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Long after the sun had dipped below the horizon, rusty sky having bled into darkness and filled with stars, the Autobot base was finally silent. It had been a long solar cycle for all of the bots, filled with tension so thick Unicron himself, deep in the planet's core, could have tasted it. The Decepticons had been hinting that larger plans were soon, including several energon spikes and bridging themselves all over the earth, searching...but the Autobots didn't know what for.
It was past Jasper's midnight hour when Optimus had relented in his efforts of creating offensive and defensive strategies with his team, told them all to get a good recharge, that they would begin again once everyone had time to cool down. Despite their leader's comforting tone, Team Prime had went to berth uneasily, feeling spark-heavy, especially a certain scout.
Bumblebee's optics slowly unshuttered, onlining reluctantly. Another fruitless attempt to recharge. The darkness of his small quarters greeted him, a soft orange light in the very corner casting a relaxing glow across the room - it was a lava lamp that Raf had given him, a friendship present. Bumblebee had been all ecstatic beeps when they dusted it off and plugged it in, shapeless clouds drifting and bumping around in a glowing orange liquid. Watching it had been calming, and Bumblebee watched it now in hopes that it would lull him into the recharge he desperately wanted.
The rise in Decepticon activity had set Bee on edge, to say the least. A constant blade of paranoia, small and thin and jagged, was always pressed against his processor. Every bump in the night was a Decepticon come to rip his spark out, and Bee's reactions had gotten so hair-lined that once he shifted his cannons at Arcee, reflexively, optics wide with panic and the drive to battle. Thankfully, Bulkhead had been there to jostle some sense into the scout and Arcee had accepted his fervent apologies.
Within a matter of minutes, watching the lava lamp and its languid movements, Bumblebee's optics shuttered once more and he found himself being pulled into darkness by sleep...and right into Megatronus's grasp.
The Decepticon lord was glowering at him, eyes dark with frustration and a borderline homicidal anger. His clawed servo was wrapped around Bumblebee's neck, squeezing painfully and pinching neck cables. "Tell me the information I require, scout, or I will rip your spark out!" Megatronus roared into Bee's face, a hot vent of utter irritation following. Bumblebee grasped at Megatronus' wrist joints, scrabbling for purchase, trying to lift himself up so he could get just a smidge of air through his secondary intakes. He had been taken by the Decepticons through a well-planned and excellently executed ambush, dragged back to a Decepticon base to be interrogated by Megatronus himself. Despite the roared threats and harsh battery, Bee hadn't spoken a word that Megatronus wanted to hear. Adrenaline was pumping through his frame in bullets, hope for rescue a thin and dying thought, but he still didn't say a word to the silver mech. If he died, he would at least die protecting his fellow Autobots - Bee couldn't think of anything more honorable.
A few moments of silence passed before Megatronus gritted his denta together before a grin slowly spread his lip plates out. It was a powerful, feral grin that accompanied a dangerous gleam in the Lord's optics. Bumblebee squirmed, coolant beginning to well up in his optics but he refused to let it fall.
"Very well," Megatronus purred out slowly as he tightened grip on the scout's throat and brought him closer. "If you will not tell me, then perhaps you should not have the ability to speak at all." And then, another servo, clawed and silver and eager with sadistic fury, was at Bumblebee's throat, gripping and digging in and ripping and....
Bumblebee woke up in a start, throwing himself up into a sitting position. His optics were blurry and wouldn't focus, the soft blue glow of his cannons lit up the room further, and strange static filled noises assaulted his audials consistently and there was something wrapping tightly around Bee's chassis. Vaguely, after a moment of intense panicked thrashing, Bumblebee recognized a voice.
"Bee- Bee, calm down! I've got you, Bee, it's okay!"
The voice was soothing but slightly tensed, strained. Bumblebee stilled his twitching limbs and it was at that moment he realized the strange static noises were him. He was sobbing openly, coolant practically rushing down his faceplates, and it was his damaged vocalizer that was making strangled, choked noises that filled the room. Turning his helm, Bee found there was a servo wiping at his optics and once his vision cleared, Smokescreen filled it.
Cannons shifting back into servos, Bee grasped at his throat desperately and his recharge driven adrenaline was flattened by the feel of in tact cables, familiar old scars that greeted him grimly.
Smokescreen tightened his arms around the scout's chassis briefly before pulling back to continue gently clearing off his wet face plates. "Some nightmare, huh?" He tried to smile at Bumblebee, but it was hard to, so fraggin' hard when it looked like Bee's world had involuntarily collapsed on top of him. The scout was shaking, digits wrapped around his throat tightly as if to hold it there, to keep his neck cables in place. No matter how much Smokescreen wiped his faceplates, Bumblebee's optics still wet them.
Bumblebee trembled at the question before letting out a high pitched wail that struck Smokescreen within his core, and buried his face against the blue mech, arms wrapping around the other like two snakes. More sobs dabbled with static ripped from Bee's vocalizer, loud and raw and breaking apart.
Smokescreen pressed his lip plates together into tight line as he watched his teammate, his friend, wail as if his very spark was about to be extinguished. The mech ran a servo down Bee's spinal strut soothingly, and all the way up to the edge of the crest on his helm. "Whatever you dreamed about, it's over now. You're safe." Smokescreen murmured into Bee's audial, servo continuously providing comforting page and soothing strokes. It could be compared to lulling a sparkling's fear.
Once the coolant stopped escaping in fat drops, reduced to thin trickles, Bumblebee reluctantly pulled away to drag a servo over his faceplates. When he glanced up at Smokescreen, he was greeted with a warm, shaky smile. Outside his door, he could hear heavy shuffling. It sounded like anxious pedes, echoed by lighter footsteps and steady pacing. With a pinch of guilt and embarrassment, Bumblebee realized his panicked wails must have woken the rest of the base. They must have been worried.
"You okay, Bee?" Smokescreen asked softly, gently turning Bee's helm to look straight into the other's optics. Bee, with a small and barely noticeable warmth, realized the glow of Smokescreen's eyes were more comforting than the lava lamp.
« Fine. I'm fine now. » Bumblebee beeped in return slowly before looking at his door. « What about the others? Did I wake them? »
The guilt in the scout's voice was unmistakable. Nonetheless, Smokescreen offered another smile. "They all wanted to come in here, but Optimus thought it was best if I did," There was a pause before he lifted a servo to cup the side of Bee's helm. "I- What did you dream about?"
There was a pause on Bee's end. Hesitance, because now that he was faced with realization, it had been a minuscule thing to panic about. The dream, the nightmare, was simply a dark product of his paranoia and anxiety. The product was fear, and it had reopened an old wound. « I... My nightmare... Megatron was- was ripping my v-oicebox... » Static blurred Bee's response and coolant wet his plates once more.
Smokescreen understood immediately and simply pulled the scout closer as the black and yellow mech melted into sobs once more, though they were softer this time. Less violent. Bee's intakes hitched harshly and he shuddered. Smokescreen pressed his helm against the other's.
"Shh, Bee, it's okay. I've got you."