happened and Decepticons will not rest until that power is under his control."
"Oh."
The not so subtle change in the teen's tone marked his reluctance to remain on the subject. He wasn't adverse to the idea of a higher plane of existence or anything of the sort; he just didn't want to talk about it anymore. There were just some things that struck too close to home. Optimus moved again, the whir of machines and gears loud as he shifted.
"There is something else." From the way he spoke, his tone gentle but firm to the apologetic look in his optics Sam knew what he was going to say.
He knew and he didn't want to hear it again.
He couldn't.
The memory was still too fresh. The pain and regret of what he'd done. Nestled in the care of the Autobot commander, Sam's mind flickered to the night before and the biggest mistake he'd made in his short life.
The Camaro's engine had rumbled softly as he'd carried his charge to a less crowded corner of the base. Sam asked for privacy and the sixteen-foot alien had immediately moved to fulfill his request. Bumblebee drove slowly through the second hanger, where Megatron had once resided.
It was blissfully empty, probably on the account it was still highly restricted.
Neither paid much attention to the big bright warning signs, it wasn't as if any human could stop them even if they'd wanted to. They hadn't had time for themselves in ages, this moment was for them.
As they'd eased into the laboratory, Bumblebee's one time prison, the teen remained silent. Some things were more important than shooting old ghosts.
Things, like whatever it was, developing between them
Sam took a breath and glanced down at his guardian. There was something, feelings that weren't quite so subtle. Things had just naturally progressed to that point and it wasn't even a secret. When Trent DeMarco had noticed that he was dancing around his feelings, there needed to be a relationship reevaluation. Sam had sighed, softly tracing the black lines on Bee's dusty hood.
He had been scared, but he had to come clean.
His last heart to heart with Miles had revealed a few things about his relationship with his car and that last lip to lip session with Mikaela had served to underscore those revelations.
He was in love.
Sliding down as the alien rolled to a stop, Sam made himself comfortable on a bit of plastic sheeting draped over the large table. He refused to turn around, almost afraid of what he could find and Bumblebee only had optics for him. There, in the cool, empty corner of Hoover Dam; Samuel Witwicky was ready to profess his love for his best friend.
If only he could find the words.
Seated before him with legs folded the repaired bot spoke up, well he just activated his radio. "Talk.Talk.Talk.Talktome-"
It was supposed to be reassuring, but Sam had only stared at his shoes with a shy look on his face. He was so thankful that the oversized Ipod of a vehicle had cut the song where he did. Sam was sure he would have died if he'd played the rest. A soft chirp by the once voiceless being and Sam had jumped, his eyes meeting the Autobot's in an instant.
"Things have been different as of late," Sam began slowly rubbing his hands together, "with everything." He looked up, his brows creasing as he tried to find the right words.
"And I've been thinking a lot about us."
No response came, but he didn't need one.
Not yet.
Sam had been so focused on what he was trying to say, rather than any potential replies at the moment.
He'd worried about reactions later.
"When we're together and even when we're apart, I think about you. And this has gone on for a while now. "In that time I've come to understand that I feel a certain way about you."
Bumblebee didn't move, but his radio burst to life, a familiar chorus echoing over the pair. "Don'tspeak;Iknowwhatyou'resaying.Sopleasestopexplaining-"
"No Bee, I don't think you do." Sam had interjected, cutting the musical interlude short.
It was not the time for it.
If only Bee would listen.
Staring up at the bigger bot, it suddenly occurred to him what he needed to do. If he wanted to let Bee know how he felt he had to do it his way.
To his sudden surprise and joy the right words bubbled up inside and he almost laughed.
Sliding from his perch, Sam claimed the Autobot's massive hand between his and took a deep breath. Bumblebee watched him curiously but did not intrude, it was a solemn moment. He'd tipped back his head and addressed the brilliant mech that doubled as his guardian. His voice was soft and steady even thought the rest of him was not. Shutting his eyes he began, summoning all the courage he possessed.
"Wise men say-"
Almost instantly the Camaro joined him, the bright vocals of some pop group matching his words as he half spoke, half sung. "Onlyfoolsrushin….."
Peering back up at Bee, Samuel finally said what he'd been trying to say all along and he did it in song.
"But I can't help falling in love with you."
All at once the young bot moved slowly and wrapped his hand about the teen, drawing him closer, but leaving him on his feet. It was something he'd done before just when he wanted the teen close. This time however, the action itself had more meaning.
Bumblebee?"
"I know Sam." The bright optics flickered and the teen stared in confusion. "I've known for quite some time.
"But how?"
The darkened faceplates moved slowly as the Autobot leaned closer, the glow of his eyes matching the intensity of Sam's. Tipping his head the scout continued as his doorwings fluttered. "We Cybertronians may be different from your kind, but that does not mean we do not bear similarities. I am well acquainted with the concept of love. I could not help falling in love with you either."
The statement didn't seem to satisfy the boy as he continued to babble confusedly.
"When?
With the bot humming under his palms, Sam was not surprised by the sudden volume of the radio.
"Love at first feel, lightning bolts in my fingertips. Love at first feel"As the strains of the chorus faded, the teen brushed his fingers over the warm armor as he smiled softly.
"Why didn't you say anything Bee?"
"There is so much a man can tell you, So much he can say. You remain my power, my pleasure, my pain, baby. To me you're like a growing addiction that I can't deny. Won't you tell me is that healthy, baby?"
The sentiment expressed from the song was not quite what he'd expected, but it was a start and that was good. Reaching up he laid his palm over the silver plates making up the mech's face. They were smooth and warm, Bumblebee rumbled at the contact and the teen reveled in the intimacy of their newfound understanding. Just as suddenly as it had begun the moment was over and the Autobot was setting him back on his feet.
Slowly the scout moved away, his fingers brushing the curve of the teen's spine. The action though gentle and meant to reassure only worried Sam more. Flickering in the cold and empty room that alien gaze looked through him and a sad chirp slipped from the bot's recently repaired vocalizer.
"Forgive me Sam."
Staring back the young man shook his head, confusion dancing across his features.
"For what?"
The metal fingers stilled as the radio cut in. It was ill timed, but it had become more than just a way for the Autobot to communicate. The use of various collections of tones and lyrics had become the Cybertronian's shield.
"Blank stares at blank pages, no easy way to say this. You mean well, but you make this hard on me."
"Bumblebee?"
This time the young savior sounded scared. Clinging to the large digits cradling him he waited for an answer.
"You are the All Spark; a direct connection to the Well of All Sparks, the beginning and ending of Cybertronian life."
While informative the reply was not the answer the human was looking for. Leaning closer to his guardian he tried again hoping the mech would get the hint and tell him what he wanted to say. "Bee?"
"I cannot be with you."
With that soft vocalization time seemed to stop. Sam stared back. It had not been what he'd expected. Slumping within the alien grip, he tried to figure out what he had been expecting. Heedless of his internal deliberation the mech continued. "I want to be, but I cannot."
The Autobot's words though soft and sincere, had cut his charge to the core. The young human wobbled on his perch as the reality of the statement weighed upon him. Curling his fingers, the solemn teen tried to speak, tried to scream, tried to cry. Supported by the one person who he'd thought would never hurt him, the young man tried in vain to let out his conflicting emotions. Shutting his eyes he looked away, as a painful sob worked its way from his throat. "Why?"
Unable to answer the sorrowful tone, the bot turned back to his musically inclined habits.
"With a taste of your lips I'm on a ride. You're toxic I'm slipping under. With a taste of a poison paradiseI'm addicted to you. Don't you know that you're—"
"Stop!"
The shout silenced the repetitive tune and mindless vocals as the frazzled teen began.
"I don't want to hear that. "
Bowing his head, he shook heedless of the pain in his companion's eyes.
"I just want to know the truth."
The crisp clear tones of the affronted mech echoed in the cold sterile room as he finally spoke.
"To be with you the way you want me to be, the way I want to be will ultimately end both our lives."
Sam stepped back, almost imperceptibly, but to Bumblebee it was clear as day. The last thing he'd wanted to do was hurt Sam, and he'd done a spectacular job of avoiding it. He leaned closer, seeking to sooth his charge, but the teen was having none of it.
Stepping back away he gripped his arms, looking everywhere except at the transformed Camaro.
"Why did you tell me?"
Staring down at him the mech drew back his tone rife with uncertainty and fear.
"It would have been cruel to deny your feelings outright. I wanted you to know the truth. I wanted you to know that I love you."
Bumblebee's cerulean optics were briefly met by Sam's tear-filled eyes. Reaching towards him once more the mech confessed the secret he'd been holding back.
"I can accept being just your guardian for the rest of our lives knowing you feel the same way."
The heartwrenching declaration of the mech urged the teen forward, tears finally making slow paths down his cheeks. Laying his hand over the larger one, he too had a confession to make.
"That's the difference between us Bumblebee. I can't."
Looking away once more the teen uttered the hardest words he'd ever have to say.
"I wish I'd never said anything at all."
As soon as those fateful words had left his mouth, he'd regretted them. Even so he couldn't move as his guardian had whirled about twisting into his alternate mode. The bright Camaro slipped into reverse passed the large doors and cut a sharp turn speeding away from the very person he'd sworn to protect.
Sam hadn't seen him since.
Energy flickered through his wrist, snapping him back to reality or at least a perception of it. Nothing seemed to matter as ripples of light danced before his eyes. Staring off into a brightening glow, he could barely hear the authoritative voice of Prime calling to him. The brief warning however was ignored in favor of the gold and silver trails spiraling through the room. Half-lidded and lost in a state between dreaming and reality, the young heartsick avatar reached for the only constant left to him.
An answering pulse responded to his call bursting to life as his fingertips brushed it. Sudden fear and pain exploded within him as the dark burns along his arm blazed with molten silver. Curling his hands about the fluttering spark, he held on and all else faded. A horror-filled scream escaped Sam's lips as the brilliant glow began to burn taking him along with it.
Cradling the wailing youth, Optimus turned to meet the gaze of his medical officer who had no answer to give. Staring at the last helplessly at the organic that was the last hope for his kind the Autobot offered a prayer to Primus before warnings flared across his HUD and he too began to fall.