Bumblebee knew that Arcee had wanted to ask him a lot of questions. She'd wanted to ask him what good he thought he could do here. She'd wanted to ask him how he got here to begin with. She'd wanted to know whether he was trying to leave the Autobots for good. She'd probably wanted to know if he was completely out of his mind. She'd wanted the answers to questions Bumblebee couldn't even begin to guess at. And yet, she'd let him go.
Now the Autobots knew roughly where he was, it wouldn't be long before they'd come back and ask the questions Arcee hadn't before, when there wasn't a human around.
The problem was, Bumblebee didn't really have any good answers.
He didn't really owe these people anything, especially not since they had hurt him and forced him to do their bidding. And he couldn't begin to imagine what he could actually do for Fina or to atone for the fact that he had allowed his desire to race to overtake his common sense, that he had allowed his competitive nature to assert itself and permit a human to go into a dangerous situation with him. He'd put his own wants above that of humans. It didn't matter how he'd gotten here, or how awful these people were, they were still human and it was his job to protect them. Last night, he had failed in that duty.
He could not return to the Autobots until he had... what? Atoned for his mistake? How could he possibly hope to do that? He couldn't even talk to these people, and they had control of everything he did. What could he do for them? For Fina?
Bumblebee knew he was a mess. His paint was ruined, he was covered in dents, one of his side mirrors was hanging uselessly by a strip of twisted metal, his windshield had been bashed in and the glass littered his seats and flooring. The energon leak from the night before had stopped, but he still felt sore and vulnerable. But, for some reason, he'd found himself telling Arcee that he wanted to stay. And she, using reasoning too warped to contemplate, had allowed him to do just that.
Not only did he have no power, he was a Scout and she a Warrior, sent by Optimus to fetch him back. By rank and orders, she should have had Bulkhead tow him home. Bumblebee was a soldier in the Autobot army. He'd given up the right to do whatever he pleased the moment he'd joined the war.
On the other hand, his actions -or inaction- had caused a teenage girl to be hurt.
So lost in his thoughts was Bumblebee that he failed to notice when the red haired woman he'd seen briefly a few nights ago entered. He heard the light switch on near the side door, and observed the woman as she came around in front of the SUV and stood before him. Rick and Fina's mother was frowning, and Bumblebee recognized the anger in her eyes. It was a helpless anger, because it wanted to blame someone -anyone- other than the people involved. Bee had seen a lot of it recently.
"I don't know where Larry got you," she said, but Bumblebee didn't get the sense that she knew that the vehicle she addressed could hear and understand her, "but I wish he would take you back. Things may have been bad before, but now my Serafina is in the hospital. Because of you, my baby girl almost died. At least if Rick had been driving that damnable Jag, he never would have let Fina drive it."
You didn't see the look in her eyes, Bumblebee thought.
"Larry promised me -he promised me- that this new car would make things different. That with this car, my children would be perfectly safe," she said, her voice rising in pitch if not volume.
Then why not blame him instead of me?
"But you haven't been in this garage even a week, and look what's happened already. My beautiful girl in the hospital, and you're in this garage... still in one piece, when you should be in a scrapyard!"
Who would you blame if I'd been destroyed? Your son? Your husband?
Bumblebee was prepared to take responsibility for his part in what had happened, but he wasn't about to pretend he'd been the only party involved. But he supposed it was easier to blame a piece of machinery than to realize your loved ones made bad choices sometimes. Easier not only because of not wanting to admit it to yourself, but also by avoiding having to say or do anything about it.
Easier to blame the existence of a car built to take the punishment of a high speed collision than to realize that she and her husband had done nothing to stop it, that Rick had chosen to race in the morning and to come back in the evening despite being so drunk that day he'd tried to drive off an unfinished bridge and needed his sister to guide him back to the course, that Fina's betrayal of Eddy had led to animosity between them growing so powerful that she had insisted on driving that night, that she had pushed Bumblebee to fight that other car for the lead under threat of the button she knew hurt him rather than take the safer option of hanging back and fighting for the lead on a less dangerous stretch of the road. Sure, blame Bumblebee, not any of the drivers that night, none of the organizers, participants or anyone who'd had a choice. He understood. It was easier. You couldn't hurt a car's feelings. You couldn't offend it. You couldn't make it angry with you. And the car wouldn't even try to argue with you about it. At least, that was the theory.
But Bumblebee was beginning to understand why he had to stay. So long as everyone counted themselves blameless, nothing would change. Bumblebee was willing to admit the part he'd played, and he was staying to try and make it right. But he was not willing to pretend he was the only one who'd had a hand in what had happened. Everyone had done something that led to this, even if that something was nothing. He seemed to be the only one who realized that his actions -or lack thereof- had consequences. If he was the only one involved to realize it, then nothing would change in this family.
They would simply blame him, and then go on with their lives, never stopping to take a hard look at themselves and their choices. He didn't need to stay to be their scapegoat. If he did, then he wouldn't really be taking responsibility at all. He would be being as selfish, careless and indifferent as the rest of them. They did not need his silence. They needed his voice.
While he'd been thinking, the woman had gone rummaging in the garage. Now she returned with a crowbar. Bumblebee watched as she raised it with the intent of smashing his side window.
{Do not!} Bumblebee shouted, letting rebuke and fury be heard in his voice if not his words, and that was carried forward by the sound of his engine turning over and roaring with him.
The woman fell back in terror, landing on her seat and dropping the bar. Bumblebee was just as astonished. He hadn't had command over his own engine in days. Belatedly, he realized that everything in him had been knocked loose in the wreck – up to and including the control device under the hood. Maybe it had even been rattled loose earlier and he simply hadn't thought to test it.
Bumblebee's engine stuttered out and fell silent, but he wasn't sure if his control was unreliable or if the surprise of having any had broken his concentration. With the woman cowering on the floor, one hand lifted to cover her mouth, he didn't want to try it again. He'd scared her half to death, no need to take her the rest of the way. Her eyes were wide with fear as she stared at him, her face had turned white when she'd fallen back. She was shaking, and seemed too terrified to even scream.
Bumblebee knew it was likely anything he said would only scare her more, no matter how gently he tried to speak. It was much easier to read hostility than any other intent, especially when you assumed that the thing addressing you was hostile. People only heard sounds of peace when they wanted to. Still, he couldn't find it in himself to just remain still and silent.
{I'm not trying to scare you,} he said quietly, trying to control the harsh buzzing uptick that came at the end of most of his sentences, {I will not hurt you. But I don't want you to hurt me either, I just-}
It was then that she screamed.
"Let me be certain I understand: You left Bumblebee behind?" Ratchet was somewhat less than pleased with Arcee's decision, and he was far from the only one.
"You went out to get him," Raf added, "That's the only reason you went."
"Bumblebee asked me to let him stay," Arcee replied, "He wasn't able to explain why, but I believe it's important to him."
"He said 'please'," Bulkhead put in.
"Oh, he said 'please', did he?" Ratchet scoffed, "Well, I suppose that makes it alright."
"We know where he is now -roughly speaking anyway-, and I fully intend to go back and ask Bee why it's so important that he stay when there isn't a human around," Arcee said, "He may have a perfectly good reason for what he's doing and just not be able to tell us."
"I don't care what his reasons are!" Ratchet erupted, "He was injured in that wreck, and could be further hurt by a lack of medical care. He was in no condition -or position- to make that decision."
"Aw, c'mon, Ratchet," Bulkhead said, "You know better'n any of us what Bee's capable of. It was probably just a scratch, anyway he didn't seem worried about it."
"He isn't a medic," Ratchet retorted.
"Optimus?" Arcee turned to the Prime, who had remained silent up until now, "Did I make the right call or not?"
Optimus was quiet for a moment, then answered, "That, I do not know. But there is no doubt in my mind but that our Scout would overreach his limits if he believed he could make a positive difference. There is no guarantee that he would be cautious with his own life if his concern was for the lives of others."
"What are you thinking, Optimus?" Ratchet asked genuinely, the fierce temper he directed towards the others completely absent when he addressed his leader.
"However he arrived in his present situation, it is obvious that Bumblebee believes he must remain," Optimus said, "It is possible the humans he has been seen with are in some kind of danger. Danger which he thinks he can protect them from on his own, without involving his fellow Autobots."
"And you think he's got enough sense not to get in over his head?" Ratchet inquired patiently.
"I am uncertain," Optimus replied, "But our Scout clearly has information we do not, and I believe he is attempting -to the best of his ability- to do the right thing."
"Be that as it may, Optimus," Ratchet said, "Remember that one of our Scout's attempts to 'do the right thing' landed him in the clutches of Megatron, costing him his voice and nearly his life."
"I have not forgotten," Optimus assured him calmly, "and I am certain that Bumblebee has not forgotten either. But I know also that it is not like him to make the same mistake twice."
"Are you completely out of your mind!?" the man whom Bumblebee had finally come to know as Larry was pacing agitatedly in front of the Scout, looking just short of tearing his own hair out, "Do you have any idea what you've just done!?"
{Do you?} Bumblebee returned evenly, but Larry didn't even pretend to try and understand.
"Let me explain something to you about MECH: they believe that knowledge is power. That's why none of us have tried to reveal the existence of your kind, even though we have perfect proof."
Bumblebee let that pass without asking. It wouldn't do any good to ask, even had Larry understood him. Besides, if they could down Bee himself and steal his T-Cog, surely that wasn't the only thing they were capable of. Perhaps he was not their only victim.
"I obtained permission to acquire you under the strict understanding that no one would ever find out what you really are. That's why we chose you, not just any Autobot but the one who can't talk. But now you've gone and done it. Bad enough that Fina thought you were alive, but now you've got Rick and Vera thinking it too. Do you have any idea what MECH will do to me... to you... to both of us!?... if they find out?" here he finally paused for breath, panting slightly in his dismay.
{Maybe you should have thought of that before you kidnapped an Autobot.}
"I thought we had an understanding," Larry sighed finally, "I didn't want to hurt you."
{And yet, you installed a button for doing just that. I wonder why I'm having trouble believing you.}
"This is no time for gloating. You're in trouble. And so am I, if I can't explain to my wife and children why their new car can talk... if you call that talking."
{Who's gloating?}
Larry sighed wearily, pinching the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger, "This is not how I wanted my holiday season to go at all."
{You?} Bumblebee scoffed, {Well how do you think I feel about it?}
This time Larry ignored him. He left the garage, switching off the light when he went.
Once he was gone, probably to come up with some explanation that Vera and/or Rick would believe about what their new car was, Bumblebee took the opportunity to run a test for himself.
He'd started his engine once, maybe he could do it again.
Bumblebee had no intention of leaving, at least not yet, but he wanted his own strength back under his control, especially if -as Larry feared- he was going to be attracting the wrath of MECH.