Online.
Static.
Clearing.
Gray floor, gray walls. Rather monotone. Oh, look, a light! Red? Usually not a good sign. Let's see, what else? Ah, stupid visual feed, work! By the Allspark, there we go!
As his vision cleared, the mech noted the finer details of his surroundings. He was lying in a large, square cell, of which the three seemingly open sides were blocked by a near-invisible energy barrier. He reached out to touch the closest one.
"PRIMUS!"
The mech bolted upright, cradling singed digits close to his chassis.
"Never doing that again! That hurt!"
Crackling static – not from him – alerted the mech to another presence. In one corner of the cell is a speaker and video camera. Optics narrowing, the mech rises and approaches the devices.
"Hello?"
{Good, you're awake! Standby for the Captain!}
Not like I can go anywhere.
Then, a whole other room, filled with humans and machines, appeared before the mech's optics.
"What the…"
{It's all pretty self-explanatory, and honestly, I don't want to go into detail. I am, however, much more interested in what your kind are doing back here, Autobot.}
Bumblebee forced himself to stand still as his optics lowered to take in the humans closest to his cell. Three men – two security types and a scientist – stood at attention behind a woman sitting at the center console. Pale skin stood out against a dark, sharp suit and eyes, and short, black hair with silver highlights. She appeared to be somewhere in her forties or fifties.
"And you are?"
{Jane Doe.}
Bumblebee raised an optical ridge.
"Why do I have the feeling that isn't actually your name?"
{Alias or not, we don't need to know each other personally for this relationship to work.}
"Considering I'm pretty sure I know who you are, and you know that I know, I'd say we're far past personal. Your group left quite the nasty little impression the few times we swapped unpleasantries."
Jane Doe smirked.
{Hostility towards the continued existence of MECH is duly noted, Autobot.}
Bumblebee continued to glare at the human as she took out a clipboard and pen.
{Before we get started, would you be willing to give us your name?}
No response.
Jane Doe sighed and shook her head.
{I suppose we'll continue to call you Autobot, then. Thank goodness your buddy is a Decepticon, or else this would have proven to be annoying. Which reminds me…}
She places her clipboard and pen down and leans forward, resting her elbows on the console and head on top of her interlaced fingers, staring intently at Bumblebee, searching for a reaction.
{Based on my research thus far, Autobots and Decepticons are enemies, but when my men found you, well, let's just say they were shocked you weren't trying to kill each other, especially when you were one of the Autobots that came to our planet years ago. I can only assume your respective factions came to some sort of accord?}
Bumblebee blanked.
What was he supposed to do?
Giving his helm a little shake, the only thing that matters at that moment comes to mind.
"Where is he?"
Jane Doe's smirk remains, unsettling Bumblebee, but he refuses to be put-off. Not until he sees Thunderhoof, at least. He needs to know if his fellow Cybertronian is alright. The human flips a switch and presses a button. A few seconds later, the barrier to Bumblebee's left is dissipating, and the moment he sees cobalt blue armor, he doesn't think. He rushes in and kneels beside the unconscious Thunderhoof, gently grabbing him by his shoulders and looking him over.
{In case you're wondering, we were careful when it came to your friend's transportation.}
Bumblebee casts a quick glare over his shoulder.
Thunderhoof is starting to move on his own, much to Bumblebee's relief.
"Bless the Allspark, you're still…"
In his haste to check on Thunderhoof, Bumblebee forgot the cardinal rule.
"Don't. Touch. The antlers."
His wrist was caught in an iron grip and crushed.
"S…Sorry, I forgot!"
Thunderhoof grumbled something that Bumblebee, despite his close proximity, couldn't make out. He is released from the tight hold and rubs his wrist, keeping a close optic on Thunderhoof as he slowly but surely comes to his senses.
"Scrap, what happened?" Thunderhoof asked.
"Scrap exactly," Bumblebee replied, helping Thunderhoof to sit up. "I'm just glad that you're alright, though you have seen better days."
Thunderhoof blinks and looks down. His chassis is still charred, and some of the cracks that were sealed have reopened. There are no signs of Energon leakage.
"Eh, I've had worse," Thunderhoof shrugs, as if it's no big deal.
"That's not making me feel better!" Bumblebee snapped.
"Ain't tryin' to make ya feel better. Just tellin' the truth."
Thunderhoof vented and averted his gaze.
"Don't know why I bother with the way yous Autobots work."
Bumblebee didn't retort. He wasn't in the mood to start an argument with Thunderhoof, especially in front of MECH, who were suspiciously quiet while the two reacclimated to each other's presence.
"Sorry, Thunderhoof, but I'm beyond stressed right now, and the only thing I can think of doing is, for lack of a better term, fussing over you," Bumblebee whispered, gently pressing his servo to the Ex-Con's damaged chassis. "If you want to keep being honest, then how are you feeling?"
Thunderhoof hesitated. He looked from Bumblebee to his servo and back again. Rumbling signals him contemplating something.
"As fine as I can be, I suppose," Thunderhoof answered.
"Good, that's good," Bumblebee vented, allowing the smallest of smiles to adorn his faceplate.
{Would you two like some privacy?}
Bumblebee completely forgot about the humans for a moment there. He accidently shoved Thunderhoof away, eliciting a pained grunt. The yellow and black mech stood and turned on his heel, glaring down at the humans.
"What?"
{We will continue this at a later date. I doubt you'll be cooperative with your priorities currently elsewhere.}
Before Bumblebee could speak, Jane Doe disabled – or enabled; Bumblebee isn't going to bother figuring that one out – whatever blocked their view of the humans.
"I… She just… What just happened?"
"Did yous have to push me?" Thunderhoof asked, ignoring his cell-mate's conundrum in favor of himself.
Bumblebee vented, shook his helm, and turned back to Thunderhoof.
"It's not like I did it on purpose," Bumblebee muttered, taking a seat next to the Ex-Con.
Thunderhoof just huffed.
"So, these the humans yous were worried about?"
Bumblebee wrapped his arms around his legs and hugged them close to his chassis.
"Yeah…"
"Swell."
That night turns out not to be a peaceful one. It is eerily quiet, and neither mech can recharge comfortably: Thunderhoof, because of his pain, and Bumblebee…
The Autobot hasn't budged an inch since they settled down hours ago. Thunderhoof could only assume that he's deep in thought, which wouldn't be much of a stretch since the humans that caught them are from Bumblebee's past.
By the stars, if the others saw me now, they'd never let me live this down!
Thunderhoof inadvertently, audibly chuckled at the thought.
"Something funny?" Bumblebee asked.
"Nah, just thinkin' about the other 'Cons."
Thunderhoof grimaced when he rotated his injured hoof.
"Scrap. Can't heal fast enough."
"Maybe if you stayed put like you were supposed to…" Bumblebee started.
"Then the bitlits would've been buried under a pile of rocks," Thunderhoof interrupted pointedly. "And who knows how long it would've taken yous to find 'em."
"You're underestimating the Rescue Team."
"Did I mention anything that remotely suggests I underestimate them?"
Bumblebee didn't answer, preoccupied with sulking. Thunderhoof scoffs and rolls his optics, then turns to his injured hoof. On the outside, everything looks fine, but in the space between plating and protoform, things are still healing on a microscopic level. With the amount of stress Thunderhoof has put on it, the hoof has taken longer than estimated to fully recover.
Deducing that he can not do anything about his hoof until after they escape, Thunderhoof brings attention to his chassis. From what he can see, sparse scorch marks and small cracks don't stretch any further than the edges of his armor. Thunderhoof vents a sigh of relief and reaches up to rub his chassis. He restrains himself from making any sort of noise when feeling the point of impact, where the cracks are wider, deeper, and burn like the Pit.
"Thunderhoof, stop touching your injury," Bumblebee ordered, finally breaking away from his thousand-yard stare to look at his companion. "You're just going to aggravate it, and even someone like me who has almost no medical training knows that that isn't a good idea."
"I don't need yous policin' my every move," Thunderhoof grumbled, though he did stop rubbing and rested his servo in his lap. "I already have enough to deal with."
"Aside from the past couple weeks, what else is there?"
"Anything and everything involving Steeljaw."
"Hmm… Yeah, fair point. Honestly, I'm surprised you're holding it together this well. You haven't had a violent outburst once."
"Hah! Yous are actin' like I have a choice!"
"What do you mean by that?"
"'Cause if I did act out – if any one of us 'Cons steps a little out of line – yous Autobots would see that as a perfect opportunity to toss us into stasis, permanently."
"Wait, you think I'll… Thunderhoof, I wouldn't do that! Sure, I may have a few years ago…"
"It ain't you we're worried about! It's every other Autobot that scares us!"
Bumblebee's optics dilate. He wasn't expecting that to be Thunderhoof's response. He certainly wasn't expecting to pick up on waves of distress and fear, though he wasn't at all surprised that the Ex-Con was trying to hide behind anger and frustration.
"I don't want to admit it, none of us do, but someone had to say somethin' at some point, and no better time than right now, huh?" Thunderhoof huffed, grimly smiling.
"I…I'm sorry, Thunderhoof, but if you had a problem, why didn't you say anything to me?" Bumblebee asked, slumping back against the wall. "If you reasoned that I would be the only Autobot to hear you out, then…"
He circulated his vents and rubbed his temples.
"Does Steeljaw know?"
"'Course he does," Thunderhoof scoffs. "It's Steeljaw, for Pits' sake."
"Don't you and Phantomjaw always tease him for being an idiot?" Bumblebee asked, knowing he's getting somewhat off-topic, but anything to ease Thunderhoof's nerves.
Thankfully, it works. Thunderhoof visibly relaxes, his stiff posture loosening, and laughs.
"Yeah, we do. Don't think anythin' entertains us more than that! Well, 'cept maybe all the trouble Underbite gets into."
The mechs continue the conversation and start many others throughout the night, keeping each other in mostly good spirits.
Sometime around dawn Thunderhoof falls asleep, Bumblebee quickly following suit.
{Good day, gentlemen.}
When the mechs are awoken, they do so unhappily.
"I forgot we're still here," Bumblebee muttered, sitting up.
"The one time I wish I was in stasis," Thunderhoof lamented, getting a chuckle from Bumblebee.
On the other side of the viewing window, Jane Doe is back and has once again taken residency in the same chair at the same panel. She even looks the same, except for her outfit, which is only different in terms of color.
{I hope you don't mind if I call you that?}
"Whatever you want," Bumblebee dismissed tiredly.
{Very well. Before we start, are you the designated speaker, Autobot? Will your friend be adding his two cents as well, or will you be making decisions on his behalf?}
The two mechs share an uneasy look with each other.
"Why do you ask?" Bumblebee inquired.
{My predecessor wasn't known for his hospitality, which is an insincerity that I am willing to rectify. I am merely offering an olive branch in return for your cooperation today.}
Bumblebee tensed at the mention of Silas, but by the Primes if he wasn't curious.
"What do you want?"
{Nothing too intrusive. Well, for you, anyway. Your friend? Not so much. You see…}
Jane Doe stops herself. She is both surprised yet unsurprised that the Autobot instantly placed himself in front of the Decepticon, intending to protect him. In her mind, it isn't entirely unreasonable, though still annoying. She rubs her temples and sighs.
{Right, it seems both of us have made a miscalculation. Perhaps you will calm down so that I may explain?}
Bumblebee didn't budge an inch.
{Enough beating around the bush, I suppose. I'll just get right to it.}
Jane Doe takes a moment to skim the papers in front of her before continuing.
{In exchange for your complete and absolute submission to any and all tests we have planned for you, Autobot, I will employ our finest engineers and mechanics to take care of your friend.}
.
.
.
.
.
"Are you insane? Do you really think I will allow any of you anywhere near him?" Bumblebee snapped, temper flaring.
{I don't know the basis for your "relationship", but I am promising you that we won't harm your companion while he is recuperating. All I ask for in return is your "help" in our studies.}
Bumblebee clenched his fists. Thunderhoof knew that he didn't want to submit to the humans, but as an Autobot, couldn't ignore a fellow Cybertronian in need.
At this rate, he's going to take forever! Might as well make the decision…
A sharp, burning sensation pulses from his chassis. Thunderhoof hisses and curls in on himself, his hoof pain paling in comparison to the erratic blaze of his spark. His entire frame felt like it was burning from the inside-out.
Through the suffocating haze, he barely registers Bumblebee coming to his aid.
Thunderhoof doesn't even remember falling into recharge. He comes online, still feeling warm, with a major helm ache to boot.
"Thunderhoof?"
The Ex-Con looks up into clearly worried blue optics. Yet, a spark of relief is present.
"What happened this time?" Thunderhoof rasped and tried to sit up.
"Hey, stay down, rest!" Bumblebee chastised, gently guiding Thunderhoof to lean on him. "No one really knows, but the humans thought you had a heart… I mean, spark attack."
"I didn't."
"I'm not saying I agree with them. Truth be told, I have no idea. I'm just reiterating what they assumed."
Thunderhoof snorted. Remaining silent, he looked Bumblebee over. While his vision isn't at a hundred percent, he can still see the lack of any damage to the Autobot.
As if reading his processor…
"I told them I wouldn't be going anywhere. I wasn't about to leave you behind with a group of strangers in your state," Bumblebee explained.
"And they let you?" Thunderhoof questioned.
"Yeah… This MECH isn't like the one from before, which, personally, is kind of unsettling."
"An old frame with a new paint job is basically what yous are saying."
Bumblebee chuckled.
"I guess that's one way to see it."
He curls around Thunderhoof as best he can and leans back, the wall taking their combined weight.
Thunderhoof closes his optics, relishing in the warmth and protection – another thing on a long list of things he will never admit to publicly – that is being provided. He listens to a healthy, beating spark as his processor replays memories of times equally as frustrating, in more pleasant settings, with a mech he never thought he would have ever grown quite so attached to.
