[Bay] War Without End - Bumblebee
Jul. 4th, 2014 03:04 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dracoqueen22a/n: It shouldn't have to be said but just in case, this is very obviously not TF4 compliant. Though there are some interesting parallels to be drawn, methinks. Also, this is a bit of a short one. Bee wanted a say but not too much of one.
Title: War Without End – Bumblebee
Universe: Bayverse, post-DotM, canon-compliant
Characters: Bumblebee, Sam Witwicky, Optimus Prime
Rating: T
Warnings: mentions of character death, angst/mourning
Desc: He doesn't know who Optimus is anymore, and the Autobots are but strangers.
They are fighting again. Their argument trickles down the floors to Bumblebee's audials, clear as day. Sometimes, he thinks they forget how fine his sensors are, how he has to tone them down to ensure he's not focusing on the irrelevant. He has several subroutines running constantly, just to filter out the extraneous.
Sam and Carly's voices have never been considered irrelevant. They are a comfort to him, a familiar tone in an ocean of unfamiliarity.
Bee's engine purrs, and he sinks lower on his shocks. He could shift to his root mode, but what's the point of sitting by himself, staring into the dark. He might as well conserve energy by keeping this form.
They are arguing again. Sometimes, Bee's not even sure there's a root cause. Maybe they argue for the sake of arguing.
Sam's angry, and Carly's scared, and the distance between them gets larger and larger every day. Sam's feelings of inadequacy grow, fuel to the fire, and Carly's inability to understand only worsens things.
Bee misses Mikaela. For all that she up and left them one day without answer, without explanation, that doesn't mean he's forgotten her.
But he doesn't want to compare Mikaela and Carly. It's not for him to decide who Sam should spend his life with. Mikaela was an important friend. Carly was approaching that… but maybe, not so much anymore.
The war is over, Optimus says. They should be free to build lives for themselves, enjoy peace-time. Relax and recover.
The war is over, but Ratchet’s gone. Prowl left shortly after. The war is over, and they’re still hunting down Decepticons, and Bee doesn't know who Optimus is anymore. He doesn't return to base because hearing Sam and Carly argue is still better than feeling the sheer wrongness in Optimus' field.
Bee can't explain it, and he's not even sure when it started. Not soon after the battle in Chicago maybe. Or even earlier and he just didn't notice because he spent so much time being anywhere else but there. It was only the down-time, the soft moments between one ‘Con encounter and the next, when Optimus' behavior seemed unusual.
Not so much anymore.
What had been the last straw for Ratchet? Why had he gone?
Bee remembers the last time he'd seen the medic. He'd gone in for some routine maintenance, and Ratchet had fixed the last of what was broken or needing repair. He had a new vocalizer, refurbished from a ‘Con but better than nothing. Ratchet too had acted strangely, distracted and deep in thought, but there'd been nothing to indicate his future intentions.
How much should he worry? How broken is their leader that not even Ratchet could fix him? That Ratchet felt there was no other option but to leave? To join forces with Decepticons?
How could their Prime let Hound die?
Bumblebee hadn't been there for that either. But Sideswipe told him. As it is, Sides is the only one who bothers to keep Bee updated about. He didn't even know Ratchet had absconded with a bunch of ‘Cons and Drift until Sides contacted him.
They don't let him know about new arrivals either. They don't call for him when they go all over the world to take down ‘Cons. They don't tell him about ‘Con arrivals.
At first, Bee blames himself. He extends his absences from the base, citing the need to watch over Sam. He puts distance between himself and the others because all of the empty spaces beside Optimus rattle too strongly within him. He can't look at Optimus without thinking of his hulking black shadow or the small silver form lurking in the background. He can't look at Dino without thinking of the shiny new modification courtesy of their resident inventor.
Maybe he has asked for too much distance. Maybe in giving him what he wants, he has brought this upon himself.
Ratchet is gone, and Bee hasn't a clue why, save for the niggling uncertainty he gets whenever he's within field-range of their Prime. There's an odd blankness in his optics, and the last time Optimus reached for him, Bee had skittered out from under his hand on instinct alone. He doesn't know why, only able to sit down and process his actions later.
Vile.
That's what he remembers. The vile trill in Optimus’ field had grated against his overly-sensitive scanners. He registered as Threat and Enemy, and his automatic protocols had responded as they were programmed to do. Programmed by Jazz, point of fact.
Bee had been horrified, at himself, at his Prime. His instinct had been to attack Optimus, to defend himself from a perceived threat. That horror had caused him to flee. He made the excuse of tending to Sam, while all the while alarmed by his own reaction.
Only later did he realize it wasn't a mistake. Only later, when Sides told him that Ratchet had left did it all start to make a perilous sort of sense.
There is something wrong with Optimus, and Ratchet was the first to notice. And if Ratchet can't fix it, what hope is there for the Autobots?
Prowl too has left, which is all the convincing Bee needs that Ratchet had been acting of his own accord. That Ratchet had been right. If even Prowl, ever-logical, ever-loyal, believes that their Prime is broken, then it must be true.
Bee's comm beeps. He expects to find Sideswipe's ident code attached to it and wobbles on his tires when he realizes it is Optimus instead. That he is alarmed in the first place should be a point of concern.
“Yes, sir?”
--You must return to base,-- Optimus says with no preamble, no casual conversation as used to be the norm. He doesn't ask how Bee is coping or how Sam is faring.
Once upon a time he would have.
“Sir?” He feigns confusion.
--You have been absent too long. There’s much we must discuss.--
So formal. Bee aches to hear it. Optimus' vocals are odd through the comm as it is, but they sound even more foreign to him.
“Yes, sir,” Bee replies, but his internals twitch to ask Optimus explain. However, Bee suspects the time when he could be so frank with his leader has passed. “I’ll finish my business here and be in Chicago as soon as I can. Will you be sending a replacement to guard Sam?”
--I don’t believe that the Decepticons present a threat to Samuel any longer,-- Optimus replies, vocals coming as through the end of a long tunnel. --Guardianship is no longer needed.--
Disappointment curdles within Bee, and he twitches again on his tires.
“Will I not be allowed to see Sam anymore?”
--Of course, you will. I simply meant that guarding him will no longer be our first priority.--
He sounds like Mearing. And that realization sits in Bee's tanks like lead, uncomfortable and disorientating.
“Yes, sir.”
Bee is done with this conversation as of yesterday. He's not even face to face with his Prime, and he already feels as though he's speaking to a stranger. He's half-afraid of what he will see when he returns to Chicago.
“Is there anything else?”
--No. I will tell the soldiers to look for your arrival. Optimus out.--
The comm goes dead and hisses like static. Bee closes down his end. He fights off a shiver, shaking his alt-mode as though throwing off bad vibes.
Is there no way he can avoid going to Chicago? Where's a ‘Con attack or invasion when he needs one?
Bumblebee sinks down on his tires, undercarriage bare inches from the cold cement. He wishes Ironhide were still here. His former trainer would know what to do. Of course, Hide would wrestle Optimus down and make Ratchet run scans. He'd have realized long ago that something isn't quite right.
He misses Jolt, too. Arcee. Que.
And Primus… Jazz.
Sorrow revisits. It strikes his spark in all the ways Bee has been trying to avoid since Mission City five years ago.
Jazz wouldn't have stood for this either. He would've done something, would've noticed the weird behavior sooner. He would’ve been an open audial for Bee. He would’ve fixed everything while all Bee can do is keep on hiding in Sam's basement, listening to him argue with his girlfriend.
The lift to the basement creaks and rattles as someone above activates it, riding it down to the basement where Bee stays. It won't be Carly, Bee knows, and it won't be Wheelie or Brains either. They never found the two mechlets, and he suspects they never will. Either they died in the battle and were unrecoverable, or some scavenger had picked up their frames as souvenirs.
Sometimes, Bee really hates humans. Save for one.
Sam comes into view. A blanket is slung over one shoulder, and a pillow is clutched under an arm. His hair is sticking in all directions, and dark-circles are under his eyes. He steps out of the lift. The gate rattles and clanks behind him.
“Hey, buddy,” he says with a forced smile. “Mind if I crash with you for the night?”
Bee clicks open his door in wordless offer. “I never do. Though it does seem to be getting a habit.”
“Yeah, well, it's getting mighty cold in my bed upstairs,” Sam returns, rubbing a hand over the back of his head before he climbs into Bee's the backseat.
He wriggles around, adjusting his blankets and pillow to his liking, cursing a little at the cramped space. Camaros aren't exactly built for sleeping.
“I don't mind the company,” Bee replies, turning on his heaters so that Sam doesn't catch a cold.
“We really need to move somewhere else. You staying down here isn't fair to anyone,” Sam replies, thumping his head back against the pillow once he gets comfortable. “You don't go back to base much anymore either. What's up with that?”
Bee debates. He hasn't really told his human about anything going on in Chicago. Optimus hasn't said it was classified, and he doesn't care what Mearing has to say about it, but he still hesitates.
“It's not somewhere I want to be right now.”
“Why not?”
Bumblebee cycles a ventilation, something rustling in his internals that probably requires Ratchet's attention – an impossibility.
“It is full of strangers.”
Sam folds his arms behind his head. “Why didn't you tell me there were new arrivals?”
“There aren't. Or at least, there were but aren't anymore.” Bee resigns himself. Talking to Sam is better than keeping it to himself. “Prowl and Sunstreaker and Hound arrived a year ago, but since then, Hound has died, and Prowl disappeared.”
Sam startles. “Wait. What?”
“I don't understand it myself. Ratchet and a new arrival named Drift left with some ‘Cons six months after the battle in Chicago. And now, Prowl's vanished, too.” Bee sighs, so many of his new mannerisms picked up from all his interactions with Sam.
“That's just...” He feels more than sees Sam shake his head. “Why didn't I know this?”
“I only know because of Sideswipe. Perhaps Optimus doesn't want me to know, or maybe he simply forgot to inform me.”
Sam's mouth opens and closes, his incredulous stare focused on Bee's radio. “Forgot?” he splutters. “How could Optimus Prime forget one of his own soldiers?”
“Why would Ratchet leave?” Bee asks instead, though he has his suspicions. “I don't think any of us understand Optimus anymore.”
“Bee, that's...” Sam rubs his face. “I don't even have words for that. What's going on?”
“I suspect I'll find out soon enough.” Bee's sigh echoes through his interior. “Optimus has requested that I return to base. Something has happened, though he wouldn't tell me what. I might try and comm Sideswipe later for answers.”
Sam frowns. “It's not the ‘Cons. We would have heard about that by now, if they were back.” He pauses and clutches the blankets tighter around him. “Can they come back?”
“Megatron's dead.”
Not that it stopped him before.
“So are the members of his command. I couldn't even tell you who is next in line.” Bumblebee's systems click as he adjusts his interior temperature for Sam. “I don't know who is still alive. I don't know if there are any more 'Cons out there or if they'd come here for revenge.”
He doesn't, Bee realizes, know much of anything.
“I do know that Optimus intends to protect Earth and its inhabitants. He intends to make this our new home.”
Not that they have any other options. Bee was there. His shots had done the worst damage to Sentinel’s device. He’d done it to protect Sam, and he hadn't allowed himself to consider what he was sacrificing.
Could this too be a reason for Ratchet leaving? For Prowl joining him as well?
“Bee?”
“Sorry, Sam. I was...” He trails off. Sam is an adult now, but he's still so young. “I hope that your people can accept us, allow us to build a new home.”
Sam pats the seat, his favorite way to show affection. “I'm sure they will, Bee. You deserve it.” He snuggles down, obviously intending to sleep. “Can I come with you?”
If only…
“I don't think that's a good idea. Mearing won't like it, and Optimus...” Bee bites back a frustrated huff of his vents. “I wouldn’t trust your safety there.”
“Who do you think would hurt me?”
Bumblebee lapses into silence. He doesn't know how to answer that question. He doesn't know how to admit that he can't trust his own kind or even Sam's. What does it mean that he feels he can't trust anyone, save Sam?
“Bee?”
He cycles a ventilation. “I don't know. Circumstances have changed. The world has changed. I can't account for anything anymore.”
Sam’s fingers are soft on his seat. Tracing a circle.
“I trust that you'll protect me.”
Fatigue washes over and through Bumblebee, fatigue that has nothing to do with physical exertion.
“And I don't trust that I'll be allowed to,” Bee murmurs.
He can feel Sam go rigid, tense with fear. “What does that even mean?”
“I wish I knew.” Bee tries to project a calm he doesn't feel. Humans can't sense fields, but Sam used to say that he could feel something when he's around Bee. “I'd be happier if you stayed here. It's better all around.”
“Yeah, I think so, too.” Sam sighs. “Is there anything I can do to help? I mean, I know I'm just the messenger.” He can't quite hide the bitterness in his tone. Those taunts had struck deep for all that Sam tries to forget them.
“No. Thanks for the offer.”
“Anytime, Bee. You're the best friend a guy like me could have ever had.” Hints of a smile curl Sam's lips.
A brief surge of happiness dances through Bumblebee's spark at the admission. He’d stay here forever if Sam – and Optimus – would let him. Stay and be loved like he never quite has been before.
“You too, Sam,” he whispers and dims his interior lights. “Sleep well.”
It’s all the permission Sam needs. The young man makes a murmur of agreement, burrowing deeper into the blankets. Whatever is going on between he and Carly is clearly not a matter he wishes to discuss. At this point, Bee isn’t certain it’s something that can be fixed anyway. Carly isn’t Mikaela, after all. She’s soft where the other was hard. Fragile where the other was strong.
Not that it mattered in the end.
He often wonders how different Sam's life would have been had the Allspark and the Cybertronians not entered into it. Would he be happier? Would Earth be a happier place?
Where would their species be if Bee hadn't tracked the Allspark to this planet? Would they still be battling the Decepticons endlessly?
Is this the better end?
“Sam?”
“Yeah?”
There’s a sleepy quality to the boy's voice now. He really is about to doze off. Bee debates whether or not he wants to actually bother him, but no time like the present. Human lives are so short...
“Do you ever regret getting into the car?”
Sam sits up like a bolt of lightning. “What the hell kind of question is that?”
Bee ventilates a burst of warm air into his interior. “A valid one. Your life has been nothing but tumultuous since we crashed into it.”
Sam throws the blanket over his head and burrows into Bumblebee's backseat, as though purposefully tickling his interior.
“Yeah, you guys have been trouble from day one. Nearly got me killed a couple times. I even died once. Lost a girlfriend, maybe two. Can't find a job. My parents are more paranoid than usual. Yeah, you've made my life difficult as hell.”
Sam breathes in and out, a steadying sound. One hand slips out from beneath the blanket to pat Bumblebee's door.
“But I'd do it all over again in a heartbeat. It's been crazy, but it's been worth it.”
A tension Bee didn't realize he was carrying eases out of his shocks. He relaxes fully on his tires, spark tremors quieting.
“Thank you, Sam. I think I needed to hear that.”
“Something wrong?” His words are muffled through the blanket, but the concern in his tone is genuine.
“Nothing I can put into words.”
Nothing Sam would understand. Sam can't make this decision for him.
Sam's hand disappears back under the blanket, and Bee cycles a few more bursts of heat into his interior. It gets freezing down here in the basement.
“Hey, Bee? What about you? Ever regret meeting the spastic kid with overprotective parents?”
A chuckle vibrates through his systems. “No.” Bee sobers his emotions, relaxing his sensors. “I regret the pain we’ve caused you and your planet. But I do not regret coming here.”
“Well, at least we have each other then,” Sam says, and his breathing starts to even. His voice drifts away into the night. “That's something.”
Yes, Bee agrees. That is something indeed.
He sets his scanners to minimal warning and puts most of his systems on standby, including his comms. Only an emergency would come through.
I am sorry, Ratchet. I can't join you yet.
He is Sam's guardian, after all, and Bumblebee won't abandon that task. There’s little he has left to cling to anymore, and Bee can't abandon what he still has. For now, he will stay with Sam.
Sixty, seventy years in the future… well, he can make that decision then.
***
a/n: So. Drift will definitely be next. Then Sideswipe. Then Ratchet's epilogue to round out the series. All I'm waiting on now is the beta. Maybe in August. Maybe September. It all depends on how her schedule works out. :)
Feedback, as always, is welcome and appreciated.
Title: War Without End – Bumblebee
Universe: Bayverse, post-DotM, canon-compliant
Characters: Bumblebee, Sam Witwicky, Optimus Prime
Rating: T
Warnings: mentions of character death, angst/mourning
Desc: He doesn't know who Optimus is anymore, and the Autobots are but strangers.
They are fighting again. Their argument trickles down the floors to Bumblebee's audials, clear as day. Sometimes, he thinks they forget how fine his sensors are, how he has to tone them down to ensure he's not focusing on the irrelevant. He has several subroutines running constantly, just to filter out the extraneous.
Sam and Carly's voices have never been considered irrelevant. They are a comfort to him, a familiar tone in an ocean of unfamiliarity.
Bee's engine purrs, and he sinks lower on his shocks. He could shift to his root mode, but what's the point of sitting by himself, staring into the dark. He might as well conserve energy by keeping this form.
They are arguing again. Sometimes, Bee's not even sure there's a root cause. Maybe they argue for the sake of arguing.
Sam's angry, and Carly's scared, and the distance between them gets larger and larger every day. Sam's feelings of inadequacy grow, fuel to the fire, and Carly's inability to understand only worsens things.
Bee misses Mikaela. For all that she up and left them one day without answer, without explanation, that doesn't mean he's forgotten her.
But he doesn't want to compare Mikaela and Carly. It's not for him to decide who Sam should spend his life with. Mikaela was an important friend. Carly was approaching that… but maybe, not so much anymore.
The war is over, Optimus says. They should be free to build lives for themselves, enjoy peace-time. Relax and recover.
The war is over, but Ratchet’s gone. Prowl left shortly after. The war is over, and they’re still hunting down Decepticons, and Bee doesn't know who Optimus is anymore. He doesn't return to base because hearing Sam and Carly argue is still better than feeling the sheer wrongness in Optimus' field.
Bee can't explain it, and he's not even sure when it started. Not soon after the battle in Chicago maybe. Or even earlier and he just didn't notice because he spent so much time being anywhere else but there. It was only the down-time, the soft moments between one ‘Con encounter and the next, when Optimus' behavior seemed unusual.
Not so much anymore.
What had been the last straw for Ratchet? Why had he gone?
Bee remembers the last time he'd seen the medic. He'd gone in for some routine maintenance, and Ratchet had fixed the last of what was broken or needing repair. He had a new vocalizer, refurbished from a ‘Con but better than nothing. Ratchet too had acted strangely, distracted and deep in thought, but there'd been nothing to indicate his future intentions.
How much should he worry? How broken is their leader that not even Ratchet could fix him? That Ratchet felt there was no other option but to leave? To join forces with Decepticons?
How could their Prime let Hound die?
Bumblebee hadn't been there for that either. But Sideswipe told him. As it is, Sides is the only one who bothers to keep Bee updated about. He didn't even know Ratchet had absconded with a bunch of ‘Cons and Drift until Sides contacted him.
They don't let him know about new arrivals either. They don't call for him when they go all over the world to take down ‘Cons. They don't tell him about ‘Con arrivals.
At first, Bee blames himself. He extends his absences from the base, citing the need to watch over Sam. He puts distance between himself and the others because all of the empty spaces beside Optimus rattle too strongly within him. He can't look at Optimus without thinking of his hulking black shadow or the small silver form lurking in the background. He can't look at Dino without thinking of the shiny new modification courtesy of their resident inventor.
Maybe he has asked for too much distance. Maybe in giving him what he wants, he has brought this upon himself.
Ratchet is gone, and Bee hasn't a clue why, save for the niggling uncertainty he gets whenever he's within field-range of their Prime. There's an odd blankness in his optics, and the last time Optimus reached for him, Bee had skittered out from under his hand on instinct alone. He doesn't know why, only able to sit down and process his actions later.
Vile.
That's what he remembers. The vile trill in Optimus’ field had grated against his overly-sensitive scanners. He registered as Threat and Enemy, and his automatic protocols had responded as they were programmed to do. Programmed by Jazz, point of fact.
Bee had been horrified, at himself, at his Prime. His instinct had been to attack Optimus, to defend himself from a perceived threat. That horror had caused him to flee. He made the excuse of tending to Sam, while all the while alarmed by his own reaction.
Only later did he realize it wasn't a mistake. Only later, when Sides told him that Ratchet had left did it all start to make a perilous sort of sense.
There is something wrong with Optimus, and Ratchet was the first to notice. And if Ratchet can't fix it, what hope is there for the Autobots?
Prowl too has left, which is all the convincing Bee needs that Ratchet had been acting of his own accord. That Ratchet had been right. If even Prowl, ever-logical, ever-loyal, believes that their Prime is broken, then it must be true.
Bee's comm beeps. He expects to find Sideswipe's ident code attached to it and wobbles on his tires when he realizes it is Optimus instead. That he is alarmed in the first place should be a point of concern.
“Yes, sir?”
--You must return to base,-- Optimus says with no preamble, no casual conversation as used to be the norm. He doesn't ask how Bee is coping or how Sam is faring.
Once upon a time he would have.
“Sir?” He feigns confusion.
--You have been absent too long. There’s much we must discuss.--
So formal. Bee aches to hear it. Optimus' vocals are odd through the comm as it is, but they sound even more foreign to him.
“Yes, sir,” Bee replies, but his internals twitch to ask Optimus explain. However, Bee suspects the time when he could be so frank with his leader has passed. “I’ll finish my business here and be in Chicago as soon as I can. Will you be sending a replacement to guard Sam?”
--I don’t believe that the Decepticons present a threat to Samuel any longer,-- Optimus replies, vocals coming as through the end of a long tunnel. --Guardianship is no longer needed.--
Disappointment curdles within Bee, and he twitches again on his tires.
“Will I not be allowed to see Sam anymore?”
--Of course, you will. I simply meant that guarding him will no longer be our first priority.--
He sounds like Mearing. And that realization sits in Bee's tanks like lead, uncomfortable and disorientating.
“Yes, sir.”
Bee is done with this conversation as of yesterday. He's not even face to face with his Prime, and he already feels as though he's speaking to a stranger. He's half-afraid of what he will see when he returns to Chicago.
“Is there anything else?”
--No. I will tell the soldiers to look for your arrival. Optimus out.--
The comm goes dead and hisses like static. Bee closes down his end. He fights off a shiver, shaking his alt-mode as though throwing off bad vibes.
Is there no way he can avoid going to Chicago? Where's a ‘Con attack or invasion when he needs one?
Bumblebee sinks down on his tires, undercarriage bare inches from the cold cement. He wishes Ironhide were still here. His former trainer would know what to do. Of course, Hide would wrestle Optimus down and make Ratchet run scans. He'd have realized long ago that something isn't quite right.
He misses Jolt, too. Arcee. Que.
And Primus… Jazz.
Sorrow revisits. It strikes his spark in all the ways Bee has been trying to avoid since Mission City five years ago.
Jazz wouldn't have stood for this either. He would've done something, would've noticed the weird behavior sooner. He would’ve been an open audial for Bee. He would’ve fixed everything while all Bee can do is keep on hiding in Sam's basement, listening to him argue with his girlfriend.
The lift to the basement creaks and rattles as someone above activates it, riding it down to the basement where Bee stays. It won't be Carly, Bee knows, and it won't be Wheelie or Brains either. They never found the two mechlets, and he suspects they never will. Either they died in the battle and were unrecoverable, or some scavenger had picked up their frames as souvenirs.
Sometimes, Bee really hates humans. Save for one.
Sam comes into view. A blanket is slung over one shoulder, and a pillow is clutched under an arm. His hair is sticking in all directions, and dark-circles are under his eyes. He steps out of the lift. The gate rattles and clanks behind him.
“Hey, buddy,” he says with a forced smile. “Mind if I crash with you for the night?”
Bee clicks open his door in wordless offer. “I never do. Though it does seem to be getting a habit.”
“Yeah, well, it's getting mighty cold in my bed upstairs,” Sam returns, rubbing a hand over the back of his head before he climbs into Bee's the backseat.
He wriggles around, adjusting his blankets and pillow to his liking, cursing a little at the cramped space. Camaros aren't exactly built for sleeping.
“I don't mind the company,” Bee replies, turning on his heaters so that Sam doesn't catch a cold.
“We really need to move somewhere else. You staying down here isn't fair to anyone,” Sam replies, thumping his head back against the pillow once he gets comfortable. “You don't go back to base much anymore either. What's up with that?”
Bee debates. He hasn't really told his human about anything going on in Chicago. Optimus hasn't said it was classified, and he doesn't care what Mearing has to say about it, but he still hesitates.
“It's not somewhere I want to be right now.”
“Why not?”
Bumblebee cycles a ventilation, something rustling in his internals that probably requires Ratchet's attention – an impossibility.
“It is full of strangers.”
Sam folds his arms behind his head. “Why didn't you tell me there were new arrivals?”
“There aren't. Or at least, there were but aren't anymore.” Bee resigns himself. Talking to Sam is better than keeping it to himself. “Prowl and Sunstreaker and Hound arrived a year ago, but since then, Hound has died, and Prowl disappeared.”
Sam startles. “Wait. What?”
“I don't understand it myself. Ratchet and a new arrival named Drift left with some ‘Cons six months after the battle in Chicago. And now, Prowl's vanished, too.” Bee sighs, so many of his new mannerisms picked up from all his interactions with Sam.
“That's just...” He feels more than sees Sam shake his head. “Why didn't I know this?”
“I only know because of Sideswipe. Perhaps Optimus doesn't want me to know, or maybe he simply forgot to inform me.”
Sam's mouth opens and closes, his incredulous stare focused on Bee's radio. “Forgot?” he splutters. “How could Optimus Prime forget one of his own soldiers?”
“Why would Ratchet leave?” Bee asks instead, though he has his suspicions. “I don't think any of us understand Optimus anymore.”
“Bee, that's...” Sam rubs his face. “I don't even have words for that. What's going on?”
“I suspect I'll find out soon enough.” Bee's sigh echoes through his interior. “Optimus has requested that I return to base. Something has happened, though he wouldn't tell me what. I might try and comm Sideswipe later for answers.”
Sam frowns. “It's not the ‘Cons. We would have heard about that by now, if they were back.” He pauses and clutches the blankets tighter around him. “Can they come back?”
“Megatron's dead.”
Not that it stopped him before.
“So are the members of his command. I couldn't even tell you who is next in line.” Bumblebee's systems click as he adjusts his interior temperature for Sam. “I don't know who is still alive. I don't know if there are any more 'Cons out there or if they'd come here for revenge.”
He doesn't, Bee realizes, know much of anything.
“I do know that Optimus intends to protect Earth and its inhabitants. He intends to make this our new home.”
Not that they have any other options. Bee was there. His shots had done the worst damage to Sentinel’s device. He’d done it to protect Sam, and he hadn't allowed himself to consider what he was sacrificing.
Could this too be a reason for Ratchet leaving? For Prowl joining him as well?
“Bee?”
“Sorry, Sam. I was...” He trails off. Sam is an adult now, but he's still so young. “I hope that your people can accept us, allow us to build a new home.”
Sam pats the seat, his favorite way to show affection. “I'm sure they will, Bee. You deserve it.” He snuggles down, obviously intending to sleep. “Can I come with you?”
If only…
“I don't think that's a good idea. Mearing won't like it, and Optimus...” Bee bites back a frustrated huff of his vents. “I wouldn’t trust your safety there.”
“Who do you think would hurt me?”
Bumblebee lapses into silence. He doesn't know how to answer that question. He doesn't know how to admit that he can't trust his own kind or even Sam's. What does it mean that he feels he can't trust anyone, save Sam?
“Bee?”
He cycles a ventilation. “I don't know. Circumstances have changed. The world has changed. I can't account for anything anymore.”
Sam’s fingers are soft on his seat. Tracing a circle.
“I trust that you'll protect me.”
Fatigue washes over and through Bumblebee, fatigue that has nothing to do with physical exertion.
“And I don't trust that I'll be allowed to,” Bee murmurs.
He can feel Sam go rigid, tense with fear. “What does that even mean?”
“I wish I knew.” Bee tries to project a calm he doesn't feel. Humans can't sense fields, but Sam used to say that he could feel something when he's around Bee. “I'd be happier if you stayed here. It's better all around.”
“Yeah, I think so, too.” Sam sighs. “Is there anything I can do to help? I mean, I know I'm just the messenger.” He can't quite hide the bitterness in his tone. Those taunts had struck deep for all that Sam tries to forget them.
“No. Thanks for the offer.”
“Anytime, Bee. You're the best friend a guy like me could have ever had.” Hints of a smile curl Sam's lips.
A brief surge of happiness dances through Bumblebee's spark at the admission. He’d stay here forever if Sam – and Optimus – would let him. Stay and be loved like he never quite has been before.
“You too, Sam,” he whispers and dims his interior lights. “Sleep well.”
It’s all the permission Sam needs. The young man makes a murmur of agreement, burrowing deeper into the blankets. Whatever is going on between he and Carly is clearly not a matter he wishes to discuss. At this point, Bee isn’t certain it’s something that can be fixed anyway. Carly isn’t Mikaela, after all. She’s soft where the other was hard. Fragile where the other was strong.
Not that it mattered in the end.
He often wonders how different Sam's life would have been had the Allspark and the Cybertronians not entered into it. Would he be happier? Would Earth be a happier place?
Where would their species be if Bee hadn't tracked the Allspark to this planet? Would they still be battling the Decepticons endlessly?
Is this the better end?
“Sam?”
“Yeah?”
There’s a sleepy quality to the boy's voice now. He really is about to doze off. Bee debates whether or not he wants to actually bother him, but no time like the present. Human lives are so short...
“Do you ever regret getting into the car?”
Sam sits up like a bolt of lightning. “What the hell kind of question is that?”
Bee ventilates a burst of warm air into his interior. “A valid one. Your life has been nothing but tumultuous since we crashed into it.”
Sam throws the blanket over his head and burrows into Bumblebee's backseat, as though purposefully tickling his interior.
“Yeah, you guys have been trouble from day one. Nearly got me killed a couple times. I even died once. Lost a girlfriend, maybe two. Can't find a job. My parents are more paranoid than usual. Yeah, you've made my life difficult as hell.”
Sam breathes in and out, a steadying sound. One hand slips out from beneath the blanket to pat Bumblebee's door.
“But I'd do it all over again in a heartbeat. It's been crazy, but it's been worth it.”
A tension Bee didn't realize he was carrying eases out of his shocks. He relaxes fully on his tires, spark tremors quieting.
“Thank you, Sam. I think I needed to hear that.”
“Something wrong?” His words are muffled through the blanket, but the concern in his tone is genuine.
“Nothing I can put into words.”
Nothing Sam would understand. Sam can't make this decision for him.
Sam's hand disappears back under the blanket, and Bee cycles a few more bursts of heat into his interior. It gets freezing down here in the basement.
“Hey, Bee? What about you? Ever regret meeting the spastic kid with overprotective parents?”
A chuckle vibrates through his systems. “No.” Bee sobers his emotions, relaxing his sensors. “I regret the pain we’ve caused you and your planet. But I do not regret coming here.”
“Well, at least we have each other then,” Sam says, and his breathing starts to even. His voice drifts away into the night. “That's something.”
Yes, Bee agrees. That is something indeed.
He sets his scanners to minimal warning and puts most of his systems on standby, including his comms. Only an emergency would come through.
I am sorry, Ratchet. I can't join you yet.
He is Sam's guardian, after all, and Bumblebee won't abandon that task. There’s little he has left to cling to anymore, and Bee can't abandon what he still has. For now, he will stay with Sam.
Sixty, seventy years in the future… well, he can make that decision then.
a/n: So. Drift will definitely be next. Then Sideswipe. Then Ratchet's epilogue to round out the series. All I'm waiting on now is the beta. Maybe in August. Maybe September. It all depends on how her schedule works out. :)
Feedback, as always, is welcome and appreciated.
