8. The Regret

Wheeljack admittedly had not spent much time outside the base to take in the surrounding panorama, usually opting to be on the move to clear his processor. It was what he used to do on Cybertron, not having anything in the way of sweeping vistas or natural wonders to take in. Cybertron was loud, chaotic, bright and always in motion, but it was home, even if one was constantly under threat of bombardment. When you're at war, you don't have time to take in the majesty of overdeveloped urbanized sprawl anyway, so staying on the move was a learned comfort Wheeljack had brought with him to Earth. The organic wilderness was much easier on the optics anyway.

Now, he didn't feel like moving, or doing much of anything really, so he stood alone to go through his thoughts without distraction. The absence of light pollution in this region afforded a clear view of the stars that surrounded this planet, something of which had been missing on Cybertron for a very long time. There were no stars there, only an inky black above them that cloaked the planet in a perpetual darkness. There was a sun of course—two suns to be more precise; a binary star. Cybertron orbited it alone out in the darkness, but it was far enough that it did little in the way of light and heat. The planet itself generated warmth enough, so the extreme temperatures that far out in space did not bother them.

That wasn't why Wheeljack was standing out there alone in the pitch-black with his arms folded against his front. He didn't really understand why he was shielding himself, but needless to say he had a lot to think about. For one thing, he should probably stop putting off talking to Ratchet about why his spark kept throbbing with pain. He was probably not as concerned about it as he should have been.

The last cycles had been uncomfortably difficult, finding him looking for ways to stay out of the infirmary so that he didn't have to face Allison. He wasn't sure why he was avoiding her, because it wasn't born out of anger, revulsion, or any other negative emotions he knew she was probably assuming to be driving him. It was far more mundane than that, the truth falling squarely in the realm of guilt; disappointment in himself and how much he had screwed up, and how much that screw-up had nearly offlined her permanently. She should be furious with him.

Wheeljack knew he should have never approached her that night when she came to find him. He should have stayed hidden, maybe finding some way to make a noise or create some sort of distraction to scare her off. For some reason impulse had gotten in the way and he'd let his guard down, only because he knew her. It was like she tugged at him, and any better sense toward survival and secrecy was forgotten.

Even then, it could have been a simple encounter. Seeing as she had already met him, and presumably remembered enough about him that introductions weren't needed. They could move on to whatever necessary pleasantries Allison seemed to want, because she'd clearly sought him out for a reason. It never crossed Wheeljack's thoughts that the human child he met so many years ago would be so affected by the encounter that she would want to see him again.

That was a lie, and Wheeljack knew that was a lie. He'd watched from a distance, for a very long time in the span of her life and saw what happened to her. As much as he may have wanted to intervene, he knew he could not. She did not belong in his world, and he did not belong in hers. When she told him through a chemically induced fog of laughter—he'd gotten concerned that something was really wrong with her until she started talking—that she waited for him all those years, he knew without a doubt that something had to be wrong with her. Pit, he wasn't that interesting, was he?

Wheeljack toiled around with that knowledge rattling around in his processor for the remainder of the time she spent in Ratchet's care, taking turns with the old medic to make sure she stayed alive. He wasn't stupid and knew it probably didn't escape her notice that he conveniently was never there when she was awake. He just wasn't sure he could bear to face her disappointment in him.

Disappointment, and probably hatred at this point, considering what had transpired to bring her into the Autobot base in the first place. The irony was, as much as he tried to keep her at a distance so that she would be safe, it was his actions—or inaction—that landed her on one of Ratchet's operating berths, and needless to say the medic was not pleased with him. Wheeljack wasn't pleased with himself either. Through his negligence, he exposed more of their existence than he ever wanted to, not to mention somehow being careless enough to allow Bumblebee to find out.

Wheeljack had to focus, and figure out what had caused the energon cube to behave the way it did, nearly killing a human in the process. The results of such an encounter were unprecedented, somehow causing Allison to absorb the energy like a sponge. He had to solve that puzzle as soon as possible, because there was no telling what sort of consequences there would be later. At least for now, they managed to remove it from her, so that was a start.

There was a larger problem now. That singular event alone had completely ruined Wheeljack's intentions of just having a quick chat and disappearing forever. Now, she was more entangled with the Autobots than he ever intended, and what was worse he wasn't sure he was as angry about that as he should be.

There was a reason Wheeljack had continued to check in on Allison for some time. It wasn't just to make sure she didn't cause any trouble and put the Autobots at risk. He obviously knew she'd told everyone who would listen to her about their little encounter, but no one had believed her. He hadn't just kept watch to ensure those around her continued that disbelief, but he'd also stuck around for more personal reasons. Curiosity, for sure, but unfortunately she'd made more of an impression on him than she probably thought, and curse Primus he'd started to care. Maybe the loneliness and isolation had finally gotten him to his breaking point, but he'd never admit that to anyone. Eventually he knew he had to pull away because as she got older it became harder to evade her. Clearly, she would have recognized him even in his alt-mode.

The detachment would be easier for her. That was at least what Wheeljack told himself, in order to justify what she probably perceived to be cold indifference. The reality was, the sooner she was home and away from any danger, the better. He was too busy stewing in his own anger at himself to be overly upset when Ratchet informed him that Bumblebee found out about Allison's presence on the Ark. The small scout was sneaky, which was something they should have accounted for. Admittedly, Wheeljack was even surprised that Bumblebee took Allison out to the surrounding area, and that it had been Ratchet's suggestion. If Ratchet, of all mechs, was loosening up, then surely Wheeljack could too.

Until Bumblebee very urgently alerted them to the Decepticon signal that had entered the Earth's solar system. Allison didn't know, and she couldn't know, which was why getting her home was of the utmost importance. The Decepticons were looking for them, so her being amongst them was an unnecessary hazard to her life. They needed to be focused on reinforcing their defenses and protecting the Ark.

When they finally returned far later than they should have, Wheeljack had been furious. Even more furious at Ratchet for allowing them to leave in the first place despite his earlier position, but Bumblebee had talked him off a proverbial cliff. With the Decepticons approaching it was far too dangerous. Looking back he wasn't sure why he'd gotten so incensed to begin with, though the hammering ache in his spark chamber certainly made his temper far more volatile. Logically the Decepticon presence was not an immediate threat. Even if their ship was still at full capacity, it would still take their FTL thrusters time to arrive. Days, even. That was assuming this planet was their destination at all.

It was no coincidence. They knew the Autobots were here. The Decepticons were finally coming to finish what they failed to do on Cybertron.

Wheeljack spent the entire journey to return Allison home hypothesizing how, and it occurred to him that unfortunately he was probably at fault for the Decepticons wandering in their direction too. It was likely the energon surge had attracted their notice, and where there was energon, there was going to be Cybertronians. He could at least mull over that miserable distraction and not have to think about Allison's attempts at conversation. Her attempts were… dubious (he still could not figure out why she brought up his voice, again), because he suspected she was trying to get something from him, but he couldn't give her what she was looking for.

The rest of their time together was silent after that, and Wheeljack reasoned it was probably for the best. There were no lingering traces of energon on her, so with Allison as far away from the Ark as possible, she wasn't in danger. He hoped at any rate. There was really no telling what would happen if the Decepticons decided to force the Autobots out of hiding. Optimus would not allow this planet to suffer the same fate as Cybertron, and the news of the Decepticon approach was sent to him immediately after their departure.

Bumblebee was disappointed in him, so when Wheeljack returned back to the Ark he wasn't in the mood to go back inside immediately, which was a special kind of annoyance. All he wanted to do was collapse onto his berth and recharge, but he knew his racing thoughts would keep him from that. So instead he picked his way down the wooded path alone to try and sort through some of said thoughts and compartmentalize. He had a mountain of work to do to figure out what was going on, and a lot of it couldn't wait. But, he was not going to make the best judgments while recharge deprived, which was saying a lot considering the last few days had been nothing but bad decisions.

Wheeljack also felt a distinct sense of... emptiness now that Allison was gone (while also realizing the literal irony of such a feeling considering how upset she had been with the concept of him transporting her. He didn't pretend to understand it.) He tried to banish the thoughts that something incredibly important was missing now, no matter how upsetting it might be. Despite how much he tried to push her away, he didn't want to. He hadn't enjoyed how silent she was the entire way home, only speaking up to tell him exactly where to go once they reached the city. He partially took responsibility for such an awkward journey, because he didn't speak either. He knew after her initial attempt at light conversation didn't go the way she expected, she'd completely shut down. Once he opened the door she left without saying a word, disappearing into her building without looking back.

Lingering for only a few moments, Wheeljack eventually left. He had plenty of time to think about the consequences of his actions on the way back to the Ark.

The first thing he probably needed to accomplish was speaking to Ratchet about his spark. All of this was moot if he completely shut down for good anyway. Then he desperately needed a recharge, so that he could finally examine that energon cube and figure out what actually happened. Then after that, he'd probably need to start thinking about how they were going to acquire energon in the future, as he would not put it past Allison to try and find him again. It was also going to get exceedingly more dangerous if the Decepticons were on alert.

Eventually Wheeljack knew he could not put off speaking to Ratchet any longer, so he made his way back to the Ark. He supposed that assuming he wouldn't run into any further roadblocks was too much to ask, because Bumblebee accosted him immediately.

"What happened?" The younger Autobot seemed agitated now, though Wheeljack couldn't blame him considering the knowledge that the Decepticons were literally on their way to blow them to pieces.

"What do you mean? She's home." Wheeljack shrugged, faintly aware of where Bumblebee was going with this but not wanting to entertain it.

"But why are you here?" Bumblebee came down the ramp into the cargo hold, blocking any final possibility of Wheeljack avoiding this conversation. He had a feeling this was coming, considering the incredibly terse conversation they'd had in this very room earlier. He was of the opinion that someone should stay with Allison for her own safety, and for some reason he was deeply invested in the idea that it be Wheeljack. Primus only knew why.

"We've been over this. Sticking around would only put her at risk." Not even his grumbling would deter the scout, because Bumblebee persisted. Wheeljack admired and understood the younger Autobot's concern even if it was terribly misguided and irresponsible. He wasn't looking at the larger picture. Not to mention the fact that Wheeljack had far better uses of his time right now than human-sitting, even if it was a means of avoidance.

"Shouldn't someone at least keep an eye out and make sure?" Bumblebee was not going to let this go, and Wheeljack knew sooner or later they would need to consider it… just not now.

Wheeljack finally found an opening and darted past the angry scout. "She's too smart for that, she'd see me—" He stopped, raising both hands in defeat. "—Besides, my time is better spent figuring out why that happened and making sure the 'Cons don't end up knocking on our door."

Bumblebee followed after Wheeljack's attempts to flee, unconvinced. "But we don't know what the Decepticons saw, or if they tracked that surge to Allison. Wouldn't you rather be sure?"

"Our presence nearby will only draw attention straight to her—" As much as Wheeljack was deeply concerned with that possibility, he knew that an Autobot hovering around her would only draw Decepticon eyes in that direction. It was too risky.

"—Straight to who?" Wheeljack was so focused on getting to his destination and dodging this conversation with Bumblebee that he didn't notice Sideswipe lazily draped over Teletraan-1's console, clearly in the midst of harassing Ratchet. Bumblebee obviously hadn't seen him either, because he tensed, stopping in his tracks.

"No one!" They both somehow managed to say in unison, causing Sideswipe to frown in the most petulant way possible. Wheeljack knew he was going to sniff out what they were being cagey about eventually, but frankly that was a problem for the future him to deal with.

Speaking of not letting things go, he turned back to Bumblebee, growling lowly. "We'll finish discussing this later." He could tell the scout was perturbed, because he stiffened, scowling coldly. "Ratchet, I need you…" Ratchet made a dramatic show of throwing his arms up, huffing loudly, but Wheeljack knew that he was grateful for any excuse to get away from the younger mech making his job incredibly difficult.

"Who doesn't? Between you and the ship I'm not just the medic anymore I'm the scrapping custodian." Ratchet vented air, turning around. "What is it now?"

Wheeljack tapped his chest, not wanting to say out loud what was bothering him but subtly trying to indicate to Ratchet the importance of the issue. It took all of several seconds for the medic to scrutinize him carefully with a brow raised, before finally taking the hint and following Wheeljack's path back to the infirmary. Grumbling over his shoulder, Ratchet left the remaining two Autobots in the room with a very subtle command. "Neither of you touch anything."

Wheeljack could hear Sideswipe whine behind him. "...I would never do that! 'Bee, tell him I'd never do that!"

Bumblebee's silence spoke volumes.

"You're telling me you've had an anomaly with your spark for how long and you didn't think it important to tell me?!" Ratchet's bedside manner was probably one of Wheeljack's favorite things about him, and his grating voice was such a joy while irritated and at his mercy.

"I hardly noticed it," Wheeljack blanched, and if it would have been possible for him to sweat, he would have. The wince in his voice was almost audible when Ratchet plugged the third, and final, diagnostic node against his spark chamber, taking care to be firm enough so that his displeasure at Wheeljack's lack of self-preservation was known.

"Of all the stupid things you've done lately, surprisingly this isn't the stupidest." Ratchet grumbled, pulling around the diagnostic monitor so that Wheeljack could see the read-out of his own spark; his living essence. It unnerved him to watch his very existence reduced down to a moving blip on a monitor. "Physically speaking, your spark is fine. I don't see any anomalies." True enough, the monitor showed the expected pattern of regular electrical impulses one would associate with a spark rhythm. As Wheeljack understood it, it was not so dissimilar to what organics considered a heartbeat .

"If it's not hurting now, maybe you won't notice it." He tapped at the monitor, as if doing so would reveal a secret in hiding. Wheeljack was not illiterate when it came to the electrical patterns and the positron ratios of a healthy spark output, but what he was seeing didn't make sense. It was the fact that there was nothing there. What he was feeling wasn't normal, and he worried there was nothing to see until it was too late.

But the data also didn't lie. All the diagnostic readings and the output/input ratios looked to be within the range he knew he should be. His optics could scan over the code dump interpreting his spark's energy cycle all he wanted, he wasn't seeing anything. Disappointing, but also a relief?

"I have an idea. I could always hook myself up to our mystery energon cube. For science, and all that, and just give myself a little jolt—"

"First of all, that won't be necessary. Second, why would you even think that's possibly a good idea? If what's going on in your spark now doesn't offline you, that certainly would." Ratchet put a hand on his shoulder, and Wheeljack could tell he was trying to make very pointed optic contact with him. Wheeljack was not in the mood, choosing to stare at the ceiling from his prone position on the medical berth. "You've been under a lot of stress lately—for a while."

"Ratchet, are you suggesting I'm overworked? Need a vacation?"

"Take this seriously…" Ratchet mercifully broke the optic contact and returned to staring at the monitor. "You've had the entire weight of our survival pressing down on you, looking for any way possible to keep our energon supplies up while hiding your methods from everyone else because you feel guilty…" Wheeljack was starting to think this was a mistake, because this track of conversation was proving to be more aggravating than he wanted to entertain. An annoyed rattle rocked his frame, but Ratchet didn't notice. "And then you nearly expose our entire existence by almost offlining a human—aha ."

Wheeljack barely heard Ratchet in that moment; had been trying to tune him out actually, until his spark seized in his chest cavity, causing him to nearly jolt upwards on the berth. Ratchet caught him before he thankfully did any further damage, tutting with impatience.

"I had a feeling…" Ratchet muttered, pointing back at the monitor, specifically at a new piece of data that hadn't been there moments before. Within the historical data of Wheeljack's spark pattern, there was a very obvious anomaly that was previously absent. A surge in the regular pulse that created an erratic spike in the visual representation of its energy cycle. "I assume that's what you're talking about." It wasn't so much a question, because Ratchet already knew the answer.

"Yeah, so what is it?" Wheeljack was more interested in the change in the data dump on the monitor, a clear increase in spark output the nanosecond the flare occurred. Just based on numbers, it looked no different than a very brief increase in energy, but physiologically it could speak to other problems that he didn't want to entertain.

"Well, for starters, you're anxious and stressed beyond your limits, and that can have all sorts of negative effects." Seeing that Wheeljack was about to lunge off the berth onto him, Ratchet held up a hand, rolling his optics. He vented air heavily, rubbing at his chevron absently. "But aside from that, I don't know. I've never seen this particular type of surge before. I'll need to do some reading, but one thing I know for certain is you need to find a way to relax."

"Great thanks 'doc. Now is the best time to relax." A thought occurred to Wheeljack, one which didn't surprise him. "Were you tryin' to rile me up on purpose?"

"I was, and it worked." Ratchet disconnected the diagnostic nodes from within Wheeljack's chest and put them away, before gently motioning for him to close his paneling. "There has been quite a bit to process recently, would you agree?"

"Yeah, yeah." Wheeljack sat up, feeling mildly defeated, but at least he had an answer. "Too bad our safety doesn't afford us the luxury of waiting."

"We can talk about coping strategies later, and your incessant need to take responsibility for everyone and everything without letting anyone help you afterward. First, go recharge now. Doctor's orders." Ratchet pointed in the direction of Wheeljack's personal quarters, his authority as the Ark's primary medical officer unquestionable. It helped that Wheeljack was too tired to argue with him. "Everything else about your spark, the housing, couplings, wiring integrity, every other diagnostic reading I see of your core systems is normal."

Stepping off the berth, Wheeljack almost wavered before regaining his balance. Having one's spark poked at always left one with some slight disorientation afterward. "What are you talking about? I let you help me—"

"—And aren't I so lucky. Now go." Wheeljack heard Ratchet begin conversing with Teletraan-1 as he departed, likely to sort through any medical data they had on record to create a number of possible diagnoses. It's what he would have done were the roles reversed.

Wheeljack knew he should have felt somewhat comforted by Ratchet's diagnosis, but he couldn't shake off the uncertainty that it was more serious than he thought.

Bumblebee watched as Wheeljack fled from his responsibilities with Ratchet close on his heels, feeling the anger and annoyance curl up inside his chassis like a flame about to burst. It was the scout's belief that the older bots were being way too cautious, because at this point the cat was out of the bag, as the humans put it.

Having spent far more time in the general vicinity of humans than the other Autobots had taught Bumblebee a great deal about how they behaved. Like Cybertronians, they were social creatures, prone to temperamental flaws and conflict just like they were. Humans were diverse, creative, passionate, and caring on their best days, which is how Bumblebee chose to see them despite all their systemic defects that ultimately corrupted them. Individually, they could be no different than a Cybertronian in many different ways. That endeared them to the scout, which meant that they were worth saving.

One would say that many of Bumblebee's current mannerisms and behavioral tendencies were a form of mimicry, things that he picked up from all his time observing humans going about their lives. Bumblebee wasn't entirely sure that was accurate, though he had definitely learned to recognize a lot of their quirks and tells through body language and creative use of speech. That was how he knew that Allison wasn't telling him the whole truth in the short time he spent with her. As she told Bumblebee the story of the two accounts of her path crossing with Wheeljack's at first he was surprised. He was surprised that Wheeljack had been carrying around such a secret for so long, but it shed light on a great deal of the engineer's behavior for some time. He did not share as much with Allison, because he could read her enough to tell that she was already hurt enough as it was. If he told her that Wheeljack had been watching her for a while after their first encounter (a fact that Wheeljack hadn't actually shared with him, but he wasn't stupid), he didn't think she would handle it very well. That wasn't an assessment of her strength. Far from it actually, considering she was coping with the realities of them remarkably well.

Bumblebee could read between the lines of what Allison was saying to learn a great deal more about what she wasn't saying. She was sad, and disappointed. He could tell that Wheeljack had left a mark on her, and Allison had spent a lot of time thinking about their short time together with rose-tinted glasses. Now Wheeljack was behaving coldly and indifferent, at least to her interpretation of his behavior, and that left her mourning something she never really understood. She wanted him to acknowledge her, but Wheeljack was being stubborn because he thought it was easier. She cared, and he didn't want to admit that he cared too.

That was largely the gist Bumblebee got out of the brief conversation with Wheeljack after him and Allison had returned from their little excursion. What Wheeljack didn't know was that Bumblebee's time watching humans also had the unintended consequence of allowing him to be able to read his own teammates better. The two species truly were more alike than any of them on the Ark would care to admit. That was also how he knew Wheeljack was lying through his battlemask every time he opened his mouth. Wheeljack wasn't cold. He probably had too big a spark for his own good, and the very fact that he kept an eye on Allison long after she thought he was nothing but a figment of her imagination meant that he cared more deeply than he would admit. That's why Bumblebee thought he should be the one to keep an eye on her, because frankly it would probably be more healthy for both of them rather than pretending neither of them existed.

It was so frustrating to him how flippant everyone was with her safety. Wheeljack said it was for her own good: keep her at a safe distance while monitoring her just in case. The odds of a Decepticon being aware of her was slim, at least according to them. But Bumblebee was cautious, less quick to make assumptions. After all, if Wheeljack knew about her, and the Decepticons had been keeping surveillance on them at any point around the time of this mysterious energon surge, Bumblebee saw no reason to imagine it beyond the realm of possibility that they knew about her too. Just because nobody had made a move yet didn't mean something wasn't coming.

That was his worst fear at any rate. Perhaps he was worrying too much, but as the team's optics on the field, it was his job to worry about any potential catastrophes before they happened, and ensure that they didn't. He didn't like the idea of an innocent potentially being preyed upon by a threat that they weren't even aware of.

"Credit for your thoughts 'Bee?" Sideswipe's voice broke Bumblebee from his musings, and he hadn't realized he'd been standing there staring off into space. Sideswipe was still leaning casually on Teletraan-1's console, his expression annoying enough to tell Bumblebee that he was onto them. Of course Sideswipe wasn't going to let their verbal slip go.

"Hmm? Oh, it's nothing. Don't worry about it." Bumblebee turned to walk away, nearly cringing when he heard Sideswipe move to follow him out of the central room. He wanted to be alone, because he had a lot of thinking to do.

"Oooooh no, I know that look on your face, that's the kind of face that says, 'Sideswipe, I got a problem and only you can help me with it.' Don't deny it." Ignoring Sideswipe was a well-practiced exercise, because he had to do it often. The problem was, Sideswipe loathed being ignored, and did everything in his power to try and make it impossible. He was walking behind Bumblebee close enough that the sensor net panels on his back could pick up every intake and vent from him being so in his space.

"Sideswipe, you are a problem. Maybe deal with yourself first before you deal with mine." His back panels flicked with annoyance at the other Autobot being so close, trying to get Sideswipe to take a hint and back off.

"What were you and Wheeljack talking about? We don't have any hers awake yet, so who did you—"

Bumblebee stopped and whirled around, pressing a hand to Sideswipe's front to stop him. "—Sideswipe, it's no one. We weren't talking about anyone so let it go."

"I'm not stupid. You two are hiding something." Sideswipe shrugged dramatically before clapping a hand down on Bumblebee's shoulder hard enough to make the scout stumble. "And I'm going to figure out what it is. Got nothing else to do around here anyway." Unfortunately Sideswipe was right. As blisteringly irresponsible and impulsive as he and his brother were, they were far from stupid. Growing up on Cybertron in the gladiatorial pits taught them a fair amount of street smarts and clever ways to maneuver through life that made them impressively observant and strategically intelligent. This included being doggedly persistent if they smelled something they perceived to be a problem, regardless of its threat level.

"Please don't." Bumblebee wasn't sure how, but he'd somehow made things worse. He faintly wondered if it was worth telling Sideswipe just to get it over with, but he wasn't sure that was a good idea. They were already screwed enough as it was, and having to report to Prime the approaching Decepticon threat was about as much drama as he needed for the day. "You're just going to tell your brother, and I don't need both of you on my aft about things that don't concern you. Now go do something productive, I need to be alone." He hoped that would get across what he needed, and that Sideswipe would not in fact follow him into his personal quarters.

"I'm watching you 'Bee. Like a… hawk … right?" Thankfully, he got the hint, and in fact did not follow him, too busy scratching his helm trying to recall the human turn of phrase Bumblebee taught him a long time ago. That left Bumblebee free to close the door on him, but not without rolling his optics first.

"Sure 'Sides, whatever you say."

Unfortunately, even with the barrier of the door between them, that did not do away with the problem. It was only a matter of time before Sideswipe, and through proximity, Sunstreaker made things so unbearable that they would probably be forced to tell them out of sheer annoyance just to shut them up. That was a problem for another time, because Bumblebee had far more pressing issues working through his processor. Resting his helm against the closed door, he considered how to approach his next move. Surely, as the Decepticon threat grew closer, Wheeljack and Ratchet would see reason and finally agree with him. It was too big of a risk.

Days of monitoring any subspace radio frequencies outside Earth's orbit did not however change anyone's planned course of action. The only thing that changed was Bumblebee's increasing anxiety, listening in on any human communication for any sign of Decepticons lurking around where humans congregated. He knew that Sideswipe was watching him, so he tried in vain to appear to go about his business as usual. Sideswipe was not stupid enough to approach Wheeljack or Ratchet about his suspicions, because that would forfeit any creative opportunity to get into mischief. Rather, he was enjoying being Bumblebee's shadow waiting for the scout to slip up.

Wheeljack had pretty much barricaded himself in his laboratory anyway, so there wasn't any opportunity to even try to get him to have a change of spark. Ratchet gave him a look every time he even skirted around the topic, and that was a fight Bumblebee simply wasn't interested in. He was on his own.

Finally, there was a blip in the mess of static garbage and radio noise around the junk that orbited the planet, trying to be hidden but Bumblebee was too good at what he did to not see it. It was a sensory pulse, not from Earth's surface, but from somewhere outside. It was the same signal he'd seen days ago but stronger, which meant that the Decepticons had finally arrived. He couldn't tell from the trajectory of the scan alone what the Decepticons were looking for, but Bumblebee was struck with the immediate urgency that they would somehow see Allison. Ratchet and Wheeljack thought that had resolved the energon problem, but how could they be sure? Bumblebee still had no idea exactly how it had happened, but he assumed it had something to do with how Wheeljack was managing to produce energon in the first place. That meant, it was untested territory, and Wheeljack couldn't possibly be that stupid. His spark and whatever was going on with him emotionally was clouding him of that fact.

That was why after sending the newest report to Optimus where he and Prowl were securely holed up elsewhere, Bumblebee made an offhand comment to Ratchet at Teletraan-1's console that he was going on patrol. They could shield their own individual energon signatures well enough until one of the 'Cons got close, but Allison could not, and he was done leaving that to chance.

So focused was he on the potential threats from outside, that the Autobots' best scout failed to notice the optics following him from within. Sideswipe smirked to himself as he watched Bumblebee leave. He loved being right, and it seemed only fitting he now investigate exactly what he was right about. Rubbing this one in his face was going to be a joy.

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