And indeed there will be time
For the yellow smoke that slides along the street,
Rubbing its back upon the window panes;
There will be time, there will be time
To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;
There will be time to murder and create,
And time for all the works and days of hands
That lift and drop a question on your plate;
Time for you and time for me,
And time yet for a hundred indecisions,
And for a hundred visions and revisions…
Do I dare
Disturb the universe?
In a minute there is time
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.
(T.S. Eliot, " The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock")
###
When Lennox had left Epps, it had felt as through an inexplicable gulf had widened between them. His head and heart were reeling as echoes from their last conversation chased themselves end over end throughout Lennox's thoughts.
"…I'm not in your command, not in the unit…"
Empty words, empty statements forged out of anger, frustration and gawd only knew what else. He, like Epps, needed time, time to be away; but where, amongst this yawning graveyard where the corpses of skyscrapers surrounded them, could one separate themselves from such desolation and destruction?Lennox understood what weight Epps carried on his shoulders; the experience, the shock of the past few days, of the battle itself, of the recovery, of pulling battered bodies and bits from ruins was a burden the whole team would carry with them for the rest of their lives. But to deny Epps was a part of the unit?
Bullshit! Lennox's consciousness automatically responded. Whatever his service record did or did not show Epps would always be an active member of NEST as far as Lennox was concerned. More than that, Epps wasn't just another recruit, he was family, and that meant something, dammit.
Lennox let his feet take him where they would—he had walked through every inch of these grounds, was too familiar with them already, enough so that he held no fear of stumbling. He closed his eyes against the sound of debris crunching under his steps, wincing as a metal shard squealed beneath a boot heel. He didn't dare look down, didn't want to see familiar paint on those steel bits. They all had lost pieces and parts of themselves here; the bots just had a tendency to do it physically was all.
"... I don't have your back anymore…"
Epps voice, horse and warn reverberated through his thoughts again. Just empty words...right?
Empty, empty, empty…
A singsong croon, mocking, damning because when Lennox had looked into Epps' eyes, that's all there had been: emptiness. Unsettling and disorienting as vertigo, Lennox stumbled from the thought, moving to lean against the first solid structure he could find—in this case battered and crumbling stonework, a railing of sorts to be precise. But Lennox did not, could not see what lay before him, beyond him. All the veteran could discern in the growing evening was the expression that had haunted Epps' face, his gaze: only absolute and complete nothingness.
When had Epps given up? Given in?
"The reporters today…"Epps began sporadically, unable to meet his friend's gaze, "Something that one of them said…"
Frantically, Lennox's gaze flitted from side to side, tangled in thought and emotion, seeing nothing and feeling only the ghostly whispers of the last conversation he had with his brother-in-arms.
"The reporters today…something that one of them said…"
There was more here, had to be. Epps had been trying, trying in the only way he knew how, to tell him what was slowly destroying everything his friend believed in. At the time, Lennox hadn't seen it, perhaps hadn't even been willing to look.
"This reporter looked at Optimus and...called him a monster."
But Epps knew how to handle reporters, Lennox's fatigued brain screamed at him in frustration. Epps of all people knew better than to believe anything the tabloids could drum up.
Monster…
So it wasn't the kindest description of the bots, but then again it also wasn't the worst that Lennox had heard. Again, his mind circled around what Lennox knew to be indisputably true: Epps was above the petty insults of tabloids, of reporters pushing the niceties in order to incite a leading response, a telling emotional reaction. Epps had always been quick to shrug off such accusations without any consideration. He knew the bots, knew who each and everyone of their characters and capabilities. Once, not so long ago, the only opinions or perceptions that mattered to Epps had been Optimus', Lennox's and Elena's.
"What did Optimus say?"
"Nothing. Not a damn thing. He just took it."
This shouldn't, shouldn't have surprised Epps. Shouldn't have ignited such anger and uncertainty within the man…
"That's not surprising though, Optimus knows how to handle insults and empty accusations."
Just like Epps was wholly capable of…the thought evaporated into mist. Again, Lennox recalled those last words of Epps, pushing, prying, trying to understand where the wound had been sustained, where the damning blow had fallen…
"What did Optimus say?"
"Nothing. Not a damn thing. He just took it."
There.
Nothing. It all came back to nothingness.
There it was, rearing its ugly head, rude and uncouth in its blatancy. This doubt marring what should have been unshakable faith. After all that Megatron and Sentinel had done, Optimus had acted in the one manner that Epps would have never been able to foresee or predict. Conditioned always to fight back, to protect and defend, Epps hadn't been prepared, hadn't known how to take that one final step; after the dust and debris had settled, Epps hadn't anticipated that he would even need to forgive.
But did that capability, that choice to forgive, truly make Optimus a monster? Forgiveness a monstrous act?
Lennox wrestled with the notion, strange and unfamiliar. The Good Book he had been raised with said different. But as he pulled this idea apart, examining its every fiber, he began to question, to wonder. Forgiveness a monstrous act... Monstrous perhaps in the level of effort, of sincerity it required, demanded even?
That Optimus, of all beings, could look upon all that was left, at the smoldering ashes of their way of life, and forgive? That spoke volumes of the 'bot's character didn't it? No anger, no hatred, no frustration, nothing, nothing but forgiveness. The taste in his mouth grew bitter as Lennox attempted to swallow the one realization that had been pulling Epps' apart. Forgiveness, in this way really was monstrous. So much utterly and completely destroyed and undone, so much waste and despair and yet, calmly without hesitation or hindrance Optimus had forgiven it all. Had been able to walk away from the monsters that Sentinel and Megatron had become, walking away from the nightmare they had invoked.
Epps hadn't been prepared or able to make such a large step, though to be honest, neither was Lennox, at least not just yet. There would be hard feelings for years to come for the unit's commander, he knew this, didn't shy away from it. He didn't have the strength of heart to forgive Sentinel, Megatron, the Decepticons, hell he couldn't even wholly forgive Mearing just yet for her ruthless willingness to step aside and allow the Autobots to be exiled.
Darkness fell, a shimmering curtain of sleep for some, but for others, for Lennox, it was a yawning hallway, black and endless that stretched forward, on ward and on ward. He wouldn't rest tonight, couldn't until he found some method or means of surmounting what damage had been done; he had to bring back the man he knew so well, the man he counted on as a brother, as a friend, as an uncle to his daughter. Where was the Epps he had always known and counted on? What could…
A strange sound reached Lennox's ears then, light, soft, gentle. It took his beleaguered mind half a moment before he recognized what he was hearing: laughter. It was then that he thought to look down, to look and actually process the scene below him. On the terrace beneath his, Lennox watched as Sam 'pushed' a whining Bumblebee towards the water's edge while Carly observed carefully from the sidelines. Of course, Sam was no more capable of pushing a house than he was of pushing Bumblebee anywhere, yet the young scout played along, allowing himself to be inched forward, step by grating step.
There was a hollow rattle, a soft clatter of plastic and metal that echoed up, and Lennox noticed that Carly wasn't empty handed, but rather held a simple bucket, filled with an assortment of rags, window cleaner and sponges. Such innocent amusement, it did wonders to lighten Lennox's spirits, to ease the weight that he bore on his shoulders. He couldn't help the weak smile that graced his lips at their antics.
"C'mon, Bee!" Sam's voice reverberated up, hollowed out by the surrounding stonework, "You need a wash! Just think of how much better you'll feel, no more grease and grime—"
But it wasn't just the wear and tear of battle that Witwicky wanted to wash away. Cleaning Bumblebee would physically cleanse away the taint of war, of dried energon and oil, soothing torn and twisted panels. To comfort and be comforted; Lennox knew that Sam wanted to do this for his guardian, for his friend, as it would be at least one way he could not just be near the scout, but perhaps one of the few comforts that he could offer to the Autobot.
The edge of the river came up surprisingly sudden, but just as Bee was about to topple forward, the scout deftly twisted, scooping up Sam as a well timed audio clip accompanied the two into the cool waters beyond, "If I'm going down, you're going down with me!"
As soon as Bee's yellow digits had wrapped around his middle, Sam had let out a screech of protest, "Nononononononononono! BUMBLEBEE NONONONONONO—"
Splash!
There was a musical refrain of Carly's laughter as Sam sputtered to the surface, looking around for his guardian he was quick to splash water in the Autobot's direction, "Thanks a lot, Bee." Sarcasm dripped from his words, "You happy now?" Sam glared at the two baby blue optics that watched him from just above the water's surface.
Thoroughly enjoying the moment Lennox watched as Bumblebee lifted Sam out of the water in an attempt to make amends, and clambered back up onto the concrete ledge. Still feigning anger, Sam waved away Bee's various audio clips of apologies, "Uh huh, whatever, Bee. Just transform so we can get to your windows."
Despite the growing evening, Lennox was impressed that the two youths seemed to complete a relatively decent job, from where he stood on his lofty perch, already the Camero's rims gleamed, his paint took on a glossy luster once more as layer after layer of soot and sorrow was scrubbed away. Their every touch was gentle, soothing and occasionally Bee would emit murmurs of contented clicks and chirps.
Lennox shook his head when Sam signaled Bumblebee to jump back into the river to rinse off. For without any hesitation or pretense the Autobot neatly grabbed both Sam and Carly and walked straight into the chilly water. More shrieks of protests, laughter and shrill curses ensued until finally Bee carried the young humans back to the dry safety of the balcony. Toweling off the young scout, gradually the grumbles faded away as charity was restored between the three. With a thick growl of his engine, Bee opened his doors, urging Sam and Carly into his well-heated interior. Once tucking them safely inside, Bee drove away, turning the corner at a leisurely, almost sluggish pace, disappearing from Lennox's line of sight.
A sharp stab of sorrow accosted Lennox's heart then as Bee's taillights faded away in the deepening night. In that moment Lennox's heart ached with the desperate wish that the wound that stretched between himself, Epps and Optimus could be mended with the ease that Sam had evidenced in his impromptu wash of Bee. His tired gaze came to rest on the Bumblebee sized puddle that had been left behind. As he watched it slowly began to grow, spreading out ward, much in the same manner that energon had pooled on that fateful bridge.
Now, the echoes of Sam and Carly's laughter rang sour instead of sweet.