A/N: Epps wanted his say. Since Will and Sarah were being difficult, I let him ;) This interlude runs parallel to the story up until now, giving a bit of an outside point of view to it all.
Robert Epps had never considered his position as Second in Command of NEST as anything more than another source of paperwork, courtesy of one commanding officer who was entirely too good at delegating said paperwork and a bunch of alien robots who caused just as many problems sometimes as they fixed.
He had never considered his position as anything more than another source of paperwork... and then said commanding officer had been killed and brought back in a series of events that still made Epps' head hurt, and the alien robots had been distracted at best by the new robot in their midst, and Epps had been left trying to juggle it all, demands for explanations from generals, insistent video conferences with congressional lackeys and politicians that he kept postponing, and above it all was NEST, just as worried as their new commander was, and rumours were running rampant even as Epps tried to keep it all under control.
"I can't keep making up excuses," he said to Optimus two days into the deal, eyes red from lack of sleep and with only copious amounts of coffee keeping him going at all. "I know what's going on. The team does, too – they don't know for sure but they've guessed enough to get the basics, even if they're not going to tell anyone else. But nobody outside knows and I'm running out of excuses with the brass. Somebody has to make a decision, and they better do it fast."
Preferably something better than 'he got turned into an alien plane like the ones that've fragged up the Air Force every time they've had a run-in, and now he's staying with the 'Bots', too,' but Epps wasn't even going to object to that one, as long as he got some orders he could use.
He wasn't as good at reading Big Buddha as the kid was, but something in Optimus' expression at that told Epps that the big mech had already considered that particular problem. He wasn't surprised, either. It was what leaders did, and Optimus Prime was the best there was at the job.
"His human body died in defence of this planet," the mech said with the same regret in his voice as Epps had heard from him or Will a few times before, when there were hard decisions to be made and no easy way to handle it, and that voice had never been a good sign.
Epps' grip on the papers in his hand tightened slightly at that but that was all the reaction he could really muster, too tired to feel much at all as he guessed where the conversation was heading. "Killed in action?"
"It would be easier," Optimus agreed quietly, "for everyone. We can not afford to have a Cybertronian under human jurisdiction, much less a Seeker."
Human jurisdiction, who'd either pick him apart to see how he worked or send him after Starscream or Megatron or whoever had pissed them off the most that week and get him killed trying, and Epps nodded, suddenly tired of all of it, of politics and fighting and stupid, Pit-spawned 'Cons.
"I'll get it done."
If there was brief gratitude in Optimus' expression, Epps ignored it. It was human business, with a human soldier, and the big boss had enough to handle if the tiredness in his stance and the hard expression on Ratchet's face when he'd passed the medic earlier was anything to go by.
The paperwork for that kind of thing was uncomfortably familiar to all of them, and Epps was already going through a mental checklist by the time the rest of his brain caught up with him and he wanted nothing more than to grab his stupid commander, whatever the hell body he was in, go get slagfaced, kick his ass, and then crash for the next week.
He had no condolence letter to write, at least. Sarah already knew.
He stared at the paperwork in his hand, meaningless and useless, then nodded to Optimus and turned and left with a tired sigh and a lingering longing for something stronger than coffee. The human-turned-Seeker was out there somewhere and he tried not to wonder where as he made his way back to his own office.
I'm sorry, man, he said silently.
The teams would have to be told. General Morshower. Liaisons, support crews, politicians...
But for the moment, Epps really didn't care.
"Nobody wants to tell me anything," Sam said frustrated on the third day, after six windows had been shattered by a jet hitting the sound barrier way, way too close to the ground and Diego Garcia's flight control had stayed tight-lipped and wide-eyed when Epps had tried to grill them about it. "He died and got turned into a robot-jet-thing like Starscream and all 'Bee tells me is that he can't say anything and he's sorry and that Ratchet's working on it. I asked Optimus, and he told me the same. He's my friend. He hauled Optimus halfway around the world because Simmons told him I asked him to, kicked Galloway out of a plane, and pretty much killed his military career if I'd been wrong, and he did it anyway." A deep breath, tanned fingers running through unruly hair. "And I heard Ratchet tell the big guy that he's unstable and they don't want him around humans yet, but it's Will and... I just want to help. He'd have done the same for me."
Epps didn't ask where Sam got most of his intel from and it probably didn't matter, anyway. Most likely, their NEST team had talked. Sam was all but an honorary member, anyway, and they all liked the kid. The 'unstable' part was new, and Epps made a mental note to ask Ratchet about it next time he saw the mech in a decent mood. He'd gotten close enough to exchange a grand total of one greeting with the man-turned-mech before Ratchet had hauled Will off again the night before, and he'd gotten the impression that even that had been an accidental encounter their medic would have preferred to have avoided. What little Epps knew about reading Seeker expressions, Will hadn't looked unstable to him, but it might've explained why Ratchet had frowned. Will had passed by other humans on base, word of mouth had told him that, but none of them close enough to talk to him, much less get within easy reach, and maybe that was why. He'd ask about it when he got the chance... if he ever made his way out of the office with the ever-mounting paperwork again in the first place, because he was starting to understand why Will had dumped so much of the crap on his Second in Command instead of dealing with it himself.
"Can't help you," he finally said and he probably looked as tired as he sounded, even to himself. "I'm sorry, kid. I'm supposed to be in charge and they don't even tell me anything. Nobody even mentioned the word 'unstable' to me. You probably know more than I do right now. I get the paperwork and the headaches and occasionally I try to pry some intel out of them and they give me some smooth-talking slag that don't tell me anymore than I already knew."
The kid ran his hand through his hair again and looked twitchy in a way Epps had learned pretty fast meant that he was nervous, and then he sighed. He liked the kid, he really did, but right now anything new meant another headache and he already had enough of those to deal with. "Listen, kid... I'm sure 'Bee's got his reasons, but if I hear anything, I'll pass it on."
Because it was Will, and the kid was worried, and it was the only thing he could do right now, and if it added another headache to his collection, he could deal with that, too. The kid had brought back Big Buddha. If passing on a little intel if he got it would make the whole thing a bit easier to deal with, then Epps would do that, because there was slag-all else he could do.
The kid seemed to have realised that, too, because while it clearly wasn't what he'd hoped for, he nodded and sighed, anyway.
"Thanks. I appreciate it, I really do. I'm just... I wish I could do something. Waiting sucks."
Epps knew that, too, but he'd had a lot more experience dealing with it, and he offered only a short, tired nod in return, and watched as the kid turned and left and his mind returned to a million things that still needed handled, and every single slagging one preferably should have been done a week ago.
Waiting sucked but for the moment, there was nothing else they could do.
He ran into Sarah Lennox on the fourth day, looking as tired as Epps himself felt and with a hard look in her eyes that wouldn't have been there in a world where Will was human and alive and well. He felt suddenly guilty for not having been there at all for her, wondered where four days had gone and realised a moment later that he wasn't actually even sure of that, and Sarah tugged a lock of hair behind her ear and just watched him.
Epps was silent for long second, not sure what to say at all-
-I'm sorry, I should have done something, I should have stopped him, I should-
- and then Sarah broke the silence and took that headache away from him, at least.
"Ironhide is looking out for him," she said quietly. "He's- I trust him. I made him promise." A small, uncomfortably shrug – she was trying her damned best to handle it, and Epps wasn't sure if he was envious or grateful that he had paperwork to distract him, at least – and then she sighed. "I don't know how much they've told you."
-Nothing, they told me nothing-
- And Epps sighed, too, because that wasn't her headache. "I know some. I was there. Sam told me..." That Will isn't stable, he didn't finish, because he didn't know if she knew and slag it all, it was no way to hold a conversation, and he had always hated that 'classified' crap.
Sarah must have thought the same, because she offered a wry, small, tired smile. "They're worried he's going to be dangerous." She took a deep breath and anger flared in her eyes in an instant, was replaced by fear and worry and desperation, and Epps hugged her tightly as she crumpled against him. "It's Will. It's my husband, Bobby. He'd never hurt me and they still won't let me see him without someone there. To stop him." The last part was spat out in between sobs, coherency melting into grief that had been kept at bay for too long already, and Robert Epps could do nothing but hold her and offer a wrinkled uniform to cry in.
"It'll be okay," he whispered, held her protectively and felt her grip him tightly in return. "It's Will. You know him. He's going to be fine. I promise, Sarah."
Her desperate grip lessened slightly and Epps fell silent and let her take her time.
And so help me, he silently promised, I will have your fraggin' ass for target practice if you make a liar outta me, Lennox.
By day five, the sound of something fast and alien hitting the sound barrier way too close to base was starting to become almost familiar, even if it still would have hauled Epps out of bed if he'd been sleeping. As it was, he'd been buried in paperwork and video conferences and uncomfortable conversations with people who didn't know whether to offer their condolences about the loss or congratulate Epps on his promotion, and he settled for a resigned sigh and would have spent the rest of the day keeping track of a million stupid things if he hadn't gone looking for Optimus Prime and run into Ironhide on the way.
Almost literally, at that. He knew Tall, Dark, and Not-Too-Handsome well enough to recognise annoyance when he saw it, and Ironhide turned his head and looked like he was about to snap at whatever unfortunate soul had dared to interrupt him-
- And then he had recognised Epps and stood down again and Epps was not too proud to admit he was more than a bit relieved at that, too.
The smart thing to do when Ironhide was annoyed, they knew from experience, was stay the hell away from him, but after five days of worry and anger and paperwork and way too little sleep, Epps didn't think he had anything left that could muster the coherency to do 'smart' if his life depended on it.
Instead, he did the one thing that he'd wanted to for days, levelled a frown at the mech, and verbally paraded right up in front of the firing squad and flipped it the middle finger.
"So, anyone going to tell me what the frag is going on with Will?"
Ironhide just watched him, but there wasn't that distinctive sound of cannons charging that usually followed when he was really pissed, and then the mech slumped slightly, tiredly, and Epps felt a moment of painful sympathy.
"He is a Seeker," Ironhide said, weariness shining through what Epps didn't doubt was supposed to have been a flat response. A Seeker, like that was supposed to explain everything, and Epps heard a frustrated sigh and took a moment to realise it had come from himself.
"You know, I appreciate having one of you actually willing to talk to me, but I'm not an Autobot. I'm human. 'Seeker' doesn't mean slag to me as anything other than some winged 'Con fraggers that need a goddamn nuke up their exhaust pipe, and they need it yesterday."
Ironhide snorted and there was no humour in the gesture, and if Epps hadn't been worried before, he sure as slag would have been now. "That would be an accurate assessment."
Not much help at all, that, and Epps bit back another frustrated sound as his sleep-deprived mind worked as fast as it could to make whatever sense it could of it. Will was a Seeker. Seekers were Seekers, Seekers were fragging pests, Seekers had issues, Seekers were brutal, Seekers were deadly, Seekers were 'Cons-
His brain stumbled to a terrified conclusion even as Ironhide was moving again, heading somewhere else and probably blow something up because that was the Ironhide method of dealing with slag, and Epps raised his voice to get his attention.
"He's stronger than you think!"
A pause, Ironhide hesitating for fractions of a second, and Epps saw his chance again, five days of stress and worry and frustration finding an outlet in his anger.
"He's your friend! You know him! He's stupid and he's stubborn and he's a goddamn danger to his surroundings sometimes, but he's not a 'Con. Slag it, Ironhide! He's stronger than you think!"
Ironhide was still for a moment as perfect silence followed, and then he turned and left and Epps sank back into the Jeep, tired and desperate and with dark, nauseating worry settling in the pit of his stomach.
Don't make me a liar, Lennox, he mouthed soundlessly, forehead resting against the steering wheel and trying not to think about Sarah and Annabelle and having to tell a woman that her husband didn't just die but turned traitor, and he closed his eyes tightly and repeated the words, silent and desperate. Please. Please, don't make me a liar.
On the sixth day he managed to corner Ratchet, the medic on his way to the training ground Epps had discovered that Ironhide had claimed for himself, and he had steeled himself, decided the mech had looked in less of a bad mood than the previous days, and took his chance.
He'd wondered about what to say if he got the chance but when he finally found himself in the situation, he was still too tired, too worried, and too stressed to manage much of anything, and what came out was weary and resigned.
"What do I have to do to get an actual update on him?" he asked and didn't bother to elaborate on who 'him' was, because they both knew that just fine. "You want me to beg? Because let me tell you, I'm pretty close to that right now."
Not particularly dignified but he didn't particularly care and he continued as Ratchet's expected annoyance failed to make its scheduled appearance in favour of what looked like an almost concerned frown.
"He's my friend and you're freaking the frag out of us. 'Bee won't tell the kid anything. Sarah isn't allowed near him without one of you around, and when I ran into 'Hide yesterday, he talked like Will was about to pack up and join the 'Cons."
There, it was said, and Epps sighed and crossed him arms and waited for the verdict, too tired to really work up the proper energy to put into it all, and with bits and pieces of a dozen mental checklists flickering in his mind, scrambled together and utterly useless by now. The memory of a paper with his signature and a death certificate he would remember in painful detail for the rest of his life, and then Ratchet was speaking and Epps looked up again, a second slower than normal as his mind tried to keep up.
"You need to recharge."
Epps shrugged, a silent gesture of what-else-is-new. "Later." Next month, maybe, or next year. Or maybe when he was dead, because they all knew damn well that fighting 'Cons was never a safe duty.
Definitely a disapproving frown from the medic, and maybe it was the lack of sleep that delayed Epps' common sense for long enough for him to straighten a bit and frown right back. "He's had my back in battle, Ratchet. Now I've got his. You want me to sleep? Fine. Tell me what the frag is going on and I'll consider it."
The medic seemed to consider his words for a moment, and then his expression softened just a bit. "He is learning to adjust." Softly – gently, almost – and if that wasn't a bad sign, Epps didn't know what was. "He has two personalities in his processors to deal with now, two distinct entities – the human and the Seeker spark and programming. Even at his most human now, he will never be the person he was before. Never completely. The Seeker will always be there." A heartbeat. "I am sorry."
Sorry that Will was apparently a schizophrenic alien robot with wings and an attitude now, and Epps rubbed his face with his hand, too tired to even question the words. It was NEST and while it was true that this situation was probably right on top of the 'Weird Slag That's Happened' list, there were a few close runner-ups, too. You didn't stick around if you didn't have a suspension of disbelief that was a lot more flexible than most.
"Frag," he muttered under his breath and rubbed his face again, trying to get some of the exhaustion to go away. "Is he gonna be okay?"
Ratchet was silent for just long enough for that gnawing worry to start to make an appearance again as he watched Epps, probably wondering how much to say, and then he finally responded. "He is... improving. For now, it looks well."
Which probably meant that asking about how he'd be doing later was a bad idea, and Epps settled for a nod. Maybe he should ask, maybe he'd regret later that he didn't, but there was only so much he could deal with at a time and none of them were in any position to guess about the future.
"Thank you," he said and made a vague gesture of something even he wasn't sure what was. "I'll... go sleep now."
Sleep, somewhere away from paperwork and people and fragging phones, and maybe he could crash on the human-sized couch someone had put in one of the Autobot-sized hangars. They wouldn't poke him, at least, not with the threat of Ratchet there to stop them.
"Do that," Ratchet agreed, and even the slight note of 'or else' in his voice wasn't enough to stop Epps' lips from twitching slightly in pale amusement, much more used to hearing that sort of thing directed at Optimus Prime or Ironhide instead.
He was tired, he was worried, and he still didn't know much about anything that was going on, but Will was getting better and he had doctor's orders to get some sleep, and as Ratchet turned and continued on his way, that was good enough for now.
It had to be.