Author's Note: I am so sorry about the wait! I hope you continue to enjoy!

Sam jolts, a blast of sound forcing him into awareness once more. He looks down towards the amalgamation to see that he's staring intently at Ironhide. By the way that they were staring at each other, it's almost like Sam caught them in the middle of a silent argument. Which might have been amusing if one of them wasn't literally strapped down to a berth and under guard. Any amusement from that is short lived.

"Knock that off, mech," the black and silver mech snaps, scowling. "I told you that we aren't going to hurt you."

"He doesn't understand you, Ironhide," Sideswipe says, stepping out of his spot by the amalgamation's head for a smaller, blue mech to take his place. "Oh, and Jolt, he's been shedding his metal this whole time, his little hands are the last thing, I think. Well, and pieces inside his chassis, if I had to guess. His chest is bulging out, but he won't let Ratchet look at him. So, well, good luck with that."

The smaller, blue mech, probably about Bumblebee's size if a little shorter, tilts his head. He looks at the dangling, mostly repaired hands and twitching and twisting sporadically. "Uh huh..." He looks at Sideswipe. "So, what happens if we have to open him up to expel the dead metal from his frame?"

"You hold on for dear life," Sideswipe laughs.

"And if he doesn't open up?"

Sideswipe considers while Ironhide simply says, "He blows up."

The smaller mech, Jolt, scowls at the taller mech. He moves to take Sideswipe's spot, crossing his arms over his chest as he looks over at Sam, blue eye lights brightening as he straightens up, arms dropping immediately. "Oh. Hi, Sam."

Sideswipe twists around to glance at him. His brightens a bit. "Hi Sam! Sorry we woke you."

"You probably don't remember me either," Jolt says, quietly. "I'm Jolt."

"It's... nice to meet you, Jolt."

Sam rubs at his throbbing forehead as he sits up a bit. There is a strange little tingle in his chest. Nothing hurting or alarming, almost like an itch, but inside, somehow. His gurney, thankfully, isn't completely flat, so all he has to do is prop himself against the pillows to better look around the room. Optimus Prime, Bumblebee and Ratchet are all gone, Sam notes, looking around.

"They are speaking in the hall," Ironhide says, tilting his head. At Sam's perplexed look, he adds, "Prime, Bumblebee and Ratchet." Sam blinks in surprise, wondering if he had spoken out loud, but the black and silver mech simply laughed, eyes brightening as a sensation of amusement and affection wash over Sam, prickling his skin. "Amnesiac or not, you don't change, kiddo."

Sam licks his lips, mouth dry, before managing to ask, "We've known each other for a while..? Since Mission City?"

Ironhide nods. "Yep. Ratchet, Optimus, Jazz and I met you in Mission City. You and Bumblebee met a bit before us."

Sam blinks, reaching up to scratch at his arm. His skin tingling now along his arms. "Jazz?" His eyes flicker around the room, wondering if he could recall Jazz from the night before. "Which one was he from last night?"

Jolt and Sideswipe both share a look with one another as the feeling of affection and amusement from earlier is washed away. Sadness and forlorn runs a shiver down Sam's spine, immediately making him feel bad. The amalgamation shifts, as if uncomfortable.

Ironhide heaves a sigh, making steam blasting out from between the plates of his armor. "Prime didn't tell you everything earlier about Mission City. Jazz died there. He was torn in two by Megatron."

Sam jerks back in horror, trying to imagine this beastly mech capable of physically tearing another mech into two pieces. The brutality of it in his mind's eye is too horrific for words.

"Ironhide," Jolt sighs. rubbing at the back of his neck. Sideswipe looks down at his feet, as if he could sink into the ground. "He really didn't need the specifics."

Ironhide's face does something complicated. Sam has to know them, has to be used to them on a subconscious level, because he can read them so well. Rationally, he knows that they are familiar to him even though he doesn't remember them actively. He can spot minute changes to their expressions. The action is practiced and familiar. It comes so naturally for Sam.

Finally, Ironhide looks over at Jolt and says, "I disagree. Prime can't help himself. He'll always chose to protect Sam first, even from the harsh reality of the situation that we're in. Especially right now while Sam doesn't remember, we are relying on his belief in our word about the danger the Decepticons. He needs to know how bad they are, and Prime understating the danger just to spare Sam of the harshness of the truth is a detriment to him. Jazz was one of us. He was murdered in cold blood by Megatron. He wasn't shot in battle or beaten in a fair fight. He was torn in two at the waist."

Then, Ironhide looks over at a door on the other side of the room, large and metal, next to another that was open, a desk visible inside with filing cabinets barely in view and schematics on the walls. Sam follows his gaze, staring at the closed door with his brows pulled together.

"Is...?" Sam rasps, throat unbearably tight as a sadness that feels both foreign and half felt, almost secondhand washes over him like a tidal wave. He rubs his hands up and down his arms, his flesh still tingling, like static crackling under his skin.

"Yeah, he's in there," Sideswipe says quietly. "He was repaired so that when Prowl got here, he wouldn't have to see..." he trails off, shaking his head, blue eye lights fluttering a bit. "Never mind. But yeah, he's in there."

Sam looks over at the closed door next to the office where Sam suspects that Ratchet works in. But to be sure, he asks, "Does Ratchet work in there?"

Sideswipe, Jolt and Ironhide all look at the door.

"Yes?" Jolt affirms, tilting his head.

"Was he friends with Jazz?" Sam asks, sitting up a little bit more to stare at the door, as if able to peer past the solid metal and see the bisected mech inside that they're talking about. It's hard to track this conversation, his skin feels like bees are buzzing just beneath the surface.

"Prime, Jazz, Ratchet and I..." Ironhide says carefully, not seeming to notice Sam's discomfort, "have known each other for a very long time, kid. Jazz was an easy mech to love and be annoyed by. They had their ups and downs, but you don't spend as much time together as we all have without getting close. Friends or not, there is a loyalty and love there that's beyond labels. You know what I mean?"

Sam looks over at Ironhide, nodding slowly, his shoulders pulling inward. "I think so." Then back over at the door. "How torturous that must be. To always have someone you care about one room over... like that."

The amalgamation rumbles, sounding upset, with narrowing red slits but the other mechs are silent, looking between each other and the closed door. As if maybe, they hadn't considered, or just never spoke the acknowledgment out loud before.

"Sam?"

Sam glances over to see Ratchet walking in, his gait hastened, as if in alarm. Optimus Prime and Bumblebee behind him, looking between the yellowish green bot and Sam, confused. The amalgamation snarls and shakes on his berth, glaring at Optimus. In Sam's peripheral, he sees Ironhide, Jolt and Sideswipe turn their attention to the large Earth-born mech, trying to calm him down.

"Ratchet?" Sam rasps, looking over at the greenish mech as a beam of blue light nearly blinds him from Ratchet's arm. "Ow, why?"

"Sam, how are you feeling right now? Right at this moment?" Ratchet asks, voice tense.

"Like my eyes just got burned out of my head."

Sideswipe lets out a little snicker, as Ratchet sends Sam a droll look. "Are you in any pain?"

"Just my retina."

"Samuel," Ratchet growls, looking less than pleased by his response. "It's good to see that your personality is coming back, I was worried with how demure you were earlier, but I need to know what's going on with you right now."

Sam rubs hard at his eye, blinking the spots from it, but it doesn't distract him from the tingling in his skin. "There are..." Sam hesitates, trying to figure out how to say this. "It feels like my skin is buzzing. It was fine when I woke up, but it's growing more like..." He rubs his arms as the tab opens on Ratchet's arm and he frowns down at it. "Bees under the skin," Sam mumbles.

Bumblebee tilts his head a that, making a little noise. He reaches forward to lightly touch Sam's side with a finger when Ratchet snaps, "Wait! No, Bumblebee!" The large yellow mech freezes a few scant inches from Sam's side.

Sam glances over at the large metal finger as a crackle of blue lightning almost... jumps from his nose and zaps the tip of the digit. Bumblebee makes a noise of surprise and pulls his hand back. The small crackle of lightning dancing up into his hand before vanishing beneath the plates there. Bumblebee's eye lights are blown wide as he shakes his hand and looks at Sam. He makes a humming noise.

"Lightning, lord!" Bumblebee says. "Right from the sky!"

Sam's body heats up, like a dam being broken. "I don't feel good." He sinks into the bed, feeling all the energy leaving him. His skin feels like it's vibrating, and the effort of each shake is enough to draw more of his energy from him.

"Allspark energy is fluctuating out of control," Ratchet warns, looking over at Optimus Prime. "He might shut down this entire base with another EMP pulse, like he did at Harvard."

"How do we stop that?" Jolt asks at the same time that Sideswipe asks, "What is that going to do to us?" They both look at each other, then back to Ratchet.

"Getting blasted with enough energy at ground zero with a sacred artifact that already blacked out a city yesterday, yeah, I wonder," Ironhide says drolly. "And there is no way we can outrun it."

"How do we stop that?" Jolt asks again, leaning away as if that was somehow going to help. The amalgamation lets out a blaring sound, and is hushed by Jolt with a soft pat on his head and a quiet, "I can't hear if you make all that noise, mech." The amalgamation, tips his head back a bit to be able to see Jolt, rumbling but otherwise quiets down a bit.

Ratchet shakes his head, still looking at Optimus. "I don't know how to stop it. We might just have to let him..." he trails off, belying how much he really doesn't want to finish the sentence or do whatever it is that he was suggesting.

Optimus looks down at Sam, slowly lowering to one knee, blue eye lights flickering a bit. "I won't just leave him to suffer, and we can't just knock out more of the city and the NEST base." He considers, looking at Sam as he rubs his hands up and down his arms, but it feels like all of his limbs have fallen asleep. That intense prickling sensation of a limb without blood in it but it was across his entire body.

"It hurts..." Sam rasps, curling up a bit. He looks at his hand, arcs of blue lightning between his fingers. Was this what it was like before? He doesn't remember.

"Here, Sam." Sam looks up to see Optimus Prime's large hand moving closer, palm facing upward. "Try to dispel some of the energy into me. My spark can handle it." Ratchet sends him a sharp look, lips pressing together.

"He could fry your systems, Optimus."

"I'm willing to take the risk, we are sitting on the same portion of the grid that a hospital is. We can't afford to destroy the grid here. I have to at least try," Optimus says. He looks at Sam, expression softening. "We will take this slowly. Just keep touching my hand and expel the charge."

Shaking, Sam barely manages to slur out, "How..?"

"As you did with Bumblebee," Optimus says, voice even despite the softness on his face.

Sam waits a beat longer, looking at Optimus's face, trying to decide if he meant it. Seeing nothing to the contrary, Sam reaches out, his hand, tiny by comparison, touches the finger and the blue lightning arcs off of his hand and into the finger. It's almost burns inside his chest as a bit of relief hits him. The blue lightning snakes across his hand and up his arm, sinking into the plates there before Sam pulls his hand back to break the connection between them.

Optimus keeps his face neutral, but Sam could see that the lightning was doing something to him. It didn't appear to hurt, thankfully. But he did flex his hand, even if he kept it out towards Sam.

"I think that... is a little better..? Maybe..." Sam murmurs.

"Go again," Optimus says, voice gentle. Bumblebee moves around to the foot of the berth that Sam's gurney is on, while Ratchet is now focus on the tab on his arm, carefully watching the readings he's getting.

Sam obeys, reaching out to touch Optimus's finger. The lightning races from Sam's hand into the Optimus's finger again, up his hand, into his arm and up towards his chest before Sam can pull away. That tingling sensation ebbing away a bit, but this time, Optimus shivers, the lights of his eyes flickering while Sam can see the static beneath his shifting plates, dancing just below the armored exterior.

This time, Sam sighs, taking in a few deep breaths after, already feeling relief. He hadn't realized how tight his chest was until just now.

"It's lessening," Ratchet murmurs. "It's working, Optimus."

"Does this hurt you, Sam?" Optimus asks softly blinking his eye lights stable once more. Bumblebee shifts, as if the prospect upsets him.

Sam shakes his head. "No. I can breathe better. The tingling in my skin isn't as bad." He reaches for Optimus again before stopping just a few short inches from his finger, small arcs of electricity connecting them together. "Does this hurt you? Am I..?" He hesitates, knowing that he should probably keep going even if it was, simply to ensure nothing worse happened, but he didn't want to hurt Optimus.

The red and blue mech smiles softly. "You aren't hurting me, Sam."

Relieved, Sam nods, reaching out to place his hand back on the large metal finger, watching as the arcs of lightning dance up the hand, into the arm, to the shoulder then down into the main body, crackling loudly and dancing between the plates, sinking further beneath. Optimus sucks in a slow breath, chest puffing out. The expansion of his chest gives Sam enough room to see small gaps in the armor, the blue electricity crackling along the frame, meeting a whiter lightning underneath. They twine and spark when they meet.

Sam doesn't let go, even as Optimus closes his eyes. Sam feels instant relief, the heat of his body being stolen from him. The tension in his muscles ease more and more as the blue lightning from his body just jumps around Optimus's, between armored plates, across limbs, sinking into whatever framing lies beneath. Dimly, Sam can hear Ratchet talking, voice low, but he can't make out the words, even as Optimus nods slowly, eyes still closed.

Like a floodgate being released, the last of that growing pressure breaks and the flow of lightning across his skin fizzles out. The intense tingling sensation dims enough to be bearable and Sam sags against the sheets once more, sighing in relief.

Optimus's plates spread out, like puffed out fur on a cat, boiling hot air hisses into the air, but they are directed away from Sam, as to not burn him. Although the fact that Sam can feel the tangible rise in temperature tells him everything that he needs to know about how hot the air he exhausted was.

Sam watches as Optimus, eyes still closed, lets the lightning crackle around his plates for a few minutes, slow even breaths through metal slats, and as Sam was sinking into exhaustion, Optimus opens his eyes, and the arcs of blue lightning finally dissipate where Sam can't see them. The plates press firmly back in place as Optimus turns his attention back to Sam, studying him carefully.

"Are you alright now, Sam?" His voice is soft, blue eye lights brighter than normal.

Sam nods, exhausted. "I think so. I'm just... tired now." Optimus nods, his hand curling up and a single finger runs down Sam's side, so gently that the teen smiles lightly. "Are you okay, Optimus? I didn't... hurt you?"

Optimus shakes his head. "No, Sam. You didn't hurt me."

Sam rubs at his forehead, sinking into the covers. His eyes drift to Ratchet, who is nodding at the readings from the tab on his arm, while Bumblebee, who was standing between Ironhide, Jolt, Sideswipe and the amalgamation, moves over to Sam, on the other side of Optimus. The three Autobots were looking at the ground, as if respecting their privacy. Jolt had moved in front of the amalgamation, saying something softly to him when the larger mech shifted and pulled on his restraints.

Sam looks back over at Optimus. "Did I do something wrong? Humans don't... they don't have lightning come from their fingers..." He rubs at his head, exhausted. Bumblebee lets out a little whirl, sounding sad.

"You did nothing wrong, Sam. You needed to expel that energy, and it worked out in our favor. You don't need to worry about anything else for now," Optimus says, voice gentle. Sam thinks about what Ironhide had said, about Optimus always choosing to protect Sam first, even from the harshness of the truth and had to wonder if he was doing it again, or if in time he'll explain.

"How do you feel now, Sam?" Ratchet asks. "Your levels are all off. Are you able to eat something or do I need to prepare another IV for you?"

"I can eat," Sam says right as his eyes droop closed and sleep claims him.


"Frankie."

Bumblebee glances over at him from beside Ratchet, who only turns his head in acknowledgement. They were standing over on the other side of the room, by the door to the office and what Sam can only assume is basically the Autobot morgue. Two new bots, identical in almost every visible way, aside from one being green and the other red and slight armor design differences, now flank the amalgamation.

"Robin. Tyler. Josh. Gerald. Philip. Tom."

Sam squints, rubbing at his eyes as Bumblebee moves closer, tilting his head to the side. Sam shifts in his gurney, trying to wake himself up more as he struggles to think of other names. He's been awake for a few minutes, trying to get his bearings, and all he can think about is the amalgamation, and how it has no identity outside of that single word.

"What're you saying, Sam?" The green bot asks, tilting his head. Like all the others thus far, they knew him, but he didn't know them.

"Going crazy, saying random human names. Goner, total goner," the red one sighs, shaking his head. "I'll miss him."

The green one gives him a look. "You think he's dying or something?"

"Why else would he be staring like that? Speaking in monotone and just..." he gestures at Sam, as if his entire person was reason enough for this bot to feel the way he does.

The green one looks at Sam, blinks his eye lights just slightly off sync, before nodding. "Yeah, okay. I see it."

"No offense, of course," the red one says, looking at Sam with a crooked smile. Both had thick southern drawls to their voices, and the red one's smile shows missing teeth - which is very strange. And beating a stereotype to death.

Yeah, what was there to be insulted about there.

Bumblebee beeps and clicks at them, and there is a terseness to it that makes Sam think it was probably chastisement. Both of the two bots flip Bumblebee the finger as he rolls his eyes and turns back to Sam, expression softening.

"Are you trying to remember something?" Bumblebee asks in the radio voices. He moves closer, dropping down to a knee so that their faces can be near one another. Sam feels something in him relax at the proximity of the yellow mech. They were friends, best friends, before this, and Sam feels it. Feels something like love and affection in his chest for this mech. But it feels distant, like it's coming from way deep inside of himself.

Sam shakes his head as he rubs at his eyes, trying to wake himself up more. "No, I was trying to think up a name to call him. In my head, I keep thinking amalgamation, but that's not right. We should call him something, but Earth names seem too... not right."

"Why?" Bumblebee asks, honestly. "Bumblebee." He puts a hand to his chest, meaningfully.

Sam presses his lips together. "It's different. You chose that, or at least like it enough to keep. And besides, it's different than Bob or Steve. It's, well, Bumblebee. It suits you."

Bumblebee beams at that, proudly. "Thank you. It was my third name. But it's the one I like the most. The one I intend to keep."

"Third?" Sam murmurs, sitting up a bit. He's still tired. He doesn't know how long he's been asleep, but he knows it's been a while. "There is a story there."

Bumblebee nods. "I didn't like who I was before the Autobots. So, when I joined. Optimus Prime gave me a new name."

Intrigued, Sam asks, "Is it normal for him to rename Autobots?"

Bumblebee shakes his head. "I asked him to. Joining the Autobots wasn't like a new chapter. It was a fresh start."

Sam considers that. "How did Optimus come up with that? Had he been to Earth before?"

"Cybertronian names are complicated, Sam," Ratchet says, making his way over. "A lot goes into it. Appearance and station, amongst a slew of other things, which is why it's a lot. And our names don't easily translate into your language, but we find similar meanings or glyph sounds and use those to make it easier for humans to speak with us."

Sam wilts, looking over at the amalgamation. "I just don't want to keep calling him 'Amalgamation' in my head. He needs a proper name. Human names definitely don't fit. But if Cybertronian names are as complicated as you say, I don't know if I can figure that out for him." At least not now. He would be willing to try mostly because he believes that having a name is important, and well, Sam made the amalgamation, he should be held responsible for him.

Even if he hadn't intended on doing that, especially in the panicked state he was in the night before.

"I'm sure any name you come up with will be a good one," Ratchet says, crossing his arms. He adapts a faraway look for a moment before blinking out of it to focus down at Sam once more.

Curious if he imagined it but figuring it wasn't his place to question what the look was for, Sam instead asks, "But what if he doesn't like it?"

"Then, once he can speak, he can change it, if he wants. Or ask for help in coming up with a new one." Ratchet says it so easily. But it's not super common for humans to change their names just like that. Isn't it? He knows that people do it all the time, but like there is long process and things to go through in order to do it. Maybe it's not the same for the Cybertronians.

Sam rubs at his temple. He feels the pull of the IV in his arm. He forces himself to put his arms back down as to not mess with it.

Ratchet frowns but turns away instead of fussing. He heads back over to his work bench and keeps fiddling with whatever he was working on.

Sam looks back at the amalgamation, not surprised to still be perpetually holding his full attention. "Is it sexist that I just assumed he was male? Is he male?" He looks over at Bumblebee. "Is that bad to ask? I don't even know."

Bumblebee chirps, expression warm as a feeling of intense affection and fondness washes over Sam's skin. "We do not separate into genders like humans do, Sam."

"Oh?"

"'He' and 'She' are used for humans' differentiations of us, but really there isn't genders for us," Ratchet explains, his back to them. "We are all technically hermaphrodites by human standards, I suppose. We are capable of reproducing with any frame type. I can be a carrier, and carry my young, or sire for another."

Sam's eyes nearly bulge out of his head in shock. "Really? But then... I thought that smaller mech, the pink one, was female."

"Yo, Arcee is a femme, Sam, get it straight," the red bot says.

"There are two frame classes, mech and femme," Ratchet sighs, turning to look at Sam. "And from there, subcategorized into greater distinctions. Bumblebee and Arcee are in the same subcategory as speedsters. Arcee just happens to have a femme frame while Bumblebee has a mech frame. Yes, there is physical differences, but we don't recognize those by genders."

"So, no 'he' or 'her'?" Sam asks, trying to see if he understands.

"We use identifiers in our glyphs when addressing one another," Ratchet says. "Simply speaking, we use our connection to them as their identifiers. For example, in a professional standpoint, instead of 'he' or 'him' for Bumblebee, I would use the equivalent of 'underling' or 'patient'. With Optimus in a more friendly standpoint, I could use 'acquaintance' when I'm angry at him, and 'friend' when I'm not."

Sam looks down at the covers on his lap trying to absorb this new information, nodding to himself. "That sounds... complicated, if I'm being honest."

Bumblebee lets out a little whirl, eyes cresting in a sweet caricature of a smile despite him not having a mouth. At least, not like Sam's.

Ratchet shrugs his shoulders, turning back to what he was working on. "Yes, well, that's why your language was very easy to learn. Some of the idiosyncrasies leave much to be desired, but easy enough compared to the complexity of our own language."

Sam lets out a little huff, sinking into his bed, looking between the red and green bots to the amalgamation, who was, of course, still watching him. There is a sound of a door whooshing open pulls Sam's eyes away. He looks over to the door into the medbay to see a human man in a military uniform walk in. In his hands is a tray. Ratchet turns to greet him, walking over and kneeling in front of the man.

"Thank you, Johnson," Ratchet says, taking the tray. The man looks up at Sam, but Sam can't really make up his features with how far they are from each other, and from the angle in which he's slumped against the bed. He just turns his attention to Ratchet, who holds out the tray once he was close enough. Sam leaned forward a bit to take it as carefully as he could. Ratchet went back to his workbench while Sam took note of the food offered to him.

The tray had soup and a glass of water, and some bread. It was jarring to Sam to realize that he didn't know if he would like any of this. He didn't remember what foods he enjoyed. But either he was so hungry that it didn't matter, or he liked the soup and bread anyway and they knew that he would, but once he started eating, he couldn't stop. The soup had bits of chicken and carrots. The broth was nice and creamy and warm. He loved it. He dunked the soft, warm bread in it. He practically licked the bowl clean afterward. It was so good.

"Like?" Bumblebee asks, tilting his head with bright eyes from where he was knelt at Sam's bedside, having watched the whole time while he ate.

Sam nods, rubbing at his full stomach. "That was very good."

"Did you see that, Mudflap?" the green mech asks.

"I sure did, Skids," the green says, leaning forward with wide eyes. "His jaw unhinged like a snake."

Sam flushes, sinking into the bedsheets. Bumblebee whirls on them, clicking and beeping at the two, eye lights narrowed. The two mechs - twins, they have to be - start clicking back at him while Ratchet rolls his eyes and heaves his shoulders in a huff. Sam looks back over at the amalgamation to see him watching the teen with bright red eyes. The amalgamation shifts in such a way that Sam can kind of see a divot down the center of its chest that he hadn't noticed before but can't quite make out from this angle.

Sam pushes the tray away, moving it off to the side of the large gurney behind him so that he can roll onto his side towards Bumblebee and the arguing two mechs at his feet, eyes locked onto the amalgamation. He knows that everything, memory-wise will come back to him in time - he hopes - but with the all-encompassing everything else going on, he just wants to focus on what he feels he can control. He doesn't want to think about how he got wrapped up in alien robots from outer space, or how he has an alien artifact super charging his cells. Or about all the obligations he's not fulfilling, and all the things in his life that he has simply forgotten.

It feels overwhelming. It feels like too much. He had hoped thinking up a name for the bot that he unintentionally created would at least offer him some semblance of control, but it still leaves him lacking. Mostly because it seems like a proper name for the amalgamation is not going to be coming from him.

After a whole thirty seconds of the yellow, green and red bots all clicking at each other, Ratchet glares over his shoulder at them, snapping, "Keep up that bickering and I'll remove all three of your vocal modulators. Quiet!"

All three of them quiet down. Bumblebee rolls his eyes, turning back to Sam, while Mudflap leans over the amalgamation's feet for a bit, stage whispering, "Seems like the Hatchet is in as good of a mood as he always is."

Turning his attention away from Skids and Mudflap, Sam looks up at Bumblebee. "I have to go to the bathroom."


Turns out, there isn't a bathroom in the Autobot medbay, which, Sam thinks is fair. So, Ratchet removed the IV, deeming that Sam's levels were back to where he wanted them, and that he probably wouldn't need it anymore. Once there was a bandage on the back of his hand from where the IV was stuck into the vein, Bumblebee carefully picked up and lowered him to the floor. It took a second for Sam to maintain his own balance, but once he did, Bumblebee stepped back and transformed into a sleek, gorgeous Camero.

Sam would have taken a moment to admire him, but his bladder would no longer be ignored, so he climbed into the proffered driver's side seat after the door opened on its own and Bumblebee took him to the nearest bathroom, which was thankfully down a massive hallway, built with Autobots in mind, past a few double doors built to match. As nice as it all was, there was something notably janky about it. Like it was all kind of hobbled together last minute.

As they were leaving the room, the amalgamation seemed to realize Sam was leaving and started wailing. Sounds of panic and rage as it thrashed about behind them as Bumblebee peels off. Sam felt bad, but he was about to pee his pants.

He relieved himself and washed his hands before he stopped, looking at his reflection in the mirror. This is the first time he's seeing himself. And it is definitely a stranger looking back at him. Too pale skin, dark hair that curls around his ears and brown eyes that appeared bloodshot. He's young, he can see. Optimus said that he was sixteen when he and Bumblebee met. And it's been two years. Plus, he just started college at Harvard. So, he's eighteen.

He is young.

He lifts his shift to look at his side, from where he fell on the floor back at his dorm room. There is marks along his ribs, but they are an ugly yellow, purple and green color, like they were already in the final stages of healing. He lifts the shirt further to look at his shoulder to see it's much the same. But when he touches them, it doesn't hurt, like the wounds are healed but his body hasn't fully figured that out yet. Was this the power of the Allspark?

He hit his head, that's what Ratchet said. But when he feels around his hair on that side, nothing stands out to him aside from a small knot, but it doesn't hurt either.

He straightens out his shirt, rubs tiredly at his eyes, surprised that he still wants to go back to sleep, but gives himself a little shake to head back. The amalgamation was so upset when he left, he needs to go back. He's responsible for him. He's wasted enough time looking at himself.

He heads back out to see Bumblebee waiting for him. There is a few military personnel walking about as Bumblebee drives back to the medbay, careful not to hit anyone. Thankfully, there is designated 'sidewalks' that everyone keeps to, to ensure the center of the walkways are open for the Autobots, it seems. It's when they are only a part of the way back that Bumblebee suddenly slams on the accelerator, and they go flying down the hall.

"What's wrong, Bumblebee?" Sam asks, sinking back in his seat in fear.

"They need Bee," Bumblebee says.

"Who?" Sam gasps, stomach sinking in dread.

Bumblebee doesn't respond and by the time they make it back to the medbay, the room is full of the Autobots. Mudflap, Skids, Ratchet, Ironhide, Sideswipe and Jolt are there, trying to calm the amalgamation down, as he tears away at another restraint. His left leg is free, the many smaller arms are free - some still in a minor state of disrepair and spew sparks - and the upper chest bar is currently being torn apart by the little hands as the amalgamation tries to sit up.

Bumblebee practically spills Sam out of the driver's seat and transforms into his bi-pedal form. He moves to join Ironhide and Mudflap on one side, trying to hold the amalgamation down, with Skids and Sideswipe on the other, while Ratchet and Jolt try to wrangle the many arms that keep batting them away.

The amalgamation roars at the sight of Bumblebee, enough of its small arms pull away from Ratchet and Jolt to grab onto Bumblebee and start to dig beneath his armor. Bumblebee wails, trying to pull away when Ironhide's hand transforms into a cannon, but before he can open fire, Ratchet already yelling at him, Sideswipe unsheathes a blade from his own arm and slices through the offending limbs.

Rage, pain, fear pulses through the room as the amalgamation recoils, stuck between battling off the Autobots, trying to free itself, and shrinking away from Sideswipe.

"Stop!" Sam yells, racing forward as far as he dares, not wanting to get crushed under the Autobots' feet as they struggle to grab onto the amalgamation. Bumblebee stumbles back, reaching for the remains of the arms, ripping the first one out from under his armor and lets out this horrendous yowl of pain, pink liquid pouring from under the armor. "Bumblebee!"

Hand pressed against the armor, Bumblebee staggers back, but looks at Sam, shaking his head when the teen takes a step closer. "No, back, Sam!"

"Enough!"

Sam just about pulls free from his skin at the booming command from right behind him. He turns to see Optimus moving into the medbay, eyes flickering down to Sam and carefully stepping over him.

The amalgamation hisses at him, yanking free of all his remaining restraints and pushing to his feet, red eyes blazing with rage - and fear.

"Are you alright, Bumblebee?" Ratchet yells, trying to keep the small arms he does have under control. "Bumblebee?"

Bumblebee nods, still holding his hand over the weeping armor plate, little ear flaps on his head twitching when Optimus looks at him. He clicks something before turning his gaze back to the amalgamation. Three more of its small arms are dug in underneath Bumblebee's armor, but he wisely leaves them be as they hang uselessly, now separate from the amalgamation's main body.

Optimus holds up his hands, a mask sliding into place across the lower half of his face appears and tries to calmly speak to the amalgamation. His voice is low, even, and he's bending his knees as if to make himself smaller, not that he needed to. The amalgamation is the tallest in the room, even as it staggers, trying to regain its footing. It - he - looks at Optimus, panicked, and blasting waves of sound at him, making a hasty step back, only to knock into the two berths.

In the harsh light of the medbay, Sam can finally see the amalgamation's chest. The sides of its shoulders seemingly blending downward into its main body and meeting strangely at its hips. The way its chest is carved inward between the two strange protrusions. His armor is so black and crudely plated that if it didn't remind Sam of a straight-jacket - a straight-jacket! Of all things to remember! - then he wouldn't have made the connection.

And then, it clicks.

"They're his arms," Sam murmurs, eyes blown wide. "Ratchet! The protrusions on his chest, Ratchet!"

Ratchet glances over at him as the amalgamation stiffens, hearing Sam's voice. He pulls his eyes from Optimus wearily, searching for Sam.

"What?" Ratchet huffs, feet sliding slightly across the ground as the amalgamation tries to free his little arms from the Autobot medic.

"The protrusions from his shoulders to his waist, they are his arms crossed over his stomach!" Sam says, his heart thundering in his chest. He's right, he knows that he is. If Ratchet can get to his arm, then they can calm him down.

Optimus shifts slightly, moving to the right, the action drawls the attention of the amalgamation, who snarls at him, but shrinks back again, still frightened of the red and blue Autobot.

It happens so fast. They had to have somehow communicated with one another in the span between seconds, because once the amalgamation dared to look down at Sam, who was now revealed since Optimus moved out of the way, all the Autobots were moving to restraining measures, even injured Bumblebee. Everyone was grabbing limbs and pushing down and moving to contort him on the ground as he struggled. Ratchet released a cord from his arm and, with brutal efficiency from Sideswipe, they carved off the panel of armor on the amalgamation's arm. The pink of their blood, like with Bumblebee, immediately beings to flow.

The amalgamation squealed in pain, trying to buck them off and push them away, but despite his incredible strength, they were too much for him. They managed to force one of the arms away from the main body. The use the place where Sideswipe cut away the armor to do something to the exposed form beneath that seemed to force the arm out of whatever was holding it in place before, the amalgamation screaming the whole time, before Ratchet forced open the now revealed panel that was located on the inner arm, pressed to his stomach and plugged the cord in. A few more harrowing moments of screaming and thrashing, before the amalgamation just completely stilled, red eyes dimming gray once more.