Author's Note: Sorry about the wait! I hope that yall continue to enjoy!
It's like a fog, or maybe a tide is more like it. Pulling in and out. When the tide pulls in, he's buried in darkness, unable to think or dream or anything. But when the tides pull back, he can hear snippets of sounds, words spoken, or flashes and images. It was all so jumbled and garbled. Then he's drowning again beneath the waves, and it takes all of the things he could see and hear above the water gets washed away once more.
The water pulls back.
"...chet? Is Sam going to be..."
"..arks power... in his cells..."
"...do with it..?"
"...power ran out of its chassis... to dispose of it..."
"To NEST?"
"Where did it come from..."
"Allspark...must have been Sam..."
"...he does still have it..."
"Lord Prime... wrong with the mech... low level readings..."
"...how is that possible..?"
"Check... spark!"
A bright blue light, like the sun flaring, almost burning his eyes from his head, and doing nothing good for his growing headache. He rasps out a gasp of pain, and maybe a whine when a shadow passes over him, blocking out the light. He doesn't have the strength to move, to even consider it. He's thankful that someone is looking out for him.
"Primus! He has a spa..."
"It's the All...has to be..."
Back under the waves he goes. It's a cold and empty darkness. Tendrils of wisping white threads flow from his like roots from a tree, but they vanish into the darkness around him, swallowed whole.
The water pulls away once more.
Something holds him, wrapping around his entire body and lifting him up into the air. The night is warm, almost stifling so, when before it was just a bit chilled. Maybe it's him. Burning too hot. He is pressed closed to something even warmer. And it's equal parts comforting and painful. His bleary eyes open to see bright yellow, almost like the sun, beneath a shade of gray darkness.
A few soft clicks and then a voice, gentle but pained, "I have you, Sam. Optimus and I... we have you."
"Don't speak, Bumblebee," a snap from a harsher voice. Familiar. He just... he just heard it... recently. "Your vocalizer is damaged again. And I don't have to parts to repair it. So no speaking. Radio only."
A pause, then, "I'm sorry, Ratchet. I just... need him to hear me. His heart is racing and panicked..." He is shifted, the yellow consumes his vision and he's pressed against something smooth. But beneath it...
Strength. Power. A thrum of life. Not like a heartbeat. Like something spinning rapidly, more whooshing, but there is a hum. Comforting, life-giving.
"Listen to Ratchet, Bumblebee," a low, gravelly voice rumbles. "The last thing he would want is for you to hurt yourself more." A wash of hot air over his body, air passing through metal slats. His bleary eyes can't comprehend anything beyond the yellow. "I understand how you feel. He is unwell. This entire situation is strange but here is not the place and now is not the time."
Noises of affirmation from more than just the being that holds him, before he slips back under the waves again. They are all around him, the roots like from a tree, with him as the epicenter. Some are bright and strong as they taper off into the darkness, others are weaker, filmier. Opaque even. But it's all the same, trailing off into the darkness beyond his vision.
The waves pull back and he's so weak. He can hear himself wheezing as hushed voices speak over him. But he can't understand them. Like a series of clicks and beeps and it hurts his head. He is still held close, cradled as if he was precious, but the warmth is too much. He turns his head away and rasps, but the being pulls him closer still. Protectively so, and despite the uncomfortable heat, he does feel safe.
"I don't care about the mech, Optimus," a soft male voice says. His voice is low, much like the one that was told not to speak, but this time there is no pain or strain to his voice. "What Sam did is incredible, but I don't care. I only care about Sam."
"I know, Bumblebee, but we cannot leave him here. Sam has unintentionally tapped into the power of the Allspark. He gave life to this mech. Crafted him from Earth metal and bonded a spark to his chassis. Even now his metal is rapidly altering into the living metal we are made from. He was hardy enough without the enhancements our metals provide. He will be even more formidable in the future if left to his own devices."
"He wants something from Sam, I know it. We can't let him hurt him, Optimus."
"I do not intend to. But these are irregular circumstances, Bumblebee. I won't allow harm to come to him, of that I swear upon my spark, but I am sorry, friend, the mech comes with us." His voice is low, but patient.
"Very well. But I wish to remain with him. I will keep Sam safe."
"I will allow it."
The waves come back with a vengeance, striking him hard enough that it feels like phantom pain washing over him. It grips him tight, winding around him like a viper and pulls him into the darkness. But this time, instead of bobbing up and down, he sinks far below the surface. It swirls and curls in sinful greeting around him before swallowing him whole.
A low whine of pain jolts him awake. The teen blinks bleary eyes, taking in the space around him without really any strength to do more than look around with his eyes. Some kind of hybrid between a science lab and a medbay. There are two massive metal berths in his view on the other side of the room with stacks of supplies in massive bins between them. The room is bright and sterile, both in cleanliness and in the smell in the air.
Despite the weakness and fatigue of his body, thankfully his head isn't throbbing horribly any longer. He can at least form coherent thoughts. His memory from before waking here is muffled, distant, like he was looking at it from outside of his body. While it's hard to fully grasp all that happened, he does remember pretty much most of it despite how out of it he was.
"You're awake!" A woman says. The teen looks over and is face to face with the yellow being shifting into his vision. It must have been just out of his eyeline when he looked around. Its big vibrant blue eye lights staring at him from its slightly elevated position.
The teen lunches back, momentarily forgetting about the weakness in his body and nearly falling off of the gurney atop of a large metal slab. Large metallic hands cup around the gurney in case the teen fell off, which was surprisingly thoughtful for the strange... being to do.
Heart racing, he sits up straight at the edge of the gurney, furthest from the being, but doesn't move any further. His body is still so tired and despite the adrenaline having helped push him up in that moment of fear, he can already feel his limbs and back start to flag as exhaustion washes over him. Finally, with a clearer head and better lighting, the teen can finally see the being before him.
Definitely a robot with big blue eyes and an almost humanoid face but instead of a mouth, there is a circular mouthpiece that glows a pretty blue. This bot was the one that was holding him earlier. In the harsh light of the lab, he is like a bright yellow sun.
Heavy footsteps draw his eye to the green being, towering over the yellow one, and it's then that the teen realizes that the yellow being is knelt down. His green is more of a mix with yellow than Sam had initially thought due to the low light and like the yellow being, both are accented with black. Distinctly different from one another. The teen tries to commit both of them to memory.
They seem friendly enough. That is to say, they haven't hurt him yet. So maybe his panic from earlier was unwarranted. That is more of an appealing thought than he's willing to give voice to.
"Sam," the green being says, lowering down next to the yellow. "It's good to see you awake. How are you feeling? Your vitals are all still off." He glances off to the side and the teen follows his look. There is a monitor set up and wires attaching to him. He hadn't realized that whatever he was wearing before - probably a band affiliated t-shirt and jeans - is replaced with simple sweats and a plain t-shirt. He's not even going to get started on figuring out how these giant robots changed his clothes. He'll leave that up to the imagination.
"Sam?" The teen echoes, rubbing at his head as he reminds himself that he should be focusing, the fogginess lifting more but he is still lost and confused. He's heard that name before. A lot of times. And most of them very recently. "Is that... me?"
A pause, both of the beings look at them, the yellow one shaking his head, blue eye lights spiraling wide. He looks over at the green... robot. Yes, definitely a robot. A huge one! Both are. Wait, yes, he already thought that. Ugh, maybe he still needs a little more time.
"You..." the green robot says, frowning his very humanoid face. "You don't know who you are, Sam?"
The teen rubs his forehead. "Is that me? Am I Sam?"
The yellow robot sends a sharp look to the green one, beeping and clicking in a panicked rush. It's then that the teen feels something wash over him. A tingle in the air that made the hair on his arms stand on end. It feels like... panic, fear, confusion.
The green robot looks over at the yellow one, putting a hand on his arm. "Settle, Bumblebee. No need to panic."
The feeling pulls away, leaving the teen wondering what that feeling was. But another washes over the teen, this one still making his arm hair stand on end, but it's calmer more soothing.
"Optimus, come to the medbay. It's Sam. Something is wrong."
"Ratchet just commed, saying it's not urgent."
"It's not urgent, just... troubling."
"I'm enroute."
The teen - Sam - tilts his head a bit, wondering which one said that. It would have to be the yellow one, as the green one has a more humanoid face and his lips would have moved had he spoken, but before the teen can ask just to be sure, the green robot shifts closer, jarring his thoughts.
"Yes, Sam," the green robot says. He sends a look over at the yellow robot next to him, a disapproving look on his face. "You're Sam. And I am Ratchet."
"Ratchet..." Sam murmurs softly, putting the name to the face. He carefully lowers onto his side, tired. He pulls the thin blanket over his hips, too tired and weak to worry about whether they were going to hurt him or not.
The yellow being reaches forward, pinching the blanket between two fingers and pulls it higher up onto his shoulders, reinforcing the feeling that perhaps they won't hurt him. They seem friendly enough.
"And your name..?" Sam asks softly, squinting at the kind yellow robot.
The yellow bot flinches, as if struck, before looking over at Ratchet, then back to Sam. Then he rolls his shoulders back and with a strange enthusiasm, he says, "Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee!"
Sam's lashes flutter, a small smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. "W...What?"
"Bumblebee," Ratchet says, a light coming from his arm and scanning Sam up and down. A tab opens on his arm, and he studies the readings.
"Bumblebee..." Sam says softly, shifting closer to the faces, staring up at the yellow one. The longer he does, the more aching familiar he seems to be. Just the way that the yellow robot perks at Sam saying his name, how his strange metal face seems to just soften as he leans closer. The way that finger that helped pull up his blanket, runs down the length of his side, offering comfort freely.
Sam feels safe with this robot. The panic that had overwhelmed him earlier - yesterday? A few hours ago? - is gone. Maybe it's the aura of calmness that seems to radiate around them or that somewhere deep in the back of his mind, Sam recognizes this being.
"I know you... don't I?" Sam asks softly. He studies the big blue eyes, the yellow, black and white painted face.
Bumblebee nods. "Your Guardian, Sam," a series of different voices says through the radio. That would explain the woman's voice from earlier.
"Something is wrong with your voice," he says.
Bumblebee nods, placing a hand on his throat and making a sound of sadness. "It's broken, you know? All banged up and stuff."
Sam frowns, lashes fluttering a bit before burrowing deeper into his pillows and the thin mattress that would otherwise feel uncomfortable, but right now feels heavenly. "Your hurt?" Bumblebee nods. "Are you okay?" He nods again, the blue light of his eyes softening more somehow.
There is a noise, a keening blast of sound, clicks and beeps and grinding gears. Sam looks down at towards the foot of his gurney, past his feet and the edge of the massive berth, to see two more robots. One of silver and black, tall and sleek, the other of black, silver and white, shorter but broader. And on the berth between them - two berths it seems, pushed together - is the amalgamation.
All of its many arms in various states of destruction all tangled up, held together by bent metal, restraints holding its body down and even in the bright white glare of the lights, there is two vibrant red eyes peering through the darkness of its plating at him. From this angle, Sam can see that there is a distinct set of shoulders that press close and narrow down into the rest of its torso, meanwhile, there is some kind of raised collar around its head where all the many arms are attached to. Or maybe it's the highest point of the body the arms can go but they can move down the torso, Sam's not sure. He can't really tell from this distance.
The two robots... they almost look like they're... guarding the amalgamation. Or... maybe standing guard is a better way of looking at it. On the floor around the amalgamation is a bunch of spare parts that seem out of place all just left haphazardously but it's not Sam's place to comment on the strangeness of it.
"The silver one is Sideswipe," Ratchet says, following Sam's eyes. "He was the first Autobot that you ran into out in the streets, if you recall. The other is Ironhide, he was the second one."
"Side...swipe..." Sam mumbles, recalling that was what the disembodied voice in the silver car had said too. The silver robot smiles, offering a two fingered salute while the black and silver robot nods as Sam says, "Ironhide..."
"How are you feeling, kid?" Ironhide asks, casting a look over at the amalgamation before looking back at Sam.
"I'm... tired," Sam says, quietly, still looking into the bright red eyes of the amalgamation. "I'm confused."
"What is the last thing that you remember, Sam?" Ratchet asks, the tab on his arm closing.
"Waking up in a room... and a girl came in to ask if I'd lost power. But I don't remember her. I don't know where I was." Sam rubs at his forehead, a bit of a throb behind his eyes. "I think I fell down and hit my head."
Bumblebee chirps, little ear-like antenna wobble on his head. It's adorable.
Ratchet hums. "Yes, I think so too. You've got a good knot on the side of your head. Thankfully the swelling is going down and it doesn't appear to have done significant damage. Your vitals are all working back into the normal range. I'll keep you here for monitoring, but I think the amnesia, the confusion, is all just temporary. Any damage done to your brain is already showing signs of healing."
Sam yawns, rubbing at his forehead. "Are you a doctor?"
"In a manner," Ratchet says, shifting to rest an arm across his knee. "I'm the Autobots chief medical officer."
"Auto...bots..." Sam says softly, blinking and rubbing at his tired eyes.
"Yes, Sam. We are Autobots. Autonomous robotic organisms, and we hail from the planet of Cybertron."
All the room shifts towards the door to the hall, seeing the massive red and blue robot, the tallest of them thus far, carefully making his way in. The amalgamation spits a wave of noise at him, pulling on his bonds, red eyes narrowed. But it shrinks back when cool blue eye lights turn to it, his metal lips pressing tightly together. Despite his hard expression, there is something compassionate about it. Like sadness or concern.
"Sam," Ratchet says, pulling the frowning teen's eyes back over to him. "Do you know who this mech is?"
Sam shakes his head. He does remember all of them from... well, before. But he doesn't know their names. But just like Bumblebee, who's shoulders wilt a bit at Sam's words, there is something about the red and blue robot - mech - that just feels... safe.
"You're aliens," Sam says, sitting up a bit. It should be obvious yet saying it out loud just seemed to click something in his mind.
The large mech nods, moving closer as Bumblebee climbs to his feet and steps aside to offer the red and blue mech his spot. Sam misses the soft, comforting motion of the mech running a finger up and down his side. They exchange looks before the red and blue mech goes down onto a knee to bring him closer to eye level with Sam. "Hello Sam," the mech says, voice warm and kind, despite the flicker of unease across his face that smooths out a moment later. "I am Optimus Prime."
"Optimus... Prime..." Sam murmurs.
The amalgamation thrashes a bit, blaring white noise at them, making Sam flinch.
"He's not a big fan of you," Sam says through a grimace.
"I imagine not," Optimus rumbles in understanding. "It's the Prime Aura. All autonomous robotic organisms, not just those of Cybertronian descent, can sense it, and to some, it brings unease."
"Prime Aura?"
Optimus stares down at him, a small frown pulling at the corners of his lips, before he carefully says, "It allows my field to be more... appealing or perhaps, persuasive to other mechanoids. A form of compulsion, as it were. Making me seem more agreeable. Some mechs are extremely sensitive to it. The energy fields, I mean, and react negatively to it. Like it's an intrusion."
Struggling to understand, Sam quietly asks, "And it feels... unnatural to him because he's going against his instincts?"
Pride washes over Optimus's features and his smile is so warm, Sam sinks into his bedding, feeling utterly safe. "That's part of it. Without anything beyond very basic coding, the mech over there is running on instinct. But he's running so hot that any attempts to calm him is met with resistance, hence why he's being... detained."
Sam casts a long, sad look over at the amalgamation, frowning a bit. "What's his name?"
There is a long stretch of silence before Sideswipe finally says, "He doesn't have one, Sam. He was onlined here. He's not one of ours."
Sam blinks, staring into those bright red lights staring back at him. "So... how do we know what his name is? Will he tell us?"
"He is not capable of speech, Sam," Ratchet says softly. "You... made him, but he wasn't given any proper programming aside from very basic coding to keep him operating to some level. He's basically a clean slate bitlet without any sort of assistance in coding, programming, even firewalls for protection. He doesn't have access to our comms system or our neural network. Normal for a newly sparked bitlet, but not for a fully formed mech."
"Basically, a big ol' baby in a big ol' body," Ironhide says, crossing his arms over his chest.
"And he's hyper fixated on you, Sam," Sideswipe says. "He probably thinks that you're his creator or something, which, sure, you are."
Sam frowns, rubbing at his aching forehead. "I made him? How?"
All eyes turn to Optimus, as he quietly considers. His blue light eyes study Sam and for a moment, the teen wondered if he was going to lie to him - not that Sam would be able to tell - but then he sighs, leaning in a little more and Sam knew he was going to tell the truth. "Hopefully, you will remember this all soon, Sam, but you got... imbued with the power of the Allspark. It's a powerful artifact of creation from our world - or it created our word, depending on what parts of the histories you believe. But it was in danger back home, so it was sent here. It was... destroyed a few years ago, but a piece of it survived."
"We learned that the Allspark's power is unique - more so than we initially thought," Ratchet offers. "It holds all of its powers within every piece of itself. Meaning, even when it was mostly destroyed, the small piece that remained held all of the power of the whole of the Allspark. When you came into contact with it your body absorbed the power, and it has been steadily growing inside of you for the last few years."
Sam quietly listens as Optimus tells him this fantastical story about how, when Sam was sixteen, he was found by Bumblebee because he had an object that would lead them to the Allspark. Optimus told him a bit about Cybertron, about a war that broke out there between the Autobots and the Decepticons. How he was the one that removed the Allspark from Cybertron and the leader of the Decepticons, Megatron, had chased the Allspark to Earth. That Sam's grandfather Archibald Witwicky had found him in the Artic Circle and had the location of the Allspark burned into his glasses. The same glasses that Sam had put up on Ebay to sell, which is what led to the encounter between Sam and Bumblebee.
Optimus explained them meeting, NEST, and Mission City. The government cover-up and how Megatron now sits at the bottom of the ocean after Sam had thrust the Allspark into his chest - his own spark - instead of Optimus's spark, despite his insistence. That was when the energy of the Allspark was introduced into Sam's cells. And have been steadily growing and evolving there for the last two years. It was in some sort of dormant state, which is why it went undetected for so long.
Just before going to school - college, specifically - he located another piece of the physical cube, and it supercharged his cells again, causing an awakening in his cells. No longer was the power growing in a dormant state, now it was active and getting stronger.
Something happened to Sam at school, Ratchet thinks it was just a buildup of energy, and he was the one that blacked out the city unintentionally using the Allsparks power. It's why he's so out of it since last night.
"So... Bumblebee is my guardian, and has been with me even after Mission City?" Sam asks, trying to wrap his mind around all of this.
Bumblebee nods excitedly, pointing between the two of them singing through the radio, "You and me. And me and you. So happy together!"
Sam laughs, soft and tired. He looks down at the amalgamation, as it periodically hisses and spits waves of sounds, tugging at its bonds and kicking out its feet but it is very much stuck in place.
"You weren't coming to hurt me," Sam says, carefully pushing himself up to a sit. "I don't know why... I panicked. I knew that you were coming, but I just... I don't know."
"There is still so much about the Allspark that we don't know," Optimus says, patiently. "And now that it's a part of your body, there is more still we don't know. There is more to tell you, Sam. About us, about what we've been through, but now isn't the time. You should focus on what we've caught up with. The rest will come with time." The Autobots nod solemnly in agreement, but Bumblebee appears troubled, although he doesn't speak out. Sam can't fully make sense of his words, though. "What we caught up with?" What does that mean?
Instead of that, though, Sam asks, "What do we do about him? I thought he was just going to run out of energy or something, right? Isn't that what you said yesterday, Ratchet? Or am I misremembering?"
"No, that's what I said," Ratchet agrees, finally rising to his feet, the metal of his knees grinding a bit. "But he's... different. This mech was given a spark when he was onlined. The last time the Allspark granted power to the machines of Earth, it reforged them bodies and sent them on a rampage, as it had done in Mission City and in all of NEST's experiments leading up to our reacquisition of it. The metal of your world is not like others, not like Cybertron. Your metal is dead. Ours is alive. It allows us to feel through it. When a mech is made and gifted life from either a specific type of forge on Cybertron or through the Allspark itself, the living metal can house a spark, essentially turning what would have been an active brain in a dead body, into a fully operational being. Like us."
Sam rubs at his forehead, and Ratchet looks like he's about to insist again that Sam take some medicine, so he quickly stops and distracts the green medic with an inquisitive, "So you thought, because the big guy was made of Earth metal, he wasn't going to be like you guys were, because all the other times this has happened, they weren't like you but this time... he is?"
Ratchet frowns, watching Sam's hand drop to his lap, but nods regardless. "Yes. I'm not certain of all that is different, but I suspect it has something to do with you."
Sam carefully moves into a cross-legged position, back bowing a bit, tiredly. "I was freaked out last night. I couldn't think straight, I thought I was running for my life. I just... didn't know what was going on. I didn't mean to do this. I didn't mean to hurt anyone."
"No one thought that you did," Optimus says patiently, shifting a bit. "Unfortunately, we are now have to find a way to sooth an overly charge mech without being able to communicate with him, who is aggravated enough as it is."
"How would you sooth a... bitlet?" Sam asks.
"I would have access to their medical port, and there I could download protocols and data files to assist us," Ratchet says, ignoring the snickering of Bumblebee and Sideswipe at the thought of this massive mech being referred to as a... baby Cybertronian. Which is what Sam is assuming a bitlet is. "But he's far too big to mechhandle and even while temporarily offline, I wasn't able to locate a medical port."
Sam's heart sinks at that. "Oh no. Why wouldn't he have one of those?"
Ratchet looks over at the amalgamation, but it is still staring at Sam, unflinchingly. "Either when it was sparked a flaw in its design made it so, or it's hidden somewhere I haven't seen yet."
"Where is it usually?" Sam asks.
"On the arm for easy access."
Sam stares at the dozens of broken arms all knotted up behind its head to keep them from being able to move freely. Some of the intact ones have their fingers twisting, as if anxiously. Sam has no idea where to even start on which one could have possibly had the access port, but it was probably one of the broken ones, if he had to guess. But thankfully, it appears as though the pink fluid is no longer dripping from the limbs, so that's probably good.
As if reading his mind, Ratchet says, "If we destroyed his medical port, I'm just going to have to get the parts and install a new one. Which will take time, unfortunately. Until then, I can only do so much as he's too agitated for much else."
"I'm not helping matters," Optimus says, looking over at the amalgamation in time for it to blast noise at him again. "I make him uneasy. Especially with you, it seems."
"Why is that?" Sam asks.
"Maybe he's upset at Prime because the Aura," Ironhide offers.
"Or he wants something from Sam," Sideswipe adds. "Maybe he can sense the Allspark? I mean, it has been slowly healing him, transforming his dead metal to living metal the last few hours." It's then that Sam noticed that the pile of repair scrap around the amalgamation wasn't spare parts, but probably pieces of the amalgamation that were regrown and forced off of his body.
That's kind of crazy.
Bumblebee's cardoor wings flutter up a bit at Sideswipes words, frowning at that. He stares at the amalgamation, distrust written all over his face.
"It's okay," Sam says softly to the yellow bot, recognizing it as protectiveness as opposed to malice. "I don't think he wants to hurt me. He didn't want to yesterday, at least. And he doesn't seem like he wants to hurt me now."
"Well," Optimus says diplomatically as he moves to his feet, "until we can communicate with him, he must remain restrained. He is too big and too strong to be allowed to roam freely. We won't allow harm to come to him while he's in our care. Once he's finished healing, hopefully Ratchet will be able to gain access to his medical port and we can go from there."
"So, he's just going to be stuck there?" Sam asks, frowning. "All strapped down with guards standing over him?"
"For now," Optimus says diplomatically. There is a hint of sadness to his expression as he looks over at the amalgamation. "But you should rest, Sam. You seem very tired."
Sam opens his mouth to protest, when a yawn escapes him. He flushes, looking down at his lap. He should argue, but he's not sure how to help the situation, or if there is even anything that he can do. But he's too tired. His mind is racing, trying to compile all of the new information that he's been given. He has questions, they burn in his chest and lungs, but some of it could be answered, he thinks, if given time to remember on his own, and others, when he is of a clearer head than he is now.
He lowers down onto his side again, wondering how he's going to try to sleep with how loud of a buzz there is in his ears, or how rampant his thoughts are.
He looks up at the yellow bot, moving closer again with large, gentle blue eyes. His guardian. His best friend, according to Optimus, and something in Sam's chest tightens in affection. Somehow, he knows it's true. Softly, he asks, "Will you stay with me?"
Bumblebee nods, lowering down next to the berth. His soft voice, whispering in the back of Sam's head, "I will never leave your side again."