Late that night, long after Rick had gone to bed, Larry returned with a lawn chair and a beer. The garage was closed now, and its heater was running. Larry sat his chair in a fraction of the space left by the SUV, in full view of Bumblebee's side mirror. Though he opened the beer, Larry didn't take a sip from it, he just sat and held it for awhile. Minutes passed before he moved or spoke.
"I'm sorry," he said finally, turning to avoid looking right at Bee, "I shouldn't have yelled at you. You don't know MECH like I do, and couldn't have understood the danger you were putting my family in by revealing any part of what you are to them. I'd say you were only trying to protect yourself, but I guess we both know that most of what you've done these past few days had nothing to do with helping yourself. From what Rick and Fina have said, I know you did what you could to protect them. Not that I'm not grateful -I am, more than you could ever know- but what I don't get is why."
Bumblebee made no attempt to speak to the man, he wouldn't have understood it anyway, not even if Bee had spoken in English.
"I wish I could let you go," Larry paused, staring at the label on his beer bottle, "Actually, I almost wish I'd never gotten hold of you in the first place. Except that, thinking about what would've happened to Rick on that bridge, or Fina in the race, if you hadn't been there... I can't be sorry. Because, if not for you, I think one or both of my kids would be dead now. And it's because of you that I finally have the opportunity to make a difference in Rick's life again. You don't know what it's been like. Before this, he and I would never have done a project together. Hell, he barely even spoke to me on a good day."
Larry leaned down and set the beer on the concrete floor. He straightened, still sitting so that he wasn't looking at Bumblebee, but at the closed garage door ahead of him instead.
"It would take all night to recount the mistakes I've made," Larry said, "And a lifetime to tell what a fool I've been all these years. I'd given up any hope of being able to get my kids to listen to me. And excused myself by saying they were teenagers. And teenagers never listen to their parents anyway, and always make stupid, dangerous decisions that can ruin their lives forever. I'm guilty of apathy about the fate of my own children. Of worrying more about not doing any harm to their independence or curtailing their personal sense of freedom than I was about what actually happened to them. No, it's worse than that."
Larry picked up the beer, but still didn't drink from it, "I was so afraid of them not liking me that I lost their respect in the process. I was worried about how they felt about me, instead of who they were becoming. What kind of parent does that? What kind of person thinks about themselves and how people feel about them before they consider the consequences to others?" he put the beer down again.
Despite the fact that he was able, Bumblebee didn't so much as twitch his mirror in response. Not out of fear of what Larry might do to him, but concern that the man was taking a good, hard look at himself and would pounce on any chance of distracting himself from having to see what he didn't want to. The truth about what he'd done, and who he'd allowed himself to become.
Many people excused themselves by saying that they hadn't done anything, which worked so long as they didn't hold up a mirror and realize that inaction was sometimes more disastrous and damaging in the end than any action could have been. Because they had done nothing, they counted themselves guiltless. But Larry was looking at himself, and seeing what doing nothing had caused.
Bumblebee knew the consequences of inaction only too well. When Megatron had first turned to darkness, those around him had refused to see it, had done nothing. Perhaps nothing could have prevented Megatron's descent, but certainly someone could have stopped him from rising to power if only they hadn't told themselves it was none of their business what he said or did.
It was always easy to say it took two to make an argument, but when that argument was over freedom or tyranny, life or destruction, it was no longer reasonable to stay out of it. A part of friendship and family was tolerance for personal opinions, likes and dislikes, that was true. But the hard part, the part most people didn't want to see, was that this gift of friendship came with responsibility. A responsibility to tell your friend or family member if they were straying from the light and into darkness. And that was never easy, particularly for humans, whose emotions tended to run high and color their perception until they became aggressive and hurtful on both sides. The risk was driving the person further into darkness with a wrong word, or breaking the relationship beyond repair. But doing nothing could do something far worse if they lost their life or soul by your silence.
How many wars could have been stopped before they started? How much murder and mayhem could have been prevented? How much of the sorrow in the universe could have been avoided by friends and family members being brave enough to risk their place in the heart of someone they loved by telling them the truth about the path they were on? By not turning a blind eye to the things which were done to others and those around them? By offering forgiveness for wrongs done rather than pretending those things had not happened in the first place?
Bumblebee certainly didn't know, and he knew his own judgment was often bad when it came to deciding whether he should intervene or be silent and let those close to him figure out for themselves what they believed in and who they would choose to be. He knew better than anyone that words were often overrated. Sometimes silence did what words never could. But how was one to know when was the time for silence and when was the time to speak out?
"I can't let you go," Larry said after a lengthy pause, "For a lot of reasons. Not the least of which is that, for the first time in years... maybe ever... Rick and I are working on something together. More importantly, how would I explain to MECH that I 'lost' an Autobot I was supposed to have complete control over? Do you have any idea what they would do to me, to my family, if they thought I just... let you go?"
His tone had changed, and Bumblebee could hear he was now trying to justify his actions to himself again. In truth, Bee didn't know what MECH would do, but he assumed it would be bad. However selfish Larry's other reasons might be, Bee could understand and accept the desire for self preservation, and for protecting his family who -while not innocent in a lot of ways- had no part in Bee's being here in the first place and so should not have to suffer for something Larry had done.
Larry stood up, hesitated, then patted Bee, "I'm sorry. I don't know what else I can do from here."
Then he left, turning off the light and leaving both the beer and the lawn chair behind.
Bumblebee sat still in the dark, wishing that he could point out to Larry that he himself had done many things when he was supposedly rendered helpless, unable to so much as control his own four wheels. You could always do something. And, as an Autobot, if that something helped someone else, especially trying to save a human life, Bumblebee had felt obligated to at least try.
Just being scared was no excuse for not at least trying to do the right thing.
The location of the poster Raf had tracked down was a surprise to both Raf and Ratchet. The property was just a couple of acres, most of which were taken up by the rise and fall of the land. The driveway swept steeply downward to a concrete area in front of an enormous garage. The land swept upward from there and also from the edge of the road to place the house on a smallish hill. House, it was a mansion. Raf had never seen a private home so large, it looked big enough to be a hotel. Stone steps led upwards from the side of the garage and concrete apron up to the covered porch.
On the apron were two expensive vehicles. The SUV was almost as large as Bulkhead in his vehicle mode, a big black monster of a car. Beside it, almost incongruous in the night, sat a sleek silver Jaguar. Both looked out of place in front of such a large garage rather than inside it in the deep, snow drenched night. But they looked even stranger taken together because the only thing they had in common was the tremendous expense one would have to go to in order to acquire either one of them.
The night was late, but the brilliant moon and clear sky reflected off the snow to make it seem almost as bright as day, revealing that the mansion lights were all out, as one would expect at this hour.
After quietly circling the block a few times, Ratchet gingerly descended the steep driveway, his wheels slipping slightly on the iced concrete, making Raf wonder how anyone could get in and out. He supposed that might be what the SUV was for; it looked capable of driving over anything.
The boy and the Autobot did not have to talk it over to guess that Bumblebee might be in the closed garage. While Ratchet sat waiting, Raf climbed out and ran around to the side door. To his surprise and relief, someone had left it unlocked. He checked over his shoulder, feeling suddenly like the trespasser he was. He quickly shrugged it off. He wasn't breaking and entering, he was trying to find his kidnapped friend. If anyone wanted to punish him for that, he would accept it.
The dark garage felt very open and airy and -for a moment- empty. As Raf's eyes adjusted to the dimness, using the light from the moon that streamed through the windows on the garage door, he spotted what he momentarily took to be another expensive car. But the sense that tells you when you walk into an empty room told him that there was a presence here, and he knew who it was.
"Bumblebee!" he stage whispered, nervous as his call was followed by a lengthy silence, thinking perhaps he was mistaken after all.
But Bumblebee it was, and he responded with surprise and evident distress, {Raf? Raf, what are you doing here? How did you get here? Is anyone with you? You shouldn't be here!}
"Easy, Bee, easy," Raf hurried across the garage, almost tripping over a paint can lid in his rush to get to Bee's side, "It's okay. I'm here with Ratchet."
He touched a hand to Bumblebee's side door briefly, and was reassured by the warmth he felt beneath the cold metal, which he realized not everyone could feel, but knew was the pulse of life concealed beneath the vehicular disguise. He knew that, despite his obvious agitation, Bumblebee was not unhappy to see him, for the presence he sensed was welcoming and familiar.
"Hang on a sec', while I get the garage door open to let Ratchet in," Raf said, patting Bee once before moving away to try and find the controls for the garage door.
The garage door wasn't hard to figure out. Less than a minute later, Ratchet had entered the garage and Raf had closed it. Bumblebee's side mirror twitched in acknowledgment of Ratchet when he entered, but otherwise the Scout didn't move.
"I expected to find you in worse shape," Ratchet remarked dryly.
{You shouldn't be here,} Bumblebee replied, his intonation that of a subordinate issuing warning, rather than an equal or superior offering a rebuke.
"Neither should you," Raf said, "Bee, you can leave. Why stay here?"
{It's complicated,} Bee told him.
"We have time," Ratchet replied.
"All night," Raf put in.
Bumblebee sighed, and began at the beginning.