Author's note: Yeah, I know I marked this as complete, but Arcee refused to let a mech get in the last word. *sigh*
After Admiral Black made his visit to ask about Autobot art, Ratchet ordered me to take an afternoon nap. I described for him in precise medical detail where he could shove it, but deep down I knew he was right. The Matrix of Leadership wasn't some human magic wand to instantly make everything right. I'd been resurrected, not fully healed, and that took more out of me than I would have expected. Eventually he nagged me into it, but even in the safety of the medbay, I didn't turn off my proximity alarms. I was glad I didn't. About 16:00 hours local time, I jumped awake as I felt a mech moving nearby. My battle protocols engaged until I realized it was just Bumblebee rolling as stealthily as he could to take up a defensive position under my berth. I huffed a little in frustration. It was kind of cute the way he was doting on me, but he really needed to stop acting like I was some frail human or something. I was a warrior, slag it, and it was bordering on insulting for him to be so worried about me still, even if I was recently returned from the dead. I was in Ratchet's medbay with every Autobot on Earth standing by to protect me, for crying out loud.
My pride wasn't the only reason for 'Bee to start treating me like normal again, either. He would need to be able to focus on Samuel if he truly wanted to remain the Prime's guardian. I'd been given the choice to come back because, for some reason, the All Spark thought I could still do some good in the universe. I was pretty sure that getting the human Prime killed by distracting his guardian wouldn't justify me having a second chance at life. Besides, in many ways Sam was Bumblebee's youngling, and as such, he deserved his big brother's undivided attention.
At the same time, I couldn't bring myself to just kick 'Bee out of the medbay. He was still Bumblebee and apparently not even death could change the loyalty and affection I felt toward him. Despite myself, I smiled a little at the thought. Even at my crankiest, I'd always have a bright spot in my spark for him.
Grudgingly, I pinged his comm frequency. /You woke me up./
/Sorry./
/You owe me now./
/I was the one who gathered up all the scrap you'd made of your frame,/ he pointed out. /Even with waking you up, I think that means you still owe me./
The mental image of Bumblebee carrying my own empty shell was enough to chill my spark. No wonder he was being so overprotective. /Which rust-for-processors made you do that?/ I demanded.
/I...um, kind of decided I needed to be the one./ When I didn't answer, he added, /I just couldn't let someone else do it./
Scrap. Scrap, scrap, scrap. When Ironhide ordered me out of that final firefight and I refused to abandon him, I'd only been thinking of standing in Chromia's stead. I hadn't thought about what it would do to 'Bee if I didn't make it out of there. It made my own spark hurt to realize what I'd put him through, and that was on top of him losing Optimus and Samuel. A part of me wanted to pull him up onto the berth and hold him until that ache in his comm-voice was gone. The more sane part of my processors pointed out that if I let him into my berth, the comfort I wanted to offer him would eventually involve a little more connection than would be prudent. And that made my spark ache for entirely different reasons. The Matrix didn't see fit to repair my frame's damage, but apparently it restored most of my fragging spark-energy buildup. Scrap, scrap, scrap.
Comforting him was out of the question, so my only other option would be to convince him I wasn't going to disintegrate into spare parts in the next stiff wind. Ratchet wasn't going to be happy, but then, he rarely was anymore.
I sat up, running a quick diagnostic as I did. And mentally cringed. Energon levels at 16%, fuel levels at 71%, hydraulic fluids at 60%, motor relays functioning at 38%, neural network integration at 46% - I was still a mess. But I was alive and planned to stay that way for a good long time, and Bumblebee needed to realize that, for Samuel's sake if nothing else.
Ratchet looked up from whichever component of mine he was repairing. "Ready for some more fuel?"
"Actually, I was thinking about how I missed my training rounds for the last several days."
He rolled his optics. "Go back into recharge. I'm too busy to deal with delirious femmes."
"I'm serious," I said as I slid off the berth with a little more care than I normally would have. "Don't want my joints seizing up, do you?"
Bumblebee transformed to stand beside me, his antennas drooping in worry. /Arcee.../
I ignored him. "Besides, you'll get a more-accurate scan of the remaining damage if I've actually used all the relays and neural lines and hydraulics."
Turning to give me his full, glaring attention, he demanded, "Need I remind you that you were dead this morning?"
"Need I remind you that I'm not anymore?" I powered up my rifle only to get an error. Slagging medic had disabled it after my stunt earlier. Frustrated, I sent, /It's not for me. 'Bee needs this. He needs to feel that I'm alive or he'll never be able to focus on being Samuel's guardian./
Ratchet blinked in surprise and then gave Bumblebee a long, appraising look.
/It's that or I burn off some of this excess spark energy with him,/ I added with a smirk.
He vented an exasperated sigh at the threat we both knew was empty. He'd learned about me and 'Bee more than a year ago when Sam and Mikaela visited Diego Garcia for the first time. Ratchet had been doing a deep medical scan on 'Bee when I walked into the room, and he noticed the brief flicker of the scout's spark energy. 'Bee had a bright spot in his spark for me, too. Ratchet confronted me about it later, and I admitted that we'd shared sparks once, long ago, though he didn't pry for details and I didn't offer. Still, I always enjoyed annoying the Pit out of Ratchet whenever the opportunity presented itself.
Aloud, Ratchet told me, "I'm not putting you in a training ring with Ironhide. Sideswipe probably wouldn't be a good choice, either. Perhaps Jolt..."
"Pick me! Pick me!" 'Bee quoted, perking up.
/Thanks,/ I sent to Ratchet, genuinely grateful.
He straightened as he turned to Bumblebee. "You'll just be putting her through her paces, understand? Go easy on her no matter what she says or does. You're not actually sparring."
He eagerly nodded, though he cast me a worried glance.
"Let me do one more recalibration of some of those motor relays, and then you need to top everything off," Ratchet said to me. "Fuel and other fluids aren't hard to come by, but the energon will have to wait until we're in a more private setting."
Yes, because Samuel was the only human we might trust with the knowledge of how much energon we had and where it was stored. "Understood. Do we have anything besides jet fuel?"
"No. You get what you get and you don't throw a fit."
I grinned as I followed him out into the cargo bay toward a fueling station that had been set up for us. "Quoting Annabelle's preschool teacher?"
"The humans aren't utterly lacking in wisdom," he loftily answered.
"Some of them are almost smart enough to be a Prime," I retorted, glancing sidelong at 'Bee as he walked beside me. His doorwings lifted in happy agreement, and my own spark warmed at the sight.
There were times when I'd needed the gentle side of 'Bee, but this wasn't one of them. It was my turn to take care of him. I was strong enough in the spark to do it. As Ratchet fussed for the next twenty minutes over my motor relays, I hoped I was strong enough in the frame, too.
The mechs all noticed when I rolled into main cargo bay, of course. I wasn't Optimus or Samuel, but I was reignited and that was enough to make anyone perk up and take notice. I vented a sigh. May as well get this proving-I'm-alive-and-well thing over and done with all at once.
I topped off as quickly as I could and then Bumblebee and I headed toward an open area in the middle of the bay. Bumblebee slowed to a stop, but I continued forward to lazily circle him. With everyone looking at me, I raised my hand and waved it in a mocking mimic of the classic Miss America gesture.
"Stop fragging around," Ratchet growled at me.
"Oh, that's right. We're here to work." I pivoted on my wheel and circled Bumblebee backwards this time, swerving back and forth a little in a swagger as I went. Grumbling softly to himself, Ratchet trained his finely-tuned sensors to me. I started to transform down into my alt-form, but he said, "Don't you dare! Two of your thoracic struts were crumpled. I've dinged them out as best I can, but I wouldn't trust them for a transform sequence right now. Give it another day and a half."
"So what else do you want to see?" I asked.
"Hydraulics," he answered after a moment.
"Right." I looked at Bumblebee. "Vault."
He turned to Ratchet, protesting with a clip of some human movie. "Seriously?"
"Indulge her," he answered. "Just a little hop of one, though."
I sighed, knowing that was the best I was going to get at the moment. As if we were in a games arena back on Cybertron. Bumblebee crouched a little and knit his fingers together in a stirrup position. I made a short run-up and jumped up into his hands. We'd done this thousands of times, back before the end of our world, and I knew from experience that he could send me twenty meters with a good degree of accuracy. Instead, his hands gave more than usual so that I didn't have anything solid to push off of. The end result is that I made it about three meters. He had the decency to land me within arm's reach of Ratchet, so I added a bit of a flourish at the end. "See. I'm doing fine."
He made a vaguely unhappy sound. "Once more, and no showing off this time."
"No back flips?" I whined.
"No! Not even one," he added, knowing that would be my next question. "Behave, or I'm going to put you in medical stasis until we get back to Diego Garcia."
/Not helping,/ I grumbled to him. He gave me a dirty look in answer.
"Fine. 'Bee?"
He nodded that he was ready and we repeated the earlier vault. This time, when I landed, I felt the seal buckle on a hydraulic line in one of the shock-absorbers on my leg. Ratchet saw it as soon as it happened and ordered me down. I opened my thigh-armor, knowing that was where he was headed, and patiently let him weld me back together.
Okay, maybe this wasn't my best idea.
"Give that time to seal again," Ratchet ordered.
"So, then, what do you want me to do next?"
"Go to the med-bay."
"Nu-uh. There's more you can test first," I insisted. "Neural integration. I know, how 'bout Bumblebee and I have a shooting contest."
Venting a long-suffering sigh, he said, "There's no shooting range."
"There's Skids and Mudflap," I answered, gesturing their way and ignoring their shouts of protest. "Moving targets make for a better challenge anyway."
/Arcee,/ 'Bee whined at me. To Ratchet, he said, "Virtual...targets. Holograms."
He nodded in agreement and jerked his helm in the twins' direction. "You don't want to get shot at? Provide holographic targets for them."
"What iz dis?" Mudflap sniped back, "Da Babysitter's Club?"
"No, it's called 'Keeping the Glitches from Being Pains in the Aft.' I'll put you all into stasis if you don't play nice."
Bumblebee made a "What did I do?!" gesture that we all ignored.
"You always did have such a great bedside manner," I snarked at Ratchet as I fiddled with my rifle, overriding the lock he'd put on it and calibrating it to it's lowest power level. It was little more than a flashlight on that setting. 'Bee did the same while Skids and Mudflap tried to settle on appropriate targets for us. It was a good thing all the humans in the cargo hold were NEST, or we'd have a hard time explaining why there were white Monty Python rabbits hopping around everywhere.
Ratchet snorted and privately commed me. /Keep it up and I'll tell Bumblebee just how badly injured you are./
/Do that, and Optimus will be stuck as Sam's guardian. And we all know how well that goes./
He frowned, knowing I had him.
"Come on, 'Bee," I said as my rifle hummed to life. "Let's kill some bunnies!"
It was an impressive slaughter. The twins weren't anywhere near as good with holograms as Hound, but they were decent with a half-dozen rabbits at a time. They programmed the rodents to react like scraplets, attacking when fired at and hunting in packs. 'Bee and I had our servos full and found ourselves back-to-back, falling into a familiar battle pattern. We'd stood together for so long that our rapport bordered on intuition, and a detached part of my processors was pleased that we hadn't lost it despite millennia apart. It compensated a little for the sting of defeat when Bumblebee took out his bunny "pack" before I did four times in a row. My accuracy was pretty well gone by the last round, so Ratchet said, "That's enough for now. I've got the data I need. Back to the med bay with you."
"No way," I protested. "That hydraulic seal's set now."
"Not enough for any more acrobatics," he answered.
"Okay, yeah, but you haven't actually let me spar yet."
He wanted to ream me out about how stupid I was being, I could see it in his optics, and my gaze darted to 'Bee and back. Instead, he frowned.
"Motor relays," I said, and even to me I sounded like I was grasping at straws. "Just going through the motions, more of a warm up, really."
"If you want to slag yourself, who am I to stop you?" he finally grumbled. "But you break anything sparring and I'm not fixing it."
I'd been testing his patience this whole time, so I knew this was the best I was going to get. "Deal."
'Bee and I faced off and, out of habit more than anything, the mechs in the cargo bay wandered closer to form a loose circle around us. It's not like there was any other action going on here.
"Begin with some level-four practice forms," Ratchet instructed.
Again we moved with a synchronization born of long eons of fighting side-by-side, shoulders rolling away from slow-moving fists, feet and wheels sliding across the floor in familiar steps.
/I see what you're doing,/ Bumblebee warned over a private comm as we continued to circle each other.
/Is that so?/
/You're baiting Ratchet. Just don't, okay? Not until you're repaired enough that he can throw a wrench at you in good conscience. Otherwise he just takes out his bad temper on the rest of us./
/You are so adorable when you're terrified, 'Bee,/ I teased him.
He huffed. /And now you're trying to bait me./
I smirked. /You know me well./
/I should, after...everything. So stop it. You don't have anything to prove to him or to me./
His words flew true and struck me to the spark. He did know me - entirely too well. In that moment, I recognized that he knew me better than any of my previous mates, and that was after only one brief connection. I felt a flicker of worry about what that might mean until I remembered this was Bumblebee. Unflinchingly loyal and kind Bumblebee. If there was any mech my spark would be safe with, it was him.
Optimus surprised me with a private comm. /You will overexert yourself, Arcee./
I shifted my stance, letting my left servo lead and buying myself a moment to think, before answering him. /Bumblebee's worried about me. Got any better ideas on how to convince him I'm not going to die on him while he's acting as Samuel's guardian? Because I'm really not in the mood to rupture another seal. Ratchet will have my finish if I do, no matter what he says./
/Understood,/ he answered, and I really hoped that wasn't completely true. Ratchet could turn a blind optic to what 'Bee and I had done, but that was only because of medic-patient confidentiality. If Optimus really understood, then as Bumblebee's superior he'd have to punish him and I didn't want either of them to have to go through that.
"Your gravitational stabilizers seem a little off," Optimus observed out loud.
/Are you on my side or not?/ I demanded, exasperated.
/Yes, and so is Ironhide,/ he replied.
"Level eight forms," the weapons specialist ordered me and 'Bee.
Then I got it; time to stop playing around and show him I was okay before my stamina gave out. My systems were starting to ping my processors with fluid and fuel warnings. Bumblebee and I began moving more quickly. Now we were dodging and ducking rather than sidestepping. My whole body followed through with a fist-strike and I pivoted out of the way when Bumblebee did the same. Optimus was right that it did leave me a little dizzy, but 'Bee was moving with more confidence now and that was all that really mattered as far as I was concerned. It was times like this, when I saw how his frame moved so deceptively light and free, that I remembered how dangerous he could be. He was a very capable guardian, as long as he could focus.
/If I've got nothing to prove,/ I pointed out to him, /then you have no reason to hold back./
/Other than the fact that Ratchet would slag me if I broke you./
/You heard him, I'm on my own./ Inspiration struck. /See, even he thinks I can handle it./
He twisted out of the way of my fist again, but this time I caught him just below the doorwing hinges with my elbow. It was a painful hit but more of a slap than a blow. "Come on, 'Bee!"
His gaze darted once to Ratchet, who simply stared impassively, and then nodded to himself. "Whatcha wanna...see, Doctor?"
"A certain, thick-chipped femme in the med bay," he grumbled.
"She's still going strong," Ironhide countered. "Try a few isolations for those motor relays."
"Who's the medic here?" Ratchet demanded.
"Who's had more physical therapy?" Ironhide growled. "I've spent more time in rehab than you have in medical practice, youngling."
Despite myself I started giggling and Bumblebee's doorwings quivered in laughter. It was good to hear them bicker again; it was practically a form of entertainment anymore. After we lost Optimus...looking up at him now, the thought didn't bear finishing. He was here, and I never wanted to remember again what it felt like knowing he was gone.
"Fine," Ratchet rumbled with poor grace and then turned his ill temper on me, ordering me through a series of forms and working each set of motor relays individually. I could feel the grinding of misaligned gears, the twinges that came from out-of-synch relays, but I was pleased that my motions were still fairly smooth. Even though I was doing this for 'Bee, it felt good to realize just how far I had already come on the road to recovery. On the forms that 'Bee blocked, I even managed to put enough power behind the punch to throw a few sparks. I was getting redline errors on fuel and hydraulic fluids now, but it was worth it to see him not treating me like a frail human.
"Use your lower torso," Ratchet instructed, and Ironhide added, "Side kick."
I jumped into it and 'Bee dodged and counter-attacked just like he should, but a misfire in my right shoulder's motor relay threw off my balance and I landed face-first on the floor. Even left a dent, I idly noticed.
/Arcee, I'm so sorry!/ 'Bee babbled over his comm as he hovered near me. /I knew I was pushing you too hard. Are you okay? Just tell me what to do. I can carry you to the med bay if you're too weak.../
Weak?! In a frustrated reflex, I threw my elbow into his face, making his helm roll back and leaving a pretty impressive ding on his nasal plate.
His babbling turned much more profane and I leaped to my wheel, my spark burning with fury. He was not going to call me weak after all I'd just done trying to prove otherwise to him. But the stress was too much for the repaired rupture in my leg and I wobbled, falling back onto the floor with a clang. My hydraulic system was functionally empty now, and my fuel was so low that I had about 10 minutes of light activity left before I'd drop into protective stasis. That was it, then. All my efforts, wasted. "Slag."
"Give it time," Ratchet said, sounding less smug than I expected. "Your repair systems are still only working at 40%. Let's get you to the med bay and I'll work on that motor relay system again." With a touch he disabled my pain sensors and I vented a sigh in surprised relief. I didn't realize how much discomfort I'd been in.
'Bee extended his servo to me, saying, /It was the whole 'weak' thing, wasn't it. I never should have said that./
I studied him, trying to see any hint of worry or concern in him and pleased that I found none.
/You aren't, you know?/ he added. /Just don't forget you're not alone, either./ "Lean on me...when you need a hand."
And scrap him for knowing my spark so slagging well. Even when I was trying to take care of him, he found a way to comfort me, too. We all need somebody to lean on. I accepted his servo, and he pulled me to my wheel, bumping me playfully on my shoulder.
Smiling up at him, I said "Thanks, 'Bee."
He grinned with his whole frame, looking truly happy again. "Welcome," he answered, and my spark warmed with reassurance. He and Samuel were both going to be okay.