A/N: Just a quick note, neither Bumbee nor I are intimately familiar with the printing industry or the mechanical nuances that go into prepping a front page article. Thus, for those of you that are, we ask you to please turn a kind blind eye on our woebegone assumptions. Also, while this will feel more like a slower paced interlude-though there is some heavy-handed foreshadowing to be found here!- we ask that you please bear with us, things will be picking up in the subsequent chapters and more bots will make an appearance very soon!
That having been said...onward!
Please R & R!
~~~Epsilon Pax & Bumbee
###
"Awesome travelers! What noble chronicles
We read in your unfathomable eyes!
Open the sea-chests of your memories
And show us jewels made of storms and stars.
We long to journey without steam or sail!
Help us forget the prison of our days
And on the canvas of our minds unfurl
Your visions framed by the horizon's gold.
Tell us what you've seen!"
(-Baudelaire, "Travelers")
###
"So."
The single word cut through the evening air, slicing cleanly and neatly through Epps as easily as it did the atmosphere betwixt Lennox and himself. Without turning towards his brother-in-arms, Epps resolutely kept his eyes on the horizon, retaining his position slouched over what was left of the railing that guarded any individuals from taking an unexpected tumble into the Chicago River. His bare forearms rested upon the cold stonework, riddled now with so much more than the weathering of time and the elements. Idly, still keenly aware of the presence of Lennox at his back, Epps's dark eyes flitted over the stone work; huge gaps had been torn into the divider, and what was still standing was blackened and charred, riddled with yawning bullet holes. So much destruction… It made Epps' dinner churn bitterly in his stomach.
"So." This time enunciated with more bite, Lennox moved to stand beside Epps, mimicking his friend's stance, NEST's commanding officer similarly leaned upon the stone, resting his forearms unwittingly directly over a blackened wound of bullet holes.
"I don't know what you want me to say. You heard what Olsen and Stuart reported, I don't have nuthan different to add."
"I've known you far too long to believe that."
Epps' only response was to glower at Lennox, an expression that was largely lost in the growing darkness.
"C'mon, Epps…"
"What do you want from me?" The question snapped out, more as a snarl than anything truly civilized.
"Level with me."
"Level with you."
Patiently, knowing that Epps needed to work through his surface temper, Lennox merely nodded, "Level with me."
"Screw you."
"C'mon, Epps. It doesn't take a genius to see that something's been eating at you. You've changed, especially these last few days."
"What the hell do you care? I'm not in your command, not in the unit—"
"—is that what this is about?—"
"—I'm retired damnit. I'm getting too old for this shit—"
"—Epps that's bullsh—"
"—It don't matter anymore, you don't have to worry if I'm sane enough to function in the unit, I don't have your back anymore…"
Now it was Lennox's turn to growl out a retort, loud enough to drown out Epps, keeping him from continuing on his empty tirade, "You'll always have my back, just as I'll always have yours; nothing is going to change that, so don't try to feed me any other bullshit."
As if suddenly winded, Epps fell silent, sulkily kicking at a loose chuck of stone that had been violently excised during the climatic battle. Hoping that Epps had already burned off most of his formidable façade of temper, Lennox once again endeavored to reconnect with his friend, "Level with me, Epps. What's been eating at you?"
As if in shame, Epps hung his head, memories of earlier that morning swarming him like a nest of hornets. Unbidden the biting words of the reporters rang in his ears once again: You can't keep hiding those metal monsters!
Monsters. They had looked at Optimus and seen nothing else except a monster.
He's. Not. A. Monster!...not a monster… couldn't be a monster…couldn't….
But there was so much destruction, so much laid to waste, to ruin…not just Chicago, not just all of the countless other places all over the globe that had fallen victim to the clash of the warring factions, but there was an entire planet out there that had been stripped away into nothingness because of their war. Epps swallowed thickly, always tasting ash and smoke, unable to get away from it, he felt completely and wholly permeated by those bitter elements.
Monsters.
Monsters.
Suddenly Epps wasn't so sure that they weren't.
"Epps?"
"The reporters today…"Epps began sporadically, unable to meet his friend's gaze, "Something that one of them said…"
Lennox opened his mouth to reply with a dismissive retort, but stopped short, realizing his companion needed to say this, to work through whatever this was.
"This reporter looked at Optimus and...called him a monster."
Again, Lennox paused, considered, "What did Optimus say?"
Epps shook his head, "Nothing. Not a damn thing. He just took it."
"That's not surprising though, Optimus knows how to handle insults and empty accusations."
"But are they empty accusations?"
"What?"
"That reporter…he was right, they left us, they stood by and let hundreds of us get slaughtered by the Decepticons, they—"
Lennox fairly bristled at hearing such doubts coming from Epps of all people, "Hold up, the Autobots are not monsters, we know this better than anyone else, and they didn't leave us, our government kicked them out. We exiled them. But they still came back for us, even after we abandoned them without a second thought. "
"I can forgive that though."
Lennox lifted a brow, "Can you?"
Epps squared his shoulders again, a sure sign he was gearing up for a fight again, looking for a verbal battlefield on which to purge all of the warring emotions and sentiments within, "Our government was only trying to protect us in any way that it could, sure they acted out of fear but they were fighting for us the only way they knew how."
Now it was Lennox's turn to shake his head, "I…I can't believe I'm hearing this…and from you."
"Hey, at least the government was fighting for us. Optimus and the others just gave up, just walked away. After everything, after all those high minded one-liners he always spouts, he didn't even put up a fight."
"You can't be serious, you can't be…" At a complete and total loss Lennox ran his hands through his closely cropped hair, scrubbing his face with his palms as if he could scrub away all of his weariness, all of the responsibilities and cares that had been pressing down upon him over these last few weeks. And now, this.
"Look what Optimus—"
"—Oh what so you're going to go and pin all this on Optimus now?—"
Ignoring his interjection, Epps plunged onward, "Look at what they did to our city?" He threw out an arm in an emphatic gesture indicating their surroundings. "There's hardly anything left!"
"The Decepticon's did this! Not them! Not Optimus!"
"He let them!"
"Bullshit! All of this was because of Megatron and Sentinel!" In a rare show of heated temper, Lennox surged forward, grabbing his friend by the front of his bedraggled shirt, shaking him none too gently to assure that he had Epps' attention, "What the hell has gotten into you? Is that what you really think happened? Look around you Epps! This city is so torn up because they did fight for us!"
Not to be cowed, Epps shoved his friend back, "He forgave them, Will! He forgave them like it was nothing, like we were nothing! Like none of this mattered!"
"Is that what you think?" A final shove and Lennox brusquely let Epps go, "Damnit, man, I don't know who got to you or what, but you need to figure this out. Go talk to Optimus…"
"I don't have anything to say to him."
Epps could have thrown a grenade at Lennox and he couldn't have been more surprised at the retort. The silence that descended upon and between the two friends was thick and suffocating. Finally, Lennox shook his head, digging into one of his pockets he unearthed a folded, single sheet of newsprint. Without any other preliminaries, Lennox closed the distance between them and shoved the folded page against Epps' chest, "Look I came out here to find you and let you know that Mearing wants to call those reporters back. They threatened to go public with that—"here he indicated the mock up page with yet another shove before stepping away, "—unless we allow them back for a full interview. Rather than cover the whole thing up, Mearing thinks we could use this and it could help turn public opinion in the Autobots' favor."
Not daring to look down at the page that he clutched, Epps wordlessly glared back at Lennox.
"She wants everyone there with the expectation that most of the unit is going to be interviewed as well."
"Is that an order?"
His patience at last evaporating, Lennox matched Epps' surly tone, "Damn straight it is. So you get your act together and be there tomorrow."
Epps waited until Lennox stormed off, the sound of his footsteps echoing hollowly off the concrete before dissipating altogether, before he dared to unfold the page that Lennox had given him. Front and center was a picture of Optimus, but the Autobot leader was not alone in the shot. Really the picture couldn't have been planned out or arranged better if Mearing truly wanted to spin this in the Autobot's favor. For just as centered in the photograph was Epps, Optimus' war torn frame—clearly missing an arm—knelt behind him, not looming or dangerous in the least, or rather at least not to him. As if to emphasize as much, even in the fading light, Epps could make out the surly and defensive expression on his face in the photo, that and the way that Optimus' hand rested upon his shoulder, protective, not threatening. It wasn't a bad first image to present the public with he had to admit. But then, he read the headline: "Mea Culpa from Autobot Leader and Solider Assaults Reporter."
Even if they didn't go public with this particular article—Epps didn't trust himself to try and actually read it—he knew that this picture and it's corresponding headline was going to haunt him for a long time to come.
###
That night, Epps dreamt.
It wasn't anything overtly nightmarish, nor was it anything entirely different as it was the same dream that had plagued him since their clean up and perpetual search for survivors had began. Not long after he had at last drifted off, the dream descended upon him, beginning as it always did.
He was there in Chicago, or rather in what was left of it. All around him was the all to familiar scene of destruction and death, evidence of lives torn apart and shattered skeletons of skyscrapers that were a silent testament to all that had been lost. Everything was draped in an impenetrable fog, a gray shroud that bleached everything of color, rendering the entire city in shades of slate. Even despite of the poor visibility, Epps never had any doubt that he was entirely and completely alone; the city was empty, devoid of all other signs of life.
Usually, the dream ran the same course, and he would be stuck in this purgatory, wandering listlessly through the ruins until he at last woke up and the dream ended. But this time, an overwhelming feeling of urgency pushed him, gnawing at him as adrenaline surged through him. Frantically he searched, block by block, peering into yawning voids of shattered windows and sagging doorways, never entering but always looking. In the fog, his mind began to play tricks on him, there, looming just ahead, was a Decepticon! He sprang to the side, out of the line of fire, only to discover the phantom being was nothing more than a twisted lamppost.
An oppressive silence thickened the air even more than the mist, he could only hear the sound of his boots as he ran, looking, searching, frantically, knowing that somewhere, someone needed him, needed help. If only he knew what or who he searched so desperately for. And then, just over the sound of his heartbeat in his ears, Epps heard it: metal rasping against metal, servos and gears straining, struggling.
Running to the end of the block and catapulting around the corner, Epps skidded to a halt as a grim sight greeted him. There, trapped beneath a mountain of slabs of broken concrete, steel girders and other twisted remains of a gutted building was Optimus. Glistening energon pooled around the Autobot leader as he struggled to free himself, each effort proving to not only be futile but detrimental as it only served to further entangle his frame and result in the loss of more energon.
The sight coupled the surges of fear and adrenaline with that of hopelessness; Epps was struck with the understanding that not only could he do nothing to help the Prime, but that he was somehow responsible.
Forged from insidious doubt, from frustration, pain, and anger concrete tendrils wound up from the ground he stood upon to wrap around his ankles and legs, holding him fast; even if Epps had wanted to, he was trapped, unable to help, unable to move, forced to watch as Optimus continued to struggle, slowly bleeding to death. And through it all he couldn't excise feelings of guilt, that he was somehow responsible, that he had done this.
You can't keep hiding those metal monsters!
Finally, Epps could take it no longer, and he cried out, a raw sound, imbued with everything that warred within him. It rippled throughout the scene and split the air wide open; Optimus ceased in his efforts, that great countenance snapping up, faded and tired optics lifting to rest upon Epps.
And in that moment, Epps realized exactly where they were in the city; casting its shadow over the entire scene, loomed the same building that he, Sam and Carly had been trapped in. Now, its tenuous angle was all the more prominent, and as his gut wrenching cry reverberated, the building gave out a final, death moan, the severed top half at last breaking free and came toppling down in a rush.
No goodbyes, no heroic last words, Optimus knew what would come next and bowed his head waiting, just waiting, through it all his gaze upon Epps never waivered. And then, the building came crashing down, enveloping everything in dust and debris, the sheer concussive force tossing Epps backward and away like a rag doll.
Always quick on his feet, Epps picked himself up, heart pounding in his ears, but there was nothing, no movement from the rubble when the dust settled. Nothing, only silence.