Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Morning arrived long before the sun. It came cold and terrified, sweaty, with ion cannons charging and a seeker's scream echoing; faintly accompanied by the cry of a small human in a dark bedroom in the middle of nowhere.

The cannons charging and the seeker's screams were luckily only the nightmare of them, but they were real enough to the small, sweaty man in the bed. He sat up like a bolt, hands over his ears, fingers knotted in his hair, thin ribs heaving as he worked through the panic of the night terror like he had so many others. Control your breathing. Categorize the visuals. Look around and catalogue where he actually was.

Sam looked around his bedroom, the same bedroom he'd had for almost 20 years. It was pretty spartan, as if he had just moved in rather than having spent a third of his life for the last 20 years in. He was familiar with every nook and cranny from doing this same exercise countless times since the first night he'd moved in. The bed, the dresser, the window, the closet. A picture that had hung in his mother's living room since before he was born; it was the only really humanizing touch to the room. He couldn't help but wrap his arms around his knobby knees and rest his head there while he fought back the moisture in his eyes and the air in his lungs.

Just another nightmare. It wasn’t real. It wasn't even something he remembered, maybe a new horror that his brain had constructed, maybe not.

The old wooden clock next to his bed was almost unreadable, but if he opened his eyes very wide Sam could see that it was just after 5 am. More sleep than he'd been expecting. Summer’s were the worst for the night terrors, the heat triggering memories he desperately wanted to forget even while he slept, but the other seasons weren’t much better. For a while he’d mostly had them under control but they’d gotten far worse over the last few decades to Sam's chagrin and confusion. Sleeping pills, even the spicy kind, hadn’t helped, just locked him in to the nightmare with no way of escaping until it’d run its course. 

Knowing that he’d see no further rest that morning, Sam groaned as he climbed out of the bed and popped his back and then his neck. The cold of the outdoors had seeped into his house overnight, leaving what felt like its own leaded weights in his bones as he unsteadily made his way to the bathroom. Turning on the water to warm as he used the toilet and then stripped out of his fear sweat slick clothes, he gingerly (because he was sore and so stiff) climbed into the small shower. The water was nice and hot, even if it did take a minute to get there, and he could slowly relax as the pain of the cold was exercised out of him slowly like a preacher with a devil.

Once he could move easier, he washed the stink of fear sweat off of himself and did his morning ablutions, including brushing his teeth. Why be cold and wet while brushing your teeth when you could be nice and warm? He was done too quickly; there wasn't a whole lot to wash or lollygag about. He turned off the water and hastily dried himself off before quickly going to his closet. He pulled on a thick pair of wool socks and boxer briefs, a pair of thick jeans, and three layers of shirts. He debated a cardigan on top but figured that would be overkill.

Leaving the bedroom he stepped into the great room of the cabin. Turning to the wood-burning stove he knelt down and shoved a couple chords of wood into its fat, black belly and got the fire going first. The biting cold soon to be banished by the happily curling flames. It wasn’t his favorite task but there wasn’t any alternative to it. 

Still, task accomplished, Sam could get his percolating coffee pot on the stove alongside his copper one. It would take a little while for the heat of the stove to transfer, but that was fine; Sam would be gone while the house heated up. Sam pulled his jacket on, grabbed his rifle from its place by the door, and set out on a walk around the property to get some physical exercise in.

He wasn’t in exactly running-for-your-life shape anymore, he was about as skinny as he had ever been, but it helped the anxiety and the paranoia to walk the perimeter after a bad episode and assure himself that there weren’t red optics hiding in the trees. He’d only hallucinated it once and he was such a shit shot that he’d merely scared the deer who's eyes he'd seen nearly as much as it had spooked him. His walk had him halfway around the lake that was the border of his property before his anxiety was settled back down to its baseline and he headed back, the sun now releasing crepuscular rays across the sky.

The cabin was nice and warm when he returned. He slung his jacket over the end of the couch, stepping towards the stove and grabbed his coffee cup from where it had been abandoned on the counter the day prior. Pouring himself a hot cup of mediocre coffee before raising his hands to catch some of the heat from the stove to force the stiffness out of them and prepare them for the day of work ahead of him.

His 20th novel was coming along. He’d fallen into writing as a coping mechanism after…well, after. As far as vocations went, it had been the most forgiving of the ones that he’d attempted. As long as there was product to publish, and he was communicative, he was left to his own creative devices. There was even an element of encouragement to being as weird as he was, playing into the mystique of the reclusive writer like Thoreau, Dickinson, Harper Lee to name a few.

It suited him fine.

He didn't even really need to be writing anymore; his publishers were thrilled but didn't expect him to keep at it given his advancing years. He was sure that they found his idiosyncrasies curious and confusing, not to mention occasionally frustrating, but wrote it off as the eccentricities of an old hermit. As long as he got money deposited in his account every month, he didn't really mind what they thought. He sent in his chapters regular as clockwork and responded to all correspondence from his agent and editor. That he only communicated through the mail and refused all in-person contact had been a point of contention over the years with different agents, different editors, but his books sold well so they ultimately let it go.

Now, though, they offered to let deadlines slide further on account of his age and health, which was a blessing in its own right.

Sam wasn't doing so well.

Sam hadn't been doing well for a pretty long time, actually. Sipping his coffee, he looked out over the property like he did every morning and tried not to think about anything. It worked better some days than others; most days, he was too exhausted from nightmares to have the wherewithal to do much more than look out the window, let alone contemplate anything. Contemplating tended to lead him down paths better left unwandered. He'd been pretty poorly, even by his own standards, for the last couple years in specific; but maybe that was just part of getting older - he was almost 80 after all.

Still, it was a nice day, for a Tuesday. The air was crisp, shaking off the last vestiges of winter in preparation for true Spring and the water of the lake had a soft mist that reflected almost adularescently in the early morning sun. It was perfect. It was more than he had ever thought he'd get in the hot deserts of Egypt, running for his life.

Shaking his head to cast aside that thought, he tried to ignore the churning memory as he finally turned from the window. The stove was hot in the corner, and he could hear the soft bubbling of the coffee pot as it percolated there. It would make the brew like sludge in an hour or two, but for now, it filled the small cabin with the aroma of coffee, and he certainly didn't mind that.

Standing in front of his desk for a second, he set his cup down on the old wood and sat in front of the typewriter. He reread the page he’d been making progress on the day before and then he began typing like he did every morning. Honestly, without the calendar in the kitchen he wouldn't even know what day it was. It wasn't like it really mattered out here; almost every day was the same. It was exactly what he needed after his last major episode. The bustle, the people, the noise...No, far better to put as much distance as he was able to between himself and people, cities, the modern world as he could possibly get. It only made sense.

He was six pages into his morning's work when a visitor arrived.

Sam, as a rule, didn't have guests. The groceries were delivered to his porch on Thursdays at three every week. Other than the occasional mail delivery of new ribbons for the typewriter or other incidentals, those were his only outside interactions. 

His keen ears picked up the sounds of gravel crunching under tires and tilting his head to angle it better to be able to see up the long and winding driveway showed that there was a car coming up the narrow lane, the colors causing his eyebrows to angle upwards in surprise.

A black and white, in the middle of unincorporated Washington? The closest town wasn't for another 30 miles in any direction and the sheriff's department, the only one with jurisdiction out here, only employed vehicles with a rather unsightly tan color. Sam had checked.

Concerned, Sam stood up and donned his jacket but didn't go for the front door. Instead, he backed into the kitchen which had its own small door that would allow him out the back and into the woods which, even now, were thick and dense enough that if he didn't want to be found, he wouldn't be. Not by humans at least.

He could still see the car through the window as it parked and the driver's side door swung open. The officer was a thin, white man with washed-out brown hair and a prominent mustache, a face that Sam remembered a bit too well from nightmares that he'd had for decades. The police car itself looked close enough to real that if he hadn't specifically spent time researching what made a police car legitimate and what were clues it wasn't, he'd never have noticed that this one was… well, more than meets the eye.

The knot that was developing in his throat ached painfully; it was a combination of vindication and stupefying terror. He'd been waiting for a sign, any sign of a Cybertronian for over 60 years, and suddenly it was here. He was here.

Barricade was here.

60 years was a long time, most of his life, and so much of it had been spent not living for fear of what might happen if he was right, that his memories weren't hallucinations. If he went out the kitchen door, he might never know if they were real or not.

He didn't look back as he went to the door, the front door, and opened it. The loaded rifle sat in its normal spot next to the door but he didn't grab it when he pulled the heavy door open. It wouldn't do a lick of good against a holoform or a Decepticon that size anyway. It'd put a major dent in Frenzy though if that little bastard was still kicking it with Barricade, so Sam didn't move out of range of it…just in case.

"Morning, Officer," he announced into the mid-morning air. It was warming but not by much, the little puff of mist from his breath clearly visible in the air as he spoke.

The police officer smiled up at him, the expression a bit stilted, but a reasonable facsimile. "Good morning, son. Is this the Witwicky property?" 

The man's words released no mist. While that increased his excitement, the man’s statement was a kick in the gut. 

Oh, he'd completely forgotten.

One of the first things Sam had done upon moving into the small lakeside cabin he now called home was to remove the mirror from the bathroom and anywhere else on the property. He'd removed or compromised every mirror he'd had constant access to for the last 50 years for one very important reason.

Sam hadn't aged a day since he’d woken up in his bed at 17 with the memory of buying an alien car and then saving the world a couple of times from Decepticon warlords. It was the only visible evidence that something had changed in him, that something was wrong with him. It was the reason he’d been so certain over his later years that it hadn’t all been a hallucination or a fit. It was also one of the many reasons he lived the life of a hermit in the woods in the middle of nowhere.

His pause was only fractional, but for a being who could parse petabytes of data in a second, it must have seemed like a long time. Still, Sam nodded. "Yeah, this is the Witwicky property."

The officer's eyes widened before he smiled again. "Great. It's so far out in the middle of nowhere I almost couldn't find it." He laughed, running his hand through his hair. It was great acting, Sam had to admit. "I was hoping to see if your…Grandfather was in?" The officer asked.

Sam smirked shakily, even as his chest tightened. "Got a warrant?"

The officer's face froze for too long of a moment before he frowned. "Hold on just a second there, son, I was just hoping to have a friendly conversation. Can you grab your grandfather for me, please? I don't want to have to escalate this without reason."

It was weird to see Barricade acting so restrained; the Decepticon wasn't well known for his patience, and while this cop wasn't exactly being the most magnanimous that Sam had seen in a human, he definitely was by the standard that Sam knew Baricade's normally would take.

Sam folded his arms and rested against the door frame. "What do you want with him?" He asked curiously. At this point, he would have expected to be under Barricade's servo with a charged blaster cannon pointed into his face and that the mech hadn't made any moves to do so yet was making Sam bolder than he should be.

The officer gritted his teeth in a smile, and props to the mech - it looked genuinely annoyed. "I had some questions for him about an incident in town a couple days ago. Seems someone caught him backing his car into a sedan at the grocery store."

Sam glanced at the 1930 Lincoln Zephyr under cover at the back of the house, kept in good condition and runnable with only an engine and lights, nothing else, as the battery was removed after every use and stored on a cement block either under the house or inside if it was particularly cold, and raised a brow at the officer. "Car hasn't moved in over two months, wanna try again, officer…?"

The officer scowled. "Where is your grandpa, kid?” He asked, clearly losing patience. 

Sam was almost having fun, the adrenaline pumping through his veins like a sirens call, even if his heart felt like it was going to burst out of his chest. "Are we cutting the crap then, Officer Barricade?" he asked curiously and the 'man' went utterly still, his eyes locked on Sam.

It felt like an eternity but it was only about five seconds before the officer leaned back on his heels and took in the full presence of Sam with a penetrating gaze. But Sam wasn't looking at him anymore; he was looking at the car up the incline that was watching him in return, he was sure. "How do you know that name, son?" The officer responded, hands loose at his sides but eyes almost tight with tension.

Sam shrugged. "You can dismiss it now. It was a good attempt, but the devils really in the details and yours are 🎵wrong🎵." He called, waving at the holoform. "What are you doing here, Barricade?"

There was a moment when he thought he'd read the situation wrong, that he was hallucinating or, heaven forbid, had finally lost it. Then there was a noise, familiar like a childhood nursery rhyme, as a transformation cog engaged and the police car moved and changed like only a Cybertronian could, the holoform disappearing entirely in a moment of blue electrical static.

Sam could die happy now knowing he was right. He probably would too; Barricade had nearly succeeded in killing him when he was still an actual kid and he certainly didn't have a huge Autobot defender this time around.

The 18’ mech rose to his full height between the sleepy pine trees on either side of the drive, pushing them out of his face as he walked down and into the clearing around the house, his red (and blue?) optics trained on Sam as he slid a little bit down the embankment as steadily as his tonnage would allow.

He had to crouch a little to keep Sam in view as he navigated the terrain before stopping about 20 feet from the porch steps. "You know my designation--" he said thoughtfully, "--and yet you do not run from me screaming."

Sam laughed a little. "Done enough of that in this lifetime and the last," he said cryptically. "You planning on chasing me through the woods if I did?"

Barricade's facial plates gave a better impression of a frown than his holoform had. "We are not permitted wanton destruction," he said in clear exasperation.

It was Sam's turn to stare at the big mech in bafflement. "Permitted? Since when does a Decepticon need permission to commit gross acts of property damage?" He asked incredulously with a laugh.

The mech, if anything, became even more confused, puffing up his chest plates in a display of disquiet or discomfort. "How do you know that term?" He demanded. Sam, who was enjoying this more than he'd ever imagined in his most desperate daydreams, smiled.

"I know a few things," he chuckled before looking up at the big mech soberly. "How is the Great War going?" He finally had to ask, a silently screaming part of his mind that had been persistently demanding answers for 60 years finally having an outlet to simply ask.

Barricade’s armor settled down, and then the mech himself settled on a large boulder on the side of the incline that was simply too big be moved, resting his forearms on his knee joints. "If I tell you, will you tell me something?" He asked, and Sam was taken aback by his reasonable tone. Barricade wasn't supposed to be reasonable; it was hard for his already delicate sense of reality to even comprehend.

Sam wrapped his arms around his middle. "If I can." he finally settled on.

The mech's optics narrowed, but he nodded. "The Great War is over. It has been over for thousands of your planet's cycles," he vented, "Our leader--" he cut to look at Sam, and Sam responded with a quiet ‘Megatron’ at the silent invitation, "--Megatron, fell into this system's star after leaving a black hole in pursuit of…an artifact.” He vented a sigh at that. “He'd been too injured before the approach to avoid the star’s gravity and was drawn in over a million earth cycles ago. With Megatron officially gone, the factions fought amongst themselves for a couple hundred thousand years before an armistice was reached. We are one Cybertron once more." He waved his hands in a strange way as he said that with the air of someone who had read the company tagline enough times to be sick of it. 

Sam though. For Sam, the Great War had been raging on since he was a teenager waking in terror in the middle of the night to red optics and shattered spark chambers. The knowledge that it was over, that it had been over longer than he'd been alive by such a magnitude, was incomprehensible.

He sat down, his heart in his chest beating like a drum solo, his eyes watering. "It's…it's really over?" He asked. Though he knew he shouldn't believe Barricade on principle, a part of him was so desperate for any information that if he'd been lied to, which was likely, he almost didn’t want to know. The mech was watching him, his face plates weary but definitely curious. "Megatron is really…” He licked his chapped lips. “He's gone?"

In his nightmares he'd seen Megatron so many times, so many ways. Some from memories of his own…some not. The idea that his larger than life villain, the boogeyman, the being of nightmares rendered into smelt by falling into the gravity well of a star was almost unfathomable.

Raising a ridge on what would be a brow to a human, the mech shrugged. "Seems that way. He left a distress beacon near Mercury's orbit, but the solar radiation negated the long-range effects, so no one discovered it until around 800,000 years ago. Then all hell broke loose for a while, but over time we realized at some point we were exterminating ourselves for no comprehensible, let alone sane, reason." He gazed out over the lake. "We went from billions to only a few hundred thousand during the War. The Well of Sparks--" he gazed at Sam again, to see if Sam knew what he was talking about and Sam nodded, “--has been dry since before the war. No sparklings meant no new mechs meant no more soldiers. The reserves ran out. It became a true war of attrition. Factions completely wiped out because there were no soldiers left to fill their ranks anymore.” 

Sam stared at Barricade, the brutal reality described so… logically, so sensibly making his cold bones chill. "So many just gone." He shuddered.

Barricade regarded him for a time while he had his existential crisis. 

Sam, as a human, couldn't understand the reality of that kind of extinction. Humans bred so prolifically that the idea that one day it could just stop, and they'd have to deal with that realization, didn't even compute. The idea that even a race that was functionally immortal could no longer repopulate itself after such a long and bloody war…

But what about the AllSpark? If Barricade was real, then surely the AllSpark was real too. Megatron had come to his solar system before looking for it, it couldn't be a coincidence, could it?

He'd been looking for an artifact Barricade had said. What more important artifact could there be than the AllSpark?

Sam had tried to find the AllSpark and Megatron when he had come awake in this world. It had been the first reason he was committed by his parents when all he could do was try to explain to his mundane, completely normal parents who had no memory of anything to do with the Autobots or Decepticons that he needed to go to the Hoover Dam to look for an extraterrestrial metal cube and a giant frozen robot man. 

That had been the beginning of the rough times; the commitments, the drugs, the therapy. He had no way of proving anything. History had changed minutely to make it more difficult; Grandpa Witwicky had fallen into a crevasse and died exploring the Arctic, so no glasses to fall back on, no notebooks of Cybertronian glyphs to reference. 

If his parents didn't remember either the circumstances that brought the Autobots to him or the giant mechanoids themselves, a younger, dumber Sam knew that something was definitely different, wrong, about where he found himself and that he needed more discretion in his future pursuits. 

With that realization, he’d said nothing to anyone else about the Autobots or Decepticons at the facilities he’d been forced into. To a point that hadn’t really mattered because he wasn’t just dealing with being the only one who remembered giant alien robots and strange alien life giving cubes; he was also suffering from the worst parts of PTSD from Egypt with no way to conceivably explain to anyone that he'd been through. Being transported back in time to right before he'd made contact with aliens? Died and been resurrected by long dead Primes to shove another ancient artifact into his dead friend’s chest? Not a story a head doctor was going to hear and think 'You’re fine to rejoin society'.

After months of inpatient stays and nearly bankrupting his parents, he'd finally been released to his parents relief before 'liberating' his fathers 1967 green Austin-Healey convertible and driving to Nevada in the dead of night. He made it to the Hoover Dam but was arrested after breaking in looking for the AllSpark and to a lesser degree Megatron.

He'd barely made it to the outer level before he was detained and then arrested, the security more heavy-duty than he'd imagine a facility, even a national landmark and energy station having. If they didn't also have a Sector 7 in residence it was a surprising amount of protection.

He'd kind of hoped that he might run into Agent Simmons at least, but when he'd tentatively asked the interviewer if he could see Agent Simmons he'd been told there was no such person at the facility. He didn't fight it though it seemed ludicrous there wasn't one, but none of his leads on the man had ever panned out. Nothing panned out. Everyone he remembered was either dead or had no idea what he was talking about. It was his first arrest, but as a minor with a history of mental health issues, he'd been gifted a light sentence in a mental health hospital.

Those were really dark times. He'd spent years in the hospitals. His life inside his head and his reality outside at such odds that he really had gone crazy for a while.

Finally, after too long dawdling down memory lane, he looked up at Barricade. The mech was staring at him, the same way one does at a particularly interesting puzzle, and he leaned forward. “I came here to meet the author Samuel James Witwicky, who has written books that know startlingly accurate information about a mechanoid race of aliens during a war between two very recognizable factions.” He stated. “I was led to believe that Samuel James Witwicky was a reclusive old man who could not be contacted by any modern convenience and was of failing health.” He made a show of looking Sam over, “What I come to find instead is someone who is too physically immature to be the reclusive author but who himself knows far too much about my race of mechanoid aliens.”

There were no questions yet, but Sam realized that that was just a matter of time. He leaned against the door frame and hugged his middle tightly.

“Who are you, boy?” Came the rumbly voice through the large mech's vocalizer.

Sam shrugged, “Sam Witwicky.”

The mech's eyes narrowed. “The Author?” 

Sam nodded.

Before Barricade could follow that rabbit, Sam had to ask. “Is Optimus still around?” Is Bumblebee still around? He wanted to ask, but Bee had told him that that was a name a human girl had given him, not what other Cybertronians knew him by during the Great War or back on Cybertron. Sam had never bothered to ask, like an idiot, what his best friend's name really was.

Barricade went utterly still. Optics widened, then narrowed. “Yes, Prime still lives.”

Sam nodded, glad for that. If this was an elaborate ruse, he didn't care, what would Barricade gain by lying to him, a small fleshling? He'd take this fiction any day to writing about the worse version from his memories. “Good, that's good.” he huffed.

Contemplative, the former(?) Decepticon frowned. “How do you know so much about us?” He cut to the chase.

That startled a chuckle out of Sam. “You wouldn't believe me even if I told you.” He laughed again, waving away the consternated look on his giant speaking companion's face. “I can't explain it in a way that makes sense to me, let alone anyone else. I'm glitched, basically. Totally crazy. You've read my wiki no doubt; I've spent years in asylums. I'm actually not even sure if you're really here and not some elaborate hallucination. I know that something happened, but I couldn't tell you what.” He explained though his delirious laughter.

Across from him Barricade looked, if nothing else, more intrigued. “You've been having visions of my kind.”

“Nightmares.” Sam corrected. “Enough that I’ve nearly ruined my life because of them.”

The mech nodded, almost sympathetically. “I have seen how most humans react to my kind, to know that we exist and have no one believe you would have been it's own kind of insanity.” He said thoughtfully.

Sam frowned, unnerved by the black and white mechs insight, but nodded. “Yeah. It's been…not great.”

The mech's eyes roved over him, “The change that happened to you, it stopped your age progression prematurely.” He stated so Sam didn't feel the need to confirm as one would a question. “I am going to need to report this.” Barricade said, thoughtfully.

Sam shrugged. He felt awful, more than his usual, like too little butter spread over too much bread, too much air in a too small of a balloon. “You do that.” He affirmed, standing back up. “I need to go lay down for a while.” He said, turning back into the house. “Careful on the turnout, the left is basically blind.” He said deliriously in parting.

Barricade’s plates shifted in affront, before he growled at the human, “Do not dismiss me, Samuel James Witwicky.” He demanded.

Sam turned back to Barricade and frowned. “You got what you came for.” He shrugged. “I'm sick, Barricade. I need to go rest. Unless you want me to puke in your general direction, this is where we part ways.” he said.

The mech looked him over with a gimlet optic. “You do not appear to be compromised.”

Sam laughed a weak chuckle, “I’m sick like rust, Barricade. You can’t see the damage until it’s too late.” He stated. He must have sounded crazy as he wheeled around, kicking the door shut to save what little warm air was left before stumbling to the couch and collapsing into it, his body feeling excited, exhausted, worn and yet spry all at once. It was a feeling that he was familiar with, a foreboding feeling, one that promised nothing good. 

Laid on the couch, trying to get his body under control, he heard the mech stand but not immediately leave. He moved around the property but left Sam and his home in peace and after a few minutes Sam realized that Barricade was looking for signal.

“Good luck, slagger, no signal in the entire valley.” He muttered into the couch. 

Just how he designed it. 

Chapter Text

Sam didn’t know when Barricade finally left; he was too exhausted to keep track of the mech beyond ‘near the house’ and ‘not currently destroying the house’, both of which were important but didn’t ask a lot of his higher brain functions. Whether he liked it or not, he would be aware of either. As it stood, when he was finally feeling up to not being horizontal, the change in the light let Sam know several hours had passed and the lack of tall, dark, and brutal let him know that in that intervening time Barricade had shown himself off the property, or at least away from the house.

It was what he wanted. Barricade, even with his answers, was still a slagger who’d nearly killed him and had hurt Bee more times than the small scout could remember even with a crystal memory bank. Part of Sam cursed himself for not going through what would arguably have been an absolute slog of trying to ask Barricade about Bumblebee by narrowing down all the Cybertronians he’d fought over the years, but the rest of him knew that if the war had been over for millennia, his friend was most likely still alive. While his fortunes hadn’t been very inspiring on Earth, in the greater universe Bee seemed nigh indestructible based on his stories.

Sam glanced at the desk with its typewriter and pages yet to be written and for the first time in a long time the compulsion to write about what he remembered, what he saw, wasn’t overwhelming. He felt like for the first time in 60 years he could finally breathe fully, that there wasn’t a Buick-sized hand wrapped around his chest.

It wasn’t…relaxing, but it was an overall sense of peace. Something that he could barely remember from before.

Sitting up he noted that the fire was merely cinders which explained the cool of the room. Standing, he wandered over and added a few cords to the still-glowing embers and shut the hatch on the stove before taking the percolator off the top and adding water to the solid mix of burnt coffee on the bottom and placed it on the counter to help make eventual removal possible.

Seeing as the sun was nearly down, Sam opened the ancient fridge and pulled out a premade sandwich and an orange soda before returning to the couch. The silence of the evening, save for the nature sounds that permeated the poorly insulated building, was a welcome reprieve. His conversation with Barricade had lasted longer than any human conversation he had had in nearly a decade and even now he felt like he needed to recover.

The table was littered with books, all of which he knew like the back of his hand or maybe like old friends. It was comforting to open one and know how the characters got where they were and where they were going. So different from his own life. He used to pick up a new book when he went into town as a reward to himself for putting in the effort to make it there in spite of the pain doing so caused him, but the visits to town had been fewer and fewer over the years so he had correspondingly fewer new books to clutter his home. Part of him mourned it, this shrinking bubble that was his life, but the pragmatic part of him acknowledged his own limitations. Just like when his dad had been forced to stop playing golf. Or when his mother had been forced to stop gardening.  

Sam read and munched on his meal till full dark when, instead of turning on a light to continue reading he brought his detritus to the kitchen, cleaned what mess he had and set his plate in the sink basin before he turned to go to the bedroom - leaving the door open to welcome in the last of the warm air into the small space.

Stripping, he was under the covers and curling into a tight ball in seconds. It was only then that he felt the dam give a shudder that he realized he was on the verge of a ‘decompression’ event, as his first therapist liked to call them. 

Sam considered them just straight up breakdowns, but that's what his Dad used to call any kind of crying so take that with a grain of salt. He used to hate them; they'd hit when he least expected it and then he'd be out of commission for hours. For really bad ones, it could be as much as a day or more, especially around anniversaries or special occasions. His first birthday in this world had been in a mental institution and he hadn't been able to even see his parents because of some bullshit administrative decision. He'd been inconsolable for days.

Now they were fairly infrequent, maybe once or twice a year, and lucky for Sam this was the first one this year.

Whoopie.

--------------

The next morning arrived later than it had in the weeks prior. It was also noticeably warmer; the overnight log burning had kept the rooms above 50°, which was a nice change of pace. A good omen, perhaps? 

The sun was up, there was bird song, and Sam's sleep hadn't been interrupted by anything he was aware of. No nightmares, no dreams, no visions of sugarplum fairies, just the sleep of the exhausted. The flip side was that he actually felt well rested, a novelty these days. Standing, he separated his laundry into ‘dirty’ and ‘can be worn again’ before making his way into the bathroom and taking a hot shower. Over all, despite the breakdown the night before, the day was shaping up to be one of the better ones he could think of in recent history. He might just take the day off if this kept up, maybe wander the woods a bit, might take the boat onto the lake for a little fishing, possibly even bring an actual fishing rod. 

Washed and dried, Sam quickly put on a new set of clothes before making his way out into the great room. There was a lingering warmth to the air and he debated the merit of shoving another cord into the stove before heading out, but being unsure what he was going to be doing and how long it’d take, he decided against it. His woodpile was running low this late in the season and adding it to his grocery order would involve talking with Dave the Delivery Dude, who was great until he started talking. Such an event was to be avoided at all costs.

It was closer to 9 than 8 by the time he pulled his jacket over his shoulders, stomped his boots on and finished getting ready to head out. His rifle was slung over his shoulder as a matter of habit - he’d been chased up a tree by a black bear the first year he’d lived in the cabin and had seen the wisdom in protection since. The rifle wouldn’t kill a Grizzly or a Moose, but it’d disincline one from killing him immediately. 

The air outside pinched his cheeks and he quickly ducked back into the house for his very warm aviator hat before continuing out into the woods. 

Sam hadn’t particularly liked the woods when he’d been younger, more of a city dweller. Lord knew his family only dealt with the great outdoors when there was a golf course or an RV park as part of the experience. One of the institutions he’d spent time in, one his parents could barely afford, had been a private clinic in the high mountains near Tahoe and he’d come to find that he did enjoy the woods in between completely useless therapy sessions. The olanzapine, amisulpride, ziprasidone, and quetiapine had been equally as useless, but much more fun in retrospect. 

So as Sam climbed over the rocks and fallen trees heading towards one of the creeks that fed into the small lake that the house sat above, he let the sounds of nature encompass him entirely. There were dozens of varieties of birds, some squirrels, a flighty chipmunk or two, and deer every once in a while. Soon he was following the animal trails over hill and dale, taking turns to look at newly fallen trees or early blooming shrubs. He wasn’t particularly great at foraging, but even he could find young pine cones to make mugolio with if he was so inclined. 

He didn’t notice where his feet were taking him till he saw the small brick building in the distance and came to a stop. 

Oh. He thought as he stood in stunned silence. 

Taking stock of himself, he realized that even having a good day he wasn’t ready to deal with that right now, so turned towards the more interesting cave and cliff system to his right. He stayed aware and awake now that he knew that his subconscious was looking for an opportunity to fuck with him. 

A while later, he slowed to a crawl as he finally found himself outside of the cave systems. The caves were more like fissures in the stone base of the hills, very few of them stretching more than half a dozen paces into the heart of the mountains that surrounded his little slice of property. It had been a great discovery when he’d been new to the house, when he’d been setting up the signal nullifiers so he could finally wander in the quiet of the woods without pain. He paused outside of one of them in particular to see some carvings he had done when he’d been in a particularly black mood.

‘I was here, why weren’t you?’ had been a dreary refrain to live by for so long. 

Not that anyone could read it except apparently old Seekers. He wondered where Jetfire was now, not for the first time, that hunk of rust. It now made sense why he hadn’t been at the museum taking up space if he hadn't been stuck on Earth so long he'd rusted to it.

He'd checked, of course, when he'd been released again but knew he wasn't there quickly after arrival at the Smithsonian National Air and Space Museum. When Jetfire hadn't been the stealth bomber Sam had desperately checked the other frames to no success. None of the frames there had been right to hold the behemoth so he’d spent the day just sadly looking at the air frames and wondering what was wrong with his brain. Part of him was glad that Jetfire hadn’t been reduced to a mummy in a museum, rotting for all eternity, but part of him had felt like it was another mixed signal about his madness.

“Took you long enough.” He groused finally before continuing further into the rock faces. 

Hours passed, and after scaring the bejesus out of a young coyote and slipping about 15 feet down an incline due to some loose snow and earth by accident, it was nearly noon and Sam was ready to head back. Straightening his cap, he got his bearings from the hill tops he could see before making his way back down the crag he was settled on and towards the lake and finally, home.

An indeterminate amount of time later, as Sam came out of the tree line, he had to pause. While he didn’t own the entire valley, the only access to it was the road that was part of his property. While he didn’t get guests as a rule as he'd stated, getting the odd hiker or group of people interested in the lake wasn’t unusual. It didn't bother him, really, so long as they didn't come puttering around asking for a bathroom or supplies. He'd only had a few entitled people be so bold, but usually a sharp 'get off my property' while holding his rifle was enough to get them moving along.

This though, this was something else entirely. 

Along his narrow one lane road, which had a tendency to pothole if you weren’t particularly careful navigating it, was a line of about 15 different vehicles that he could see. A majority of them were the generic black SUV that the bureaus with three letters tended to favor but interspersed amongst them were more interesting models, including a certain black and white police vehicle that Sam had been kind of hoping he’d seen the last of the day before.

There were also a ton of people. There were many milling about by the cars but there were even more at the house and from the look of it had taken his open door as an invitation to wander into his house. Hopefully that meant there had been no breaking involved but they were still on his property, in his house, touching his things. Growling, he hefted his rifle higher on his shoulder and started the half mile walk back to his house, noting that whatever exhaustion he might have felt from wandering in the woods for a few hours evaporated like water on the lit stove of his temper.

He'd inherited one thing from his father.

He almost didn’t notice the motorcycle that was by the house until it revved its engine and started towards him. For a moment he thought it might have been Arcee, but as it got closer he realized that this wasn’t someone he’d met before, but it was someone he knew. He didn’t let their approach stop him from his angry march, but now the humans were aware of his approach as well and had at least come out of his house to watch his approach.

About a dozen yards from him the…Triumph(?) slowed to a stop before the sound of a transformation cog engaging filled the air. Sam didn’t even stop as he sidestepped the mech without a sideways glance, who enfolded a fair bit bigger than Sam would have expected even from such a large motorcycle, and continued towards the house at his steady annoyed clip. 

“Hey!” He heard behind him as the mech, or potential menace he should say, turned around and jogged after him. “Hold your horses, little human!” The mech called as he finally caught up.

Sam got a gander at the Mechanimal and rolled his eyes, noting that the ears and tail did look ridiculous even if they were a bit cute. “What are you doing here, Steeljaw?” He asked the…Decepticon? Freelance chaos gremlin? Any place Steeljaw was, Sam knew shenanigans, and not always the fun kind, followed. “What is everyone doing here? Jesus, did Barricade just ping anyone with a receiver?” He muttered to himself. 

The Mechanimal looked at him in surprise, optics narrowed and assessing, before looking back towards the circus that was Sam’s home. “Well, no, not everyone. Ultra Magnus gathered those in the vicinity and bridged in a couple others, but the humans are all from I.C.E.R. stateside.” He paused, before looking back down at Sam, “Well, most of them.”

Sam didn’t know what to do with that bit of information. “Well, they’re definitely trespassing. What the fuck. Some agent is probably wrist deep in my underwear drawer and I do not appreciate that.” He grumbled. Now that he was closer he could make out a few of the more exotic models in the lane, grateful to his core that he didn’t know anyone that he was looking at, at least he didn’t think he did. There was no flash of yellow to get his hopes up for Bumblebee or down for Sunstreaker however. 

He turned annoyed eyes to the blue ‘con next to him, “I need those cars gone.” Sam declared, feeling the twist of anxiety which he quickly covered with annoyance.

The mech raised his brow ridges and held up his servos, “Don’t look at me, I’m only here to track you down.”

Sam barked a laugh, “Well, good job, seeing as how I saw you first.”

The Mechanimal's wolf ears fell and Sam could feel his pout. “Well, I just got here. I only got called in when they couldn’t find you when they arrived this morning. They thought you might have booked it. It’s not like I had an opportunity to actually go looking for you.” 

They were within a few hundred yards of the house when an otherwise non-descript agent (male, white, tall, black hair, built like a brick shit house), raised his hand to stop them with a hand clearly placed on his hip gun. “Mr. Witwicky, please stop where you are and drop the weapon!” He called and Sam paused, confused for a second before he remembered his rifle.

Instead of arguing, which is what his father would have done, Same unslung the rifle with his other hand up and carefully set up on a couple rocks, keeping it from the always vaguely moist earth. Standing up he raised his hands and glared at the few dozen agents and…oh, those were holoforms, weren't they? Yesterday he had only had a hunch that Barricade's holoform wasn’t a real human, but now with both humans and holoforms present there was something about a holoform that resonated differently than a human and he knew instantly what they were.

“You all are trespassing!” He called, pointing up at the porch, “'specially you guys! Jesus, did you just let yourselves in?” He yelled and the agents had the decency to look slightly embarrassed by that before a figure stepped out from between the agents and looked Sam over.

He looked to be of African descent with a well formed face, manicured facial hair, and a series of short locs pinned into a ponytail on his head. At over 6 foot by a healthy amount, thick with muscle and dressed in tactical gear, he would have been the ideal for any agent he was pretending to be but Sam knew instantly that this was a holoform.

Smirking at him, the holoform folded his arms over his unfairly thick chest and raised an eyebrow at him. “You look like shit, Witwicky.”

Sam’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped when he recognized that voice. “Barricade?” He asked incredulously. “Why aren’t you…” He dropped one hand and waved inexplicably to the side, “You know, Barney Fife?” He asked for lack of a better way of saying ‘plain as mayonnaise on white bread’. “You can’t just change, that’s not fair!” 

Barricade grinned broadly, “That is my ‘working’ disguise, this is my sensor array default.” He shrugged, unfairly flexing at Sam. “Can’t say I’m mad about it.”

Of course he wasn’t. Sam’s body slumped back, drawing his hands over his face because this, this right here? These were the things that caused trauma. It didn’t have to be being pursued through a firefight or shoving a ancient artifact into someone's soul to kill them, oh nooooo, bring on the inferiority complex that you thought you’d left behind in high school and the trauma basically wrote itself.

The actual agent looked between the two of them before nodding at Steeljaw who raised a servo and placing it between Sam’s shoulder blades and gave the shorter man a soft nudge towards where the agents were forming up. Sam turned and smacked at the motorcycles servos in annoyance. “I can walk just fine, Steeljaw!” He snarled, slapping at the servo again to make a point.

The mech pulled his arms back in a ‘I surrender’ way, though his optics let Sam know that at least someone was having fun.

Huffing in annoyance, Sam looked around and noticed a kid standing near Barricades alt form, probably 11 or 12, and it took him a second to figure out ‘Oh shit, that is Frenzy’. He had his little arms folded over his chest and looked grumpy as shit, but he didn’t appear to be actively glitching so that at least was a minor improvement. The kid saw him staring and flipped him off, which for some reason caused Sam to bark a laugh. 

The others followed his gaze and the human agents looked discomforted and uncomfortable with the childish holoform but Sam thought it was very on brand for the little blighter. 

The first agent waved him over, “Mr. Witwicky, my name is Agent Thomas. I’m in charge of this operation.” He began.

Sam glared at the man, “So you’re the one I get to yell at about the breaking and entering.” Sam said, stiffly, and the agent winced.

Looking first at Sam he glanced at Barricade with a pointed eyebrow. “We were led to believe you were in need of immediate medical attention, and then that you might have taken flight with classified intel.”  Before he waved to someone who was already approaching and Sam frowned for a second at the…mech, yes, this was a holoform.

Sam’s heart clenched for a second when recognition finally struck, taking in the medic. He’d never met First Aid, he shouldn’t have this visceral of a reaction, but low - he felt fragile suddenly in his knees and from the looks on at least the mech and Agent Thomas, he wasn’t subtle about it. “First Aid?” He asked weakly.

Sam lost track of things for a little bit after that. There was movement around him and he only came back to himself when he was inside his house and laid out on his own couch with First Aid and two additional medical personnel, human, speaking above him. He blinked his eyes up at them and groaned. “I’m alright.” He muttered unconvincingly.

The three of them looked down at him in clear disagreement. “Mr. Witwicky, you lost consciousness for just under five minutes.” First Aid stated, “Your blood pressure is concerningly low and your heart rate correspondingly quite high.” He explained.

Sam shrugged him off, “It’s fine, that’s normal.” He explained up at them blearily. “I just need something to eat. Let me just get something to eat.”

The mech pursed his lips, “Weakness is often a side effect of low blood sugar.” He stated consideringly, “If I was able to do a full body scan I would know more, but none of our equipment has been functioning properly since we left the main road.” He complained.

Oh, the signal nullifiers interfered with even the mech's instruments and scanners? Sam frowned, “Oh, I didn’t know they worked like that.” He said faintly, rolling to sit on the couch before stumbling up like a dancer around and dodging the hands of the personnel in the room towards the kitchen.

First Aid tone was plaintive as he missed catching Sam as well, “Mr. Witwicky, you need to lie down. Your symptoms are concerning.”

Sam moved around the few other people in his house till he got to the fridge and pulled out an apple and a prepackaged sandwich. “I said I’m fine, First Aid. It gets better after I eat.” He tried to explain again.

The room had more than a handful of human agents and they, along with First Aid and Barricade, were all watching him when he turned and managed to make it to the small table and chair that he almost never used and collapsed into it. “Just give me a minute.” He said around the beginning of a headache. “You need to move the cars.” He said apropos of nothing before he frowned, unwrapping the egg salad sandwich with slightly trembling hands, “I’m serious, they need to go.”

Agent Thomas folded his arms, face pinched. “I’m sorry, Mr. Witwicky, but we can’t do that. This is an active investigation.”

Taking a bite of his sandwich, Sam waved at the overflowing yard and the agents with instruments that all seemed to be unworkable. “An investigation into what exactly?” He huffed. 

The man adjusted his stance to cock one hip towards the door and frowned at Sam. “How you exist.” He said plainly. “How a recluse hermit knows more incredibly restricted information about Cybertronians than almost anyone on the planet.”

Sam took another bite of his sandwich before shrugging. “Beats me.” he said around the dry and thus uncooperative bite. “You want answers? I want answers. My life has been a big clusterfuck and I have no idea why. Is this Primus? Is this the Primes?” He noticed that the two holoforms in the room winced a little at his cavalier references to their most sacred figures. “Is this all an elaborate hallucination and I'll wake up screaming because this reality is better than whatever I'm actually dealing with? Am I disassociating inside a disassociation like some kind of fucked up Inception reject?” He waved jazz hands at them. “All I know is that I know things, them, stuff and now you're here.” 

First Aid came closer. Now that he wasn't overwhelmed by seeing him or flat on his back about to pass out he found it amusing that the ambulance had elected to don a red headed holoform. Whereas Barricade had leaned towards a societal understanding of the epitome of masculinity, First Aid was much more relatable and normal looking with a slight paunch and weak chin and Sam couldn't help but appreciate that.

The holoform frowned a bit beside him and raised his hand and Sam flinched back a bit, causing the holoform to adopt an apologetic expression. “I am sorry, Mr. Witwicky, but with my limited functionality at the moment many of my only options for assessing your condition are through my sensor array's tactile input.” he explained. “Until we move you this is all I can offer.”

Sam went cold, “What? What do you mean move me? I'm not going anywhere.” He sputtered, feeling a different kind of cold sweat trickle down his back. 

Barricade raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “You’re an intergalactic security vulnerability, we can’t allow you to fall into the wrong hands.” He shrugged. “If we know about you, then there’s a good possibility that less scrupulous actors either now know or will soon know about you.”

Sam huffed out an anxious breath. “I can’t leave.” He reiterated with feeling. “This is where I’m safe.” Sam wanted to swat at First Aid as he checked his temperature and took his wrist almost delicately and pressed his fingers to Sam’s pulse point but didn’t. For some inexplicable reason Sam was already fond of the medic.

Agent Thomas and Barricade looked at each other in consideration before Agent Thomas raised a hand, “What do you mean that you’re ‘safe’ here?”

Stuffing the last of the sandwich into his mouth Sam took a moment to chew and swallow before answering, finally getting his wrist back from First Aid. “Just what I said, I can’t be…out there. It makes my illness worse. I can barely leave here to go to town as it is.” He gruffed.

Barricade considered Sam for a minute, “The signal dead zone.” He frowned. “You are being ‘protected’ by the dead zone.”

Instead of saying anything Sam bit into his apple as First Aid took a step back.

Stuffing his hands into his jacket pockets, First Aid glanced at the other two. “Mr. Witwicky’s condition is a concern but not in immediate danger from what I can gather with my limited resources. Until I get my instruments back online, I can’t be more certain than that.” He said apologetically. 

Agent Thomas nodded, “Is the signal dead zone a naturally occurring phenomena?” He asked Sam suspiciously.

Waffling his head, Sam took another bite of the apple, “A bit, but there are signal nullifiers around the valley.”

Narrowing his eyes, Agent Thomas glared contemplatively at Sam, “And where, exactly, did you get those? Not exactly something you can just buy on Amazon.”

Sam debated with himself how much to share with these people. “What organization are you guys with, again?”

Agent Thomas frowned but pulled out a badge from his jacket pocket and held it out to show Sam. “The International Coalition of Extraterrestrial Relations.” He explained. “We’re a part of the UN with branches in 170 member nations.”

Sam looked at the badge out of curiosity. The badge looked official enough, his eyes roving over the information in the little black billfold. Nodding, he twisted the apple in his hands in consideration.

“You can’t buy the signal nullifiers from Amazon, that’s true.” He admitted, before taking a bite of the apple and chewing. “Not as a unit anyway. But really, all you need is an old microwave and about 100$ worth of components, which you can buy on Amazon.” Sam responded. “I built them when I got here in kind of a fever dream. I needed them to block out the noise, the signals so I could hear myself think. I guess I might have over engineered them, though. I didn’t realize that they’d interfere with this range of signals.” He frowned and looked at the two holoforms, “I’m kind of surprised that you’re able to render hard light constructs really with them going if it's causing this many problems.”

His admission to constructing the signal nullifiers and creating the dead zone caused the agents in the room to regard him with surprise, but it was First Aid who responded. “Our hologram nanites don’t work on a system signal one needs for the likes of radio waves or instrument communications. It’s the same signature as any Cybertronian component. If you had blocked a Cybertronian component signature then as we came into range we would have received a series of warnings before going into a hard stasis lock until we could be retrieved.” He gave a small smile, “Thank you for not doing that, by the way.”

Agent Thomas couldn’t seem to settle on being either angry or surprised at this revelation, not that Sam particularly cared at the moment. He had other worries. Sam had finished his apple but didn’t feel as much better as he’d been hoping, he was just on this side of functional honestly. The headache was a smidgen worse even and that was unusual and correspondingly concerning.

Refocusing on the conversation Sam gestured out into the woods, “Look, before you all trespassed it was working as desired.”

The two senior agents, Thomas and Barricade, turned to each other in a quiet conversation and First Aid took the opportunity provided and grabbed the other chair at the table and pulled it towards himself to sit in it facing Sam. “Mr. Witwicky, can you tell me about the symptoms of your illness?” He asked, focusing on the pertinent details for his job.

Sam looked at First Aid, “You can call me Sam, First Aid. Mr. Witwicky was my father.” He frowned sadly, the reminder bittersweet, before rubbing his face with his hands. “God, I don’t even know where to start.”

First Aid folded his hands in his lap. “Why don’t we start chronologically and then at the end we can discuss the severity of each symptom?”

Nodding, Sam set his elbow on the table. “I’ll preface this by saying most of this stuff doesn’t make sense.” He cautioned but First Aid, unlike a certain chartreuse rescue hummer, waited patiently for him to continue. “So, at first it was just…memories. I call it 'my world' or my 'alternate universe'; it's kind of a trope in fiction. I’m a writer, I know a lot of tropes. It started off with just this one set of memories, my own, which were different from the history in my apparent life here. In my memories I met an autobot scout named Bumblebee who was looking for the AllSpark, and then I met Optimus, and Ironhide, Ratchet, Jazz …” he stopped and looked at First Aid. “Do you know them? Are they okay?”

The mention of the AllSpark had First Aid leaning forward, “Did they find the AllSpark?” He asked in a voice of benediction.

Sam looked into the bright blue eyes of the man in front of him and felt the same sorrow he had come intimately familiar with, the knowledge that he had doomed an entire race to death by attrition buried like a neutron star in his core. “It had been destroyed. I’m sorry.” He explained quietly.

First Aid sat back, his eyes stunned, resting his hands on his knees for lack of a better place to rest them. “Destroyed? But…how?”

Sam looked out the window at the yard, but not really seeing it. “It was used as a weapon and shattered under the strain of what it was never meant to be.” He said thoughtfully, massaging his breast as the familiar hollow ache in the area of his sternum. While the AllSpark had stolen the life out of Megatron, his own chest felt sympathy pains whenever he was reminded of his actions.

First Aid and he sat in silence for a long minute, Sam full of sorrow and First Aid full of shock and mourning. It was one of the few things in Sam’s life that he truly regretted.

He'd essentially doomed his friends and their whole race to a slow extinction to mitigate the vicious aspirations of a few. He'd been a child, he couldn't have understood the implications, the consequences, of his actions. It didn't matter that a being millions of years his senior and someone he had trusted had made the decision, ultimately he was the one who had made the call. It had been his hands that had sealed their fate. As he'd grew older the reality of his actions had finally settled in the pit of his stomach and he had come the understand the context for ‘the road to hell is paved with good intentions’.

First Aid huffed out a breath, finally, coming back to himself and nodding. “The AllSparks purpose has always been for creation, to act in such a juxtaposed manner to its sacrosanct function would have been truly profane. It saddens me that it is gone in your 'alternate universe', but I cannot begrudge it for being so.” He said quietly, hands folded in his lap, even if the knuckles of his holoform were white from the pressure he was extending on himself.  

After another long moment the holoform pivoted the conversation. “Well, 'alternate universe' you sounds like you had quite the adventure. You must have been a very lucky indeed to meet all of them. They are all well. Ratchet is Prime’s CMO; I was lucky to apprentice under Ratchet during the Great War. We communicate frequently as his knowledge is unparalleled in Xenobiology. Ironhide is the head of the Prime Guard for Optimus Prime. Jazz is…well.” He said, unsurely. 

Grateful for the change, Sam gave him a smirk, “I know Jazz is Optimus’ head of ‘Special Operations’.” He tipped his head in acknowledgement. “He…” Sam went quiet, drawn down again, staring at the table and feeling a wave of melancholy wash over him by the memory of Jazz’s last moments. “He died, in my memories, trying to save me.” He pressed his hand to his head. “It was a firefight, something like 400 other people died, but he's the only one I really remember. I just…the sound of a spark chamber being…” he fiddled with the crumbs left over from his sandwich. “It's something you don't forget.”

First Aid was utterly still, like the revelation that Jazz of all mechs could be killed couldn't even registered. 

Sam cleared his throat. “Anyway.” He glanced at his plate determinedly. “Anyway, then other memories started trickling in. Ones that weren't mine.” He frowned. “I have context for some of them, but others are completely random.” 

First Aid had recovered by this point, looking intrigued despite himself. “Do you care to clarify what you mean by that?” 

Sam shrugged, “I saw the Senate slaughtered by Megatron and Strika on multiple occasions.” He said listlessly, rubbing a thumb over the table in abstract patterns. “Sometimes it's nice stuff, like a festival or parade, the Seekers are stunning when their aerialbatics aren't trying to kill you.” He said almost fondly, before his face pinched, “But it's mostly stuff about the Great War, but like, different versions of it. I've seen Cliffjumper get murdered a dozen different ways and I've never even met the mech. He seems like a good person and yet the only time I see him is when he's dying.”

Agent Thomas, who Sam hadn’t noticed had tuned back into the conversation, drew in a startled breath, his eyes angling towards the door and Sam blinked at him in confusion. 

Barricade gave Sam a somber face before speaking. “Cliffjumper is one of our operatives here today.” 

Sam stared at him in surprise, before standing on infirm legs to stumbled forward and look desperately out the window he'd used to see Barricade's arrival just the day prior. 

First Aid was up, his face clearly concerned, and behind Sam in case he fell as he looked out at the lineup. It was difficult at the angle to see, but in the curve of a bend he could just make out the edge of a red muscle car with, barely visible, a horn popping out of their grill.

Whatever spaghetti that'd been holding his knees up snapped at that point and he slid down the wall, feeling his eyes filling with moisture.

But it was okay. For once they were happy tears. Cliffjumper was alive when so easily he could have just been not.

Above his head where he couldn't see Barricade and First Aid shared a look of deep concern.

What in Primus’ name was going on?

Chapter Text

Sam was dozing, that sweet place between being awake and being insensate where dreams sometimes lingered or nightmares dissipated. It wasn’t a place he spent a lot of time, all things considered, but he was familiar enough with it that he was content to merely allow himself to drift in its gentle hold for now. 

He was warm and it was quiet. He snuggled further into his pillow and yawned, hands pulled up to his chest. A moment later there was the soft sound of a page turning. That wasn’t right, wasn’t expected, he frowned as he was drawn into awareness, a dream perhaps?

Squinting his eye open he found that while it was night his bedside lamp softly illuminated a gauzy halo of light near the bed that gentled further as it elongated to the edge of the room which was cast into deep shadow. That which was in the scope of the light, though, included a pair of legs encased in black tactical trousers. Following those black clad legs up he saw a pair of large men's hands holding his second book, ‘The Golden Campaign’, and further up still showed a chiseled jaw liberally dusted in stubble, all American good looks, and a head of hair that Sam used to joke wouldn’t be out of place on a GQ cover. 

Just the hair though.

Yawning again, Sam decided that he liked this dream and smiled sleepily. “Hi Will.” He muttered, closing his eyes again.

There was an extended pause before Will’s voice responded. “Hey Sam.” There was an even longer pause before the chair creaked as it's occupant adjusted his position. “How’re you feeling?”

Sam shrugged. “Weird dreams.” He settled on. “I’m glad you’re here, I’ve missed you.” He sighed. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save you.”

There was a pregnant pause, not that Sam really noticed. This was a nice dream, maybe he’d even remember it when he woke up? Sometimes he dreamt about hanging out with Mikaela too and they’d talk for hours like when they’d been teenagers in a small California town with promising futures stretched wide and long before them. Miles too on occasion though the Miles in this world had died just after highschool in a car accident.

“D’you like the book?” Sam asked, dismissing that dark thought from his nice dream an indeterminate amount of time later. “I hated writing it. The fans really liked it though.” I got out around a wispy yawn.

Will’s voice was amused when it replied, “The political intrigue is well written, I can tell you liked this Senator Ratarius a lot.” He joked with soft sarcasm. 

Sam giggled, “Oh god, he’s awful. The guy he’s based on, Ratbat, is such a scummy dude. His punishment I felt was pretty appropriate for his crimes.” He hummed, giggling a little more to himself. “You’ll see.” He said in amusement thinking about the former Senators ultimate punishment.

Will hummed thoughtfully, “Did you see this happening in your visions?” He asked curiously.

Odd for a dream to ask that. Sam was quiet for a while before nodding, “Yeeeeep.” The ‘p’ particularly sharp in the otherwise quiet room. “I got a lot of it right…but I've definitely missed stuff too. I was in the…9th book(?) when I learned about Soundwave’s--Sanarus’--telepathy and I had to figure out how to ‘weave it into the narrative’. You can’t just go back and correct things. It was considered this big reveal, I had so many critics who were like ‘why now?’ and I couldn’t be like ‘because I had a seizure on the kitchen floor and just learned it’, you know?” He chuckled self-deprecatingly.

The chair creaked again as Will leaned further back. “Do the seizures happen often?” He asked with concern.

Yawning, Sam shrugged, “Mixed bag, they've been picking up again, but were better when I got here. Before I moved out here, when I lived in town, they were…” He was quiet, “They were pretty bad.” He frowned, “I don’t wanna talk about them, Will.” He finally whispered. “I miss you so much, I wish you were really here. It’s been so hard here without you guys.” He confessed.

There was quiet for a time, save for the sound of someone rubbing a finger nail over fabric. “Sam, what do you mean you couldn’t save me?” Will finally asked and Sam took a shuddering breath.

Sam knew that this is where the dream stopped and the nightmare started. He made a small sound of distress, rolling away from Will before hissing as something pulled in his hand. Opening bleary eyes he frowned down at the hand in pain and made a weak noise in surprise at the IV sticking out of the back of his hand leading to a bag suspended by a thin stand adjacent to the headboard.

Will stood, but only seconds later First Aid materialized next to the bed between Lennox and Sam, eyes narrowed. “Sam, hang on, your IV’s caught.” He soothed, leaning forward and carefully untangling the line.

Sam stared at the two of them in befuddlement, making a noise of distress even as he was given slack. “First Aid? What are you doing here?” He frowned in sleepy confusion. 

First Aid smiled down at Sam, straightening his blankets. “I’ve been here all day, Sam, remember? You collapsed earlier, you were very dehydrated and in distress. The IV has electrolytes and sugars that you’ve been missing and a mild sedative to help you relax.” He said kindly, straightening up but not looming. “You might feel a bit tired and confused; that’s the sedative.”

Two brown eyes drifting past the medical officer and to Will, still standing there, and Sam stared at the man uncomprehendingly. “But Will is here.” He whined. “You can see him too, right?” He suddenly asked in a moment of panic, terrified that Will was both there and not there. 

Pausing from where he was tidying the edges of the bed, First Aid made eye contact with first Sam before glancing at Will. “Yes, I can see General Lennox. He arrived after you collapsed earlier today. You know the General?” First Aid asked, intrigued.

Sam looked at Will in surprise. “You’re a General now? You were a Lieutenant… oh, no, sorry.” He frowned at himself, finally remembering that this was the other world and not his original one, “We never met, did we.” He said, quietly, flopping back against his pillows and feeling suddenly very small. He raised his other hand to run through his hair, scrubbing his head. “I’m sorry, I get confused sometimes.” He apologized to the man. 

Will shook his head, “It’s okay, Sam.” He sat back down, book still in his hands. 

First Aid seemed pleased enough to ease back. “I’d like to get some real food into you. You were nearly out of food so I had Sideswipe run to town to get some groceries.” The medic clarified at Sam's confused expression.

Sam couldn’t help but snort a little at that, “Sides? I’m sure he was utterly thrilled by that.” 

First Aid gave him a cheeky look. “If he didn’t want to run errands he shouldn’t have complained about being stuck with nothing to do then, should he?” Sam chocked on the giggle that forced it's way out, shaking his head. “How does some soup and a sandwich sound?”

Shrugging, Sam leaned back, still grinning. “Fine. I’m not really hungry though.”

First Aid gave him a look, “You’re very lucky I’m not Ratchet, he’d have you on a feeding tube with an answer like that.”

“Or blunt force trauma with a wrench.” Sam muttered, though it was fondly.

That startled a laugh out of the holoform in turn. “Quite right. I’ll be back shortly.” He smiled at Sam, giving Lennox a nod before leaving the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

Once more, Will and Sam sat in the half light, but Sam could now hear the soft bustle of others in the rest of the house now that he was listening for it and rubbed his face tiredly. Whatever First Aid had given him was working a treat because rather than freaking out he was merely worried. “How bad is it?” He asked quietly and Will leaned back, thoughtfully regarding him.

Tapping the book on his knee, Will gave it to Sam. “I wouldn’t say anything is bad, we’re not in an active war zone and no one is taking heavy fire with no hope of air support.” He responded.

Laughing, Sam tilted his head to look at Will fully, “Oh, yeah, forgot I was speaking with a General.”

Will gave him an answering smile, “If you’ve been in the military long enough, you eventually trickle up if you aren’t grossly incompetent. After almost 80 years this is both my due and my punishment for staying in so long.” He joked, before his face lost some of its levity. “You are a bit of an anomaly, Sam. You aren’t the first person that I’ve met who has stopped aging, clearly, but First Aid briefed me on your memory issues and that is…well, it’s something else entirely.” He said thoughtfully. “What concerns me most is the dead zone, though, honestly.”

Sam frowned, folding his arms loosely over his stomach. “Everyone is so hung up on that.” He complained.

Giving Sam a pointed glance, Will leaned forward. “You built a signal nullifying network out of spare parts that interferes with all technology that uses signals that apparently aren't the Cybertronian's function signals. Not just our instruments, the fucking Cybertronians can’t even ping each other.” He groused. “They can pick up signals from each other from across the continent but the second they roll into this valley? Nothing. They’re as blind as a standard human. It’s been incredibly disconcerting for them and, by extension, us.”

Sam wrinkled his nose up in disquiet at that scrap of information, “I guess I can understand that.” He admitted finally.

Lennox tapped his thigh again with the book. “How’d you learn how to do it? Some kind of memory?” He asked. It was an interrogation, but a gentle one, Sam realized. 

Shaking his head, Sam tapped his own thumbs on his stomach. “Nah, nothing like that.” He sighed. “It’s actually part of the problem, or I guess a symptom of the bigger problem. I…I have trouble with noises, voices, signals, when I’m out of the dead zone. A lot of it’s like, radio waves and stuff, wifi and cell phone signals, more stuff now a days than before this whole 'internet of things' movement that has everything connected to the web.” He frowned. “No, the signal nullifiers were…so, huh.” How to explain it? “In the world with my…original memories, I accidentally touched a shard of the AllSpark.” He tried to explain in a way that could make sense.

Will sat up straighter at that, “The AllSpark? You saw it?” He demanded. Oh, First Aid hadn't shared that tidbit.

Sam nodded, looking listlessly to the side. “Yeah. It was destroyed in my world, but there were…well, there were a couple of shards of it left. I didn’t even realize that I had a shard of it until years later when I was moving out for college. It must have fallen into my pocket when the cube was destroyed and then I just didn’t wear that hoody again because, you know, trauma. When I touched it I got…well, it info dumped on me, though I didn't realize it at first. There was this whole thing where it forged all of my parents appliances into these drone monsters that were trying to kill me.  Drove me crazy on that side, and I wasn’t much better on this one. I got this Galactic Encyclopedia of knowledge just shoved into my head. I felt like Genie a bit, you know? Infinite cosmic power...itty bitty living space.” He said, fluttering his hand at his own skull.

Will stared at him for a long minute, thoughtful. “The AllSpark told you how to build the signal nullifiers?” He finally asked, only mildly incredulously.

Sam snorted, “I like to think it’s more like the Cybertrons version of Ask Jeeves.” He joked, figuring of all of the people he knew Will might actually get the reference.

There was a soft knock on the door and Will stood to let First Aid in, a brand new breakfast tray clasped in the holoform's hands. Sam felt a little bit like a kid again like how his mom would bring him food when he was sick and the pang of sadness/nostalgia he felt whenever the subject of his parents availed itself shot the levity right out of the room.

First Aid carefully set the tray astride his lap and Sam looked at the soup, which looked too nice to have come from a can, and a sandwich that looked handmade, if slightly too aesthetically pleasing. “Oh First Aid, this looks great.” He admitted gratefully. Even though he wasn't hungry he couldn't deny it looked delicious.

The holoform nodded, “Eat slowly.” He instructed, telegraphing his movements as he checked Sam’s temperature first and then his blood pressure. “If you can finish this I’m hoping we can do a full assessment on vitals this evening.”

Sam scrunched his face, “Oh yeah, that’s super motivating.” He snarked a bit.

First Aid gave him a raised eyebrow. “We need to get your baselines, if for no other reason than to have something to assess against when we get you feeling better.” He explained patiently, hands on his hips.

Averting his eyes and picking up the spoon, Sam frowned. “What if there isn't ‘feeling better’ kind of illness?” He asked quietly, pressing on the bowl of the spoon with the pad of his thumb. 

The others glanced at each other before Lennox sat down again. “Well, that's one of the things we're going to have to figure out. With the Cybertronians being our first encounter with extraterrestrial life and both of our peoples hopes of a mutually beneficial partnership going forward, it's been agreed that right now you are a top priority for I.C.E.R. because of your memories and incredibly specific knowledge base.” he explained. “The Cybertronians have become incredibly invested in your book series, and correspondingly invested in you.”

Frowning at the seeming non-sequitur, Sam looked at the two of them in confusion. 

First Aid was the one to respond. “The context your books have lent to our understanding of the war has been invaluable. We've lost billions of actors to the stage of our history. We don't know how we ended up in such a destructive war or really much of the history of our own people prior to the war because of how much devastation and loss we've suffered.” He disclosed.

“The slaughter of the Senate happened about ten million years ago. The dismantling of the Great Libraries were not long after, and we have lost nearly all of our librarians and data archivists in the subsequent megaannum. Most of the populace from that time, from those places, are either gone or are unwilling to share their experiences. We finally have access to a resource that can provide an explanation for at least some of it. We're invested in learning more.” 

Sam felt his insides twist from the grief. He knew the Great Libraries, could still see those rainbow halls and the great data crystal’s at their centers spinning a resplendent sapphire blue.

But…

”How do you know I am even accurate? I could be making it all up, it could be a grand coincidence. I could just be imagining it." He word vomited.

First Aid frowned, nodding. "While that is a possibility, it's becoming a more remote possibility with every new interaction. You know details about my world that no human could know. You described the towers of Iacon as gleaming in your novel." He sighed, a look of longing and nostalgia clearly evident there. "You know about Mech's long gone who we can only parse their identities by cross referencing with the data we do have. If it's a farce, it's an astronomically unlikely and accurate one." He allowed.

Sam didn't know what to make of that. He felt it was real in his bones, that all of it was, and now that he was finally being believed he found himself regurgitating the painful refrain he had heard thousands of times. 

"We may not know why this has happened to you, Sam, but we're dedicated to helping to understand it with you." The holoform said in a tone that would have done a certain Prime very proud. “But that is a discussion for a much later time. Come on, your soup's temperature has decreased appreciably during our discussion.” He informed Sam before turning to address Lennox. “Epps wanted me to inform you that your accommodations have been erected and that Agent Thomas wishes to speak with you.”

Sam turned from his soup and gaped at the both of them, “Epps is here too?”

Lennox stood, nodding thanks to First Aid before turning to Sam with a smirk. “I told you you weren't the only one I'd met who had stopped aging, didn't I? Eat your dinner, I'll be by in a bit later to check on you before my jet lag hits.”

Sam snorted, “You don't need to check in on me like a kid.”

Will gave him a gimlet eyed look, “With that excuse for facial hair? Might as well be.”

“Oh fuck you, Lennox.” Sam couldn't help but laugh, finally dipping his spoon into the soup and taking a bite, humming appreciatively at the taste. The General smiled back at Sam and left, patting the holoform on the shoulder as he did so. 

First Aid watched the General leave before turning to Sam. “I'm afraid I'll never understand certain human interactions. If you would like some privacy, I can leave you to your meal?”

Sam frowned thoughtfully. Generally speaking, talking with people, spending time with people was incredibly draining. Sitting with Will…well, General Lennox, hadn't been. The good day vibes he’d had since this morning should have been completely squashed after the afternoon he'd had, but they lingered and Sam wondered if it was because he didn't have to hide his crazy today. Hell, he'd reveled in it a little bit. 

Turning to First Aid, Sam smiled tentatively. “If you'd like to keep me company, I'd appreciate it.” He admitted.

First Aid smiled back before taking Lennox’s chair. Sam gazed at him a bit shyly, spinning his spoon in his bowl. “Can you tell me how reconstruction is going? Are there any gleaming towers in Iacon again?” He invited the mech to share.

First Aid startled before smiling gently. “Yes, the towers are being rebuilt.” He said fondly, before telling Sam about the slow but steady progress that was still ongoing.

A great many of the cities that had been under Decepticon rule for millions of years had been in such poor condition that most had had to be straight up abandoned except for scrappers and the, unfortunately, quite healthy underground black market and criminal syndicates had taken over. With billions dead, there were a correspondingly large amount of parts available for the plucking by those unscrupulous enough to do so.

With the security forces stretched so thin trying to patrol these zones had been impossible and had thus been abandoned in favor of maintaining peace and order in the populated sections of the planet.

Sam frowned at his sandwich sadly. “They aren't getting any kind of funeral rights?” 

They cropped up, the funerals. You couldn't have his type of memories and not see them. Some were grand, elaborate affairs which included an honor guard and a cavalcade to one of the great temples to Primus. Some cities: Vos, Tarn, Koan, had had stunning temples made of clear iridescent aluminum and carbon crystal structures that had gleamed against the warm crimson sky like diamonds. Others were much smaller, quieter affairs for those with more modest means. 

But even the Cold Constructed and Split-Spark masses had been entitled to the words of a Primusian Priest, even during the Clampdown*. Something to help guide their sparks back to the Well of Sparks where all would again be one with Primus. 

First Aid winced, “We…well, even now the ecclesiastical ranks are incredibly few. We simply don't have the mech power to attempt it. We've taken to doing mass services to give them the hope of returning, but it's a slow process as is without the added step of waiting for one of the few of the Primusian Order or even those of the Guiding Hand to make an appearance at every processing center.” He said, almost apologetically. 

Something twisted in Sam's sternum at the thought of so many first, gone, and second without the ability to return home. Sam wasn't particularly religious in human terms, he'd been a the Jewish equivalent to a Christmas and Easter Christian when he'd lived with his parents. However, he was more willing to believe in a divine mechanical power having seen both his friend and enemy resurrected from death personally, not to mention the tons of other crazy shit he’d experienced over the years that had no practical explanation. There were even vague memories of Primus himself that he had a big 'no not touch with a tun foot pole' note attached. Part of it was probably ‘any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic', but he couldn't deny that his entire life since he was actually 17 could only be explained by hand waving and higher order powers bullshit. 

“That's so sad.” He finally admitted. He had made more progress with his soup than his sandwich but couldn't stomach another bite of either. His natural reserves, already low, were dipping into dangerous levels already. He could feel exhaustion leadening his bones and weighing down his eyelids. 

First Aid nodded. “Some of our people have been doing their best to repeat the rituals, but it's impossible to tell if it helps. We've been collecting who we can from distant battlefields but there are simply so many and some that were never recorded in either the Autobot or Decepticon logs, so we don't know where many of our people ended up, lost in space. We've managed to find many to be repatriated home for reintegration if they live or be put to rest if they’ve passed. We've even managed to find small enclaves of neutrals or deserters. Each one, even the Decepticon ones, are a welcome addition to our people.”

Sam nodded drowsily, “That's great.” He mumbled, just on this side of sleep. “There are so many…just waiting to come home...” he mumbled as his eyes sealed shut and his brain decided that ‘off’ was a perfectly acceptable mode without his input. 

Sam wasn't prone to restful sleep. Sleeping aids, over the counter and prescribed medical grade ones, didn’t do a lick of good for his actual sleep quality. He'd found that rather than easing him into a more restful form of sleep they'd just locked him in with the nightmares, unable to awaken. The only medication that had shown any positive effect on his rest was propofol, the medication that killed Michael Jackson, and when he'd found that out he'd flat out refused any additional medication in the same family much to the chagrin of both the medical staff and his parents. It wasn't entirely that the medication helped him sleep so much as it reduced the other issue that affected those around him. 

The screaming. 

Sam was roused, confused and terrified, by someone’s hands grasping his shoulders tightly and shaking him. Without conscious thought he drew an arm back and only realized he'd punched the figure above him when they gave a yelp of pain and fell away. In what could have been the blink of an eye Sam was out of the bed and scrabbling at the wall, screaming in terror as the horrors from his sleep manifested in his waking world. Nothing made sense for a very long while after that.

Sam came back to himself slowly, confused but aware a long stretch of time later, felt more in his bones than his head. The room was illuminated by a sliver of light from under his door, dim but enough that he could see by it.

He was huddled in the corner of his room tucked between his dresser and the wall in a gap just wide enough to hide his body in and be protected from on three sides, arms wrapped tightly around his knobby knees and shaking, quietly begging to be left alone. 

The room was otherwise quiet, but the main room outside wasn’t. He could hear activity beyond his bedroom door and it confused his shocky mind, was he back in an institution? Didn’t he live alone now? Why were there people here?

Trying to remember brought the night terror back like a hammer blow between his eyes. But with it the normality of having a night terror triggered his coping mechanisms like a muscle memory. Jerkily, he went through his list: Control your breathing. Categorize the visuals. Look around and register where he really was. 

His voice, raspy and aching, stilled as he switched from begging to breathing and his eyes roved around the room, categorizing what he was seeing. The change in angle from his usual spot was a novelty and it took him longer to recenter because of it. He stared at the wall and the side of his bed, the window just above it, his wooden clock. With those solid and present in his world, he could expand to remember beyond the immediate. 

The memories of the last couple of days seeped in and he groaned, realizing why there were people noises. He imagined that he’d screamed whoever had been asleep awake and left everyone in a foul mood like he always did. Hands in his shins, gripping probably too hard, he focused on grounding himself in his own body so the anxiety of the reactions to his episode couldn’t blossom into a panic attack. It was an old hat, but one he hadn’t had to wear in a while and it felt foreign for a time until he found the well worn edges and could finally slip it back on.

The adrenalin that had him feeling amped finally ran its course and dissipated from his system, leaving him shaken and weak. In its wake he felt too raw and would have just leaned his head against the wall and fallen asleep, but having done so too many times in the past and in no mood to be laid up with a crick in his neck the next day, he carefully slid out from his hiding place. Distal sensation came back suddenly when he realized that he was absolutely soaking with icy fear sweat and thus also shivering in the cool air so hard his hands were barely functional.

His body felt barely responsive as he slowly trembled his way into a hunched but standing position, using his arms to steady himself against the wall to offset his noodly legs. He stood like that for a time, just trying to stabilize himself before committing to walking on colt fresh legs back to the bed, collapsing onto the foot of it like a marionette with it's strings cut.

He laid like that, staring up at the dresser and wall of the room blankly for an indeterminate amount of time before there was a tentative knock at his bedroom door. Sam debated not responding, he wasn’t necessarily fit for public consumption on his best days and he imagined right now he was worse by far, but people only knocked when they needed something, so after a long moment he gave a weak, “Yeah?”.

There was a pause at the door before it slowly opened and First Aid’s worried face appeared, expression deeply concerned. “Sam? Are you back with us?” He asked tentatively.

Slowly blinking, Sam made a soft grunt of ascent. “Yeah, I’m back.” He rasped.

The wash of relief on First Aid’s face should have been nigh impossible for someone who hadn’t been born with a human face, but the effect of it clinching Sam’s exhausted heart was the same either way. He’d worried First Aid, who had been nothing but kind to him, who didn’t deserve that. A proverbial chink in the armor, First Aid’s concern stabbed like a knife to the heart and the little bit of dissociation that had cocooned him and kept him functional crumbled under those big blue eyes and Sam’s shoulder’s hunched as he began to rapidly decompress. 

He was sobbing before he could consciously register his body's actions, great rolling raw gasps of air that rattled his frame. This time when hand’s touched him he barely flinched, what little energy he had recovered was stolen like a thief in the night by his body's inevitable need to release the stress after first the night terror and then the waking terror that followed. Solid and warm, First Aid helped Sam to sit up before he wrapped an arm around Sam and uncritically offered his support.  

Sam leaned into that presence; it was normal to cry after a trauma, it was a feature of PTSD, not a bug. While he was mortified by others playing witness to his episode he lacked the control to mitigate the reality of his situation. No matter how much distance, both physical and emotional, he put between himself and his trauma it followed like Ahab seeking his white whale.

Inevitable as the sun is to rise though, Sam cried himself out, hands pressed to his face. The arm around his shoulder gave a gentle squeeze. “What do you need?” 

Quiet for a time, he gave the question the due diligence it deserved and did a self evaluation. His eyes felt gummy and gross, his mouth had the sour taste of dehydration. He was freezing. His hand throbbed and he pulled it back to see a purpling bruise where the IV had been ripped from the delicate skin of the back of his hand, and a split knuckle... “I’m…pretty not okay. Did I hurt someone?” He frowned in confusion, looking at his knuckles. 

First Aid tightened his arm. “You surprised Barricade.” He explained quietly. “One of the few sensor abilities that we still have out here is our aural faculties, our hearing, and when you were in distress he barged in without assessing the situation. When he tried to wake you, you responded to him as a threat and reacted accordingly. You struck his holoform in the nose. His sensory array, what our holoforms derive from, attempted to mimic the sensory input like a human would, and he received an unprocessable pain signal and it caused him to release his holoform.”

Sam stared at First Aid, incredulous and at the same time deeply ashamed. While on principle he hated the former Decepticon, this Barricade had done nothing to deserve his ire. Though Barricade had brought the full weight of I.C.E.R. down into his humble valley, he had ostensibly done so out of concern or at least parallel self serving interest. 

Staring at the blood on his hand, Sam closed his eyes. “I didn’t mean to.” He whispered.

First Aid rubbed his back, pausing at though just noticing that Sam was shivering. “Let’s get you back under the covers, your temperature is 34°C.” He advised, maneuvering Sam up the bed and back into his earlier spot. Sam was disconcerted with how easily the holoform moved him, like he was a stuffed animal. That thought was immediately waylaid when he realized that the bed was cold and wet with undried fear sweat, but it was an old annoyance. It’d dry by morning like it always did.

Pulling the covers comfortably around Sam, First Aid gave him a sympathetic frown. “I would like to readminister your IV. I can also provide a more appropriate benzo to help you relax.”

Sam shook his head, “We’ll just have a repeat of this dog and pony show. My nightmares don’t improve with medication.” He explained miserably.

Quiet for a moment, First Aid processed that before nodding. “Then let us at least make you more comfortable for now. We have Gatorade, I’d like you to have one if you can while I bandage your hand before trying for sleep again. I expect that you are quite dehydrated.” He stated pointedly.

Sam nodded slightly, watching as First Aid un-subspaced both a bottle of Gatorade and a basic wound treatment kit. Handing the Gatorade to Sam he professionally got to the business of treating the IV wound where Sam had yanked the delicate equipment out of his own body in his haste to escape the vestiges of his nightmares. Sam could only watch with detached interest as he drank from the bottle. It looked worse than it was, the skin purpling with trapped blood but the injury site little more than a prick. It was tender, but First Aid other than doing a gentle palpation of the area didn’t apply enough pressure at any point as to cause pain.

The business done, he subspaced any of the little bits of detritus that always come with individually packaged items and stood up, taking the surprisingly empty bottle from Sam's other hand and headed towards the closed door. As he opened the door Sam perked suddenly. “First Aid?” He called, causing the medic to turn towards him again. “Can you let Barricade know that I’m sorry for hitting him?”

First Aid smiled, “Oh, he knows.” He said enigmatically before leaving, pulling the door mostly closed behind him.

The outside room was quieter, but he could still hear movement, soft voices. It was foreign to him now, the presence of others, and as he listened to First Aid walking to the fridge, the hard light figures footsteps mimicking the weight of a human man of the same size, Sam had a moment of panic that there were people in his sanctum. It wasn’t much, Sam would be the first to acknowledge that hard nugget of truth, but it had been his safe place for decades and now there were people, strangers but not, in it.

When First Aid returned, his features pinched with concern, Sam’s breathing had quickened slightly.

Closing the door behind him, First Aid pulled the chair closer to the bed and popped the top on another bottle of red Gatorade. “Sam?”

Raising his hand to his chest, Sam rubbed the tightness there. “Are people in my house?” 

First Aid blinked in confusion, before nodding. “Generals Epps and Lennox. After your episode they have elected to be nearby as a precautionary measure.”

“Just them?” Sam asked uncertainly. 

The holoform nodded. “I was the only one present before your episode but with how poorly your reaction to Barricade was they feel having additional hands experienced with nightmares present would be advisable.” He explained. “They are worried about you.”

Just Epps and Lennox. Sam might not know these specific versions of the two men, but he’s known another version of them well enough to babysit both Lennox and Epps' daughters a couple times over the summer break before college when Bee had been needed personally for N.E.S.T. operations. Sam had been left safely at the Lennox house with Sarah and Monique and the hoard of little girls in Wisconsin while the rest of the team had gone out to clear out nests of Decepticons who had followed the siren call of war and chaos to the speck of blue millions of lightyears from home.

Sam raised a hand and pressed finger and thumb to his eyes. “I’m fine.” The way First Aid’s mouth pinched when Sam looked at him caused him to roll his eyes. “I’m either well enough or fucked up, insecure, neurotic and emotional; take your pick which one.” He laughed to himself bitterly. “I’ve been doing this for a long time, 'Aid. Hasn’t killed me yet.” 

First Aid went completely still for a second before getting the most peculiar look on his face, raising his hand to his own chest in obvious confusion. Sam made a soft inquiring noise but First Aid seemed to shake it off and instead handed Sam the new Gatorade and a small yellow pill.

At Sam’s look he clarified, “Lorazepam. It’s a low dosage to help your agitation.” 

Sam looked the pill over, “They used to give these to me like candy when I was committed.” He said ruefully, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen the low dose variety before.” He shrugged before popping it in his mouth and taking a sip from the bottle. 

Unable to hide his not so subtle disdain, First Aid huffed. “A common treatment for those more interested in warehousing their patients than actually treating them.”

Shrugging, Sam took another sip of the beverage - his body really was desperate for the hydration. “I mean, it wasn’t like I could leave if I ‘got better’ really anyway.” He mused. At First Aid's dumbfounded look Sam clarified. “I was committed as a condition of my not going to federal prison for breaking and entering a national monument in a moment of mania.” He explained, doing his best not to focus on why he had been at the Hoover Dam. “Even when I got better enough to be considered functional I was kept there for years before I was released to my parents. I was still…you know, pretty crazy, so I can’t fault them for that. I don’t get better with meds or therapy, the only thing that’s helped is isolation. If no one can see the crazy then it's fine.”

First Aid looked troubled. “Do you consider yourself mentally unwell, Sam?”

Sam scoffed, “Crazy people never think they’re crazy.” He rebuffed.

First Aid’s lips pursed, “Sam, I asked if you feel that you are mentally unwell. Crazy is a pejorative in your own language for people with mental health issues.”

Unable to look at the medic in the eye, Sam took a fortifying drink of his bottle. “Until Barricade showed up, I had no way of knowing that you were real. I still don’t, I am terrified I’m hallucinating this. I’ve been caught in visions so real I could taste the smoke in the air.” He choked quietly. “I try so hard to figure reality from not but it’s impossible to keep them straight sometimes. If you’re real then it’s all true, if you aren’t I have a massive, complex hallucination structure in my head that is manifesting in my waking world. I don’t know if I’m mentally well, I know that everything reasonable points to me being unwell.” He said, looking at the ingredients list on the bottle, not reading a single word.

Nodding his head, eye pensive, First Aid nodded. “I can see how disconcerting that could be.” He finally settled on.

They’d only been talking for a few minutes, ten at most, but the loose body feel Sam had come to associate with benzos was already lowering his ambient anxiety despite the topic matter. “I just want you to be real. I don’t want to live like a hermit in the woods forever like some macabre fairy tail.” he said, surprised to find that the bottle was nearly empty when he brought it to his lips. Sam shook his head, “I’m dumping too much on you, we just met, it’s not fair to do that.” He admonished himself, the combination of the benzo and his own exhaustion making his mouth feel loose.

Shaking his head, First Aid took the bottle from Sam’s slightly trembling fingers. “You’ve been alone out here for too long, Sam. Your kind, like ours, doesn’t do well in isolation.” There was a moment before his blue eyes found Sam’s. “If it’s any consolation, to me it doesn’t feel like we’ve just met. It feels…well, a lot more like spending time with a long lost comrade. One who needs help.”

Smiling a little, Sam nodded fuzzily, “I like that.” He admitted. There was a pause and Sam knew sleep was coming. “Can you stay? When I--when I sleep. Could you stay?” He begged. 

Brows rising, the holoform nodded. “Of course Sam. I’ll keep you company while you sleep.”

Nodding, Sam rolled over and curled up on his side, his face towards First Aid. “Thanks.” Before settling into a more comfortable position and allowing his breathing to even out as his mind slowed to a crawl steadily.

He almost didn’t register the “You’re welcome.” before oblivion took him.

Chapter Text

Morning found Sam awake just before the sun, blinking in the dim light of the bedside lamp. 

His sleep had been…odd. When his rest had started to devolve into another cycle of night terrors he had instead been roused by a soothing voice and gentle hands until he had shrugged sleep off and had found himself partially awake again, out of the nightmare cycle, before he’d been allowed to slip into sleep once more. He’d never truly woken up, just roused enough to be aware that he had been sleeping, before he was back.

Sam wasn’t used to this method of sleep, but by morning he was feeling surprisingly well rested, better than most nights in any case.

From living with Bee for years, Sam was aware that Cybertronians didn’t need to recharge nearly as much or as often as humans just as they didn’t need to refuel as frequently. Still, when First Aid roused him yet again Sam blinked muzzily up at the mech and didn’t feel the need to immediately go back to sleep. Glancing at his clock, the wooden one affixed to the wall, he shook his head and rubbed the knuckle of his hand against his eyes. 

Sleepily, he regarded First Aid who was sitting in the chair looking none the worse for wear for his long night of service. “Whatever Optimus is paying you, you should get a raise.” He quipped to the man around a yawn. “I’d pay you, but I don’t know what the conversion rate is between dollars and shanix*.”

First Aid chuckled a bit, “I am adequately compensated, Sam.” He explained. “How are you feeling?”

Shrugging, Sam sat up more fully and stretched his back. “Better than normal. I didn’t have another screaming fit, did I?” He asked reluctantly but curiously. It wouldn’t be the first time he had no memory of having one. He could still remember times when he’d thought he’d gotten away with a night of sleep only to have his parents' exhausted faces greet him in the morning. It had been disheartening to learn he’d merely slept through the night terror while disturbing everyone else.

The holoform shook his head. “No, you were fairly amenable to being interrupted at the beginning stages of what would have likely been another episode.” First Aid paused, regarding Sam with a look of hesitancy. “Sam, do you remember what you were dreaming about?”

Furrowing his brows, Sam closed his eyes for a moment to try to recall. It was only fits and flashes, but he was familiar enough with this nightmare that he didn’t need to think too hard on it to remember what it had been about. “Just a bad memory of something that didn’t happen here.” He sighed, eyes drifting to look at his mothers picture like he usually did when he felt a bit unmoored, grounding himself in more pleasant memories.

First Aid nodded, but his face was still pinched. “Were you speaking with someone?”

Rubbing his mouth with the back of his hand (gross he hadn’t brushed his teeth and they now felt like something was growing on them), Sam shrugged. “Maybe? Was I talking?”

After a moment, First Aid nodded tentatively. “Yes, but…it wasn’t in English. It wasn’t in any Earth based language I’m familiar with.” He explained quietly. “It…well, it sounded a bit like NeoCybex - but different.”

Sam stared at him for a long moment, his mind stuck in first gear and unwilling to shift up in complexity to take on more context in this conversation. “Huh?”

Looking on the precipice of giving up, First Aid rallied one last time. While what he said would have sounded like: “A̸͇̺̗̒̽̇͝l̴̘̓̉̓́ṣ̶̈́ ̸͎̣̤̤̂͑́͒d̸̯͎̃̔̌̾ṳ̸͐̀̓̎ ̵̠̤͂ǵ̷̣e̴̪͆̈̈̕s̷̫̺̚ṗ̸̐ͅr̵̛͉̮͓ó̴͓͖̙c̴͚͝ḧ̸̩͆̑̇ͅę̸̙͗̾͝n̸̪̿ ̶̛͕h̷̘̪͂͗a̸̠͊̉s̸̢̧̬̯͐͠ț̴̛̯͌̌,̸̿̾͜ ̸̙̅̄̾w̸̖͕͓͉͆ḁ̵̰̒r̵̙͕͖̭̐̈̐̒ ̶̦̞̹̆̀̑̚ḓ̵̂̈́̇͜ì̸̱̹̻̐͆ȇ̵͉͐̌̄ ̴̧͎͕͒̎̎S̸̻͉̓͒̋̇p̵̡̛͉̣r̸̠̩̻͊̇̃ͅâ̵̩̠̤̣c̷̡̮͇͂ḩ̷̙̀̿́e̵̢̯͉̓͘ ̴̛̞̟͛̓́≠̛̬̒̍=̵̜̊=̶͇̮̬̆ͅ ̷̛̯͖̜̯͌̈́!̶̧͓͋̃̇g̶̩̑l̶̩̈͒̊ē̴͉̟̰̯͗̊̚ḯ̴͙͉̥̈̉c̵̢͎̬̗͐̒̓̈́h̴̦̯̔̈́̓̚,̶̛̳̻͖ ̴̛͚̇́ä̶̩̥͕̈̒l̷̼̋̍̄̾t̷͈̹͋̒̍̅e̷̲̱͌r̷̞͍̯͂͛͗͜ ψ” to anyone else, any human especially, all Sam heard was“::You were speaking[mumbling] like this - but different[older?]::.” from the others holoform, the Cybertronians true multi-tonal voice and just like that Sam’s brain clicked into a kind of translation mode. 

The thing about all Cybertronian languages that Sam had ever heard, and he’d heard a lot of them over the years, was that it was complicated by not only the technical word, but the tones associated with it and a series of additional signifiers that only another being with the correct equipment could receive, let alone understand. The older languages like the Primal Vernacular and Old Cybertronian were less complicated, less nuanced by those subtleties. He found them easier in many respects to understand because while those complications were still present they were far fewer. 

In Sam’s dreams and in his visions, the languages didn’t sound like English, but he could comprehend them like they did for the most part. Seeker incorporated physics in their language and had 30 words for up with different signifiers for directionality and velocity, for example, which while he could comprehend he didn’t really understand. This was the first time since he’d arrived that he’d heard anything of Cybertronian origin spoken aloud though. The experience of it was visceral, like listening to music and math at their most naturally elevated forms.

“No, I couldn’t have.” He denied, rubbing harder at his mouth.

Something in First Aid’s features changed, like he’d gotten a confirmation he hadn’t wanted. “::You understand me.::” He said in a kind of resignation.

Shrugging his thin shoulders, Sam frowned, “I mean, yeah? It’s…” He paused. “I’m sorry, I haven’t heard it spoken aloud before, not and understood.” He tried to explain in wonder.

Nodding, the holoform leaned back. “We need to get hydration in you.” First Aid stated, changing the subject so abruptly that Sam almost got whiplash from the shift. Sam could only nod as First Aid stood and left the room in brisk steps, closing the door firmly behind him.

Had…had he offended First Aid?

There was a long moment where Sam sat in confusion, trying to replay where he’d fucked up but nothing was registering specifically other than his newly discovered ability to understand modern Cybertronian. About to get up to pursue the holoform, Sam was interrupted when there was a soft knock on the closed door as Lennox popped it open. The man looked…well, haggard and Sam’s swell of guilt suddenly changed focus and grew noticably. The older man, and wasn’t that weird when Sam was pushing 80 now, nodded to Sam and swung the door open to join him.

Feeling like a heel, Sam folded his legs under his quilted blanket and quietly accepted the cup of coffee that Will handed him before the big man sat in the chair that First Aid had just abandoned. Sam winced at the man’s complexion, the warmth and temperature of light unable to hide the pallor of poor sleep in Will’s face. 

Taking a sip of the coffee for liquid courage before apologizing to the General, Sam instead had to stop and look down at his mug in confusion. “This is good.” he said, befuddled, because this clearly didn’t come from his cupboards.

Lennox huffed a laugh, “Sideswipe bought the good stuff when he was in town. Considering what you had, he's getting a commendation from me when we get back to base.” The man's mouth twisted into a smile as he joked easily.

Anxiety twisting in his gut, Sam looked at Will. “I’m sorry I…” He gestured at the bed. For a man whose livelihood depended on words he was suddenly at a loss for them.

The level of understanding in those eyes caused Sam to avert his own, lifting the cup to further shield himself. Lennox raised his own cup and drank deeply, eyes closing. “My first deployment was during the Gulf War.” He said thoughtfully. “Operation Desert Shield. I was…18? Four generations of Lennox’s in my family had served in the army and I knew it was what I wanted to do since I saw my grandpa in his uniform on the mantel as a kid. The reality was different from the fantasy.” He said ruefully. “Do you remember much about the 90’s Gulf War?”

Sam shook his head, staring at Lennox with widened eyes.

The man sighed, “No, you’d have been too young. That’ve been around when you were born.” He said contemplatively. “It was a civil war, which I’ve come to find to be the worst kind of war. Neighbor fighting against neighbor, family member against family member, it’s personal. You can’t be prepared for the horrors that people, human or otherwise, are willing to commit against their own in order to assert their will. I started having nightmares not long after I stepped off the plane.” He focused back on Sam. “We aren’t designed to deal with certain kinds of stress, and we’re definitely not designed to deal with them alone.”

Giving a bitter little huff, Sam considered the possibility that the coffee was an attempt to bribe him into this conversation. “At least what you saw was real, other people saw it too. I can’t explain why the smell of an electrical fire makes me want to cut my nose off and sound like a reasonable person.” He chided. “Even the most censored version got me a new cocktail of antipsychotics and centra nervous system depressants.” He rubbed his thumb on the coffee cup for a quiet moment before cutting a glance to the General, “How did you deal with it?”

The man’s eyes, even with the bags under them, were compelling as he responded. They were always compelling, the bastard was almost as inspirational as Optimus when he wanted to be. “I found someone I could trust, and I talked about my nightmares with them. We have people at I.C.E.R. who are far better equipped than any other facility to help you manage and work through even your worst symptoms, people who will believe you and not throw medication at you trying to figure out what sticks.” He explained.

Scrunching his nose, Sam looked away. “Fat load of good that does me. I can’t leave. I can’t even really go into town anymore, I get migraines from all the noise the moment I’m off the property.” He muttered. “Everything is so loud and weird now. It was bad enough when everyone had cell phones, now they have those…” He gestured at his head.

“The HUD’s?” Will answered. 

Slicing the air with his hand, Sam nodded. “Yeah! The fuck even are those?” He groused.

Laughing, Will shook his head. “You look like a teenager but you sound like my Grandfather.” He smirked at Sam’s deadpan look. “They’re a computer. It does everything that your phone can do and everything a laptop can do but in a pair of ‘stylish’ glasses. Even I will admit that they are pretty handy.”

Sam’s face didn’t improve, “They’re nails on a chalkboard and a pickax to the back of the skull, is what they are. They make the worst noise out of everything, and they’re everywhere now.”

Nodding, Will at least acknowledged that point. “True, I’ve had to deal with everyone complaining since we got here about their sets not working. That and the auto navigation systems. It’s like everyone’s forgotten how to manually drive.” He said ruefully. “No one appreciates unplugging for a while.”

Sam was reminded of his Dad deliberately making him leave his gadgets in the car when they’d gone on vacation to the family cabin. It was ostensibly his grandmothers but since she was in assisted care and they were the only ones still in California, it ended up by default being theirs. While he’d hated being stuck in the cabin without his toys at the time, he remembered those sunny summer days fondly later, just him and his parents and the woods around them. 

The cabin had burned down in 2025, long after his grandmother had passed and almost two decades since his parents had taken him last. It’d been wrapped up in a trust and the payout on the insurance had covered a new experimental therapy his mother had read about that had involved sonic waves. The first and only session had caused him to get so nauseous he’d projectile vomited all over the technician. They’d been lucky just to lose the deposit.

Unable to help himself, Sam gave him a grumpy look. “Most of them have never not been connected, I’d imagine.” He huffed. He was inches from saying ‘back in my day’ but withheld out a modicum of self awareness. “I mean, what do I know? I’m basically retired off grid in a cabin in the woods, I’m aware I’m the weird one. The newest piece of technology in the house is the instant water heater, and it’s gotta be about 50 years old and runs on propane.”

Will rolled his eyes at that, “I did notice your luddite proclivities. That fridge in the kitchen has to be from the 1950’s.”

Smirking a bit, Sam corrected him. “It’s from the 1930’s, same as the house. Works fine, saw no reason to fix what wasn’t broken. Besides, could you imagine trying to back a delivery truck down that road? I was lucky the last hermit who lived out here left the furniture, saved me the hassle of trying to get any kind of movers back this way.”

Nodding, Will leaned back before changing the subject. “I asked Steeljaw to track down all of your signal nullifiers. I’m hoping between the engineering skills of super advanced sentient mechanoid life forms and our ‘boffins’, we might be able to come up with a solution for the signal issues you’ve been having. Maybe something a bit more localized and mobile.” He stressed. 

Sam nearly spit his coffee, “You set Steeljaw loose on the property, to find the nullifiers? Are you crazy?”

Lennox frowned thoughtfully, “No?” He paused, considering, “You don’t seem to like him that much.”

In annoyance, Sam gestured towards the window. “Because I am familiar with his antics. He’s…well, self serving is a nice way of putting it. He is incredibly intelligent and very dedicated to his goals, but I don’t know what those are right now. He has been in and out of prison since he was forged for one scheme or another, he's managed to stay mostly in the good graces of the law because he's a...hm, Cassette I guess, build.” He huffed. “Whatever he’s doing isn’t what you think he’s doing. He’s going to exploit this situation with the nullifiers somehow for sure!”

Taking a sip of his coffee, Lennox leaned forward with an understanding look. “If I’d sent just Steeljaw, I’d understand your sentiments, but I sent a team with him acting as scout. He has otherwise been under strict observation this entire time and as he has been stuck in the dead zone, he couldn't get a signal out even if he wanted to, same as us. With his help we’ve tagged most, if not all, of the nullifiers. I am placing my confidence in our security measures. In addition, he has been working with us for the last decade as an independent contractor. While he isn’t cheap, he’s also been more than fair in his dealings with us. Better than a some of the others, in any case.”

Sam was about to continue down his vein about Steeljaw when the wording of Will’s statement caught up with his brain, looking at Will in alarm. “Others? Will, what others?”

Will’s expression wouldn’t have been misplaced on someone who had just stepped in a pile of dog droppings unexpectedly. “Fuck.” He muttered, rubbing his eyes. 

Not to be dissuaded, in fact quite the opposite, Sam leaned forward, “Will, what others? What’s going on?”

The older man leaned back. “Something above your clearance level but one of the many reasons that we have to prioritize getting you moved as quickly as is possible.” He explained with a sigh. “I can share some stuff, but this is really something that I am going to need a full belly and a slide show for.”

The ludicrousness of the idea that in 2067 the military was still using slide shows almost interrupted his spike in anxiety, but like a true Witwicky it would not be contained. “Am I putting you in danger?” He asked, hand going to his chest as it tightened with his standard anxiety response. 

Lennox followed his hand, face concerned, before something in his expression twisted and he sighed. “No, Sam, quite the opposite unfortunately.” He took a long draw of his coffee before standing. “Grab a shower. There will be breakfast in--” He checked his watch, an old metal wrist one, “--about 20 minutes in the mess tent. After breakfast we’ll have a briefing and some of your questions will be answered then.” He nodded, before heading towards the door.

Puffed up in annoyance at being so easily dismissed, Sam set his coffee down on the table, convinced now it had been the old firebrand’s attempt at bribery, and leaned forward. “You’re a smug asshole in every dimension, you know.”

Will, turning in profile as he left, grinned. “Good to know my best qualities are universal.” And shut the door. Like a jerk.

Sam, in listening to Will’s boots taking him out of the house, could hear other people now that he was listening for them outside his window. He scooted over, moving the curtain to look out and indeed, saw a couple of pop up shelters in the flat land between the road and the cabin and people moving between them. The drive at least was now clear but he realized that was because the Cybertronians had shifted from their alt-modes and were currently standing in the distance, looking out over the lake in what was clearly a meeting. 

Sam noted there was no Steeljaw present but otherwise it looked like if not all of them, almost all of them were in the group. He could make out First Aid in the early morning light from the distinct red and white that medical personnel preferred, Barricade in his black and white for the same reason. He could see two tall red mechs, one having to be Cliffjumper and the other one likely to be Sideswipe. The Sideswipe in his world had been silver, he was pretty sure, but in his memories Sideswipe typically preferred a red alt-mode. 

Movement brought his eyes down and he stopped breathing for a second when he saw a lime green and an orange/red set of smaller mechs shift to be seen better in the group. He hadn’t seen those two yesterday. “Oh fuck me.” He groaned, remembering his own Skids and Mudflap. They were here? Had they destroyed anything yet? They’d tell him if they’d knocked down part of the forest, wouldn’t they? You didn't just keep that from a guy, even if you were a sketchy, secret keeping government agency that hung out with shape changing super advanced alien robotic life forms, right?

Sam wasn't so sure, when he put it like that to himself, that he wanted to know. 

For their part, at least, the tiny terrors appeared to be…acting normal by not their own standards, so Sam could only hope that meant that whatever differences existed in the timeline had done something, anything, to mitigate the mess that was Skids and Mudflap. He'd suffered through their antics for only a few days and that had been more than enough to not want to re-traumatize himself. 

Crawling out of bed and grabbing some fresh undergarments, Sam couldn't help but want to be a fly on the wall for whatever they were talking about. Seeing them standing there reminded Sam that something had set the medic off, even if he’d been subsequently distracted by Lennox which might have been intentional. Wouldn’t be the first time he’d seen Lennox and the bots pull off something slick on someone to get their way. He’d either figure it out eventually or it wasn’t worth bothering about, like most things in life. 

The shower was a nearly religious experience. He didn’t realize just how disgusting he’d felt until he was scrubbing the accumulation of salt, fear, and the unfortunate body odor that teenagers develop that he’d never outgrown off his person. While he’d worn an unhealthy amount of Axe body spray his first time through puberty to try to cover it up, the only person his teenage body’s BO generally offended now was himself.

Freshly washed, Sam dried his hair and frowned at the length. He barely noticed it, but he could hear his dad’s voice griping at him about it. ‘You look like some kind of hippy.’ he’d say before dragging Sam to the barber that he’d been seeing since he was 7 years old and who had still given him a sticker when he was done. While Sam hadn’t needed the sticker, the normality of the gesture, the familiarity, had been nice when he hadn’t particularly felt nice.

Sobered by that thought, Sam returned to the bedroom. Turning down the bedding, Sam leaned over to pop open the window to let the room air out. He’d change the sheets after they had had time to dry out so he wasn’t putting fresh sheets on a soaked mattress. 

The noise of a camp coming alive through the window was…weird. Louder. The stark difference between his morning now and just two days ago should have given him whiplash, after all he still complained when there were too many brands of cereal for crying out loud, but surprisingly? This kind of chaos settled him. It was almost, in its own way, comfortable. His life was always upended by giant sentient robot life forms from space, why should now be any different? The extraordinary was easy, it was the mundane that was hard.

Pulling on a different pair of thick jeans but only two layers of shirts on, Sam tentatively opened the door to his home, concerned by what he’d find there.

The main room looked much as it usually did, the kitchen and ‘dining room’ on the far side, his fat stove in the corner next to the wood, the living room in the middle with views out over the lake. Someone had clearly been using the couch to sleep on, more's the pity for them because it wasn’t a comfortable couch by any stretch of the imagination, and the chair by the window had been moved so there may have been a cot situation but it’d been tidied up if so. 

The house was blessedly empty, though, so Sam stepped out of his room and surveyed his domain. The Cybertronians were still having their discussion off in the distance, visible through the window like some kind of confusing tableau, but from this angle he could see Steeljaw’s alt-mode parked with his kickstand out at the end of one of the new tents, for all appearances in recharge though something told Sam that the Mechanimal was anything but asleep.  

Sam wasn’t sure where this feeling was coming from. It might just be classic paranoia (wouldn’t be the first time), but something in Sam, something compelling, was urging him to be aware and weary. If Barricade could hear him from the drive then it was entirely within the realm of possibility that the Mechanimal had heard him that morning arguing with Will about his reservations using of the Mechanimal for tracking on his property for what, even Sam could now recognize, was equipment that could offer a distinct military advantage should someone get ahold of and recreate the technology.

Glancing at his desk and typewriter in thought caused Sam to freeze and his blood to run ice cold. 

His manuscript was gone. 

Forgetting all about Steeljaw and signal nullifiers, Sam was out his front door and onto the porch, looking around for Lennox, Epps, hell, he’d settle for First Aid if it got him an explanation as to where his life’s work was.

There were fewer people than the day prior, most looking unhappy to be awake, but Sam bypassed them easily and was quick to locate the Mess tent by the open doorway. Coming in, Sam looked around desperately until he saw Epps sitting at a folding picnic table and made a beeline for the general. 

“Hi, Epps, nice to see you, where is my manuscript?” He demanded with his hands on the weird plastic feeling surface of said table.

Epps, who did not look a day older than when Sam had met him at the Hoover Dam, looked up at him, startled, brow furrowing. “Witwicky?”

Sam nodded, “Yep, Sam Witwicky, author, person whose land we’re currently standing on, nutjob probably. Now, my manuscript was on my desk yesterday but now it is most definitely not and I need it.” Sam anxiously word vomited. 

Epps glanced around, setting the spoonful of eggs he’d been aiming at his mouth down on his plate. “Can’t right now, it’s in processing. It’s all considered classified.” He explained. 

“Classified? How is it classified? I’m writing about an era of history that we weren’t even bipedal for!” He said, flinging an arm out.

From behind him he heard noise and Epps’ face relaxed with relief, causing Sam to turn and find Will pulling his jacket on like he’d been summoned suddenly. His eyes took in the scene before he focused on Sam, “Hey, Sam, what’s wrong?” Will asked in a more reasonable tone than Sam felt like one should be able to utilize in the kind of situation where one finds out that their work, their life’s work, had suddenly been snatched by government agencies and declared classified. 

Sam stood at his full height. 5’5” was admittedly noticeably shorter than Will who wasn’t himself particularly tall but Sam defaulted to the power position in fear. “My manuscript, Will! It’s gone. I need it.” He said, slapping his hand on the table.

Lennox winced, looking behind Sam at Epps before raising his hands in a placating gesture that rubbed Sam right the wrong way. “Sam, I can understand that this is all a bit scary right now but--” He cut off Sam who had himself been about to interrupt, “--your manuscript has incredibly classified intelligence in it, was out in the open, and there was only a single copy. We took your manuscript to protect it. You’ll be getting it back once it’s been processed and we’ve gotten you the correct security clearance.”

Sam gaped at him, “Security clearance? Why would I need security clearance to handle something that I made?” He exclaimed in frustration. 

Epps finally joined in. “Government Bureaucracy at work, mostly. Because it has a security level now, until you do you can’t gain access to it.”

Sam raised his hands to his face and dragged them down his skin in maddened frustration. “It’s a book about a race of beings that humanity doesn’t even know exist!”

Will winced, “They don’t know that they exist yet.”

Blinking through his fingers, Sam looked at Will in confusion and sudden apprehension. “Yet?”

The man nodded, gesturing at the table Epps was sitting at, “Yet.” He sighed. “Sit down, I’ll grab us both some breakfast and we can sit and speak like rational adults for a minute.” He stated in a particularly pointed way that Sam did not particularly appreciate.

Barking a laugh, Sam sat at the table and put his head in his hands. “Fuck.” He breathed. The sound of continued eating caused Sam to lift his head and find a blasé Epps continuing to eat his meal like he hadn’t been interrupted. “Sorry.” He said shortly.

The older man shook his hand to wave the sentiment off, “Nah, I get it. Technically we’re classified intelligence, it makes the Holidays awkward.”

Sam straightened up, blinking. “I bet. How’re Monique and the kids?”

Epps paused, turning his full attention and regard on Sam, before pointing his fork at him. “See that? Right there? That’s one of those freaky things that makes people nervous.”

Sam’s face fell, drawing his hands together and rubbing them for warmth, worrying the bandage that First Aid had applied in the wee hours of the morning. “Sorry, it gets confusing sometimes.” He said to the table, waving at his skull. “I babysat for you, in my memories. You and Lennox." He was quiet for a moment. "There was so much My Little Pony.” He shuddered at the memory of those extremely long babysitting adventures.

Staring at Sam for a long minute, an uncomfortably long minute, with an expression like a large cat contemplating if what he saw was worth hunting, he shook his head before scooping up more eggs. “There is a sacred silence in regards to that show, may it never return.” As he briefly crossed himself.

Sam stared at him in silence, before he guffawed a laugh. “Amen.” He stated just as Lennox returned, two trays in his hands. 

He slid one over to Sam and set the other next to Epps, sitting next to his long time partner. He regarded Sam bemusedly, “Usually you bless the food once it’s arrived, not before.” He joked.

Epps took a long draw of his coffee, ignoring Will, his expression thoughtful. “Monique passed about a decade ago, cancer. The kids* are doing well, Fred and Mozzie both ended up in the armed services, retired now. Shereeka and Sheniqua went into business, got a natural body care line, sells from Target to Walmart. Sheleeka teaches Law at Rice.” He stated proudly.

Sam couldn’t help the pleased smile that stretched across his face knowing that the five of them had found such success. “You must be so proud. They were so small last time I saw them, it’s…it’s crazy to think a couple are retired now.” He shook his head before looking up at Epps with sympathy. “I’m so sorry about Monique. She was such an extraordinary person, I really respected her.”

Epps got that face that non-emotional men get when they have feelings and nodded, “Yeah, yeah she was. The universe is a dimmer place without her in it.” He finally said. Sam nodded in agreement, not sure where to go from there.

Will, bless his soul, saved him, “Monique left a legacy one can’t scoff at. You should ask him about the grandkids.” He nudged Epps who shot him a look.

He still nodded with a reluctant smile. “27 grandkids, and 34 great grandkids so far. We have to rent out an aircraft hanger for the holidays to have enough room.”

Sam stared at him with a low whistle, “Well damn.” He paused, thoughtful, before frowning. “Any of them…like us?”

Shaking his head, Epps pushed what was left of his eggs around. “Nah, not that we’ve noticed. We don’t know why we’re like this but it’s not looking hereditary.”

Looking at Lennox, the man shook his head. “No one in my family inherited it either, though my sample size is smaller than Ray’s.” He nodded to Epps. “Anna went into teaching and of her two kids and the cumulative seven great grandkids, no one has shown any kind of anomaly like us.” He shrugged. “The others’ kids have either shown no hereditary markers or they didn’t have kids before they stopped aging.”

Sam frowned at how Will worded that, “What does age stopping have to do with kids?”

Lennox and Epps shared a look before Epps set his fork down. “Once we stopped aging, we stopped being able to have kids.” He informed Sam. 

Sam stared, confused. The concept of having grandkids had fallen off his parents plate pretty quickly as soon as he’d essentially gone crazy on them and managing the life of their one child had become their sole focus and priority. Although Sam hadn’t really thought about having kids himself, because who would want to be in a relationship with a perpetually 17 year old person who wasn’t entirely located in reality most of the time, the idea that there would never be a kid had not once registered. 

Lennox sighed, “It’s the tradeoff, I guess.” He shrugged. 

After a moment of reflection, it was definitely better in his case that he couldn’t have biological kids. He could barely take care of himself, he couldn’t even conceive of the idea of having to chase a rugrat around that he couldn’t hand back to their parents at the end of the day. While it was probably for the best for him he couldn't help but feel a wave of sympathy for everyone else.

“Well damn.” He finally settled on. 

The other two nodded before Lennox used his fork to tap on Sam’s tray. “Put your mouth to good use before it goes completely cold.” He sighed. “I thought Washington was supposed to be temperate most of the year.”

Giving a snort, Sam looked at his tray. Scrambled eggs, potatoes, some kind of sausage and bacon situation which was pretty cush with the price of bacon being over $20 a pound now. He remembered balking at milk for $3 and it was solidly $15 even at the discount grocery store. How times change. 

Will misinterpreted his look, “It’s not much but we had to get this all together in a bit of a hurry, and weren’t expecting to stay out here this long.” He apologized.

Shaking his head, Sam dug in. “I was just thinking that it looked great. I haven’t had bacon in decades.” He laughed, stuffing a slice of it into his mouth. Both men reeled back in surprise. “With how expensive everything has gotten? I know the house and stuff makes me look like I have money but I’m on a pretty tight budget." He admitted.

"I’ve had people try to buy the rights to make movies and TV shows out of my work but I’m afraid that they’re going to gut the heart out of the series and kill off the integral characters for no good reason, add ridiculous graphics and degenerate any sincerity with the lowest common denominator of comedy, like ball jokes.” He huffed, thinking of how poorly most book franchises had been desecrated, “And none of the shows that got pitched are ever aimed above the tween age bracket. They see ‘robot’ in the content and are just looking for a way to sell toys. They would lose most if not all of the nuance of a galactic civil war just to make it past the censors.” He sighed, shoveling a bite of eggs into his mouth. 

Lennox blew out a whistle, “Whew, I didn’t realize that was the kind of stuff you were dealing with.”

Sam shrugged, “I’m an established author, which means I have a more solid income than most, the kids today are competing with AI and over-educated, undervalued self published internet authors, it’s a whole different ball park.” He rolled his fork as he explained. “Ultimately I can’t complain though; I was the one who bought the house and signed up for the mortgage. I have to deal with the consequences of that choice.” Breakfast was quiet after that as Sam stuffed himself with the hearty breakfast fair.

“The amount of sodium on that plate would be concerning if I wasn’t aware of the standard American diet and its egregious health consequences.” First Aid said, startling the bejeezus out of Sam, who yeeted his fork across the tent, nearly hitting a man in a suit who dodged. 

Lennox coughed a laugh, thumping his chest to clear it, causing First Aid's blue eyes to clearly assess if he was going to be required to perform the Heimlich maneuver on the General before Lennox cleared the bite himself. The medic turned back to Sam. 

Sam, who had been waving a quick apology at the agent, turned back to First Aid unsure if he’d pissed the mech off still, and gave him a tentative smile. “Meeting done?”

First Aid nodded, “Yes. Sam, if you’ll come with me, I really do need to finish your medical assessment.” First Aid stated.

Lennox frowned, “We’re going to have a briefing in a minute, First Aid. Can’t this wait?”

First Aid was acting stiffly, he was definitely uncomfortable, Sam noticed. The holoform shook his head, “Getting an accurate health assessment of Sam is a top priority, he’s already managed to avoid the assessment multiple times.” The bot said stiffly.

Sam raised his hands, “Sure, yeah, okay. I wasn’t avoiding the assessment, I’ve just not been feeling well.” He defended himself, unsure where this…hostility? brusqueness? was coming from. He stood up and gave Lennox and Epps a nod before letting First Aid lead him to where the ambulance was sitting up on the road. Sam hadn’t even felt the big mechanoid move and was surprised to see him parked. Had he been so distracted he hadn’t noticed? The others were there too, back in line, and Sam wondered if they’d just driven up the road instead so they didn’t have to deal with navigating the tree cover.

Distracted, Sam only just noticed the medic’s doors opening. Looking up at First Aid, now that they were alone, he gave the holoform a concerned look. “Whatever I said this morning, First Aid, I didn’t mean to offend you or make you mad. Sometimes I just say things and don’t know how they affect people.” He tried to explain.

Something in those blue eyes softened for a moment before hardening again. “You did not offend me Sam. Concerned? Possibly.” He said, nodding up and into the vehicle. 

Nothing for it, Sam climbed into the patient compartment, shoving his cold hands into his armpits for warmth. Seeing this, the doors closed on their own and a heater kicked on as Sam sat on the small gurney. Looking down, he wiggled thoughtfully, “Does the gurney detach? Or is it like, attached but looks like it can detach?” He asked curiously, distractedly.

Pulling out equipment from the various cabinets inside himself, which felt weird to think about, First Aid set them on the gurney next Sam. “The gurney can detach for short periods of time, but without a connection to living metal it would die within a day of being removed.” He explained. 

Sam cringed. “Ooof, best keep it in then.” He muttered to himself.

“I agree.” First Aid stated before the holoform preceded to sit on nothing to be on the same level as him. “Vitals first, then we’ll proceed to the exam. Outer garment off, please.” He said brusquely, indicating Sam’s sweater. The vitals were simple enough, the only item that he needed to put on was a PulseOx and Sam was fine with that. Next, First Aid checked Sam’s eyes, ears, nose, and throat. Sam made a concerned noise when First Aid spent a bit more time with the tongue depressor in his mouth than he was anticipating. 

After a long moment, First Aid seemed satisfied. “You retain your tonsils. Have they caused you problems in the past?” He asked, feeling down Sam’s throat with careful palpitations.

“No.” Sam responded, unable to shake his head. “Not since I was like, 8? Maybe? Never enough to complain about.”

The holoform looked thoughtful. Pulling out a stethoscope, the holoform checked his lungs before having him lay back so that he could gently palpate his abdomen, though his eyebrows creased as he did so. Sam wanted to ask what that was about but the holoform moved on, helping him up and having him put his arms out, asking him to press against the hard light form’s hands in a series of motions. First Aid seemed pleased with whatever that proved, his shoulders having over the examination loosened to a relaxed position.

His manner had also relaxed and when he held up a blood draw kit Sam was relieved enough that he’d apparently been forgiven whatever had been bothering the holoform since this morning that he didn’t do more than screw his face up. Placing a light blue medical tourniquet around Sam’s arm, First Aid tensed again feeling for a vein, wiping the area with an alcohol pad, and grabbing the blood draw needle.

He seemed particularly tense as he brought the needle to Sam’s skin. Sam, concerned, watched as the needle pierced his skin but he didn’t, like, explode or anything. It barely hurt, the medic a gentle touch. A moment later, First Aid pressed a collection ampule into the collection interface and seemed to go loose again as it began to fill with blood. 

“Thank Primus.” He muttered in English, causing Sam to look at him suspiciously. 

As First Aid switched out ampules, Sam tried to catch his eye, “Wanna share with the class?”

Having the decency to look mildly embarrassed, First Aid cleared his throat which seemed particularly ridiculous since he didn’t even have one. “After this morning, there was a greater than zero percent chance that you might have been a Pretender Frame who did not realize what you were.” He explained, switching for a third ampule now.

Sam jerked back in surprise, remembering Alice from college with a particularly visceral shudder, his eyebrows first going up in surprise and then going down in incredulity. “Really?” He asked tetchily.

The holoform merely shrugged, looking mildly apologetic. “It wouldn’t be the first time. Their frames are particularly sensitive to EMP’s and cosmic rays as they lack many of the protective shielding that other frames have as standard.” He explained as he collected a final ampule. “I have never encountered an organic species that can parse the dozens of tones that are required for basic understanding in any branch of Cybertronian when not reduced to a single toned dialect.”

Sam kicked his legs a little, “But I did.” He said, staring at the shining metal floor.

First Aid caught his eyes, “But you did.” He confirmed while holding a cotton bud against the point of injection and removing the blood draw needle. “Hold this for a second.” He said absently while he disposed of the equipment he’d just used and pulled a piece of medical tape to hold the cotton bud in place. “To borrow from English, if it quacks like a duck?”

Sam rolled his eyes but conceded the point, “It’s kind of an Occam’s razor and a Sagan standard problem, right? The simplest explanation is often the correct one and extraordinary claims require extraordinary evidence.” He finally allowed.

First Aid, having cleared all of his supplies, nodded as he stood from his seated position and collected the crimson ampules before subspacing them. “Correct. Skids was very persuasive in his argument that until the possibility could be ruled out that we would have to proceed with the expectation that you were an amnesiac Pretender. The examination had too many factors for a Pretender to mimic entirely convincingly, so I was pretty confident by the time for the blood draw that you were organic, but the blood was the final confirmation. Even the best pretender couldn’t mimic an organics circulatory system fluid.”

Thoughtfully, Sam nodded. “What would you have done if I had been a pretender?”

Shrugging his shoulders, First Aid leveled with Sam. “Contain you, force you into a stasis lock, get root access to try to determine where the malfunction was and repair it. In a lot of ways it would have been the ideal situation because a Pretender is a known quantity and specifically in our jurisdiction. We’re essentially back to square one now. Which isn’t bad!” He was quick to reassure Sam when his shoulders slumped.

Sam rubbed his eyes with his fingertips. “No, we just still have no clue what is going on, why I’m like this.” He grunted. 

First Aid patted Sam’s shoulder comfortingly. “We’ll do our best to figure it out. In any case, you won’t be alone to figure it out on your own anymore, we’ll have some of our best scientists and scholars able to support an effort to unravel the mystery.” He reassured Sam. “Now, I still need a urine sample but that can wait till after your briefing with General Lennox.” He allowed, handing Sam back his sweater and an innocuous plastic container with a yellow lid. 

Screwing his face up, Sam donned his sweater and shoved the plastic container into his pocket. At least the jeans were baggy enough that the container wasn’t ridiculously obvious. Sam looked up at First Aid, “Am I good to go?”

First Aid nodded, “Until I can process your samples, yes.” He acknowledged before hesitating. “The only thing from your assessment that concerns me is your body fat index and lean mass, they are very low for the standards of where your body should be at.” He explained.

Sam shrugged, “I have trouble remembering to eat sometimes. It’s kind of been a thing since, well, since the memories started.” He admitted. 

Nodding thoughtfully, First Aid folded his arms. “Well, that’ll be something to work on then.” He muttered to himself. Looking Sam over he tilted his head, “I’ll have to leave the null field in order to run my equipment but until otherwise noted you have a clean bill of health in my book. I will speak with you afterwards once my full assessment is complete.”

Sam nodded, finally standing. The holoform disappeared in a dissolution of blue light before the back doors opened and he was buffeted by cool air again. He’d been a fool for leaving the house without his jacket, righteous indignation aside. Sam berated himself as he stepped towards the door, shoving his hands back into his armpits as he disembarked from the patient compartment. 

While his immediate instinct was to head inside, he noticed Barricade had parked behind Cliffjumper who was behind First Aid. Dithering a moment, Sam finally walked over to Barricade. Clearing his throat, he looked at the car who’s regard he could feel like a physical weight. “Um, I’m sorry about last night. I know you were trying to help.” He said shortly.

There was quiet for a moment before Barricade responded. “You flesh bags prove to be tougher than you look.” He acknowledged, though Sam couldn’t say with any certainty if that was forgiveness or not. 

Still, Sam snorted. “Coming from you I’ll take that as a compliment.” He said with an eye roll.

“Sam, go put a jacket on. You’re going to lose optimal core temperature quickly in this weather.” First Aid called from ahead of them.

Hunching his shoulders, Sam grumbled before turning back to Barricade. “Good talk.” He turned and walking up the drive. Passing Cliffjumper, Sam smiled at the side of the alt-mode because where do you address someone without a face? “Good morning, Cliffjumper.” He greeted, feeling a genuine thrill to actually get to address the mech, real affection for him too.

Cliffjumpers voice was warm and friendly in reply, “‘morning Sam. Nice to meet you.” He said, rocking on his wheels.

“Sam.” Came First Aids voice from ahead.

Sam waved his hands in the air. “Fine! I’m going, I’m going! Don’t get your chassis in a twist.” He called. Turning back to Cliffjumper, he nodded. “It’s nice to meet you too.” Before jogging double time back to the house to grab his jacket.

Chapter Text

Grabbing his jacket and hat, Sam debated fulfilling First Aid’s last required sample before acknowledging there wasn’t enough gas in the tank to give it a go quite yet. Setting the container on the counter in the bathroom, Sam rejoined the uncomfortably large number of people on his property that he would prefer to be anywhere else. 

Even though he knew that the Fallen hadn’t plastered his face across every screen capable of connection here, part of him couldn’t forget the knowing eyes of strangers when they looked at him, like the people here were doing. It was a recurring theme in his more personal night terrors and even now, even here, the paranoia felt fresh. It didn’t help that there were even more people now than earlier in the morning. Craning his neck revealed that on the other side of the lake, where there was the only other turn out that wasn’t currently being used as a field camp, a number of the government issued SUV’s had all parked. Sam would bet that those agents had likely stayed in the cramped little motel in town and were commuting in from there.

Something in Sam uncoiled, relaxed, with the distance between himself and the cars. A gasket under pressure finally able to release. While the agents looked annoyed at the mile-ish walk from the parking area, Sam couldn’t help but smile as he descended the stairs. With that niggling stresser gone now, Sam could actually look around the series of tents that had been erected on the property with curiosity. 

There were smaller sleeping tents up towards the back 40, interspersed amongst the trees. He could see at the very end of the drive someone had delivered a white trailer with several doors facing the tents, which he assumed were bathrooms. It made sense since people weren’t parading through his house to overflow the septic tank. Otherwise the main tents appeared to serve multiple purposes. The mess tent was, clearly, for food. There was a tent with tables and workbenches inside. Another tent looked like it was filled with science equipment, the people seemed to be grouching at each other more than doing any kind of work though. Sam made sure to give that tent a very wide berth, though from his quick glance it appears to be mostly filled with rocks that looked like they had just been picked up from the property.

Weird.

The final large tent appeared to be the ‘Command Center’ and as Sam poked his head inside a man in a black uniform like Will’s caught sight of him and gave a whistle, causing the rest of the people present to turn and catch sight of Sam as well. The room had white boards and diagrams that Sam didn’t understand but nearly no equipment other than tables and print outs. Will, who had been sitting at a table with Epps, Barricade, and another holoform that Sam had not met but something told him was Cliffjumper, smiled and waved him over.

“Hey Sam, checkup go okay?” Will asked as Sam sat at an empty chair across the table from them. 

Stuffing his hands in the pockets of his coat, Sam shrugged. “Well, I’m apparently not a Pretender, so that’s good to know.” He laughed at the ridiculousness of his morning. The two humans looked at him for a moment in stunned silence before they both turned to the holoforms who had the decency to look uncomfortable. 

“That was an option?” Epps whisper-yelled in outrage. 

Lennox’s face looked apoplectic. “You didn’t tell us that!”

The brawny holoform raised his hands in an appeasing manner while Barricade folded his arms over his chest defensively. “It was an outside possibility.” He reassured the two and Sam perked up at the familiar voice. 

Smiling, he leaned forward, “Cliffjumper?” He wanted to confirm.

The holoform nodded with a grin, before turning back to the Generals. “It is incredibly rare, Pretender frames have always been far and few between, but we have found them living among the population on worlds where they’ve been stuck and settled into life with the natives.” He explained. “Since Sam can understand NeoCybex, it made the likelihood that he might just be a lost Pretender with amnesia an unlikely but not impossible prospect. The tests this morning concluded that he isn’t one, however.” 

Will looked at Sam with a new appreciation and Sam waved jazz hands at him in return. “Human! At least as far as we can tell.”

Epps pointed a finger at him, “Don’t say that. Saying stuff like that always leads to a plot twist.” He admonished.

Will gave his friend a deadpan eye, “This isn’t some kind of thriller, Ray.”

Epps threw his hands up, “Fine, just you wait. It’s bad luck, is all I’m saying.” He grumped. Sam didn’t remember Epps being particularly superstitious before but like Sam, he’d probably seen at least his fair share of weird stuff over the years, enough to make him believe in a Robot God in Sam's case and superstition apparently in Epps's. 

The two holoforms appeared to tolerantly observe the humans snarking at each other before Barricade cleared his throat pointedly. “Now that we’ve ascertained that Witwicky isn’t a lost Cybertronian, we can rule out some possibilities but have to consider others.” He spread his hands in illustration.

Sam leaned forward curiously, tucking his feet onto the bar between the legs of the fold up chair he was sitting on. “Like what?”

Barricade locked eyes with Sam, his human looking gaze strangely alien. “That we’re going to have to figure out.” He said cryptically.

Scowling at Barricade, Sam turned to the more accommodating Will. “What happens now?”

Will folded his hands on the table. “Our first priority is the dead zone we find ourselves in.” He explained calmly. “The technology is of interest to both of our parties,” He waved between the holoforms and himself, “And you, Sam, are the only one who knows how it works right now.”

Sam frowned in return. “I don’t want you guys to have it.” He stated. The table paused, before all four occupants turned to focus on Sam with varying levels of dubiety. Still, Sam determinedly pressed forward. “I don’t want anybody to have it. I made it to protect myself but it doesn’t take a genius to see what kind of military applications having something that can nullify all signals could offer. Even if I trust you I have 15 million years of war percolating in my skull that forces me to acknowledge the horrendous things someone could do with that technology.” 

Lennox pursed his lips and Cliffjumper and Barricade’s faces were set in displeased expressions. Epps, however, seemed to understand what Sam was saying and folded his hands on the table. 

Breathing out a steady breath, Lennox nodded. “Be that as it may, our chains of command have made themselves clear. Once we start removing the nullifiers we’re going to reverse engineer them to study their effects. Part of this is to design a mobile unit for you like I mentioned earlier so that you can be safely removed from the valley.” Lennox explained. 

Sam’s heart seized, “But I don’t want to go, not yet. This is my home.” He said anxiously. 

Lennox’s eyes softened, “And it’s been your safe space for a long time, I can understand that. But it isn’t safe, not anymore. We found you, which unfortunately has put you on the radar for a lot of incredibly bad people who are not that far behind and we need to get you somewhere secure quickly.” He said reasonably. 

Sam curled his lip and made his hands fists in his pockets. “Why couldn’t you have just left me alone?” He demanded mulishly.

It was Barricade who answered, “Because you’re too important.” He said, completely without sympathy. “We need you. Not for the nullifiers, though that is an added bonus, you. You have a purpose to serve and an obligation to do so.”

Sam gave the mech a nasty sneer, “Oh, is that my function*?” He intoned unkindly and was satisfied to see both holoforms flinch, though the two humans looked confused by the interaction. 

Cliffjumper raised his hands. “We’re falling into the weeds here. That Barricade brought us here is a reality that cannot be changed, and in time I believe that you will find that it was the correct move for you, Sam. Working within this reality that we find ourselves in, we have only one real option: move forward. To that end, the fact is that we cannot leave you here and we cannot leave the nullifiers here now that we know what they are.” He outlined, his tone reasonable. “Once it is safe to move you, our priority is getting you back to base.”

Sam brooded where he sat. “What’s going to happen to me then?” He finally asked.

The others glanced at each other before Lennox responded. “You’ll meet the others. There are a handful of people who are like us. No longer aging, that is.” He explained.

Sam frowned at that piece of information. “I’m confused; where is the connection between people who have stopped aging and Cybertronians/I.C.E.R.?”

There was an extended pause, Cliffjumper and Will having what could be an entire conversation with their eyes across the table from each other before Cliffjumper folded his hands in front of himself. “I have been informed that you are aware of the AllSpark.” He stated. Sam nodded, hesitantly, before Cliffjumper pursed his lips and continued. “While the AllSpark itself is currently lost to us, its power has somehow super saturated this planet.”

That was news to Sam and he blinked wide eyes around the table. “It’s…like, seeped into the planet?”

Lennox waffled his hand. “Kind of. There is a specific kind of energy that the AllSpark emanates that is found from only a few sources, or it did. Earth is, cosmically speaking, marinated in the stuff. It’s what has drawn all of the Cybertronians to Earth over the years, the energy and the Energon.” He detailed. “We don’t know how long it’s been present, exactly, not having located it ourselves, but it's definitely left an impression on the planet. The Earth has a higher amount of the compounds needed to make Energon than any other planet in the galaxy, including Cybertron. It is a statistical impossibility for that to happen naturally, especially since geological surveys done on both the Moon and Mars haven’t had similar results.”

Sam frowned in deepening confusion. “That’s different from my memories. Optimus and the others came here as a fallback point, their war with the Decepticon’s wasn’t going well. It was kind of just a happy coincidence that the Cube was here.” He explained.

Cliffjumper leaned forward, face intent, “Where did you see the AllSpark?” He demanded bluntly. 

For one glittering, shining moment Sam wanted to tell them exactly where the AllSpark had been and correct the atrocity he had committed in his own world. Give the Cybertronians the means to save themselves from the slow extinction of attrition. 

Sam didn’t look at Barricade but the mech's presence, like Steeljaws, sat heavy on his mind. Every Decepticon sat heavy on his mind. The truth was, Megatron could very much still be alive, stuck in stasis either under the Hoover Dam or at worst potentially locked in a block of ice in the north pole. In fact, the concept of Megatron being incinerated in the Sun had become less and less likely of a possibility the longer Sam had to think about it. It would be too convenient for the universe to hand him that kind of a win.

The technology of this world hadn’t been much different from his own when he had awoken. That, above all else, was his most compelling reason for his belief that Megatron was still around. He knew that the only reason that the humans in his world had advanced so quickly technologically was due to reverse-engineering the Decepticon leader's frozen body, ergo, the likelihood that the history here had paralleled his own was just too highly likely. 

If Megatron was here, was still alive, potentially waking him up in pursuit of the AllSpark could--no, would reignite the war to fulfill the mech's unquenchable thirst for power. 

For all of his faults, and there were many, Megatron was an inspiring leader. While Sam in his world had experienced the absolute monster that Magatron had eventually become, the despotic warlord who’s narcissism and pride had perpetuated a war that had spanned the cosmos and cost his people and the galaxy as a whole greatly, the Visions that Sam had been forced to see explained what had made that monster.

And Sam felt sympathy because Megatron had been right, in the beginning.

The Cybertronian government had been so horrendously corrupt with no path forward to reform it. The glittering towers of the wealthy, the influential, the elites had soared above the squalor of the labor caste that they had literally created to exploit. Revolution was inevitable. 

At first, the miner from Tarn had been idealistic and aspirational. He’d written powerful, thoughtful, and compelling periodicals that had resonated powerfully with the disenfranchised. He’d talked of equality, egalitarianism, of dissolving the caste system and allowing a mech to be who they wanted to be, not limited to the function of the body they’d been placed into for the convenience of distant politicians.

His words had inspired many. There had been rallies, he’d given public speeches, they’d even had a blossoming political party to meet the powerful elites in their own glittering towers. 

And then the mine’s had become automated by order of the Senate and without another option D-16 the miner had become Megatronus the gladiator, selling himself to the pits for the currency to afford an ever decreasing amount of Energon that the Senate had set a price gouging scheme on in an attempt to keep the population so focused on work to pay for their fuel that they couldn’t think of rebellion. 

It had decayed like an infection in Megatronus's spark. With every mech he'd murdered for the amusement of the elite, so too had he murdered the idealist he had been till there was nothing left but wrath in his wake. 

When finally Megatronus the Gladiator had accepted the mantle as Megatron, Leader of the Decepticons, there had only been tar in his soul. His conquest had been as bloody as it had been poetic.

Just as revolution had been inevitable, so too had rebellion and thus the split between Optimus Prime's Autobots and Megatron’s Decepticons. Sam had been forced to watch the beginning of the war just as he’d been forced to watch everything else, over and over and over again from new and different perspectives but yet all ultimately the same. 

He knew that Megatron could not be stopped if he awoke again. 

And with a grim kind of certainty, Sam knew that if he revealed the location of the AllSpark that the monster would once more be released and the hard fought but still relatively new peace would crumble. Cybertron was only safe in Megatron's absence.

Sam couldn’t tell them where he suspected the cube to be. Not if there was the potential that it might also lead them down the path of bloody civil war once more. Sam couldn’t have two atrocities on his hands.

“I saw it in Tranquility.” He said truthfully. 

From years living with Cybertronians he was aware that lying to one was nearly impossible, but omitting information and letting them draw their own conclusions was a very good second best. “It was in an underground bunker, huge, they’d had to build around the Cube because it was so massive. This guy, Agent Simmons, kidnapped me and Mikaela--” He paused, making a face, “--she was my kind of girlfriend at the time and captured Bumblebee…” He trailed off, before bringing his hands up to his face and scrubbing it hard, “They captured Bumblebee and tortured him because he was a Cybertronian.” He forced out, the memories of seeing what they’d done to his friend a sudden, sharp pain like a blade to his heart. He wasn't ready for those memories because even mentioning them drew him down a nasty rabbit hole.

He must have gone silent too long because Lennox gently rapped on the table, startling him. He looked up, physically shaking the memory from his head, “Right, sorry. Uh.” He coughed, “But it was there. Just.” He expanded his arms wide to illustrate the size and cover his hands tremors. “But the Decepticons were after it and they followed us right to it. When they arrived I was able to get Bumblebee free because the government guys knew they couldn’t protect the AllSpark from a contingent of Decepticons. Bumblebee though, he did something to trigger it to transform; it got really small, only about the size of a hat box.” He said, drawing his hands down and indicating the general size. “Light enough that even a human could pick it up. I guess part of me shouldn’t be surprised that the AllSpark could change too, but it was one of the craziest things I’d ever seen. Did you know it could do that?” Sam asked Cliffjumper and Barricade.

The two holoforms looked…stunned. Stunned was a good word for it. Sam wasn’t sure if it was the information that he’d shared, all true, or just the word vomit he forgot that he did when he was nervous that did it. 

Cliffjumper recovered first. “No, I'm not of the ::ecclesial:: class, I wasn’t aware that the AllSpark was able to change size. Do you remember where this bunker was?” HE asked persistently.

Sam shook his head but very consciously never said ‘no’. “I tried to find it again, but I don’t remember much after we escaped, mostly just flashes of fighting, explosions, Jazz….” He shuddered, “I couldn’t find it. I’m sorry.” He said, absolutely sincere.

Cliffjumper nodded, leaning back and looking pensive. He turned to the others at the table, “If it fell in Tranquility, that at least gives us a possible starting point. That it could also potentially be the size of a ‘hat box’ does complicate matters.” He frowned, pinching the bridge of his nose in an extremely human mannerism.

Epps tapped his knuckles on the table, “I hate to be that guy, but I’m going to point out that California is God’s etch-a-sketch, the area is intensely seismically active and we don’t know when the AllSpark fell. It could have fallen into some kind of thin crust bit and ended up in the Earth’s mantle, melted.” He proposed almost apologetically.

The two Cybertronians shared a stricken look at that statement, and Epps raised his hands. “I just want to manage expectations. Sam here said that his AllSpark was whole and it wasn’t causing diffuse AllSpark energy, I just took the logical next step.”

Sam frowned and bit his lip, "The AllSpark can never be destroyed, not really. Just changed." He intoned from somewhere in the recesses of his brain.

Lennox rubbed his eyes, “Okay, that’s not something that we’re going to resolve today or any time in the near future.” He frowned at Sam thoughtfully before addressing the table and specifically Sam, “To circle back after that tangent; the reason why those who have stopped aging are associated with I.C.E.R. is that we believe it has something to do with us having a greater concentration of AllSpark energy than the general population. A lot more. We emanate the stuff. As we grow older, the energy only increases.” He explained.

Sam slow blinked at him, “What?”

Epps joined in, leaning forward and setting his hands on the table, “It’s, as far as we can tell, not dangerous. The energy has been with humanity for a long time.” He gave a little smirk, “The eggheads researching it think that the AllSpark’s energy might be what ‘elevated’ us from apes to people.”

Leaning back, Lennox blew out a sigh and gave Epps side eye. “The scientists have evidence to support that there has been a noticeable shift in our evolution that is difficult to explain without the inclusion of the AllSpark energy as a possible influence.” He clarified. “It would make sense because other than our mechanical and biological differences, Humans and Cybertronians are startlingly similar in many other respects. Some of us more than others. Whatever it's done changed us and we’re still figuring out what that means.”

Barricade shot Sam a smirk, “It means that we’re cousins.” 

Sam raised his eyebrow at the holoform. “You okay being related to some ‘flesh bags’?” He poked.

Barricade's holoform chuckled, “From what I’ve come to understand, ‘everyone has that cousin’. You all are just ours.” he joked.

Cliffjumper settled his elbows on the table. “Optimus Prime and the new Council of Representatives have determined that relations with Earth and its population are a top priority. While the general sentiment is as a trade partner, the AllSpark energy and our unusual overlap in origin’s has elevated our interest in you to be considered a protectorate in regards to the greater galactic community.” 

Sam frowned from whiplash, “Can you do that right now? With your forces so…thin? You're vulnerable to attack right now too and I can't help but worry that like, the Quintessons would take this opportunity to try to weasel their way back into control again.”

The four of them stared at Sam like he’d grown another head, but he turned to address the two holoforms at the table. “The Quintessons? They invaded Cybertron as ‘trade partners’ and ended up enslaving your kind? They’re the ones who first started differentiating a mech's form as their primary function because it made easier to sell more clearly defined slaves as a products?” He asked, hoping that any of that sounded familiar.

From the flabbergasted looks on the two Cybertronian's faces they had no idea what he was talking about which caused Sam to rub his eyes. “I’m sorry, it’s just…all there and I can’t know what you know and don't know. I’m aware it's confusing and it’s not super helpful.”  He said, castigating himself, fisting his hand in his hair.

Cliffjumper reached out and patted Sam’s shoulder, gripping it afterwards in a show of support, “Whoa, hey there. Don’t get down on yourself about this, what you’re doing is great, this is exactly what we need you for. I have just never heard of the Quintessons, though I think I remember something about a rebellion against invaders? It’s vaguely referenced.”

Sam stiffly nodded, releasing his hair, the holoform's hand strangely comforting. “Yeah, they put an end to the first Golden Age of Cybertron. That’s when your people made their first colonies.” He explained quietly to the two Cybertronians, who looked intrigued by that tidbit of information. “They’re why seekers have cockpits and ground frames sometimes have a cabin.” Barricade and Cliffjumper both looked thoughtful for a long moment, seeming to absorb that. 

Epps watched them before shrugging to Sam, drumming his fingers on the table. “We also benefit from a partnership with Cybertron. Their technology outstrips our own by millions of years and many of the problems we are facing: global warming, droughts, the energy crisis would all be solved with their help. It’s a mutually beneficial partnership, one that even if we are a burden now will be beneficial later.” He explained. He then smirked and glanced at the holoforms at the table. “It doesn’t hurt that they like us.”

Lennox pulled a wan expression at that but relaxed his face a moment later like an acquiescence before addressing Sam’s curious look. “While none of us have your memories, that doesn’t mean that we don’t have our own specialties. Cybertronians, as a whole, find us pretty irresistible.”

Wheeling around, Barricade shrugged at Sam’s incredulous look. “It’s the AllSpark energy. When I see Will and Epps my protection protocols amp up without my control.” He divulged. “I’m compelled to safeguard them like I would if I were to encounter a sparkling.” He griped but the look turned thoughtful a moment later. “Your field blocks the effect, which is very interesting.”

Epps snorted, “More than a sparkling.” He teased Barricade.

Sam was prepared for the former Decepticon to do something, anything other than roll his eyes and lean back in his chair with his arms folded loosely over his chest. If anything, Barricade seemed genuinely amused by Epps, and if Sam’s nullifier dead zone was truly blocking the AllSpark energy then there was a possibility that Barricade was simply amused outside of whatever AllSpark compulsion he’d experienced. Which rocked Sam’s world. Barricade could like a human? Barricade?

Cliffjumper nodded as though Sam wasn’t having an existential crisis in front of him, “That is, unfortunately, one of the reasons why we’re focusing on extricating you. While most Decepticons and Autobots have renounced the war and conflict, there are small bands of roving factions, pirates, out there who have made incursions on Earth for Energon compounds and other materials. One of these incursions encountered a member of your kind with an elevated AllSpark energy level and attempted to kidnap her. While they weren’t successful, unfortunately knowledge of your kind's existence has become known and there are bounties for your capture.”

Sam couldn’t help but gape, “Why?”

Cliffjumper frowned. No, Cliffjumper looked uncomfortable. Sam swung his head to look at Epps and Will and the two of them had what could only be considered ‘long suffering’ looks. Will sighed as his face deadpanned, “They find us very irresistible.”

Sam slowly nodded, trying to grok that. 

“Once you’re on base, our focus will be on addressing your signal issues in a more permanent fashion than what we’re able to whip up here and your health. We are hoping that you’ll continue to write your manuscripts, but doing so is at your discretion.” Cliffjumper finished. Barricade gave Cliffjumper a scowl and Cliffjumper stared him down. The entire interaction was so strange because it was so human.

Will, at least, nodded. “Once we have you somewhere safe it’ll be easier to iron out the details. Being taken into protective custody isn’t meant to be a prison sentence.”

Sam scowled, “And if I don’t want to go?”

Will’s face set in a grim look. “It’s not really one of those kinds of choices, Sam.” He clarified. “You’re a high priority target with potentially dangerous information and tangible assets. I don’t want to make you come with us, but you will be coming when we leave.”

Standing up, Sam glared at the table. “Well fuck you guys!” He hissed before turning around and storming out of the tent, shoes crunching on the gravel as he stomped away. It didn’t help that he could hear Lennox’s sigh of ‘teenagers’ in parting. 

Furious, Sam circumnavigated the tents and started aggressively walking down the side of the lake, fists shoved in his pockets as he seethed. It was infuriating! This was his home, this was his life that they were upending! Sam bent down, grabbed a rock, and hurled it with all of his strength into the lake, hearing the thunk-plop as it broke the surface of the water with an impressive splash. Not enough, he reached down and grabbed another rock and repeated the process several more times until he was out of breath and his arm was sore.

“Filling the lake like that seems to be pretty inefficient.” A rolling voice said from behind him and Sam scowled, not turning to look at Steeljaw. 

Sam bent to collect another rock, being choosier this time for a flat wedge and leaning back to skip the stone nearly a dozen times across the flat waters surface, he’d had a lot of time to practice that particular maneuver over the years. “Sometimes the process is the reward, not the outcome.” He grumbled. 

The Mechanimal stepped forward and joined him on the water's edge. “It looks to me like there is less reward and more catharsis involved, personally.”

Sam ignored him for a moment, finding another flat stone and with an expert flick of his wrist sent it skipping even further. “My dad had a temper.” Sam said, unsure why he was even talking to the wolf look-alike, “It was always just simmering under the surface, any little problem would cause him to blow up. I remember him yelling at a cashier once because his burger had pickles when he’d ordered a burger without pickles.”

Steeljaw glanced down at him, servos behind his back. “Sounds like a fun guy.” He responded.

Glaring at the lake, Sam decided against throwing more rocks right then. “It’s easy to be angry, it’s a primary emotion. It’s easy to play the victim and pity yourself when things don’t go your way.” He scrubbed the bit of silty wet dirt that he’d accumulated on his hands from throwing rocks on his jacket. “It’s hard to break down where your anger is coming from and what it’s covering up.” He muttered. “And I'm so angry right now I could spit.”

The Mechanimal glanced at him again, but kept his silence just as Sam did. After a long moment, Sam huffed. “I thought I’d never leave here, not really. The difference in perspective between 'trapped' and 'sheltered' completely changes the context of the problem. I never felt like this was a cage even though I couldn’t really leave.” He groused, waving around. “Now someone has the door open and I don’t want to go.”

Venting a snort, those citrine eyes turned to look at Sam. “Take it from someone who has been in a literal cage on occasion, most prisons don’t have bars.” He tapped the side of his helm. “We are all just prisoners here of our own device.”

The reference completely surprised Sam and he couldn't help the undignified snort he made, “Hotel California?”

Shooting Sam a pleased grin, the mech straightened, looking back over the lake. “I find that I appreciate the poetry of your world quite a bit more than my own. Be it to music or not.”

Sam couldn't help but laugh a little bit at that. “I mean, I don’t know if the Eagles hold a candle to N.R.G.’s epics.” He mused.

The double take that Steeljaw gave him forced a laugh from Sam. “A lot of it’s kind of lost on me, I am not really a poetry kind of guy.” Sam paused, thinking about a certain Decepticon leader who had been. The introspection earlier having opened the box he’d set thoughts of Magatron in, apparently. “I’m kind of just a story guy.” Sam stated, shoving those thoughts away. From the camp he could see the twins approaching out of his periphery, and honestly he’d have preferred his Barricade to them, but running away would only bring them faster.

Steeljaw noticed the twins' approach as well, ears? audials? pinning back slightly. “Looks like your babysitters have arrived.” He said smoothly, though there was mild disdain in his voice.

Turning to face them, Sam had to do a double take. Sam remembered the twins being, in a word, round. They were about as wide as they were tall and launched themselves like cannon balls to great effect because of it.

Though the colors and height were the same, Sam was surprised to discover that that was where the similarities ended. Instead of the honestly perplexing proportionality of the mechs he knew, these two looked much more similar in configuration to their taller counterparts, and their helms only nod to his own worlds version were a matching pair of large finials on either side of their helms that could be a set of ears or a set of horns like Bumblebees.

Sam found this to be an altogether promising state of affairs. 

The two bots approached and instead of threatening to ‘pop a cap’ in someone's ass, Mudflap raised a servo in greeting. “Yo, Witwicky!” 

Skids eyed Steeljaw with not quite hostility or condescension, but those weren’t not present in his expression, faceplates moving smoothly against one another. “Steeljaw, yer outside of yer containment zone. You know the rules.” He said, folding his arms over his chassis. The two bots had still opted to adopt an African-American Vernacular English accent but it was no longer a caricature of one. That alone eased Sam’s anxiety because how do you explain how racist someone is being when they don’t even have a concept of or understand race?

The look the Steeljaw gave them was superficially pleasant but Sam could feel his irritation. “Oh, silly me. I was merely concerned--” Sam was internally amused by that statement, “--about our dear Sam here, seems that freedom is the right of all sentient beings except when it inconveniences your leadership.” He said tetchily. 

Both bots' expressions descended into identical faces of annoyance, but before they could escalate whatever was going on into something that was going to impact the view from his porch Sam raised his hands, “Alright, enough you guys.” Sam interjected. Turning to Steeljaw, Sam huffed. “I can handle my own problems, Steeljaw, but thank you for the concern.”

The mechanimal's yellow optics roved Sam’s face for a moment before his intake plates thinned and he nodded, pressing a servo to his shoulder in parting. “As you wish, Sam.” 

Sam frowned after Steeljaw as the mechanimal made a show of curtsying to the twins in a far less solemn exchange than he’d shared with Sam before proceeding back to the tents.

“::Fake[deceit][lying]:: fragger.” Mudflap grumbled, watching the mech off.

Sam gave Mudflap a hard stare. ‘Deceitful bastard’ though Steeljaw was, a part of Sam had enjoyed his company and disapproved of Mudflaps words. Sam knew what kind of mech Steeljaw was, and a little in spite of himself he’d still found their brief encounter pleasant.

The twins turned their attention to Sam, “Hey man, you’ve got the boss bots ::tibulen*’s:: in a twist. You need some more time to cool yer vents or do you think you’re ready to amble on back?” Skids asked, jerking his thumb towards the tent city in Sam’s front yard.

Sam took a moment to be utterly thankful that though they were still clearly Skids and Mudflap, they were a toned down version of them in every way he’d come to experience thus far.

Still, looking over the lake, Sam scowled. “They can shove it up their tailpipes.” He declared, a kind of…vindication and giddiness washing over him saying it aloud. 

Mudflap snorted, “Still needs ta cool his vents.” He nudged Skids.

Sam took one last look at the lake before turning and walking at a more leisurely rate away from the house and further along the lake. Skids and Mudflap followed him, their pace slow to give him space but also to keep him close. They walked like that till they reached the midway point on the lake where Sam stopped to sit down on a large rock and look out over the lake.

Skids and Mudflap stopped as well a respectful distance away. The two had been talking back and forth but at a volume that Sam couldn’t catch more than a few words of. They’d been speaking in a mix of English, what sounded like Hindi, some Chinese, something that sounded completely alien and NeoCybex. Sam was curious about this new pidgin language, but wasn’t willing to break his silence to inquire about it yet. Instead he wrapped his arms around his knees, set his chin on them and just stared at the water.

Sam’s mind was blessedly silent for the minutes that stretched on there. Sometimes he couldn’t get a word in edgewise with the chaos in his brain but here, now, it had all taken a step back and left him space for once to process. 

But, as with everything in life, all good things must come to an end and Sam’s ass falling asleep on the freezing slab of rock it had been parked on was it for him. He’d gone stiff from cold too while he was sitting and he grimaced a bit as he stood up, feeling a bit more his age. 

Skids and Mudflap paused their conversation to regard Sam. “You good?” Mudflap queried. 

Sam shrugged, “No, but I’m not angry enough to stand out here and freeze to spite someone else.” He grumbled.

Skids laughed in response, intake twisted in a grin. “Nah, living good is always a better bet. At least then yer comfortable and they can die mad about it.” He snickered, elbowing Mudflap.

Snorting, Sam shoving his hands in his pockets. Turning back to his house, he noticed that the two bots were looking at the water of the lake thoughtfully as they followed him. “You guys don’t see much liquid water, right?”

Mudflap made a farting noise with his vocalizer. “Nope. I’d take an ethanol lake any day, twice on Sunday. Water is a pit on the armor. At least this shit ain't salinated, salinated is the worst.” He huffed. “Rusts my aft.”

Sam laughed good naturedly at that. “Aft, chassis, peds. The worst are those little locking mechanisms that you have to twist just right to pop the latch.” He recalled, miming doing so with his cold hands. California didn’t get a lot of rain, an issue that had been bad when he was a kid and only got worse as the years went on, but Bee had still had more than one occasion where he’d unexpectedly gotten muddy and Sam had helped him ‘disrobe’ to clean and inspect his armor pieces. 

Mudflap looked at him in surprise, “Yo, you know about those? Man, none of these guys can unlatch for shit.” He barked a laugh, jerking his thumb towards the tents.

Skids looked pensive though, “Who you popping panels with, exactly?” He asked dubiously. Mudflap paused, confusedly, before nodding along.

The mirth drained out of him, and he kicked a rock just to do it. “His name is Bumblebee. Or, I knew him as Bumblebee, it’s an Earth name that he got before I met him.” He glared at the ground. “Stupid kid that I was, I didn’t even ask what his name really is, he was always just Bumblebee to me.” He sighed.

“Oooooh, this is your AU origin story thing, right?” Mudflap asked excitedly, body panels buzzing lightly in enthusiasm. “We been hearing ‘bout it and it sounds wild. You got to see Megatron and the AllSpark?”

Skids smacked his brother on the back of the helm, “Read the room, piston head. This is the tragic backstory part.” Sam hunched his shoulders, feeling reduced by their responses. Skids leaned down and very gently nudged him, “The floor is yours, Sam-ma-man.”

Frowning, Sam was silent for a long moment before capitulating to their expectant silence. “I just want to find him, make sure he’s alright here. He doesn’t even have to ever meet me, I just want him to be okay. He was my best friend for years. He saved my life and in the end I was a pretty shitty friend to him.” He explained.

Mudflap perked up, “Hey yo, maybe we can help! We been with the Autobots since, like, forever. We know every bot that flies, drives, or dives.”

Skids nodded, “Or we know someone who does.”

Sam felt too big for his skin suddenly. While he was pretty sure Cliffjumper knew Bee, he’d been so distracted earlier he hadn’t even thought about asking. “He’s a scout. Real feisty. He’s, like, 18 feet tall? He favors yellows for his alt modes.” Thinking of distinctive features Sam remembered Bee’s mouth. “He had a different type of intake, it’s round and has a vent on it.” He turned to show what he meant with his hand.

Mudflap looked thoughtful but Skids slapped his shoulder with the back of his servo. “Don’t that sounds like one of those ::B[Simfur*][Scout]:: units?”

The rusty colored mechs optics widened in recognition. “Yooooooo, yeah!” He hopped in enthusiasm, gesturing with his hands at his face. “They had that ‘optimized’ intake for processing low grade Energon.” He nodded, “We know a few, they were Cold Forged like, right as everything started. Not super common...especially now.” He finished soberly.

Sam felt his chest tighten with hope. “In my…AU--” He cringed to use the vernacular but when in Rome, “--he had his voice box damaged, so he could mostly only verbally communicate with audio clips and Basic. He brought Optimus and the others when we figured out the Cube was here. He served directly under Optimus?”

There was a long pause, a loud quiet, that forced Sam to stop and turn around in confusion. Skids and Mudflap had stopped and were staring at Sam, before turning to each other. Rapidly in their pidgin speech they began arguing back and forth, waving their hands as points were made.

Sam could barely pick out the English words, let alone the other languages. “Uh, guys?” He asked after a minute, causing the two mechs to pause their argument. Honestly, Sam was impressed that whatever it was hadn’t devolved into a wrestling match. “What is it?”

The two shared a look before Skids sighed, crouching down to be more of a height with Sam. “We think we got a match for yer Bee. ::B-127::, er, B-127. He’s a scout, like yer mech, and served with Optimus for, like, a long time.” He said, and Sam sagged a little in relief.

He didn’t see the look the two shared before Mudflap also crouched down. “Sam, B-127’s been MIA for a real long time.” He said in what could only be an attempt at being gentle.

Sam stared at the two of them, completely unable to fathom what he’d just been told.

Chapter Text

“No.” Sam found himself saying, shaking his head. “No, you're wrong. That can't be my Bee.” He denied. 

“Does yer...memory thing help?” Mudflap asked, gesturing to his helm leadingly.

Sam wrapped his arms around his stomach, feeling the swell of joy become a cavern of despair. “No. It doesn't work like that. I…it's either there already or it pops up without my prompting, usually to great effect.” He muttered, thinking of his seizure episodes. “I've tried looking for him in there, but when I see him it's not like I can follow him, the memories are all from a narrative and he's...he's not really the focus.” He drew his hands up and aggressively scrubbed his eyes. “I have to see Cliffjumper get murdered in a dozen ways and I can't even find my best friend.”

The two stood awkwardly while Sam fought back the baseball that was suddenly lodged in his throat. They must have exchanged some kind of non-verbal communication because Skids knelt down again and nudged Sam softly with the back of one of his servos, “Yo, don't go blowing a gasket. B-127 is a straight up MacGyver. MIA just means missin’, there's thousands of reasons he could be missin’, not all bad. We be finding mechs stuck in weird as shit places all the time. Our navigation, especially in single deep space transport, ain't all that accurate. Gravitational forces do freaky things and a planet you aimed at might not even be there when you arrive.” 

Sam nodded, understanding but despondent. “He was supposed to be here.” He rasped. 

Mudflap vented slowly, “We can put a BOLO out. B-127 ain't a deserter, and he sure as shit ain't been slagged by no Decepticon fragger. He's a survivor, bet.” He tried to reassure Sam.

Sam nodded, but it barely helped. Skids nudged him again, gentle as could be. “Until we find him, we’ll keep you safe. B-127's a hero, a legend, ain't no higher honor than protecting a mech's friends till they come home.” He reassured Sam. 

Sam rubbed the heel of his hand against his eyes, scrubbing the attempt at tears away. “You weren't like this before.” He admitted to them with a wet laugh.

Skids tilted his helm with an interested look on his face. “Wha…? You knew us before and you didn't mention it? What is up with that?” He demanded in a joking tone, willing to let the more serious conversation die for now.

Sam nodded, finally able to look up at the two again. “Yeah, you two were…" He frowned, suddenly feeling awkward. "I don't know how to say it without insulting you.” He admitted.

Mudflap waved his servo dismissively, “Ain't the first time we heard whatever, people call us all kinds of things, some even behind our backs.” He grinned with a wink. “An ‘acquired taste', that's Skids’n me.”

“Mostly you, selenium salami*.” Skids jabbed at his brother, and Sam laughed despite himself at the creative(?) insult. 

“Et tu, brute? See what I gotta deal with, Sam? The insults and harassment. I need to call a hotline, get some support. This gotta be against some kind of convention or treaty.” He mocked, throwing a servo against his helm, hamming it up.

Skids jabbed him in his unprotected side, causing the rust colored mech to grunt and hunch over, holding his panel. “Assault! You saw it! I’m a victim here. You’ll be hearin’ from my lawyer. I want a settlement.”

“Blow it out yer tailpipe, you fragger. Only victim here is me having to deal with you.” Skids snarked back. 

A lot of it was for show, Sam knew, but there was genuine affection there and he couldn't help smiling at their good natured ribbing.

Sam had never had siblings. His parents had barely managed to have him, he'd been their ‘little miracle'. He'd come over a month early and had to spend weeks in the NICU while his immature body matured, his Grandma's nickname for him had been 'chicken legs' as an affectionate reminder. His dad used to joke that it was that 'Witwicky resiliency' that had kept him going when the doctors hadn't been sure he'd make it till morning.

They knew he'd be their only child, but Sam had always wondered what it would be like to have a sibling. Would their relationship have been as…easy as Skids and Mudflap?

Knowing the rest of his family, well, probably not.

Skids stood up to his full 11 foot height with a stretch. “Can't complain about the atmosphere out here though, that right there? Pollutants negligible.” He vented loudly while sweeping his arm to encompass the valley. “You can taste ‘em in summa the places we get sent, the shit just clogs my vents.” He groused.

Mudflap snorted, “Better'n Kaon, it's an open smelt.” He gagged, which was a weird expression on his mechanoid face.

Sam frowned sadly, “Kaon was beautiful once.” He reminisced, eyes going distant to remember the buildings and parks of the City during the First Golden Age. “Kolkular practically glittered in the morning.” he frowned, “But yeah, when they started open smelting people it really rubbed the shine right off.”

Skids nudged Sam again and they started walking, more companionably than guarded this time. “Some folks ‘round here won't call us people.” He admitted, slightly bitter. “Some of them just think we're ‘quirky AI’.” 

Sam barked a laugh, before turning his sympathetic brown eyes up at his two companions. “What morons. No one could listen to Jazz on the electroharp and believe that. He puts his spark into it.” He sighed, partially transported to another place, another time where Jazz had been playing for a group of bitter and exhausted soldiers, a little solace for their weary sparks. “He had to learn how to play, you know? He wasn't forged able to.” He revealed to the stunned looks of the twins. 

“Jazz Jazz? You shittin’ me, little cuz?” Mudflap laughed incredulously.

Sam shook his head, “No! He…” Sam trailed off, suddenly unsure how to explain what Jazz's occupation was before he was an Autobot. “His employers were eclectic, including Towerlings, so he was exposed to it. Jazz should have been a musician, he has a Primus given talent in it.” 

Skids snorted, “He has a Primus given talent for shanking too, bit more call for one than the other.” He morbidly joked. 

Sam couldn't argue with that. The house was fast approaching and Sam dragged his feet more the closer that they got. 

The bots noticed and Skids grinned down at him, “Don't worry ‘bout the brass, yer with me in R&D today.” He reassured him.

Sam frowned in confusion before a blip of a…not memory, but a fact niggled him. “You went to the Jhiaxian Academy of Advanced Technology.” Sam said aloud, surprising himself.

Skids looked surprised but Mudflap looked elated, “Yoooooo, it's that freaky memories thing again!” He enthused, laughing. “Do me! Do me!” He asked excitedly, very gently nudging one of Sam's shoulders. 

Sam gave him a partially amused, partially tolerant look. “I told you, it doesn't really work like that.” He shrugged, hands stuffed deep in his pockets.

The rusty colored mech visibly deflated, “Really? Nada?” He entreated.

Sam frowned, “Some of its…a bit mixed up. I remember you being a championship fighter, but sometimes I remember things that didn't happen here, it's hard to keep it all straight.” Sam shrugged apologetically.

If anything that seemed to enthuse the mech more and he punched Skids in the shoulder just hard enough to rock him, “Fragger, I knew I should have joined ::Chrystalocution::*! Hear that? I'd have been a fragging champion.” He said excitedly before hopping around on light pedes like a boxer.

“Whoa flies like a butterfly, stings like a bee, look out for the little organics there.” Sam warned, taking several steps away from the small by Cybertronian standards but still quite large by human standards mech. “I also see you guys with…Landmine?” He frowned, forming the syllables in his mouth awkwardly. Sometimes the names translated instantly, other times he had to parse out a rough translation.

The two swerved to stare at him, their matching blue optics wide with surprise. “Yo, that is some freaky shit.” Skids finally chuckled in amusement. “Landmine’s our Guardian. Raised us from little scraplings not sure which side was our aft or helm.” He laughed.

“You still don't.” Mudflap teased, dodging away from Skids’ swipe at him.

It was nice, if weird, to have people happy for his input like this. No one had been happy to hear his memories, ever, except his publishers and only then as it related to the next book in the series. Every time he shared a new memory with his parents, even his elderly mother after she'd come to accept that he wasn't going to get better, had had the same accepting but unhappy expression when he'd let something slip. The novelty felt as validating as it did wrong. He liked it but he also felt weirdly guilty about doing so.  

Sam's distracted eyes saw Steeljaw in his alt mode right where he'd seen him this morning and he smiled at the charming slagger in spite of himself. Some part of him was aware that the mech was watching him in turn but with no signals out here to distract him he imagined it was mostly out of boredom.

About a dozen yards from the edge of camp Skids and Mudflap stopped, “This our exit, Sam-ma-man. Yer riding with hard light from here on out.” Mudflap stated as two holoforms materialized in front of them.

The first thing he noticed was that even though they were split spark twins, their holoforms were not identical. While categorically they shared similarities, both male, both light skinned African American, both tall with dark hair, they had wildly different aesthetics. Mudflaps holoform had a buzzed head and was dressed like someone on a smoking break with kind of baggy black pants, collared shirt and a navy hoodie on top. Something about him also looked like someone who'd let an alligator bite his nipple to win a bet. His shoes even looked scuffed up. Skids look was also unexpected. While his hair was longer, he looked more professional even if he was dressed like someone who didn't particularly like their job. The two mech forms then started heading around the drive to resume their parked positions, sure to give a wide berth to the humans in the vicinity.

The two holoforms bumped fists before Skids looped his arm around Sam's shoulder, “Like I said, yer with me. We gonna take apart this nullifier you built and figure out how it works.” He smiled. 

Mudflap veered off and joined the other tent, the one with the rocks in it. 

Sam scowled, “I know how it works. I don't want anyone else to know how it works.” He groused.

Skids looked thoughtful, “Yeah, I get it. It's a helluva thing, having the network like, silent, you feel me? I mean, I can still feel Muds but we're split sparks, like this.” He said and crossed his fingers to show Sam. “I only ever felt like this in deep space. Wild.” He dragged Sam into the apparent R&D tent. 

One of Sam's nullifier units was already sitting on a table inside. Sam's network of nullifiers to make the dead zone were placed such that having one fail or removing one in between two functional units wouldn't impact their effectiveness because he'd over engineered them, but Sam recognized the unit from across the valley, furthest from his home, least likely to affect the net. 

“You know they're going to use it to kill people.” Sam said, looking at the machine in despair. “It's going to be more blood on my hands.” 

Skids walked over to the table with the microwave on it and sat in one of the provided chairs. “Lemme give it to you straight. Now that they--” He waved his hand nebulously in the air, “--know this exists, ain't nothing gonna stop them from getting it. Ship's sailed. You being here is…a courtesy more than a requirement.” He shrugged, popping open the door and looking into the modulation chamber. “It don't mean you ain't valuable to the process, I'd love to work on this with you, but MacGyvered tech is my speciality.” 

Sam frowned, feeling diminished somehow by the explanation. “Aren't you concerned by the ethical implications of recreating something like this?” He tried again.

Amused eyes popped up to look at him before refocusing on the inside of the machine. “We been at war nearly all my life, man. I'da killed to get this then. It ain't exactly a weapon itself, right? It's a tool to compromise yer enemy. You still gotta do something to win.” He explained thoughtfully as he looked over the hodgepodge of Amazon items shoved in the small chamber. “This is a fuck.” He laughed. 

Sam shuffled uncomfortably in place. “Can't we just…destroy it?”

Pausing his perusal of the internals, Skids leaned back to give Sam a serious look, for once. “Sam-ma-man, I like you. I understand that you don't want this. Don't confuse my affection for willingness to compromise my Prime. I spent millennia in the shittiest parts of the galaxy, murdered for that mech. He tell me to do somethin’? I do it. He was blessed by Primus, man, can't argue with that.” He shrugged and Sam knew in that moment that any argument he made would fall on deaf ears. 

This unit being disassembled and reverse-engineered was as inevitable as the sun was to rise. Sam felt his knees soften a bit and he made it to a chair and sat down, suddenly feeling exhausted. 

“You're supposed to be the good guys.” He said disbelievingly of his own naïveté.

Face softening, Skids leaned back and folded his hands up and behind his head. “As far as what a ‘good guy’ is, we it. This tech is gonna be used to mitigate bloodshed. An enemy that thinks they got a chance of winning will entrench and fight till there ain't nothing left. I’ve seen it lotsa times. For being sentient robotic life forms we dumb as slag sometimes.” He blew out a huffed breath. “An enemy that gets caught with their spike out, who knows they ain't got shit and ain't getting shit that is fundamental to winning like basic communication? Man, they give it up. It's a nuclear option advantage without the carnage.” He shrugged. “It's not like we ain't got a reason for it. The ol’ Decepticon slaggers using guerilla tactics to hit supply lines and colonies ain't nothing to scoff at. They like the bloodshed so long as it ain't theirs.” 

Sam looked startled at Skids, confused, “I thought the war was over, that there weren't Decepticons or Autobots anymore.”

Pressing his lips together, Skids looked exasperated but not at Sam. “To quote, ‘Some people just want to watch the world burn'. Some mechs get a taste for violence and never wanna stop. They fail to reintegrate so they don't, instead joining a crew on a pirate frigate or start their own. Each ship, and there are dozens, is its own faction and they all say they are the last ‘true’ Decepticons. What they are is a roving band of pirates pretending to still be Decepticons. They fight among themselves way more than us.” He huffed. “The security forces are trying to round ‘em up, process ‘em, and reintegrate ‘em...eventually. Lotta ‘em are glitched from something or other, millions of cycles with duct tape and prayers. It’s been a long war and parts have been scarce, but, gallows humor, not a problem anymore.” He knocked on the table.

Sam was quiet for a while, processing that. Skids, taking in his expression, nodded before he stood up; going to a workbench against the wall of the tent and started pulling out equipment and tools, placing them in neat rows next to the nullifier. Sam watched him despondently, noting that a fair few of the items weren’t of Earth origin absently.

Though Skids kept an eye on Sam, he didn’t press him as he set out a clean white sheet and grabbed a tool and slowly started the disassembly process. Every item was recorded, tagged with a part number, and noted where the connection points were in clear, concise characters in Skids’ hand.  

It was partway through the process that Skids made a thoughtful sound. “And what do you do?” He wondered aloud.

Sam absently glanced at what Skids was looking at, before folding his arms on the table and leaning forward, “It negates radar signal feedback.” He explained. “It’s high energy enough that it reverberates through even if the nullifier blocks the actual signal. Like a gong. The signal is the mallet and the feedback is the sound.” He muttered into his arms. “That doohickey acts like a…padded vice on the gong, keeps it from reverberating.”

Skids looked at the small silicon board in his hand with an interested look. “From a cheap itty bitty development board.” He laughed, “Clever, man.” He tagged the item and set back to work.

They continued like that for the rest of the morning, Skids mostly working quietly until something looked odd and then Sam would explain the reason for the part or its function. Sam, for his part, was disassociated. This whole thing sucked. It sucked super hard because Sam wanted to share his achievement, he was proud of what he’d made, wanted to talk about it and gush like he used to do with Miles over legos and stuff, but it was tempered by the knowledge of why they were doing this. Skids, luckily, didn’t try to encourage him to participate, or try to justify what they were doing any further, just offered prompts and let Sam decide to join in or not.

The tent door flap opening and First Aid poking his head in was the first indication of just how much time had elapsed. Based on the mech's expression Sam cringed and smacked his face, remembering that the medic had requested a ‘sample’ that he’d completely forgotten.

“Ah geeze, I’m sorry. I got distracted.” Sam apologized, standing up and moving towards where the medic was giving him an ‘understanding but disappointed’ expression.

First Aid looked him over and frowned, “You need to eat too, you are showing signs of low blood sugar.” He mused. Turning back to Skids he addressed the mech who had set a spanner down at the medics arrival. “Anything you need to send while I’m in signal?”

Skids looked at the partially disassembled unit and shrugged. “Dunno, lemme check with you before you roll out. I’m still parsin’ this out.” He sighed, running his hand through his hair. 

The holoform's mannerisms were so authentic and natural that Sam would never have been able to guess he wasn’t human if he couldn’t just tell. His ability to do so had also improved, because when he saw a blond talking to someone in the command center tent Sam could tell first that it was a holoform and just as quickly that it was Sideswipe. He paused mid-step before following the medic back to the house.

First Aid prepared another aesthetically pleasing sandwich and warmed some soup while Sam prepared his sample, washing his hands thoroughly before bringing said sample out to First Aid who promptly sub-spaced it. Sam frowned at the hot soup, glancing at the cinders in the stove. Sam didn’t really have a way of making food hot fast, having only a range and a fridge in the kitchen as far as appliances went and the stove appeared to be completely unused.

Glancing at him, First Aid chuckled when he figured out Sam’s confusion. “A feature of our hard light forms is that we can accelerate molecules caught in the field. Not by much, but enough to heat soup or keep equipment from freezing within a certain range of the ambient temperature.” He explained, inserting his hand through the soup bowl to demonstrate.

Sam’s eyes widened and he grinned, for a moment caught up in the wonder of, ‘Oh yeah, these are alien robots’ and ‘OMG THESE ARE ALIEN ROBOTS’. He laughed in excitement, “That is so cool. I didn’t know that you could do that.” He marveled, sitting at the chair that had returned to the table sometime in the morning.

First Aid nodded, sitting down as well. “I suppose it’s not considered particularly interesting by the standards that we hold ourselves to. I can’t count the number of times someone has shown me a new part that will ‘solve all of your problems’.” He chuckled, using finger quotes. “It’s mostly ion cannons. Or something so close to an ion cannon as to be indistinguishable.” He griped. 

Chuckling, Sam ate his sandwich and soup while listening to First Aid explaining interesting stories about the various incidents where he had had to correct an incompatibility between a new part and the mech who had already attached it to themselves.

“--and then Hot Rod acted surprised when the intake manifold sucked up his ammunition and exploded. You can’t have an intake with that kind of negative pressure within centimeters of where you’re storing your rounds and expect a good outcome.” He snorted elegantly.

Sam shrugged, “I mean, this is the same bot who literally jumped on a grenade to protect someone. Thinking things through doesn't come naturally for him, sometimes.” He said around a bite of sandwich. 

First Aid's eyebrows shot up at that, “He what?”

Sam nodded as he swallowed, “Uhh…gosh, it was either Skram or Quickslinger, but someone dropped a grenade basically under Kup’s aft and instead of tackling Kup he dived on the grenade. It was a dud, luckily, but that mech definitely makes choices.” He snorted. A swell of surprising affection caused him to blurt out, “He’s destined for great things though.” He admitted, vaguely confused why he was so sure of it.

Leaning back, First Aid snorted, “I’ll believe it when I see it. You didn’t have to weld his pelvis and his backstrut back together because he decided tackling a mech three times his size was a ‘fantastic idea’.” He huffed. Looking at the empty dishware in front of Sam, he tilted his head at the human. “Are you still hungry?”

Giving First Aid a head shake, he stood up with his plates. “Nah. You don’t have to nursemaid me First Aid, I can do stuff still. I’m not physically incapable of feeding myself.” He poked at the mech gently.

First Aid leaned back and considered Sam, “You are underweight, Sam.” He pointed out mildly. “I would be remiss if I wasn’t actively working to address that as your current overseeing physician.”

Smile shifting into a light scowl, Sam started cleaning his dishes. They stacked up surprisingly quickly if he didn’t clean them after every meal and Sam had had enough paper towel plate disasters that he’d finally given up the practice. “I’m just not hungry sometimes.” He defended himself.

Scrutinizing him, First Aid sighed. “I’m not arguing about this. You don’t need to justify yourself to me, I understand that your appetite is highly variable, I’m merely stating that it has failed you as an adequate measure of your body's caloric needs consistently in the past.” He said reasonably.

Sam scrubbed the bowl more aggressively and longer than necessary, but couldn’t really argue with the medics assessment. He knew he wasn’t a healthy weight, wasn't healthy, that he was some kind of sick, and that the last couple of years had been harder on him. He'd actively been ignoring it, because what was there to do about it?

He'd stopped going to doctors around the time he'd figured out that he'd literally stopped aging. The possibilities of too interested people had outweighed any possible benefits he'd have seen. Now with everything integrated, the reality of the kind of paperwork gymnastics he'd need to do to actually get into a clinic to get real care were such that he'd stopped even thinking about it. It left him, however, in this weird place where he knew he was sick but didn't know how badly. First Aid's attention was the first care he'd received in nearly 45 years, and even though he now had it he was terrified of what that really meant.

“It’s gotten worse lately.” He finally admitted. “It didn’t used to be this bad.”

Quiet for a moment, First Aid stood to join Sam in the kitchen and leaned against the fridge, arms folded. “In what ways?”

Shrugging, Sam finally admitted that the bowl couldn’t be cleaner than it was at that point and moved to one of the dishes stacked in the sink from the night before. “No appetite, lethargic, I get cold easier, the headaches with nosebleeds, and the seizures have been slowly increasing. The visions come out of nowhere even if I'm not having a seizure." He admitted. "I had things under control like 30, 40 years ago but it's been a gradual decline.” He frowned. “The memories are clearer, but they’re more…variable. If you're real then I know that many of them are in this world but I also know that some of them aren’t. Either way, it’s been great for my writing and awful for my health.” He grumbled. 

Regarding him with clear blue eyes, First Aid nodded. “Stress related appetite loss and gain is common with humans. I daresay that the memories would count as a sizable point of stress and many of your symptoms are the common symptoms of a low BMI, which you have.” Tapping his finger against his elbow he regarded Sam. “Seizures, too, can be triggered from very low blood sugar. When was the last time you had a seizure? Your medical records indicate that you suffer from both tonic clonic and atonic.”

Rubbing his thumb to get a piece of cheese off the plate, Sam shrugged. “The atonic ones have mostly gone away I think, I get a few a year now that I notice. The tonic clonic have amped up though, I get ‘em every two or three weeks right now. I'm getting good at predicting when they're coming on so I lay on the rug if I can.” He nodded to the thick wool one by the couch that didn't have furniture on or near it. “Had one about…10 days ago? I'm useless after and the days kind of just blend together.”

“No medication?” First Aid asked, but his expression said he already knew there wasn't.

Still, Sam shook his head. “I wasn't finding a benefit. Seizures came on anyway and the symptoms weren't reduced, they just made me feel sick the rest of the time too.”

He conceded with a nod before looking Sam over critically. “I have to admit that I’ve been tempted since arriving to remove you from the dead zone to run a full diagnostic but I have been restricted from doing so.” He grumped, a scowl on his face.

Sam shuddered, unconsciously moving away from First Aid. “I’m glad you were, I can barely get out of the drive before I get a splitting migraine.” 

“You understand how barely operational this is.” First Aid pointed out.

Sam set the plate and the sponge down, turning to scowl at the medic. “Yes, First Aid, yes, I know how restrictive this is but what other option do I have? I can't go to the doctor anymore because I'm permanently 17 and they'd notice that. There’s ‘nothing wrong’ with me--” He finger quoted his last doctor's appointment, “--so all I can do is manage the symptoms. They’re getting worse and I just…God, what if I’m dying? What if I’m hallucinating this whole thing while I am doing some kind of like, palliative self-soothing?” He rasped, eyes closed and missing the queer, confused look on First Aid's face. “I am surviving out here, First Aid. The only thing I have is that fucking manuscript and they took even that away.” He ranted angrily. “And now they're reverse-engineering my shield to make it a sword and there's nothing I can do about it and they're going to take me from my home.” He closed his eyes and smacked his hand on the counter, “If this is a hallucination it's an awful one.” 

The quiet that followed was delicate, brittle, and Sam drew his hands up to rub at his eyes with his knuckles. “You didn’t deserve that; I’m transferring my impotent rage on you because you’re here and you’re nice and an easy target. I'm sorry. I hate just…this. I don’t people well and I’m out of practice. I'm sorry.” He apologized. 

The mech's face never shifted but he nodded, “It’s not the worst thing someone has shouted at me.” He shrugged. “That’s still Getaway. While I understand, I would not like to allow this to become a habit. I am more than happy to discuss things with you, you have some very large emotions that you haven't been dealing with, but I’m not the enemy here, Sam. None of us are. We might be newly acquainted but to everyone here you’re our top priority.” He explained in an even tone. Not mad, not overly sympathetic, but calm and collected.

“I know the nullifier is a painful topic right now, that you feel exploited, but its practical applications are going to save countless lives. It’s hard to see the big picture when you’re in the muck but I can assure you that we understand what we’re doing.” First Aid reassured Sam. 

Shaking his head, Sam finally set the dishes in the drying rack. “I’m tired. I’m going to go take a nap.” He announced, drying his hands on pants as he walked to his bedroom.

First Aid didn’t say anything, nor did he follow, so when Sam closed his door he had at least some semblance of privacy.

The room was frigid from the window being open but it had aired the space out nicely. Sam pressed his hand to the bed and was pleased that the sweat he’d left on it had evaporated. Circling the frame he closed the window before pulling his boots off and crawled onto the mattress with his jacket and hat still on, hauling the blankets up and over himself. 

For a long time Sam just laid there, shivering slightly as the bed heated up. It was a slow process but with his gear still on he wasn’t terribly uncomfortable. The vague sounds of camp outside settled into background noise, his breathing with it. He was exhausted, both mentally and physically at this point and he was just…tired of fighting. The Witwicky resiliency had its limits and he was nearing his.

It was just so much change at once. Nothing changed in his life, not really. He practically lived the same day in repetition with the only change being the seasons. Other than an episode, there was nothing to break the monotony, and…well, he’d settled, didn’t he? He settled with the knowledge that one of these episodes was going to kill him and he’d come to peace with that. He hadn’t liked it, but there it was. It was one of the reasons he let Dave the Delivery Dude deliver to his porch - at least if he died someone would notice within a couple of weeks.

Now though…there were so many possibilities that he was…Primus, he was scared. Petrified. He didn’t control this, not like he’d tried to control everything else in his life. He’d skimmed the fat from how he lived to the point that it was too lean to live on.

He must have dozed off to that lovely thought because someone knocking on his door roused him and he called out “Yeah?” before he was even close to awake.

Will opened the door and leaned against the frame with his arms crossed, surveying Sam in the bed. “It’s freezing in here.” He remarked after a moment.

Sam rubbed his eye. “Yeah, I aired the room out but it’s drafty anyway so it doesn’t heat well, not unless I stoke the fire for a while.”

Nodding, Will looked pensive for a long moment. Sam, still mussed with sleep, didn’t mind the quiet while he tried to wake up. Will sighed. “At the comprehensive level, do you understand why we’re doing what we’re doing?” He finally asked.

Feeling sniped, Sam snuggled down in the bed. “Yes. I understand. I’m just angry and scared and I don’t want to.” He groused.

Looking vaguely relieved, Will relaxed against the door frame. “You understand the kind of danger that you’d be in if we left you here?” He clarified.

“Yes.” He hissed. “I’ll either die in an episode or get kidnapped by pirates and kept as some kind of weird pet until I croaked.” He huffed.

Screwing his eyes shut in the universal expression of parents asking their deity for the patience to deal with the attitudes of not-adults, he looked back at Sam. “Skids has a prototype ready for testing. I’d like to take you to the edge of the dead zone and see how it does.”

Eyes suddenly opening and staring at Will in open confusion, he gaped. “I was gone for like an hour!” He said incomprehensibly. 

Lennox quirked his brow. “You’ve been napping since 11am, it’s almost 5pm.” He said in amusement. 

Sam sat up, looking behind Will at the angle of the light outside and realized the man was right. He’d missed most of the day somehow. 

“Were you sleeping in your coat?” Will asked incredulously.

Swinging the blanket up and over him he sat up in the bed and rubbed his eyes some more, Sam shrugged. “It’s cold. I have to change the sheets anyway.” He pointed out. 

Will rubbed his forehead and sighed, stepping back from the frame. “C’mon, I want this tested with enough time to get back for dinner.” He nodded towards the front door.

Feeling slightly more amenable to peopling after his apparently long nap, Sam knelt to pull his boots on before joining Will on the porch. The tents were still up but from the looks of things only those staying on site were still present. The turn out by the lake was empty so it was just the Cybertronians and Sam’s Zephyr left.

And the bathroom trailer.

Speaking of the Cybertronians, they had all shifted from their alt modes and were waiting around the house, speaking quietly together since they couldn’t ping one another. Sam frowned. “Why can't I hear you moving around? Optimus stomped so much that my parents thought we were having an earthquake when he was sneaking around at my house.” He asked in blatant confusion.

There was a collective pause before Sideswipe started laughing, “Optimus Prime, sneak?” He managed to get out. “He’s, what, 30 human feet?”

“Depends on the human.” Mudflap offered with a grin.

Cliffjumper shot them both looks before turning back to Sam. “It became quickly apparent that our tread caused issues with everyday relations.” He explained, bending to point at his ped, “Wheeljack designed inertial dampeners that we’ve installed, now we’re about as loud as you are.”

Doing a double take, Sam looked around at them incredulously. "And they didn't explode?" Barricade's scowl informed Sam that some of the earlier models probably had.

Sam leaned forward and could see the secondary set of hydraulic looking tubes in the struts of their cadulen*. Cliffjumper saw Sam’s look of interest and nodded. “Sam? First Aid, Skids, Lennox and I will be taking you to the edge of the dead zone for this test run. If your symptoms become too severe we’ll return and test when you’re recovered.” He concluded.

Sam nodded, heart in his throat as they made their way to the road. Absently, Sam was glad that it’d been an unusually dry few days so that this much traffic wasn’t destroying the drive. When they arrived at the section of the drive that had no towering trees to block them, each Cybertronian stepped forward into their alt-mode as space became available and started down the long roadway. Lennox and he stood until it was finally Cliffjumper's turn and the mech stepped forward and transformed. 

While a lot of cars were sleek and boxy now, the widespread adoption of auto navigation systems changing to reprioritize the focus from exterior aesthetics to the comfort of the internal cabin, Sam was relieved that Cliffjumper’s alt-mode was a little more familiar, the sleek lines of a muscle car a welcome respite from the far more common cuboidal shapes. The doors popped open and Sam didn’t even bother trying for the driver's seat, just curiously looking inside the cabin as Will walked around the Cliffjumper's alt-mode. 

While for the most part the seating area wouldn’t have been noticeably different from a car in the 2010’s, the dash was another story entirely. At some point the digital displays had become standard and the dash, the whole thing, had become an infotainment center. The wheel itself, when not engaged, tucked under the dash so the ‘driver’ could enjoy the screen without having their view blocked.

Sam had never driven in one, he’d bought and only driven the Zephyr before the dash had come as standard in vehicles and had been happy for it. 

“C’mon Sam, we’re wasting sunlight.” Lennox called as Sam dawdled outside.

Snapping out of it, Sam nodded and climbed in, sitting down on the leather-esque seat and gently pulling the seatbelt down and over his shoulder. He had rarely ridden with any mech but Bee, but he had been raised by Judy Witwicky and manners had been scolded into him and being in someone’s cab was a bit of an intimate affair, even if it was a necessity. You could really hurt someone from their cab so they had to trust you not to and Sam took that very seriously.

Lennox glanced at Sam, who was sitting stiffly with his hands in his lap before Cliffjumper started forward. “You can relax, Sam. He doesn’t bite.”

Rolling his head on his shoulder, Sam balefully glared at Will. “I am being polite. Some ‘bots don’t like ‘grubby little human hands’ messing up their interior.” He replied.

Will’s eyebrows shot up and he couldn’t help but laugh at Sam. “Who told you that?” He got out between chuckles.

Glaring at the General, Sam pulled at a thread in his jacket. “Ratchet.” He finally mumbled.

That sparked a laugh from Cliffjumper, the dashboard lighting up with his mirth. “Yeah, I could see that.” The red mech admitted as they rounded the bend and started approaching the turn out. The turnout wasn’t the edge of the dead zone, but it was close and Sam could feel his anxiety increasing the closer that they came. Cliffjumper made a soft noise, “Sam, I need you to tell me when you need us to stop, okay?”

Sam nodded stiffly as they followed First Aid and Skids into the turn off, the two bots easily transforming. First Aid stayed close while Skids made his way towards where the dead zone started to thin. Cliffjumpers doors popped open after he'd rolled to a stop with no input from either human inside. Unbuckling his safety belt, Sam slid out of the car and stuffed his hands in his pockets and looked around.

The turnout wasn’t his, and there wasn’t much out here so he rarely came out this far on his own. The view back to the cabin was picturesque though, even with the tents and the four mech’s clearly watching them.

Cliffjumper rolled back and transformed, standing up and glancing down at Sam and Lennox. “Skids is marking the boundary so we can tell the effectiveness by range.” He explained.

Sam turned to watch Skids digging a heel into the ground at mysterious intervals. “I’m still surprised that he could recreate the nullifier so quickly.” He admitted. 

Lennox’s mouth thinned, “Well, we’re not sure that he did. When he came out here earlier the prototype appeared to mimic the behavior of yours, but not before he had to make a lot of adjustments for tuning. We are also working with a lot of assumptions about your signal reception.” He sighed.

Skids appeared to have completed his measurements as he came jogging back. “Done.” He said shortly before kneeling down and sub-spacing a helmet into his servo. It was…rudimentary to say the least. The helm was 3D printed with a bright blue filament that would cover most of his head above his face. Attached to that were a series of modules and wires which led down to a handheld power bank that had a sticker with ‘Property of I.C.E.R.’ stuck to it.

It looked like a brain scanner from a bad 80’s sci-fi movie.

Looking at the helmet dubiously, Sam looked up at Skids. “And you…tested this?”

Unoffended, Skids chuckled. “I know it don’t look like much, but it’s easiest to work out the bugs on.” He pointed out. “We refine when we know what works. Yer piece looked straight forward but was more than met the eye.” 

Skids holoform appeared off to the side, stepping forward he took the unit from his bigger counterpart and approached Sam.

Sam wanted to turn right back around and bolt back to the house. He wasn’t ready for this, it was all happening too quickly. He was scared. What if it didn’t work?

What if it did?

“Easy Sam. You’re doing great.” Lennox said quietly next to him. “This is just a test. The helmet can’t hurt you and we’re here if anything happens, okay?” 

Sam nodded stiffly, trying to regulate his breathing as the much taller holoform waited until he was calm to carefully slip the device on. It wasn’t particularly comfortable, the plastic applied pressure unevenly and the weight of the equipment wasn’t negligible. Skids finger's carefully checked things that Sam couldn’t see for what felt like a long time but was probably not. 

When Skids seemed satisfied, he stepped back and handed Sam the powerbank. “So, we’re gonna go nice and easy.” He reassured the clearly still very nervous Sam. “Over there? That’s a 10% decrease in dead zone at each line.” He explained. “All's you gotta do is walk till you get signal. Easy peasy, eh?”

“Yeah, easy peasy.” He said faintly, nodding his head as much as the helmet would allow.

First Aid knelt down next to them and caught Sam’s nervous eyes. “We’ll be right here, Sam. If you need to take a break or stop, we can.” Sam nodded before taking a deep breath and nodding again, more aggressively.

Will patted his back. “C’mon, standing here thinking about it is going to be far worse than actually doing it.” Turning to Skids, Will raised his eyebrow to check if they were good to go. 

Stepping back, Skids nodded, “You good.” The mech version walked forward and outside the field while Cliffjumper made his way to the midway point and set his servos on his hip flexors, surveying from the greatest perspective. First Aid stood and stepped back, optics on Sam. Sam breathed out and with the battery pack in hand, Lennox behind him and Skids’ holoform next to him he started making his way towards the boundary. 

What's the worst that could happen?

Chapter Text

Sam wasn’t brave. 

He’d had his brave moments, for sure, but mostly he was a self preservationist placed in unusually demanding positions that he more or less just had to deal with.

His brave moments really only came from Cybertronians in need. Car turns out to be an alien? Clearly help him. More aliens who are friends with your car show up? Gotta help them too. Find a Magical Space Cube? Well, gotta help keep it away from the scary monster who wants to use it to turn every device with a chip on your planet into a killing machine.

It’s like he can’t help it with Cybertronians. Once he looks up into their big, usually blue, optics? Lost. Completely and utterly helpless to say and mean no. 

There were loads of times when he’d known it would be smarter, safer, wiser to back out - but he’d only managed to do it when he'd been leaving for Princeton and he'd learned the rule about no cars on campus and even then? It wasn’t because Sam didn’t want Bumblebee around, it was because Sam was certain that he was holding Bumblebee back from a better life.

Despite what Bee told Sam, Sam could tell that Bee was bored hanging out at the house like some kind of giant pet. Sam loved spending time with Bee, laughing and goofing off and driving and just being, but Sam had time obligations that Bee couldn’t come with. Or could he?

In his old world during all of their days Sam had never seen any autobot with a holoform, he'd thought that the trait was unique to Barricade, but with everyone and their mother now having one…Sam wondered.

Sam knew that holoforms didn’t just happen, you needed a suite of components as part of an extension of your sensor array, and that they were expensive in energy reserves. It could be as simple as Bee just didn’t have the extension, or that his had been damaged at some point. Bumblebee had been dealing with a myriad of smaller and large repair issues for as long as Sam had known him, they all had, but it had never seemed to bother them too much outside of Bee’s voice.

While Ironhide's cannons had been in tip top condition, Sam remembered that he was sensitive to cold on the back of his left thigh because the armor bit there was inorganic metal due to a lack of organic metal supplies, which meant that it didn't thermoregulate but instead just transferred the temperature to the more delicate protoform below.

He'd only known that because Jolt of all mechs had figured it out at some point and took delight in chucking these little icy magnets at the older mechs delicate area and then running like hell when Ironhide inevitably gave chase. At the time he'd thought it was hilarious, everyone had, especially when Ironhide 2 out of 3 times would catch the blue mech and they'd end up wrestling to the ground.

But it had been a bit less funny when Sam realized what that meant. 

Ironhide was a munitions expert specializing in front line combat. He was the mech you put in front to keep the enemy from pushing through. If they didn't have the resources to spare for him, it spelled worse for everyone else, especially since he was perhaps the closest to a real friend that Sam had seen for Ratchet.

At least, Sam assumed they were good friends. Sam hadn't seen Ratchet offer to get high off of power lines with anyone else. 

Although, the amount of energy could have been it too? Energon had been tightly guarded and was the main reason Bee had needed to leave Sam back home. While this Earth had Energon components in spades, his last one hadn’t and that meant that the low reserves that they had of the stuff were rationed, one of the reasons that Bee spent so much time in his alt-mode was that it was close to the most limited amount of energy usage a Cybertronian could have while still being functional and conscious.

It was…well, not impossible to know. Sam knew many impossible things, but he didn’t know this. He also didn’t know what was about to happen. The less important, more esoteric impossible to know thing was the safest to focus on right now rather than the one he was going to find out.

Now.

That’s what he kept focusing on as he put one foot in front of the other towards the great unknown.

No one said anything as he approached the first line. It was a mercy and cruelty because it saved him from having to say anything but gave him little else to focus on other than his own swirling thoughts and his new fashion accessory. The helmet pressed uncomfortably against his skull in weird places and each step moved it slightly, just enough to be noticeable. Finally after forever and no time at all he was at the starting line.

“Just remember, you feel signal, you signal.” Skids smiled reassuringly and Sam couldn’t help the tremulous smile back. From the holoform's expression he was pretty serious about that, so Sam couldn’t help but give it the due consideration that Skids deserved.

Taking a deep breath Sam stepped forward.

The course was maybe 30 yards, but each step made it seem further, not shorter; that sweet Witwicky anxiety kicking up a notch.

Skids, the mechanoid form, stood at the far end of the course with his attention focused on Sam. He’d guess that the mech was taking all kinds of readings of what he could from where he was standing, the distant look in his optics lending that assumption weight. 

For his part, Cliffjumper also appeared to be supervising with the utmost concentration. His blue optics followed Sam like one would a particularly concerning car crash you knew was going to happen but weren’t sure where on the course. Which, incredibly motivating there Cliffjumper. Thanks a lot.

Next to him, Lennox actually felt like a bigger grounding force than the literal behemoths around them. Even though Sam had really only known this Lennox for such a short amount of time, his presence alone was a comfort - possibly because he was just human. He got it on a fundamental level that the mechs really just couldn't. He wasn’t putting on any airs, he was just Will, and he was going to do everything he could to get Sam out of there safely.

Just like he always promised he would.

Step after step, Sam remembered to breathe and keep going. It’s just walking, Sam could do that. 

Approaching the 30% line, however, Sam slowed as he felt the start of buzzing in his back teeth. Frowning, he stopped and raised a hand to his head. Lennox and Skids slowed and stopped as well, turning to him with attentive expressions of concern.

“Do you hear buzzing?” Sam asked, certain that they didn’t but hopeful none the less.

Lennox shook his head as Skids leaned forward, hands already up and fiddling with something on the outside of the helmet. “I’m gonna make adjustments. Tell me if it's better, worse, or different, ‘kay?” 

Sam, since he couldn’t nod his head, instead made an affirmative noise. At first there was no change, but then it spiked very high suddenly and he hissed in pain, “High, it’s high now, go back!” The pitch dipped almost immediately and Sam realized he had staggered and clutched Will’s arm in surprise at the spike. Letting go, he straightened up and breathed easier as the pitch continued to lower further still. “It’s getting lower, I can barely hear it now.” He informed Skids in relief.

“Cool, that’s cell tower signal.” Came the dilettante inventor’s response. “Tell me when it’s silent.” As he continued to adjust something until Sam was once again left in the cold evening air quiet.

“There. I can’t hear the buzz anymore.” He sighed in relief.

“Cool.” Skids said, leaning back and taking a step back as well. “That’s the most common." He looked Sam and the helmet over before coming to a conclusion. "We ain't in a place for some signals so I’m gonna simulate a selection for ya, tell me if they register.” He prompted.

For a moment nothing happened before Sam heard a noise like a drill. He grunted, holding his head as the new signal assaulted him more strongly than the cell phone signal had. They proceeded like that long enough that they did lose the light and the mechanoids were forced to turn on their headlights. 

Sam couldn’t say how long they proceeded like this. Time, when you’re in pain as he was in pain, was kind of more abstract. Two of the signals, doppler and radar, reverberated so strongly in his head at the 30% mark he’d almost upchucked on Skids in unintentional retaliation.

It was only Will’s hand on one shoulder and the other cold one placed on his nape that kept the stomach acid where it was meant to be.

As they made slow, steady progress, Will’s hand stayed planted on Sam’s neck and while it should have felt weird or, you know, uncomfortable, Sam instead found the connection comforting. Grounding. It kept him going far longer than he would have otherwise, just that hand and Will’s constant reassurance that he was there and he was with Sam in this for better or for worse

At that point they were at the 50% mark and Sam shook his head gently, the migraine building there now impossible to either ignore or really work through. He was noticing auras, or the darkening of his vision in the periphery, starting about the 40% mark, and they'd just gotten more intense the further he'd walked. While common, Sam knew that if they didn't stop he wouldn't be able to see where he was going even with everyone's headlights on.

“I’m done.” He announced, feeling achy and cold and with what was looking to be a doozy of a migraine building between his temples independent of the ocular symptoms. 

Skids paused what he was going with the helmet, before nodding. “Sure thing, man.” He agreed, stepping back and leading Sam back with Lennox to the dead zone before helping to remove the helmet. First Aid quickly joined them and folded into his alt-mode, holoform in front to welcome Sam into the patient compartment and onto the gurney.

Sam felt woozy, the kind of woozy that comes about from being uncomfortable for an extended amount of time before finally being relieved. First Aid knelt down and had Sam follow his finger with his eyes and then checked his pupillary response with a penlight that Sam wasn’t sure was really a penlight or a hard light version of a penlight. “Hey Sam, how are you feeling?” 

Sam cringed from the light, “My head hurts. I've got some auras.” He responded, “I feel cold and sweaty, my hands feel shaky.” He said, glancing down at them. 

First Aid pocketed the light before pulling out a glucose meter and pressing it to Sam's cold finger tip. There was a beep a second later and First Aid read the screen with a frown, “Your blood glucose is low. Lower than it should be given what you ate earlier and the time that's elapsed, even given your physical activities.” He frowned thoughtfully. “Light sensitivity?”

Sam nodded and the bright cabin lights lowered to a dim glow. Sam moaned in appreciation and First Aid turned to Lennox and Cliffjumper, “I'm going to take him back and get some food in him; see what I can do about the migraine.” He informed them before the doors closed on their own and the heater kicked on. The ambulance gently drove forward and Sam raised his hands to press on his eyes and gently rub his skull through his hair.

“How does this compare to your usual symptoms from leaving the dead zone?” First aid inquired, carefully observing Sam's behavior.

“Not as bad. I haven't thrown up or anything. I don't even really feel nauseous.” He said, surprised and pleased by this discovery.

First Aid made a sound to indicate he was not pleased with what that implied. “Since you're not nauseous I would like you to eat this. It's a glucose pack, it'll help raise your sugar levels and should help with the shaking.” He said, pressing a small pouch into Sam's hand.

It was already open so Sam just sucked the thick, sweet solution up. It wasn't great, in fact the strength of the sweetness almost caused him to recoil, but he knew he needed the calories and easily digestible sugars. Even though First Aid didn't miss Sam's expression, he didn't comment on it. “When we get back I'm going to get you started on an IV with a migraine mitigation solution. When you're feeling a bit better we'll get you dinner, does that sound acceptable?” The medic asked while taking the empty pouch from Sam and subspacing it.

Making an affirmational noise, Sam let his heavy head sit in his palms the short distance back. It was a very smooth ride and Sam realized that First Aid must have modified the shock absorption of the alt-mode to make the ride easier for him. He smiled, touched, “Thanks, First Aid.”

The medic patted his knee. “Of course, Sam. I know this is a difficult process but you're doing very well.” 

Sam snorted, “Doesn't feel like it.” He grumbled.

First Aid made a thoughtful sound, “Let's see how you feel in a half hour, okay?”

The arrival back to 'camp', or his house, was uneventful in that Sam was very carefully taken back to his cabin and sat on his couch, First Aid helping him out of his jacket and sweater before leaving him to get the IV stand from his bedroom and bring it over. Sam pulled the blanket from the back of the couch down around himself and adjusted the pillows to support his back where the couch had given up the ghost decades ago. First Aid sat on the coffee table and quickly installed the line to the inside of Sam's elbow, subspacing a yellow IV bag and attaching the two before subspacing a set of syringes of clear fluid which he injected into the port for additional medication. 

Sam watched him bonelessly, curious but unbothered. He was in the malaise part of his symptom pool, which luckily meant he was too tired to care or do much of anything. First Aid leaned forward and adjusted the blankets to more comfortably cover Sam before getting up and start a fire in the fat black belly stove in the corner. Sam realized that the room was not that different in temperature from outside and without his layers he was starting to feel pretty icy instead of just cold, even with the blanket which hadn't started off warm either.

But the room warmed quickly with the fire going. First Aid had opened the grill and the hot air radiated outwards.

Sam’s eyes drifted closed when the warmth hit him. He lost track of everything for a little while until First Aid was checking the IV bag. He blinked at the mech in confusion. “Did I fall asleep?” He yawned.

Nodding, the medic smiled down at him. “It was only a stage 2 nap, you weren't asleep very long.” He explained. “Should be long enough for us to see some improvement in the migraine though. How does it feel?”

Sam blinked for a second before assessing himself. His head was still a bit achy, but the pressure which was the hallmark of his forays into the rest of the world seemed to be mostly absent and he didn't want to duck away from the light First Aid had turned on at some point. “Much better.” 

First Aid looked relieved. “Good. We’ll finish this bag and then grab something for you to eat.” He decided, nodding to himself before going to sit in the armchair where a book was held open by the arm. Sam realized the First Aid had been reading - which surprised him, though should it have? Without communication the mechs here must be bored as hell.

Sam gave a yawn and a small sound of agreement. “Where's Will?” he asked as his eyes drifted closed again. 

“Debriefing with Epps, Cliffjumper and Barricade. Our test today gave a more definitive time table so they're working out logistics.” 

Sam frowned, not particularly pleased with that but not willing to grumble about it. The shakes had stopped and soon he frowned as his stomach twisted a bit to let him know that he was actually starving. He opened his eyes and glanced at his stomach for a second, not remembering feeling hunger like that in recent memory. “I'm hungry?” He said, confused.

Looking pleased, First Aid nodded. “That'll be the appetite stimulant.” He explained, standing up to go to the kitchen to collect something.

Sam frowned, looking up at the IV in confusion. “What exactly did you give me, the whole pharmacy?”

Shaking his head, First Aid leaned back from where he'd shoved his head into the fridge. “Hardly. The main bag is a rally bag, sugars and salts and water to help get your levels back to normal from depleting them. I added the migraine medication when I administered the bag, as well as the appetite stimulant.” He listed off. “Your blood glucose level is concerning me, you're not at levels I would be expecting with your calorie intake.” He said in mild annoyance as he returned to the couch, one of the pretty sandwiches in hand, well, in plastic container, that he handed to Sam with a soda.

Sam shrugged. “I'm used to it.” He said, taking the sandwich and noting that it was Turkey. He'd had issues with his hunger levels for so long it had stopped concerning him at all.

Sitting back down in his chair and picking up the book but not reading it, First Aid gave him a look. “A feeding tube isn't off the table just because I'm not Ratchet.” He threatened mildly.

Sam held his hands up. “Okay! Well, whatever stimulant you used is working, I feel like I could eat a water buffalo.” The medic bot stared at him in absolute bafflement for a moment and Sam realized that even though First Aid looked and acted human enough that certain things, like pop culture references from the Lion King, were outside of his wheelhouse. "I could eat a buffet of food." He sighed, pickup the packaging open and lifting half of it up to his mouth with actual enthusiasm.

Giving Sam a slightly leery eye, First Aid nodded anyway. “Good. You have another 5 minutes until the bag is done. The Generals requested that we join them when you're feeling recovered enough to do so.” He explained, glancing at his book.

Sam looked too and was amused to see First Aid reading the 3rd installment of the series. Shaking his head, he continue to eat the sandwich under the medics gimlet gaze.

It was about 10 minutes later that First Aid set his book aside again, standing and walking to the IV. Sam, having finished back halves of his meal had closed his eyes at some point and had to force them open to watch as First Aid checked the bag before leaning down and unplugging the lines between Sam and the line. Instead of taking the IV out, though, First Aid just handed Sam his sweater. “With how things are right now I'd prefer to have an easy access point to administer medication should you need it.” He explained, cluing Sam into why he had not removed the IV port at Sam's curious look.

“I guess that makes sense.” Sam admitted, uncovering himself from his blanket and pulling the sweater on. It was baggy, like most of his stuff, so it didn't pull on the IV patch. When he stood he realized a body can only hold so much liquid and hooked a thumb to his room, “Bathroom.”

First Aid nodded. When Sam came back there was no one in the main room but him so he grabbed his jacket and slipped it on before stepping out onto the porch.

“Evening, Sam.” Called Steeljaw's voice from the right and Sam turned to find the large motorcycle a bit closer to the house and a man, holoform, leaning against it. Steeljaw's holoform was an older gentleman, probably late 30's or early 40's, with dark hair, dark eyes, and a complexion that looked like it saw a lot of sun. His choice in clothing, though, caused Sam to raise an eyebrow.

The mech was dressed like a cowboy, if a cowboy was also a biker. Black boots, worn jeans, a Cybertronian insignia on his shirt below a flannel below a leather biker jacket. He wore gold rings on his fingers and had a wolf tooth necklace on. On top of everything else he had a pair of sunglasses holding his hair back, a bit like Wolverine, and Sam chuckled.

“Who helped you with the clothes?” He asked, hands in his pocket.

Chuckling, Steeljaw swept a leather clad arm down at himself, “What, don't like my style?”

Sam shook his head but couldn't help the grin, “It's a statement, for sure. Not sure of what, but you're making it.” He ribbed the Mechanimal. Seeing as Steeljaw was out here, without much to do by way of activities either, Sam remembered First Aid and kicked his boot on the porch. “Uh, I know everyone's cut off from entertainment right now, would you like a book to read?” He asked.

Steeljaw paused whatever he was about to say, regarding Sam for a moment, before smiling. “That is a very kind offer, Sam. I wouldn't turn one down.”

Turning back to the house, Sam asked over his shoulder, “Got a preference?”

The Mechanimal shook his head, “Dealer's choice.”

Sam opened his door and walked to his book stacks. He glanced through before pulling what he was looking for out with a grin, lifting the book to his nose and taking a whiff of the old paper. Walking back outside, Sam trundled down the stairs until he was on the gravel and then walked over to join Steeljaw. The man, like his robot form, was bigger than you'd expect from just looking at him. He was about a head taller than Sam's rather unimpressive 5'5". 

Sam held the book out, letting Steeljaw take it from him. “Dune. It's one of the early copies from before it was watered down, so some of the characters are pretty brutal.” He explained. “I think you'll like it.”

Steeljaw looked the cover over thoughtfully. “It's an old book, as far as these things go.” 

Nodding, Sam reached over and tapped it with his index finger. “Just over a hundred. Not much for your kind, but plenty old for mine.” He said, stepping back. “It's a series, let me know if you'd like the second one or if it's not really up your alley.” As he began back towards the middle of the tent city.

“Thanks Sam.” Steeljaw called, already opening the book and leaning back against himself.

Sam still wasn't sure how to articulate how weird that was, because it was weird. It continued to be weird. It would be weird even in the future.

The rock research tent was dark, but there was light in the R&D tent. Glancing in, Sam saw Skids making adjustments to the helmet while checking a series of meters attached to it. Instead of greeting the mech though, Sam continued forward. The mess tent was also dark, but the command center was still lit up. 

Looking in, he saw Will and Epps sitting at the table with Barricade, Cliffjumper, and First Aid. The humans had trays in front of them that had steaming food on it, a third one set aside with a plastic dome on to keep the food warm. Sam, even if he didn't want to join them, knew that the draw of a hot meal was too much to deny and entered the tent.

Everyone turned to glance at him. Will raised a hand and gestured to the chair that had the last tray set in front of it, which he took up with a mumbled ‘thanks’. Lifting the lid, Sam regarding the food there; it was battered chicken(?), a medley of veggies and rice, and a bread roll. Even though he'd eaten the sandwich not so long ago, he was surprisingly still hungry. It looked good, it smelled great and Sam grabbed the cutlery and dug in with gusto. Maybe a bit too aggressively because by the time Sam came up for air again both Cliffjumper and Barricade looked morbidly impressed while Epps and Will finished at a more human pace. First Aid, for his part, looked pleased as punch with this development.

They had a large space heater going in the corner so the room was just this side of comfortable. Sam hadn’t noticed it until that point but was immediately grateful for it, it was almost warm enough to take his jacket off...but not quite there.

When he was full the plate was about 2/3rds done, but just because there was more food didn’t mean he needed to finish it. Leaning back, he shoved his hands in his pockets and tipped his head back, looking at the tent ceiling before closing his eyes. 

“I’m going to take that as an ‘I feel better’, huh?” Epps chuckled from across the table.

Sam made an affirmative noise before leaning forward and scrubbing his hands on his face. “Yeah, First Aid gave me some meds for the headache and stuff. Feel vaguely human again.” He admitted. Will and Cliffjumper nodded, Barricade just looking him over and appearing to not be upset with what he saw. 

First Aid folded his arms on the table, “I was just explaining my observations. We’re going to attempt to get you far enough out to perform a full scan tomorrow.” He explained to Sam. “At this point I can ascertain that there is something going on that cannot be observed from a standard assessment but I cannot identify what, as of yet, it is.”

Kicking back onto only the rear feet of the chair, Sam nodded. Made sense.

Cliffjumper leaned forward, setting one arm on the table while the other rested on the back of his chair. “We made promising progress today, we’re hoping for the same tomorrow.” He said, tapping the table with the side of his hand. “Once the mobile nullifier is operational, we’ll be collecting the other units from the property.” Feeling a spike of anxiety but knowing the game plan, Sam could only nod along. “The journey to base will take a few days.”

Just a few days? Sam bit his lip, worrying it. “I thought it would take longer.” He admitted quietly.

Will nodded, “I know that the move isn’t helping with the anxiety.” He noted and Sam was glad that they’d started having this conversation after he’d eaten because he could feel any appetite he had leaving him as their discussion continued.

Sam rubbed his face again, breathing on his hands, “I mean, it’s not. I have enough to go around, so that’s not a surprise.” He dropped the chair back on four legs, “I just…in my world your guys’ base was located on an island in the middle of the Indian Ocean. I just…kind of hoped I had the type of time that would take.” He shrugged.

There was a loud quiet from the other side of the table and when he looked up all of them were staring at him with various expressions from dismay to acceptance, before Epps scoffed. “We gotta stop being surprised, surprise isn’t a good look at our rank.” He laughed.

Looking around at them in confusion, Sam frowned. “What?”

Will pushed his tray away and leaned forward, resting his arms on the black plastic. “What was the name of the island?”

“Diego Garcia.” Sam responded, and from Will’s look Sam grinned. “No way, they gave it to you again?" He paused, frowning and looking up to the right in thought. "Or, I guess, for the first time?” Trying to clarify what he meant.

Barricade looked mildly impressed, then rueful. “Well, they didn’t want us taking over their land, so it makes sense. Give us a non-strategic, barely used, derelict base in the middle of nowhere.” He shrugged, “Been stationed in worse places. Even if the salts rough on our struts.”

Sighing, Will gave Barricade a look before turning back to Sam. “We’ll be going to the Cybertronian Embassy in Jasper, Nevada and then ground bridging to Diego Garcia.”

Frowning at that statement, he turned to Cliffjumper, Barricade, and First Aid. “Ground bridging?”

Cliffjumper nodded, “::Ground[!Space] Bridge[Transport][Portal]::.” He warbled.

Sam’s eyes widened in understanding. “Oh! I’ve only ever seen a space bridge. I didn’t know it came in the ground variety.” He explained, grabbing the ever present Gatorade bottle, seriously there must either have been a promotional deal on the stuff or the Cybertronians were being sponsored at this volume.

That caused Cliffjumper and Barricade to both lean forward in interest. “You’ve seen a space bridge? In a memory?” Barricade asked.

Sitting back, Sam popped the cap off and took a sip. “No. I wish. Jetfire used his Seeker ability and kind of kidnapped me to Egypt.” He grumbled.

That blew some eyebrows.

“Sam? Maybe you ought to stop telling us about the distant past and maybe start telling us about yours.” Will said, leaning forward.

Chapter Text

“My past?” Sam squeaked. “Oh, no, that’s pretty boring, honestly. Not much to tell about it really.” He shrugged, taking a bigger gulp of the Gatorade than he originally intended on taking and suddenly he was choking on the overflow of liquid, forced to cough aggressively to clear his lungs.

The look Will gave him was part amusement, part exasperation, and part concern when Sam finally looked back at the others on the opposite side of the table. “Sam, I don’t know if anyone has ever told you this before, but you have a terrible poker face.”

“The worst.” Epps confirmed.

Cliffjumper nodded sagely along with them, “Really, incredibly appalling.” 

Barricade just laughed at him, the slagger.

Sam glared at them, capping his Gatorade bottle and folding his arms over his chest with a huff. “It’s going to be confusing because so much is different.” He again tried to dissuade. 

“But also the same.” Will pointed out. “And some different but coincidentally works out similarly.” 

Conceding that point, Sam meddled with his Gatorade bottle in his hands and began to fiddle with the label. “It’s…really not a nice story.” He admitted, final gambit, regarding them through the fringe of his hair. 

Will nodded sympathetically but knowingly, reaching forward and tapping the table with his index finger. “They usually aren’t.” He agreed.

Shifting his gaze to stare blankly at his knees, Sam began his tale. He kept it mostly truthful; again, lying to a Cybertronian was nearly impossible, at least by a human. He explained about his great grandfather, the glasses, the madness. How he’d attempted to auction said glasses off on eBay of all places to purchase a car in a bargain with his father. Bolivia’s car lot and subsequently the entire car buying situation. The exploding glass had caused everyone at the table to chuckle, Barricade surprisingly more than the others. It was only when he got to the parts about Sector 7 that it started getting hard, started feeling private - personal. 

“Optimus figured it out first, I think.” He mused, having systematically peeled the label off the Gatorade bottle at this point. “That Sector 7 had seen a Cybertronian before. It didn’t matter, when their backup arrived it was too much for the five of them to handle and not cause a scene of mass destruction. I don't think Sector 7 would have cared but I know Optimus didn't want any more damage done than needed, he sacrificed Bumblebee to save a bunch of hostile humans. That's when Bee was captured. They kept hitting him with liquid nitrogen even though he wasn't fighting them. After that we were all kidnapped and disappeared into Sector 7’s bunker. Everyone was freaking out because all of the communications were down and well, there were more Decepticons willing to do things that the Autobots weren’t.”

Barricade chuffed, “Yeah, sounds about right.” He said pointedly before Cliffjumper smacked the former(?) Decepticon on the arm and nodded to Sam to continue.

Giving Barricade the side eye, Sam refocused on the plastic bottle in his hands. It was easier to talk to the bottle than to a room full of people. “They’d had a Cybertronian, a Decepticon, frozen on ice for decades. They’d been reverse engineering from him and most of our technology, or at least the building blocks for it, was based on his frame.” Sam continued. “Sector 7 called him ‘NBE1’, non-biological extraterrestrial 1. They called Bumblebee ‘NBE2’. While they were monologuing what they’d been doing, like some Saturday morning cartoon villains, I explained that the whole reason that everyone was a hornet's nest was because both factions were looking for the Allspark and bam, I could see they knew exactly what I was talking about. They had it.”

“This Sector 7, have you been able to find them or anything about them?” Barricade asked.

Shaking his head, Sam furrowed his brows. “No. Simmons said that they were above Top Secret, they had ‘make you disappear forever’ badges.” Sam stared to the side listlessly, “Considering that they felt fine hurting someone who wouldn’t even fight back and kidnapping a couple of minors, I think they probably would too.” He was quiet. “That’s when they showed us the Cube. It hadn’t been here as long, carbon dating had it only on that version of Earth for about 12,000 years, maybe. Someone found it and the government built the bunker around it. But just like they were experimenting on that Cybertronian, they were also experimenting on the AllSpark. They’d figured out a rudimentary way to direct the AllSpark's charge, and had been making these…angry little monsters with its energy and whatever tech they had lying around. They turned this Nokia phone into one and then…” 

Sam closed his eyes, the next part haunting him now that he understood. “I don’t know if it was a drone or not.”

There was stony silence from the three holoforms at the table and confused silence from the humans. Finally, First Aid muttered what Sam was afraid of. “::A Sparkling[NewSpark][Infant][Precious]::.” The flavor meaning attached to the words twisting like a fist in his viscera.

Nodding, Sam glanced up at the two confused humans. “A Sparkling. A baby.” He said to clue in the room. “I hope I’m wrong. I hope it was just an angry drone.” The Cybertronians looked horrified and Sam couldn’t blame them. “We were interrupted, the Decepticons had arrived, and suddenly we had not only Starscream to deal with but Megatron as well. With everything going to shit I was finally able to convince them to let Bee go and you know this bit.” He dodged. “Megatron planned to use the cube to transform every machine human's had ever built into a new soldier and add them to his army to finally have the numbers he needed to defeat the Autobots once and for all and then start his glorious campaign to 'Conquer the Stars'.” He raised a hand to indicate the sky above. “Killing or enslaving all of the humans to do so.”

Cliffjumper had recovered enough to frown. “You said that the AllSpark was destroyed by being turned into a weapon. How?”

Sam felt his chest constrict. “How?” His body curving inward unbidden in a defensive display.

Barricade nodded along, looking suddenly more interested. “Yeah, what happened?” He prodded. 

Hesitantly, Sam nodded, though his eyes skated away from the others in the room. “We were running away. Bee had the AllSpark. Optimus, Jazz, Ironhide and Ratchet were covering us…but it just wasn't enough. The fight was just…there were so many explosions. Someone launched a missile and it…it blew Bees legs clean off. Bumblebee got his legs blown off and just…he gave me the Cube to run it because he couldn’t. Then I was running and trying to give it to Optimus.” 

“Optimus Prime? Optimus Prime was planning on using the cube as a weapon against Megatron? That's…” No one could get their head around that. 

After a long moment, Sam finally shook his head. “No.” He corrected the others, looking away to a scene long ago in a galaxy far away. “It was supposed to be taken by the Air Force to remove it somewhere safe, but both Megatron and Starscream were there and fliers, there was no way to get it to them, let alone for the military to get it somewhere safe. Where even would be safe? Nothing can stop Megatron when he wants something." He recalled, detached. "It all happened so fast, Megatron and Optimus were fighting and Optimus wasn’t going to win. Megatron took like, a dozen missiles directly to the chassis but he wouldn't go down and was still fighting, they just made him more angry. He had Optimus down, and Optimus called out to me to bring the AllSpark to him. I didn’t understand what he wanted, not at first, and then he demanded that I put it in him, in his chest. Optimus wanted me to put the AllSpark in his spark. He wanted me to kill him so Megatron couldn’t get ahold of it. Couldn’t use it.” His voice went quiet. "A sacrifice play."

There was a different type of stunned silence, starting off as incredulous but rapidly shifting towards horror. “Optimus Prime wanted you, a literal child, to murder him when there were only two other functioning Autobots to defend the Earth and its people against the Decepticon invasion.” Barricade asked in a voice of righteous fury and no small amount of incredulity that Sam wasn't expecting. “You didn’t even know what the AllSpark was, you barely know what it is now!” He thundered.

Sam stared at the holoform in surprise. Cliffjumper regarded Barricade in censure, but he himself didn’t look much more pleased with this revelation than the clearly furious mech next to him. Barricade growled and Sam could hear a transformation cog engage before the holoform sputtered out in a flash of blue light and the deliberately loud pedsteps of the mech stomping carried him further away down the drive and out of earshot of the tent. 

Sam felt pale after that interaction, not sure what to say, when First Aid said it for him. “Optimus didn’t use the AllSpark to kill Megatron, you did.” He stated. The red head didn’t look mad, more surprised really. 

Sam felt his eyes sting at that. “Megatron couldn’t get the AllSpark.” He stated, unable to confirm it out loud. “But I didn’t understand what it meant.” He finally confessed. “If…if I knew…”

“You would have done the same thing.” Cliffjumper stated. It wasn’t an accusation, the tone was reasonable, understanding. “You were put in an impossible position. If you had killed Prime, the Decepticons would have destroyed you and your world, perhaps not immediately but in time. If Megatron had gotten it from you, he would have killed Optimus, raised an army, and destroyed your world anyway. The only path forward to save your people was to doom ours.” He reasoned like only a being who had been in war for millions of years could. 

Sam felt moisture in his eyes and he scrubbed at them aggressively with his wrist. “I didn’t want to. And no one hated me for it, they should have all hated me. I doomed them to a future of slow extinction.” He choked. “I doomed Bee. They should have...” 

A hand gently touched his shoulder and Sam started to ugly cry suddenly without his consent. He didn’t know who wrapped their arms around him at first, just that he wrapped his tight around them and sobbed 60 years of guilt into a cotton clad shoulder. It was like that for a long time.

But even the roughest storms pass and Sam soon cried himself out. The headache returned, though it was a vague thing, and he tightened his arms in the firm hug it turned out Lennox held him in. The room had emptied but for Sam, Lennox, and First Aid and Sam was grateful for it. He felt hollowed out, like he’d cried his insides empty.

It seemed strange, really, to get comfort from a man he’d only known for a day. Sam knew his familiarity had an element of transference because this wasn’t his Will, but he desperately wanted it to be. Just a little bit of something familiar, that's all he wanted. He was so alone and had been for so long and he just wanted not to be for once, just for a little while.

First Aid pressed his hand to Sam’s forehead. “I think that’s enough for tonight.” He said to Lennox quietly, who nodded against the side of Sam’s head and slowly released him; Sam did the same and let his arms fall down as First Aid knelt by his chair. “C’mon Sam, let’s go get you ready for bed, huh?”

Sam nodded listlessly and let the medic help him up and followed obediently behind the holoform as he led him back to the cabin. He didn’t remember much about getting ready for bed, but found himself freshly showered and in pajamas when he came back to himself. He was in bed, the air warm as the door was open and the stove was roaring away in the living room. First Aid was sitting in the dining room chair which had been moved back into the bedroom, his book from earlier in his hands as he read.

Frowning, Sam looked around. First Aid gazed up and smiled at Sam. “Hey, back with me?”

“We were in the tent.” He said slowly. 

Sitting back in the chair, First Aid set his book aside with a nod. “Correct. You had a mild dissociative episode. All things considered, not an unexpected protective response.” He stated uncritically. “From your medical records I have gathered that you're prone to them.” 

Sam made a noise of assent. “I haven't had one that extreme in a while.” 

“It has been a stressful couple of days for you. Unfortunately, we inspire a great many stress reactions when humans find out about us, not a great many of them good without forewarning.” He said ruefully. “Your response, though intense, has at least been positive. You didn't, for instance, attempt to shoot Barricade when you first met him here, in spite of every indication you had of his hostile intentions given your encounters with him in your original world.” 

Rubbing his eyes, Sam nodded with a small grin. “I was so happy to see him I didn't even care if he squashed me. Crazy, right?” He paused, looking past the door. “Is he okay? He…I didn't mean to make him mad.”

First Aid gave him a reassuring look. “You didn't make Barricade angry, he does that well enough all on his own. Barricade is, like all of us, a work in progress. After the war was over he spent a lot of time in the frontier territories establishing contact with distant colonies. It wasn't a particularly nice job, and he had to see a lot of the repercussions and consequences of the war, including how the innocent suffered for it.”

Closing his eyes, Sam curled up further under the covers. “He was a peace officer before the war.” He remembered. 

The redhead nodded. “He was. He was in one of the most corrupt districts on Cybertron, being near the Senate, and lost faith in his role when the positive impact he could perform was mitigated by the harm being done all around him without consequence. Being in the colonies was a...reality check, to borrow a phrase. He was finally defending the innocent rather than fighting the enemy and it gave him a different perspective. He found purpose again. He's still rough around the edges…but it's part of his charm.” First Aid explained with a slightly sarcastic smirk. “He was assigned to the Earth mission specifically for his experience with Xenopopulus. He's been an invaluable member of the team.”

Sam blinked his eyes open in surprise. “Really?” He asked, and at First Aid's nod of agreement he leaned back a bit. “You know what? I'm really happy that he's found something that he finds validation in.” Sam decided. It was a bit more personal than most ‘turn your life around’ stories, but he wasn't going to deny someone the opportunity to change because of his own bias. He'd seen people change all the time, though admittedly it was rarely for the better.  

The mech nodded before leaning forward, a comfortable space away. “I'd like to get your vitals, if that's okay?” At Sam's nod First Aid ran through his checklist, asking questions before he attached a PulseOx and took a reading of Sam's glucose levels. First Aid frowned at the machine when it displayed its reading. 

Sam made an enquiring noise and First Aid sighed. “When I went to town I purchased this glucose meter because I don't have a functional one right now without my sensors. My scanners is more than capable of measuring in every other situation, but with needs as they must we make due with what we have. This brand was highly recommended and well reviewed, which is why I purchased it. This one though, it's pinging readings that are...unexpected.”

“Could be faulty.” Sam theorized.

Giving Sam an exasperated look, he sighed as he nodded. “I thought so too, but I was getting accurate readings with the other personnel I tested it on when I was exploring that theory.” He grumbled. “Until I can get a real scan it is, unfortunately, a mystery. I don't know how your medical staff persisted before the advent of this more modern medical technology.”

Sam winced. “And may you never learn. It's, uh, not good.” 

First Aid tilted his head and Sam realized the medic might have learned human medicine, he hadn't learned human medical history. Adjusting in the bed again, he pillowed his head on his hand. “All of our medicine was discovered through experimentation and theory. If you got hurt? You had to deal with dirt, infection, and sometimes social ostracization before you recovered, if you recovered. They used to treat seizures with wood ash and goats blood.” He snorted.

First Aids eye brow shot up at that. “I don't imagine that that improved the situation appreciably.”

“No, not particularly. You know about the placebo effect though, sometimes just thinking you're doing better helps the symptoms even if the treatment doesn't. We're more sophisticated now, but it's still pretty rudimentary to what you can accomplish. I mean, I've seen someone who was just a spark chamber survive and get rebuilt. That's miracles right there.” He explained around a yawn.

“Primus, just a spark chamber?” First Aid stated squeamishly.

Sam raised a pinched finger, “And a few lines up to the mechs helm. It was torture. It was supposed to be grisly.” He grumbled. He perked a little, “Is Ambulon still around?”

The non-sequitur, for First Aid anyway, caused the holoform to give Sam a look before letting it go. “Yes. He's stationed on Iota Supreme doing colony rounds.”

Sam hummed, “Good, it didn't happen here then.” He fought another yawn, closing his eyes again.

First Aid was quiet for a protracted moment. “I suppose it's a silly question, from what we've discussed today, but is it weird to know you see alternative timelines as well as ours?”

Snorting, Sam smiled a little sardonically. “Still not sure if I'm seeing this one. I think I can tell the difference, most of the time - the alternatives are less clear, mistier? The more remote it is as a possibility the harder it is to grasp, and the context is pft.” He gestured in a wavey way over his head. “But those still come out clear as crystal sometimes; usually when it's awful, mostly death related.” He frowned.

“Well that is pretty terrible.” First Aid sympathized. 

Making a tired noise of assent, Sam continued. “I used to think a lot about it, not a lot to think about otherwise sometimes. There's this thing with humans, they say when we're dying we see our lives flash before our eyes. I think, when a mech dies, their last moments are particularly clear. I think wherever the memories come from is influenced by that, that that pushes past the barrier better.” He theorized. “But I don't even know if it's real here all the time. I just had a lot of time to think about stuff. Probably too much.” He finished lamely. 

They stayed quietly with their thoughts for a little while, Sam warm and comfortable, First Aid thoughtful before the holoform shifted in his seat. 

“Have you ever read ::The Ballad of RoadHugger::?” The holoform asked.

Frowning, Sam peeled his eyes open to blink at the medic. “No, I don't think I have. What's it about?” He asked before letting his eyes fall closed once more.

Leaning back in the chair, causing it to creak quietly from the shift in weight, First Aid folded his hands over his stomach. “It was a favorite of mine, kind of our version of King Arthur. It's about the mech Roadhugger and his epic journey to unite Cybertron and fight off the forces of the evil Unicron.” He explained. “You're falling asleep and I understand listening to a story before bed helps restless sleepers.” 

Sam blinked his eyes open with difficulty. “That's mostly for children.” He pointed out with a chuckle. 

Giving Sam a look, he shrugged, “Research shows that it is effective for all age groups; children are just, generally speaking, the age group where it is expected however.”

Slipping his eyes closed easily, Sam conceded the point. “Will you stay tonight? In case…” he didn't finish, but First Aid understood what he meant. 

“Yes, Sam, I'll stay tonight.” He then began to speak in a mellow, even tone of RoadHugger and his quest to unite the tribes of Cybertron.

Sam was asleep within 5 minutes and his nightmares never grew more than a furrow in his brow that night.

Come morning, Sam woke with the sun. He blinked awake from his sleep, blessedly dream free, and muzzily glanced over at First Aid who sat next to him, a new book in his lap.

“You slept close to 9 hours with only mild interruption.” First Aid noted, not looking up from Spires in the Night. “I think, for right now, this is proving to be an effective solution to the night terrors.” 

Grunting, Sam snuggled into his blankets again and yawned. “How many…?” 

“About 6, one could have been just excited dreaming but I wanted to err on the side of caution.” Sam nodded, pulling the blankets tighter around him. “It was better than the night before when you had 10 interruption events. Do you know how many you usually have?”

Rubbing his cheek against the pillow, Sam shrugged. “Not really. I know I sleep through them sometimes.” He blinked at the medic who was still reading. “When I had others around they said I had them multiple times a night, but I'm not sure now. That was like, 30 plus years ago.”

Giving Sam a sympathetic look, First Aid closed his book and set it on the table. “Is it alright if I check your vitals?”

Sam nodded, sticking one hand out of the covers into the only slightly chilly air. First Aid must have stocked the fire during the evening for it not to be freezing. 

Doing his assessment, First Aid frowned at the manual glucose reader. “Still low.” He muttered. “Most conditions that manifest in consistent low blood sugar are easily identified with blood tests, but you didn't register as having any of the ones I can test for.” He admitted consideringly. Sub-spacing another glucose pouch, he opened it and handed it to Sam. 

Adjusting himself in the bed, Sam took the pouch and carefully sucked the contents out. The goopy sugar texture wasn't any worse than a Gogurt, luckily, so while it wasn't the most pleasant experience first thing in the morning it also could have been much worse. 

“When you're dressed, Lennox would like you to join him and Epps for breakfast.” The mech explained as Sam finished the small pouch. “Skids made additional corrections overnight, but has argued that your specific skill set might be helpful for the next round of tests.”

Sam nodded, reluctant to leave the bed but finding no acceptable alternative at this point to doing so without coming off as either petulant or belligerent, ceding that a day in bed wasn't in his future.

First Aid, seeing this, disappeared in a fractal of blue light, his operation and message delivery both a success. 

Sam stayed in bed for a couple more minutes before throwing the covers back and rolling out of the comfort there. He stumbled to the bathroom and washed the sleep off, brushed his teeth and then padded back into the bedroom. Throwing the sleep pants on the end of the bed, he got dressed and ran a hand through his hair, pulling a face at the frazzled, messy curls he felt there. Nothing a hat couldn't fix.

Stepping into the main room, Sam noted that it was empty and quiet, though he could see that his front yard was just as hectic as he'd come to expect in the last day or so. Going to the fridge to grab a bottle of water, he instead stood in stunned silence at the packed compartment. It'd been basically empty last time he looked…

Oh no, Dave the Delivery Dude would have stopped by yesterday and seen…seen. 

Rubbing his hand on his face, Sam grabbed a bottle of water that Sideswipe must have bought. It was in a glass container as opposed to one of the corn derived plastic ones he usually got, and when Sam sipped it tasted…minerally. Not bubbly, but like it had glanced at rocks before being bottled up.

Weird. 

Setting the bottle back in the fridge, Sam grabbed a hat off the hook and his jacket and stepped out into the brisk morning air. The SUVs were parked at the turnout again and Sam scowled at the spot, knowing he was going to spend probably too much time there in the very near future. Just as he was about to hop down the steps he heard a “Hey!” from the side and glanced as Steeljaw's holoform appeared. His appearance was the same as it had the day prior.

Smiling ruefully, Sam waved. “Hey, did you like the book?” He asked, shoving his hands into his pockets and leaning back on his heels.

The holoform grinned and caught the book as it fell out from subspace above his extended hand. “I did. I feel like I'm missing context, even for a human novel, though.” He admitted.

Wincing good-naturedly, Sam nodded. “Yeah, I sometimes forget how different human things are, even from generation to generation. The author, he'd have been about my grandpa's age, and there were certain things that really only made sense if you were there in the cultural zeitgeist for it. I have a companion reader, somewhere…or I did. I left a lot of stuff when I moved out here, I kind of forget what sometimes.” Sam mused. “I can see if I can find it, if you'd like?”

Steeljaw waved his hands, “Not unless it's readily available. I would take advantage of your offer for the sequel, however.” He said, walking towards the porch steps. 

Meeting him on the porch, Sam took the offered book from his hand and walked back inside. The bookshelves were overflowing but he knew where to find the second volume even in the mess. It was not the easiest place to get to though, so he had to crouch down and shove aside EarthSea to get to the other volumes. 

“Nice place, very…homey.” Steeljaw offered, and Sam cut a glance over to see the holoform had materialized through the closed door.

Shrugging, Sam managed to extricate the book and place the first Dune volume back with its brethren. “It's fine. I bought it for the other amenities than the aesthetic.” He admitted vaguely. 

Sam knew that Steeljaw was…casing? Testing? Pushing definitely, to see what boundaries he could manipulate. It was in his nature. Sam knew that even at his most laid back that the mech was always looking for the next weakness to exploit. 

While browsing the section he frowned when he couldn't find the reading companion on his shelf. Must have left it in his haste to move. 

Standing up, Sam bent and dusted off his knees before turning to the holoform who was looking at his ‘office’ area curiously. Walking over, Sam handed the novel over.

“I don't believe that I've ever seen one of these before.” Steeljaw said, frowning at the typewriter curiously.

Sam glanced at the black machine fondly. “It's a bit of an antique. No one really uses typewriters anymore, but I like the feel when I'm writing. This is a nice one, though; it's a Royal ‘A’ Deluxe. Has a bunch of features I never use but it's easy on the wrists so I don't get a repetitive strain injury when I'm really in a flow.” He explained.

Giving the mech a little grin he pointed at the keys, “They're why letters are in kind of a bonkers order on most English using technology, if you typed with keys in a standard order the arms are very likely to run into each other and get caught while you're working.” He illustrated by pressing the ‘g’ and ‘h’ at the same time and the arms locked together. Using his finger to release them he gave Steeljaw a bit of an impish grin. “It's like why train cars are the width they are: train tracks are the standard width of the distance between cart wheels and they just carried over even though trains didn't have the same mechanical restrictions as carts. People were so used to that as standard they selected a less functional option for a more familiar one.” He explained.

Steeljaw laughed, his face a bit charmed. “Human idiosyncrasies are…puzzling, but amusing.” 

Sam tapped the book now in the holoforms hand. “Looks like I didn't bring the reader with me, so you'll have to wait until you have a signal to look it up.” He apologized.

Steeljaws expression didn't close, but it lost some of its levity. “Which will be soon, I understand.”

Sam frowned, turning his face away and stepped back from the desk. “Yeah, that's what I understand too.”

Nodding, the Mechanimal looked out the windows of the house. “Seems unfair to barge into your life and just upend it like this.” He said quietly.

Barking a laugh, Sam shook his head. “If they weren't upending my life out of nowhere it wouldn't really be on brand for them.” He chuckled in amusement. “I'm kind of used to it by now.”

Turning his head to regard Sam, Steeljaw assessed him with yellow tinged brown eyes. “They did it, in your world.”

Ah, there it was. Dog with a bone, offense intended.

Sam, instead of closing down, denying or agreeing, just stepped further back towards the door with his hands behind his back and a smile. “I'm grabbing breakfast, let me know if you like this one or if you'd like to read a different series, I have dozens.” He waved with a flourish before opening the door and gesturing the Mechanimal out.

Instead of frustrated or annoyed, Steeljaws expression became genuinely amused as he tipped his head in acknowledgement of another player in the game, preceding the human onto the porch before forgoing the stairs to hop straight off the deck and to the ground near his actual body as the deck, while charming, lacked any railings. “I will. I look forward to any recommendations you may have.” Before leaning back against his own alt-form and thumbing open the book.

Shaking his head, Sam descended the stairs and made it across to the Mess tent where Epps and Will were mostly finished with their own breakfast but were discussing something with a black suited agent at the popup picnic table that they were sitting at. 

There were warming containers on a back table so Sam grabbed a tray and filled it with an array of proteins and toast before grabbing a milk carton and silverware and joining the table. While he'd been collecting food, the agent had departed and Sam sat in their seat.

“Morning Sam, sleep well?” Will asked. 

Nodding, Sam started working on the eggs and salsa he'd gotten. “Yeah. First Aid kept waking me up before the nightmares, so, you know, I'm not waking anyone else up.” He admitted. “Not my favorite but I'm sleeping better, I think.” Will and Epps both nodded in sympathy. 

Will tipped his head towards the tent entrance. “I’m sure First Aid already mentioned it but I'd like for you to assist Skids with the prototype this morning. We're working on a reduced timeline.” He frowned, but did not elaborate.

Frowning at the General with a piece of bacon partially in his mouth, Sam tilted his head. “What? Why?”

Epps gave an annoyed look at his coffee, like it was responsible for the issue. “People have started noticing us. We've got some intel that one of the groups we're keeping an eye on is activating their interests.” He looked at Sam plainly, “And rumors of others.”

Staring at the two of them, Sam set the rest of the bacon down. “How soon?” He asked trepidatiously.

Will's look was direct but not unsympathetic, “No later than mid day tomorrow.” He admitted.

Sitting in stunned silence, Sam stared from one to the other before sitting back. “That's…really soon.” Was all he could finally say.

Epps nodded, “I know it's not what you want to hear, but we don't want to have to say it, either. Wish we could make this easier for you.” 

Shaking his head, Sam poked at his eggs. “'If wishes were fishes I could walk from here to China.'” He quoted, stabbing his eggs with much less enthusiasm than before and drawing them up and to his mouth.

The rest of breakfast was mostly the two generals continuing to discuss either things Sam had no clue about, including scouting operations somewhere, the logistics of the move from Sam's cabin, and what was being done at base. Sam wasn't paying attention. 

Tomorrow? Tomorrow tomorrow? But…he wasn't ready. It was too soon! 

Finally the eggs tasting like ash in his mouth couldn't be overlooked any longer and Sam drank his carton of milk, like a child, before standing and taking his tray to be dumped and cleaned without even a backward glance at the two men. He felt…dazed. He wandered back towards the R&D tent with the same energy and blinked in surprise at Skids and Mudflap pidgin speaking to each other while Skids fiddled with something on the helmet, which looked markedly different than it had last night. 

The two looked up at his entrance, smiling at him. “Yooo, Sammy!” Mudflap waved. 

Sam waved back before walking to a chair and sitting down with a soft thump. The two, picking up on his mood, frowned. Skids leaned over, catching Sam's listless eyes. “Hey man, you good?”

Looking away from Skids and instead around the room at the equipment, Sam shrugged. “Lennox said we're leaving tomorrow.” He said helplessly.

While Sam could see the happy and relieved expression on Mudflap’s face in his periphery, he quickly schooled it seeing Sam's far less enthusiastic demeanor. Skids looked both sympathetic and relieved. 

Skids nodded, “I know you're not feeling it, but give it a chance. The base is great. It's nice and big, sun, beaches, babes, and too many bots to count.” He enthused. “It's gonna be a transition, but you'll like it once you settle in.” 

Sam stuffed his chilling hands into his pockets. “I’m not…really great. With people.” He mumbled. “I’m gonna be weird.”

Mudflap laughed, “Sammy, ain't none of us normal. Closest we get is, like, First Aid and you get on with him great.” He shrugged. “Normal’s overrated in this mechs o-pin-yon.” He enunciated aggressively.

Skids nodded, “‘sides, we seen what passes for ‘normal’ and honestly? Not impressed. Be a lil weird.” He tapped the table. “We getchu. Ain't like we got room to judge.” 

It was…not the pep talk he was expecting, but it might be the one he deserved. He glanced over at the two brothers who gave him reassuring looks. “We’ll see.”

Skids laughed, “Aye, bet.” He nodded, before turning to the helmet. “Now I got a real assistant, don't need you no more Muds. Git.” He waved the holoform to the door.

Mudflap grabbed his chest and looked offended. “You don't gotta be like that, I'm your brother. The other half of your spark.” He defended himself with gusto.

“You're also a pain in my aft. Go look at rocks.” Skids dismissed with a sniff.

Mudflap stuck his tongue out at his brother, “Fine, I will. Don't come crawlin’ to me when you bored with your doohickey, fun rocks are all fer me.” He snarked. Turning to Sam he rolled his eyes, “Thinks he's in charge cuz I split off. You can come see my fun rocks.” He allowed obnoxiously before throwing a set of middle fingers at Skids and backing out of the room.

Sam was amused by their antics, rubbing at his mouth to hide his smile before glancing at Skids. “Fun rocks?”

Skids nodded, picking up the helmet and orienting it better for Sam to look at. “Yep. There's a lotta Energon compounds in the valley, some real Energon too.” He explained, waving Sam over. “Unrefined, but beautiful.” 

Sam frowned, looking at the tent flap before scooting closer to Skids and looking the helmet over. “Really? I don't think I've ever noticed it.”

Skids shook his head, “Unless you popping rocks open you wouldn't. The geologists know what they looking for but to me a rock look like a rock. Muds likes it though, he's a regular rock hound. They been all over the valley looking at rocks and in caves and who knows what else.” He shrugged. “I wanted to ask you ‘bout…” and that's how Sam spent the morning going over the helmet with Skids.

While the knowledge for the nullifiers might have been over 20+ years old, it was fresh as day one when he started fiddling with the helmet. Once Skids explained the analogous structures Sam kind of got lost in the flow of work, picking up tools and adjusting things as he saw fit. He had to change a series of dependent connections because the relay point that Skids had selected, which should have handled the amps, Sam was pretty sure the orientation of the solder was interfering with electron flow volume. Eventually Skids was just sitting back and handing Sam tools as requested as Sam really dug in. The only thing he wouldn't hand over was the micro heat filament for the board work because Sam, having human eyes, wouldn't be able to see what he was doing.

Sam frowned at him. “I've done this before.”

Nodding, Skids still held it out of reach, “I know, I seen your boards and they messy AF. Tell me what to do and I make a clean solder for you.” He reasoned.

Rolling his eyes in exasperation, Sam realized it'd take more time to argue and he'd still lose so making an aggrieved noise he reluctantly nodded. The process took a few minutes and Sam had to squint at the board with a magnifying glass afterwards before he was finally satisfied with it. 

Skids, if anything, looked delighted to have Sam onboard and playing with him in the lab. He wasn't upset that Sam was making adjustments without consult, more looking intrigued at the process. Finally, a couple of hours later, Sam looked the helmet over with a critical eye and then set it down, the compulsion that had taken him over satiated finally. 

It was only then that he realized how hungry he was. Pressing a hand to his stomach he frowned, feeling the hollow pit there.

“Man, this really works up an appetite.” He declared in wonder and annoyance. 

Skids was looking the helmet over, making thoughtful sounds and chuckling at certain choices. “Oh, yeah, it's been a bit. You get lunch, I gotta do some QA here before we take this puppy for a ride.”

Chapter Text

Nodding, Sam lurched to his feet, hips and knees stiff as stones. He'd ignored the cold during his hyper-fixation on the nullification helmet but this tent was markedly colder than the command center as it didn't have a heater like the command center tent had or like his house did, meaning he'd been vulnerable to the chill for hours by this point. He'd been so distracted he hadn't noticed just how cold the lower half of his body had become, the chill like lead in his bones. Stumbling through the tent flap he hissed at the bright sunlight that had cut through the gray morning, raising a hand to block it out. 

“Watch it, Sam!” A man's voice called and Sam pivoted out of the way as Sideswipe’s holoform walked by with a truly impressive amount of steel boxes in his arms as he made for the ‘rock’ tent. “Hot stuff coming through!” He finished as he rounded the tent and disappeared with the containers out of sight.

Rubbing his face, feeling the shakes coming on harder than normal, Sam made his way to the mess tent. Lunch was about ready, but nothing was really sugar forward other than the cooler of cold sodas and Sam could feel a cold sweat beginning to bead at his brow. Grabbing a tray and whatever was available, not particularly discerning, he then left the tent and stumbled his way the short distance up the incline to First Aid.

“Hey, First Aid, can I get one of those glucose things?” He asked desperately as he finally reached the medic, feeling fainter with each step he took.

First Aid's hard light avatar appeared in a shock of blue static a few paces in front of him, taking Sam's tray with the grace of an experienced waiter before dropping a glucose pack into Sam's hands. “Come sit down for a minute before you open that, I want to get a glucose reading on you first.” Came the holoforms concerned voice, the mech's holographic face looking even more worried than his voice belied.

Jerkily nodding, Sam let First Aid help him into his patient compartment and onto the gurney with one hand, the door closing tight behind them, lights and heater kicking on with a low buzz. First Aid set the tray on nothing in his cab, yet it remained floating as he also sat on nothing, pulling out the glucose meter and placing it against the skin of one of Sam's icy cold white fingers. Sam was not so secretly glad that these things didn't need to actually draw blood anymore with how often his glucose levels were being checked. 

“Whew, that is low.” First Aid muttered, eyebrows creased in escalating concern before reaching forward and opening the glucose pack for Sam. “I thought you were sitting with Skids this morning.” He gave a censuring look.

Sucking down the sweet goop, Sam gave First Aid an exasperated eye roll, swallowing the thick syrup. “I was! I did! I mean, I didn't stuff myself at breakfast but I ate eggs and toast and milk, I didn't starve myself. I felt fine until I stopped...you know, helping. I kind of got in 'the zone'.” He groused in annoyance at the situation. 

First Aid's expression tightened in obvious thought and no small amount of concern before pressed his hand against Sam's forehead. “For some reason that doesn't surprise me. You're a few degrees cooler than I'd like too.” He added with a frown. “Let's keep you in here to warm up a bit. I really don't like your stats right now. I'm going to grab you some hot chocolate to speed up the process too.” Before handing Sam his tray and disappearing. 

Pulling his legs up to sit cross legged on the more comfortable than it looked gurney, Sam shifted back to lean against the ambulance's wall so he was more comfortable as he finally looked at his meal. Prepackaged sandwich, a grab bag of nuts and trail mix, another bag of dried pit fruits, and a final bag of soy protein jerky. Not the worst he could have grabbed. He didn't even mind the soy jerky. It used to be a nightmare of texture but the current stuff wasn't too bad. At some point they'd figured out long string protein chains and it'd improved the texture significantly. He also had a veggie drink, that he was not enthusiastic about. 

Sam was glad there was hot chocolate apparently in his future.

He was part way through his meal and entirely done with his glucose pack when First Aid's holoform joined him again, the ambulance giving a soft warning before the hard light solidified before him in the tight space. Pulling one of Sam's thermoses out of subspace with a mug, also Sam's, he began pouring Sam a cup of the steaming liquid. “Sorry for the delay, had to stop and speak with a few people. How're you feeling?”

Pressing his hand to his hairline where the moisture was now from normal sweat rather than the cold variety, Sam gave First Aid a thumbs up. “Better. It kind of just came on out of nowhere.” He mused.

Nodding but face still concerned, First Aid pressed a now full cup of hot chocolate into Sam's hands. “So I'm coming to understand.” He hummed. “I'm going to give you a few glucose packets just to keep on hand in case you feel shaky again unexpectedly. I'd like to keep track of how often you're using them and what activities you're doing that precede needing one.” He explained, handing Sam 3 from his subspace. “Do you remember being this shaky before we arrived?”

Waffling his hand, Sam pocketed the pouches into one of his parka pockets. “Kind of. It's usually when I'm dealing with visions, though, or like, seizures? It takes me a while to recover from those and I'm usually garbage after one anyway, just no energy. It's why I have snack bars stashed around the house, though the glucose packets work way better.” He waved his hand. “I usually stay down for a while, by the time I’m feeling well enough to get up I’m pretty hungry and pretty tired. Takes a lot out of me. But this? No, this is kind of new.”

The considerate look on First Aid’s face grew a little distant as he seemed to draw into himself to think. Sam took the opportunity to slightly burn his mouth with the thick hot cocoa which was entirely worth it. After an extended moment, First Aid shook his head. “I suppose it’s just something else to keep track of.”

Sam was warmer, and less shaky, by the time First Aid released him into the wild once more. Sam took the tray and his garbage and carried it back to the mess tent where a man in tactical pants took his tray from him, barring him from the tent interior as clean up from the greater lunch crowd and prep for dinner was underway. Sam ceded the tray without much fuss, but it did seem odd that even the garbage was barred from access during the process. 

Walking back towards R&D without much resolve to get back to work, Sam was instead distracted by the rock tent when he heard the excited talking inside. Giving the R&D tent a considering glance, he instead wandered over to the rock tent where about a dozen people who, instead of looking bummed out and annoyed like the last time he'd peeked in on them, were looking at a table full of rocks excitedly when he stuck his head in.

Most of the people were clearly agents of some variety or another but also equally as obviously involved with some kind of science given their clear familiarity with the equipment that they were using. Some were even not wearing suits, instead in dungarees and flannels, covered in streaks of mud and smears of vegetation.

Mudflap was sitting in front of some kind of device that was using light and focusing on a rock with a crystalline structure growing in the hollowed out center of it. 

“I didn't know that there were geodes on the property.” He said thoughtfully. At his voice Mudflap and another head popped up and Sam was surprised to see that Sideswipe was helping whatever everyone was doing as well. Both holoforms grinned at him, and Sam felt suddenly shy as the rest of the tent turned to look at him too, wanting to duck out of the flap he'd stuck his head through. Before he could do so though, Mudflap had joined him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and drawing him into the tent proper.

“Sam-ma-man! I knew Skids’d bore you, wanna look at cool rocks?” He asked, proceeding forward as though Sam had agreed before Sam could give that proposition any kind of consideration. 

Sideswipe stood up from where he was working a different machine and wandered over to where Mudflap was starting to show Sam around. Mudflap was tall, probably 6’2”, but somehow Sideswipe had an additional few inches on Mudflap and Sam was annoyed to discover that the blond holoform was almost a foot taller than Sam himself. It seemed unfair that he was stuck forever at 5'5" and all of the holoforms could just decide to be NBA superstar heights if they wanted.

“...and these’re the samples from, like, the ridge behind the cabin.” Mudflap said, pointing out rocks that looked like all of the other rocks. “Lotta perovskite in these suckas.” He said excitedly.

Edging a bit further away from the various machines in the room, Sam tried to figure out what he was looking at that he should be...excited? about. Seeing nothing really of note he forfeited the endeavor. Looking up at the enthusiastic twin Sam frowned in confusion. “Perovskite?”

Sideswipe was the one who nodded, reaching forward and tapping the rock in question, “Rare mineral of calcium titanate. It's got a bunch of different cations embedded in its structure, allowing the development of diverse engineered materials. It is a fundamental building block for Energon.” He explained. “Most planets don't have any, but Earth has a fair amount. This valley has a lot of it though.”

Curiously, Sam reached out and tilted the rock over to see cuboidal structures growing out of the back of it. “Oh!” He said in wonder, looking at the shiny little blocks.

Sideswipe nodded, giving Sam a grin. “They aren't the only materials we've found.” He enthused, tilting his head towards the shiny open chambered geode. “Rhodochrosite. Purest we've seen outside of Colorado.” 

“Oh, that's cool. Are they common around here?” He asked, picking up the shiny rose geode.

Mudflap shook his head, “Not that we've seen. Almost never see it this far west.” He explained.

Frowning at that, Sam tilted it to catch the light before setting it back down. The next rock was a pearlescent black with speckles of different colors embedded just below the surface. It nearly sparkled in the ambient light of the tent. It was only the size of Sam's hand, but something about it drew Sam's interest.

Reaching out to touch it, Sam drew his hand back as the rock began glowing when his palm approached it. “What is that?” He hissed, looking at the two mechs. Sideswipe started laughing, covering his mouth with his hand.

Mudflap snorted himself before reaching over and smacking Sideswipe, “Clod*.” Before turning to Sam, “Don't worry Sammy, ‘Swipe is just a Fragger. Yer kind, Spark Touched, excites inert Energon. Causes a phosphorescent reaction.” He explained, picking up the shiny stone and bringing it to Sam's hands. “Brighter the reaction, purer the Energon crystal.” Sam couldn't help but take the stone when Mudflap pressed it to his sternum and stared in wonder as it glowed brightly in his hand.

Eyes widened, Sam stared at the radiantly shining baby blue stone. “Is it…safe?” he asked, looking up at the two of them curiously. The hair on the back of his head tingled like he was generating static electricity himself holding the stone. 

Sideswipe nodded, “It’s perfectly safe when it's inert. When we refine it we have to introduce chemicals to make it liquid and those aren't particularly good for organics.” He said, tapping the stone in illustration. “If it's pink then stay away from it. If you see any purple Energon you run as far away as fast as you can and tell one of us. That's dark Energon and it's toxic to everyone.”

There was pressure in Sam's head for a moment, a memory, and he raised his hand to his forehead. “Blood of Unicron.” He muttered distractedly.

The two bots stilled unnaturally before turning to Sam in stunned shock. Mudflap's mouth dropped open, “Yooo, don't say that name.” He hissed, looking around as though the primordial God might appear. Sideswipe didn't look that much better and Sam couldn't help but snort a little.

“Superstitious?” He asked.

Both gave him gimlet eyes. “He's the unmaker.” Sideswipe hissed. 

Sam at least acknowledged that. While he didn't have direct memories of Unicron himself, he knew that the anti-Cybertronian god existed somewhere in the universe deep in his bones, though he couldn't say where the larger than life mech might be. 

Nodding, Sam looked at the glowing blue Energon over again. “Have you run into Dark Energon here? On Earth, that is.”

Mudflap sighed gustily. “No, thank Primus. Stuff spreads like plague. With how many Energon compounds are on Earth? It'd be a disaster.” He huffed. 

Sam nodded, setting the stone down finally on the table, shoving his hands into his pockets, fingering the edges of one of the glucose packs. “Skids said that you found Energon here in the valley?”

Sideswipe nodded. “It's really rare, the base compounds might be pretty common on Earth but making Energon itself is a complicated process unless your God is making it for you." He said with a wink. "That being said, we've found several deposits in the last few days around the property.”

Frowning, Sam leaned back on his heels, turning and looking around at the other agents and machines, spotting more samples all over the room, many of which were just variations of the rocks he'd just been shown. “But you said that they were rare?”

Nodding, Mudflap turned and gestured around. “Usually.” He admitted. “Except where your kind live.” At Sam's confused look he waved around at the greater valley, “The presence of Spark Touched encourage compound formations. Rapidly. Might not have been much out here before you arrived.”

Deeply frowning, Sam gazed around the tent with greater focus and then out the partially open tent flap. “But that's not how geology works. It, like, takes eons.” He declared, looking up at them. “Doesn't it?” He asked at their amused looks.

Sideswipe picked up a different rock, a normal looking one, and handed it to Sam. “Normal rock, right?” Looking down at the rock, Sam shrugged and nodded. “Right now. The minerals inside of it are rapidly reorienting, any Rhodochrosite, Perovskite, Silica, and Energon are amalgamating together at speed the longer they're in your AllSpark energy halo, or converting into one of those at a slower but still rapid rate. We expect there to be a vein of pure Energon below the cabin somewhere based on our findings.” 

Eyebrows shooting straight up, he gaped at them. “What?” 

Taking the rock from Sam, Mudflap gave Sideswipe a look and wasn't it a trip that Mudflap was the one showing restraint. “Whatever the nullifier does, it ain't slowing this phenomena. Not the most we've seen, Maggie's house had spires growing under her foundation.” He divulged with a chuckle. 

“Maggie?” Sam asked, confused. 

Sideswipe nodded, looking very fondly off at that thought. “Another of your kind. She's an Australian, she'd been living in her house for…hm, 50 years?” He glanced at Mudflap for confirmation.

Mudflap, who still had an arm wrapped around Sam, jerked his thumb up, “Nearly 60. Her house ‘s where we noticed the phenomenon.” He explained to Sam. “Rest of y'all seem to move too much to lay down roots. Since we gotchu folks in Diego Garcia though the island has Energon corals now. Wildest shit I ever seen. Beachcomber and Hound have been going nuts since they noticed.” He explained in amusement. "Imagine it'll tick up markedly in the near future." 

“Yo bolt brain, whatchu doin’ with my assistant?” Skids called through the flap, giving the two mechs a pretty impressive stink eye.

Mudflap flipped Skids off, sticking his tongue out at his brother. “Sam was bored witchu and wanted to see my shiny rocks, slag shaft. Can't say I blame him, who'd wanna spend a minute more witchu than they have to.” He sniped, wiggling his fingers at his brother. A second later he yelped, letting go of Sam and glaring at Skids, “Smelt you, we ain't s’posed to fight on site.” 

There was a distant thunk and Sam realized the twins were smacking each other in their alt-forms. “Hey, hey, woah, hold up. Staaaaahhhp.” He hissed at the two, poking Mudflap in the equivalent of the ribs.

He holoform jerked back, giving Sam a betrayed look. “You didn't start it but you don't get to keep doing it.” He admonished before raising an eyebrow at Skids, “And you know better. You're the big brother, right? You're supposed to set an example.” 

Miles' dad used to go on a similar diatribe and it had been effective to curb Miles’ brother Ted and him, and from the surprised and mildly apologetic hound dog looks on the two holoform's faces he thought it might have been at least mildly effective. Sideswipe was very carefully not reacting, but Sam could almost feel his amusement through his energy field. 

Both Skids and Mudflap folded their arms in an identical way, very pointedly not looking at each other. Sam turned to Mudflap and Sideswipe. “Thank you for showing me around the rocks, and telling me about them. It was really educational.” He nodded, both giving acknowledging nods back. Turning to Skids, Sam tilted his head. “I take it QA is done?” He wasn't thrilled by that but wasn't surprised.

Skids nodded, opening the tent flap more. “Aye. Lennox, Epps, First Aid and Cliffjumper are ready to go. Just need you, buttercup.”

Shoving his hands further into his pocket, Sam nodded. “Yeah, cool.” He said, unenthusiastically.

Mudflap patted his shoulder, “It's gonna be okay, lil cuz. Skids’ll take good care of ya.”

Giving the holoform a small smile, Sam nodded before starting towards the tent flap. Skids held it open and Sam ducked through, body language tight as he let the mech draw him through the tents and up to the drive. 

Lennox and Epps, who had been speaking to one another, quieted before smiling when they saw him arrive. The alt-forms had oriented themselves to face the exit so the testing crew were pointed towards the valley entrance and Sam gave the two humans a tight, not terribly sincere, smile as he joined them.

Epps seemed to get it because his expression was more sympathetic. “Ready to go, man?”

Instead of saying anything, Sam nodded and let Skids lead him to his alt-form. “Yer with me, Sam-ma-man, Cliffs back seat ain’t good for knees, even short ones like yers.” He teased. 

Sam flipped him the bird, “Just wait, I'll get that growth spurt yet.” He couldn't help joking back, though he knew by this point that that was only the remotest of possibilities. 

“Keep tellin’ yourself that, shorty.” The mech laughed as Sam opened the passenger door and sat in the small cab of the car.

The two Generals had already climbed into Cliffjumper and shortly after they were off. Sam watched Mudflaps reddish alt-form disappear in the distance, same as Sideswipe and Barricade. He didn't like it, for some reason, but he figured it was more that he was upset about where he was going.

“I know I saw you update the helmet.” Skids started, trying to draw Sam from his funk, causing Sam to look at the self-driving cars drivers side for lack of a specific spot to focus on, “But some of those mods were pretty surprising. You figured out the amp issue I been messing with.” He praised.

Shrugging, Sam looked back out the window. “I guess.”

Not to be deterred, Skids continued, “How'd you know?”

Tapping his thumbs on his thighs, Sam frowned, “Just…seemed like the thing to do, I guess. The orientation was wrong.” He tried to convey.

“Oh?” Skids inquired.

Tapping his foot next, Sam watched as First Aid turned off into the pull out first, transforming and moving away from the row of black government vehicles. “Yeah, it's delicate.” He muttered as Cliff pulled off next, stopping to let his passengers disembark before transforming and following First Aid further from the road.

“Alright, outta the car.” Skids announced with a small shake of his chassis as he pulled off the road himself and opened his door for Sam. Sam clicked the safety belt off and disembarked, closing the door and jogging over to where Lennox and Epps were standing, hands again in pockets to keep them warm as the sound of a transformation cog engaged behind him and Skids started his change. They were in a good sunbeam so Sam hummed happily, feeling his back warm from the thermal increase.

Lennox grinned at him. “Skids explained that you had a lot of ‘revision’ notes on the helmet. Let's see what this puppy can do now.” He joked, his easy going confidence at odds with Sam's nihilistic anxiety. 

Skids stretched and joined them, his holoform flickering to life to receive a carefully subspaced helmet with its customary battery pack.

Reluctantly taking the helmet, Sam looked it over and noted that the only additional modifications that Skids had added was a thin foam layer on the inside to make it more comfortable for the wearer. It was still a very large piece of equipment, but at least some of the migraine yesterday had been from the hard pressure of the contraption on his sensitive skull, so Sam appreciated the consideration. 

Glancing up at both versions of Skids, Sam held the helmet closer. “Thank you for making it more comfortable.” He offered, not sure how to articulate how nice it was that someone had done something so small but meaningful for him without needing to.

Skids smiled widely in both forms. “‘Course, Sam.” He acknowledged before pulling Sam's hat off his head, tucking it under an armpit before he took the helmet and carefully fit it on Sam's head. Handing Sam his hat back, Skids set about making small adjustments as his mech form went back outside the dead zone to make scans and collect data. As the SUVs were now where Cliffjumper had stood the evening prior, the mech elected to stand on the other side of the lines this time. 

When Skids was happy with how the helmet was sitting, he nodded to the others as they took up positions around them. Turning to Sam he bent a little. "Feel okay?" He sought to confirm. Tilting his head from side to side then forward and back Sam had no new complaints so gave the taller holoform a nervous thumbs up, not really feeling up to talking at the moment. Skids nodded easily, clasping Sam on the shoulder with a faint squeeze before he stepped back and Sam had no more distractions.

Epps joining them was the only difference otherwise, and Sam looked back at First Aid to reassure himself that the medic was there before making his way with the human sized forms to the starting line.

“Remember: you feel a signal, you give a signal.” The holoform repeated and Sam took a deep breath in and slowly exhaled it before nodding. Skids' holoform looked him over again before nodding and giving Cliffjumper a thumbs up.

‘Just have to walk.’ Sam reassured himself. ‘You do this every day.’ 

The first step was the worst, but when nothing happened Sam put another foot in front of the other and continued forward. He passed the lines cut into the ground the day prior with trepidation but no repeat signal reoccurrence. At 50% Skids stopped him to test out different signals just to make sure they weren’t simply missing said signals from their absence to score against.

When that returned minimal response, a soft ping at most that Skids was able to manually tune down for a short wave NORAD communique line, Sam nodded and kept going.

At 90% Sam paused again. Rather than interference or tone spikes, which he was used to, he instead heard talking which caused him to frown in concentration. It was clear enough it could have been English to him.

#“::It looks like we've got a functional unit.::”# Skids was saying, his Cybertronian voice accent free in NeoCybex. #“::Sam[Sparkling][Spark Touched] is just about out of the field without issue.::”# 

There was another voice, deeper, that responded. #“::Good. We've got chatter to the east that has Red Alert[Director][Security] running scenarios.::”# The voice said.

“Sam?” Holoform Skids asked. “You good?”

Face still set in a frown, Sam raised his hands and blew into them to warm the cold distal extremities. “I think I can hear you? Red Alert is upset? Is that…” Sam frowned, the voice was familiar, “Is that Ultra Magnus?” He asked curiously. 

Skids turned to look at him, both versions, with stunned expressions before Will stepped forward to look at Sam in surprise. Sam, feeling uncomfortable, shrugged. “I dunno, it's been a long time since I heard from him. I mean, not that I've actually ever talked to him or anything. I know what he sounds like, though from like memories, but there's like, thousands of them in here--” he gestured at his helmet clad head, “--so I’m not sure.”

#“::We have a friendly eavesdropper, Ultra Magnus[Commander]. I'll ping later.::”# Skids alerted back and then the signal disappeared. His larger mech version knelt down and held out his servo. “Well, ain't exactly what I was expectin’, but shoulda been.” He laughed, and Sam reached the outer edge of the field with nary more than a faint buzz of signal. “Pings are signals, same as any other. Though that was not, strictly speakin’, an open channel.” He explained with a considering look. 

Cliffjumper and First Aid walked over, Cliffjumpers expression equal parts concerned and intrigued. “It wasn't exactly secure, either.” He mused, squatting down with ease. At about 20’ tall Cliffjumper was about twice the height of Skids but crouched he was about the same height as the kneeling mech. “And you understood them?” Sam only nodded. “Well, we might want to tamper that signal down as well. No offense, Sam, but that network has some need to know information on it that you don't need to know.”

Big hands moved the helmet such that Skids holoform could make adjustments as needed, “I'm gonna ping Cliffjumper, let me know when you stop hearing it, 'kay?” The researcher confirmed with Sam.

Skids communique, when it came through, was a recording of a ballad actually. Skids was sending the Ballad of Rustsea, an epic poem that Sam had heard on more than one occasion from homesick soldiers stuck in distant posts, dreaming of returning home...though so many never would. 

Beneath Cybertron's metallic sky, Where Autobots stand, never say die. A ballad echoes through circuits and gears, A tale of battles, triumphs, and tears.

In the heart of war, on the rusted shore, Autobot soldiers, valiant and more. With sparks of courage, they rise and fight, For Cybertron's freedom, day and night.

Through the echoes of battles, the clang of steel, Autobots forge ahead, an unyielding zeal. In the rust sea's reflection, stories unfold, Of heroes circuits, brave and bold.

As the rust sea whispers tales of strife, Autobots march on, embracing AllSparks life. In the core of Cybertron, where destiny lies, A soldier's ballad under rusted skies.

Sam didn't realize he'd closed his eyes and was repeating the ballad in English until it was done and the silence in its wake caused him to remember where he was. Blinking his slightly bleary eyes open once more, Sam looked around in confusion, seeing the two Skids' looking at him in surprise and no small amount of grief, longing. The holoform had stopped making adjustments long before Sam had finished and Cliffjumper had been so surprised he hadn't interrupted Sam's recitation either, hadn't even pressed Skids to continue. 

“That was beautiful, Sam.” First Aid said quietly from the side. Tilting his head up to look at the tall mech, the only one at his full height, Sam shrugged in embarrassment. 

The attention was suddenly overwhelming, his mood swinging to ‘too much’ suddenly. “I want to stop now.” He said instead, looking at the ground.

Skids stepped back but rather than stop he bent to catch Sam's eye. “Two minutes and you good. I didn't finish, I'll choose somethin’ a little more boring, huh?” Sam wanted it to be over, but nodded anyway knowing that arguing would just elongate the process, and within a minute of adjustment Sam couldn't hear the recipe for Rust Sticks anymore.

“It's gone, now.” Sam announced, eager to retreat back into the null field and to safety. 

Smiling, Skids the holoform stepped back before nodding. “Schway*. I think we good here.” He announced. 

First Aid made his way over then, his holoform coming to life before them as he looked the apparatus and Sam over before taking Sam's arm and drawing him a bit away. “Just another minute, Sam. Have you ever received a medical scan?”

Feeling uncomfortable, Sam nodded. “Yeah, Ratchet gave me one. Well, a few.” He frowned. “Please don't say anything about pheromones.” He begged the medic, suddenly horrified.

Quirking his head to the side, First Aid then shook it off. “I am aware that certain pieces of information are considered personal, Sam.” He smiled ruefully. “I only asked because some people find that they experience a tingly sensation with a medical scan. I wanted to forewarn you.”

Brows rising, Sam donned a look of comprehension. “Oh. Um, not that I remember.”

With a confident gaze, First Aid turned Sam to his larger body. “I'm going to perform a series of scans, more in depth than the usual ones as we are expecting unusual results and because you're wearing compromising equipment.” He explained. “Each scan is going to be slightly different so don't be surprised if you feel a little tingly this time.”

Sam nodded, holding still with his arms partially out to allow First Aid to have the easiest body to scan. The medic nodded and then the scanner popped out of his shoulder and Sam breathed through his nose as the scans began. They did tingle, and caused a small amount of interference with the helmet, but only for a split second. There were about 5 of them in total, before First Aid knelt down with a look of confusion and mild alarm.

Sam immediately feared the worst. “Cancer?” He squeaked.

Seeing how scared Sam suddenly was, First Aid quickly schooled his expression. “Luckily, no. No cancer. A host of other things, but…” he glanced at the other Cybertronians, “...you have an advanced matrix of protoform microfilaments networking through your body.” He explained calmly. 

Sam stiffened, clutching the battery in his hands tighter. “What?” 

Looking towards Epps and Lennox, the medic waved them closer. “Easy, Sam. You're alright.” He said gently, the holoform stepping closer and set his hand on Sam’s shoulder in reassurance. “We’ve seen a similar phenomena with our other Spark Touched…just nowhere near as extensive as yours.” he reassured Sam. “Both Epps and Lennox have small networks. The AllSpark energy is more easily conducted through it, but it's your bodies that are growing the filaments. It's only minorly enhancing, like a second nervous system. I was expecting to see something like it but…well, quite a bit less advanced honestly.”

Feeling unnerved, Sam clutched the battery closer as he suddenly felt surrounded. “I want to go home now. Please. I just want to go home.” He begged, the overwhelmed feeling increasing exponentially. It felt like doom casting a long, dark shadow over him the longer he stood there.

There was a pause and then Skids was standing there, drawing his attention from the cloud of despair that had suddenly taken him. “Yeah, man, sure. Let's get you back in and take the helmet off, cool?” He asked gently and Sam jerkily nodded, turning and power walking quickly to where the lines started. Once there he started pulling at the helmets straps, wanting it off, get it off, when hands were helping him and he made a truly frustrated, aggrieved noise. “Woah, okay, big feelings there, huh?” Came Skids mellowed voice, treating him like he was spooking. “Lemme help.” Before finally Sam was free and he retreated a few steps, feeling tight everywhere.

“He's panicking.” Someone said lowly behind him and he jerked further away, wrapping his arms tight around himself, trying to hold himself together. The doom sensation was shifting to feeling like he was going to shake apart at any moment. 

He was. He was panicking and he could feel a cascade starting for a really impressive panic attack. Pressing his hands to his chest, he tried to get air into his lungs but there suddenly wasn't any air at all to be had. Sam made a pathetic wheezy whine when he realized that in about half a minute he was going to black out. "'elp." He managed to force through his tightened trachea.

“Ho, shit.” Epps muttered as he and Lennox were at Sam's sides, each taking an elbow as Sam started staggering, trying to get on the ground like he knew he needed so that he didn't injure himself in the fall that he was inevitably going to take. 

He was on the ground. When'd he get there? Was he there before? He didn't remember. Above him, he could make out First Aid's concerned face, mouth moving but Sam couldn't make out what was being said over the thundering of blood in his ears. His eyes couldn't seem to focus and Sam's last functioning brain cell stilled to realize that the panic attack was about to trigger a seizure. 

‘Oh no.’ Was his last thought before his world rapidly darkened. 

Chapter Text

Iacon was stunning.

Its golden towers, the massive civic projects that had made the city the jewel of the Cybertronian empire. There were statues of historical figures on platforms throughout the city: the original Primes, Alpha Trion, philosophers, thespians, engineers, daredevils and many more. Those who could be held on high to inspire those below. They exemplified the best and the brightest, a tangible representation of the greatness of the city around them.

Or, it had been. The jewel of the Cybertronian empire had become the last bastion of the Autobot cause, and the Autobot stronghold was about to fall.

Trines of Seekers pelted the grounded Autobot and Decepticon forces alike with volleys of munitions that even their toughened hides couldn't withstand. Sam threw an arm up and averted his face as where he was standing became splattered with a wave of Energon from an unfortunate mech who had been in the path of such an impressive barrage. The Decepticon or Autobot, it was impossible to tell at this point, was hit in such a way that he simply exploded into pieces around Sam. Unable, as always, to do anything meaningful, Sam knelt next to the helm of the poor mech and pressed his hand to the flickering optics. He was as surprised with the size of these beings as he always was, this mech's helm being at least 20% larger than he himself was, but didn't let it affect him as he knelt before the mech.

“You're okay. It's just time to go home.” He whispered, like he had untold times before to other unfortunate beings who had had their lives cut far too short, far too quickly. The fritzing of the helm slowed, seeming to relax, before Sam knew it the mechs spark extinguished. The optics faded out a moment later and the living metal nanites that all Cybertronians bore on their external components shifted in a slow wave from green and white to a solid matte gray as they lost power and their internal systems failed and faded. 

Though unfortunately quite familiar by now it was still a heartbreaking process every time, one that Sam stood grim sentinel to like he had so many others.

Once the process completed he found himself pulled from the spot like one is in a dream. Sam discovered himself observing the Central Tower, the Autobots' seat of power, as the Decticons pushed their advantage. Sam could see Prowl, Elita-1, Wheeljack and others as they fired on the approaching forces from far too little cover and far too little firepower.

Looking around, Sam knew that the Autobots couldn't win, irrespective of already knowing the outcome of the battle that day. There were simply too few Autobots and too many Decepticons for anything but a exceptional loss. Even with a Prime, even in their own territory, Sam had seen enough war to know how this would end. Optimus made an impressive showing, leaping through the air and taking out half a dozen Decepticons in one insanely beautiful if complicated showing of martial skill but he was only one mech, and Sam knew intimately that this powerhouse was not invincible; Optimus Prime bled, felt pain and died just the same as anyone else.

Sam stepped out of the way of Wheeljack as the mech staggered to another defensive point, though he knew that nothing could harm him in this nightmare scape, as Optimus rumbled something. From a distance there was more firing and Sam turned in that same dreamy way of his in this place to see a Seeker fall from on high, ridden down by a much smaller mech.

A much smaller yellow mech.

“Bumblebee?” Sam asked in his non-voice, too far to hear what the mech, no, what Bumblebee said to Optimus as Bee crushed the Seeker under himself before he transformed and joined his leader, taking out a sneaking Decepticon with a punt from a conveniently placed helm. Sam was always at the mercy of where the vision wanted him, but he still fought like hell to get closer to the two. It was like forcing his way through cold molasses, but soon enough it was not a problem. They'd joined him...or he had joined them.

He appeared at the top of the tower, the launchpad for the escape pods, as Optimus announced the fall of Iacon. Sam felt his heart clench. He'd never seen this specific moment, not from this perspective; he just knew that the fall of Iacon was the darkest hour of the Autobot cause as they lost their last foothold on their home world. Seeing the mere dozens of Autobots left to seek escape from the advancing forces reminded Sam how bleak it truly was for them at this point.

So many gone. 

Sam watched as Bumblebee pushed one final time, “Optimus, this is our home! We have to fight for it!”

Sam's heart clenched at that voice, the one he'd only gotten glimpses of in their time together. It had been stolen, he'd been told, after the battle of Tyger Pax that launched the AllSpark into Space. Or it had in his world. The fall of Iacon was after the loss of the AllSpark, wasn't it?

The idiosyncrasy pulled at him as he watched Optimus give Bumblebee his last direct order, to go to Earth and to set up a forward base there, before the two parted ways. Sam could see the Seekers high above them, the stunningly beautiful display of aerobatics as they moved as one to drop a final volley of stunningly powerful munitions around the Autobots launch platform.

The bombs blew the support columns wide open far below and Sam watched first Bumblebee, then Optimus launch into the stars as the tower's base crumbled under the massive weight of the building and launchpads high above. Sam jerked to stay vertical, catching himself on rubble and bodies as he watched first Prime and his own best friend make their escape.

The knowledge that had he really been in this place, this time, his death would be assured was a distant and meaningless awareness. He glanced around, seeing the dead and dying Cybertronians littering the pathway shift at the change of the angle of the platform tumbled them to one side, and couldn't help but wonder detachedly which one of their memories he was walking.

His attention was drawn upward however when something not right caught his eye.

They’d all made it out of the atmosphere. Or, it looked like they had until there was a burst of blue light. Following the brighter than starburst flare high above, Sam made out the disaster happening before him. Bumblebee’s pod had struck a high flying Seeker, the momentum carrying him through the larger mech's frame in a hail of shrapnel and Energon, but it also stole the necessary momentum to carry the yellow scout up and into the safety of space.

Watching as the black pod slowed far too low in the sky to assure escape, even as the tower fell around him, Sam couldn't look away as the speck grew larger and larger as it once more returned to Cybertron's loving grasp. “No.” Sam whispered when he saw the pod disappear behind distant destroyed towers as his own finally made impact with the ground below with a crash that thrust him out of the vision space. 

---------------

Curled up in a small ball, Sam’s first concrete thought was that he was warm and safe. Home. Not only was he home, he was comfortably burritoed up in layers of blankets in his own familiar bed. He felt sluggish, like he was drunk, his limbs barely working from how heavy they felt as he made a soft sigh and adjusted the covers up over his shoulder more comfortably.

“Back with us, Sam?” Someone asked and confused, Sam blearily blinked awake enough to see Will sitting in one of the kitchen chairs and First Aid sat in the other next to his bed, cast in the warm glow of the LED bulb like friendly specters.

The intoxicated feeling persisted and combined with the muddled cotton in Sam's brain he felt a burst of joy that caused him to giggle at them, smiling broadly. “Aid! Will! You're here.” He laughed, reaching out and grasping First Aid's hand, making a pleased sound at the solid feel of it as he pulled his palm close to rest his cheek on. “Here.” He murmured dreamily against the holoform's skin like a benediction.

Will made a noise that Sam couldn't identify, only note, as his attention shifted like smoke in a breeze. He frowned in distraction when he noticed that while he been comfortable when he hadn't been moving, he now felt so sore. Why was he so sore? It felt like he’d been thrown by Megatron again, but…Megatron was dead wasn't he? He was dead, Sam killed him by pushing the AllSpark into his spark, hadn’t he? That…sounded right, but not? Why was it wrong too?

“Sam? Sam, I know you're tired, but I need to get an assessment from you, okay?” Came First Aid's voice through the cotton fluff in his head. Utterly abandoning thoughts of nightmare fuel entirely, Sam pressed his cheek against the holoform's hand muzzily.

Humming an assent, maybe. Or just humming. Nothing felt real, it all felt like a dream but not as clear, not as concrete as his dreams usually felt. 

He knew this sensation, the answer slowly coming to him like a light in a distant tunnel. It only felt like this when…”Did I have a seizure?” He mumbled, scrunching up his face in confusion.

A hand ran through his hair and pushed it back from his face and he blinked heavy eyes up at Will and First Aid who were looking at him in concern. “Yes, while we were out finishing the prototype testing. Do you remember the testing?” First Aid prompted.

Closing his eyes again, they were so heavy, Sam frowned. “Prototype?” He mumbled.

Will murmured something that Sam couldn't hear and First Aid quietly responded something back before turning to Sam. “Yes, the mobile nullifier prototype. You helped Skids build it. Do you remember?” Flabbergasted, Sam shook his head making a distressed noise and Will whispered something more concernedly but First Aid hummed something back quietly, shifting his attention to Sam. “What's the last thing you remember?”

“Optimus.” He mumbled, frowning. “Optimus ‘n them being forced out of Iacon. To space.” He muttered. “B’mblebee was there…his pod crashed.” Walking the memory made it all come back in perfect, horrifying clarity and caused his contentment to slip through mental fingers like sand through a sieve, confused beyond belief he could feel tears in his eyes, “Bee didn't make it off Cybertron.” He hiccuped, feeling raw as well as bruised all over suddenly.

Crying softly, everything just seemed to be too much and hurt, Sam felt himself gathered up in a warm hold and had his face tucked into the perfect darkness offered by someone's clavicle. He didn't have the energy to do more than curl up there and cry, feeling overwhelmed and so, so confused.

His vision faded almost immediately, making his mind melt trying to remember what he was trying to remember. Wasn’t Bee here? Why were First Aid and Will here and not Bee? “Bee?” He called quietly, heartbrokenly. “Where's Bee?” He begged plaintively. When there was no immediate response he grew more scared. What was going on? Everything felt so wrong. “Mom?” He called after a long moment in confusion. Where was his mom? She was supposed to be here after he had a seizure - why were Will and First Aid here but not his mom?

A hand wove through his hair and gently soothed him, “Shhhhh, shhhhh, you're okay Sammy. Take some breaths for me, okay?” Came Will's warm voice and Sam hiccuped but nodded; all he had to do was follow Will and he’d be okay - he always did because Will meant safety.

Breathing hurt, but so did everything else. He felt so exhausted that he could barely think. After a while, Sam was inhaling normally around the random sniffle. Memories were hard, thinking was hard, after an episode. It was like someone had taken the carefully laid out puzzle pieces in his mind and shaken them up, leaving him to sort out the puzzle anew every time. 

He did it so often that given a moment to calm down, to process, the chaos he felt calmed and he could start working through things. After a long minute curled up in Will's arms Sam made a distressed noise, “This was a bad one, wasn't it? All the pieces are everywhere.” He whinged, face scrunched up in adolescent annoyance. 

The hand in his hair pressed him gently but firmly into Will's shoulder more solidly but it was First Aid who responded. “You had a tonic clonic* seizure preceded by a panic attack. The whole event lasted about 5 minutes, but you've had a few subsequent episodes, not as severe but notable.” He explained. “We were able to treat you in the field; we were lucky being so close to the dead zone boundary that we were able to get some readings during your episode.” First Aid said in his calm, measured, and soothing voice. “Your episode relayed AllSpark energy throughout your microfilament network before releasing it in a burst. Do you remember any of that?”

Shaking his head, Sam curled closer to the steady warmth and comforting support that was Lennox. “No. Don't remember.” What even was First Aid talking about? AllSpark energy? Deadzone? What microfilament network?

The hand on his scalp wove its fingers through his hair and stroked his aching head, causing Sam to breathe out in relief. “The kid’s exhausted, Aid, I don't think he could tell us much of anything right now.” Will said lowly into Sam's crown. “Right Sam?”

Unable to follow the plot of the conversation, Sam just nodded against Will's shoulder. “Right.” He muttered. Honestly, he’d probably agree to anything at this point, nothing made sense. How were First Aid and Will here? Was he dreaming of them? Shouldn’t he be on the ground? This felt weird and loose and he was so overwhelmed.

“I know, buddy. It's been a tough day, huh?” Came Will's kind voice.

Sam nodded, curling closer. “Miss you, Will. Don't go. Don’t wanna be alone again.” He had been, hadn’t he? He remembered being so lonely before.

The hand in his hair tightened and Will made a soft noise against Sam's scalp. “I‘m not going anywhere Sam. You're stuck with me now, kid.”

Unable to believe him, Sam just pressed his face closer and tightened his shaking hands in the fabric of the man's jacket. His hallucinations were so real he couldn't believe that he was awake, let alone that there was anyone there with him. It wouldn't be the first time. He’d take what he could now for when he woke up alone later.

At some point Sam drifted off and was carefully laid down into the blankets again, arm with the IV port held out so that the line didn't get caught. It was only a bit after noon when they'd gone down to do the testing, but it was evening when Sam opened his eyes again. This time most of the puzzle pieces were where they should be and he could feel the few new pieces that didn’t fit anywhere yet off to the side, ready to be examined and fit somewhere in his mind sometime later. 

Blinking his eyes open, Sam looked around the quiet room for a long moment. Now that he was mostly all there, he could process a bit more. While his memories of his last awakening were disjointed, foggy, and missing in places he could remember enough to tie further back to his vision. The curse of his visions were that they were always 4k and just a thought away. It made writing easier but it made distancing himself, which was necessary so as not to keep retraumatizing his psyche, much more difficult. 

Bee never made it off-world with the others. Sam closed his eyes and pressed his hands to his face, knowing, knowing that even as feisty and as plucky as Bee was, being stuck alone on a battlefield and a planet with those kinds of odds were not in his favor. What if…?

No. Bumblebee would have found a way. Primus wouldn’t be so cruel as to do all of this and then simply take Bumblebee from him. He just…he just had to have faith, like his Mom used to tell him when everything got so hard, 'You just had to have faith that in the end everything will work out'. Somehow. It’d work out somehow. 

Please let it work out somehow. Please.

Soon though Sam had more immediately pressing needs than the existential crisis of maybe having survived his best friend's passing before they’d ever even met and clumsily rolled into a sitting position in the bed. While all of his muscles hurt from his pinky toes to his scalp like he’d run a marathon with every muscle in his body, it was so much better than it usually was. Even the ubiquitous post seizure headache was relatively mild. Looking at the IV, Sam could only conclude that whatever cocktail was in the lines was to thank for that.

Pulling the IV stand from its innocuous place next to the headboard, Sam carefully rolled it with him as he walked to the restroom. Sam had been changed into his pajamas again at some point, probably from sweating or vomiting. It wasn’t a clean condition, but at least it had never affected his waste systems. He’d take vomit over wetting himself every day of the week. Twice on Sundays.

Using the facilities, Sam washed his hands and had an idle thought that it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world right now to be able to see what the damage was. He didn’t feel physically bruised anywhere, and he remembered being helped to the ground before the fit had truly started, so it probably wasn’t as bad as it could have been. 

Leaving the bathroom found the bedroom door open but the bedroom empty. Taking the hint, Sam shuffled carefully through the door and into the great room where everyone else, a bigger crowd than the house had possibly ever hosted, were milling around. With the trusty IV stand helping a bit more with balance than he’d like to admit Sam crossed the bedroom threshold with weary eyes. All of the Cybertronians with the exception of Steeljaw were present, mostly looking like they were trying not to stare at Sam. 

Epps, beautifully human Epps, caught his eye from where he was leaning against the wall and gave Sam a small nod of acknowledgement. Sam, using the IV stand as a support, carefully made his way to his desk chair and collapsed into it, seeing everyone’s concerned looks not helping exactly with his unpleasant post episode mortification. “I'm fine, it was just a seizure.” He grumbled, forcing his long hair back with his free hand. From his vantage point he could see the concerned face of a certain wolf themed mechanimal’s avatar below. He scrubbed his face harder. “I've been dealing with these for decades, this one was just inconveniently timed.” He tried to reassure the people in the room and a certain eavesdropper outside of it. "Still very much alive."

The floor was quiet for a second before First Aid pushed up from where he was sitting on the coffee table and walked over to Sam. While Sam, on one level, was aware that First Aid was coming over to separate himself from the bigger group to keep Sam from feeling me vs. them, Sam still appreciated the thought that went behind it. First Aid popped a squat so he wasn’t looming and gave Sam a reassuring but serious look. “I’m afraid that your seizures are a little bit more than simple seizures.” He explained quietly and had Sam’s full and undivided attention.

“What?” Sam asked, confused.

Setting his hands on his knees, First Aid nodded towards where they had been testing the helmet across the lake. “During your episode, I took you out of the dead zone so I could make an assessment with my sensors. You were already insensate so the harm was deemed to be minimal. My medical scan observed what actually has been happening during your seizures.” He explained. “Do you remember how I explained from my initial scan that there is a network of microfilaments growing inside of you?” Pulling a face, Sam nodded reluctantly, aware that this was relevant to the storyline somehow but not liking it at the same time. “Your seizure wasn’t a regular misfiring of electrical activity in your brain, it was the microfilaments discharging as they grew.”

Staring at the holoform, Sam gaped in mortification. “I’m sorry? What?”

Lifting his shoulders in a shrug, First Aid’s eyes held Sam's. “We don’t know as much about the Spark Touched condition as we wish we did, and your condition in particular is a novelty even among the others. From our experience with those like Will and Epps, the strands don’t typically grow in spurts, they grow slowly, organically.” He sighed a little, “You said that during your seizures are when you get your strongest visions, correct?” He asked to confirm and Sam nodded, feeling overwhelmed. “I can’t say that I’m surprised, the frequency and tone of the discharge I detected was not unlike the energy used in our own memory recall relays.”

Swallowing what felt like a mouth full of sand, Sam leaned forward slightly, “How do I get them to stop?” He asked.

Giving Sam a sympathetic but determined look, First Aid set his hand on the human's knee. “We’re not sure right now, but we’re going to figure it out. I’ve asked my report to Ultra Magnus be flagged as ‘urgent’ and sent directly to Ratchet. In the meantime, we at least now have a measurable starting point, and an explanation as to why none of the medication that you’ve been prescribed over the years have had any effect; chemical agents aren’t terribly effective on cybernetic enhancements.” He explained. 

Breathing out felt like he was releasing all the air he’d ever breathed, Sam had to ask. “Am…am I--” his voice shrank, “--am I changing?” He finally got out, the idea of no longer being human suddenly a terrifying consideration.

Catching Sam’s wild eyes, First Aid squeezed his knee again, grounding him in his all too human body. “Whoa. Hey, Sam, look at me.” He said, inserting authority into his voice to force Sam to shunt all of his attention to the medic. “Sam, you are not changing. Not in a more meaningful way than you already have. The microfilaments would amount to less than a dollar in change if they were removed from you by weight.” He said reassuringly. “They appear to be trying to keep your human tissue from overloading by bearing the load instead of your neurons, like a failsafe, but they’re not functioning like the others for some reason.” 

Oh. Oh, that actually made sense. “I can remember my visions with perfect clarity.” He muttered.

Nodding, First Aid sighed. “I imagine that your normal memories have also improved over the years, correct? And logic or mathematical problems?” Reluctantly Sam nodded, “That part is universal at least. All of you have a baseline Logical-Mathematical Intelligence bump over the rest of the population as well as retention and memory recall.” He explained before seeming to latch onto the unmoored part of Sam and tethering it down with his eyes before he spoke to Sam earnestly. “We’re going to figure this out, Sam. You’re not alone anymore.”

“Yeah, you got us now.” Skids gave Sam a reassuring smile when Sam pulled his attention from the medic at his knee.

Mudflap grinned next to his brother next, “We like ya. Good luck getting rid of us now.” He chuffed, giving Sam a thumbs up.

Even Cliffjumper, Sideswipe, and Barricade seemed on board with that sentiment, if the strangely stoic and determined looks on their faces were anything to go by. 

Will gave Sam a paternal smile, “You’re with us now, kid, we don’t leave our own behind.” He explained from his spot at the small kitchen table.

Sam looked away, feeling too full suddenly from this. It was ridiculous, these people didn’t even really know him, they’d only just met him. Looking out into the evening light he could see Steeljaw’s watchful gaze. “I’m going to disappoint you. I’m really not worth all--” he gestured around at everything, “--this.” He explained.

Before First Aid could respond Cliffjumper walked over, the mountain of a man his holoform was, and gently clasped Sam’s shoulder with one of his dinner plate sized hands. “If you don’t know your own value, somebody will tell you, and it’ll still be less than you’re worth.” He explained philosophically, “You aren’t asking, we’re giving.” Sam looked away from Steeljaw and nodded. Getting his assent, Cliffjumper looked at him fondly. “I’m just sorry it took us so long to find you. It sounds like you’ve been dealing with too heavy of a burden on your own for far too long.” He said sympathetically.

Shrugging, Sam huffed an unfunny laugh. “What was the alternative?” He asked, scrubbing his hands against his face.

Seeing this, First Aid stood up and patted Sam’s other shoulder. “Alright. I think an evening to relax before tomorrow is called for. Food, a book, and an early night are just what the doctor ordered.” He told Sam with a wink. Looking back at the others, he tilted his head towards the door. “Will, Epps, don’t think I haven’t noticed that you two have skipped dinner as well.” He gave pointed looks at Cliffjumper and Barricade at that, before the party started dispersing. Stepping aside, First Aid trekked across the main room to the kitchen while everyone else came over to give Sam a physical expression of support as they departed. 

It was weird on the one hand because Sam knew that a lot of intercommunication between bots didn’t involve touching. Touching was more of a familiar or intimate act, but no one else seemed bothered by it, not even Barricade, who like the rest of them ran a gentle hand over his head as if to reassure himself that Sam still functioned. Sam watched them go in befuddlement before Epps gave him a nod in parting and Will bent to catch his eyes. 

The look Will gave is rueful. “It takes some getting used to, but you learn to accept it.” He shrugged. “Need anything?”

Mouth twitching in a semblance of a smile, Sam shrugged. “You wouldn’t happen to have a script, would you? Maybe cliff notes?” He asked with a snort.

The laugh Will gave was genuine, “If I had one of those I would be king of the world, wouldn’t I?” He smiled, straightening. “Rest up, bud. You deserve it.”

Sam managed to get himself onto the couch, careful of the lumps and bumps he was familiar with on the old beast, pulling the blanket off the back and curling up under it with the correct pillow configuration to support his knees, hips, and lower back to keep the worse of the post seizure discomfort at bay. Having someone else make him food was a nice addition though. From his vantage he could just barely see Steeljaw, who continued to watch him. Instead of creepy, which it should have been, Sam felt soothed (which he realized he should be more concerned by). He waved to the holoform and mouthed ‘I’m fine’, which got a careful nod and then the holoform cut out with a sparkle of blue light.

Curled up on the sofa after two glucose packets and some kind of heavy stew that had come from the fridge, clearly a Sideswipe purchase because Sam’s usual taste in soup ranged from canned to over processed, Sam was happily dozing in that meditative place where all your needs are met and you can relax. The stove was pumping out heat from the wood it was burning and First Aid, Will and Epps were sitting around reading quietly in the murky light, the two humans having returned once they’d gotten their own dinner.

Sam’s IV bag had emptied around the end of dinner so since he’d reached safe limits for a normal human for his vitals, First Aid unhooked him while mentioning off hand that the other Spark Touched had elevated medication tolerance themselves. Sam made a thoughtful noise at that tidbit of information as First Aid helped him into one of his baggy sweaters. 

Rather than being bothered by the subtle sounds of life around him, Sam actually liked it. It reminded him a little of when his parents were still around and they’d hang out. Sam’s sensitivity to standard electrical signals had started not long after his arrival and evenings with the television on either reality TV or some network romcom had converted to evening’s reading books or once in a blue moon, when he was on a particularly good cocktail of drugs, they might even play a board game. Kind of a hiraeth feeling?

Which was why when First Aid’s head shot up and he stood, dropping his book before disappearing entirely Sam didn’t immediately react even though Will and Epps did, standing up and going to the door. He blinked his eyes open, exhausted and confused, as Epps grabbed his jacket and left quickly through the front entryway while Will stayed back, his hand going to the omnipresent sidearm that Sam hadn’t even noticed because it was so part and parcel to the Will package it wasn’t to be noted.

“Will?” He asked in confusion.

Brown eyes cast to the younger man on the couch before returning through the window. “I’m not sure yet.” He glanced around outside where activity was increasing. “Lets get your boots and jacket on, just in case.” He said, grabbing the items and bringing them over as Sam wrestled himself out of his blanket and pillow nest. Sam stomped into his boots and helped Will pull the jacket onto his shoulders as with a start the tent city in his front yard began buzzing like a hornet's nest.

Looking out the window with rising concern, Sam knew that whatever it was wasn’t likely to be ‘nothing’. Climbing up the steps, a random agent in their sweats made eye contact with Will through the window before opening the door. “Sir, we have reports of non-friendlies incoming. We’re implementing a rapid evac.” The woman said, looking from Will to Sam and back. 

What? Sam thought distantly, the blood in his head feeling like a drum. Now? Sam looking first at Will and then the agent uncomprehendingly. 

Will, for his part, basically breathed situational readiness and nodded to the agent, “We got an ETA?” He said, grabbing his own jacket off the hook by the door. 

The agent looked back over her shoulder, “Frenzy was a little shaky on details, the bots in town said it looked like two groups. Could be as little as ten minutes.”

That caused Will to pull up short, turning to look at the agent with a scowl. “Two? Who?”

The woman's face hardened, “Looks like M.E.C.H. and some mechs from the Hustle.” She said quietly, cutting her eyes to Sam. “We aren’t sure…but they might be working together on this.” she murmured softly enough for Sam to have to strain to hear her.

Will's face set in hard angles and he grabbed Sam's arm, drawing him up from the couch and close. “You have three minutes to grab whatever is important to you before we are driving. Got me?” He said to Sam's stunned face before turning and walking with the agent out into the Gordian knot of agents below.

This was it? Sam thought he'd…they said tomorrow afternoon! He knew things were changing quickly; who was M.E.C.H.? What was the Hustle? Sam looked around the house, feeling his panic increase. He couldn't just leave…

Them. No, he couldn't just leave them.

“I can't leave them behind.” He realized with a panicked whisper, eyes looking out beyond the halo of light the cabin provided and into the murky darkness of the valley beyond. Out past the lake, looking at something far beyond what his human eyes could see before going to the wall next to the door where his keys were.

‘I can't leave them.’ Looped on repeat inside of his head without his own input as he opened the door. The small tent village was bustling with activity, people pulling on clothing and from somewhere large turrets were being assembled. Distantly he heard noise from further down the valley but Sam's brain couldn't process them as he turned and started running. Leaping from the porch, Sam bolted down towards the shore of the lake, between the water and the treeline.

“SAM?!” Came someone's yell behind him, followed shortly by swearing and someone else yelling “We've got a runner! Friendly!” And he heard engines start.

No, no, no, no, no! Sam internally moaned over the refrain of ‘I can't leave them.’ Behind him he could hear the massive pedes of Cybertronians in hot pursuit, the cursing and stumbling of someone in the rocks.

He dodged just out of the way as someone's holoform materialized in front of him. Realizing that being in the open wasn't going to benefit him and instead act as a hazard, Sam beelined into the tree line and ran as fast as his legs could carry him. He might have been skinny, and scrawny, and stuck in the body of a young 17 year old, but he had cut his teeth on running for his life and even though he might be woefully out of practice it was a skill that once gained you never really lost.

A streak of blue light cut through the sky from the ridge above him to hit a distant point in the tree line on the other side of the valley, another followed not long afterwards and by the fourth Sam realized that a sniper was taking out the nullifiers on the opposite ridge. No, no, no! He needed those! But there was nothing he could do about it now, it wasn't his objective.

The glens of trees might have slowed his pursuers, no one knew these woods like he did, but it also made him aware that he was completely alone when there were people coming to do…well, clearly not good things to him and the others.

In the half moon light, Sam leapt over hill and dale until finally, black spots in his vision, the little brick building came into view.

God he hated that building. 

‘I can't leave them.’ Pulsed through him. He could distantly hear movement and in spite of his pained body he pushed himself forward, collapsing against the door to the glorified shed as someone burst through the wooded underbrush. Pushing the key blindly into the door lock, Sam turned as Barricade came into his peripheral view, the white of his alt-form the only visible distinction of the mech from shadow.

“SAM! What in Primus’ name are you doing? We don't have time for this!” The mech bellowed angrily, ion cannon coming to bear but focused away from the human as Sam finally got the key into the lock. “We have enemies incoming!” The distant tree line had over a dozen bright bursts of flame as more of the nullifiers were destroyed by the mystery sniper.

Staring at those mixed optics, Sam gasped out his refrain of “I can't leave them!” before shoving the door open. He collapsed into the room, his legs feeling like jelly underneath him. 

Outside, more people arrived as Sam pushed himself forward, the burst of light from whomever was sharpshooting the strongest illumination in the room. A moment later a holoform materialized just outside the doorway, the hard light construct glowing in the dark as the masculine form pushed his way through. “SAM! I'm not kidding! We've got to--” the mech's voice went silent when he finally was able to look around the small chamber.

For many eons, long before the 13 tribes of Cybertron were united, those that believed in Primus had built homes of worship for their God and his small pantheon of demigods in their villages. While the more ornate temples had come about later in the large city states of Tarn, Vos, Iacon, Kaon and others; the first temples had been modest dwellings meant for individual prayer.

Sam had relied on his memories of those temples, the buildings humble mechs had built for a humble God, as inspiration when he had seen the old equipment shed at the edge of the property. It had no spires of translucent aluminum or carbon Crystal structures, it didn't stretch high into the sky to be seen from space, it would never be something so elegant. It was just a small, modest, 8’x10’ shed. 

But he'd done what he could. Carefully etched into every surface of the room, dimly illuminated by the holoforms own light, were the words, the poetry of a people Sam wasn’t sure had even existed when he’d taken pen to plaster. Sam had been compelled to spend months in zealous rigor carefully inscribing every square inch with the words and the sites of a world he himself had never laid eyes upon. The tableaus of the Rust Sea, the Towers of Iacon, the Acid Wastes, the Sonic Canyons, and the Crystal City adorned the walls and in between them the greatest poetry of Cybertrons long history and the holiest words of the Primusian Temples glowed in the dim light. 

While Barricade was focused on the tiny temple of the valley Sam's eyes were drawn lower. 

Sitting on a salvaged but good condition table against the far wall was the one thing he could not leave behind.

Under clear plexiglass, in situ, sat an otherwise nondescript WayStation console. It was, as far as these things go, ancient. The glyphs carefully adorning its surface might have given the impression of a stone wall bearing the pictographs of a people long passed if one didn't know what they were looking at. Sam's lungs burned as he finally made it to the surface, hauling himself up by the lip, staggering against the side. 

His hands were so cold that he could barely feel them anymore, his ears deaf to the whispered prayer behind him as he tried to fit the smallest key on his key ring into the ring lock on the plexiglass box.

“Can't…can't leave them…” he gasped, nearly screaming in frustration at his useless fucking hands for not helping him this once when he so desperately needed them to just work. He did scream in frustrated anger when arms wrapped around him but instead of pulling him away like he feared, larger hands rich with warmth took the key from his nerveless fingers and carefully fit it into the lock before popping the mechanism open.

Sobbing in terror and relief, Sam flung the top off, gently and reverently reaching inside the case to pull the console out. ‘I can't leave them.’

Turning to look up at the holoform, Sam was surprised to see the solemn glowing blue optics in Barricade's holoform's face. The mechs expression was…complicated, but grimly understanding, arm still wrapped around Sam. 

Sam's face was desperate to be understood, “I couldn't--”

An explosion and the dim sound of a helicopter interrupted them. Barricade's face pinched into a grimace, but his eyes locked with Sam's. “You couldn't leave them behind.” He said soberly. 

Sam nodded, wrapping his arms more tightly around the small bundle there. Barricade's eyes traced the glyphs written across what of the surface he could see: ::[Treasure][Loved][Mourned][Brave]::, before tightening his arm around Sam and leading him from the tiny temple. 

The night was alive, but in the way a warzone can suddenly come to life even with the promise of death on the horizon. There, against the far end of the valley where the main road was, was a Samson Series* helicopter spinning out from a direct shot from the sniper, whirling around as it tried to stabilize without its right most fan rotor. Sam could only watch as the helicopter veered off and then burst into flames as it made impact with one of the copse of pines close to the rock face of the mountain peak near the entrance to the valley, not 50 yards from where Sam had been doing his trial run earlier that very day. 

The action couldn’t hold his entire attention when he noticed movement in the small clearing. They weren’t the only ones there: Will, Skids, and Steeljaw all stood looking ready for battle but also looking at Sam like he had taken leave of his senses. 

Static started to filter through his brain and he realized that more nullifiers were down than he had thought as the ping chatter of radio’s started buffeting his brain. #“Confirmed, we've got--”#, #“--incoming bogies--”#, #“--at least 5 mechanoids--”#, #“--sniper on the ridge--”#, #“::--three more helo’s incoming--::”#.

Sam grimaced, reaching his hand up to press to his forehead where the pain of a migraine was beginning to press like a hammer between the eyes.

“Fuck, the dead zone is gone.” Skids swore, coming forward quickly before kneeling down and handing his freshly called holoform a small packet from subspace. “Sam-ma-man, ‘m sorry but I only got this part way done before slag hit the fan.” He apologized as he straightened Sam's lilting head to carefully fit something around his throat. 

When the two ends of the thick band connected there was a zing through Sam's body like a live wire and…everything went weird for a long moment. There was still traffic, still signal, but it was high and low in weird places, making Sam feel like his head was both too big and too small simultaneously. His stomach rebelled but he was able to swallow the sudden salivation in his mouth to way lay any vomiting motion his stomach was interested in partaking in.

The holoform held up a light and looked at Sam's face, checking his eyes. “It's gonna have to do. I ain't got time to make adjustments on the fly.” He grimaced. “Why'd you run?” He finally asked in desperation and Barricade, who was still wrapped around Sam like a sentinel, which Sam honestly needed since he could barely stand on his own at this point, shot the smaller mech a glare which felt [angry][defensive][protective] even without a glyph in the periphery of Sam's perception as the former Decepticons words growled through his lower brain, #“::[Sparkling][gone][mourning].::”#

The entire Cybertronian crew looked at Sam and his small armful and the thunderstruck expression on every mech's face caused the already barely cogent Sam to clasp the system closer to him. “Couldn't…couldn't leave them…” he tried to explain before the larger mechanoid Barricade’s hands scooped Sam up, clasping him to his chassis protectively. 

“We have to get the ::Spark Touched[precious]:: out of here.” Barricade rumbled, looking at the open battlefield with grim optics, clearly running the options and not liking the results. 

Skids jerked his thumb towards where the action was clearly happening at the other side of the valley. “We're fragged if we go that way.” He replied with clear frustration. 

Sam raised his hand, pointing towards the cliffs, “There's a path…” he forced out. “What about Epps?” He asked, suddenly terrified to leave the man behind.

There was a punch of orange light from the cabin as something launched across the valley and took out another limping helicopter. 

Will's expression turned wry, “Don't worry about Ray, he'll be fine.” 

Chapter Text

Sam knew these hills better than any map, paper or digital, and it wasn't very long at all that from the safety of Barricade’s arms Sam was able to lead the three mechs and the General between the crags in the rock and through a set of narrow passages that led to a natural break in the stone and allowed passage to the other side of the valley walls.

On the other side of the hill was an old dirt road that the forestry service had used once upon a time to get access to a fire watch tower that had been decommissioned long before Sam’s tenure below, possibly before he'd been born honestly, which led back to the main thoroughfare a good half mile from the entrance to his valley. They'd paused only momentarily when Skid's red light, better for stealth, had caught Sam’s morose writings on the cliff face but since none of them could read it the pause had only been momentary, though the mech's gazes on Sam had lingered. 

The road had seen a great deal of heavy use in their time and the compaction from heavy vehicles traversing it had meant that even decades later the tire lines were still clearly visible save for some small logs and overgrowth. Luckily, both of which were not an issue for their particular party, able to either step over or around most major obstacles to follow the road away from Sam's home.

When they finally neared the exit to the main road, Barricade carefully set Sam and his burden down, Will stepping forward to keep Sam upright. Barricade and Will shared a look before Will turned to Sam, face set in a grim expression. “Sam.” He said, catching Sam's exhausted and distracted face. Sam couldn't focus on Will's face, the chatter a constant and distracting companion that Sam was having nearly no success tuning it out. “Sam!” That got Sam's attention and he focused wide eyes on the Generals' own. “I need you to stay with me, okay?” At Sam's hasty nod, Will nodded with him with a face that could have been cut from stone. “They can't catch all of us, so I'm going to need you to ride with Steeljaw, okay?” 

Sam stared at Will in confusion. “What?” 

The man's warm hands were like steel themselves on his shoulders, as Will nodded into Sam’s stupefied face. “I need to ride with Cade and I can't be focused on you while I help him. Steeljaw is the fastest but also the least weaponized of us. I need you to ride with him until you reach the rendezvous point. He knows where it is.” He cut a glance to the Mechanimal behind Sam, the mech's head on a swivel as he processed the input around them that he was receiving. “We're going to try to convoy, but I don’t know how viable that is at the moment realistically. The intel we’re getting from in the valley is still pretty garbled. I need you to go with Steeljaw for now. Skids will be back up but frankly he is going to be too slow if we're being pursued.” 

Sam looked at the small grimacing mech, “I ain't a speed model, I'm research.” The green mech explained with an apologetic shrug.

Sam then turned to Steeljaw, who was focused in on the group once more, face set with grim determination, “I'll keep you safe, Sam.” he rumbled. “I'll keep both of you safe.” He said, golden eyes dipping briefly to look at Sam's clutching arms. 

Swallowing, Sam looked between them. “I've never…ridden a motorcycle?” He finished lamely.

Steeljaw transformed in an elegant shift, nearly like a dance, holoform appearing with a helmet that he stepped forward to help strap to Sam's head. “Baptism by fire. Is there anything better?” He asked with mock cheer. He seemed confident but Sam could feel [nervous] and [concerned] from Steeljaw's fields brushing against him. 

Will grabbed the Mechanicals arm, making direct eye contact. “Keep him safe for me.” He said in a tone that Sam felt in his bones.

The holoform locked eyes with Will. “They won't get him while I still have a spark.” There was a prolonged moment between the two of them before an explosion on the other side of the valley expedited whatever this was, and it was clearly something, Sam thought dazedly. Barricade and Skids both transformed then before Will climbed into Barricade’s open door and Sam found himself being maneuvered onto the preposterously large motorcycle, thankful that Steeljaws holoform wrapped around him like an octopus-cum-seat harness and they took off to the quiet rumble of engines.

The tops of the hills were on fire from destroyed nullifiers. The echoes of battle reverberating around the hillside and Sam was suddenly relieved that his closest neighbor was well over a mile away, even as they carefully navigated the road to the main arterial that led through the winding valleys and mountains that made up the Cascades. Sam, securely held, still looked down the road towards his driveway where a flaming SUV lay on its side, clearly the victim of some kind of artillery fire. Lights off, the three vehicles turned from the chaos and up the much more steeply curved road towards the crest of the hillside.

I don't want to leave. A desperate part of Sam thought, even as another explosion rocked the air. 

#“--sustaining heavy fire--”# Cut through just before the roar of propellers as an additional helicopter skid off the top of one of the valley's ingress hills and proceeded to descend in a rapid and uncoordinated manner down the sheer rock face off the other side of the highway, but not before #“--targets spotted escaping south--”# also came across the airwaves. An explosion followed by static as the helicopter made contact with the valley floor below was the grim ending to a damning last communique.

They were not the only ones to hear the doomed pilot's last message. It seemed as a group that stealth was set aside for speed as the three vehicles suddenly took off at terrifying speed down the steeply inclined and narrow road away from the only home Sam had felt comfortable in since he’d arrived in this world.

It was just as well because not a moment later three additional vehicles blasted through the flaming wreckage of the downed SUV blocking the valleys roadway in pursuit of them. Giving up the ghost, Sam could hear Barricades curse. #“::Frag, these slaggers!::”# As the pirates(?) followed at pace behind them. Sam turned to glance back at their pursuers.

Tucked in tighter, Sam could only make out the side of one of the vehicles as it followed up the ridge behind them a distance away. In the dark, with only the reflections of flames and moonlight, it took him a long, long moment but finally the mech's identity availed itself to him. Swindle. Swindle of the Combaticons. That meant…well, the second large vehicle just behind Swindle, some kind of monstrous SUV, had to be Brawl, but the third one wasn't a Combaticon. It was only when a spray of something launched off of the mech as he took a turn too wide that Sam’s eyes widened in recognition. “Blot?” he muttered in confusion.

Feeling the cringe of the holoform around him, Sam heard the ping from Steeljaw to the others, #“We have a confirmed Terrorcon, Blot, in pursuit.”#

#“Confirmed. We have M.E.C.H. forces in the process of being neutralized. We have sustained minimal casualties.”# Came Cliffjumper’s terse voice over the airwaves. #“Your payload?”#

#“Assets are secure. Traveling to the primary fallback point. ETA on air support?”# Barricade rumbled through the channel. 

There was a pause on the other end of the line and Sam realized that the person that they were speaking with was human. #”10 minutes.”# Came the man’s reply. #”Our closest is incoming. Can you hold out?”# He asked pragmatically.

Brawl took that moment to leap across an open section of road between two embankments before reforming back fully into his alt-mode SUV, overtaking Swindle who took the opportunity to shoot his own ally before Blot hydroplaned through another curve, nearly biffing it on the switchback turn. Sam watched them with wide eyes behind the shield of the helmet as Brawl opened fire on the back of Barricade, but instead of merely a cannon or hard artillery he launched a grappling hook instead.

Barricade tilted on his side, lifting onto his right wheels, as it approached his aft and caused it to ricocheted off his bumper and into a pine tree where it snagged and nearly took the massive mech off the road before he was able to redraw it into his alt-form somewhere again.

Blot took the opportunity a ridge provided and crashed hard into the rockface, stunning and/or forcing himself out of his alt-form to shake off the impact and then he disappeared behind the next bend that they took. Sam hadn’t selected the area for the twisting roads, but they were certainly an asset in this kind of tactical driving. Well, for everyone but Blot. 

#”I think we can hold out. Blot might have just taken himself off the battle board.”# Came Will’s voice over the coms and Sam glanced back at Barricade in surprise, not having expected the former con to let the human General use him as a communication relay even though he probably should have. #”The other two appear to want us alive.”# Will said in a voice that conveyed just how enthusiastic he was about that scenario.

Kidnapped by pirates. Sam thought a little bit hysterically before frowning. “Steeljaw, what about Vortex and Blast Off? Did anyone see them? They’re both fliers!” He called through the helmet, not sure how well he could be heard through the hard light creation, even if it was still ostensibly the mech himself. 

He also realized how cold he was. Curled up between the mechs alt for and his hard light form gave Sam a level of protection, but he wasn’t in biker leathers here, he was still in his pajamas and coat and the rush of March air at these speeds was stealing heat like a fox in a henhouse.

The arms around him tightened and the sudden sense of vigilance from the Mechanimal had Sam pressed tight to his front. #”Heads up, we may have fliers joining the party. Do we have any reports of additional Energon signatures in the area?”# Steeljaw's cautious voice drowned the distant chatter from further afield. 

There was quiet for a moment before Ultra Magnus’ voice stirred up the line. #”We have an unknown Energon signature approaching from the East. It is potentially a flier.”# His timber was cautious and displeased. It had a depth to it that was foreign and strange, it felt like Sam could personally experience the big mechs emotions just through the signal alone now. #”Our flier is still nine minutes out.”# He stated grimly.

Behind them the sound of the chain launching a second time came loudly and Barricade partially transformed to let the hook streak under his skidpan and connect with Skids. It was a bad angle for Brawl, and when Skids took the opportunity to launch himself down the sheer rock face below to a lower section of road like a fucking psychopath Brawl nearly went with him before he dropped the chain entirely.

The sound of the heavy chain connecting with the trunks of the large trees on the incline was loud enough to be heard over the wind and the motorcycle which meant it must have been abysmally loud up close. Sam made a scared noise because what about Skids?

That thought took to a backburner because through the greater radio band Sam could hear the angry voice of the large Combaticon crackle to life, #“::Give up, slagging traitor, and give the humans to us. You don't need to die tonight.::”# He finished with an amused tone that Sam could tell meant that even though he 'need not' die, Brawl was more than happy to make sure that he did.

To make matters worse, from over the top of a tree covered peak across from them another helicopter emerged and Sam shrank to see Vortex join the party. Without Skids it was three on two, and Sam knew that those odds? Not in their favor. 

An ion cannon from below caused the Combaticon flier to reel back and away to avoid impact; it seemed that Skids had survived whatever impact he’d experienced below with little enough damage that he could at least be a pain in the aft for their pursuers from below them.

Turning in the seat, Sam saw that the cons were far too close to Barricade's tail for Sam’s liking. Barricade, though he was in the Scout class of builds, was a stocky, heavyset variety which meant that he was slower in the turns than say Bumblebee would have been. It had been something that Bumblebee and others had taken advantage of in the past but it was not so great to be on the other side of the equation right now. Even at his full speed he just simply wasn’t fast enough and Sam could see that he was going to be overtaken before they could get support.

They needed to do something, and quickly, to keep Barricade and Will out of the two Combaticons greedy servos. 

Shutting his eyes tight, Sam struggled through the omnipresent chatter and the pressure of a migraine to think of something, think of anything to try to swing the odds even slightly into their favor. They were on a mountain road, they were on roads Sam had been driving for decades. Think, Sam, THINK. Fliers, especially copters, struggled with tall, dense groundcovers. Thankfully with all of the trees up here, carefully managed by the forestry service managed most of the…the forestry service. 

Looking around, getting his bearings, Sam made a noise of triumph into his helmet. It could work!

Turning his head up to look at Steeljaws face, hair a liquid riot in the moonlight from the wind, Sam caught the Mechanimals attention. “If we can split Vortex after Barricade, we have the advantage in the next valley.” Sam yelled to Steeljaw. “There were rock slides this year; they haven't completely cleared it because the forestry service had to split their forces with a bigger slide closer to town.” He tried to explain.

The holoforms yellow eyes narrowed and his brow pinched, seeing where Sam was going with this.

“If Barricade and Will can take the old service road up, it's thick woods and there are caves and fissures to hide in. It'll slow Vortex, he hates landing on a slope and will do everything he can to avoid it!”  Sam said desperately, urgently. “Will and Barricade will be safe up there until back up arrives! But only if we split the party!”

Steeljaw looked back at Barricade and then down at Sam with a grim expression, #“I don't have the firepower to take the other two.”# Came the resigned voice through his helmet.

Seeing the helicopter hurl a missile ahead of them, trying to block the road and them in, Sam knew that they were seriously close to running out of time for any scenario that didn't have him in a Princess Leia costume come morning. “We can’t win with the three of them working together!” Sam responded. “Splitting their forces is our only hope! It'll give Will and Barricade a chance!” 

The silent understanding between Steeljaw and Sam that they wouldn’t get that same chance was unspoken. They would have to pray that the rock debris were enough.

The amber eyes above him grimaced and Sam could feel the growl of fury through the metal between his thighs, but also capitulation - Steeljaw could see the writing on the wall as easily as Sam could. #“He's not going to like that.”# Was all Steeljaw could respond with before Sam could feel the communique between Barricade and Steeljaw, though he couldn't hear what was said. 

The revving of the engine behind them sounded outraged and Sam could feel anger and frustration from Barricade and frustration and resignation from Steeljaw before Steeljaws arms tightened around him as they took a particularly tight turn. #“Where's the turnoff?”# Steeljaw demanded. 

“About half a mile ahead! I'll point it out but it's tight and steep so Barricade is going to need to gun it once he takes it. Brawl is too big to make the entrance and Swindle’s not going to go alone!” If Sam knew that fragger half as well as he thought he did, they'd floor it after the easier target and abandon Vortex to the hard one. Like they always did. Sam would honestly feel bad for Vortex if the slagger wasn't such an awful mech as well.

Sam could feel the furious capitulation as Barricade dodged another chain and hook, this one nastier and grabbier than the one Brawl had already lost. Swindle was taking pot shots at Barricade too and Sam knew that the back bumper of the former police officer was going to be pitted and cratered like the moon when this was all done. If he saw it again.

Frag.

With a hundred meters to the concealed entrance Sam gulped. “It's right up here, see the big rock? Right after it. Tell Barricade he has to GUN it!” He repeated.

The split was too fast to catch. One second Barricade was roaring behind them, the next he was sliding out in a controlled drift with a billow of brake smoke and then gunned up the trailhead through the narrow hole in the foliage, disappearing into the dark of the forest at night. Brawl skid out in a full fishtail, not expecting the maneuver and Swindle slammed into his back bumper at nearly 60 miles per hour, the literal roar of rage vibrating through Sam's bones as they put distance between the two crashed vehicles and themselves forcing a triumphant smile onto his face. 

There was maybe fifteen seconds before the two vehicles disentangled themselves, abandoned the entrance to the hill climb route, and continued pursuit of Sam and Steeljaw. The hovering Vortex, who had been missing his shots so spectacularly that Sam was concerned that either he wasn't actually trying to block them in or that the mechs targeting system was too broken to either block them in or slow them down, wheeled off to follow Barricade and Will up into the densely wooded mountains reluctantly.

They'd put distance, real distance between them, and Sam tilted his head to watch the empty road behind them. Looking ahead again he felt the Witwicky panic, his true super power, force him to hyper focus. “The rock slides could be anywhere! When the logging company stripped the mountain they sucked at replanting it, meaning the rocks have been an issue for decades! 99% of the time though? 6 rights from here is the worst of it and that continues for about half a mile through! The ridge is really unstable. It's why we needed Vortex gone anyway! The wind would have set off another rock slide!” he explained in word vomit. “It's going to be too narrow for them so they are going to wreck, but we need to be careful too!”

Nodding, Steeljaw tightened his arms around Sam and kicked on more speed but also cast out a sensor sweep that made Sam's knees, frozen and numb from the icy air and the speed, tingle. 

The sign for ‘Road Closed’ appeared behind the second right turn. “Get rid of it!” Sam instructed and an ion cannon popped out of the body of the engine below him and the sign was yeeted straight off the road, over the barrier and into the forest far below. Sam apologized to the motorists that would follow behind them…but not directly behind them. 

Around the next blind turn Sam gasped as the motorcycle launched him from the seat as Steeljaw liquidly transformed and proceeded to catch Sam in a princess carry as he wove around the boulders like an expert ice skater, wheels attached to his ankles like roller blades. Sam's job, as far as he was concerned, was to curl up in a ball and not hyperventilate to death. A tall order, all things considered.

By the time they made it through the first section they'd lost part of their lead but it was sweet vindication to see Brawl go from a roaring 70 miles an hour to a crunching 0 as he made contact with the first boulders at speed. It was even sweeter to see Swindle lose traction and literally slide to crash under the back end of the huge SUV that had pitched forward onto his front wheels, unable to stop the momentum and the blaring horn as Brawls aft inevitably came down and crunched his much smaller companion under his massive bulk. 

The angry horn from Swindle was nothing compared to the crumpled front end of Brawl, his entire hood blossomed outward like a grotesque metal flower from the stress of the impact. 

The grin that split Sam's face was wide and exhilarated. He'd forgotten how much fun this part could be. Wary of the feeling, Sam tucked in tighter around his cargo and closer to the mech who was really doing all of the work.

He'd finally tuned out of the radio chatter with everything going on but was drawn back in with Ultra Magnus’ dulcet tones. #“Vortex is down. Repeat, Vortex is down.”# Sam couldn't help but look back the way they'd come in surprise. He’d thought that the caves would offer protection, not a real opportunity to down the Decepticon, but they were halfway around a mountain from where they'd left Will and Barricade so whatever they’d managed was a complete mystery to Sam. 

A pleasant one though.

“Are Will and Barricade okay?” He called, trying not to distract Steeljaw as he transformed once more under the human and maneuvered around more boulder obstacles with the ease of a dancer.

It was then that Brawl backed up and started plowing through the boulders, screeching his tires on Swindles alt-form to get traction, causing the smaller mech to transform with a scream to try to get away. The big SUV partially deformed to use his arms to launch the smaller boulders through the metal barricade and just muscle through the bigger ones like a plow. A terrifying, alien car plow.

#“I think--”# Came Steeljaw’s voice in his helm, #“--that we should be more worried about ourselves right now.”# He rebutted and Sam couldn't help but see the wisdom in that statement and nod in agreement into the holoforms arms.

#“ETA for flier is 3 minutes.”# Came the human man's voice again. #“Pythia and Steeljaw are our priority. Orion and Apollo are safe and accounted for.”# Came the man's follow up. #“Report, Steeljaw?”#

Weaving through the larger boulders in the next section rather than transform, Steeljaws voice was clear, unbothered by their predicament as he responded. #”Pythia's instincts were correct, Brawl and Swindle are slowed by the terrestrial roadway blockage, though pursuit is ongoing. Brawl had suffered severe damage, Swindle less. Pythia is in declining condition, early stages of hypothermia, adrenal fatigue likely.”# He reported before nearly popping a wheely accelerating through a clear area. #”ETA to rendezvous 20 minutes barring interference.”#

So close? Sam looked back and gulped to realize that Brawl was launching boulders off the side of the roadway like a locomotives cattle gate and was somehow seeming to be gaining on them. 

“Reassess, they're gaining!” Sam gasped into the helmet.

Steeljaws holoform looked behind them before tightening his arms around Sam, pulling him tight to his body and between his thighs. #”Not to alarm anyone, but the two have combined and are now proving to be better capable of dealing with the terrestrial debris than they were alone.”# he said, smooth as you please as he gunned it.

The one good thing about this whole debacle was that come morning, the road and forestry service would have a nice, clear road…here, at least. The problem for Sam and Steeljaw was that there was no longer any debris to slow the two combiners down and in fact, the 2/5th combination of Bruticus was somehow faster than either of its component mechs. 

Steeljaw was barreling down the weaving road but after bursting through the last debris field their pursuer was too and something in the configuration of it's two component mechs seemed to be almost gyroscopically handling the curves. If Sam wasn’t completely aware that doing so was terrible news for them, he’d actually find the process fascinating.

Three minutes was looking like more of a remote possibility with every passing meter. Especially when Brawl’s clawed hook shot out and missed them by less than a foot. 

Sam closed his eyes, wracking his brain for anything else that might be of help. There were no turnouts here, no more debris, the rock face above them held no trees to knock into their path even if they could blast one down, no boulders either - not that that had proved to be an effective long term solution. The rock face below them would destroy anyone who attempted to leap off from it because it was just as sheer as the rock face above it. Steeljaw had proven himself to be a particularly talented athlete but to attempt to do so would be like attempting to do a double black diamond ski run blind without skis. 

Nothing in the environment to help then, other than the mountains' own perilous curves.

Nothing environmental. No help from God, Primus or otherwise. Think, you monkey, think. What did he know about Brawl and Swindle? What could he use?! 

And just like that, an epiphany struck. The Combatacons only worked together because they had been one of Shockwaves Combiner experiments. Individually? They hated each other, none more so than Swindle who had at every turn lived up to his name and stolen, bartered and cheated his own team out of success and supplies, money, enough to be kicked out fairly regularly for the things that they knew about. 

But Sam knew about the things that they didn't. 

Forcing his way through the absolute mountain of information clogging up his brain on a good day, Sam tried to find an incident, one with just Brawl, that would be infuriating enough for Sam’s needs.

He was lucky Swindle was such an absolute slagger because he didn't have to dig particularly deeply in order to find one incident juicy enough for his needs. Curling closer to Steeljaw, he looked back where the combiner was doggedly pursuing them. There were less than 100 meters between them now and at these speeds it was only seconds between where they were now and where the combiner would be.

And closing.

Tightening his own arms Sam tucked closer. “Steeljaw! I have an idea! I need you to talk with the combiner and repeat exactly what I say!”

Steeljaws yellow eyes shot to him, #“I am not going to give you to them! I swore an ::oath::.”#

Oh, that explained the moment between Will and Steeljaw then. Oaths were sacred agreements, ones that Cybertronians very rarely offered because at their base coding they were compelled to complete to their own detriment if necessary.

On a deep level, Sam was touched that a.) Steeljaw had even made an oath, and b.) That he hadn't tried to find a way out of it yet. Maybe there was something to this Spark Touched irresistibility after all.

He shook his head, “I'm hoping this will keep that from being a possibility! I don't want to be captured by space pirates either!” He responded, and then told Steeljaw exactly what he wanted the Mechanimal to relay back to their pursuers. 

It was simple, really. Simple, but devastating. Swindle had schemes on top of schemes on top of schemes, all to enrich himselfabove all others. Many were in play simultaneously, and his wasn't above making his co-conspirators part of multiple schemes that they were not themselves aware of. Brawl, the incredible moron, was often one such mech because he, in spite of working with Swindle for literally millions of vorns, was more inclined to believe Swindle than not. An egregious error, all things considered. Just as he had on a particular job that Sam informed Steeljaw about to educate the big mech himself about.

#”::Brawl, so good to see you again! Have you gotten a new set of rims? Very fetching on you.::”#  Was Steeljaws opening gambit as he jerked to swerve out of the way of the grabber claw. #”::It surprises me to see you here, I would have thought you and your team would have found more fecund hunting grounds than some dirt clod in far space.::”# He continued, leaping over yet another claw grab, Sam closing his eyes tight to keep the terror at bay. #”::But most of all, I'm surprised to see you with our mech Swindle there. Have you forgiven him for Talos 3?::”#

Sam could feel the sudden tension on the other end of the line from Steeljaw as the combiner considered his statement, the claw pausing. #”::Talos 3?::”# Came Brawls very interested voice and the sudden fear from somewhere else in the connection relieved Sam. Good, that had happened here. 

Steeljaw felt it too, and Sam could feel his vindictive amusement saturate the connection. #”::Talos 3, the robbery from the Talos 4 Treasury? The one that got your lower half blown clean off and left you for scrap for a vorn? You remember how Swindle said that the robbery was a bust and that the Bank must have gotten forewarning?::”# Sam could see the combiner slowing before his eyes as the sealed panels between the two started to peel apart.

So could Steeljaw and he happily used that information to coat his message in the glyphs for [amusement at another's expense], #”::Hewas singing a very different tune as he blew through 200,000 Shanix at the casinos of Nebulous on Crystal, pleasure drones, and some of the worst gambling I have ever seen. You blew through the whole load in what, a tridecacycle Swindle? Laughing about some fragging glitched smeltee who got what they had coming to them?::”# Steeljaw said with far more vicious joy than Sam would have put past him.

By this point, Swindle was desperately trying to uncombine from Brawl, digits and servos shoving at their combined plating, as the big mech switched his righteous rage from Steeljaw and Sam to the slagger he was physically attached to.

Sam, in the curve of the road, was able to see the two mechs while still combined start to pull ion cannons on each other and the bigger mechs terrifying grimace of pure unadulterated fury as he wrapped a clawed hand around the neck cables of the smaller mech and shove his cannon under Swindle's jaw plates. A sudden curve in the road away from the two fighting combiners averted Sam's view of what was about to happen but the sound of a discharging cannon, the burst of light in the darkness of the night and the static filled scream that followed physically hurt Sam enough to cry out in pain himself. 

Steeljaws vindictive joy turned to sudden concern as his hands roamed over Sam, looking for injury. #“Sam, are you injured?”# He demanded, looking into Sam's helmeted face. 

Sam moaned, the pain receding with distance but the agony through the connection still echoing. “I---I felt…! Did he--” Sam gasped, “--kill Swindle?!” Sam had seen death, Primus, Sam had seen death, but it had been so long since he'd seen it in a contemporary setting that he'd…he'd forgotten how sudden it could be.

Clutching him closer, Steeljaw somehow sent [comfort][safety][care] without saying a single word to Sam. #“If we're lucky? They'll have killed each other.”# He murmured just loud enough to be heard. #“What matters is that they're not after us anymore and that our air support is incoming.”# He reassured Sam. Sam nodded and not a minute later the sound of a supersonic jet hit them as a dark shape streaked and darted through the sky high above followed not long after by an explosion that would have rocked them had Steeljaw been anything but what he was.

#”Contact confirmed.”# Came a familiar but not immediately recognizable voice through the radio, but Sam was…well, he wasn't doing so well. Sam had been living on adrenaline for the last…hour? Time in a warzone made no sense, it never had. It felt like a year since he'd been curled up on his couch dozing, and if Sam was being honest with himself knew that he was in no condition to have tried any of this in anything but absolute desperation.

With the sustained reason for his terror gone and now with some kind of air support not so distantly supervising their escape, Sam could admit, if only to himself, that he was microns from collapsing.

Sam's head tilted back against Steeljaws holoforms shoulder. It was sheer force of will that kept his arms locked into place around himself but he was so cold, so numb he almost couldn't feel what he was holding inside of his coat.

“Steeljaw?” Sam asked, knowing the mech would hear him. The form around him shifted, indicating his attention. “I'm…really cold.” 

There was a moment of calm before Steeljaws cursed in NeoCybex and tightened his arms around Sam and after a glitch of blue light a yellow hard light blanket was suddenly wrapped around his front. Sam couldn't tell if it was warm or not, but the immediate reduction in wind chill was immensely appreciated. So much so that he missed part of Steeljaws curt report. #”--definitely hypothermic, blood sugar is abysmally low, it's dipping below 45 mg/dL. He's responsive but barely.”# Came the mech's concerned response.

#”You're still 15 minutes out.”# Came First Aid's much missed voice. #”Accelerate the molecules in the blanket to 100°F. We're enroute but…”# Sam's brain decided to stop at that point and he felt his head tip forward and he was certain the only thing that kept him from becoming a smear on the pavement was Steeljaws firm hold on his form.

Chapter Text

Time got a little funny after that. 

Sam burned. At some point someone was moving him, and it was wrong and then someone tried to steal them from him and he had screamed until they'd stopped and he'd then been cold and then hot and Sam was more than happy for unconsciousness so that he didn’t have to deal with whatever was going on out in the waking world anymore.

Finally, finally, Sam slowly became alert enough to be aware not only that he was awake, he was also in pain. His skin hurt, like it was swollen in his hands and face, but the rest of him felt exhausted in a way that he hadn’t felt since the days after Tranquility. To steal a particularly apt description, '...like butter scraped over too much bread'.

That was…unpleasant. Better to hide in sleep as much as possible until the worst of it was over. That was a hard learned lesson from many years in unpleasant situations. He adjusted his position, tightening his arms around something hard and box shaped and familiar. Safe filtered through some distal part of his perception and he hummed, curling around it further and making a soft sigh before consciousness was lost on him again.

The next time that Sam dipped his proverbial toe into the lake of consciousness it was appreciably later. The sounds of life existed outside of his small bubble and the pain of being in a physical form pressed on the edges of his awareness like opportunistic talons, but less intense than before, more muted, and he was aware at least. He breathed for a minute, the smell of hospital burned like a brand in his mind. He'd spent enough time in them over the years that the distinctive smell roused him to full consciousness above everything else.

Prying an eye open, Sam couldn't make heads or tails of what he was looking at. 

A boy was sitting next to his hospital bed playing on a handheld console, feet propped up on the side of the bed, shifting slightly as he focused on the console. While Sam would have chuckled to find that even in this day and age that children still had handheld consoles, his slowly onlining mind latched onto details that would tip that assumption right on its head. For one, the console game was, by today's standards, absolutely ancient. 

“Where'd you find a Nintendo Switch?” Sam asked curiously, words slurred from sleep, only for the boy to appear to ignore Sam entirely while he twisted in his chair, actively engaged in whatever he was doing. 

After a long minute, so long that Sam assumed the kid wasn't going to answer, a pair of blue eyes glanced at him for a second before returning to the screen. “eBay.” The duh was heavily implied. While the kid sounded, at least tonally, like a child, as Sam slowly gained full consciousness he realized that the boy was none other than Frenzy. Somehow he looked softer in the early morning light, even if the overhead hospital fluorescents caused harsh shadows everywhere else. Frenzy made little grunting noises as he played, appearing to be in the middle of some kind of battle and Sam could understand not wanting to be interrupted, having gamed himself before…before.

It was an indeterminate amount of time later when whatever had held the little mech's attention resolved and Sam felt pale blue eyes focus on him instead. Blinking his own exhausted brown ones back open, he found Frenzy's unerring gaze locked on him with a preternatural focus. 

He raised a brow and the little holoform pointedly tilted his head at the lump in Sam's arms. “So it's a Sparkling?” He asked without preamble. 

Sam grimaced, a soft place next to his heart twisted. “They were a Sparkling. An ‘it’ is an object, they were a person. At least…at least for a little while.” He defended to the small mech.

Frenzy's face did a complicated movement, one Sam even on a good day probably couldn’t comprehend, before the blond tilted his head in acknowledgement. “And you made them?” The little holoform asked, tone slightly less…cavalier than it had been before.

Sam shrugged. “I'm not entirely sure. I think so, but I was unconscious when it happened.” He admitted quietly, fingers on the hard plastic. “I had a really bad seizure and when I woke up…they were just there. Just kind of looking around my apartment. I thought I'd gone completely mental.” He admitted quietly, almost like a confession. “They were just…this sweet, curious, little bot, chirping at me and wanted to be shown everything. They loved the toaster, we spent like 40 minutes making toast.” He said fondly before the inevitable stole the look from his face. “But it didn’t last. We fell asleep on the couch and when I woke up…their spark had extinguished. They'd folded up into their original form and offlined just like that.” He said quietly. 

Frenzy, in spite of himself, looked grieved - though it could never approach Sam's own grief. 

“You did the Rights.” Came the little boy's voice, the complicated emotions in it causing Sam to close his eyes in quiet grief. 

“I tried. I did what I could, hoping they'd find their way back home, back to the Well.” He said with conviction, trying to reassure himself more than the former Decepticon in the chair next to him.

Frenzy was quiet for a long moment, so long that Sam was sure that the little mech was done with the conversation, before Sam felt a small hand slip into his. If Sam didn't know it wasn't flesh and blood he'd never have guessed that it wasn't, even with the small charge of static that came with the holoforms soft grip. “Then you did right by them. You did good. Not many wouldn’t have panicked, fewer still wouldn’t have attacked them, destroyed them. Even if their life was short, it doesn't sound like a bad life to have had.” The young boy's voice was incongruous with the old wisdom it imparted.

Sam choked, gently squeezing the hand, the little bit of connection easing a tightened coil that had been there since that day so long ago. “I just don't know what I did wrong.” He whispered.

“Sometimes you don't do anything wrong and it still doesn't work out. You can only do your best; you can't do better than your best and I believe you did.” Came the soft young voice. The little hand squeezed his gently. "Not many of us had Guardians, fewer still had good ones who cared for our happiness. If only more Guardians were like you, maybe we wouldn't have lost so many.” Frenzy said philosophically.

Sam stared at the young face for a moment, knowing that even though he appeared to be the senior between the two of them, that Frenzy outmatched him to a caliber that Sam couldn't ever truly comprehend. “Thanks, Frenzy.” He said quietly.

Frenzy nodded, giving Sam's hand another squeeze that sent a pleasant tingle through his arm. “Don't mention it.” He said, drawing his hand back and then tentatively, reverently, laying it on the side of the WayStation before folding back up into his chair.

When the soft sounds of someone on a game console filled the silence again Sam snuggled further down into his pillows, which were surprisingly fluffy for a hospital, and dozed for a little while longer. When he was close to actually falling asleep, the door to the greater hospital opened and Sam sluggishly blinked his eyes open to see First Aid poke his head in with a smile. Sam smiled back sleepily at the mech and gave a little wave.

Frenzy paused his game for the medic, turning and tucking the machine into his subspace before using his feet to push the chair back and out of the way as First Aid moved to Sam's bedside, a flash of blue from the holoforms scanner skipping over Sam like tiny prickles which caused him to jerk a little. 

First Aid’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully, “Don't like the scanner sensation?”

Sam frowned and shook his head, “It just feels weird, I wasn’t really expecting it to prickle so much. It felt different than last time.” He tried to explain.

Nodding, the medic looked him over. “I suppose that is a fair reaction to novel stimuli given what your bodies been through in the last 24 hours. Other than the scanner ‘prickles’, how are you feeling?” The medic asked.

Blinking slowly, Sam shrugged. “Tired mostly. Achy. Fingers and toes accounted for?” he asked, wiggling them to check though he was sure he hadn’t lost anything to frostbite. 

Even though he didn't need to, First Aid's holoform still pressed the back of his hand to Sam's forehead to check his temperature despite the scanner having gotten it. “As of 20 seconds ago, all 12 fingers and toes were present and accounted for.” 

There was a moment of silence before Sam giggled at First Aid's awful joke. “As long as they're all still there.” He smiled.

First Aid nodded before his face grew somber. “We were, in many respects, very lucky last night.” He explained, reaching down and taking one of Sam’s hands and lifting it to examine his fingers. “In spite of your health concerns and complications, the regenerative ability that is unique to your kind, the Spark Touched, appears to be functioning with maximum efficiency.” He said thoughtfully, showing Sam his own hand. “Your core temperature dropped dangerously low, your extremities even more so, but other than some initial swelling, you aren’t displaying any of the usual concerns one should have post hypothermia that humans typically display.” He said thoughtfully.

Frowning, Sam looked at his own hand in the others grip. “What do you mean?”

First Aid released Sam’s hand and leaned his hip against the bed to lean casually there. “Hypothermia may have a single cause but it presents in a myriad of symptoms and affects many of your systems in different ways, providing a host of side effects. That’s why it is so dangerous, not just the survivability but the aftercare and recovery prognosis as well.” He explained clinically. “You were oscillating between severe hypothermia and moderate hypothermia by the time that you escaped your pursuers.”

Sam frowned, “That sounds bad.” He said cautiously. Sam knew, intellectually, that hypothermia was bad, but it wasn't something that he'd say he had dedicated much time or thought to. 

The ‘oh really?’ look that First Aid gave him startled an embarrassed smile out of Sam. “That is, perhaps, because it is bad.” The medic said, slightly snarkily. Sam was proud of him. He hadn’t seen that kind of response from the mech much but the tone reminded Sam of an older, chartreuse medical hummer nostalgically and it was comforting in its familiarity. “The most common severe side effect is the cessation of current within the cardiac muscles, stilling the heart and leading to death. Other concerns are the damage to the dermis and other systems unable to recover fast enough, causing a cascade failure.” He said, and though his words and tone were clinical, Sam could see that First Aid was upset by what that could have meant for Sam.

“But I didn’t have those.” Sam said, certain, if confused.

Nodding, First Aid looked down at Sam with a considering look. “No. You did not. While we do not deliberately test your abilities due to both ethical considerations and the distaste for it, the case studies of your kind's recovery from these kinds of scenarios does intrigue. As your temperature increased, the primary concerns that a normal human would have recovering from hypothermia never manifested in you. Your hands did not frostbite though they should have. Your heart shows no adverse side effects though it too should if nothing else still be in recovery mode.” 

Bringing his hand up, Sam looked the delicate flesh over but it looked just like his hand to him, though it felt a little sensitive like it had recovered from a sunburn not so distantly in the past. “Is there any evidence that I was hypothermic?”

Frowning, First Aid shook his head. “If I didn’t know better I would be unable to ascertain that you had been hypothermic in the last week, let alone 13 hours ago.” He said carefully. “It’s remarkable, considering your species average response to the condition. We would need to keep you in hospital for a fortnight if you were a normal human out of caution for any of your systems collapsing, but there is no evidence that they are anything but happy, healthy, teenager organs.”

Sam screwed his face up at the phrasing. “Maybe not the best way to say that.”

This time the holoform did roll his eyes. “What I’m saying is that your healing is astonishing from a medical standpoint and why we can’t have you working with unvetted medical staff. This kind of recovery would raise a lot of questions and neither you nor I want to have to answer.”

Nodding thoughtfully, something clicked for Sam. “That’s why I haven’t had a nurse in.”

First Aid nodded. “Correct. The hospital has been accommodating of our use of their facilities, but we’ve had to do a fair bit of medical gymnastics to keep your condition private. You’re officially in isolation because you potentially came into contact with a highly transmissible measles variant that is vaccine resistant, but since you’re recovering so quickly we’re happily not looking at a long term stay here.”

Sam, too, was incredibly grateful to not have to stay in the facility any longer than he had to. He’d spent far too much time in medical facilities, especially against his will, in the past to ever find himself comfortable in them again.

“So, what kind of timeline are we looking at then?” He inquired wearily. While Sam might not have had any lasting effects from nearly freezing to death, apparently, he felt like he was still on deaths door by way of exhaustion. 

First Aid folded his arms, considering. “At this point, while observation is recommended, there is no reason to keep you in the hospital. There are some administrative tasks, and some logistical considerations to implement, but nothing here is going to benefit you more than what I can offer in transit and there are many reasons to move on as quickly as possible.”

Just then there was a brief knock at the door and First Aid barely turned to acknowledge Barricade and Lennox as they entered the room. Sam gave a weak smile, closing his eyes tiredly for a second and the sound of rubber on linoleum informed Sam of his new guests locations. 

Frenzy surprised Sam, the little bot having been quiet for Sam’s discussion with First Aid, by standing up and abandoning his chair to walk over and wrap his hand in Barricade’s like a real child would with an adult. Barricade smiled down at the little holoform but didn't comment as he walked to the hospital wall so as not to crowd Sam in the bed.

Feeling like laying down maybe wasn't the best position to be having a conversation with so many people in the room, Sam rolled to be in a sitting position, letting First Aid help him up because whether he wanted to admit it or not, he needed it. He sobered pretty quickly and looked from First Aid to Will. “Is everyone okay?” 

Will turned his gaze to Sam and instantly Sam recognized the look of someone who was very upset, verging on furious. “No major injuries, mostly bumps and bruises, a broken wrist from one of the agents who fell while moving equipment. You, on the other hand, were our worst off by far. What were you thinking?” Will chastised him loudly, causing Sam to avert his eyes and lift his shoulders closer to his ears. “If your plans hadn’t worked, which there was no guarantee they would and every reason that they wouldn't, we might not even be having this discussion right now because you’d either be dead or in a spaceship off to Primus knows where.” The man continued in an angry voice, arm thrown out towards the window to indicate the vastness of space beyond the hospital walls.

Wincing, Sam shrank a bit in the bed. Barricade leaned over and placed a restraining hand on the back of Will’s neck and gave a gentle squeeze which caused the clearly very upset man to grumble but calm slightly. “We’re here to protect you Sam, we can’t do that if you won’t let us.” Will rubbed his face with his hand, digging his thumb and forefinger into his eyes tiredly. 

Feeling like a heel, Sam pressed his face into his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Will. I just…I didn’t really see any other way out without them getting you and Barricade too? I knew them, I know how they think and what they do and we were in bad trouble. They were right behind you and Vortex would sooner or later have gotten a lucky shot in.” He tried to explain his thinking helplessly. “I know it got fucked, but I couldn’t see any other way anyone could save the situation. We just…didn’t have the support. And then I couldn’t, like, exactly tell you what I was thinking.” He tried to clarify.

First Aid frowned, giving Sam’s arm a small squeeze as he leveled a droll look at the General. “All of this can be handled in the debrief, Sam’s not in a condition to hash this out now.” He chided Will gently. “Epps and Cliffjumper won’t appreciate not being involved either.” 

Sam felt a rush of relief that he wasn’t going to have to defend himself from a hospital bed; it never ended well for him in the past and it didn't appear that it was going to in the present so he appreciated the reprieve. It also gave him something else to focus on.

Tilting his head, grasping at the distraction and Sam's need to confirm. “Epps and Cliffjumper are okay then?”

Barricade snorted, “They’re fine, Sam. Epps is more than okay, he's insufferable.” The mech rolled his eyes good naturedly as he gave Will one last gentle squeeze before releasing him and leaning back against the wall with Frenzy. “Just because he got to unleash a little firepower he thinks he's a Prime or something.”

Chuckling a little, wondering if Epps got to use the turret that he'd seen the agents rapidly assembling in camp, Sam turned to Will tentatively. “You remember the movie Armageddon with Bruce Willis, the guy riding the rocket?” Hoping to earn forgiveness through levity.

“‘I just wanted to feel the power between my legs.’” Came Frenzy's childlike voice from just above waist height.

Will's face twisted. “Not what I wanted to hear in that voice.” He admitted.

The little blue eyed bastard glared at Will, “I'm not really a child.” He defended himself. 

Sam rolled his own eyes, “No one here thinks you're a child, Frenzy. You're, what, close to 10 million of our cycles old?” Sam asked the little holoform.

“9,900,324 Earth cycles, give or take due to gravitational time dilation fluctuations in transit.” he explained proudly.

Will looked at the young looking holoform in surprise and Sam just shrugged. “You've been alive longer than there's been a bipedal ape that would eventually produce a human. No, no one here thinks you're a kid.” He yawned. “Disguise is good though, but you've always been pretty adept at those.” He mumbled tiredly.

Will, sensing that they'd gotten side tracked, refocused. “While everyone is fine, I'm sorry to say that not everything is fine.” He admitted apologetically. “A missile blew out part of the cabin.”

That woke Sam up. Blinking at Will for a moment, trying to add this new chunk of information to his brain, Sam raised his hand and covered his eyes. “Scale of 1-10, how badly are we talking about for 'blown up'?”

There was an extended pause before First Aid sighed. “It didn't catch fire but it is not structurally stable and the damage is too extensive to try to repair.” He explained apologetically. “We're recovering what we can, but it's going to have to come down for safety's sake.” 

“Your car's okay though.” Frenzy offered. “It avoided the damage.”

Well, that was something at least. “Do you know if my typewriters okay? It and my mom's picture in the bedroom are the only material things I care about that I left behind.” Sam stated. He'd been so sidetracked by the his need to get to the shed that he hadn't even thought about them. 

Everyone very carefully didn't look at the small mound in the blankets against Sam's hip. 

Will folded his arms, “The missile hit the back of the house, so the blast might have gotten the typewriter but I’ll inquire about those two items in particular.” He assured Sam. “There was a fair bit of damage around the valley from the firefight, unfortunately. I.C.E.R. and the forestry service are currently assessing how bad it is.”

Sam winced, covering his eyes with his free hand. “I guess I should have known that, there was a literal fireball at the entrance road. Who did this?” He said, looking around at the room through his fingers.

Barricade, Lennox, and First Aid all gave each other looks before Lennox nodded to First Aid. “Can you contact Epps for me; get a sitrep and ask about Sam’s personal effects?” He asked.

First Aid’s expression shuttered a little in clear annoyance, but he inclined his head in acknowledgement before heading towards the door after patting Sam's ankle. Barricade gently directed Frenzy to follow and the little holoform huffed before letting go of Barricade's hand and scampering to take First Aids, giving Sam a parting look before the two holoforms left the room together.

Sam knew that they were getting down to brass tacks, the big stuff, but part of him was waylaid, “Does Frenzy hold everyone’s hand?” He asked distractedly.

Will gave Sam a long blink before Barricade snorted. “He likes it. He won’t touch a normal human if he doesn’t have to but his sensor array is very delicate, like the rest of him, and he likes to feel people's electro magnetic fields. He mostly gets away with it because he’s a cassette.” The holoform gave a gusty sigh, “Despite him proclaiming that he’s an adult he really just likes to be babied.”

There was a burst of static at the base of Sam’s skull, not distinct enough for words but indignity came through loud and clear - catching Sam’s surprised eyes Barricade’s face adopted a thoughtful look. “Oh, still getting some signals? Skids made some adjustments to the collar while you were asleep but apparently not enough. We know that the nullifier isn’t perfect, obviously, but I didn’t realize you could still hear us.”

Sam shook his head, “Not words, this time. Uh, it felt…indignant? Was that Frenzy?”

Barricade grinned. “Yeah, he said ‘No I don’t’, not that you can believe that little fragger.” He tilted his head as though he was relieving tension in his shoulders which since he had no muscles was interesting before refocusing on Lennox and Sam. “So, it seems like we’ve been trying to shield you from some things and in spite of our best efforts you very nearly suffered the consequences anyway.”

Chapter Text

Sam felt a little ridiculous standing in Will's overlarge military coat even though it was thick and warm, tough enough to fight off the mid March chill. It helped since the only clothes that Sam currently had to his name were the hospital scrubs that they’d given him as his own clothes had literally had to be cut off of him in the emergency room. He’d been insensate enough from hypothermia to not understand or remember anything but conscious enough to fight anyone who’d tried to remove the WayStation from his arms, necessitating the use of the sheers. 

The doctors and nurses on staff had been frankly flabbergasted, the jokes he’d overheard had been…less than kind in regards to the situation.

It wasn’t the first time he’d been the butt of a joke or two, especially about his own mental health. He might not appreciate it, but he reminded himself that not only did they have a hard job already, but that his case was notably weird and did give them something to gawk at. It didn’t help that a ‘military’ doctor had taken over a section of their ward for the care of ‘the kid who wouldn’t let go of his game system’.

Still…it was nice to be up, even if he looked like a mental ward escapee. The bathrooms in the hospital had mirrors and he’d been struck by how different a few decades could really make to someone who was perpetually stuck in that awkward stage of puberty before facial hair became a real thing but after BO did. He could also kind of get why First Aid was keeping a very close eye on his food intake, without his normal layers of clothes he was positively gaunt.

Well, that’s why he needed to borrow Will’s coat, really. While ostensibly his mothers picture had survived the blast, it was only because the wall that had held his closet had taken the brunt of the impact, apparently very little was salvageable. By divine comedy the same blast had also taken out his bed and the dresser he’d wedged himself against during his night-terror addled twilight adventure a few evenings prior, meaning that he was essentially without any garments of his own at all. Even the hamper had been eviscerated. 

Part of Sam lamented that if Primus hated his wardrobe that much it would have been nice to have gotten a gentle ‘What not the Wear’ primer instead of raining devastation on his wardrobe in such a biblical manner.

That left Sam with no clothes. While the hospital had given Sam a set of scrubs as they would any other clothesless person, it was a situation that needed to be rectified quickly, especially with the March chill still so strong. Although Rockport had a small hospital, which didn’t help with the rumor mill, it similarly didn’t have a wide array of options for stores meaning that both Sam and Will were at the mercy of whatever was available at the local Dollar General.

Dollar General for the General. 

Theoretically they could have just ordered clothing online but the security risk had been deemed too high and their timetable too tight. Any activity was deemed too much activity and the only reason that they’d been ‘safe’ at the hospital was because of a series of carefully constructed IDs and fabrications, including some masterclass hacking that someone was doing in the back end. 

Will grabbed a cart, keeping a close eye on Sam as he drew the teenage bodied septuagenarian along with him. First Aid had joined them as a safety precaution but the rest of the crew: Steeljaw (who was now hired on as part of the security detail), Barricade, Frenzy and Skids were parked outside monitoring for safety. While Sam didn’t particularly care what he wore, he could understand the logic for allowing him to select supplies when he knew what he liked and the others didn’t. It was also some kind of 'bonding' tactic he was sure, the concern of him being a flight risk as well as a security risk not lost on Sam.

The first stop was hygiene where Will grabbed a couple of shower bags, toothpaste tubes, toothbrushes, small mouthwashes, floss pics (Sam traded out half of the mouth related items for non-mint options), and travel sized bottles of various body cleaners. Glancing at Sam he threw in a folding brush into the basket and Sam huffed a small laugh.

Hygiene taken care of, Will and First Aid continued to the clothing section which was a bit overwhelming for Sam. The aisle was stuffed with clothing on either side and it narrowed the already trim space into a barely passable corridor. Sam released the cart as Will walked in and felt First Aid join him with as much polite distance as he could in the frankly overstocked store. 

Will's eyes caught First Aid's before giving the holoform a brief nod and quickly going through the selection, grabbing a bag of socks, underwear and undershirts before having to actually check sizes on things.

Sam was more than happy to hang back for his ‘turn’. When he'd needed clothes he'd mostly added it to Dave the Delivery Dudes weekly list, or gone to the Kroger Supercenter in Mazama, but that'd been when he'd been well enough to make the trip which Sam realized was actually quite a while ago. He hadn't been able to make the trek since his symptoms had gotten bad.

His symptoms weren't completely gone even with the nullifying collar either. He could vaguely hear the chatter of the bots even with his fashion accessory on, but it was a sight better than if he didn't have it at all. The main problem with the collar though were the looks he kept getting from people behind their HUD's. It was clearly not fabric and it along with the vagrant outfit had inspired quite a few double takes. 

Primus, Sam wanted to be back in his cold little cabin writing about a war that had apparently been over longer than human civilization had been around. 

Finally, Will had grabbed what he needed and pushed the cart to the end of the aisle to let Sam take a look. "Grab a few days worth of clothes, we've got some options on Diego Garcia but the color scheme is pretty camouflage forward." Will joked with a wink. Sam rolled his eyes, but nodded. It was just clothes, his mom had dragged him to worse he kept telling himself as he entered. 

The underwear, socks, and undershirts were easy enough. He grabbed a pair of generic Hanes sweatpants, a pair of light wash blue jeans and then looked up into the rack for sweaters when he went stock still.

Sunflower yellow.

His hands went up and he unhooked a large golden yellow hoodie with a black stripe wrapped around the chest. It was thick, heavy, and perfect. It was a bit big, true, but Sam didn't care.

First Aid hummed next to him, reaching over and taking Sam's other finds to let Sam confirm that this was the hoodie he wanted. It was the only one of the rack though, so Sam fisted his hand in the material. Instead of commenting on it, First Aid nodded, grabbing a couple of knit hats and a pair of gloves to add to the pile in his arms before gently directing Sam down the aisle to meet Will and the store's slim selection of shoes. 

Sam was currently wearing two layers of grippy socks and hospital slippers. Looking over the sandals (not a great option when there was snow on the ground) and the store's own slippers, Sam wondered if he'd just be forced to wear slippers for a bit before Will made a noise of triumph. 

Under a box of pink bubble slippers was a box of vans knockoffs. The black kind with a white stripe. “Cool, what size’re you Sam?”

Peering over the knelt down man, Sam considered, “8, I think? Anything in that range?”

Will pulled shoes out and frowned at each incorrect size but he held a pair aloft proudly. “A Ranger can find a needle in a haystack blindfolded backwards.” The man boasted. 

Sam snorted. “Where in the process does the backwards come into play?” Sam ribbed the General back.

Brown eyes on Sam, Will straightened with a grin. “Yes.” Before dumping the shoes in the cart before pausing and adding a couple pairs of real slippers into the cart as well. 

Rolling his eyes, Sam watched First Aid dump his own items into the cart when it turned and he got access but Sam didn't relinquish his hold on the hoodie. The next few minutes of browsing the aisles and adding necessities like snacks (Will ignored First Aid's glower at the amount of processed and sugar focused foods that ended up in the cart) and a couple notebooks and a set of pens. Will added two nondescript backpacks and a couple pairs of sunglasses to the cart.

The security guard, the only human employee that Sam had seen, eyed them over his handheld screen device but didn't comment as First Aid tapped his ‘watch’ against the checkout payment terminal and Will loaded everything into the backpacks, leaving out a few items for Sam to change into. 

“Change in the restroom, be quick though. I don't like being here longer than we have to.” Will requested, shouldering both full backpacks while Sam's arms held a full change of clothes.

The guard called out the bathroom code when Will asked it and Sam was off to the fluorescent lit room. It was single occupancy and strangely held more overstock boxes of items, not that Sam was interested in rooting through them. With the Eye in the Sky security system he'd rather not mess with a clean getaway.

Nothing fit great, but it was well enough for any teenager. The socks were thick and soft, most of them were now since the main fibers in them had switched to bamboo and viscose, which were easier and cheaper to grow than cotton though the jeans were mostly cotton denim. The shirt was plain white, not that anyone could see it once Sam yanked the yellow hoodie on. 

Looking at himself in the mirror, Sam's stomach twisted. 

It could have been the day he left for school before he found Bee. It was almost like no time at all had passed, except for the hair. Averting his eyes, Sam stepped out of the view of the mirror as he folded up all of his hospital apparel, except the grippy socks and Will's jacket and binned the rest. He'd lived in scrubs for more than enough of his life.

Folding the jacket over his arm Sam left the bathroom and…noticed the exit door.

It was clearly an emergency door, alarmed. Sam had seen the neighborhood the Dollar General was in and didn't fancy his chances at finding a getaway vehicle out there. Most cars weren't like the Zephyr, they'd require a key or a fob or they wouldn't start without a lot of work and then the network would slam the vehicle into security lock mode once it determined he was not a permitted driver.

Additionally, he had no money, no ID, no tools, he literally only had the clothes on his back and the magnanimity of the bots he was trusting his life to.

It wasn't like there was even a home to go back to. M.E.C.H. and them had made sure of that.

-----------

Slowly rising to a more vertical sitting position despite how painful it was, Sam leaned back into the pillows the hospital bed offered with some difficulty. “Yeah. When everything was happening, you said it was something called ‘M.E.C.H.’?”

Will nodded. “Mechanized Extraterrestrial Control for Humanity. They're a fringe group. They've only been around for the last 15 years but they've been aware of the Cybertronians' arrival since practically day one over thirty years ago.” He explained. “Their founder, a former Army General by the name of Leland Bishop, was on the welcome committee and was anything but welcoming. Started the organization almost immediately when he realized there were profits and power to be had. We suspect that they've got deep pockets in a lot of places based on their logistics support, intelligence, and armaments.”

Barricade folded his hands over his stomach. “Their goal is to exploit Cybertronian technology for their own benefit, to establish a new world order with Leland Bishop, or Silas as he likes to refer to himself, at the top.” His face shifted into a sneer. “Thinks the best way to go about it is to hunt us down and scavenge our corpses for parts to use for Primus only knows what.” 

Sam blanched, instinctively reaching out and touching the holoforms knee in…well, in comfort, the same as Barricade had petted his hair after his seizure the day before. All of them looked a little surprised, but Barricade reached a hand down and patted Sam's much smaller and paler one with his own. “Hey, it's okay. They didn't get anyone, we're all safe.”

Sam squeezed the holoforms knee, “But we nearly weren't.” 

Brown eyes serious, Will breathed out an exhausted sigh, “Correct, we nearly weren't.” He was quiet for a moment, gathering his thoughts. “That a Decepticon ship like the Hustle was able to establish contact with M.E.C.H. is a concern, but also an oddity. MECH doesn't distinguish between Cybertronians, or they haven't in the past. We've come across the remains of more than a few Decepticon pirates in pursuit of Silas and M.E.C.H.; to break the pattern for the two organizations to work together is an unwelcome surprise, and a new concern Red Alert is bugging out over.” 

Barricade's hand was oddly warm, or Sam's was distinctly cold. Possibly a combination of the two. “Have they gotten any…any of yours?”

Giving Sam's hand another squeeze, Barricade leaned back. “Before we knew what was going on they captured a few of ours, did a number on Beachcomber and Brawn but we were luckily able to intervene. We've not lost anyone officially, but there have been enough mysterious disappearances from ‘tourists’ that we're not confident in that assessment.” He sighed. 

Which was all bad, but Sam frowned as he was dragged on a tangent. “Tourists?” 

Letting Sam distract them, Will nodded. “Earth is a novelty and we've been getting more and more interest from the galactic community. Cybertron's protectorate status protects us from most races taking a destructive or exploitative interest, apparently, but we've gotten several requests for access by several non-military or government bots.” He explained. “It's not as regulated as anyone would like and we've had a few just show up at Diego Garcia ready to be launched back into orbit after their visit was over, us not even knowing that they'd been here.”

Nodding with a pinched expression Barricade elaborated. “Because we spent millions of years hiding and tracking each other down, we’ve ratcheted up our technology to make ourselves nearly impossible to locate unless the person wants to be found. We made our own problem. It's one of the reasons we're pressing forward with announcing our presence, the other being that if we are visible it'll be harder to harm us because we can announce the attack to the global community. There are concerns about the population's perception but it's going to happen sooner or later, and we might as well do it early to iron out the wrinkles before humans have the technology to be a threat to us.” He said candidly. 

Giving the knee below his hand a pointed poke, Sam leveled his eyes at the two of them. “If we weren't already a threat we wouldn't be talking about M.E.C.H. and this 'Silas' character.”

Dipping his head in acknowledgment, Barricade ceded the point. 

Will frowned. “M.E.C.H. has been operating out of the shadows, but they're not the only ones. Diego Garcia and Cybertronians in general have been a pretty poorly hidden secret as far as intelligence goes for decades, and we've been dealing with some variety of interest since they arrived from government entities to private parties. The Initiative, for example, has been popping up and stealing Energon, breaking into research facilities we work with and have bought intelligence from multiple operatives that we know of. We suspect if there is a Sector 7 in this world it'll be much the same with them. We've even had to repel Ethiopian Pirates and Iranian warships in the past.” He rubbed his hand across his face. “And these are just the human threats.” 

Seeing Sam's face, Barricade was quick to reassure him, “But we haven't had those kinds of issues in almost a decade. The security at Diego Garcia is of the highest caliber that Cybertron has to offer, you and the rest of the Spark Touched are safer there than anywhere else in the galaxy.” He said confidently. “We test the facility regularly and patch any issues that Getaway or his associates find.”

Sam nodded, but frowned. “Is it safe for you?” 

Caught off guard, the holoform smiled charmingly, “Nothings gonna get me, Sam. The embarrassment alone of being offlined by some flesh sacks’d keep me from rejoining Primus on principle.” He teased.

Drawing his hand back, but not really offended, Sam folded his hands in his lap. “But now we have human threats and Cybertronian threats working together, right?”

Will gave a sober nod. “Yeah. They sent ahead a scout group to identify informants and acquire Intel about us. We weren't the most subtle even if we hadn't anticipated being in the Valley nearly as long as we were. Tracking money transfers to residents in town it appears that they were spreading cash around under the premise that they were documentarians looking to do a story about the reclusive Sam Witwicky and needed ‘B-Roll’ about the folks from town for flavor.” 

Closing his eyes and pressing his fingertips into his eyelids, knowing the answer, he still had to confirm it. “And everyone talked?”

Hearing the movement of fabric, Sam inferred that Will had shrugged. “Looks that way. We’re dealing with the ‘oversharing’ generation. Luckily you kept such a low profile that most everyone thought that there really was an old man living in the woods writing books.”

Sam could hear the ‘but’. “But not everybody.” He finished for Will, opening his eyes to regard the two men.

Barricade shook his head. “Dave Mortimer has a mouth on him but literally no filter protocol in place. Dumb as a brick, but observant enough to give troop positions and munitions away.” The holoform huffed. “Nearly got my team killed for a couple grand.”

Sam winced. “Primus, I'm so sorry. I would never--” 

Will raised a hand, “None of this was your fault, you couldn't have done anything different. We knew better and we still nearly got our asses handed to us. If Epps and I hadn't been there it could easily have gone a very different way.” He sighed. 

Sam paused, confused by that choice of language, before turning his head and gazing at the General with real interest. “Because of you?” He asks, pointedly. 

Tensing up, Will took a long moment before he was able to loosen his muscles with a sigh and gave Sam an exasperated look. “Don't know what it is about you kid, but I shouldn't have said that.” Lennox, the General, admitted.

Giving Will a look, Barricade tilted his head towards Sam. “He's one of you, he should know.” 

“Know what?” Sam asked before Will could respond.

Giving first Sam a look, Will shifted his gaze to Barricade. “He doesn't have the clearance yet. Ultra Magnus doesn't want an insecure asset with more information than he's already got running around.” The man sighed, clearly not agreeing with that opinion himself from the way he was rubbing his jaw.

“He can shove it up his tail pipe. Sam's got a right to know at least this.” The mech's deep brown eyes squinted at Will. “Ultra Magnus isn't even in your command chain, this is Spark Touched business, he doesn't have jurisdiction.” The holoform argued. 

Will nodded, “Technically no, but Prime does and he agrees to the wisdom of holding off till Sam is safe in Diego Garcia.” Came the tired reply. “I don't know what specific benefit it would offer now, anyway, he's probably a different type regardless.” Will finally cut Sam a glance. “It's not personal, probably not even relevant yet, but there's a reason why Epps and I are particularly helpful to have around.” He explained by…not explaining. 

Sam opened his mouth to argue but the thought of hashing that out when he was so tired sounded even more exhausting so he yielded the point to the General. “Do we know why they were working together? If M.E.C.H. wants mechs, why not just…double cross the Hustles Decepticons? They seemed...kind of dumb enough that with some strategic thinking it wouldn't have been hard with the kind of firepower we saw last night.” He wondered, taking the option of circling back later, potentially when Will wasn't present.

Taking the win, Will frowned. “We assume that it was a mutually beneficial agreement kind of situation. The Decepticons get a few Spark Touched, and M.E.C.H gets the rest of the Cybertronians. It's a big escalation for them, usually they gang up on a single target and overwhelm them but they came in swinging this time. Multiple helo's, ground assault forces, even a belay team. We were particularly lucky that Bluestreak was there, they didn't even know about the nullifiers or we'd be dealing with a whole new set of problems.”

“The sniper on the ridge.” Sam said, connecting the dots. “Bluestreak was out there?” 

Both men nodded, before Barricade spoke. “We had multiple auxiliary forces stationed throughout the area which was how we received any early warning. If they'd got the drop on us it would have gotten ugly.”

“Arcee, Chromia and Elita-One were stationed on the roadways and in town and were our early response team. We had Bluestreak, Hound, Bulkhead and Hotshot stationed outside of the dead zone in camouflage as soon as we realized that we were going to be sticking around longer than we'd originally anticipated.” Will explained. Sam remembered the array of vehicles when they’d first arrived but had easily overlooked and dismissed them with everything going on. He probably shouldn't have.

There was a weighted pause, the General and whatever Barricade counted as in this world because he seemed to have gotten a leg up rank wise from whatever he’d been before, eyeing each other in what Sam instantly knew was a ‘You do it’ type manner. How long had these two been…whatever they were? Knowing that the dread was worse than the reveal ever was Sam butted in.

“Just out with it guys: my house is destroyed, potentially all of my worldly possessions are also gone save a car I can’t drive safely, I’m wanted by only Primus knows who, and I am being kidnapped to one of the most remote islands in the world.” He huffed. “I’ve checked, it's number 8.” He informed them, aiming for at least a little bit of levity even though he was exasperated by how quickly everything could change and how little control he had over it.

Lennox, the General, seemed to lose whatever contest the two were having because he turned to Sam. “With…everything that happened last night, we believe that the best move going forward is to quietly announce the untimely death of Samual James Witwicky in an unfortunate propane explosion.” He informed Sam. “You’re nearly 80, now, and this ties up a lot of the inconvenient loose ends that we were trying to figure out during the last few days.”

Staring at the two of them, trying to figure out if he had lost the plot or suddenly got the plot, Sam pressed his hands to his eyes. “The solution is to…like, kill me? Administratively speaking?” He asked.

Will gave a long huff. “Epps and I have to do it every 10 years or so at this point, at least from a US military perspective. I’m the 3rd grandson of myself at this point.” He shrugged when Sam looked up at him in startlement. “Everything that was yours just gets funneled back to you as an inheritor, there’s a bonus for it by the Cybertronian consulate to cover any kind of inheritance tax.” 

Sam pressed his face to his hands again with a groan, suddenly realizing what that'd mean, “You don’t know my family. My cousin Bernice is going to try to contest whatever you do, like she did when my mom died. I was in a facility when...when it happened and not only did she not tell me, she extended my stay so that she could liquidate the entire estate and as acting power of attorney try to move all of my parents monetary assets and mine into Certificates of Deposit with a 30 year return, expecting me to be dead and her kids to be the inheritors when they finally matured. The reason that my moms picture was one of the only things that mattered at the house is because it’s the last thing I have of theirs.” Sam explained gruffly. “She’s going to want to steal everything all over again.” He whispered to himself. “I didn’t even get to go to my moms funeral.” 

Will’s face transformed into a still mask, but the…energy in the air felt furious.  

Barricade didn’t even try to hide his mortification and anger. “She did what?” As though he didn’t have perfect recall and Sam hadn’t just said it. “How is that permitted?”

Sam leveled Barricade a look, “I’m certifiably crazy, it means that I haven't been legally able to make a lot of decisions on my own. Or I hadn't. My position in society is incredibly vulnerable and rife for exploitation. I was under Bernice’s conservatorship for years before I was able to get a sympathetic lawyer to take my case and convince a judge that I was being exploited, which I was, and I was released from her clutches.” Sam explained to his equally mortified audience. “She didn’t even see me at any point in all that time, which is lucky in one way because I still looked like a kid and she’d have found some way to exploit that too. Maybe sell me to a science lab, I don’t know.” He huffed. 

“When I was under her ‘care’ she stole most of my assets as I made them and again, put them into Certificates of Deposit that were at least 30 years out and had me living in a shoebox apartment barely able to cover my rent, let alone anything else. It's a huge part of the reason I’ve been living in the woods for 20 years, because her family was sniffing around when they found out that my book series was making actual money and they wanted to get their hands on it.” He scrubbed his eyes. “All I’m saying is that she’s going to give everyone a fuck ton of trouble. My will and testament has her and her family very clearly written out of it but she’s going to be awful.” Sam finally settled on. “God I hate her.”

Will folded his arms in anger, trying to contain whatever furious movement he wanted to release. “Whatever kind of lawyer she can get isn’t going to be able to hold a candle up to Xaaron. He’s been acting as our legal advocate here for the last couple decades and he’s very good at his job.”

Pulling his knees up, Sam wrapped his arms around one. “So…what happens to everything?”

While Barricade still looked fit to return to being a Decepticon if only to remind cousin Bernice that there were worse things in the universe than ‘not getting her way’, Will at least took the out and went into further detail. “We’d first come up with a new identity for you, Sam something Witwicky probably, and build up an identity that sees that you’re at least 18 years old so you can inherit. While that is in process we’ll update your will digitally to list you as the inheritor, and then make a death certificate and funeral arrangements.” He was quiet, “It’s easier for a son to inherit than a grandson, and makes the paper trail simpler.” 

Sam squeezed his eyes shut, cringing at that. It made sense but that didn’t mean it sounded great for a 60 year old to be spawning kids. “What happens to the Valley?”

Barricade finally seemed ready to join the conversation again because he leaned forward onto his elbows. “The cleanup is going to be covered by I.C.E.R. and the US Government. With the amount of Energon components and Energon deposits in the area it’s going to be labeled a hazardous contaminant zone and we’ll sympathetically remove and replace what we can to return it to its pristine state. The property is yours but you can also tie it into the greater national park that you’re abutting to make sure that it remains pristine, or keep it.”

Frowning thoughtfully, Sam looked up at the two of them. “But I can’t really go back.” He said and after a moment Will shook his head. 

“No. It’s too vulnerable, like you just saw. It’d be at best a vacation spot or an investment property.” Will explained. 

Which Sam had guessed at, but still hurt. 

“I guess getting blown up by a propane tank is more interesting than a heart attack.” He mused. 

Barricade chuckled, “You’ll be in good company, Noah’s last ‘death’ was a water ski/hang gliding accident off the coast of Majorca, his body never found because sharks ate it. He and Mirage had entirely too much fun mocking up the police report and informing the news stations. Skids was in on it too though he was the one that had to fake the evidence on site, so the less fun part of the job.” He sighed with a smirk.

Will held up his hands, “I think IED’s are still the way to go.” 

Barricade gave the general an annoyed eyebrow. “And that’s why they call the Lennox line cursed, because you all die by IED.” Turning back to Sam, he reached over and gave Sam’s shoulder a squeeze which did feel comforting. “It sucks, but it’s going to be okay. It’ll take the heat off on the way back; the Hustle just lost at least two crew - they’ll think twice about going after us for just two Spark Touched, especially these two.” He indicated Will and the absent Epps.

Snorting, Will gave Barricade a shove. “I will have you know that I’m a fucking delight.” He joked. 

Rolling his eyes, Barricade gave Sam a dead eyed stare, “Yep, totally, that’s you, a delight.” He blocked the elbow Will aimed at his ribs before turning back to business. “The others from the protective detail are going to meet with us and be part of the convoy heading back. Even with just ‘two’ Spark Touched I don’t want to chance anything.” He huffed.

“When they catch up. We're going to head out first since we have the element of surprise on our side.” Will admitted. “You’re going to be released pretty soon and then we're getting out of Dodge and heading south. It's a 17 hour drive so we'll have to stop at least once but more likely twice.” The man sighed. “I'm not looking forward to the backache I'll be getting from all of this.”

In spite of the serious conversation Sam couldn't resist cracking a joke at Will's expense. “I thought old men complained about their hips. Or have you worn yours away?” He poked and Will shot him an amused but mock annoyed look. 

“Not exactly a spring chicken there yourself, Sam.” He pointed out.

Sam was about to respond when there was a knock on the door and First Aid popped the release for the door open to gain access. “Sitrep completed.” The man said, clearly annoyed he'd gotten stuck with the job. “You done here? I need to run some tests and change IVs.”

Barricade gave the medic a look, but the look First Aid gave him back seemed to change the big mech's tune and intimidate him enough to get up, smacking Lennox’s shoulder to get the General moseying along with him. Sam was amused to watch as his sweet medic power played the two ostensibly higher ranking commanders out of the hospital room. When they’d closed the door, Sam chuckled as First Aid actually ‘humphed’ after them before turning back to Sam with his very approachable face.

“You’re definitely a student of Ratchets ‘Try Me’ school of martial arts*.” Sam laughed.

First Aid quirked a brow at the smaller brunette, “It’s a bit easier when they know that you’re the one that will be pulling their ped out of their own tailpipe where you shoved it.” He said innocently and caused Sam to guffaw. 

“First Aid!” He chuckled, scandalized. 

The medic gave Sam a small wink before holding out his hands. “Hands.”

The medical assessment was more thorough than usual, even though the vast majority of his systems could be and were available via scan. Still, having gone through enough assessments over the years, Sam went through the motions to assure the medic that he was functional as best he could given the circumstances. 

Having gone through a full manual assessment, including making Sam push and pull his hands in different directions, First Aid finally seemed satisfied and instead of looming over Sam he sat in the chair that Barricade had abandoned in his haste to remove himself from the irritated medic. Able to lean back in the bed once more, Sam closed his eyes tiredly, just feeling for a minute.

Quietly, Sam whispered more to himself than to First Aid, “I wanna go home.” 

First Aid made a quiet noise of acknowledgement, before sighing and leaning forward. “I know. I wish I could take you home, even, but I can’t and you can’t. It’s now a brownfield and will probably be under remediation for the next couple of years.” He sighed. “If you still want to have a house there, we can drop one once it’s back to pristine condition?”

Sam shook his head. “No, I want it to go to the national park and be protected.” He said quietly, “Same with the car. There’s a car museum in Reno that preserves cars for movies and stuff. I’m not bringing the Zephyr to an island in the middle of the Indian Ocean - it’d melt.” He sighed, rubbing his face. “It’s all gotten so complicated. I’m dead now too I guess?” He laughed humorlessly. 

First Aid made a noise, clearly displeased, before sighing. “Those rusty cam shafts, we were supposed to talk about that in the debrief.” He cut a glare at the door. “What do I know, though, I’m just a medic.” He groused before turning back to Sam. 

“We do, I’m afraid, have to talk about something that is of a more delicate nature, and it involves our little friend there.” He tipped his head apologetically to the small lump under the blankets that Sam was using his body to obscure.

Feeling weary suddenly in a new way, Sam scowled, but didn’t say anything. First Aid was quiet, before he sighed.

“Sam, how much do you know about sparking? How the AllSpark produced sparks?” He asked gently.

Shrugging, Sam pulled on the covers to raise them higher. “Something channels Primus’s energy, it’s one of a few ways to create a spark. It imparts life into a vessel and…well, we get you guys.” He said, gesturing at First Aid.

Nodding, First Aid gave Sam an encouraging look. “May I see them?” He asked gently, indicated the WayStation.

Sam didn’t want to, but...he had never known what went wrong, what happened, and First Aid was…he was honorable and treated Sam like he wasn’t crazy and Sam needed that right now. Gingerly, he pulled back the blanket and picked up the small WayStation and handed them to First Aid. 

“I don’t know what I did wrong.” He whispered as the medic took the small console and carefully ran a slow scan over the casing.

After a long moment, First Aid held the console back to Sam who pulled them close in his lap, as though that would do something, protect them somehow.

First Aid’s blue eyes were soft, compassionate in a way that wasn’t entirely programming to mimic humans, as he folded his hands in his lap. “Sparks are very delicate, despite how they have often been treated in the past by the likes of Nova Prime and his expansionist fellows.” Sam had a brief flash of a dark mech and a lust for power that rivaled Megatrons. “They need many, many things to go right to have a chance to establish and thrive. Many of our cold construct people still struggle because they were given the absolute bare minimum to come online and nothing to supplement; it’s one of the reason's so many joined Megatron in the first place.” He explained quietly.

“Our little friend here…well, they didn’t even have the minimum requirements needed to survive.” He murmured, reaching forward and gently clasping Sam’s forearm in comfort. “They weren’t built to be compatible with life. Their internal structures are simply too underdeveloped.” He sighed. “Sam, you did nothing wrong. The AllSpark charge to effectively overcome all of the structural differences between human hardware and a prebuilt sparkling frame would have been much more than you could relay now, let alone when this happened.” He explained. 

Sam felt his eyes burn and held the WayStation closer, “But…but they were fine. We played.” He felt like a skipping record.

Giving up on distance, First Aid rose to settle on the side of the bed, hand on Sam’s shoulder a warm weight. “They felt no pain. Their spark survived as long as it could with just its initial charge, but that’s all they could have ever had. One perfect day with you, then go to sleep.” He said quietly. “I’m so sorry, Sam, I know that bringing this up with everything else going on hasn’t helped. But there is no blame here, no one did anything wrong. These kinds of things simply happen sometimes.” He reiterated. “You did your absolute best, you can’t be expected to do more.”

Bending forward, Sam pressed his forehead into the holoforms shoulder. “They were the only thing I had that was real.” He whispered quietly. “Everyone else said I was crazy and then…there they were, they were just…perfect and then they were gone.”

First Aid clasped his palm around the nape of Sam’s neck and held him there, the touch grounding and calming, even through the collar still around his throat. 

First Aid was pensive for a long moment. “They’re why you deliberately had no technology in the house, aren’t they?” He asked, but it wasn’t really a question.

“I couldn’t make another one, not and watch them die again.” Sam whispered around the feeling of a ball lodged in his windpipe.

They sat quietly for a short time, letting Sam calm down a little, wrapped in the warmth that was First Aid.

“Did they have a name?” First Aid asked into Sam’s ruddy curls finally.

Sniffling, Sam nodded almost imperceptibly. “I called them ‘Toast’, because they liked the toaster so much.” He wetly whispered.

Sam could feel First Aid’s lips curl in a smile against his scalp. “It’s a cute name.” He said quietly. “I was privileged to see your Temple of the Valley--” Which sounded classier than it was, “--and would like to offer to hold Toast in subspace until a better resting place can be found.”

Giving a quiet, sad little noise. “Yeah, yeah, I trust you to keep them safe.” He choked.

While Sam couldn’t see First Aid, he could feel the pulse of [conviction][humbled][protective][honored] across his senses from the bot at that admission.

-----------

He shook his head; even as the helpless desire to run, to be free of all of this pulled at him, he knew he couldn't go now. He was just…he was just Sam, he wasn’t sure why this always seemed to happen to him, why his destiny seemed to be tied with these sentient mechanical beings, but it was. 

“Sam?” Frenzy’s voice called from the entrance to the bathroom hallway.

Turning, Sam blinked at the little blue eyes of the blond boy. Huffing in exasperation, the holoform stomped down the hallway in annoyance. “You humans, you take so long to do anything.” He complained, taking Sam's hand and tugging. “C’mon. First Aid says you need one of those glucose pack things.” He admonished. 

Sam went along obediently, kind of charmed in spite of himself at the huffy little con. Sam could see what Barricade meant though about Frenzy liking the conductive signals because he could feel Frenzy’s as well. He could also feel that Frenzy was actually…in(?) his holoform, physically, folded up into a suitcase sized unit suspended within the holoform boy's torso.

Pulled through the Dollar General, he guessed that if he was going to be tied to these guys, the least he could do was enjoy the ride. Giving the little con’s hand a squeeze Sam interrupted his grumbling, which had switched to NeoCybex and was rather unflattering to say the least, and smiled at the narrowed eyes that turned to him. “Thanks for coming to get me.”

Not just from the hallway.

Chapter Text

While their initial escape had necessitated the use of separate vehicles, for the first leg of this part of the journey at least Will wanted Sam a close to him as he could get. Sam, though he was feeling better than he had in recent history physically felt like complete garbage emotionally. Part of him knew it was shock; his entire life had literally ended in a lot of ways in a short amount of time after all and he hadn't really had any opportunity to process that. He'd also nearly frozen to death and only weird space God power had kept him from doing that. Again.

It hadn't helped that he’d been disappointed to see that a lot of the obituaries about his life that Frenzy had helpfully pulled up for him had spent a lot more time talking more about his madness and reclusiveness than anything else. Like, he got it, it was a particularly compelling narrative but maybe focus on his work a little more? He’d sold nearly 37 million books over 55 years after all and that felt pretty impressive, something to be emphasize somewhere in these blurbs at least. His mom would have thought that that was impressive. 

However, the common portrayal painted him as a ‘complicated’ recluse with an abstruse history. The more in depth articles had gone into his early years, his multiple commitments, his parents passing, the subsequent years under conservatorship and the legal case that freed him before speculating wildly about his life out of the public eye when he'd vanished into the wilderness.

There were photos of himself that he had quickly scrolled over. 

After he’d moved to the country there had been little to share for publicity, a fact that he'd been incredibly thankful for. The publisher handled all of the PR and live readings, even though he wasn't the one doing them. He'd never done them, and he was fine with the lack of engagement if it meant he didn't have to stand in a room with people staring at him. The possibility of having a fit or a vision was too high to ever even consider it, even if he had wanted to. Which he hadn't. He'd rather fight Megatron all over again, naked.

The lack of public presence, however, did have it's downsides. There were quite a few statements from people in town he didn’t know about him, some that he did. Dave the Delivery Dude, who had blabbed to M.E.C.H. and been the quintessential ‘loose lips sink ships’ poster child, was even prominently featured because he was one of the few people who knew him and he hadn't even needed a book deal to do a tell all, though any mention of Sam's 'young appearance' had been spun to being 'young looking for his age', which Sam admitted in an extreme way was at least true.

One thing that Sam was certain of was he was going to be very glad not to deal with Dave ever again. Man, fuck that guy. 

Standing outside of the Dollar General, Sam stuffed his hands into his new hoodie pockets as Frenzy went to open the door to Barricade and crawled like a monkey over what looked like 'rich Corinthian leather*' bucket seats into the back of the vehicle. Will was already in the driver's seat and Sam paused on the curb.

It wasn’t that he thought that Barricade, this Barricade, wanted to kill him. It was more of a…weariness that he was possibly going to do something to set the Mech off. Turning to the hood, Sam dithered for a moment and Barricade shifted on his shocks. “Problem?” The mech asked.

Sam hunched his shoulders, “I…is it okay, I mean, to ride with you?” He asked politely. 

He’d driven over in Skids, since Will had needed to finish a phone call with his leadership. It had been weird, but nice, to just have Skids and First Aid take him through a Burgerville drive through. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had fast food and although First Aid had limited the menu (First Aid hadn’t been very specific but Sam had figured out that the seizures and growing a neural network of protoform filaments weren’t the medics only medical concerns for him) to healthy options but Sam didn’t really care. He’d eat a burger made with cauliflower bread and mushroom proteins as long as it tasted like a burger. 

First Aid hadn’t complained when Skids had included a hazelnut milkshake with the order.

That being said, Sam had never driven with Barricade. Barricade opened his door widely for Sam, twisting his wheels a bit. “Yeah, fleshling, get in. Even if you are a literal eyesore right now. Don’t drag dirt onto the carpets.”

Sam felt the pulse of [censure] from First Aid and barely made out ”::Slagger::” from Skids as a certain motorcycle growled throatily from across the parking lot. 

Sam, however, in a weird way, found it comforting that Barricade was still Barricade even if he wasn’t out to actively kill him. Chuckling, Sam climbed into the passenger seat while Will thumped Barricades dashboard. “Play nice, ‘Cade.” He grumped at the mech. The rumble Barricade's engine made through the cabin had a distinctive laughing undertone to it though. 

Pulling the seat belt on, Sam noticed that Frenzy was already sprawled out in the backseat with his switch out but that he hadn’t switched back from his holoform yet. “Aren’t you going to change back?” He asked the little mech curiously.

Frenzy didn’t even glance up from the screen. “Nah. My real form destroys your delicate gaming systems and I can turn down my holoform settings to within your species parameters.” He hummed, clearly engrossed in whatever he was playing. “I got put on a budget.” He groused in indignation.

Barricade had backed out and was navigating around the parking lot. Sam could vaguely make out the Cybertronians relaying information to each other through the nullifying collar but it was like listening to murmuring in another room. It wasn’t just between the five of them present either, Sam could hear Cliffjumpers mellow tones and once in a while Ultra Magnus and someone that could have been Prowl talking too. 

Pulling out a book, Will gave Sam a look. “Try to get some sleep, you look exhausted.” He advised and Sam's seat automatically folded back to have him in a supine position pointedly. 

Taking the hint, Sam laid Will’s jacket across himself and curled up in the seat. It wasn’t the most comfortable, the leatheresque seats were stiff, but Sam was so exhausted that that didn’t really bother him too much. Once they merged with the highway the road noise became constant and soothing as a white noise machine and that with the feel of the smooth ride, the warmth of the jacket, and the rumble of the engine interspersed with little noises from Frenzy as he played his game caused Sam to slip into sleep faster than he had anticipated. 

It was only midmorning when they left Rockport, but by a bit after one they hit traffic in the Seattle area. Since most of the cars were self driving, it wasn’t as bad as it could have been, but the volume of vehicles on the road meant that when Sam woke it was because they were in stop and go traffic, even on the toll roads out in Bellevue. Groggily blinking awake, Sam squinted first at Will and then out the window at the city skyline as they slowly rolled passed. 

“Seattle?” He asked, rubbing the heel of his hand into his eyes to try to force wakefulness back into his skull. 

Will, who was reading a mystery novel, nodded. “We should be here for a while. Traffic is red from here down past Tacoma.” He sighed. “I remember when you used to be able to drive from Lewis-McChord to Seattle in half an hour.” 

Snorting, Sam snuggled into the seat a bit more. “You can still do it at midnight with a lead foot. That’s faster than posted legal limits, General.” Sam sassed the older man, smiling a little bit. 

Rolling his eyes, Will turned a page in his book. “For most people, you’re only young once.” He sniped back and Sam flipped him off from under the man's own jacket. 

Frenzy chuckled at that, before pausing his game and turning to Will. “Aren’t you guys going to need calories soon?”

Sam felt more than heard First Aid, the echo of his communication soothing, confirm the need for a pit stop in the not so distant future. Will glanced at the dash, which had an infotainment system that was primarily dormant but for standard information like speed, fuel (full), revs and time. “It’s 1ish…let's wait till we’re out of Bellevue. There should be something in Renton or Kent that is acceptable.” He said, gazing at Sam for confirmation.

Shrugging, Sam closed his eyes again, “Sounds good.” He sighed as he snuggled into the seat and drifted back to not quite fully sleeping, but more than just dozing. The rocking motion of the car was pleasant; Barricade made no sudden stops but Sam could vaguely feel his long suffering annoyance at being stuck in traffic at all, a yearning for the open road. He and Skids were talking about something, but all that Sam could make out was that it was about some kind of race.

Memories of other races filtered through his mind. Cybertron, as a transforming mechanoid society with a preponderance of alt modes that involved transportation specific models, was obsessed with racing. It was no wonder that the vast majority of the sports or games had some kind of racing component. Or fighting. Or balls? Sam had been amused when in his last world Bee had explained that Cybertron had had its own version of both American Football and the Rest of the World Football. Bee and Ironhide would kick a wrecking ball around sometimes when they were killing time in the back of the Lennox’s homestead and Sam sleepily giggled to remember them even haranguing Optimus into playing for a little bit, though Ratchet had given a flat ‘Do I look like a sparkling to you?’ before disappearing into the barn where a Chevrolet project car had been slowly coming together during Will's infrequent visits home. 

Not opening his eyes, Sam yawned. “Hey Will? Do you still restore cars in the barn at your house?” He asked sleepily.

Will was quiet for a long moment, Sam unable to see the man looking through the windshield with a bit of a far away look in his eyes. “Nah. Sarah got the farm in the divorce.” Will explained in a subdued tone.

After a moment, Sam registered what Will had said and opened his eyes in confusion. Sarah and Will had been madly in love, the kind of love that you see in movies and while Sam hadn’t…well, he’d expected Sarah to be gone because Will was almost 100 and Sarah and him had only been a couple of years apart, but he hadn’t expected there to have been a divorce. Looking away for a second, Sam pursed his lips. “Oh, I’m really sorry Will.”

Frenzy and Barricade were suspiciously silent compared to Will’s pensive silence. After a long moment, Will breathed out a heavy sigh and gave Sam a look of an old hurt but also a need to be understood, possibly by one of the few people who still remembered his wife. “We loved each other very much, but she needed someone that she could grow old with.” He explained quietly. “I’d stopped aging. Epps noticed it first, actually. I thought it was bullshit…but I was running a 6 minute mile at almost 50. No new gray hair. No new wrinkles. Ray got a bit longer but me not aging clued him into him not aging.” He sighed. “They ran tests, of course, but no one knew why we'd stopped aging, just that we had. Other than being friends and on assignment together occasionally, we didn't have any significant overlap in our posts and no one else from our time together just wasn't aging. It became this big todo with the brass, but nothing ever came from it other. No one could identify what was happening, just that it was.” 

The General folded his empty hand over the one holding the book and looked out the wind shield. “When COVID hit and Sarah lost more than a handful of family members, got sick as a dog herself and realized how fragile mortality is, and suddenly knew that I wasn't going to grow old and die with her…well. Her priorities changed.” He was quiet. “She didn't want me to be stuck taking care of her as she grew old and eventually died.”

Sam's hand reached out of its own accord and pressed to the other man's forearm. “Oh Will.”

Glancing over at Sam, the man raised a hand and covered Sam’s before giving it a squeeze. “It's been about 45 years, but it's not really a pain that just goes away. Just gets more bittersweet with time. It didn't even matter. in the end. She died in 2030 in a car accident; she was just over 50. So much pain and suffering when we could have lived to the fullest for a few more years.” He sighed. “I didn't fight it as much as I should have, to make her understand that I didn't care if I had to take care of her at the end, that I had signed up for the long haul and I meant it. She was always the best part of me and I'm less of a person without her.” 

Sam didn't really get it, personally. The only person he'd ever even dated had been Mikaela and as an adult he knew that his connection to her had started as obsession and matured into infatuation but that it was never real love. It wasn't love in the way that Will and Sarah had had, and after he'd arrived to this world he'd just never been interested in anyone. He hadn't been looking for anyone else either. Romantic love just didn't matter to him anymore.

But Will knew what true love was like, and what true loss was like. Sam could see that Will, even now, loved Sarah so much that it hurt. For the first time he really understood what having your heart go out to someone was, because he felt heartsick for Will in that moment.

Instead of saying anything, Sam tipped his head to lay his forehead on the back of Will's hand over his own and rested it there. It should have been weird, it was intimate in a way that two strangers shouldn't be, but it felt right. Pure, in its own way. 

Mourning what could have been but wasn't. 

After a minute Sam pulled back and sat fully in his seat, Barricade leaning it forward silently so Sam could sit like a person again. 

Will closed his eyes and tipped his head back, but the tension in the car eased. Something tight in Will untwisted a bit. The old pain wasn't cured, could never be cured, but it eased like an elastic band given slack before it could break. 

Sam gave Will's forearm another squeeze, gentle, before releasing him. ‘I'm here.’ it said. ‘You aren't alone.’ 

While Sam admittedly wasn't the best at picking up what was being laid down, he did notice that Barricade sank slightly in his shocks, and that his aura felt vaguely…mellowed? It was incredibly confusing, didn't make sense in human terms, but it almost felt like the mech had just taken a benzo. 

Frenzy, too, had mellowed in the back and instead of the fighting games that he had been playing before, Sam could make out Animal Crossing in the little bit of screen he could see.

Seeing Sam's curious look, Will sighed. “It’s a Spark Touched thing. When we feel better, they kind of piggy back on the signal.” He said win a wan smile.

Barricade huffed, “Your fields interact with ours. Not our fault.” 

Will snorted a laugh, reaching over and patting the dashboard. “Yeah, ‘course not.” He sassed the former con, “Doesn't mean you don't enjoy it.”

From the backseat Frenzy tutted, “We didn't take a vow of chastity. We are absolutely going to enjoy riding your wave of positive energy.” He snarked. 

Rolling his eyes, Will rolled his head against the leather of the seat. “The nullifier is blocking most of your signal, but they can feel some of you too. One of us has a big impact, even with you limited its still a noticeable bump in strength.”

Barricade hummed through the speakers, which vibrated through Sam's body. “You boost each other's signals.” He noted. “And that was a surge in schmaltz that I wasn't expecting.”

Will made a betrayed noise, but his expression belied that. “It wasn't schmaltzy.” He defended himself, and Sam was relieved to see that Will was able to bounce back from their conversation so easily. It also wasn't a front, Sam didn't think, for some reason feeling that Will was genuine in his banter with Barricade rather than using it as a mask like he was afraid Will would do.

Instead, for the next half hour the three of them: Will, Barricade, and Frenzy sassed each other like old friends while Sam got to sit in the gray light of the Pacific Northwest slipping through the illegally dark tinted windows. It was…relaxing, because they weren't excluding him but they also weren't forcing him to participate. 

In Federal Way they pulled off briefly to grab food at a small chain burrito place that Will apparently liked called Cafe Rio. Sam didn't really care; it had a clean washroom where he could wash his hands and face plus horchata so he was game.

Sitting in the restaurant, which still took orders by staff instead of kiosk like was more the trend these days, Sam felt vaguely drowsy still tucked between Skids and First Aid. Will was bookended between Frenzy and Barricade while Steeljaw’s holoform sat outside the windows in a chair looking like he was sucking down a soda while he was acting as auxiliary guard. Sam knew that Steeljaw was an outside contractor but it felt…weird to exclude him, somehow. Which was silly talk because Sam was aware that the mech wasn't to be trusted even as far as Sam himself could throw him in spite of recent developments and saving his life but...Steeljaw looked out for Steeljaw, first and foremost, and whoever he helped was only because there was a benefit for Steeljaw somewhere in the process.

Sam knew that better than anyone and yet. And yet.

Sam, not terribly hungry, had gotten a taco tray and was slowly working his way through his food, much to First Aid's not so subtle displeasure, but the mech didn't comment on it. 

The conversation around the table was mostly focused on sitrep with Will since he didn't have his normal communication HUD. Ray and his band of merry bots were leaving Sam's valley and would be rendezvousing with them South of Salem if the traffic didn't necessitate an earlier cut off sometime that evening.

“The whole route is a fragging cluster smelt.” Barricade grumped. “Civil engineers didn't have a goddamn idea what they were doing.” 

Skids twisted in a way that would have been normal for someone stretching lower back muscles, but amused Sam because the holoform didn't have those. “Mech, right? No clear sailin’ till we almost to base. Waste, man, these roads is better than freaking Cali.” He sighed.

Sam, having grown up in California, rolled his eyes. The stereotype of California forever having bad roads was as annoying as it was true. He'd not been back in the state for nearly thirty years but it sounded like some things hadn't changed.

“Roads are still rough?” He questioned, just for clarity.

All of the mechs with vehicle alt modes grimaced and collectively made motions of assent. 

“I had to reconstruct Hound's back axle because of how much ‘road debris’ got caught up in it.” First Aid said in an aggrieved voice. “He likes to spend his off time exploring but the roads are worse than off-roading.” 

Sam laughed, “Please tell me he is still obsessed with Xenofauna.” He joked, poking at his rice though the only thing that he was continuing to consume was the horchata. 

Frenzy rolled his eyes, “It was the only thing he was willing to talk about while we were stuck in the hills waiting for your prototype. ‘Chipmunk’ this and ‘Bluejay’ that.” He made a yapping motion with his hand, pulling it away from his game console though his eyes remained affixed to the screen. “I reminded him he can’t bring anything back, not after last time.” He huffed.

Sam frowned, curious, and the others adopted long suffering looks. “Last time?”

Skids coughed into his hand, “He hit a deer one night. Brought it ta base for First Aid to fix.” He chuckled.

“I’m a doctor, not a veterinarian.” First Aid said in a tone of voice that took a second for Sam to realize he was referencing the first Star Treks Deforest Kelley, the original Dr. Leonard McCoy. It was amusing, funny even, to find that First Aid was at least a little bit of a Trekkie.

Will pointed his fork at the mech, “Didn’t stop you from actually doing it though.”

First Aid raised his hands in surrender, “Just because I’m not a veterinarian doesn’t mean that I can’t do the job in a pinch. You may be phenotypically disparate but that doesn’t mean your underlying systems are inherently dissimilar. It was really just a minor surgery and then a few days of observation before sending them to the rehabilitation center in Redding.” First Aid shrugged. “The vet records indicate that they made a full recovery, but it’s not something I expect to be dedicating time to. The humans take up enough of that as is.” He said, leaning to the side slightly and bumping Sam’s shoulder, though instead of [reprimand] like he'd expected, Sam felt [humor] and [affection] instead.

Smiling a bit shyly, Sam just drew his drink closer and subtlety moved a little closer into First Aid’s space.

The rest of the drive was much the same. It was getting dark out before they’d really even cleared Lewis-McChord Air Force Base, though they still had hours of driving yet to do. 

Frenzy managed to badger everyone in the car into watching a movie on Barricades infotainment screen, some show about a security android who had broken it's programming and instead of killing all of the humans who had exploited it just wanted to be mostly left alone to watch its shows in peace but kept getting pulled into hijinks and shenanigans by the same humans that it didn’t kill.

Sam found the show rather charming, actually. Frenzy was apparently a big fan, he’d read the original stories and from what Sam was able to gather was very active in the fan works communities for the show.

Barricade, though he didn’t say anything other than mildly grumbling about being used as a TV, seemed to be enjoying the show as well - though mostly the explosion and murder bits.

They made it to Woodland Washington by the time Sam was really passing out and Will was rubbing his eyes to stay awake. First Aid made the executive decision to pull off and in short order Sam found them parked in front of a Comfort Inn, blinking awake with difficulty to see First Aid leaving the lobby with a set of key cards as Will yawned next to him. Skids and Steeljaw were parked towards the entrance, though both holoforms detached from their alt-modes to join the rest of them. 

“Got any preference for food?” Skids asked Will and Sam.

Yawning into his hand, Sam shook his head. “I just wanna go to bed.” He managed.

First Aid narrowed his eyes at the teen bodied man, “And you’re nowhere near your caloric needs for the day. You’re eating something or I’m inserting a feeding tube, your choice.” He said, smiling pleasantly at Sam. 

Jerking away from the medic, Sam almost ran into Will who maneuvered him to the General's other side. “Epps should be arriving in about--” he checked his frankly outdated wristwatch, “--four or so hours. Any Italian around here?” The General asked. 

“Filipay’s Italiano Restaurante? It’s not far, decent reviews on Zoodle.” Skids offered. 

Sam shrugged but Will nodded. “Carbonara if they’ve got it, stuffed shells for Sam with whatever white sauce they might have. Eggplant parmesan for Ray - of course.” He joked and the others chuckled, but Sam was too tired to get clued in on the joke they were referencing.

First Aid gave his nod of approval to Skids before shuffling Sam inside the motel and down the corridor to a room, pulling Sam’s backpack off his shoulder. He handed Will his own card and indicated the room next door before the team broke up. Sam stumbled into the room and fell face first into one of the queen beds there, groaning in relief as his lower back was able to decompress finally after such a long day. 

Any car, but particularly a muscle car, wasn’t really meant for long journeys and other than lunch and a couple of pee breaks Sam had spent more time in Barricade than he had in any vehicle in decades. And it showed.

First Aid chuckled at him before giving his thigh a small smack. “Take a shower, I’ll hook you up to the IV afterwards and then some food.”

Groaning, Sam rolled onto his side. “Can’t I just…sleep?”

First Aid shook his head, “Even with the glucose packs your blood sugar is tanking. It’s being utilized proportionately quickly to how much is available in your system, but that does have the reciprocal effect that we need to give you more to sustain you.” He explained. “Your lethargy is a direct result of the process.”

Scowling, Sam rolled back onto his front and lay there for a long minute before First Aid smacked his thigh again. It wasn’t hard, but it was pointed, and reluctantly Sam forced himself to standing again. 

Either he’d had a microsleep or First Aid had been incredibly productive because his hygiene items were on the sink vanity in the bathroom and pajamas were neatly folded on the toilet lid when he made it into the room, closing the door behind him.

It was comforting that the bathrooms of today were not much different from the bathrooms of his childhood. With everything else that changed, the only difference being the temperature slider next to the spigot in the bathroom being digital was a welcome relief. On one level, the state of technology was a masterpiece, on the other hand it was a lot and made him nervous in the way he'd used to find amusing in old people when he was a kid.

The irony was not lost on him.

He’d distanced himself from tech after he’d made Toast, for obvious reasons, so a lot of the new technology was completely foreign to him. The motel was, luckily, not a super fancy facility so he didn’t have to worry about the best and the brightest tech installs, but he wasn’t sure if they weren’t there or if he just hadn’t noticed them yet.

He comforted himself that so soon after a seizure he should be empty of AllSpark juice, but part of him was still weary of being near anything so sufficiently advanced. What if…what if he did it again?

The shower was blisteringly hot and Sam allowed himself to be distracted getting the road feel out of his muscles and to loosen up some tight knots. He scrubbed his hair and his face, noting that the little bit of scruff he did have (thank you VERY much, Will) could probably do with a shave in the next few days.

When he got out of the shower he paused, looking at the misty version of himself in the mirror for a moment before deliberately looking away, grabbing his towel and scrubbing the water and to a lesser extent the dead skin off his form. Dressing in the pajamas offered and his new yellow hoodie was a comfort to him as he left the steamy room without brushing his teeth. 

If he was going to have to eat something he didn’t want to have to do so and have everything taste vaguely like toothpaste.

When Sam popped the door open, it was to a full house. Skids had gotten the Italian food and even though only Will and Sam were going to eat, and even though there wasn’t a real dining area, the doors between their rooms had been opened and the chair from Wills room was added to Sam’s desk area so that they’d have a little dining table while Barricade was looking over Frenzy’s shoulder on the far bed as the smaller bot showed the big scout something in his game while First Aid was setting up an IV on stand and Skids, Will, and surprisingly enough Steeljaw were arguing about the set up of the dining area. 

First Aid smiled at Sam before directing him to the bed to sit. “You don’t have to take the sweater off, but I’m going to need access to your IV port.” He said and Sam shoved the oversized cuff up his arm so First Aid could hook the IV cannula to his port. Seeing the bag begin to empty, First Aid subspaced a couple of additional syringes and Sam noted the color of one of them as the appetite promoter and the other he wasn’t sure about.

Seeing Sam’s raised eyebrow, First Aid held up the unknown medication. “Low potency benzo. Even though you’re tired you’re in a new environment and your anxiety levels are elevated. Just something to take the edge off.”

Which…fair.

The Italian was good, and about ten minutes into eating Sam finally developed an appetite and rather than poking at the food was happily eating his clamshell of cheese and meat raviolis practically bathing in alfredo sauce. Once he started eating happily a bit of tension that he’d barely noticed left the room. 

“So, from what Prowler said ta me, it sounds like the UN‘s on board with recognition.” Skids said, laying on the bed closest to the door with his hands folded on his stomach. “Him an’ Xaaron got ‘em eating outta their hands.” He joked.

Steeljaw, leaning against the wall near the door for lack of space, made a huffing sound, “Recognition doesn’t mean much without membership. Taiwan is still only recognized and it continues to deal with hostility from China.” He huffed. “While we’re the first galactic neighbors to say ‘hello’, we’re not going to be the last.”

Barricade, hands folded behind his head on the other bed, rolled his eyes. “We’ve got quite a bit more backing than Taiwan, and we are down to play with the locals in exchange for trade.” 

Will pointed his corn based plastic fork at Barricade, “Which is part of the problem. They don’t know you like we do. These stuffed shirts are both exciting because, you know, ostensibly peaceful super advanced mechanoid aliens are offering to establish trade relations but also: Independence Day.” He stuffed another bite of food in his mouth.

Sam chewed on his noodles, washing it down with a sip of Italian soda. “At least you guys didn’t destroy an entire American city.” He reasoned. “So, you know, you have that going for you.” He said with a bit of levity. 

Will crossed himself, “Thank Primus for small miracles. I’m just glad that all of the shenanigans have been isolated to space, international waters, and base.” He sighed. “I don’t need to see Bulkhead getting into an argument with someone and decide the most expedient method is to throw them as far away from himself as possible. Again.”

Frenzy chortled, “Sure taught Wheelie to watch his mouth though.” He gave a wicked grin, “After he found it again.”

Sam perked up, “Wheelie’s still kicking around?”

Skids used his hand to wave, “Little drone is useful, if annoying. You knew ‘em?”

Sam nodded, “Yeah, he was surveilling me. Ended up getting caught, defected. It was…wild. He ended up humping my girlfriends leg. Which…above all else was just incredibly confusing, and she didn’t particularly enjoy it.” He said, thoughtfully, having not thought about that in decades. 

Pulling a face, Skids flopped back on his back, “Honestly I woulda expected that from Brains, little perv.” He grumbled. “You know him too?”

Sam shook his head, “If he’s a friend of Wheelie’s then I’m probably better off not.” He laughed. “Do you really benefit from being a member of the UN? It’s the United Nations and you guys aren’t really limited by that.”

First Aid checked Sam’s IV bag, which was about half empty by this point. He adjusted something and the pace slowed. “It's about giving us access to the plethora of negotiation platforms your governments have primarily ironed out between themselves, otherwise we’d have to negotiate with every member individually and that would prove to be both resource intensive and less rewarding. Since ceding Diego Garcia to the Cybertronian Delegation in exchange for resources, we now meet the requirements to be acknowledged as a country.”

Will nodded, counting off on his fingers. “There is a defined territory, there is a settled population, there is a government, and now we can and want to enter into relations with other nations.” He listed. “It’s managing the big reveal that Diego Garcia is run by Cybertronians that we’re sussing out. There are clearly humans involved but Diego Garcia is considered Cybertronian soil on Earth.”

Sam remembered the unfriendly response by the news to the reveal on his world and winced. “Just be glad that Bill O’Reilly’s long dead, he hated you guys, really stirred up a shit storm. Him and Hannity basically got most of their ratings from tearing you metaphorically to pieces every night, really made Fox News a mint.” He sighed, losing his appetite even with the appetite stimulant at the reminder. “It really sucked, my dad used to watch it in the house and so Bee and I would just take these long drives to get away from everything. That was nice.” He frowned, “Don’t ignore conservative media - I know now that it’s kind of shrunk since the major news outlets are owned by corporations like Relentless and stuff, but that xenophobia is really dangerous.” He explained to his ravioli’s, rubbing his thumb against the corn plastic fork anxiously. “I don’t want to see you guys hurt like that again.”

First Aid set his hand on Sam’s shoulder. “We know, we are just as concerned. We have the best, and the brightest, handling this. We’re still nervous, as you can tell, but we’re hopeful.” He said and Sam nodded.

The party didn’t last much longer after that. Sam was tilting into his ravioli when he was finally released from the IV and the threat of a feeding tube to go brush his teeth for bed. Tugging the hoodie sleeve down fully, Sam stumbled to the bathroom to do just that.

When Sam came back, the room was tidied and cleared out save for First Aid who was looking through the first few pages of the second Dune novel. Sam felt relieved to see it, a little reminder of the home he used to have, and collapsed into the cheap memory foam mattress. While he was feeling less bone weary exhausted with both the rally bag and the food in his stomach, he was still at normal levels of exhaustion.

“Stay?” He mumbled into his pillow, directed at First Aid.

Sam felt a small burst of [affection] from the medic who hummed. “I assume you are familiar with this novel? Steeljaw insisted on returning it.”

Curling up on his side, Sam nodded when he saw the book, possibly one of the only things from his house, that had survived. “Mmmm, I lent it to him. ‘S good.” He yawned, feeling the Sandman's grains of sleep sift gently into his eyes and mind. “G’night.” He got out, unsure if First Aid said anything in response. 

Sam was expecting a bit of a tumultuous night, even if he fell asleep quickly and easily. 

A bright light shining suddenly into his eyes, startling him, forcing Sam's arm to rise to protect them from the beam of brilliant white hadn't factored into his predictions. “Son? Are you okay? What’re you on?” Came a man's voice as someone else approached them, speaking quietly into a radio.

Waking up curled against a building, shivering, no idea how he got there with the police interrogating him was a worse nightmare than the ones he normally had. 

What?

Chapter Text

“Kid." The man's voice carried loudly enough that it caused Sam to flinch back in alarm, "What you are on? I need to know if I need to expedite the ambulance.” The man continued, the bright light blindingly omnipresent. “You on Bliss? Stardust? Yayo? Drex? Cristy?” The officer demanded so quickly that Sam couldn't even process if he was speaking English or not.

Sam pressed back against the building with enough force to wind himself, “I…no? What?” He covered his face from the brilliant torchlight, feeling utterly baffled. “Where’m I?” He frowned, scrunching his eyes closed. “I was...I was in bed?” He asked in confusion. Hadn't he? He had been in a hotel room, right?

The light moved out of his view and Sam carefully lowered his hands to squint his eyes open to see a squatting male officer and his partner, a Latina woman of about 40, speaking into her HUD headset a short distance away. “White male, approximately 15. Looks pretty rough.” She was saying into the earpiece. Which, rude, but also what?

The male officer, his badge reading ‘Hernandez’, looked Sam over through his own HUD glasses. “In bed?” He asked, drawing Sam's attention back to him in what should have been an obvious lead but Sam completely missed. The only thing Sam realized that he was shivering hard enough to chatter all of his teeth. 

Still, Sam nodded in bewilderment, focusing on the officer and wrapping his arms tightly around himself as he shivered. “Uhuh, I was in bed.” He agreed, utterly perplexed and so, so cold. “I need First Aid.” He said through his heavy shivering. His heart felt like a canary in a cage. 

The officer nodded, “We put in a call, ambulance should be here soon.” He reassured Sam, which relieved Sam because First Aid was coming. “Can you tell me your name? Your address? Phone number for a parent?” Officer Hernandez pressed.

Confused, cold and exhausted, Sam stared at Officer Hernandez blankly for a minute. “My house blew up.” Sam slurred out. "...what year is it?" He asked, suddenly petrified for a different reason.

That he was mostly sure had actually happened. Unless it hadn't. What if...was he in his home universe? The new one? The old one? A newer one? Sam couldn't do another world, not again, he just couldn't look into his mother's eyes and let her see the mess that he'd become. What kind of introduction would it be for the first thing for her to know is that he'd stated her home had exploded?

But if he was in his current universe, the one that he'd been a resident of for the last 60 years, that could be innocuous enough to say, right? At least, he was pretty sure he could say, houses blew up for many non-terrorist related reasons all the time. Well, not all the time, but often enough that it wasn't like, weird weird, right? People in the middle of the night could want to know what year it was for reasons other than interdimensional travel reasons, right?

That wandering train of thought stopped at another station when he realized that he had a bigger problem since he didn’t know what Will and the Cybertronian delegation had done systemically for/against him. Like, what had they decided his new name was? Was it still Samuel Witwicky or what? And he didn’t have a personal phone number, he didn’t know what Will’s was or if any of the Cybertronians even had their own cell phone numbers. Why would you when you could message across the globe naturally? That is, if they existed at all. What if they didn't? What if this was the Hoover Dam all over again?

He didn’t even know what name they’d used at the Comfort Inn or what room number they had been using. He didn’t know anything. This was the point that Sam realized he was in some kind of big trouble because he didn’t have anything but the name of their motel. 

Officer Hernandez was looking at Sam like he wasn’t sure that Sam was lying to him or if his house had actually blown up, and didn't know how to respond about the year question. Sam scrubbed his face, it felt like he was trying to think around the cotton in his brain. Why was thinking so easy and so hard? Why did he feel so awful? It was like he was in a Vision and trying to move against it while actually being perceived and it was terrible. 0/10, do not recommend.

“Okay, kid, okay.” Officer Hernandez finally said, before standing up and walking over to his partner who was standing a bit further back and conversing for a long minute while glancing back at Sam occasionally. Sam just curled up tighter, trying to preserve body heat, shivering silently. Everyone was going to be so pissed. He'd almost welcome it if that meant they were here, that they were real. Not that there wasn't a bigger issue: how did he even get here?

“Kid? What’s your name? How can we get a hold of your parents?” The female officers voice penetrated his drowsiness and Sam sluggishly turned his head which he belatedly realized had tipped forward at some point, blearily look up at her. Parents? The cotton fluff in his brain was worse now than it’d been a…minute(?) ago with officer Hernandez. “Mom?” He asked, because he always went to his mom, didn’t he? No, that wasn’t right, he hadn't in years, decades. “My moms dead.” He managed to mumble out through the thick tongue in his mouth.

Her face took on a look of sympathy, but the professional kind that he was used to from when he was in the psych hospital. “I’m sorry to hear that, hon. What about family or a guardian?”

Tilting his head onto his other knee so he could look at her without having to hold his head up, which was getting both progressively heavier and harder, Sam breathed out a sigh, which was easier now that his shivering was slowing down. “Maybe…Will? He’s at the Hotel…motel…inn…” He giggled a little bit. So many names for a place to rent. Why didn’t they go with something standard? Why so many options?

The officer looked him over before her eyes narrowed. “I need to know what you’re on, kid. I’m gonna need to take a cheek swab, okay?”

Blinking at her in confusion, Sam nodded. He got cheek swabbed before, it was standard procedure…”I need First Aid. I don’t feel good.” But at least his heart felt calmer, his breath more even, it seemed like his shivering was finally calming down and he didn't feel so cold anymore.

Her expression shifted to a frown of determination and came close to him. “You’re not going to hurt me, right? Otherwise I’m going to have to cuff you and I don’t want to do that unless it’s necessary, cool?”

Sam looked at her in utter bafflement, “Why would I want to hurt you?” He asked, trying to follow what was going on. Had he threatened her about the cheek swab? He didn’t remember doing that. That seemed completely out of character for him.

“I don’t know, but people do crazy things sometimes.” She explained, pulling on a pair of gloves from her utility belt, like Batman he thought with another giggle, and then a small sealed swab stick from another pocket. She came closer than either of them had gotten before and knelt in front of him. “Okay, kid, mouth open.”

Sam didn’t lift his head but opened his mouth, which caused her to frown but cheek swab him none the less. Once she was done she capped the swab and handed it back to her partner. “Not so bad. Now, you said that there is a Will at ‘the Hotel’, which hotel is that?”

Closing his eyes, Sam yawned. He was glad that he was warming up, making him even more tired. Shivering hurt and made him feel so shaky. “Uhuh.” He got out, tiredly. “Comfort Inn.”

She gave a low whistle. “That’s quite a bit away. And you walked here?”

Shrugging, Sam frowned. “Sleeping. I was…I was sleeping.” He tried to explain. “I’m so tired.” 

There were voices, but Sam was having a hard time following them. They sounded like they were discussing something before the man's voice sounded like he was on the phone. The few things that Sam picked up on were ‘teenager’, ‘reported in’ and ‘drugs’. Not that Sam was on drugs. Other than the ones that First Aid gave him. Did those count? They didn’t seem like they should, because they were given by a doctor. Wait, was First Aid a doctor? Did First Aid have a medical license? Did he count as a real doctor if he didn't? Sam hadn’t asked, but the idea that a Cybertronian had a legit human medical license suddenly seemed both important and impossible.

He was so ready to just go back to sleep, actually. He’d stopped violently shivering a while ago and right now he was just really sleepy. He giggled a little bit at that. Maybe he was sleepy enough that he wouldn’t have a night terror? That’d be nice, give First Aid a break. Break me off a piece of that…kit kat…bar…

Sirens in the distance forced his eyes open and he frowned at how stiff he was. 

The two officers were looking towards the approaching sirens in confusion. Confusion seemed odd. Sam tilted his head towards where the siren was coming from and noticed that it was approaching fast. Or he was just slow. He sure felt slow. 

The car that pulled up was black and white, screeching to a stop adjacent to the first police car. Doors opening, a familiar white officer made a beeline for officer Hernandez while a second, African American officer made his way to Sam.

It took Sam a really long moment to recognize Barricade's holoforms, like - way long, but when he did he felt a wave of relief surge through him. “‘Cade!” He chirped in sudden delight. They're here, they're here! They're real! The relief he felt was as overwhelming as his earlier confusion. Current confusion too.

Barricade’s expression, when Sam recognized it, was full of thunder. Surprised, confused, Sam leaned back from the mech as Barricade squatted before him. Barricade paused, hands out, at Sam’s reaction and took a centering moment to reign in his expression. “Sam, sweet spark, I’m not angry at you, okay?” He spoke quietly, like one would to a wounded animal.

“I dunno wat--” Sam slurred out, squinting his eyes shut in confusion. His mouth was just…it wasn’t working right. 

Holoform eyes narrowing, Sam could feel Barricade’s anger. “Sam, when did you stop shivering?” The holoform asked calmly. The sensation of him and the look of him completely at odds with one another. 

Feeling like a marionette with it’s strings cut, Sam laid limply against the stone building. “Dunno, while’go.” He mumbled through the marbles in his mouth.

Cursing in NeoCybex, Barricade tipped forward and gathered Sam up and into his arms. The holoform was practically boiling against him and Sam whined in discomfort.

“Hey! What the hell do you think you are doing?” Officer Hernandez demanded from where he was talking to Barricade's white bread holoform in outrage. 

Barricade turned and practically snarled at the two human officers, causing them to flinch back and hands to dart to their weapons. “He’s not slurring his speech because he is on drugs, you idiots, he’s slurring his speech because he’s hypothermic. His body temperature is in the 80’s.” He hissed as he hauled Sam to his alt form.

Hypothermic? The calm that Sam felt made sense then. Body shutting down. Bad, bad, bad, bad, baaaad.

Instead of setting him down into the bucket seat, Barricade’s holoform sat in the passenger seat of…himself, keeping Sam curled up in his arms as the door closed behind them. Tucking Sam’s forehead against his throat, the mech wrapped his arms securely around Sam’s torso and pressed his boiling hands to the exposed skin on Sam's hands as the heater in the cab kicked on to high. “Sam, can you tell me what happened?” Barricade asked, clearly upset. Why was Barricade upset?

Limply, Sam shook his head. “Wuz…I wus sleeping.” He tried to explain. “Then I wuz here.” He pressed closer to Barricade, scared. “Don’t understand.” He lamented. “Don’t un'erstand.”

Pressing a hot palm to the back of Sam’s nape, Barricade shushed him. “It’s okay, you’re okay. You’re safe now, I’ve got you.” 

Sam keened quietly but didn’t argue. Soon though, Sam scrunched his nose in confusion as he became aware of signals passing back and forth and even though they were distant echos, he could just make out the participants 'voices'.

#”::Status?::”# Came First Aids terse inquiry.

#"::Hypothermic, core temp is around 85 degrees. I’m warming him up, but he’s barely responsive. Confused.::"#

There was a flash of [concern][panic][anger][helplessness] before First Aid responded. #"::I’m less than a klik out. I’m calling everyone back to the meeting point.::"# The assent that Barricade sent following First Aid's message was quiet and Sam pressed closer.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you ::sweet spark[affection][fear]::, you’re going to be okay.” Barricade muttered into his hair, which felt crunchy for some reason. 

“‘m sorry.” Sam apologized. “‘m sorry.”

Barricade's hand pressed firmly against the back of Sam's neck and he felt a sense of calm wash over him as he was tucked into the safe darkness of the holoform's throat.

They were quiet for a long time, Sam just breathing in the warm air and the soft ozone smell that he’d unconsciously come to associate with holoforms, when he distantly heard another vehicle arrive. After a moment Barricade's passenger side door popped open and Sam made a displeased noise at the sudden burst of cold air against his back. Barricade wrapped his arms closer around Sam before someone else slipped their arms under his armpits and across his torso, pulling him carefully out of the car. 

Exhausted, confused, Sam tried to cling to Barricade but the arms were as strong as steel and then First Aid's voice penetrated his displeased whine.

“I've got you Sam.” He said quietly and Sam, registering that First Aid was the one behind him, stopped fighting however weakly he had been and went limp. First Aid would help him. Barricade climbed out right after him and between the two of them they looked mostly human as they loaded Sam onto First Aid's gurney before tucking a thick, already warm blanket around him. 

He lolled his head to the side watching detachedly as they loaded him up into First Aid’s patient compartment and only then did First Aid scan him, eyes narrowing and motions becoming more focused as he started pulling things out of compartments inside of his chassis. Barricade's eyes were gimlet on him, the feeling of [worry][fear] undeniable in the tight space. In quick order, Sam found hot packs shoved into all of his joints, including his groin, and First Aid pulling his sleeve down to get access to his IV port.

When the new cannula attached Sam hissed because the liquid inside felt molten hot. He tried to yank himself away from it as a reflex causing both First Aid and Barricade to hold him down and steady. 

“I know Sam, it's uncomfortable, but it's not burning you. The pack is warm to help warm you up.” First Aid said reassuringly to Sam's baffled face below him. “Just hold still for a little while. You've got hypothermia and we need to bring your temperature up, but not too quickly.”

“Burns!” He whinged miserably. Why was First Aid hurting him? He'd said he was sorry! He didn't mean to run away. Surely Barricade would have told him how sorry Sam was. 

When he caught sight of the medic from twisting it side to side, he looked sympathetic but determined as he pulled a mask out of a separate compartment and gently pressed it over Sam’s mouth. The air he breathed in felt hot like the desert. “I know. But you've been out here for nearly an hour and you've lost nearly 15 degrees of core temperature.” He explained. Not that Sam really understood what that meant. Nothing made sense but that he was burning and that First Aid was there. 

First Aid pressed his hand against Sam's forehead to sooth him as he kept Sam from fighting off his warming instruments. “Shhhh, you're okay. Just relax. You'll feel better soon.” He said and Sam reached his free hand up to hold First Aid's wrist, grounding himself. “You're okay, Sam, you're okay.”

Sam just whined. It was so hot. he burned. He felt like he was cooking alive in these blankets, with these heat packs, taking this IV fluid, breathing in the Sahara. First Aid hushed him, but for the next few minutes he might as well have been in hell. 

At some point First Aid dismissed a broody Barricade and the doors to the patient compartment closed, sealing them in as the heat kicked on and they started moving.

Time was a tricky thing for a while after that because even though he wanted to sleep, Primus somewhere out there in the depths of space did he want to sleep, First Aid kept him from doing so and thus he just had to lay there and suffer. For a while he just drifted in the confused discomfort until finally it seemed like the worst of it was passed. 

Someone was singing.

That was the first thing Sam noticed. His mind still felt muddled like ice in a glass, but it was diminishing slowly and as it was the singing became more distinct. 

"::...In the heart of Cybertron, where dreams ascend,

Stands a city of Crystal, where hopes contend.

Iacon's spires rise, touching distant umber skies,

In the glow of the future, we never say our goodbyes*.::"

First Aid. The mech had a distinctively soothing voice in NeoCybex, the multi-tonality of his native language resonated in Sam’s diaphragm and left a pleasant buzz there. It took longer by far that it should have to the exhausted human to realize it wasn’t the holoform who was singing, but the mechs alt-mode all around him. Sam made a noise, causing the holoform to squeeze him gently, a reminder that he was there.

“Firs’ Aid?” He mumbled out.

First Aid’s holoform, which had been a quiet weight again him and still like a doll set aside, roused to look at Sam like a puppet with it's strings suddenly pulled. “Hey.” There was a faint tingle and Sam realized that he was being scanned, “Core temperatures up to 94 degrees.” 

Releasing First Aid’s wrist, Sam brought his palm up to his face and scrubbed it. “What happened? I was sleeping.” He explained like a broken record. 

First Aid’s holoform looked shamed. “I am so sorry, Sam. I take full responsibility. Someone tried to break into my cab and I stepped out to take care of it. I couldn’t detect your departure because of your nullifier. You might as well have been a ghost to our sensors. The security cameras saw you walking down the corridor, but you weren’t ambulating normally.”

Sam frowned, “Sleep walking?” He asked in confusion.

The medic nodded. “We should have been able to track you but there were so few buildings along the route you took and fewer security cameras, none of which were networked.” He explained with clear contrition. "It should have never happened."

Bringing his hand to rest across his chest, where his heart was beating in a steady rhythm, Sam laid there quietly for a long minute before responding. “'s okay. Where’re we?” He asked finally. 

First Aid pressed the back of his hand to Sam’s forehead and the warmth of it no longer felt blistering but comfortable. “Back at the hotel. Everyone else has returned as well. They’re waiting until I give them the all clear to move you back inside.”

Swallowing around a dry throat, Sam looked up at First Aid with real worry. “What if I do it again?”

The holoform's face shifted in sadness and understanding. Expression shifting, the medics eyes turned thoughtful. “Tonight? We keep multiple people on you. In the future, Skids has some thoughts on how to prevent a reoccurrence. But that’s a problem for morning. Right now I just want to get you to an acceptable core temperature and into bed. Even with the dextrose bag you’re still processing the sugar too quickly and it’s not improving certain systems in a way that any of the literature explains or even acknowledges.” He lamented and Sam could see real frustration there.

Making a humming sound, Sam reached over and clasped the holoforms wrist. “You’re doing your best, First Aid. I appreciate it." He reassured the medic. 

First Aid nodded, running his hand through Sam’s hair to push it back from his face. “I know.” He sighed. “Do you feel like you can sit up?” He asked as he disconnected Sam from his IV bag.

Honestly, Sam didn’t feel like he could turn his head, but he tried anyway. The medic helped Sam when he struggled but by the time Sam was sitting up he was dealing with a massive headache that throbbed behind his eyes and aches and pains pulsing throughout his body, primarily in his lower legs, which only highlighted just how sore he had been before his little walk. The exhaustion was staggering. His recovery from the worst of the hypothermia the night before he’d been able to primarily sleep through, being ‘awake’ for it this time around sucked.

The knowledge that he’d had two cases of hypothermia in less than 30 hours wasn’t lost on him, and while he’d managed to walk away from the incident last night without much issue he wasn’t so sure his luck would hold out in this case. “I can’t make it.” He finally gasped out, tipping his head forward to thump against the holoforms sternum, mask pressing uncomfortably into his cheeks. “I can’t…”

First Aid hummed, hand reaching up to clasp Sam’s nape. “It’s okay Sam, you don’t have to do anything else, okay?” He reassured, pulling the mask off Sam’s face. Sam was shivering slightly, which was a good sign, and felt the blanket being pulled up to wrap around him. “I’m going to carry you to your room, okay?” Sam didn't even remember if he'd given ascent before they were moving.

In short order, Sam found himself carried back into the Inn and to the room he was using. He vaguely noticed other holoforms but just closed his eyes and turned his head into the soft feel of the medics shoulder. Not something he had the spoons to focus on right now. 

The door to his room opened and an anxious Will met them at the door and caught Sam’s eyes; Sam tried smiling but it wasn’t an amount of effort he could maintain for long as he limply rested his head against First Aid’s shoulder. 

First Aid let Will come close, checking Sam out personally. “Scared the living daylights out of us Sam.” The General admonished gently.

Sam made a sound in his throat, “‘m sorry, Will. I didn’t mean to.” He apologized weakly. “I don’t even know where I was.”

Pressing his palm to Sam’s forehead, the man's expression closed. “Nothing to worry about now. Back to bed is just what the medic ordered.” He said soothingly and suddenly between one breath and the next Sam was on the bed, staring around himself in confusion, but soon enough he wasn’t because he was no longer awake. It’s hard to be confused when you’re unconscious. 

He woke a few times during the night, a hand against his forehead, murmuring voices, he had to stumble to the toilet at some point because IV bags are a ridiculous amount of liquid to take in and then not immediately have to pee. 

“Sam.” Will called quietly. Sam, like anyone with a teenaged body, immediately attempted to become a burrowing animal and tucked his face into his pillow and pressed firmly there to seek refuge from the greater world for at least five more minutes with a small whine. 

If anything, that seemed to amuse Will more and he felt a hand against the bumps of his spine, which felt warm through his T-shirt. “I know you’re sleepy, Sam.” Will said quietly, the smile clear in his voice, before he continued. “But I have to go to the bathroom.”

That…didn’t make sense. Sam made a confused noise, and then his pillow started jerking below his head. Sam shoved himself up, his eyes practically glued shut as he tried to figure out what the hell was going on from the little bit that he could see. He was…in a hotel room. The chintzy overproduced artwork and tired terracotta colored wallpaper gave that away, but it wasn’t the thing that really caught his attention. No, that was Will. Looking soft with sleep, the man was laid out on his back in a cotton shirt and the sweatpants that they had purchased the day before and from the expression on his face he thought Sam was doing something ridiculously adorable.

All of this, Sam determined while hovering partially over the man, could be dealt with later before he aimed his face at a cotton pillow that wasn’t Will’s unfairly muscular chest and face planted there, wiggling to pull the blankets up and over himself like a cocoon, or a burrito. Primus he’d kill for a real breakfast burrito, the kind that comes out of a truck was beat to hell and you know couldn’t pass DMV registration, let alone a food inspection. Practically the size of a baby and dripping with sauce.

Someone set their hand on his shoulder and he whined. “F’ve m’ ‘inutes.” He begged. 

“I’ll let you have five more minutes once I get a look at you.” First Aid bargained and grumbling Sam allowed himself to be unwrapped from his little blanket burrow, and dragged into a sitting position where he blearily squinted up at the medic with about the upper brain function of the burrowing creature he had sought to emulate upon awakening. “There you are. How do you feel?” The medic asked, lifting Sam’s hands up to take a peek at his fingertips.

It took Sam a moment to gather reserves to talk before he hummed, “Tired. Hungry.” He finished, visions of burritos dancing in his head. That sparked a smile on the mech, who asked Sam what he’d like and Sam sleepily gushed for “Breakfast burritos.” He sighed longingly.

Chuckling, the medic went through sensation exercises to make sure that Sam’s ‘12 fingers and toes’ were still functioning as expected and hadn’t lost bits of themselves on his solo adventure the night before. By the time First Aid was done Sam might still have been exhausted but he wasn’t sleepy anymore, and they had assessed that the same power that had saved him from the typical damage from hypothermia the night of his intended escape had benefited him on the night of his unintended one.

“The only damage is to your feet from wandering around in socks on the road.” First Aid explained to both Sam and Will, who had gone back to his room to change into his Dollar General outfit while Sam had been examined. “They aren’t too bad. I was able to clean and bandage them last night, but they’re probably going to be a bit tender today.”

Sam lolled his head on his neck, working to stretch the muscles there. “So no marathons for a little while?”

First Aid’s amused eyes were echoed by Will's soft laugh, “Yeah, bud, I think marathons might be off the table for a little bit.” The General teased, all of them pausing when there was a knock at the door to the room.

Will moved to the door in a way that Sam couldn’t say he himself could, all Leonian grace and strength, before the man looked through the peephole and relaxed. The General then unlocked the door and the first thing Sam noticed was the smell of food, quickly followed by the saint who had brought it. 

“Epps!” Sam called enthusiastically, his mouth stretching into a smile at the sight of the other General. Epps gave him a smile and a wave as he first fist bumped Will before continuing to the desk area.  

Epps was followed by Cliffjumper and a woman that Sam didn’t recognize immediately before he perked up. “Arcee?” He asked, in case he’d gotten it wrong. He’d met his world's femmebot trio a handful of times. Though they hadn’t interacted much he’d always had a pretty positive opinion of her and her sisters. “Are Chromia and Elita-1 here too?” He asked curiously. 

The femme’s holoform, shorter than him by at least a couple inches and with the features of an Asian woman. She had black hair that had a strange oil slick effect that shifted the color from dark blue to bubblegum pink like an optical illusion. She looked at Sam with surprise, before tilting her head to Cliffjumper. “::You weren’t kidding, that is surprising::” She commented, turning to give Sam a smile. “Chromia is with me. Elita-1 is still up north with Bulkhead, Hound, and Hotshot working with the forestry service and the remediation team to assess the damage.” 

Sam’s enthusiasm waned slightly at the reminder, but Epps shaking the massive bag caught his attention. “Little birdy told me someone was down for some breakfast burritos.” He said with a smile, wagging the bag. 

Sold. Sam could stand to be awake and enthusiastic about it until at least after breakfast. 

…and the bathroom. 

Inconvenient bodily functions taken care of, hands washed and face not looked at, Sam gingerly rejoined the group. First Aid handed over a glucose pack as Sam sat down in the office chair. “Your blood sugar is down. This should help boost you until the burrito starts processing.” He explained and Sam shrugged, swallowing the goopy paste and washing it down with a sip of real orange juice.

“Thank you for breakfast.” He said to Epps, “You didn’t have to get me orange juice, I know it can get expensive.” He said gratefully. 

Epps raised an eyebrow, “Not really that expensive.” He muttered, causing Sam to frown.

“Isn’t it, like…$30 a Gallon?” Sam asked, confused.

That got Will’s attention too. “$30? Not unless you’re at some fancy bespoke grocery. I think it’s like…$10? Ray?”

It was Arcee who answered. “The median price for a gallon of orange juice in the United States is $9.32.” She confirmed for them.

That…didn’t make sense. “Is it more expensive in the town near my house?” He wondered. But that was a big disparity, even for being in the boondocks.

Arcee tilted her head. “The price between the three major grocery stores is less than 1$ in variation from the national average.” She explained.

Sam frowned, looking at the small container of juice. “Dave said that Orange Juice prices had gone up.” He frowned before the realization of what had likely happened settled in and, like a ton of bricks, weighed his shoulders down. “Milk probably isn't $15 a gallon either, huh? Dave was…exaggerating, wasn’t he?”

Will’s face had turned an interesting, if concerning shade of red and he had to very carefully set his own burrito down before standing up and leaving the room. Sam winced a little, taking a bite of his own burrito to try to capture the hunger he'd just been feeling. It still tasted good, the bacon and chorizo and eggs at counterpoint to the cheese and potatoes, but the knowledge that Dave had been just like everyone else and taken advantage of him because he was an easy mark sat like a rock in the pit of his stomach, making the burrito bite sink almost stonelike on its way down into his stomach.

Epps blew out a breath and looked like he didn’t want to be the one to ask, but leaned forward to do so anyway. Sam’s gaze locked on the burrito in his hands instead of the disappointed General's. “Sam, this Dave guy, he was…like, an assistant?” He asked.

Sam nodded, “His dad, Greg, used to do it. It was just like, grocery deliveries and picking up packages at the post office and stuff since I didn’t go into town regularly because of the--" He waved indistinctly around his head, "--signal stuff. Just, you know, like TaskHabit type things. The lady at the bank suggested him, I think they were friends or something.” He frowned, “Greg got sick maybe 11 years ago and Dave offered to step in. I wasn’t really in a place to do a lot of interviewing and Greg always did right by me.”

Epps nodded, but also needed to hear it out loud what they both knew and Sam needed to say it out loud to make it real. “And then prices started going up.” Epps led with.

Sam felt like such an idiot. “Not…at first. Just like, a little bit, but then there were those E Coli outbreaks, and the avian flu, and then the workers strikes and stuff and the bill started getting bigger and bigger.” Sam frowned. 

“Did you ever check the receipt?” Arcee asked, not accusatory, but confused.

Sam placed his hand over his eyes, feeling like a massive idiot. “I did, for a while, but then the markets all switched entirely to digital, so the only receipts were digital and I can’t really check those. What would I check them on? It’s not like I could use any of those phones or tablets or HUDs or whatevers.” He muttered, “And the few times I did ask to see the receipt it all looked right.”

Sam was quiet for a moment, his throat sore and tight, “I’ve been cutting down on my food orders because I couldn’t afford five grand a month for groceries.” He husked out. Sweet Nascar driving baby Jesus, he was such an idiot. He’d been played so hard and he hadn’t even seen it happening.

“Hey, man, whoa.” Epps said and Sam heard him move closer, “Hey. I know this is like, a shitty revelation, but it’s kind of not a problem anymore.” He said reasonably. Sam rubbed his hand down his face to try to wipe away the mortification he was feeling.  “I don’t want to make promises or anything but money isn’t exactly a concern for us anymore.” Epps eyes were kind in spite of him otherwise looking like the second he wasn’t with Sam he was going to do whatever he’d done in the Valley to those M.E.C.H. guys that was apparently very hush-hush to a certain Delivery Dude named Dave.

Sam glanced around himself and could see that Epps wasn’t the only one in the room looking like there might be a hunting party in Dave's future. Sam waved his hands at them. “It’s not…it’s not something to really do anything about, is it? I can’t…well, I can’t prove anything, can I? I’m dead now. I can’t just walk up to Dave and punch him in the nose.” Not that he would, no matter how good it might feel. Sam wasn’t really a violent person, he would respond but that was never his first or second choice. “I’m just…” He went quiet for a long moment before continuing at a much lower volume. ”Everyone does this. Exploited me because I was too young or too crazy or too sick or too stupid to just not be.” He set the burrito down so he could thread his fingers through his hair and rest his forehead in his palms. “I am just this sucker who keeps getting used. That is what I’m upset about.”

No one in the room, hell, no one alive could do anything to make Sam feel better right now and he knew it. “I think I am going to take a shower. I’ll finish the burrito when I am done.” Just…give himself some space, some time to shove all of this in the ‘bad place box’ until he didn’t feel like he’d crumble like an ash statue in a breeze*. 

No one said anything or stopped him as he pushed back from the table and grabbed his backpack and jeans before going into the bathroom. Turning on the light and the fan, Sam unpacked his change of clothes and stripped, setting everything on the counter because who knows what kind of schmutz was on the floor.

Sam spent probably a lot longer than he should have under the hot spray of the water. It was a trick that he'd read in a book once at a therapy center. Hot water tricked the body into thinking that someone was touching you, holding you, like a full body hug. He'd been using it for years to help with the bouts of depression and loneliness he dealt with. He might have been getting touched, kind of, now (had he really fallen asleep on Lennox? He wondered in mortification) but that was so new and most of the people 'touching' him were holograms. All things considered, he thought that he was doing pretty well to act normal right now. This was the most amount of contact he’d had with another living being since a stray cat had found his house and hung out for a summer before disappearing again. He’d been alone for so long that he forgot what it was like to be with people. Clearly enough to forget how hard some of them could hurt you given the chance. He just…he just needed to feel something comfortable, something familiar. Something safe. 

It would never be the hug he so desperately desired from the people he’d lost or had yet to find, but it was as close as he could get.

Finally, Sam turned off the water and spent some time scrubbing his face with the towel. If his eyes felt more swollen than when he’d gotten into the shower, that was between him and the towel.

When Sam was clothed, he packed up his bathroom kit and folded his dirty laundry in a bin bag at the bottom of his backpack (“It keeps the rest of your clothes from smelling too bad.” A different Will had explained to him in a bedroom on a farm that Sam would likely never see in this world.) and slung the bag over his shoulder. He avoided looking at himself in the mirror as he popped the door open and stepped into the somewhat cramped room beyond. 

During his absence the room had cleared out but for Will, who was now looking more composed but no less angry, and his burrito. 

Which looked no less delicious for his absence. 

Will, seeing his gaze, waved to the chair that Sam had vacated. Will’s breakfast was also absent; Sam hoped that the General had finished his burrito rather than tossing it as he set his backpack down on the bed and sat in the little office chair, picking up his meal.

“Epps explained to me what you said.” Will said in a carefully neutral tone. “I spoke with Xaaron, we’ll get this sorted.” He stated calmly.

Peeling a bit of the excess tortilla from the shell of the burrito to improve the ratio of burrito savorability to tortilla structure, Sam shrugged his shoulders. “What does it matter? Guy found a chump, it happens to people all the time.” He mocked himself, repeating something his Dad used to say. “I’m dead too, remember? What can anyone even do? It’d be a dead man's word against a living ones.” He mused disparagingly. “Just another sucker.”

Will’s hand was warm and firm on his shoulder as he gave it a squeeze. “You were vulnerable. You did nothing wrong.” Will said and Sam nearly believed him. 

Sam set the burrito back down and pressed his hand to his face. “Of course I did. I trusted him.”

“Sam, it’s not wrong to trust people.” Will said gently and Sam’s lip shook.

Sucking in a deep breath, angry that he felt like this, that he could still be hurt like this, Sam looked up at Will with despairing eyes. “Every. Single. Time. I trust someone and they hurt me. Or they leave me. Or they send me away for 'my own good' or because I’m ‘inconvenient’. I am so tired, Will. I’m so tired of being like this. Maybe it would have been better if I had died in the Valley." He disparagingly mused, "Maybe Primus or God or whoever would have been nice enough to just let me stay and just…I dunno, just be.” He hiccupped, only just realizing he was on the edge of a breakdown, a true one and not just the outbursts his dad had labeled as such. “It’s just been so hard.” He tried to explain.

Will moved, swinging Sam and his chair to face him and grabbing Sam’s shoulders, forcing Sam to focus on Will’s face. Sam could see the empathy there, but he also saw a resolve in Will’s eyes that stilled the oscillating thing inside of his mind that was pitching back and forth between despair, mortification, and anger. “I know that right now things feel overwhelming. You were wronged by people that should have protected you. It’s okay to have these feelings.” Will said, releasing one of Sam’s shoulders and tapping his sternum through his yellow hoodie with two fingers. “But you know that things can get better. Death steals the opportunity to see it do so. I’m not asking you to trust me on this, I'm not asking you to trust me at all, I’m asking you to be patient and let people earn your trust." He implored Sam before his expression shifted to something far older and far sadder. "I know that I would have mourned you had you died, the others would have too in their own way. That my life and the lives of my friends is improved by you being in them.” He said quietly. “We’ve been given the benefit of time, the most precious commodity of all. I feel, given enough and with the right people, that you will find that you’ll be glad you didn’t die too.” 

Goddamn this man and his ability to inspire the desire to be better than you are in people. Sam didn’t have to hide that he had been having emotions in the shower because there was no way that he could hide that he was having emotions to Will’s face.

Will, that son of a bitch, just pulled Sam in and pressed the younger man’s face into his shoulder, letting Sam hide as those traitorous feelings broke through and ran riot in him. Worse, the man wrapped arms around Sam and gave the goddamn best dad hug that Sam had had since his own father had died. It was as awful as it was wonderful and after the week Sam had had, it was also incredibly appreciated.

Sam wasn’t sure if Will had had some kind of playbook for how to be…whatever this was, this kind of buoy in a storm that Sam was treading water in, but to a drowning man it was a welcome reprieve. Will didn’t say anything, just hummed when Sam’s breath stuttered because he couldn’t draw it fast enough to use, and it was…it was really what Sam needed, right then. His mother used to hush and diminish his emotions and his father used to yell at him to get over it because Ron Witwicky never knew a day of emotions in his life that didn’t start with ‘constipation’, but Will didn’t do any of those things.

He just was.

It wasn’t long till Sam got it out. It wasn’t like the tent when he’d finally told them about how he’d destroyed his own AllSpark, he didn’t feel hollowed out like a husk. No, as Sam gave Will a squeeze, trying to say ‘thank you’ without having to say the words, Sam felt…better. Better than he had in a while.

Because no matter what universe he was in, Will was still Will, and the man had already earned his trust a dozen times over.

Chapter Text

Driving through Portland was uneventful save for a minor bit of traffic over the Oregon-Washington Bridge. Their motorcade probably drew a few eyes, but Sam wasn’t looking. Even with Epps with the party again, and his small contingent of additional Cybertronians, Will had still insisted that Sam ride with him in Cliffjumper especially after the night before.

Sam hadn’t been in much of a mood for arguing or peopling after breakfast so he'd easily capitulated. Even so, he had made himself walk over to the dark blue haired femme holoform with the same face as Arcee and said hello to Chromia all the same. Judy Witwicky had raised her son to be polite if nothing else and just because he was having a pretty shit morning thus far didn't mean that he had an excuse to be rude to someone he respected, or a version of her anyway.

The two femmes had been friendly, but understanding when Sam had been pulled along by Will and deposited into the passenger side of Cliffjumper who reclined the seat and dimmed the windows to a twilight filter almost immediately.

It was…nice. He’d slept in Bee a few times on drives, and even once in Optimus, but there was something about being curled up in a Cybertronian while they drove that was comforting in a way a normal car could never be. One of his therapists might have even call it ‘womb-like’, probably Dr. Evans, she’d been pretty ‘womb’ forward during his months working with her. He could hear the chatter of the bots around him as though through a pane of glass, there but indistinct save for a few words or signal flavors. Cliffjumper himself had felt calm and at the same time vigilant around them, easing the stress in Sam's frame.

Will, for his part, was working on reading his book but would text on his phone, that Epps had thoughtfully returned to him, occasionally. The signals were distinct for the device, the data interpreted differently through the filter of the nullifying collar almost like bird song.

While Skids had worked on tuning the collar a few times, once while Sam had been unconscious at the hospital and another earlier that morning, it wasn’t as robust or clean as the hated helmet had been. The helmet, Sam discovered, had been a casualty of war with the disassembled nullifier unit from another missile and that of his original array of nullifiers, only the two closest to Bluestreak had survived the sharpshooter's aim. While Skids could probably recreate one of the original models given time and resources, the two surviving original working nullifiers had been high enough of a priority that they’d been flown by their supersonic flier friend back to Diego Garcia while Sam had been transported to the Rockway Hospital.

Dozing under Will’s coat, the background ‘noise’ was pleasant. A reminder that he wasn’t alone. 

With traffic and their late start, lunchtime had snuck up on them just as they were approaching Eugene Oregon. Sam knew that he'd driven through the city when he had moved to his cabin but it had been felt more like a getaway than a move at the time. He’d only had time to shove the important shit into the back of the car and had basically driven like a bat out of hell fueled by caffeine and rest stop food from San Diego to northern Washington. Eugene, like everything else on the drive, hadn’t been given the opportunity to really be looked at let alone appreciated much on the way through.

He vaguely knew that there was a University in the city, that they did well historically in Football; Football hadn’t really been his thing, Trent and the football team's active harassment campaign having not endeared him to the sport even when Ron had tried to entice him. Sam’s well documented desire to live overcoming his other well noted ability to outrun hulking behemoths set on squishing him into the ground. Some more permanently than others. 

Still, as they approached the city the conversation started picking up in the background, enough so to rouse Sam from his nap curled up in Cliffjumper's passenger seat. Sam suspected that the seat normally wasn’t as comfortable to sleep in based on Will’s absent movements but it was a notable improvement to even his couch back at home which, though busted as hell, was his primary napping location.

Brown eyes blinking open, Sam made a grunting sound as he shifted. Will looked up from his phone to glance at Sam, quirking his brow at what Sam assumed was his immaculate bed head. “Hey, we’re getting close to Eugene and Epps is hankering for some grub.” He said, waving the fancy piece of tech at Sam. 

Sam yawned, shoving his hair out of his face and collapsing back into the seat that shifted from bed mode to chair mode without his prompting. “Thanks, Cliff.” He mumbled, digging the heel of his palm into his eyes as his brain started percolating again.

“No worries, buddy.” The dash gave a vibrant splash of color at the mechs voice and Sam noticed the windows slowly lighting. “First Aid would like me to inform you that you’re blood sugar is going to need a pick me up soon anyway, so we’re looking at a barbeque place that has good reviews, GodGrilla BBQ?”

Sam, surprised at the name, snorted. “Oh Primus, is that a Godzilla pun?” He laughed. 

Will rolled his eyes, looking through the windscreen at their merry band. Sam couldn’t help but follow his gaze and realize, like he hadn’t before, that he was with Cybertronians. He was with them.

He probably wasn’t hallucinating all of this. 

GodGrilla was like all good barbeque places; a concerning looking shack in the middle of a dilapidated parking lot with a patio area with too many grills to technically be legal and up to firecode with a long line of patrons out the door. It was warmer in Eugene than it’d been in Northern Washington, but Sam was still glad to be under Will's coat at the prospect of standing out in the early Spring weather for too long.

When they pulled into the lot, Sam noticed that it was only Barricade, Cliffjumper, and First Aid in the lot, the smaller framed members parking off to the side but allowing their holoforms to join them. 

Cliffjumper opening his door prompted Sam to unbuckle and stand up, slipping Will’s jacket on and shoving his hands into the parkas pockets. Sam didn’t even see the telltale flicker of blue from the holoform manifesting before Cliffjumper was at his side, directing him towards First Aid who was joining them from where he’d been forced to park a little further away because of his large frame size.

The smile First Aid gave Sam forced one of his own in return and he tolerated it when First Aid gave him a look over that prickled like a scan but didn’t require a visible light spectrum. “I didn’t know you could scan like that.” Sam laughed as Cliffjumper patted his shoulder and went to join the General’s, Barricade, and Frenzy in line.

First Aid shrugged, “It’s not really subtle to scan people. It’s a less accurate scan, but only marginally. I figured ‘low key’ was more important than most accurate given the circumstances.” He joked, stuffing one of his hands into the pockets of his business trousers and bringing the other up to press the back of it to Sam’s forehead. “You’ve got a minor fever but it doesn’t look like you’re fighting anything off, probably an internal thermoregulation issue. How do you feel?”

Sam shrugged, watching the cycles and Skids scope out a place to sit in the small outdoor eating area around the side of the building. “Fine.”

That got a raised eyebrow from First Aid. “Really?” The holoform asked as he tilted his head towards the tables and started leading Sam over.

Scowling, Sam grumbled. “Okay, I’m exhausted, and achey, but I mean not as bad as I could be.” He shrugged. “Feet don’t even really hurt.”

The medic gave him a side eye but nodded as Sam waved at the sisters and Skids. Steeljaw, holding up a pagoda support, got a smile from Sam as he hadn’t really seen the Mechanimal since their terrifying escape. “Hey guys.” He said as he slid into the bench seat, huddling a bit in Will’s coat. 

“Sam-ma-man, how you doing? Drive a’ight?” Skids asked, leaning back in a sprawl across part of the dilapidated table.

Rubbing his mouth as he fought back a monster yawn, Sam nodded. “Yeah. Mostly sleeping. I’m still pretty tired from last night, and, you know, everything else.” Sam admitted before finally giving in. 

The twin looks from the sisters caused Sam to tilt his head in confusion before Chromia sent a signal that might as well have been the sound everyone in the world makes when they see a tiny sleepy kitten and Sam realized that he was the kitten in this scenario. She jerked back, in surprise, before laughing. “I’m sorry.” She got out between chuckles, “I haven’t been planet-side very long and…” She paused, looking like she was debating how to explain it. “Well, we got the official debrief on Humans and Spark Touched and then we got the real debrief…” She started, then cut her gaze to Arcee.

Face palming, Arcee gave her sister an annoyed look. “Oh, don’t draw me into this. You're the one experiencing ‘cute aggression’.” The woman stated, shoving her hand up into her hair and pulling it back. Sam’s completely befuddled expression caused her to wince. “It was something Hot Rod explained.” She mumbled in embarrassment. 

Skids eyebrows shot up, having been watching this dumpster fire with clear amusement. “What that fragger say?” He asked.

Chromia cut her eyes from Skids to Sam. “Er, he said: ‘If you think they’re cute now, wait till one of them falls asleep in you’.” She admitted.

Sam blinked at her, confused, before his lip twitched. “Ooooooh.” He laughed. “Uh, no offense to Roddy, but I think he might be blowing it out of proportion. I’m pretty sure that I’m actually pretty gross when I sleep.” He admitted. 

The [indignant] pulse from behind him caused Sam to glance back at First Aid who, though he looked a bit embarrassed, gave Sam a pointed look before addressing the sisters. “They are very cute, but they’re also self aware and not exactly cybercats.” He admonished lightly.

Skids wrapped an arm around Sam’s shoulders, “I dunno, kids’ cute as a ::Cyberlot[sparkling]::.” The mech joked, petting Sam’s head with his unfairly large hand. 

It, well, should have been too much but Sam could feel the [affection][joking] from Skids and the pressure from his hand was actually quite gentle. It was unlike how he was used to being touched when he was being teased, which was pretty aggressive and rough, but it wasn’t like that. Sam still pulled away, but it wasn’t violently. It should have been violent. It was...weird, right? To be okay with people touching him?

The weirdly fleshy ‘smacking’ sound that followed from First Aid smacking Skids on the back of the head was more violent and Skids, for his part, feigned mortal injury, ducking away from the Medic before turning big eyes (slightly too big, was he messing with the holoforms eye size parameters???) to Sam beseechingly.

Sam, for his part, held up his arms in an X shape before shaking his head, “Don’t look at me, buddy, you just compared me to a kitten. I might not have much pride but I can assure you the mental image of me as Simba wasn’t the highlight of my day.” He said as the sisters burst into laughter at Skids, who made a big show of folding his arms and huffing, which caused even Sam to smile reluctantly. Sam didn’t miss the little smirk the holoform made when Sam found him amusing.

First Aid bent down to Sam’s side but didn’t sit. “General Lennox is asking what you’d prefer.” The medic explained.

Sam frowned and looked towards the line and realized that even though the line was pretty long it was moving pretty quickly too. “Uh, pulled pork sandwich? I’m not really that hungry.” Sam admitted. 

Giving Sam a considerate look, First Aid straightened. “You ate most of your burrito this morning, so at least that is normal.” He accepted. “Liquid intake could be a bit improved, luckily the IV helped with any dehydration.” The medic hummed to himself. 

Rolling his eyes a bit, Sam pulled the coat tighter around himself and basked in the sunlight. In spite of it being a bit cool out, sitting in the sun was pretty okay and he didn’t realize he was listing to the side until his cheek planted against Skids shoulder. Sam pulled back, blinked his eyes open in a confused frown, but after a moment just closed them again and rested his head on the warm holoform and let himself doze for a minute. Just a minute. 

He only needed a minute.

Several minutes later Sam was roused when the food arrived. Blinking his eyes open with exaggerated effort, Sam muzzily frowned in confusion around the table. Skids arm unwrapped from around his shoulders (when had it gotten there?) and Lennox shoved a plastic tray, the kind you use in school, in front of him with not only the pulled pork sandwich but some cornbread and a mac and cheese that clogged Sam’s arteries just from looking at. They also had a Mexican coke for him and he stared at the food while his brain on lined with pleasant surprise.

“There’s our sleepy guy.” Will chuckled. “Drink some of the coke, it’ll help wake you up.” 

Dazedly, Sam nodded and before he could grab the bottle a man’s hand took it and popped the cap off and handed it to him. Sam blinked up as he took the bottle back to see Steeljaws cheeky grin. He’d been so quiet Sam hadn’t even noticed him.

“Thanks, Steeljaw.” Sam smiled, before meeting the mech’s eyes.

The mechanimal’s holoform smiled back, tipping his hat like some kind of cowboy, before leaning back. “No problem, Sam.”

Will rolled his eyes, digging into his own plate of meat and sides. Both Will and Epps had beer bottles and Sam almost asked why hehadn’t been included when he realized that giving alcohol to someone who looked like a minor, who still didn’t have an ID, and who was already exhausted, probably wasn’t a good look.

“When I get this new identity, can I be listed as over 21?” He asked, taking a sip from the soda bottle all the same.

Epps gave a guffaw, “With that face? Man, we barely believe you’re out of middle school.” He joked. “Luckily, Diego Garcia follows international standards, so drinking is allowed at 18 - what we're listing you as. You're welcome.” Taking a sip of his beer he pointed the lip at Sam, “Not that I want to be cleaning up your skinny ass if you go too crazy.”

Rolling his eyes, Sam sipped his coke, “I’m not a college kid, I know my limits Dad.” Sam snarked back.

Epps snorted, “We’ll see.” He said vaguely, taking a sip of his beer to rub the point home. 

‘You need to go South.’ 

Sam frowned, “We are going south.” He grumbled, stabbing a fork full of Mac and cheese and stuffing it in his mouth.

There was a quiet pause for a moment before Sam percieved it was quiet. Lifting his eyes from his tray, Sam noticed the confused looks he was getting. “What?” He asked.

Chromia tilted her head, “South?”

Pausing, Sam frowned. “Did…did someone say ‘You need to go South’?” He asked, suspecting already that it hadn't been anyone at the table.

First Aid slid into the bench seat next to him, but Sam already felt the scanner on him. “No one here did. Are you still picking up signals?”

Sam pressed his hand to his face. “Yeah. I've been getting signals all day, but this one was a little clearer.” He admitted. More distinct.

More familiar.

‘Not right now, please.’ He silently begged. The voice didn't respond, but the brush of [disappointment] was enough for Sam to feel a bit like shit. ‘I can't help right now. I can't help anyone right now.’ He tried to explain but the presence was already gone.

First Aid nodded sympathetically while Skids made a vaguely pained noise, “Sorry Sam-ma-man, without taking that off, I ain't got anything to adjust it more safely.” Skids apologized with clear regret.

Waving it off, Sam tried to fill his mouth with food. If he didn't talk then he couldn't lie and if he didn't lie they wouldn't know that the signal wasn't random radio static.

Arcee frowned thoughtfully, “Odd signal though. I don't think I noticed it.” She continued.

“I got something about heading south on i-5 for a dealership.” Steeljaw added absently, a tablet in hand which was odd. That seemed to mollify the group but Sam could feel the Mechanimal's attention on him as Sam worked his way through his lunch with single minded determination that seemed to equally please and concern First Aid. 

If…if they were back, now that he was outside of the Valley and the nullifiers, then Sam had more problems to deal with.

Lunch wrapped up a little bit later, the humans pleasantly full of good BBQ pit food to the amusement of the bots. Frenzy had curiously grabbed a piece of cornbread and stuffed it in his little holoform mouth, causing the other holoforms to scrunch up their faces but Will to snort.

Sam was utterly fascinated though. “What are you doing?” 

Frenzy ‘swallowed’ the piece of food and made a show of running his hard light tongue around his mouth. “Testing it out.” 

That…didn't make sense. “Can you eat? Like, human food?” 

“No, we can't.” Barricade rebutted, moving the plate of cornbread away from Frenzy. “This idiot's sensory array is more sensitive so he likes to try things to categorize the sensation and as close as he can get to tasting it. And then spits it back up once he’s processed what he can from them.”

Frenzy scowled at Barricade, “I'm a ::cassette::, I'm supposed to try things. It's like, my job. Record everything then bring it back to ::Soundwave::.” He explained haughtily. “Human food is particularly interesting because it is derived from such a wide variety of flora and fauna. Hell, even things made with the same ingredients can be really different.”

Picking up his tray, Sam followed Will and Epps to the garbage and recycling area. Having lived in the Pacific Northwest for decades he was used to separating his leavings into compost, recycling, garbage and dishwashing and did so automatically, though Epps had to pause a moment as he separated his out. 

At Sam's look, Epps shrugged, “Diego Garcia has a different system.” He shrugged as he got everything but the paper tray in the right spot.

Humming, Skids nodded. “We use a lot of the non-compost for the fusion reactors on site.” With a completely blasé tone. “We use the organic scraps for the hydroponics and fertilizer.” 

Sam, who had a greater knowledge of fission and fusion reactors than the regular bear, frowned at Skids. “Why are you using fusion? Isn't that…really beneath you?” 

Skids smirked, “Proof o’ concept. Our shits better’n anything here. We showin’ that we got it mastered and you folks don't gotta rely on fossil fuels no more.” 

Sam snorted, “How are China and India dealing with that? They're still the biggest holdouts, right, for coal fired plants?” He asked.

Cliffjumper shrugged, “China has been difficult to work with in general, they're still not convinced that we aren't a hoax created by the international community, specifically Japan, to prank them. Every time I've met an official they aren't subtle in looking for my ‘manufacturer’ tag.” He snorted. “But they're not as bad as they were 30 years ago. They've only got about 800 coal energy plants left.” 

Arcee nodded, “We're already installing our reactors in most of Southeast Asia. Singapore was our first buy in when we showed them how in case of a ‘meltdown’ it all just goes dormant. We're not working with uranium or anything so it's not a public hazard.”

“Well, no, but you have so much better energy manufacturing, why settle for basically cavebot tech for us?” Sam asked curiously as they stood off to the side so other people could dispose of their waste without issue.

Steeljaw smirked, “They don't want to give you folks enough rope to hang yourselves with. Throw an Energon reactor into the mix and your lot doesn't need us anymore, and we don't get the Energon.”

Oh. Huh. That made sense.

“Also, you guys aren't ready for the pure destructive power of refined Energon yet.” Barricade said with his arms folded. “Y’all are always threatening each other with Nukes, imagine if it was an Energon bomb?”

Sam shuddered, “Uh, no thanks. I like not being a shadow atomized into a wall before the wall is atomized into its own shadow.”

Epps and Will suddenly looked ill. “What?” Will asked.

Sam shook his head. “Believe me, you don't want to know. Idon't want to know, but I do know, and I'm telling you, you don't wanna know*.” He shuddered.

That got a few interested looks. “You saw one?” Frenzy asked, eyes wide and eager. Cassette's, right?

Sam gave the little mech a look, “Yes. And no, I am not going to talk about it. Seeing the aftermath should be enough for you.” He said pointedly. 

The look that Cliffjumper sent him was considering. “It wasn't just Energon bombs, was it?” He said knowingly.

Averting his eyes, Sam shoved his hands in his pockets. “I don't want to talk about it.” He settled and though Frenzy looked fit to be tied, the others adopted looks of understanding. 

They'd all seen things in war that they would rather not have.

Will clasped Sam's shoulder and hooked his arm around the shorter man's shoulder. “You got it. We've got another few hours of driving ahead of us, ready for another nap?”

“Primus yes.” Sam groaned, ready to be out again.

The problem, unfortunately, with talking about evil is that doing so calls it home. 

-----------

Like many colony worlds, Antilla* was cyberformed over the course of several hundred years to be more accommodating to the cybertronian settler population. The problem with this cyberformification, however, was that when they started settling the planet they weren’t the first ones there.

It was new days in the expansionist Cybertronian Empire at that time, long before the sentiment of ‘freedom being the right of all sentient beings’ took hold, and the prospect of losing out on a perfectly serviceable colony world when it took so long with their galactic transports to get from system to system was untenable to the leadership team of the Titan Nemesis. 

Once the colony was established they’d be able to set up a Space Bridge, but until they did so investing in a Space Bridge that they would not have absolute control of was infeasible. 

And thus began the war.

As far as conflicts go, and Sam had seen thousands at this point in his life, it wasn’t pretty. Not just the vision quality, which was notably degraded with how old the conflict was. The Antillans were a technologically advanced bipedal humanoid species, like many extraterrestrial species that he’d seen were, with lavender skin, horns, feather-like hair and eight fingered hands that were adept at tool manipulation. They’d been, as far as Sam could ascertain, a fierce and proud people but ultimately not a bad one.

But during war even the most reasonable people can become dangerous. The Cybertronians especially.

This vision was less focused than the one in Iacon had been; flighty, jumping from battlefield to battlefield and from death to death. Sam wished that he’d wake up, but his brief sojourn was just that: brief.

Sam watched as the war raged and the Antillans fell, soon eradicated but for the few who managed to create generation ships and take off into the great unknown. He hoped they had found a new home, a safe place that served no use to the Cybertronian expansionist cause, and were able to reestablish even though he didn’t need his grasp of mathematics to know that that was unlikely. Space was cold, and dark, and dangerous; organics were far more susceptible to its dangers than the mechanoid races were. 

The Antillans though hadn’t gone out without one last surprise. A mechanoid race, one formed by living metal, feared one thing more than anything else in the universe. 

Rust.

So that is what they had left as a final parting gift. A contagion of rust that had crept like a quiet plague through the contingents of cybertronian soldiers left to clean up the battlefields. A silent contagion that had infected soldier and support staff alike indiscriminately and unnoticed until by the time the first mech fell ill it had already been too late, all of the ground forces in every base had been exposed and sick with it.

Sam stood aboard the bridge of a grand ship. He was a miniscule thing compared to the giants he stood amongst and watched as Onyx Prime stood with Megatronus as they surveyed the world below.

“::Seems a downright shame.::” Came the familiar voice of Megatronus, one day in the distant future to be referred to by another, more accurate moniker. The Fallen.

Onyx Prime hummed next to him, looking out over the ringed planet that had cost them time and resources they hadn’t had. ”::The consumption is too close to Cosmic Rust to treat. Best to cut our losses. Better to lose several hundred now than millions trying to cure it.::” The towering figure said dispassionately. ”::They’re cold constructs mostly in any case. We’ll just forge more.::” He shrugged. ”::None of the Guardians or Omega Supreme were contaminated, were they?::” He called louder to the hall.

A smaller mech, a drone, came forward, ”::Negative, my Prime. Fortuitously there has been no migration between the ground bound contingent and our forces in the flotilla for some time. While expansive screening has been going on since the first reports of the Rust infection, before quarantine protocols were instituted, we have had no evidence of further contamination.::” The drone explained, sounding pleased.

Pleased.

Sam would have growled had he had vocal chords, but with these old memories, there was less of him to connect to. Slipping from the bridge, Sam found himself on a war torn battlefield littered with the decaying bodies of the former denizens of this world, Sam was glad that whoever’s memory he was traversing hadn’t either had to ability to smell or that the data had been lost to time from what he could see. 

The smell of death wasn’t something that Sam needed to be reminded of when the sight of it was horrendous enough.

Turning from the horrifying tableau, if Sam had had shoulders they would have sunk at what he shifted his view to. The base had been their main outpost, Sam could tell by the resources afforded around them, better equipment and more of it but that was from a time long past. Or one that looked like it was long past.

The ravages of rust had hit the command base hard. Laid out on the ground in neat little rows were the unfortunate mechs infected by the rusting disease, chromatic nanites unable to hold ground as the metal flesh below them corrupted. The swelling and bubbling of their plating causing the once smooth metal to fissure and bubble distinctly. Scores of pained voices cried out, begging for mercy, and Sam could understand why as a mech at his hip chestplate visibly rusted along the seem like a bursting cancer before his eyes. 

It meant nothing, but Sam reached out what he could of his physical form, a ghostly hand, to pet her helm as the femme gave a pitiful warble at the pain. “It’s okay, I know it hurts.” He soothed if only to himself, casting a glance to the mauve sky high above them, knowing that her pain would end soon enough.

Movement caught his eye and Sam turned to see a lone medical bot hurrying from fallen comrade to fallen comrade, trying desperately to regulate sensory arrays as she clearly had no method to inhibit the disease ravaging her compatriots. Forceps. Sam thought, recognizing her. He’d…known her, as he knew many, from better days. She’d been a peer of Ratchets, in his youth, Sam had memories of them getting rust sticks with friends while attending Protinex Medical Mechanics University together, making each other laugh about particularly horribly professors they'd shared.

So this was…this was where it ended, then. 

The helm under his ghostly hand made a soft, gentle vent. She’d found some kind of relief, some kind of escape from the consumption, and Sam for once able to move easily through the memory to Forceps. The closer he got, the more he could tell that though she was up and about, she was not doing well at all. Crags of rust bubbled across her plating worse than her patients; Sam’s chest hollowed seeing the fissures in her form made stable by quick welds like a failing support lattice that was being consumed just the same as she was. That she'd been forced to do a series of spot welds as the form under them had completely rusted out.

'She must have turned her sensory array off entirely to be able to function at all.’ He realized with sinking mortification. That was…that was end of life care. It was incredibly dangerous, turning those off caused cascade failures as systems couldn’t get necessary data and errored out. But what choice did she have? Hundreds of dying patients and no way to treat them or herself?

The sound was the first thing Sam noticed. Turning from the doomed ‘bots, Sam looked to the sky where the sound was coming from and saw white hot light descend from the heavens and causing the clouds to swirl and part in an unbelievable display of sheer power. Sam would have raised his hand to shield his eyes as the Osmium rod made impact with the crust of the planet and set off first a percussive burst and then a chain reaction in the planets volcanic systems if he'd had one.

A real scorched earth campaign.

The distant command centers burst into pink eruptions of indescribable explosions as the specific radiation from the Osmium supercharged the Energon and Sam literally watched death approaching like a wave. 

“::Primus have mercy.::” Forceps whispered next to him and Sam reached out and placed what he could of his form against her shin, she being nearly 20 feet taller than him and him without a body. 

“You’re going to be okay. It’s just time to go home.” He repeated, like he had so many other times. 

They watched the wave coming closer as an island of calm, both aware of what this meant. It only took seconds for the mangled bots around them to scream their last fury at a leadership that saw them as nothing more than cannon fodder before the wall hit. 

Just as their own Energon supply erupted into the kind of Energon Bomb that Sam had been sickened by before, he heard Forceps' last words.

“::I want to go home.::”

-----------

“--am! Come on kid, c’mon. ” Roused Sam from his particularly deep sleep, forcing his brain to catch like a piston in a crank start vehicle. Sam jerked, all muscles in his body seeming to alight at the same moment as something shuddered through him, starting at the nape of his neck, fritzing there as though caught in a loop before creeping up his skull and down his spine like dancing electric fingers, building in intensity till his back curved like a bow and then he jack-knifed into a sitting position as the fingers all snapped at once.

For one perfect, pristine moment, everything around Sam was quiet and still before the seat below him shuddered and then the sound of transformation cogs engaging had Sam’s muddled brain trying desperately to turn on.

“No, no!” He moaned, slapped his hands to his eyes as he moved, was he moving? Was he caught in the storm? “::Nooooo!::” He cried.

“Sam!” Lennox cried and Sam tried to reconcile what he had been experiencing with what he was seeing. He was tucked into the chest plate of Cliffjumper as Will maneuvered over the mechs other arm to get to Sam and Sam looked up at maroon…no, blue? skies. Why was the sky blue? They were maroon. Weren’t they? “Sam, hey, I need you to look at me.” Lennox said when he was crouched by his side and Sam tipped his head towards the man, but the faces of the Antillan’s super imposed themselves on Will’s, making the man unrecognizable. 

“I’m sorry.” Sam hiccupped, “I am sorry they did that to you, to your home!” Sam wailed. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that.”

The face that looked down at him contorted in confusion, “Sam? Do you know who I am?” Came the cautious voice came from the Antillan face. 

Sam frowned, “I…I don’t…” He frowned, “::Forceps?::” He squeeked. Where was she? She had been right here. Hadn't she?

There was talking, Sam was sure of it, but out of the corner of his eye he could see Rust starting to bubble in the seem of a chestplate and he cried out, hand slapping the metal as though it could stop it somehow. “No, no, no, noooooo….don’t rust, please don’t rust, please pleasepleasepleasseeee--” He whimpered.

There were carefully hands on his shoulders, turning him from the mechs chest which was still bubbling oh Primus why wasn’t he screaming and forced him to look at the Antill--no, look in Will’s face. It was oscillating, never fully Will but also never fully an Antillan.

“Sam?” Will asked.

Raising a hand to scrub away the moisture in his eyes, Sam tried his hardest to focus on Will. “I think…I think I’m hallucinating.” He whispered. 

Will, it was Will, wasn’t it? Nodded, hands still on Sam’s shoulders. “Okay, that’s okay. It happens. Are you okay if we are set down? I don’t want to have this conversation 20 feet above the ground.”

Sam shut his eyes, trying to breathe. “Okay, okay. Yeah, I’m…I want to be on the ground, please.” He whispered and clung tightly to Will when the arms holding his slowly descended and Sam tried to breath. Breathing, it’s what he did everyday, didn’t he? Hadn’t stopped yet. 

They stopped and Will helped Sam stand up, moving to the ground and Sam frowned, finally looking around himself as he slipped from Cliffjumpers digits to the grass below. They were in some kind of clearing in the woods, where? He had no idea. The colors of the sky and of the plants kept shifting between one world and the other. He could hear distant traffic, but couldn’t see the road it was coming from. He caught sight of the other Cybertronians and had to look away because he could see rust bubbling along their frames too. He felt...weak, and took a couple of steps before his knees gave out and Sam found himself kneeling on the ground.

Sam tilted his head and felt his face pinch when he saw First Aid’s holoform spark to life to the side, and Sam realized that the talking was getting louder.

“Aid?” Will called as he knelt down by Sam. “Aid, can you come over here?”

The Medic was already kneeling down and Sam felt the sensor sweep even as he saw the light flicker. Will’s hand pressed to his forehead and was it getting louder?

“Aid? Something…something’s wrong?” Sam whimpered and that got First Aid pressing close, another scan causing the tingle, the same one that had exploded through him a minute ago to buzz in the back on his mind.

No, the back of his head. 

“::Frag, the nullifier’s about to fail.::” First Aid swore, lifting a light into Sam’s eyes. “Sam, I need to sedate you, okay? The collar is failing and I don’t--”

POP goes the weasel. 

The charge, for that was what it was, made the discharge he’d experienced earlier inside of Cliffjumper feel like a sparkler when compared to an electrical station. Everything disappeared into the cacophonous ‘WOMMM’ that took out every other sense that he had. Even sight was lost to him as his back curved into the perfect U, head planted in the dirt as the muscles in his body contracted in a violent burst.

Then…like a pinprick in his universe, there was something else. 

Something else that was getting…bigger? No, closer, it was getting closer? How was there closer in nothing?

Too close, too fast, was Sam falling? It was familiar, but different: it felt like falling to earth after getting knocked off a Seeker at altitude but without the friction an atmosphere would incur. 

Then cacophony. Every one of his senses was alight with sensation, with input, with information and none of it was registering correctly and it felt like he was touching and being touched inside and out and--

::Guardian Protocols Engaging::

What?

Chapter Text

It was impossible to find the words to describe the feeling of what Sam’s racing brain was bleating had to be the ::Communication Network::. For all of his jumps into visions, memories, halucinations, he’d only even been peripherally aware of it. This though. This was…well, it is magnificent and terrifying all at once, or at least it was.

This…liminal space was shut off, void, from the overwhelming feeling from before. It was…quiet. Like being suspended in warm, viscous fluid that suppressed all of the overwhelming sensory input and stimuli into practically nothing. Eerie. If he hadn’t just been subjected to the other end of what the Network could offer he would have been freaking out, but now? The quiet was an incredibly welcome reprieve. 

“Hello?”

Silence met his call, non-echoing. It was like not only was the outside muffled, but he was muffled too.

It felt like forever and no time at all when he found that he wasn’t alone anymore.

“::Hello Sam[concern][wonder][affection].::” Came First Aid’s soft…voice? It wasn’t a voice though, not really, there was no sound in this place. But there wasn’t any other way to describe how First Aid was communicating, it was like the words were being telegraphed directly into his mind absent ears. Which made sense. Sam didn't have ears here. 

“First Aid? Where…are we in the ::Network::?" Sam asked, reaching out for First Aid in the nebulous sense of the word. 

There was a frisson of sensation against his peripheral senses and then it felt like someone's bigger hands were pulling him close. “::Yes[amusement], Sam, you connected[linked][wonder] yourself when the nullifying collar failed[exploded].::”

Sam knew the tones of Cybertronian speech, obviously, but this was different. It was like he was feeling the undercurrent of the words, not like someone else was sharing their own feelings, but like he was feeling them for the other person. A distant part of him remembered this. It wasn’t often that Sam was embedded so deeply that he felt the field sensations of the memory he was walking, not more than a passing note of it, but he remembered it. ::Communion::. The sharing of your experience with another. It was mostly friendly but it could be quite…intimate, depending on the situation. But it was strictly a Cybertronian thing, wasn’t it? 

“I didn’t think humans could do that.” Sam responded in confusion. 

The warm sensation of comfort swept over him, and if he’d had eyes they would have gone half lidded at the feeling.

“::No one knew that a human could connect[amusement].::” First Aid explained. “::And yet, here we are[wonder].::” There was a pause, before First Aid continued. “::Here we are with the three of you.::”

That woke Sam up, “Three?” How could...the Generals?

[Confirmation] swelled around him, “::You released a pulse of AllSpark energy that lit up Generals Epps and Lennox’s protoform filaments like the fête of the Primes*. Their connection was less intense than your own, far easier to manage.::” The medical mech explained.

“But I was different.” Sam concluded. 

“::Yes, you were different[special][surprising][intrigued]. You connected[entrenched] too quickly, too deeply, with no firewalls or buffers - something that should never[absolutely] be done. The Network[nexus] is not a space without its own dangers.::" First Aid elucidated. The soothing feeling that First Aid was exuding was like aloe on a burn he hadn’t noticed before.

Sam was quiet for a moment, “Are Epps and Will okay?”

“::Their connection is very weak, their range is short. They didn’t require Guardian Protocols to be activated to protect them.::” First Aid clarified and Sam remembered the ::Command:: during his turbulent initial foray into the Network. 

::Guardian Protocols:: were…wait, wait a second. “But I’m not a Sparkling!” He choked out.

The soothing feeling was back and Sam would have frowned if he had a face, though he knew that the medic wasn’t trying to overwhelm his own feelings with the mechs, and was offering the sensations should he need it. “::No, you’re not. However, you are a babe[innocent][vulnerable] in the woods in the Network. The Network, independent of malicious[predatory] actors is itself very dangerous. My base medical protocols, though good, couldn’t protect you[regret][sorrow][shame] before your neural pathways would have been devastated[sundered][destroyed][sorrow] if I had not established a Guardian bond with you.::” He explained quietly. “::If there had been another way I would have sought consent, but there wasn’t time.::”

That sounded, not ominous, but like Sam was missing information. “What does this mean for…I guess, us?” He asked hesitantly. 

There was quiet on the other side of the connection in the space that wasn’t. “::I am not entirely sure[hesitant][scared][apologetic][sad] myself. I have never been a Guardian before, I suppose as much or as little as you need[more sure][supportive].::”

Sam was quiet for a moment, ruminating on what First Aid had said and what he was able to drudge up from the tower of information taking up space in his brain before prodding the medic with his own feeling of curiosity. “The Guardian Bond is permanent, isn't it?”

There was a moment of hesitance. “::Yes[unsure][ashamed].::”

That wasn’t what Sam--”I just meant, this goes both ways right? Now you’re stuck with me.” He couldn’t help his own swell of mixed emotions that came with that statement, none of them particularly positive. 

“::Sam[confusion][dawning understanding][sadness], oh no, Sam[affection][understanding]. I am not upset to be in a Guardian Bond with you[support][affection].::”

Sam tried to shy away from First Aid, but couldn’t in this place that he realized must be a subsection of Network space that was controlled by the mech. “Maybe you should be. First Aid, I’m…I have a lot wrong with how my brain works. I’m going to be a problem.” He tried to convey before suddenly realizing that that ship had long sailed. It was a permanent connection, meaning that nothing could break it but…well, death. “I’m so sorry, First Aid, I didn’t--”

A censuring(?) sensation caused him to pause. It wasn’t angry, but it was stark. “::Sam. What’s done is done. For better[affection][acceptance] or worse[understanding][support] we are now connected[partnered][bonded]. I expect it will not be an easy Guardianship, but given the circumstances I hope that we can find an amenable arrangement for both of us until you no longer need me.::” 

Quiet, save for his own thoughts, Sam felt himself at least agreeing with that. “Is my body okay?”

[Confirmation] ran over him, “::Yes[relieved], you’ll likely[definitely] have a headache. Epps and Lennox are reporting that they are experiencing their own, but your systems[organs] are functioning within reasonable[not ideal] parameters given the trauma[shock] you just experienced. You will need either a rally pack or water and glucose packs when I bring[release] you out of high stasis lock however.::”

At least that was a relief, but waking up brought up a whole slew of other issues. “What about the nullifier? Is it broken broken? I can’t…I can’t go out there without a nullifier.” He realized with dread.

There was a pause and then understanding, “::Yes, I’m afraid it is 'broken broken[exploded]', but I suspect[hope] it is no longer necessary. From my scans[observation] over the last hour, it appears that some[most] part of your debilitating signal issues were your body trying to connect[link] to the Network.::” The mech informed Sam. There was a pause, and Sam knew suddenly that First Aid was looking something up from the Network itself. “::It is like a:: cellular phone. ::When you were not connected[linked], you were ‘searching[seeking] for signal’ which was rapidly[unsafely] exhausting[depleting] your energy reserves seeking to connect[embed] to a system you couldn't find. I suspect[conjecture] this may be why your glucose levels were diminishing so rabidly[concern] so suddenly. You were suddenly subconsciously aware[certain] and within reach of the Network and still couldn't connect.::” Came the mechs thoughtful response. “::Now you are connected, but safely[secure] behind both my Guardian and Medical grade firewalls. The signals[messages] should cause you no further harm[pain][fear][illness].::” First Aid said kindly and that--

That was.

Amazing.

Used to getting his hopes up for nothing, Sam tried to wrangle the impossible feeling swelling inside of him that the signal issues, his major life complication above and beyond all else: the seizures, the millions of years of Cybertronian history, hell, even the ability to manipulate some kind of AllSpark energy might be…well, it might be…

'Don’t get your hopes up, Sammy. They all promise a solution and nothing ever really works.' The voice of his father, pessimistic till the end, reminded him.

Soft pressure, somewhere, forced Sam out of his thoughts and back to focusing on First Aid, who felt sympathetic, “::I am going to bring you out of stasis, slowly[very], and we can confirm[test] if the firewall protections will be effective[safe], alright?::” The medic asked and Sam nodded, or sent a sense of confirmation, unconsciously curling closer to the feel of First Aid in trepidation. 

“What if…what if it doesn’t work?” Sam asked reluctantly. Scared.

A sensation like a warm hand running down his back would have startled him if the support wasn’t so welcome. “::If the firewalls[guards] do not offer enough support[protection] I will keep you in stasis[high] lock until a suitable replacement to the nullifying collar can be created[fabricated]. Skids has assured[confident] me that he can construct a new nullifier in half an Earth cycle.::” First Aid reassured him. 

Sam felt relieved, not the worst he could hope for. “Okay.” After a moment, he brushed against First Aid, “What do I do?” He asked uncertainly. 

“::Just relax, Sam.::” First Aid reassured the anxious Spark Touched, and already it felt different. Sensations were coming back and though they weren’t as overwhelming as they had been before, the Network was… there, but inaccessible like it was behind a door. He could almost sense it but just out of reach. The feelings of his body felt somewhat foreign after awareness without them for so long. It was almost like slipping on a person suit* right before he finally connected with consciousness.

He was on the ground in the recovery position, hip pressed to the earth in discomfort and cold. Someone had stuffed a jacket under his head, thankfully, so that his neck wasn’t going to have a weird crick in it.

The next sensation that he ascertained was just how awful he felt. Exhausted didn’t even begin to cover it. His head throbbed so badly that the first thing he did was roll onto his front in a vaguely pushup position and vomit not only the pulled pork sandwich he'd had for lunch up, but the breakfast burrito as well before hands were rolling him away from his rancid puddle and up into the hold of a set of arms which wrapped gently around him middle.

“Aid? Don’ feel good.” He muttered miserably, eyes caked closed by sweat. 

A moment later he was set on First Aid’s now very familiar gurney and then Will was there. Sam snapped his eyes open and then moaned at the light which only seemed to enhance his pain, but it was worth it to see that Will was okay if clearly quite concerned, they all were; his peripheral vision was filled with other concerned faces looking down at him. The man didn’t crowd in, but he was solid and just there and Sam appreciated it as First Aid’s warm hands started checking him over. 

First Aid’s calming voice running through a battery of status questions like: “Nausea?”, “Yeah”; “Exhaustion”, “Uhuh”; “Any signals?”, “Not yet”; and so on was a fantastic distraction while Sam tried to not throw up again. While questioning Sam, First Aid pulled up the sleeve of his sweater and hooked him up to a new IV bag and then inserted about five or six different syringes worth of liquid into the injection port. Sam was then allowed to simply lay there and blink up at the sky above them to try to find some kind of equilibrium. 

Will’s concerned face was just in view and Sam lolled his eyes to the man. “Will.” He croaked out. 

The man's brown eyes softened at his tone, “Hey Sam.” He said, moving to the other side of the gurney than where First Aid was still working. “Gave us a scare. How’re you feeling?”

Sam moaned, closing his eyes. “Wrecked.” Seemed the best description. “10 rounds with Mike Tyson. You okay?”

Will winced, “Better than 10 rounds with Mike Tyson. Just a headache and now I can hear them--” he canted his head towards the assembled bots who looked less overbearing if no less concerned at the two of them, “--but luckily it’s all in Cybertronian, so I can mostly tune it out. First Aid said your overload caused it; ‘accelerated the process’.” Will offered.

“'m sorry. Didn’t mean to…” Sam muttered as whatever was in the IV finally started taking effect, washing like cold water over his most pained parts.

Will raised a hand and carefully pushed Sam's tangled hair back, “I know buddy, you were pretty out of it.” Sam vaguely remembered how out of it he had been and even that had his cheeks flushed. “No one blames you for it though Sam, you’re going through a lot of changes right now.”

Sam grimaced a little at that wording, “This better not be a ‘puberty’ talk. I’d prefer to be in stasis.” He sassed now that it felt like his head wasn’t about to cave in. The twinkle in Will’s eye was worth it though and then the gurney was moving. Above him he could see the various bots, Barricade and Cliffjumper being the most noticeable as they were the tallest, but Skids and the motorcycles not far off. Sam raised his hand and waved a greeting, which seemed to relieve some of the tension in their various frames. 

Then the top of First Aid’s alt form was in his view and Barricade's holoform was at his side as he and First Aid lifted the gurney up and into the patient compartment, securing the gurney into place. 

Barricade’s eyes caught Sam’s and he looked the Spark Touched over with a calm, assessing gaze. It should have felt invasive, but even though Sam couldn’t hear anyone or feel them as distinctly as he’d been able to do earlier, he did feel [concern] from the holoform and Barricade’s eyes softened slightly. “Gonna be okay, Squishy?”

Tipping his head, Sam tugged the corner of the side of his mouth up in either a grin or a wince, “Not dead yet.”

Barricade smiled in relief, reaching up and pushing Sam’s hair out of his face. “Let me know if that changes.”

The proximity to Barricade’s holoforms field let Sam know that Barricade was amused, but also anxious, like one is after a big scare. “Thanks, ‘Cade.” Sam murmured.

Instead of verbally answering Barricade patted his thigh and disappeared in a burst of blue static light. Sam barely noticed as the sound of transformation cogs engaged as the towering mechanoids shrank to their roadworthy alt modes, though he felt clear emotions over his…fields? with concern, fear, worry and vaguely of danger. 

First Aid returned to the side of Sam's face when suddenly First Aid perked up and looked to the open doors on the patient compartment. “You'll need to sit in the jump seat.” He said like he was having a conversation with someone that Sam hadn't heard. Will looked surprised and Sam realized that Will had used the Network to speak with First Aid.

Looking back towards Cliffjumper and tilting his head towards the red muscle car, Will dipped his head to the medic and followed the mech's instructions, jacket over his arm as he took the jump seat which, when Sam tilted his head, meant that he could look at Will. The doors closed after Will settled and the heater in the compartment kicked on as First Aid began to move. 

Sam's grasp on the waking word was loose at best and barely there at worst. Still, he forced eye open. “‘m sorry.” He mumbled again.

The warm hand of First Aid's holoform gently brushed an errant curl from his face. “You're exhausted. It's time for good little Sparks to sleep.” He said, tweaking Sam's nose before turning to the General. “The diazepam is already kicking in, he'll be a little loopy but should be out like a light shortly.” The medic explained in a soothing tone, the words losing meaning pretty much after ‘exhausted’ for Sam.

Despite what First Aid said, Sam did get little snapshots of consciousness irregularly after that. Will and First Aid talking beside him, the blanket being adjusted over him, hitting a pothole that had Will grunting, and a frisson of [annoyance] rippling through what Sam realized was First Aid's own part of their bond before it quieted down again.

Even mostly asleep Sam curiously poked at it and felt First Aid's mild surprise before a flare of [affection][mild exasperation] flared in their bond. There was a hand in his hair and Sam rallied with difficulty to peel his eyes open. 

Bright blue, First Aid's eyes checked his before looking him over. “Well, you metabolize everything just as quickly it seems.” He remarked enigmatically before he smiled. “Since you are awake, you should know we're stopping soon for the evening. It's been a busy day.”

Speaking was too hard but thinking ‘You got that right’ wasn't. Whether that had carried on the Network or had just been visible in his expression was up for some debate but in either case First Aid understood Sam's thoughts loud and clear as he adjusted the IV line to Sam's port and tidied him up before adjusting the blanket higher on Sam's chest, kind of tucking him in.

“How you feeling, Sam?” Will's voice asked from just beyond First Aid's shoulder. 

Sam made a grunt, though it had a bit more of a whine edge than he'd been hoping. “Tired.” He managed.

First Aid gave him a pointed look, his own ‘Then maybe you should have stayed asleep’ just as loud as Sam's own snark had been. It eased something in Sam, a swell of [affection] traveling between their bond initiating a burst of [surprise] from First Aid. Sam didn't understand how there could be so much communication between them without any words at all. He knew Cybertrons many dialects but this was as foreign as Greek and yet as familiar as a lullaby to him. 

Will placed his hand on Sam's ankle. “Understandable. We're about half an hour from the CloudBnB; I'm sending some folks to grab food - you need to eat, any preferences?”

Hand in the sheets, Sam turned his head into his pillow away from Will. His mouth still tasted like vomit and he wanted nothing to do with food right now.

“I’ll take that as a ‘no preference’ then.” Will sighed, hand giving his ankle a assuring squeeze.

Will could take it however he wanted right off the bridge of ‘no fucking way’. 

The zing was a surprise. 

Poleaxed, Sam blinked heavy eyes at First Aid as the mech gave him a pointed look and then drew the blanket up his torso. The mild rebuke wasn't angry, Sam doesn't think, more ‘mind your manners’ if he was going to describe it as anything. Sam tried sending a general sense of ‘sass’ back and noted that the holoforms lip twitched in amusement before First Aid’s holoform disappeared in a small flurry of blue static.

It was quiet in the patient compartment after that save for the normal sounds of the road under them. Sam was awake, kind of, but not awake enough to be present.

Unbothered, Will was busy with his phone and Sam found himself luxuriating in the lack of signal pounding like an ice pick behind his left ear like it would have just a week prior. 

A week.

“Whadayizzit?” Sam managed through an uncooperative mouth.

Will blinked up from the cellphone to regard him before swiping down on the screen, “Sunday. God, is it only Sunday?” The General huffed a laugh. 

His entire world has changed in 5 days. He wondered, briefly, if the old adage that God made the world in 7 days might have felt like this. If so Sam could sympathize.

The quiet stretched until turns and stops started being introduced to the driving plan and Sam concluded that they must be approaching their place for the night through the arterial roads off the highway. The logic of staying at a CloudBnb made sense, the night prior had illustrated just how dangers without weren’t the only thing that Sam needed to worry about; the dangers within could be just as unwelcome.

First Aid’s holoform materialized to the side of the gurney in a gentle flash of blue light, drawing Sam’s lolling attention. “We’ll arrive in a few minutes. I’m going to disconnect your IV and then we’re going to do a quick assessment to check your systems, okay?” The Medic confirmed, checking Sam’s IV bag and port before clamping the line and disengaging the cannula from his port. Clasping Sam’s wrists, First Aid pulled and maneuvered Sam up and into a sitting position, Sam helping as much as he was able to to turn and dangle his legs over the side of the gurney and look at First Aid. 

The system assessment was almost exactly the same as Sam’s post seizure assessment, including the pressing and pulling motions that he was used to. First Aid then asked Sam some math questions, how to spell a selection of increasingly difficult words, and confirm his birthdate. Some minor reflex checks. It was only after the manual check that Sam felt the now familiar tingle of the scanner checking him over.

“So, will I live, doc?” Sam managed to joke with an exhausted smile and felt First Aid’s answering [amusement].

The medic gave him a look, “It appears so. In fact, your glucose usage appears to be improving--marginally.” First Aid acknowledged. “Signals are still being blocked?”

Nodding, Sam raised a hand and shoved his long hair out of his face. “Yeah. It’s…weird. Feels different than before, with the nullifiers.” He revealed because it did feel different, though he didn’t really have the words to explain how. 

Giving Sam an understanding look, First Aid nodded. “You’re inside of my Guardian Protocols, they work in a fundamentally different way than a nullifier would. Once we have you settled on base we’ll work on building your own, but it’s not an easy process for Cybertronians, so I don’t know what to expect going forward with your kind.” He admitted. “But I suppose we’ll have to find out soon enough; isn’t that right, General?”

Sam glanced beyond First Aid’s shoulder at Will as the alt-form slowed to a full stop before accelerating again. 

Will snorted. “Cliff and the others have been offering advice but so far the only helpful thing that anyone’s offered was Ray, and ‘Don’t think shit’ stops working after you’re a private.” He groused good naturedly. “Most of the ‘bots moved to a private channel so it hasn’t been too distracting.” he revealed. 

There was a slight bump below them and then the sound of tires over gravel as they finally arrived to the CloudBnb. Sam sat, hunkered, until First Aid's alt form came to a full and complete stop and Will unbuckled himself from the jump seat. 

The doors to the back popped open and the early evening air was cool but not cold as it filled the compartment.

“Where are we?” Sam asked as First Aid helped to maneuver him up. He still felt like he'd just run a marathon, legs shaky as a colts, but First Aid wrapped his arm around Sam's waist and hooked the younger man's arm over his shoulders to hoist him into a supported standing position. 

Will hopped down from the patient compartment and held out his arms to aid Sam down from the elevated interior. “Just north of Redding, a bit outside Lake Shasta. Defensible and out of the way but the photos also look nice.” He winked as he bore Sam's weight to the ground where the smaller man took a moment to find his footing. He then proceeded to wrap Sam up in his large parka which the teenaged bodied septuagenarian accepted with relief. 

It was a nice house. Big. It was clearly designed as a vacation home, a modern one without the kitschy feel most family vacation homes had. It was all clean lines with large solar panels up top and wood and metal siding like from an architectural magazine. It abutted a small body of water, not a pond but not a lake, and there were woods on either side as far as Sam could see outside the gravel road. There was also, notably, space enough for the Cybertronian's alt-modes - though almost immediately the motorcycles were out of their alt-modes and just as quickly making a beeline for Sam and Will. 

Barricade pulled up close behind them and popping the door open Epps and Frenzy stepped out to join them, the little mech out of his holoform for once and coming to Sam's hip. “Hey, you okay?” The cassette asked, blue optics examining Sam with jerky motions.

Sam, still using Will for support, waffled his hand a bit. “I feel like I'm at a 10% charge, and my home screen is giving low battery warnings.” He admitted.

From the front of the house, Cliffjumper opened the entrance door. “Let's get them inside.” He intoned to the group and Sam was more than happy to let Will help him towards the door though he was slightly less thrilled by Frenzy helping as the cassette was about as comfortable as a pile of construction cast offs. 

Still, when the couch came into view he didn't really care as he lurched forward towards it and fell face first into it's honestly kind of uncomfortable cushions. 

“Skids say what their Eta is?” Will asked above Sam as he felt a small body, bigger than the mech form of Frenzy, settle above his head in the remaining cushion of the couch Sam had face planted into. 

“Yeah, they're about 10 minutes out.” Frenzy’s kid voice said from next to Sam. 

Turning his head, he squinted at Frenzy who had adopted his blond visage again and was parked on the ground in front of Sam, a new console and game in hand. It looked like a GameBoy color and the soft sound let him know that the little mech was playing Pokémon, the Pavlovian response to the so familiar background music almost like PTSD in its own right. Lifting his head he noted the femininely shaped thigh above his head and concluded that one of the two sisters had taken the spot before flopping down again. 

After a moment he felt…it was complicated, more so than usual emotions, as Chromia brushed against his fields. 

“Huh?” He asked elegantly. That's your man Sam, smooth as ice.

The amusement was easier to understand. “Can I pull you forward? You look uncomfortable.” Chromia asked. 

Lifting his arms to try to push himself up to rather a poor showing he finally flopped. “Yeah, sure.” He mumbled into the synth leather and then felt her grasp him under the armpits and tug and roll him onto his side, head resting on her thigh as she carefully ran her hand through his hair. 

She made a humming noise but her fields felt [pleased], “Is this alright?” She asked. 

Sam, who was exhausted, hummed in assent. It was pleasant. He liked the way that the Cybertronians felt, like coming home after being away for too long, and though he wasn't as familiar with Chromia personally she was calm, and cool, and her hand gently stroking his hair felt nostalgic. He nodded, uninterested in talking, and tried to convey [appreciation] across her fields which caused her to pause stroking his hair. In fact, it caused everyone else in the room to also pause before Chromia started laughing.

Frenzy snickered at him, “Man, it's just some head pets, isn't like she saved your life or nothing.” At Sam's confused face the little holoform rolled his eyes, “You were like, giving a HUUUUGE thanks.”

Closing his eyes, Sam shrugged. “I'm still learning how it works.” He defended himself tiredly. 

Frenzy turned back to his game, “Pft, yeah. Might want to learn how to tone it down, or people’re going to get an impression.” He advised, making an annoyed noise when Chromia’s foot connected with his side. “I'm just saying!” He defended himself.

“Maybe you've never been around New Sparks, but I have. Over-sharing is completely normal.” She huffed. “At least behind the guardian protocols he can't send data packets.” She reminded them.

Will came over and sat on the coffee table in front of Chromia, his knee gently tapping Frenzy who huffed but moved slightly to the side to give the General more room but still, weirdly, protectively in front of Sam. Giving the little holoform a slightly exasperated look, Will refocused on Sam. “Hey.” He greeted, looking Sam over. 

Yawning, Sam reached out and patted Will’s knee with his hand. “Hi.” Before bringing it back in and tucking it back next to his chest. The CloudBnB wasn’t as cold as his own drafty house, much more drafty now after someone had decided to use the missile remodeling method on it, but Sam still felt chilled. If Will was cold he would have to fight to pry this parka off Sam’s cold skinny body.

Instead of initiating battle, Will tilted his head. “I’m gonna bunk with you tonight, I think we’ll both feel a little better for it. That cool with you?”

Sam tilted his brows up, consideringly, before tentatively nodding. “I have nightmares.” He warned.

Nodding, Will gave him a rueful look, “Yeah, I remember. You did okay last night.”

'After I sleep walked right out of the hotel.' Sam didn’t say but from the look on Will’s face he picked up on the thought even without their nascent Network bonds. Will gave him a snort, reached forward and squeezing Sam's shoulder before he stood up. “Let me know when Skids and Steeljaw are arriving, I'm going to grab a quick shower.”

Sleepily, Sam perked up at the mention of the Mechanimal. If Sam was honest with himself, he had grown a little fond of Steeljaw. It probably wasn’t fair - Steeljaw was hired help rather than part of the Cybertronian Delegation, which meant that while he was helping everyone who had basically upended Sam’s peaceful life, Steeljaw wasn’t one of the people responsible for it. And while Sam wasn’t…well, okay, he was a bit angry that he hadn’t really had a choice in leaving his home from the sudden pirate and terrorists invasion, and was a bit resentful of the Cybertronians themselves for bringing chaos to his door, all Steeljaw had done was make sure that Sam was as safe as the Mechanimal could reasonably keep him given the circumstanced they'd found themselves in. It might all be fake but... Sam suspected that if even just a little bit the Mechanimal had been genuine with him.

He wished, suddenly, that he was on his own uncomfortable couch in his own cold living room with a pang like a wound. He might have been a prisoner in a lot of ways in his own home, but it had also been his safe place, his sanctuary.

Out here was scary, and weird, and everything was different enough to disquiet him. While he couldn’t see a TV in the living room, Sam assumed that didn’t mean there wasn’t one somewhere, fancy technology being what it was. Just like he assumed that there was probably some kind of automation system in the house, and who knew what else. It was like living in a sci-fi novel, a little bit, but his years without technology made him feel intimidated by it rather than intrigued by it.

He’d completely missed the response before Chromia hummed, gently running her fingers through his hair. “Hey there, I don’t know what’s wrong but your fields are definitely giving some negative feedback.” She said quietly. “You okay?”

Oh, and there was also the definite lack of privacy.

Huffing, Sam nodded and curled in tighter. “I’m cold, and tired.” He deflected. While that wasn’t why he was upset, it was also true. Chromia made a ‘coo’ sound and a moment later a blanket, soft and warm, was draped over him. 

A warm hand pressed to his forehead. “You leak heat like a sieve.” Arcee confirmed quietly where she was leaning over the back of the couch. “I’m going to go turn up the heat a bit. Maybe get a fire started?” She said enthusiastically to someone behind the couch and Sam got the impression it was Cliffjumper. 

There was a big, black, modern fireplace but Sam was pretty sure it wasn’t like he black belly stove and ran on something other than chords of wood. Cliff’s investigation revealed a touch screen pad that looked like a painting to the side of the behemoth showing itself to be a basic control device and within moments the fireplace had erupted into carefully controlled flames that Sam knew would warm up the living room soon enough.

He felt a soft brush through his mind as First Aid checked on him, [understanding] and [sympathy] followed as the medic gathered what had set Sam into a gray mood to begin with. Sam wasn’t sure what to do with the lack of privacy, it was invasive but it wasn’t necessarily unwelcome. He'd struggled to communicate his roiling emotions with humans for year and had millions of people in his head for even longer but it was different when the person was actually there to like, talk to. Sam realized, belatedly, that he was feeling over stimulated now that he was awake and there were so many people and now he could feel all of them and they could feel him. 

Chromia’s hand slowed in his hair. “If this isn’t okay I can stop.” She offered quietly.

Sam pressed a hand to his eyes, “It’s not…it’s not you, Chromia. I’m--” He huffed a little, “--It’s been a really rough week. I am not feeling good.” He admitted.

Chromia was quiet for a moment before petting his hair. “I’m afraid I’m not much of an authority on humans.” She said thoughtfully. “But the web suggests a hot bath might help sooth some of it. Considering you’re already cold, that might be nice.”

Frowning, Sam considered that. His house had only had the shower so he hadn’t had a bath in at least 20 years, but he also couldn’t say that he’d had a bath in the twenty years before that either. Maybe hydrotherapy at one of the retreat style treatment programs, when his parents had still had the money for it. 

Epps leaned over the back of the couch and folded his arms. “If I had the day you had? I’d want a hot soak too. They got one of those jacuzzi tubs up in the master, I think Will’s setting you two up in there anyway. Why don’t you have a bath and we’ll keep the food warm for you?”

Sam frowned, “Aren’t Skids and Steeljaw on their way?”

Epps snorted, “Restaurant order system messed up and Skids said the food looked gross anyway. They’re hitting another spot so they’re gonna be a while.” He sighed, looking down the back hallway. “Will’s grabbing his shower down here so you're good if you want to.”

There wasn’t a reason not to, he guessed, other than the possibility of a random seizure. Which, meant, for safety's sake he should probably have someone supervising lest he end up like that kid in Paranormal Activity 4. “I dunno, guys, I’m epileptic. I’m kind of a drowning hazard.” He joked, kind of. “But one does sound nice.” He sighed. 

Epps winced, “Oh, yeah, man - sorry.” He sighed. “One of the guys could monitor you, though, right?”

Sam sat up, keeping the blanket wrapped tight around him. With the fire going, and the blanket on and the room was slowly warming Sam knew he'd eventually be comfortable but Sam was a long way from being warm currently. “I mean, I guess. But wouldn’t that be, like, weird?” He said, suddenly feeling unsure.

Awkward.

It wasn’t a pleasant feeling.

Chromia and Frenzy both looked at him, confused, “Why would that be weird? We’re already monitoring you.” Frenzy frowned curiously. “Just cuz you’re in water doesn’t change that.” He scoffed.

Epps pressed his hand to his face, “Frenzy, man, it’s not the water that’s the problem. You remember that lil module in your Human Relations course about ‘personal boundaries’ and ‘modesty’?” He said leadingly.

The little mech frowned and then looked at Sam in confusion, “Are you concerned we’re going to see your penis?” Frenzy asked, blasé as you please.

Right now, above all other times, Sam wished he was in his house writing at his typewriter and a billion miles away from any Cybertronian. 

Chromia, Arcee and Barricade suddenly appeared very interested in the conversation. Sam frowned, helplessly. He realized, suddenly, it wasn’t really that someone could potentially see his penis that was making him uncomfortable with that idea, though he wasn’t particularly keen on that part either, but that someone would actually see him. He didn’t want anyone seeing him. Not, like, right now. Not when he was…

He wasn’t blind, alright? He knew what he looked like, and just because no one else saw that he was all elbows and knees and ribs and clavicles because he was so skinny didn’t mean that he wanted them to see him, like, ever.

“Alright, you lot.” First Aid cut in. “I know that you are curious, but I can also tell that you know Sam is feeling uncomfortable with where this conversation has ended up.” He chastised Frenzy specifically but gave the other three a pointed look as well. “Human’s are private about their bodies, it’s a social custom that we’re to respect as much as possible. And talking about someone’s genitals in public when they haven’t initiated the conversation is very bad form.” He zinged Frenzy with a bit of static which caused the little mech to huff, turning back to his game. 

Frenzy dipped lower on the floor, “Well I don’t get why a release nozzle is such a ‘Big Deal’.” He huffed, “It’s not even like its special, half of them have one and they plaster them aaaaaallllll over the internet.” He grumbled just loud enough to be heard. 

Sam, for his part, couldn’t help but start giggling at the absolutely absurd conversation that he was having. “It’s…” He frowned, realizing that he’d said anything, but the attention suddenly shifted back to him and he pulled the blanket tighter around himself before looking away. “It’s not, like, really that.” He tried to explain. “I’m…I’m sick, you know? And that--” He rubbed his hands on his knees. “--that means I’m…I look sick. And I don’t want…”

It was Barricade who filled in the blanks, “And you don’t want people to see that you're vulnerable.” He said, thoughtfully. 

Staring at his knees, Sam nodded. 

“A primal instinct then.” Arcee started.

Chromia nodded, “There is a lot of research about Terran animals hiding weakness.”

“To avoid predation and social ostracization.” Frenzy add. 

Barricade lent his hip next to Epps on the couch, “Especially solitary or isolated group members.” He rumbled thoughtfully. “And you’ve been alone so long, showing vulnerability and weakness is understandably uncomfortable.” He finished.

Shrinking a little, not having expected to have a full rundown in the living room, Sam shrugged uncomfortably. “It’s stupid.” He chastised himself.

Arcee shoved Frenzy a little to sit more in front of Sam on the coffee table, the same as Will had and before he realized it she’d grabbed his hand from the blanket. “No, no it isn’t. Human instincts were developed over millions of years and untold iterations to provide you the strongest basis of survival in an incredibly harsh and difficult environment. Earth is, in comparison to many worlds, particularly pitiless and dangerous. It's nearly inhospitable to a large segment of the biological alien races in, say, the Galactic Council*. The guys on base keep joking that you’re on a ‘Death World*’ but they aren’t wrong per se.” She said, giving his hand a squeeze. “We know that you’ve been sick, but we don’t think less of you for it.”

Cliff’s voice from the dining room followed Arcee’s, “We actually think pretty highly of you for it. You survived where you could have more easily not.” He said with a considerate look on his face. “I suppose I, above most people here, understand how fickle fate can be because, as has been explained to me, I don’t always live to see the next battle.” He said quietly and Sam realized that someone had told Cliffjumper about Sam’s meltdown when he realized that Cliffjumper was alive.

Seeing Sam’s face fall, Cliffjumper waved it away. “I didn’t mean to diminish your concerns with my revelation, Sam. I only wished to empathize. As you know our systems may appear very different but function similarly, but I cannot imagine having a systems bug as impactful as yours and functioning as well as you have for nearly a vorn*. You have nothing to feel shame for, let alone to us.” He explained, coming forward and setting one of his large hands on Sam’s blanket covered shoulders. “Whether you feel comfortable taking a bath with supervision or maybe just want to take a shower, we just want you to feel comfortable.”

Nodding, feeling a different kind of overwhelmed, Sam shrugged. “Maybe just a shower, tonight.” He settled on.

Epps nodded, “Shower it is. They got the nice soaps too, like that Bath and Bodyworks shit.” He snorted. “I’m sure Will’s gonna smell like either a baked good or some kind of bouquet when he’s done. Basically biological warfare.” He teased the Cybertronians who looked at him in bafflement. 

Seeing their confused and mildly alarmed faces, Sam rolled his eyes. “It’s not really; it’s just heavily perfumed bath products. If you’re sensitive, they can be a bit overwhelming or irritating. My mom liked them.” He admitted sentimentally, before slowly sliding around Frenzy who looked up at him with…did that face look regretful? Frenzy? Sam didn’t even mean to nudge him companionably as he stood up and let the blanket flop onto the couch, but the almost shy (Primus on Cybertron, Frenzy, REALLY?!) look he received caused Sam not to regret doing so. His fields, at least, seemed authentic.

First Aid met his eyes from where his holoform was investigating the kitchen and the soft [question][concern][help?] was less intrusive than Sam thought he would have taken it a few minutes ago. He just smiled, rather than attempt to send back [reassurance] because that might have…

Actually.

The [reassurance] was easier to send out than the [gratitude] had been, but he could see the moment that it hit everyone, Epps included. The relieved/amused expressions on everyone’s faces as he turned and beat a hasty retreat to look for the master bedroom and the bathroom was nice.

Chapter Text

The shower was huge.

Like, Arcee and Sam could both be in the shower and not be touching. In her bipedal form. 

“Primus, what are you trying to freakin’ clean in here, a Clydesdale?” Sam wondered to himself before going back into the bedroom, also a bit ostentatious in size, and grabbing the backpack leaned against the wall by the door. Opening it, Sam confirmed that it was his, eyeing the bed longingly before returning to the bathroom.

The bathroom had been designed with ‘spa vibes’ in mind and had the square footage to match. Big shower, big tub, toilet room, and a vanity with one of those sitting areas that his mom used to gripe about not having. Not after they had to sell the house and downsize after the first few years of therapy for Sam. Sam avoided looking at the mirror altogether for reasons with a twist of embarrassment and shame.

The water when he turned it on was instantly hot and he had to adjust the temperature while also trying to get out of his clothes fast enough to not waste the hot water. Clothes (except for his yellow hoodie) left in a pile on the floor, Sam groaned at the nearly boiling water as he just stood there under it.

Everything hurt. Not like, damaged, but like one does after a really arduous workout, the kind you're not really supposed to do. Or an especially bad seizure as he was all too familiar with. They had been unfortunately more common as of late and so the ache, though quite a bit stronger, was familiar and very much unwanted.

Opening his eyes as he ducked his face out of the water, he saw that the shower did have the nice smelling bath stuff. It seemed like a weird luxury to have in a rental house. Sam pulled a bottle down and after giving it an experimental sniff (Guava?) used the body wash to scrub himself down, being particularly careful of his IV port area. He’d had a few over the years and was familiar with their care and maintenance. While this one was newer by decades than the ones he'd used last, there were certain things that didn’t really seem change that much over such a short…long? Short amount of time. 

Washing his hands brought his attention to the damaged one. He hadn't even noticed it but his wounds from yanking the last IV out during his nightmare fit were totally gone, as were his scraped knuckles from punching Barricade. Back to normal. He didn’t even have any of those nice yellow bruises left. 

Thoughtfully he washed off the layers of bubbles and did a few deep stretches now that his muscles were a little looser and groaned at the pull. It wasn’t unpleasant so much as it was a lot. Finally, feeling loose limbed, tired, and finally warm, Sam shut the water off and pulled the towel off the hook by the shower door and scrubbed his head off before wiping off the rest of his body and wrapping the towel around his waist. 

Part of Sam wanted to put his normal clothes back on. They might not have been particularly comfortable to sleep in, but they were warm and Sam wasn't enthusiastic about the prospect of another late night excursion in his pajamas, but with so many guards(?) Sam hoped that he wouldn't need to worry about it. But who could really know? His expulsion from his home certainly hadn't been planned. 

Still, Sam pulled on his pajamas and then yanked the yellow hoody over his head, feeling more comfortable when it had settle onto his shoulders. Maybe not as much as Will’s coat, but even he knew he'd come off looking weird hunkered in the other man's parka in the middle of the living room with the fireplace going. 

Rolling his laundry except for his jeans up and putting them into his laundry bag, Sam slung the jeans over the bag and carried them both to the door. In case he needed to beat a hasty retreat suddenly.

For any reason. 

Coming out of the bedroom, Sam heard laughter and voices from the front of the house and came to the great room to find that Skids and Steeljaw had returned triumphantly bearing gifts of plenty. Enough that Sam was pretty convinced that neither ‘bot knew what human portion sizes actually were.

Lennox and Epps, however, didn't seem particularly bothered by the spread of Mediterranean fare. There was bread, kabobs, rice, spreads (like a dozen???), veggies of every color of the rainbow and more.

“Someone got the corporate card, didn’t they?” He joked a bit as he joined them, feeling a little awkward only for Skids eyes to light up and almost bound to him, wrapping his long arm around Sam and drawing him closer like a…like a friend. 

Skids smile was genuine, his fields [pleased][proud] as he led Sam to the table, “Sam-ma-man, check out the spread!” He grinned, waving at the food. “Dunno ‘bout you but these two ol’ ladies always complainin’ ‘bout ‘no good Moussaka’ back at base, so what me an’ Steeljaw do? Find da best this town got.” He said delightedly, parking Sam into one of the dining chairs next to a freshly showered and amused Lennox who, true to Skids claim, had a heaping plate of a lot of everything.

The rest of the table where the spread of food hadn't invaded was littered with holoforms, the ten seater dining set holding everyone comfortably. Chromia was not so subtly watching Lennox and Epps eat with interest while Arcee and Cliffjumper were busy laughing over something next to Barricade who was asking his neighbor Epps about something in a paper clamshell between them. 

Steeljaw was even included, though he was parked as far down the table from the humans as possible - though he looked nonplussed by it. He looked, if anything, amused by the security measure. 

Just as Sam got settled, the empty chair that Skids was just about to pull out for himself was suddenly occupied by a much smaller holoform. A certain blonde haired terror was suddenly slouched down in the chair with a game console in his little hands and Sam very much saw the smirk on that smug little face the second that Skids realized he’d been outmaneuvered. 

Skids shook the chair a bit since, as a reminder, their ‘human’ forms were in fact merely hard light constructs with a sugar coating of sensory input in an aesthetically pleasing package. This caused the little mech to clearly attach himself to the chair with grips from his legs that Sam was pretty sure would be impossible for someone with actual bones. 

Barricade looked over at them with an ‘are you serious right now’ face that Sam was actually far more familiar with on his mechanoid form as he was drawn out of his discussion with Epps. “Oi, ::Gasket Breath::, leave the ::cassette:: alone.” He growled and the table stilled for a second.

Cassettes fit into a strange place in Cybertronian society, Sam was aware. All Cassettes had been Forged*. There were no Cold Construct* cassettes. They were regarded as as close to noble as a bot could get without actually being highborn. Each was artisanal and unique with particularly fine protoforms that were a huge expense for those who would raise them, and an incredible boon to the Carrier mech they’d eventually bond with. The engineering that went into each one was exceptional, technically challenging, held to the highest of standards and so only a few craftsmen were ever even considered for the task. Frenzy and Rumble, for example, had been commissioned as a set centuries before their sparks had even arisen from the High Caste hot bed that their Guardian had harvested them from. 

So, no matter what the intrinsic value to a Cybertronian was, the extrinsic value meant that long before Frenzy Cassettes had been venerated and respected as esteemed historians and finders of stories. They were very distinguished and acclaimed by the majority of Cybertronian Society. Or they had been. Sam's information was apparently millennia off, but he was pretty sure the bias probably still held.

Shaking the chair of one, even a little ::fragger:: like Frenzy, would have gotten Skids empurata* during the ‘Golden Age’ of Cybertron.

Before the tension could increase, though, Sam scooted over in his chair and poked the Cassettes arm. “You are being a sneaky little bastard; you can just sit with me.” He groused to the little mech and before he was even done talking Frenzy had uncurled from the chair in contention and slid into Sam's, immediately leaning his head against Sam’s shoulder and slouching down to focus on the Nintendo Switch that had disappeared during the chair shaking and yet appeared like magic in his hands with an already active game of Bayonetta 3 playing, thumbs immediately on the controls.

The table and all of the people at it stared at Frenzy, who didn’t acknowledge them literally at all, and Sam who in a flash of insight realized that they’d literally all just been played by the little scraplet*.

Reluctantly, Sam felt a grudging sense of respect for Frenzy for manipulating the situation so perfectly to the result he had desired all along by playing his companions like a violin. 

The laugh that burst out of him mouth surprised Sam probably more than it did anyone else, but soon he found himself hunched over, arms wrapped around his gut laughing like he hadn’t since he had been a kid. When he looked up he realized that while he had been the first, he hadn’t been the last. Will had his face in his hand with his shoulders jerking regularly while Epps had his head thrown back, arm wrapped around Barricade who, though he had a rueful look on his face, was also chuckling. 

Even Frenzy was trying to hide his laughter, but Sam noted that he’d paused the game to give some little chuckles of his own. 

The only one not laughing was Skids who had assumed his rightful position in the chair in question that their tête-à-tête had been about moodily glaring at the scraggly little Cassette basically sandwiched between them. Skids rolled his eye when Frenzy's constantly kicking leg kept knocking his chair and looked particularly aggrieved but also as though he had just come to accept it as another part of his lot in life. Sam, smiling, reached over and patted the holoform's shoulder carefully, like a friend would, which caused the holoforms shoulders to loosen and cast Sam a grateful glance.

“Well, with that out of the way, I think it’s time to put something on Sam’s plate.” First Aid prodded from where he’d joined them from the kitchen, a tall glass of water in his hand that he set down very deliberately in front of Sam’s place mat.  

While Sam wasn’t really hungry even he was enticed by the smells of saffron and spice. Leaning forward, Sam was amused to feel Frenzy, who was back to acting like he was ignoring everyone, moving with him as he debated what to grab.

Taking a couple of dolma, Sam cautiously brushed against the bond he had with First Aid. The medic sent back [curiosity] as Sam tried to articulate his question. ‘Is Frenzy usually like this?' He tried asking through their connection.

There was a pause before [amusement] echoed in their bond. ‘::Generally? No, but he is attached[friends][bonded] to certain Spark Touched. He’s very fond[loves][is a brat to] of Glen and Raf, two other Spark Touched, back on base.::’ First Aid admitted thoughtfully. ‘::It's unusual to form this strong of a bond[connection][interest] though.::’ He contributed as Sam added some rice and hummus to his plate.

Will's watched Sam's unimpressive progress before spearing some baked chicken from another container and dumping it on his plate. “Protein. Man shouldn't have to live on carbohydrates alone*, complex or otherwise.” He joked, taking a spoon and dolloping a hunk of something red and oily onto Sam's plate next. “Muhammara, it’s basically walnuts and red peppers - this one isn’t spicy though.” He gestured. “It’s pretty good for Westernized.”

The plate in Sam's hands was suddenly very full, too full, but Sam could admit that he was curious. When he’d lived in San Diego, after his parents had passed and when he’d been under Bernice’s ‘Guardianship’, he’d lived within walking distance of a few food pods which had always smelled delicious but for which he’d had no money for. He got grocery deliveries twice a month and a personal care person in twice a week to make sure he was alive and working, so ‘pocket money’ was deemed to be beyond of his needs.

When he’d been free he’d lived on takeout for almost a year before the signal issues had made using the technology to order the food difficult/impossible to use. While he'd been able to though he’d tried everything that he’d been unable to have while under the conservatorship, including plenty of Mediterranean food, but he’d never even heard a muhammara before.

It was tangy, and rich, and the texture was curious but pleasant. It was even sweet, and Sam made a pleased 'hmm' around his spoon after closing his eyes and just letting the flavor sit there. 

The charge around the room picked up suddenly and Sam was forced out of his culinary rapture to find that every eye in the room was on him. Blinking, he swallowed and saw more than one gaze track it down.

“Uh, guys?” He asked trepidatiously.

Barricade responded first, “Is that what…flavor is to you?” He asked in bafflement, clearly very curious but just as clearly very confused by what he'd just experienced.

Sam’s own confusion was palpable and suddenly Frenzy was twisting in the chair, Switch thunking to the ground, abandoned, as the little mech turned his entire focus on Sam. “You can broadcast flavor!” He practically crowed, excited beyond measure and Sam remembered that Frenzy had ‘eaten’ corn bread at lunch to try to categorize it as an entry for Soundwave, his Carrier, but Frenzy couldn’t taste any of it.

Looking around in befuddlement, Sam turned to First Aid and Will, both to his right, and looked at them helplessly, “What?”

First Aid leaned forward and Sam felt the sweep of a scanner over him, focused on the upper section of his body as the medic made a thoughtful sound. “It was like a shortwave data burst, but across our fields. Not a memory, not information, but sensation. Like when we have ::communion::.” He said thoughtfully. “But not like any I have seen before.”

Frenzy didn’t care what they were discussing, he’d grabbed a dolma with his hand and held it out to Sam. “Try this!” He demanded, clearly overcome by his own curious cassette nature to record whatever Sam was doing to supplement his own research.

Holding up his hand, Sam leaned away. “Just a sec, Frenzy. I don’t know what’s happening.” He bargained to the little mech’s clear consternation. “I sent eating sensations to…who?”

Will raised his hand first but within a few seconds everyone else had also raised their hands, looking intrigued and bewildered. Steeljaw, in particular, looked incredibly befuddled but just as keen as Frenzy; Sam could see him moving the hard light version of his jaw around and Sam realized that he was unconsciously searching for the sensation of flavor that had hit them all so suddenly. 

Tapping his finger on the table, Epps flashed his teeth in a smile, “That shit is good if it tastes like what you just sent.” He joked, reaching forward and dipping a spoon into it and stuffing it in his own mouth. Everyone paused, curious if the General would be able to mimic what Sam had done.

Barricade leaned to the side a little, his fields intrigued and curious. “I got some of that. It wasn’t as clear.” He admitted to the table.

The other Cybertronians looked a little disappointed but captivated, and while Sam couldn’t hear them himself both Epps and Will’s faces let him know that the rest of the table was having a rapid conversation across the Network that they could hear. 

Sam frowned though, looking between Epps and Barricade. “Why did Barricade feel Epps but no one else did?”

Whatever he said caused the entire room to go still for a moment, and Sam was almost afraid that he’d said something wrong or rude or something when Will tapped the table to catch his attention away from the awkward(?) faces staring back at him. Turning to Will, Sam found his own brown eyes much more comforting. “Epps and Barricade connected earlier today when you released the AllSpark pulse. It’s not like your Guardian Bond with First Aid but it’s substantially more than no bond.” He explained.

Nodding thoughtfully, Sam opened his mouth to ask another question when a finger sized dolma popped into it instead.

“::Frenzy!::” Barricade barked and Sam was forced to lean back and chew to get away from the impatient little cassette whose face was riveted inches away from his own. Someone picked the Holoform up under the armpits to haul him away and Sam was treated to the sight of the holoform dissipating in a burst of blue static and the briefcase sized body of the mech first tumbling to the ground before bursting open and like a knife weasel or a lizard Frenzy scurried under the table and between peoples legs to dash through to the living room where he puffed up like a cat with daggers for fur.

This Frenzy and his first Frenzy morphologically weren’t completely the same, but nor were they really that different. This Frenzy was more…substantial seemed the right word, there was more to him, though that might be just because he was lifting the panels on his frame in a clear anger/fear display which Sam had never seen before in real life. The mechanimal cassettes, like Ravage and even Steeljaw maybe, but never from a standard bipedal build.

It apparently was not common because everyone froze before Barricade pushed back from the table and stood up, turning to the living room where the smaller mech was crouched and walking over. Frenzy warbled a noise that wasn’t a word, though the ‘stay back’ intent was clear as day to at least Sam, but to which Barricade didn’t listen before crouching down a few feet from where Frenzy had stilled, elbows on his knees and tilted his head to regard Frenzy. They must have been talking because after a minute the plates shifted down and back flat to his frame and Frenzy went a little loose, like his cables had been given slack, Barricade picking the mech up like one would a child before he turned to walk out of the house. Frenzy’s eyes popped up over Barricades shoulder as he passed the threshold and caught Sam’s and Sam felt a frisson of [sorry] and [embarrassment] from his fields and realized that Frenzy was apologizing to him.

First Aid sighed, drawing Sam’s attention to the rueful look on the redhead's face. “He got over-stimulated.” First Aid explained. “He’s a bit prone to it, most Cassettes are. It’s been a while since he's gotten to connect with his Carrier and data dump so with everything happening it's no wonder he’s feeling high strung. He still shouldn’t have stuffed food in your mouth, but I’m going to assign him R&R as soon as we get back. The impulsivity was an unpleasant surprise.” He grumped.

“Not everyone needs a Carrier to regulate.” Came a drawl from down the table and as Sam finished swallowing the dolma he noticed the almost affronted feel of Steeljaw's fields. 

Tipping his head to the Mechanimal, to the other Cassette in the room, First Aid made an acknowledging noise. “You are correct, but Frenzy does. He wasn’t built as robustly as you were.” 

Sam knew that Steeljaw had had a contentious history with being a Cassette. Steeljaw’s Guardian had made his frame particularly robust to give him a greater field of abilities than the usual Cassette so that he could go into some level of hostility to collect information without worrying to much about damage, but the flip side of that was that he had been perfectly fine without a Carrier, which was extremely rare. The social pressure to bond and his own personality of independence had instead…well, it had pushed Steeljaw to be more concerned with his own well-being than anyone else's, making his function of information gathering twist slightly to be more focused on power accumulation for what was power but information given function?

“I’m tired.” Sam declared, frowning at the food he'd lost what little interest he'd had in. “I'm gonna go to bed.” He finished, pushing back from the table and sliding out. He didn't need to still be able to read signals to read fields and no one was happy with his announcement, though the type of unhappiness varied wildly. Sam tried to tune it out as he walked away and into the hall leading back to the bedrooms where he could finally sleep. God, just a little sleep.

He'd just sat on the bed when there was a knock on the door and he responded by grunting, falling sideways onto the mattress. The door opened to reveal First Aid, a small bag over his shoulder, as he stepped in and closed the door quietly behind him. Sam tracked him with his tired eyes as the holoform approached the bed and the [request] had Sam shifting back silently so the First Aid could sit down in the curve created by his body.

“Hey.” The mech said, raising a hand to rest on Sam's head and start gently running his hand through the slightly damp tresses with a little bit of nails. Soft and warm and safe.  Sam curled closer, pressing his face lightly against First Aid's thigh. Words were hard, so he tried to quietly get across [tired] as best he could without them. The responding feeling of [acknowledgement] and [understanding] were nice and Sam closed his eyes. They remained like that for a little while, and Sam was drifting close to sleep when First Aid gave his hair a small tug. “Are you sure you can’t eat anymore?”

Sam didn’t want to eat more, but after a moment he shrugged. “Maybe? I just…” didn’t know how to articulate how much energy he didn’t have for anything more than stuffing food in his face and then going to sleep. Definitely not enough to figure out what was going on with everyone else. Something must have come through the bond because the sense of understanding deepened. 

“Let's try a plate and we’ll see how much you can get through.” The medic bargained and Sam shrugged, sitting up reluctantly. 

A few moments later there was a knock on the door before Will let himself in, plate and a can of soda in his hands. Sam felt a twist of regret at disturbing the General but Will looked relieved to see him if the tension of his shoulders easing slightly at seeing Sam sitting up in the bed sleepily, knees bent in a M shape below him was anything to go by. “Hey Sam.” Will greeted and Sam gave a wave as he yawned. 

“Hey Will.” Sam replied, taking the plate as it was handed to him, Will setting the soda on the nightstand as he dragged one of the fancy chairs to sit next to the side of the bed. 

It could have been awkward to eat in front of an audience but Sam was so tired that if it was awkward his brain simply couldn’t grasp it. Couldn’t grasp much of anything because one second he was stuffing a fork of rice in his face and the next he was blinking at dawn's early light, face pressed against Will’s still unfairly proportioned pectoral muscle. 

He must have dozed off while he was eating, or the lights had simply turned off and left the house to finish eating before it too had drawn the curtains for the night. It wasn’t like he wasn’t used to his body doing weird things without his knowledge or consent sometimes, it was annoying and scary but part of it being unconscious was that he had no control over it so it wasn’t like he could do things about it. 

Sam cruised in that drowsing state for a while. He was warm, he was comfortable, and while there’d always been something familiar about Will, Sam could admit being curled up with the man felt…cozy, homey. Sam hadn't really had much physical contact in decades, not since he's parents had passed really, and though it was probably weird to sleep with a practical stranger like Will, Sam couldn't help but profoundly enjoy it. Like being curled up with his mom on the couch when he’d been young and sick but somehow more so. Poking at the thought absently, Sam puzzled it over for a bit. It was weird, but not bad. Just, you know, there.

When Will started to wake up Sam was the first to know, the feeling of hearth and home shifting like sand in a bottle in his mind. ‘Oh’, he thought in amusement, ‘It’s the fields.' Now that he had a suspect, he could sus out the way their two fields were vibrating in harmony like two complementary notes in a chord. Will waking up, if they were still following the musical analogy, was like a vibrato or reverb on his note - still clearly the same but with just enough dissonance to highlight it.

The Guardian bond brightened minutely as First Aid’s attention shifted to him, but he seemed content to let Sam rest - though the feeling of being gently petted through the bond was as weird as it was comforting before the connection dimmed again. 

A real hand lifting up and resting on his shoulder caused Sam to make a noise and bury his head into Will's own shoulder. “Hmmmmm.” Will sighed, hand idly moving but non-intrusive. “We gotta get up.” He said after a while.

The noise Sam made was only human in the loosest of senses of the word, but caused Will to laugh. “You sound like Anna when she was a kid. Never met a person more averse to mornings.” He teased.

Will managed to coax Sam into rolling over with a couple of nudges before the General got up and began his day. The awareness of others moving in the house, however, destroyed any hope that Sam had had of sneaking a few more minutes of sleep in. Starfishing on the bed, Sam blinked his eyes open and stared at the ceiling high above him for a while as the shower started for Will before shoving himself up and into a vaguely vertical position.

The great room already had the sounds of people in it when he left the bedroom so he moved towards where the people were. Skids and Cliffjumper were in the kitchen looking like they were cooking, Arcee and Chromia were sitting on the bar stools quietly talking to them. They perked up when Sam came through the hall, calling and waving morning greetings before First Aid materialized by the front door and came towards him.

“Good morning Sam. Just some scans and tests before breakfast, sound good?” First Aid asked and Sam, though he was a bit tired of being prodded and tested, nodded because he was aware of how important it was given all of the crap he'd specifically been through the last couple days. First Aid must have picked up on his thoughts because he gave Sam a comforting shoulder squeeze as he led the Spark Touched back to the couch and sat him down.

The first few scans were only distinguishable by their slightly different types of tingles before First Aid settled on the coffee table across from him and started going through the motion and cognition testing. 

Where it previously would have ended, though, First Aid didn’t stop. “Okay Sam, we’re going to do some new tests and exercises for your connections to ::The Network::, okay? It might feel strange, but I have you in my firewalls and you are safe.” The medic explained reassuringly. “Can you please try to tell me your name and date of birth via the communication relay of ::the Network::?”

Unsure, Sam frowned. The fields were easier because it was a different system. The fluctuating electrical signals were as easy as having facial emotions, sending and receiving strange but at the same time instinctual, or at least to him. 

After a minute, Sam flagged a little, “I don’t think I know how.”

First Aid’s [understanding] and [support] buoyed him. “It’s alright. I think you might be overthinking it. Let me try first and we can see if that helps, okay?” Came the medics' smooth voice and Sam nodded, grateful. “Clear your mind and--” There was a pause before, #”::--tell me your name[designation] and birth[online] date.::”#

Oh. A bit like he’d done at dinner the night before with First Aid about Frenzy, but…kind of different. Frowning, Sam paused and thought over the sensation before trying.

The sound First Aid made caused Sam to look up, excited only to see the puzzled look on First Aid’s face. “Did I mess it up?” Sam asked, disappointed. 

The medic was quiet for a moment, before shaking his head. “You sent me a data packet.” He said in amusement. “I was translating it, since it’s not in English or Cybertronian.”

Frowning, Sam looked at him in confusion. “What?” The term caught a memory from the night before. “I didn’t think I could send one? Chromia said I couldn’t.”

Chromia, who had been paying very close attention indeed, perked up. “Most Sparklings can’t. But you’re a Spark Touched Sparkling…so who knows?”

Arcee rolled her eyes, “Just because he feels like a Sparkling doesn’t mean he is one. And remember, Sam is an elder to his people.” She reminded her sister, “Appearances to the contrary.”

First Aid drew his attention back. “That was actually very good, Sam, just not what I was asking for.” He chuckled. “Now, lets try it again.”

Sam frowned for a moment before closing his eyes. “Just send you my name and birthday?” The confirmation ran over his fields and he nodded. “Just my name and birthday.” He murmured to himself before trying again. After a few more data packets and a zing of static which surprised First Aid and Sam, Sam was willing to give up. 

Sam had started to swear aggressively internally at the process when First Aid started suddenly started laughing, “Sam, no need to curse.” He smiled at the perplexed human. “That, but with just your name and birthdate, please.”

#”::Sam Witwicky?::”# Sam tried and First Aid nodded. “That was…easier than I thought it was going to be.” Sam admitted in embarrassment. 

Nodding, First Aid passed his [amusement] through the bond, “It generally is. But that is how you make a communication. You can only send them to me right now but as you get a bit stronger and we start focusing on your firewalls that’ll be how you communicate with the others.” He explained. “Are you hungry or would you like a little help getting there?” He asked, indicating the table which was now laden with breakfast offerings.

Sam made it to the table and sat before he noticed something off about the impressive espresso machine on the kitchen counter. It took him two seconds between noticing it and realizing what it meant. Turning to look at First Aid from his seat, he tried to exercise what he’d just learned. #”::Is Frenzy hiding as the espresso machine?::”# He asked, though he didn’t really need to.

The feelings of [mirth] and [exasperation] were about in equal measure. #”::Yes. He’s been…embarrassed and upset since last night. He hates apologizing but didn’t want to be left out.::”# First Aid admitted. #”::He snuck in this morning and moved the real one into the garage.::”#

That was…honestly pretty hilarious. Sam’s opinion on the little mech was a bit all over the place. He remembered the Frenzy from his world like one does a bad dream, his memories from his other world hazed with time, but the memories he had from his visions and stuff were less scary but genuinely more chaotic. The Frenzy he’d met in the last week was kind of…dense. Not stupid but not attentive to others social cues or their needs but for how they related to his own, but he wasn't mean. That Frenzy was sensitive when he was aware that he’d messed up and handled it like a child who’d been caught being naughty was…

Well, it reminded him of a certain other child mech.

Sam cleared his throat, causing the breakfasters and the other Cybertronians to pause and look at him. “Anyone interested in an Espresso?” He asked in amusement and could feel the squawk of indignity from Frenzy as the bot tried to figure out how to not end up with hot liquid in his internals without revealing his deception. “I’m kidding. Frenzy, you want to come and sit with us?” 

There was a sullen silence from the espresso maker as the other Cybertronians looked on in amusement before the telltale sound of a transformation cog engaging had the mech slowly sliding off the counter to stand in the kitchen looking like ‘Yes, I want to sit with you’ and ‘No, you filthy skin bag, you’re a poopy butt face and I wanna go home’. It was…God, Sam couldn’t resist it. It was like when he’d been a kid with Miles and his sisters had been obsessed with them. Sam held out an arm and between one second and the next the little mech had donned his holoform like a cloak and wedged himself against Sam’s side, opposite to where Skids was sitting. Sam could feel his field giving off a riot of emotions, unsure being the most dominant of them. 

“Promise not to stick food in my face again?” Sam asked, looking down at the holoform. Frenzy scowled before folding his arms and nodding his head. “Good.” And then Sam proceeded to eat his breakfast like it was the easiest thing in the world. 

The rest of the table, Barricade and Chromia in particular, were slightly overwhelming Sam’s own fields with feelings and First Aid tightened something on his end of the bond and they dulled it down some as Sam stuffed some actually quite good cheesy eggs into his mouth. 

Breakfast was not terribly long, and the conversation was predominantly surrounding the route to Jasper where the ::Ground Bridge:: was located.  

“The 89 to the 44 to the 395 is going to be the most direct route.” Cliffjumper was saying from across the table. 

For once, Steeljaw offered a thought, “Nothing around that road system is a ‘direct route’. Nevada has the most circuitous roads in the country because they’re avoiding so many military installations and wasteland.” He huffed. 

Considering what Sam had seen of Nevada, which was admittedly mostly in the south and a rather unmemorable trip to Reno when he was 9, he couldn’t exactly argue. Having to nervously stop on the Nevada side of the Death Valley National Park in his dads stolen Austin-Healy on his way to look for Sector 7 and Megatron had been a terrifying experience when all you could see was darkness save a few shining eyes reflected from the headlights at you at 3 AM.

Fueled up, the actual departure was rather anticlimactic. Following the hosts instructions only took them a few minutes and then Sam was being shuffled with Will into Cliffjumper who sent [welcome] and [affection] to Sam now that Cliffjumper knew that Sam could feel his greeting and then they were on the road again. 

Sam had missed California with a bittersweetness that he hadn’t realized he’d had until he was back in it. He loved his cabin (or the memory of his cabin at this point), don’t get him wrong, but the smell and the feeling of the states were simply different. Instead of sleeping like he should have been doing, his exhaustion being pretty profound still, he just tipped his head to watch the trees pass by for most of the morning, Cliffjumper playing music through his speakers soft enough that Sam couldn’t distinguish what was being played but enjoying the ambiance anyway.

Eventually forest gave way to desert and Sam was less pleased to see rabbit and sage brush as for as the eye could see, which without a tree in sight was pretty far indeed. The clear blue skies gave way to some pretty spectacular clouds* though which held Sam’s attention for about ten minutes before he was dozing off.

By the time midday was rolling around they were already entering the Reno city limits and Sam awoke to a quiet but quite opinionated argument between the Generals. “Look, if we’re going to eat anyway, we might as well get a crack at something nice before we’re back home. I’m telling you, the place is bomb.” Epps voice came through Cliffjumpers speakers quietly.

Sam could see as Will rolled his eyes with all of the tasset annoyance of a teenager himself, “We haven’t been to Toucan Charlie’s in at least a decade, maybe two. We don’t know if it’s still any good. These casino places are really all over the place quality wise year to year. We might be on a bad one.” Will was half heartedly arguing. 

Frowning, confused, Sam looked up as the road led down into the large valley where Reno sat as a sparkling cubic zirconia of glitz and glamor against an otherwise desolate backdrop. It had always seemed odd to Sam to have such sprawling cities in the middle of nothing and nowhere and yet somehow they still thrived.

“But the crab legs.” Epps rebutted with feeling.

The concept of eating ocean crustaceans in the high desert caused Sam to feel distinctly uncomfortable, let alone the idea of the crowds such an offering would undoubtably entice. He’d been to Reno once with his family on holiday and the lasting impression was the amount of people that would try to occupy together like sardines in a neon lit can with loud slot machines, cigarette smoke and sequins had been disturbing. It hadn’t left a positive imprint on Sam then and the idea of willingly going in for more was…

“Can I stay with Cliffjumper?” Sam asked, looking up at Will. “I don’t wanna be near people.” 

Will tapped the dash and Epps went mute before turning to look at Sam, “You not feeling up to crowds, huh? You didn’t like them much up at your house either.” The man noted leadingly.

Shaking his head, Sam stuffed his hands into the front pocket of his hoodie in an unconscious self soothing gesture. “No, I don’t like ‘em.” He admitted before he was quiet for a second, “There was this guy, an old Cybertronian, back in my world." He finally confessed after a few seconds too long under Will's penetrating stare. "He needed me because I knew where something was that he needed. He took over all of the satellites and plastered my face all over every communication device on the planet that he could and demanded that I get handed over to him otherwise he was going to destroy the world as we knew it. He could do it too. He’d just orchestrated a multipoint attack that killed thousands of people and declared the existence of Cybertronians to an already panicking public so…” Sam trailed off, the thumbnail of one hand scratching the skin of the other to release some of the ambient anxiety remembering that experience raised.

Will nodded, his expression clearly an indicator of a brain trying to wrap understanding around what Sam had just said, “So the trade off was one kid and the rest of humanity.” He concluded.

Sam tucked his shoulders close and looked out the window to distance himself from this, “Yeah.” He agreed. “Knowing that everyone saw me as a means of survival may have put me off people for a while. Especially a lot of them at once.” 

After a second, Will nodded and reached over to wrap his hand comfortingly around the back of Sam’s neck which like it had before helped to ground him. “Then we don’t do crowds. It’s okay to have things that you can’t do right now.” He reassured Sam, leaning down and catching Sam’s eye. “Maybe a sandwich and soup instead?”

Not looking directly at Will but immensely relieved that he'd been heard, Sam nodded. And it was just as easy as that.

Lunch ended up being from a chain known for its bread bowls but Sam was more than happy for a club sandwich at a picnic table around the side of the building under the spring sun. Reno Nevada and it’s 360 days of sunshine a year*. 

Epps had been perceptively disappointed but tried to cheer up when Sam had looked at him apologetically. “Don’t worry about it, man. Toucan Charlie’s gonna be there till it's not and it’s just food. If it was my momma’s cooking that’s one thing, but it's not so it's fine. Besides, all this driving and bad food isn’t good for my girlish figure.” He said with a wink before biting into his own pastrami on rye. 

Sam figured that Frenzy’s thing with him would wear off with exposure, but if anything the little mech seemed more attached now as Sam found himself almost plastered at the hip by Frenzy whenever he was in the vicinity. While Barricade, Cliffjumper, and First Aid had joined the table to keep them company and kvetch about the drive so far, Frenzy had basically rolled out of Barricade's cab and insisted that he was going to be Sam’s personal shadow from now on. Sam wasn’t necessarily upset by it, confused mostly, but for the most part Frenzy was happily self occupying himself with his game consoles and didn’t talk much, but he had to be in contact with Sam somewhere at all times. 

Barricade, the slagger, thought it was cute. Epps seemed to just be happy it wasn’t him that the little mech had decided to attach himself to. 

After lunch found them heading east on the 80. Sam, still exhausted, had curled up under Will’s parka and quickly found himself dozing again in the comfortable interior of Cliffjumper’s passenger compartment long before they merged onto the 439.  

‘Sam. Danger.’ 

Popping his eyes open, Sam frowned in confusion up at Will who was oblivious to his sudden scrutiny. Perplexed, Sam looked around the shaded cab but couldn’t pinpoint what had woken him. No, that wasn’t right. He knew what had woken him, and the urgency behind the message was…resolute.

“Will, somethings wrong.” Sam said sitting up.

The man turned to look at Sam in concern, “Are you getting another vision? I can call First Aid.” He offered.

No. No, something was wrong, Sam could feel it like static electricity in his soul now that he was aware of it and whatever it was was growing steadily. “No, not a vision. Something’s wrong. Like…danger wrong. It feels like danger.” He tried to explain, frowning because it didn’t feel like, omnipresent, it felt like what he thought Spiderman* must feel with his ‘spider senses’. 

Ahead.

Leaning forward in his seat Sam’s eyes widened when he laid eyes on a very familiar, very unwelcome, shape. 

“Is that fuckin’ Swindle?”

Chapter Text

Before Sam had been a writer, Sam had been an avid reader. Usually: garbage. The worse the book, the more he had enjoyed it. Werewolves? Sure. Vampires and Zombies? Yes please. Aliens from another world and robots? His absolute favorite: The Iron Giant had made him weep. That is to say that he had a wide variety of interests in literature. Sure, some of it was completely irredeemable, but some of it was actually quite good. 

For example, he’d been particularly in love with ‘Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland’ when he was a kid. His grandmother had given him a copy for his birthday when he was nine and he’d reread it till the cover had literally detached from the rest of the book and he’d been so upset that he’d destroyed his present that he'd been nearly inconsolable and his mom had asked his grandma to send him a nicer bound one so that he wouldn’t be able to destroy it from reading. His grandmother, also a reader, had done so without being at all upset about the destruction of her initial present because, like a velveteen rabbit, sometimes you can love the fluff right off and it makes the object all the more precious for it. 

But even after decades since reading the book, one line stuck out to him even now. ‘Sometimes I've believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast.’

Sam felt that resonate with him on a deep visceral level as he stared out the windshield of an interstellar sentient shape changing mechanoid being millions of years old at another interstellar sentient shape changing mechanoid being who he was almost certain he’d literally felt die a few days ago. It would have thrown most people for a loop, but Sam at this point? Accepted it as just another Monday thing.

God he hated Mondays.

Sam didn’t have time to react before the seatbelt around him tightened as his seat righted itself before the muscle car’s brakes engaged suddenly in a controlled, but still insane, display of sheer automotive pagentry. Steering wheel slamming to the left, the alt-mode slid into a gap in oncoming traffic before the monstrous engine below the hood exploded with sound and they were suddenly peeling off at a speed that forced Sam back so hard into the seat that he didn’t think he even needed the seat belt to hold him in place with the G’s Cliffjumper was engaging in. 

“Shit Cliff!” Will yelled, book flying from his hands into the passenger footwell as the man braced for the sudden tactical retreat against the roof to the soundtrack of a cacophony of car horns around them. The cars might be driving themselves but someone had taken personal pride in programming all of the horns with a distinct 'Fuck you in particular' kind of tone.

“Enemy engagement initiated, I am retreating until reinforcements and sitrep establish a threat level.” Cliffjumper’s calm tone was at odds with his movements as he wove through traffic deftly. The juxtaposition almost sent Sam for the loop he hadn’t lost yet.

#“Acknowledged. Priority is Pythia’s safety.”# Came Barricades voice through Cliffjumper's speaker system. #“Apollo is suggesting off-roading by Black Mountain; fewer non-combatants.”# 

Will, who was much better at shifting into battle mode than Sam was, checked Cliffjumper's mirror. “We got a bead on anyone else?” He asked. 

“Swindle’s not going to work alone. He’ll have someone to do the heavy lifting.” Sam managed, alarmed eyes checking the skies above them. “I thought he’d, you know, biffed it!” He whispered to himself.

There was an aggrieved sound across the radio, #“Wonderbird used a ::overrated:: munition, there was hardly anything left to verify against, let alone confirm.”# Came Steeljaw's curt and annoyed voice over coms. #“The only confirmed capture was Vortex.”# He huffed. 

Which meant that Blot and Brawl were possibly helping, not to mention Blastoff and Onslaught which…well, of the five members of the Bruticus* gestalt team they’d actually caught the least concerning one. Vortex might be a psychopath but at least he was straightforward about it. 

That wasn’t even mentioning the Terrorcons*.

#“We’ve got Energon signatures incoming. It’s either 1 or 3 and I don’t like the ambiguity.”# Came First Aid’s concerned voice through the radio. #“Base is aware and a team is scrambling but they’ll have to ready a flier from Diego Garcia and ground bridge them over, which can take a minute.”# The lacing of [worry] through his out loud thinking didn’t even need their connection to highlight. 

The sound of high octane revving and the shapes suddenly whipping around them caused Sam to flinch before the familiar pink, purple, and dark blue of their color schemes registered and he realized that the sisters were taking up protective positions around Cliffjumper's controlled but absolutely terrifying driving as they continued to weave through traffic - though the vehicle systems around them appeared to be engaging in 'defensive maneuvers' and moving as much out of the way of the red bruiser as possible on the two lane highway.

Somewhere behind them there was an explosion.

#“Swindle has been engaged.”# Came Epps’ amused voice over the radio.

There was a pause before there was another explosion and then Cliffjumper made a noise and calmly stated: “Brace yourselves.” As he suddenly took a left and crossed the highway at 120 miles an hour and was launched upward like the freakin’ Dukes of Hazzard 1969 Dodge Charger into the desert beyond off the rain dugout on the other side. 

The amount of distress Sam was feeling might have made itself clear from the scream he made as his life, long but mostly boring moments with blips of excitement in between, flashed before of his eyes before they’d even descended back to terra firma. Sam, in that moment, realized that he’d checked out a book when he was 23 and had never returned it. He wondered if the library fees had compounded for 54 years or if there was like, a fee capping system, because otherwise the library would have very good cause to come after his estate and likely take him to the cleaners. 

Possibly not the most important thing to think about at this moment.

Sam was sure, though he had no proof other than several lifetimes worth of memories, that Cliffjumper had yelled ‘Yeehaw’ at that maneuver, if only to himself. 

The landing could have been worse. Sam managed to not bite his tongue off and the desert, though pockmarked with sagebrush, was relatively smooth as a driving surface for being so irregular. With how tightly the safety belt was holding him Sam couldn’t turn back to easily confirm if Swindle was behind them or not but the sound of the revving engines of the motorcycles as they joined them was comforting.

#“Confirmed visual, we’ve got Blast Off incoming from due North with opened bay doors.”# Chromia reported. 

#“Reinforcements incoming. Covert Ops confirmed through ::Ultra Magnus[Commander]:: that they will be arriving sooner than the Jasper forces.”# Arcee hummed. #“Directive is to hold in stable position past civilian eyesight until their arrival.”# She grunted as a small rise launched her into the air long enough to give Sam a visual of the neatly compacted Cybertronian below. #“Roster unknown.”# 

Sam, fingers clenched on the door and seat, rattled while Will, who was bracing himself against Cliffjumpers ceiling, twisted to look behind them. “Who’s got eyes on who?”

Let it be noted that Sam, who was in possession of a pair of perfectly functional eye balls in normal circumstances, was convinced that at their current speed and the driving surface they were driving on, that if he opened his eyes they would simply pop right out of his skull. Or, at least, he told himself that as somehow they went airborne again and what did it say about his life that he found that a relief from having his bones vibrated out of his body like toy fossils in a sand jar are a kids museum?

The crunch of impact on the other side of the jump disillusioned him of that temporary relief until there was another brief “Brace yourselves!” and then the alt-mode was sliding across the desert dirt at possibly a billion miles an hour, who is to say, and then the mother-fucker engaged his transformation cog mid-slide.

‘Oh for Primus’s sake.’ Was all Sam could think as the next few seconds found him curled up like a baby alongside Will in Cliffjumper's arms as the mech Akira* slid across the loose dirt to a stop and crouched low in the desert sun as the motorcycles roared around them, not that Sam could see them at all as the moment he was set down he was forced to his knees to vomit prodigiously the meal they had just eaten not too long ago into the pale sand between his hands as Will made a sympathetic noise above him.

Will’s sympathy is short lived as he was also released by Cliffjumper to haul Sam vertical again, which Sam's stomach was not here for and jam his shoulder under Sam’s armpit and hoist Sam like a particularly unimpressive sack of rice. “We got any kind of ETA on that support.” Will hissed to Cliffjumper while dragging Sam towards a small outcropping of rocks with a natural furrow below. It wasn’t much, but it was what they had as Will dropped them down in the lay of the stone*. 

Whatever was said was lost on Sam. All Sam knew was that Cliffjumper left them and ran laterally to engage with something as the sisters followed.

Sam, laying back in the sun like a too loved doll forgotten in the yard, stared blearily at the sky as he determined if he was going to vomit again. It was a toss up. His stomach was 100% onboard with the vomit plan even if his head was very much not. His mouth? Pretty sure his mouth, which had been very pro-food at the restaurant, was now convinced that anything passing his lips in the next few moments would be a most regrettable decision by consequence of it making the action regrettable. 

In summary, the jury was still out. 

What wasn’t still up for interpretation was the feeling of ‘approaching danger’ which as far as new powers went wasn’t the worst he could have gotten. Will was crouched above him in a protective position, a weapon of some sort (Not a bullet shooting gun, it had too sci-fi of a look for that) in his hand and his eyes trained beyond their little hiding spot. Sam forced himself to roll onto his side and then front, waiting for an extended moment for his stomach to get the memo and realize that it wasn’t going to vomit before Sam crawled closer to Will but still under cover. 

Will spared him a glance. “You with me?” He asked, tone hushed as his eyes tracked something in the distance. Sam nodded, mouth closed to keep his stomach's reluctant settlement from being tempted to be revisited. “We've got two main forces, the spaceship and a ground crew. Cliff and Barricade are engaging with the ground crew--” a sudden explosion of some variety vibrated the ground below them and Sam ducked before he registered the movement. 

“--so be aware of incoming debris.” Will finished as something darkened the sky before a yellow arm landed somewhere 200 meters to the left of them. 

The arm gave a few furtive jerks before flattering it's hand on the ground and starting to tug itself across the ground. Great. Just great. 

Will kept an eye on the arm but didn't immediately raise his weapon to engage with it. Sam moved further from it but the thing just continued to head towards where Sam could see the ground battle was ongoing. Blast Off, unlike most fliers, could hover in place with his current configuration as a cybertronian ‘rocket plane’ and the bots in his hold were taking advantage of that to take pot shots at the grounders below. Sam couldn’t make out who was where, exactly, but from his memory of the team he’d assume that Onslaught, the team leader, was up in Blast Off while Brawl and Swindle would be below. Sam wasn’t sure how Swindle could have begged forgiveness enough not to be a smear on a mountainside like he’d thought from rocket or from Brawl but somehow the ::slagger:: had managed it, but he couldn’t say he wasn’t at least a little unsurprised that they’d worked it out.

They always did.

“I think that’s Swindle’s arm.” Sam admitted, close to Will but also very much out of his movement zone. The last thing he wanted was to get in the General’s way if he needed to move.

Glancing at the arm that was still slowly making its way back towards the battle field a bit like a sideways inch worm, Will nodded. “I didn’t see it but I’m guessing that it was Ray. Keep an eye on it for me, will you? I don’t need to be caught unarmed by a ‘cons arm.” He grumped and…

It was such a dad joke that Sam choked on his own saliva.

Will’s look clearly said ‘How exactly did you survive this long on your own’ before refocusing on the battle happening further and…further away.

“They’re getting pretty far away.” Sam muttered, feeling unnerved. 

Will nodded, “Ray’s giving off enough AllSpark energy to draw them, our job is to sit tight till the calvary arrive.” He frowned, “And not draw attention to ourselves.” He muttered, lowering himself slightly with a cautious and concerned look at something beyond Sam's eyesight. 

Sam, confused, glanced up and around the stone and his breath stopped short. In the desert sun it was nearly impossible to see it, but after a jerk and a flash Sam’s blood ran cold. “Oh fuck, it’s a Reedman.” He whispered as quietly as he could. “What’s it doing?”

Will’s eyes were laser focused on the thing. “What is a 'Reedman'?” He breathed back.

Sam flattened himself against the rock so that only his eye could follow the reptilian movements. “An amalgam of lots of itty bitty bots. Thousands of them. They’re solid until it’s inconvenient; they can be microns thin and like to slice and dice anything that gets in their way. Fuck.” He mimicked Will’s breathy communication. “Bad, bad news.”

The General's eyes hardened, flitting between the drone and where Swindle's arm was still moving. “It’s engaged in a search pattern. How smart is this thing?”

Sam scrunched his face, “Not intelligent perse, but it has the ability to follow orders even given novel stimuli.” He was quiet. “It defaults to ‘kill’ if it’s not sure.” He whispered, realizing what that meant for them. 

Will’s shoulders set. “Let First Aid know that our position might be compromised.” He finally muttered. “I can’t see a way of moving without triggering a response.”

Sam, gulping, reached across the connection he now had with the Medic. ‘First Aid? Someone dropped a Reedman near our position.’ he said as calmly as he could.

The tension across the connection tightened and Sam could feel [surprise] and [worry] through their bond. '::Has it spotted you?::' Came the medics quick response. 

Sending a [negative], Sam watched the Reedman discover Swindle's arm. The drone examined the limb with interest, jabbing the metal hand with it’s knife like claws and seemed pleased to discover that even detached from the greater body the arm responded very negatively to getting stabbed by tiny knives. 'No, but I don’t know how long it’s going to be distracted by torturing Swindle’s arm here.'

There was a pause before [comprehension] filters alone the line, '::Swindle’s sudden screams make much more sense now.::' He said distractedly before there was a ripple down the line. '::Listen carefully. Swindle is heading your way. The Covert Ops team hasn’t commed so we aren’t sure of their location or their arrival time. Steeljaw is going to pursue but if we reveal your location our forces are going to be stretched too thin to be of use. We need you to lay low.::'

Like baby deer or rabbits. Pray the predator didn’t notice them. 'There isn’t a lot of cover here, ‘Aid. ETA on Steeljaw?' He asked as the Reedman hopped onto the arm and ‘surfed’ it as it investigated the robot's elbow joint with primitive interest and amusement.

There was quiet before First Aid sent [unsure]. Sam, carefully moving around Will to the General's other side, looked through the rabbit brush to get a look at the battle while the General had his focus on the two almost combatants 250 meters from them as quietly as he could. 

“Sam?” Will breathed.

There was dust, in the distance, and Sam caught sight of Swindle (still mangled if the black carbon scoring and shredded paint job were anything to go by) running like a marathoner towards where his arm was, plasma pistol out and optics glaring crimson in fury. His arrival also heralded a blast of radio chatter on every channel that even Sam, behind the Guardian Protocols, could pick up on.

#”::You lousy fragger! Coward! Get back here you slag!::”# Came a voice that even now Sam recognized as a very pissed off Brawl. Sam's Danger Tingle was also increasing appreciatively and Sam wished he was a small burrowing creature for once. Or twice. It was hard to gauge. 

The explosion that followed that howl? Also something Sam at this point recognized very well, the plasma blasts rocking the earth around them had Will tackling Sam and rolling them so he forced Sam under him like the General was a blanket, wrapping his arm around his own head protectively and forcing Sam’s thin chest into his much broader one as he placed himself between Sam and the stinging hot glass beads that hailed down around them. Sam, unable to do anything, tucked his face into Will’s clavicle and tried to tuck his hands into Will's sides to protect them from the thermal bullets raining down on them.

He heard Will hiss as something hot caught him somewhere but then there was more noise, something extremely loud in the distance but also Sam swore he heard Swindle start to shoot back at Brawl with the pistol he’d pulled to shoot the Reedman who’d been torturing his arm. Soon the battle field was stretched untenably in an a V of violence as Blast Off and his crew continued to rain fire down on the non-pirate Cybertronian's and the pirate ground forces began attacking each other.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” Will breathed into Sam’s ear, “They’re fucking crazy!” 

Sam didn’t have the breath to wheeze ‘Obviously’ up at the General, not crushed as he was, and didn’t dare attempt to broadcast the sentiment, so he just tried to curl up tighter to the older man and not cause any more significant problems considering the many they already had on deck. 

But the Danger Tingle feeling was coming closer.

“Something’s coming.” Sam barely breathed before they both felt the shaking impacts of pedes on ground as something indeed arrived.

The thump above them was enough to rattle Sam’s bones where they were pressed to the ground and Will clutched Sam's body close as the General’s head whipped up to find a large green and black mech above them. Sam, over Will's shoulder, was reminded that though Brawl was and always had been an impressive figure, it was different to be aware of that and have the mech crouched over you with big red optics regarding you in sheer befuddlement. 

He hadn’t known they were there when he’d landed. They were five feet from being squished and only divine providence had kept it from being so.

“::Well I’ll be fragged[amusement][surprise][vindication] by a Sparkling[son] of a Glitch!::” The mech laughed above them before reaching down with his giant servo, “::There you are[disbelief]. May[never] have to apologize to Swindle for shooting his aft.::” He jubilantly swore. Like Swindle, the mech in spite of his terrifying countenance had clearly seen far better days. Many of his plates and fastenings were pitted and gouged from at least their most recent encounter, if not many more Sam was unaware of.

Brawl's digits, nearly the size of either human a piece, were just about around them with Will trying to shove Sam out from under him and away, which was noble but also stupid, when something (a lasso?) not from the battle that they’d be watching suddenly hooked around the mechs throat from behind and with a great yank hauled the mech back like a branco. Will, unwilling to look a gift horse in the mouth, scrambled into a standing position and before he stabilized hauled Sam up with him; before Will could even open his mouth to yell ‘Run!’ Sam was off like a shot. 

Generally speaking, when Sam had his pick of battle fields to run through (at this point he had enough experience to make that assessment with some amount of authority on the subject) he preferred stone ruins because even though they were often more culturally significant it took a lot more to actually get to him. Forests? Splintered tree’s caused wood shrapnel. Open field? No cover. Desert? Even in early spring it was hot and while being terrified sucked, being terrified and hot while engaged in super intense cardio? Well, let just say he had some complaints to file somewhere with a very strongly worded critique to upper, upper management. 

And though he’d been so exhausted he could cry more than once in the last week his legs didn’t remember that at the moment and as the sounds of an explosion rocked all around them from ion cannon's, blasters, and good old fashioned brawling, Sam only had the ability to glance back and see Will keeping pace before he focused on where his own feet were. As he’d learned on multiple occasions, the best way to destroy your own chances of escape was to be so concerned with the things behind you that you forgot to look ahead.

Still, it would be nice to have eyes in the back of his head because Sam's ‘spider-sense’ was only helpful in the sense he knew he was screwed seconds before he found himself snatched up by a servo and hoisted aloft as the mech kept running.

Sam expected Brawl to squish him but the mech's hands were actually surprisingly gentle for being essentially a series of metal presses wielded by a mech known for his wanton desire and ability to reap pure destruction. Sam even had enough space to move some as he turned to face the giant and flinched back as the mech turned back towards the way that they'd come and pulled his other arm back to gain enough speed and inertia with it to punch something.

Or someone.

Sam tried to use what movement he had to shove out from his current handy prison without much luck before something hit Brawl across the helm hard enough to stagger the mech, causing him to lift his arms and Sam clutched in one of them high into the air as the mech tried to find his balance. Sam wasn't ashamed to admit that the motion caused him to scream, tumbled like a shoe in the drier, before the mech stabilized and returned whatever he'd just been given with interest.

Sam could only see flashes of white an blue between the digits he was trying to brace against when there was a loud sound, like piercing a soda can with a pen but much louder which caused Brawl to pinwheel and...

Launch Sam into the sky like a baseball.

If Sam were to guess, he'd throw Brawl into the same league as say, Ratchet or Ironhide, close to 20-25 feet give or take. He was a big boy. That height plus the full extended arm height and the lift that the mech had thrown him? Sam knew that everything that goes up has to go down, and he also knew that he wasn't Wiley Coyote. When he impacted the ground?

The ground wasn't going to be the thing that gave.

For an eternity, Sam pinwheeled through the air as he tried to stabilize his trajectory to maybe roll? He'd seen it done but he didn't really have the training to do it. Sam was reminded, very suddenly, of his attempt to get the cube to the helicopter and Megatron whipping the building out from under him, causing him to fall to his would be death below.

Full circle.

Only, like the time before, something wrapped around his middle again and absorbed the deadly inertia he'd been accumulating as his descent bound for earth. Gasping, Sam turned his eyes towards who’d grabbed him and…paused. 

In all honesty, he’d been expecting Optimus Prime. It wouldn't have made sense, but nothing else on this planet made sense anymore, so why should he have to make sense? Instead of that irrational desire, the servo he found himself in was, while still crazy, at least not impossibly so. It was a wanted but altogether confusing face. “Smokescreen?” Sam asked, baffled, because…well, just because. “Are you the backup?” He gasped, disoriented from his many near death experiences in such a short amount of time as he turned as much as he could to see Brawl face first in the ground behind them as a red alt-form, a Porsche(?), slid in a controlled e-brake turn to literally snatch Lennox off his feet behind them before slamming the door, straightening, and booking it. 

It didn’t take a genius to figure out that that was Mirage as the car beeped jauntily at them as it sped away. 

Mirage, even as a covert ops operative, was about as subtle as a brick to the face. 

The mech holding him dodged a shot from something that was roaring after them and in between one second and the next Sam heard a T-Cog engaging and was curled and folded before he then found himself in the driver's seat of Smokescreen's alt-mode as the covert operative happily called “Seatbelts!” just as a four point harness wrapped itself around Sam in the nick of time as Smokescreen engaged in a sliding maneuver that pointed his front straight at Brawl who had gotten up and been roaring at full tilt after them, maw open and silver denta flashing in the desert sunlight, red optics blazing with his fury.

Now that Sam was back in the passenger compartment of a bot he could get more of a read of the battlefield and it was…um, confusing. Confusing seemed like a good word for it. 

Blast Off had been grounded at some point, the smoking indicated by some kind of cannon fire but Sam hadn’t heard cannon fire had he? That bit with Brawl had consumed his attention entirely so maybe then? But shouldn't he have heard the crash? What he saw now was weapons fire shooting out from the remains of Blast Off's frame from Onslaught, Blot and…that better not be Hun-grrr. 

A cannon charging and firing above Sam's head had him ducking as far as the harness would allow as a blue ion charge launched and Sam could see Brawls optics widen before he caught the static round straight to his chassis, causing the mech to seize as his systems fluctuated wildly under the charge. 

Ion charges could be quite lethal, Sam knew, but between the various types of weapons used during the Great War they were considered the less lethal of the many, many options available.

#”::Sam? Sam, are you alright?::”# Came First Aid's panicked voice through Smokescreens com. Held inside mech, one of the more prolific covert operations agents that Sam was aware of from the Great War, Sam sent back [reassurance] and [safety] which caused the mech around him to jerk in startlement. 

“Well thank you, ::sweet spark::. Nicest thing anyone's said about me in ::vorns::.” Smokescreen chuckled as he surged his engine and fishtailed to show a Swindle who was thoroughly distracted by the Reedman, who in true idiotic Deceptiocon fashion hadn't registered Swindle as a 'friendly' and was attacking the much larger bot like a freaking knife wielding squirrel. Steeljaw, who had smaller cannons and couldn't hit as hard as a larger build, was working along side the drone in a display of true tenacity and startling accuracy with the weapons he did have and it was clear that they were winning by death of a thousand cuts. If Sam didn't know the two weren't working together he'd assume that they were a tag-team. 

That became a lot less of a problem when something shot Swindle in the chassis from somewhere and the yellow mech went down hard with a splatter or pink Energon. 

“Sniper? Bluestreak?” Sam gasped, trying to look for the characteristic flash of a sniper's scope on the hills around them.

Smokescreen chuckled, “Right on what, not on who. Crosshairs is our eye in the sky today - Bluestreak is on other business.” He explained. Where as Cliffjumper had basically rattled so hard Sam's bones nearly escaped his flush suit, Smokescreens dampeners made the trip barely unpleasant as they roared out to the far reaches of the battle as Barricade, Cliffjumper, Skids and the sisters were picking apart what was left of the assault. Sam looked for First Aid in the crowd and saw the mech's bipedal form hanging back, a set of pistol looking weapons clutched in his servos in case someone got through.  

Onslaught, caught out with Blot and Hun-grrr offering middling help at best, could see the writing on the wall and with a surge of [fury] than pressed on all of the fields around him like a bullying thumb, the mech ram and with a leap transformed and abandoned his comrade(s) to their fate as he began his escape. 

Only to be shot quite cleanly through the chassis by Crosshairs once he'd cleared Blast Off, spinning out and rolling several times before going still less than a hundred meters away. 

With only two Terrorcons and only these two Terrorcons left, Sam wasn't surprised when they threw their servos up in a clear sign of surrender when they realized that they were not only outnumbered but out gunned and had no clear exit strategy with at least one sniper on the ridge. With the surrender, though, tensions in the air lightened a little, though Smokescreen held him closely in the harness and drove wearily as Cliffjumper approached the two bots with cuffs and in one fell swoop bound theirs arms and disabled their transformation cogs if Sam was familiar with what the big mechs hand was doing. 

“Is Steeljaw okay Smokescreen? He was back there with Swindle and Brawl and the Reedman, I hope he's not hurt.” Sam asked, pressing his hands on the non-functional steering wheel as he tried to look back towards where the mech had been left.

Smokescreen hummed around him before his radio cracked to life. #“I'm fine, Sam. I can't say the same for our mech Swindle though. I plugged a major Energon leak but he's in rough shape. The Reedman has gone inactive and Brawl is reading as stuck in a cascade error loop so should be out for at least a few hours.”# The mechanimals rough voice came through loud and clear and Sam felt himself relax hearing that voice. 

“I'm glad you're okay, Steeljaw. Thanks for coming for us.” Sam said in recognition, leaning his head back in the hard headrest and breathing deeply. Comfortable Smokescreen was not.

There was a thick chuckle over the com, #“Don't worry about it, kid, my pleasure.”# 

Sam patted Smokescreens interior, “Thank you for coming for us too, Smokescreen. You really saved our butts back there.” 

The vibrant [amusement] and [acknowledgement] and [curiosity] slid through his fields, fingers in a pond of cool water. “Of course, ::sweet spark::, happy to help. So you're our new Spark Touched? I have to say, the rumors don't do you justice. How'd you know it was me?” He asked, [affection] slowly working its way into their overlapping fields.

Sam, feeling shy, shrugged. “I don't really know. I can just…pick out who is who, if that makes sense? Mostly works on sight, but I'd know Ultra Magnus’ voice anywhere.” He huffed a small but relieved laugh. 

Knowing that Smokescreen was an affable, nice mech and feeling what that felt like was different but welcome, and Sam could feel the [amusement] in his own sternum as the mech chuckled. “It's not a voice one easily forgets, I think by design. Damn useful knowing who's who at a glance, better than right up in your grill with a ::vibro blade:: in your gut.” He joked. “You okay? I didn't scan any injuries but your systems are a bit less straightforward than our own.” He asked as he rolled to a stop far enough from the battle field to book it if necessary but close enough to be included with the Cybertonian forces. 

Will was climbing out of Mirage with a pat to the bright red paint job before the bot was changing into his bipedal form, already moving to where Onslaught was laying prone while Will made his way towards Sam and Smokescreen. 

Sam did a quick assessment. “Nothing from being yeeted, I don't think. My mouth tastes like something died in it, but I'm good. I got motion sick when Cliff drove across the desert.” Sam explained and the [concern] that slid into his fields was like the affection had been; more present than just overlapping fields. 

Will was walking to the driver's side door of Smokescreen and the bot accommodatingly rolled down his window so the two humans could interact without the clear aluminum between them. 

Will's dark eyes looked Sam over, “You good, Sam?”

From where his head was resting against the headrest, Sam gave a tired nod. “‘m good. Tired, though, I think the adrenaline drops hitting me.” He admitted, already feeling the signs. “Was anyone hurt?”

Will looked to where the groups were splitting up to officially capture and restrain the pirates. First Aid having finished doing something to Onslaught had starting to jog towards Swindle. “Minor bumps and bruises mostly, Arcee got a direct hit to one of her bitarlueus’, her forearm, so she'll likely have to come back to base in one of the guys, probably Cliff.” He admitted. “Normal reinforcements are only a few minutes out; once they get here we'll decide on a split to prioritize getting us back to base ASAP.” He explained, reaching out and setting his hand on Sam's shoulder which felt good, steadying. 

Sam's gut twisted, knowing that Arcee was hurt. “Can I see her?” He asked Will. 

Will looked back at him before looking at Smokescreen. “I'd rather you stayed with Smokescreen, Sam. We're still not sure how secure the sight is and I don't need any more surprises today. He's a tough guy, he'll keep you safe.” He reassured the younger man while patting the top of Smokescreens roof, “And if you're going to have an adrenalin dip I want you somewhere safe.” He said pointedly.

The [concern] and [assurance] from Smokescreen was nice, and Same could understand the logic of the General's command so Sam just nodded. “Okay.” He relented and realized a moment later that the seat was reclining slowly when he could see Will more clearly though the window. “I'm getting the subtle hint that I am going to be well supervised.” He muttered but didn't fight it. Why fight it when he could feel his fingers starting to tremble?

The brush of First Aid’s mind over his own followed up with Chromia arriving with a handful of glucose packs let him know that he wasn’t the only one who’d noticed his declining reserves. “Hey Sam, special delivery!” She greeted, kneeling down next to Smokescreen with a brush of [greeting] and [care].

Smokescreen hummed thoughtfully as Sam accepted the gifts. Will patted Sam's arm once more time and then turned to jog off to where Barricade and Cliffjumper, the tallest of their current crew, were standing and talking while First Aid and Skids addressed the out of commission Swindle and Brawl. For how scary it had been just moments ago, the lack of imminent threat felt almost like a disappointment.

“What are those?” Smokescreen asked, a distraction, referring to the little red bags now in Sam's lap. 

Sam glanced down before he held one up, hand shaking slightly. “I've been having trouble processing sugars, I guess, and so First Aid's been giving me these. They're like Energon Gummies, but won't melt my insides.” He joked.

There was a pause and the two of them looked at him in surprise, “You know about ::Energon candy[treat][surprise]::?” Smokescreen asked. “I haven't had those since before ::Praxis:: fell.” Smokescreen said nostalgically. “I don't know anyone who still even knows how to make it anymore. Real ::rust sticks:: too. When was the last time you had a ::rust stick::, Chromia?” He sighed to the femmebot.

Blinking up at the roof above him as he twisted the top off of his first packet, Sam took a sip before waving the hand holding the little pouch. “The trick is that the Aluminum Sulfide has to be added after the Energon reaches 900 K and then it has to be agitated for at least 10 breams but no more than 15, otherwise the texture gets weird and crumbly.” He explained, bringing the pouch back up to his lips and sucking in the nipple. “Also, you can't add the flavors like iron when it's cooking, it causes odd leeching issues; they have to be added when it's already cooling unless you want copper, that's okay to add because it causes these pretty lines and gradients when the gummy's hard.” He muttered sleepily. “Most bots like the flavor too. It's sweet.” he yawned, finishing off the pouch and tucking it into his pocket so as not to leave trash in Smokescreen, who was being very kind to watch out for him. 

The two of them remained in stunned silence as Sam contemplated a second pouch and though Sam was pretty sure that the two were talking, all he was aware of was their EM field inflections over his own fields which felt pleasant. Sweet vibrations like music but without the sound. 

Sam felt First Aid's check in on him as he started to doze off, pleased with whatever he found, running his mental fingers through Sam's sleepy brain. '::Get some rest, we might be here for a little while.::' the medic advised.

Sam hummed, way ahead of First Aid as his body slipped into sleep mode.

Chapter Text

Sam wasn't sure how long he was asleep for but it was long enough that he felt soft and muzzie when he woke up under Will’s parka. 

Had that been there the whole time? Had it all been a dream?

But no, as he slowly opened his eyes the roof of the car over his head was a different color, as were all the interior fixtures and he was most notably in the driver's seat, Will’s seat, so he must not have dreamt it. Also, they were stopped and quiet. Unless he was dreaming now? God he hoped he wasn’t hallucinating again.

It wouldn’t be the first time but…Sam didn’t think it was this time. There was a pleasant hum in his newly discovered EM fields that he wasn’t used to but at the same time felt like home too in a weird way. It didn’t have the hazy quality of a memory or the disjointed feel of a vision and the parka would be a strange inclusion - practicality and dreams didn’t often go hand in hand. The deciding factor though was when he realized that he wasn’t alone in Smokescreen’s seat. 

Frenzy, who had somehow managed to squeeze in between Sam, the steering wheel and the door, was quietly playing on a gameboy color like everything was right in the world, smaller head pillowed on Sam’s shoulder but facing the door so that he could have his hands free. It was one of the clear plastic color ones from the 90’s with a yellowing purple case which had caused it to become a purple tinged brown, a bit like an unfortunate eggplant. Sam yawned and instead of freaking out, like he definitely would have in his original world, instead curled a little tighter around the tiny cassette’s holoform and pressed his cheek more firmly on Frenzy’s blond head. “Izzat Mega Man?” He asked sleepily. He was surprised he hadn’t woken up sooner because Frenzy, like his name, never really sat still unless he was actively hiding and was even now tapping his little toes against Smokescreens door quietly but repeatedly.

Frenzy hummed, snuggling back and tilted his gaming system to show Sam, who yawned and blearily regarded the pause screen. “Oh, I haven’t seen Zero in forever.” Mostly because even a small domestic handheld gaming appliance had caused him to grit his teeth in pain at the signal interference. The one he’d had when he was a kid had ended up with a weird warped screen soon after he’d arrived on this Earth and he had a sneaking suspicion now that those two things were not as unrelated to one another as one would initially assume.

Tilting the screen back, Frenzy continued playing. “I like the Capcom offerings, though more for handheld devices than for arcade ones.” He explained thoughtfully, “I like Street Fighter but it gets repetitive.” He grumbled.

Sam nodded, “It’s not really meant to be played solo, you’re supposed to suck at it with a friend at the mall until the game you really want opens up.” He explained, hand waving a little bit. 

First Aid had loosened his field sensitivity settings Sam was pretty sure because while he couldn’t feel much from Frenzy, who was otherwise occupied, he could feel Smokescreen feeling particularly pleased with being the one on babysitting duty watching the two of them. The big Autobot had even softened his seats to make Sam’s nap more comfortable and the air conditioning was quietly running, keeping him cool in the late afternoon sun - enough to need the parka turned blanket. 

Closing his eyes he curled a little bit more around Frenzy before addressing their babysitter. “Is everything okay out there, Smokescreen?” He asked curiously but not curiously enough to sit up, or, you know, be awake really. 

The Covert Ops agent hummed. “Backup arrived not long after you fell into ::recharge::. They have been stabilizing the Combaticons and mobilizing a unit to safely move them to the Diego Garcia holding cells until they can be transported back to Cybertron for evaluation.” He explained succinctly. “There were additional forces from a domestic terror cell also present but they became incapacitated by Crosshair’s rifle before they could cross the ridge. Backup was waylaid by collecting those agents.” He said like ‘domestic terror cell’ was a mild annoyance like an unexpected rain storm.

Sam winced but nodded. “Is Blast Off going to be okay?” He asked. The shuttle had been in really rough shape last he’d seen of the mech.

Frenzy paused his game and looked back at Sam, “Why would you care about that ::rust bucket::? He was trying to steal you.” The Cassette asked in indignant confusion. There was a wisp of [mine] under his tone that Sam wasn’t sure if he’d read correctly or not so chose to ignore.

Sam could feel the same base incredulity from Smokescreen and cleared his throat in discomfort. “It’s less about that and more about general sympathy. He’s…um, I guess you could say incredibly socially awkward?” Sam said, trying to sort through his memories of the current/former Decepticon. “He doesn’t socialize well, when Shockwave was experimenting with combiner teams he signed up because then he’d at least have people of his own, right?” He tried to distill it down for them, though the incredulity had shifted into understanding as he explained the situation. “But the other Combaticons ignore him too. He’s not so much a bad guy as he’s just kind of stuck now, and…” Sam stopped himself before revealing the shuttle's desperate crush on their team leader, Onslaught, that in a distant universe had been sweet and adorable before it had all fallen apart spectacularly and left Blast Off more alone than he’d ever been before. 

Frenzy huffed at him, “Bleeding heart.” He muttered but just snuggled back comfortably in Sam’s arms, appeased by Sam’s explanation.

Smokescreen though was more thoughtful. “From the diagnostic report he’ll be in the medbay for the next couple of weeks for welds and self repair processes to get him stable enough to transport. First Aid has removed his ::T-Cog:: to keep him from causing too much trouble but the medbays going to look more like a brig until the Delegation arrives.” He joked, pressing an [affectionate] field against Sam’s own. “Anything we should know about the others?”

Sam snorted, “Vortex is glitched, something broke in his base coding a long, long time ago and he’s been jerry rigging cascade overflow solutions for so long he doesn’t even know what they’re for anymore.” He huffed, closing his eyes again.

“Onslaught’s not a terribly hard nut to crack. He got the others into stupid situations because it played to his vanity to be a gestalt team leader in charge of IMPORTANT THINGS, even dumb ones. Now what’s he doing? Piracy on a back water world looking for some feel good biologicals?” Sam huffed. “He’s struggling to figure out what he’s doing and Swindle would have sniped in with a get rich quick scheme that intrigued his strategy programming. He’s like a dog with a bone when there’s a strategy to devise and implement.” He tried to explain while also parlaying his annoyance at that same quality. 

“Swindle is always going to be Swindle. He’s never going to change. You think he is? Nope. He’s always going to play you to his benefit. And Brawl…he’s a bit glitched but fixing that isn’t going to fundamentally change who he is. He likes being a big bruiser, and Primus help him because he seems to like Swindle too.” He chuckled sardonically. “He likes Swindle way more than he should, given the amount of crap Swindle specifically does to him, but he can’t help it it seems like. I don’t have any evidence but I think his glitch might have been introduced by Swindle.” He sighed.

A gentle brush over his mind from First Aid checking in on him got an [affectionate][cozy] response from a still sleepy Sam. First Aid, amused, sent a…diagnostic ping? Sam tried to respond with ‘Fine, but tired and maybe hungry?’ which was not exactly what the medic was expecting but it wasn’t like Sam had a full diagnostic relay to snapshot and send back as a real response anyway. First Aid’s acknowledgement and [amusement] was coupled with an impression of being rotational joints deep inside someone's chassis. 

This seemed to be the motivating factor behind Epps tapping on the window a few minutes later with an MRE from somewhere. Will appeared as Sam was sitting up and rubbing his eyes to join them. “Hey Fancy.” Eppes smiled brightly at Frenzy when Sam lifted up the parka to reveal the little blond haired menace.

Frenzy, for his part, snorted at Epps before grabbing Sam’s hand and tugging him to the nice rock that was near Smokescreens altmode so Sam could sit down comfortably with the parka offering some protection from the hard surface but, more importantly, Frenzy could lean against him comfortably, ignoring Epps and his stupid little pet name pointedly. 

Who looked amused and honestly a little flabbergasted. “What am I, chopped liver? We had a bond, man.” He joked as he tossed Sam the MRE package which the younger man nearly fumbled. 

That seemed to be the opportunity that Smokescreen had been waiting for as he engaged his own T-cog and rose to his full height with an impressive stretch. Sam had mostly seen the interior of the mech, but his bipedal form was as spectacular as one would expect. He wasn’t as tall as Barricade or First Aid, but he also wasn’t as short as Skids either. He was a solidly built mech with a cannon not to subtly protruding from his shoulder and Sam was reminded of how wise it was that all Cybertronians could lower their audial sensitivity because otherwise Smokescreen would be deaf on his right side.

Speaking of Skids, low and behold the mech was approaching them from where he’d been helping load a comatose Onslaught up and onto a semi trailer where Blast Off was already strapped down. He didn’t look any worse for wear from the recent combat except maybe some carbon scoring around his thigh region but he gate was firm and sure so it must have been a close miss.

“Sam-mah-man! You good?” Skids greeted, and a moment later Sam saw Mudflap detach from where the mech had been assisting with latching Onslaught down as well once the restraint was secure.

Sam grinned, waving, as he watched Epps and Lennox tear open their MRE bags and dig around inside for a green bag and some of the other packets. Sam frowned curiously; he hadn’t had to eat MRE’s at any point in either of his lives, luckily, but that did put him at a disadvantage to the two generals who were treating the whole experience like old hat. 

Skids, noticing, gestured and his holoform formed a dozen paces from where Sam was and ducked down to sit on Sam’s other side, earning himself a gimlet-eyed Frenzy glare, “Neva’ had one, huh?” He asked, holding his hands out for the bag.

Chuckling, Sam handed it over readily, “Am I that obvious?” He asked with amusement.

The sound Skids made in his holoform was fond amusement while the twins' alt-forms tapped wrists in greeting as Mudflap joined the group. “‘ey shorty, feeling better?” Mudflap asked ducking down to hold a servo out to Sam’s much smaller form, fields [curious] and [concerned] as he finally was close enough to feel Sam’s own EM fields. “Heard y’all had an exciting coupl’a days without us.” He said thoughtfully, not even trying to hide the wonder in his voice at the sensation as his digits almost seemed to pet Sam’s ‘fields’.

Sam reached out and gave Mudflap’s digit an affectionate little fist bump of his own. “Still breathing so that’s good. Few new tricks.” He said and sent [greeting] and [joy] along Mudflaps fields - well, across everyone's fields because unfortunately as of right now the whole thing worked a lot more like radio than it did like a cellphone.

Will’s shoulders shook at the sensation, like one would a cold breeze up one's back. “That is still so weird.” He muttered to Epps’ who simply shrugged.

Skids handed Sam something from the bags. “Snack bar.” The mech explained at Sam’s curious look. “Aids gettin’ on my case ‘cuz you puked up lunch.” He explained as he went back to prepping something in a steaming bag.

Sam pulled a face but bit into the bar all the same to Frenzy’s interest as he seemed particularly excited to know what it tasted like. First Aid had been pretty clear over the last week that he was pretty concerned by Sam’s health in general and his relationship with food in specific. Sam didn’t exactly agree, but then again he was also aware that he wasn’t the best arbiter of his own health here. It’s not like Sam had actually cared for a really long time about what happened to him, he’d accepted that he was pretty sick from something ages ago and had treated his body like a failing machine ever since. Which had likely done him no favors.

Thus the worry.

Still, sitting here with everyone felt like the most visceral and long term hallucination he’d ever had. It could have been a vision for the detail of it except that he could interact with everyone and that was the scary part because…what if it was real? Something about that possibility was somehow inherently more terrifying than the prospect of it all just being in his mind. At least in his mind the only person he could hurt was himself.

“And tha’tsa spicy meataboly!” Skids joked, nudging Sam before handing him spaghetti and meatballs dripping in marinara in a pouch. 

From their inferior rocks Epps was apparently enjoying his paella and was fishing around with one of the corn plastic sporks while Will appeared to have gotten some kind of stew for his meal. Epps shook something up and tossed it underhand to Sam but Frenzy caught it before Sam could fumble it, frowning at the little packet thoughtfully. “Hot Chocolate?”

Sam’s eyes widened in surprise, “It any good?” He asked, stuffing the wrapper for the snack bar into his pocket and holding out a hand to Frenzy for the gloopy packet and looked it over. 

Will nodded, “Not as good as, you know, the real thing but it’s alright. The Spanish pouches usually have them, lucky shit. I got…kiwi strawberry.” He gagged, looking at his own apparently unappetizing offering. “Tastes like nasty Crystal Lite.” He explained to a curious Frenzy, “It tastes like chemicals.”

“Everything you drink is chemicals.” The little Cassette said in confusion.

Epps snorted, “Yeah, but we’re designed to be repelled by certain chemicals and that--” He gestured with his spork at the bag, “--has it.” He snorted.

Frenzy finally gave the packet over, more interested in the apparently disgusting option that was in Will’s hand. Sam took the hot chocolate and held the spaghetti over to Skids for a moment. Sam peripherally watched Frenzy store his gameboy (which to Sam looked like it disappearing into the holoforms arm) and stood to go and take the bottle from Will, who more than happily handed it over.

While Frenzy was scanning the drink container Sam popped open his own hot chocolate one and after giving it a sniff shrugged and took a sip. It was thick, rich and creamy but more in the ovaltine flavor pallet than a traditional hot chocolate one. There was, however, a tiny kick of spice that tickled the back of Sam’s throat like a wave of heat through his spine from top to bottom. It was pleasant, and nostalgic, and exactly what Sam needed right then. His tense shoulders relaxed and he hummed around the flavor sitting on his tongue and finally ran off the lingering taste of old sick in his mouth that he’d become inured to.

What Sam should have expected, but hadn’t, was Skids stiffening both next to him and in front of him as the whatever flavor sensation he was outputting hit the bots and Spark Touched around him in equal measure at the same moment. 

There had to be a threshold flavorwise, Sam thought sluggishly, because the reaction was more extreme the more Sam enjoyed something he decided as everyone turned to look at him for a moment. Frenzy in particular and to no one's surprise abandoned Will to return to his spot next to Sam as Epps rolled his mouth like he was the one drinking. 

Mudflap looked started, “What wuz that?” 

Smokescreen, only a few meters further away, was looking at Sam in clear surprise. “The brief mentioned that you could use ::communion:: for the sensation of ‘flavor’.” He said thoughtfully, stroking his chin. “I have to admit, it’s a novel experience.” He admitted.

Sam raised a hand to rub his eyes, “I don’t mean to.” He offered. “I’m still new to all of this, I know Frenzy is thrilled but I’m still not so sure.” He admitted to Smokescreen.

Skids and Mudflap though shook their heads, “Nah man, it’s dope AF.” Mudflap encouraged him, squatting down and grinning. “We don’t got that kind of sensory array input, not like you lot got. It’s interesting. Novel.” He repeated jokingly, casting a grin to Smokescreen who smirked, folding his arms. Turning back to Sam his smile became a bit softer. “Don’t go tryin’ to change cuz of us, man. You only get ta be new at something once.” He reassured the human..

Epps snorted, “At least it’s a good flavor. You wanna share that Crystal Lite shit? Let me know so I can be far away when you do.” He joked, stuffing another forkful of his paella into his mouth.

Like a siren call though, somehow that brought most of the other Cybertronians out of the woodwork as other jobs wrapped up. The first to arrive were the motorcycles: Steeljaw, Elita 1, Arcee and Chromia since other than helping with minor things they weren’t big enough to really help with hauling the former Decepticons onto transports. Sam waved and had to pause juggling his bags of food to try to greet Elita-1 who laughed and waved him off.

“Refuel! I’ll still be here when you’re done.” She assured him, her bright fuchsia paint was made more calm by the early evening light. She nudged Chromia, “::He is very sweet though for willing to pause to greet me. Most of them just speak with fuel in their intakes.::”

Sam snorted and Arcee rolled her optics at her sister, “::And he understands NeoCybex.::” She pointed out to [mild mortification] from Elita-1. 

Steeljaw’s response was to chuckle, running a small scan over Sam that he could feel with a small nudge of [concern] that abated when he received a relatively positive report back. Sam didn’t take it as an invasion of his privacy since it was the equivalent to a Cybertronian looking someone over. Instead just smiled around his spaghetti and meatballs at the Mechanimal.

With Onslaught and Blast Off finally secure, Sam watched as a small human crew that he hadn’t noticed (which was fair as they were half a football field away and he didn’t have amazing eyesight to begin with) started loading up the trailer and a red cybertronian climbed up next to the cab and settled in for the long haul. “What’re they doing?” He asked curiously.

After a moment the very obvious Cybertronians strapped to the trailer disappeared and a normal box trailer took their place, hiding the red mech as well. 

Smokescreen, who Sam suspected was currently the highest ranking Cybertronian present, explained. “Mirage is going to ride with them back to Jasper. Once we’re all at base they’ll open a Ground Bridge and send you guys over.” He clarified the evening's schedule. “Mirage’s holograms are the best so he’ll travel solo but when we move the others we’ll need to double up.” 

Indeed, Hun-grr and Blot were currently sitting and waiting to be loaded up onto a transport with what looked like Crosshairs and Barricade keeping on eye on them while First Aid, Sideswipe and Bluestreak were furthest out where Brawl and Swindle were both incapacitated near a third trailer. Brawl was already loaded up and strapped into the trailer since his injury wasn’t as structurally debilitating as Swindle’s were and was stable enough to move because of it. Though from what Sam could see the same couldn’t necessarily be said for Swindle.

“The Reedman is deactivated, right?” Sam asked, the idea of the drone still sending a shiver up Sam’s spine.

The sisters nodded along with Steeljaw, “Yeah, we vacuumed it up - don’t want any shenanigans reanimating that thing even out here. They’re illegal now, since the Wars been over.” Chromia explained. “It’ll be smelted.”

Steeljaw huffed, “You still see a lot of ‘em around in certain parts of the galaxy though. Very useful for a lot of things, long as you’re the one controlling ‘em.” The mechanimal explained thoughtfully.

Sam frowned consideringly, popping open the little bag of dried fruit since he’d finished the spaghetti bag. “On my world they dropped one into Diego Garcia to steal an artifact.” He said, mind in another world, another time. “Ravage dropped it off and it walked through someone like a knife.”

Frenzy perked up, though his face pinched. “Ew. Did you get to meet Ravage?” He pivoted, not interested in listening about squishy humans dying but far more interested in the other cassette.

Wincing, Sam shook his head. “I saw Ravage.” He explained truthfully, “She’s incredibly terrifying.” He said, in a strained but complementary tone. It had also been terrifying to see Bumblebee skin the Cassette like grapes from a vine - but felt that bit of information was perhaps best played close to the vest in this world.

Frenzy nodded happily. “She is.” He smiled, leaning against Sam again. “I miss her.” He admitted quietly with a slightly [somber] EM field.

“Do you think she’ll be coming with Soundwave?” Steeljaw asked in what would have been a blasé but…wasn’t. 

It almost distracted him from what the mech had said. “Soundwave is coming here?” He asked, baffled, to the group at large. The group at large nodded like it wasn’t a big deal and Sam realized it probably wasn’t to them. No more than the Delegation arriving would be. Because the Delegation wasn't just Autobots, clearly, since there weren't really Autobots or Decepticons who weren't pirates or something anymore. “I…dunno why, I was kind of just expecting Optimus, Ratchet, Ironhide, and Jazz.” He admitted quietly at Frenzy’s confused look.

Arcee tilted her head thoughtfully, “They were the only ones that showed up in your world when ::B-127:: called them, right?” 

Sam poked at his bag of apple bits though it was long since empty. “At first.” He admitted. “But then others came. I never met Soundwave or anything in my world, but I know him. Kind of. He's in my books.” He explained. 

Frenzy suddenly sat up straight, “Yeah! The Sanarius guy, right?” He asked excitedly. “I mean, weird name, but it's him.” He sighed happily. “He's going to ask so many questions.”

Before Sam could help himself he responded, “Operation: Misappropriation of a person’s likeness Investigation.” Sam said in a not completely terrible approximation of the slightly breathy English voice he'd heard not on this Earth, not on his Earth, but a distant memory that was only barely formed from a far distant Earth. 

While Will and Epps looked at Sam like he’d lost his marbles before the Cybertronians present exploded in laughter. Even Frenzy was guffawing, the impression of tears in his eyes after a minute. 

“Primus’s ass! Yoooooo, you gotta do that when da big ‘bots here.” Mudflap gasped. 

Sam, blushing and smiling a little, shook his head. “I don’t think he’d appreciate it.” He told the bigger mech before turning to the confused General’s. “Soundwave has a distinct way of talking - very laconic. It’s kind of quirky from a communications build, but he didn’t have a great childhood because of his…” He frowned, trying to find the word that would work in English. “Mutant power? Kind of like the X-Men? He’s got limited telepathy and it caused him to be cast out because ‘special’ meant ‘undesirable’ during the Functionist days. He learned more about how to talk from what we’d consider binary here than he did people.” He tried to explain, like he had with Blast Off, but he felt like he was bungling it up from the looks he was getting. “I just don’t want him to feel like I’m making fun of him.” He finished kind of lamely.

Frenzy looked up at Sam, mortified. “What?”

“I just…he wouldn’t really deserve that. He’s never done anything to me, he doesn--” Sam offered before Frenzy was shaking his head negatively back and forth. 

Leaning in, Frenzy was almost eye level with Sam, “No, the part about being ‘cast out’. What do you mean by that?” The Cassette asked in a concerned way.

Sam frowned, taken aback. “Soundwave’s Guardian cast him out when he realized that Soundwave had telepathy. Lots of ‘bots were then but he was cast out so young - maybe only a few vorns old?” He offered, trying to think back but it was difficult with the amount of data he had to wade through. “So he grew up where others weren’t, mostly in the…” He frowned, “I don’t have the word in English. That underground area where the unwanted ones hid?” He asked, trying to clarify but the word didn’t translate. “He learned how to talk from the broken drones and undesirables and stuff there.” He concluded. 

Frenzy looked heartbroken. “::With the Empties*.::” He whispered and suddenly the holoform shattered and before Sam could say anything the little cassette from inside was sprinting towards Barricade in flashes of silver through the rabbit brush. 

Sam was pretty sure he done fucked up, but at the same time he wasn’t exactly sure how he had done so nor how badly he had.

Skids was quiet next to him and Sam remembered, belatedly, that Skids was also an ::Outlier*::. Turning to the mech he pinched his face, “I didn’t mean--” He started before Skids sighed, wrapping his arm around Sam and pulling him into a half hug, which seemed weird and Sam wanted to be uncomfortable but wasn't at the continued touching from the mech. Not when Skids clearly needed a little support of his own.

His eyes were kind when they looked at Sam’s, “ I know, Sam-ma-man. I know.” He said, giving Sam a squeeze while Sam noticed Mudflap stepping close to his brothers alt-form protectively. “It wuz a rough time. ::Outliers:: had it worse than many, but even if we were outcasts we weren’t considered disposable*, and how shitty is that to have as our comparison?” He muttered unhappily, his accent reducing as he spoke. “I knew Soundwave wuz and Outlier, I jus’...I didn’t know he had it that bad. I don’t think Frenzy did either.” Skids said, eyes distant as he watched where the Cassette ran off to.

Sam sucked his teeth, “I shouldn’t have said anything.” He decided, feeling like a shit for blabbing.

Mudflap shrugged, “Maybe not, but it explains some stuff. Shitty stuff, but stuff. Poor mech, man.” The red mech admitted. “Cast out at vorns old? Guardian wuz a ::trinket::.” He decided with venom.

Trinket. A useless person.

Sam, quietly, couldn’t help but agree. “I should go apologize to Frenzy.” He said, getting ready to stand up.

Will and Skids were quick to shake their heads. “You didn’t do anything to apologize to Frenzy for, Sam.” Will said, tucking all of his garbage into the MRE bag. “That look? That was someone finding out something bad happened to someone they love.” He explained, “And you can’t do anything to fix that. Lord knows I’ve tried.”

Skids ran his hand up Sam’s back comfortingly. “Seems like Soundwave didn’t share that part with Frenzy, which I get. Frenzy’s not good with emotions in general and big emotions like what that’d inspire?” He hummed thoughtfully. “Frenzy loves Soundwave a lot, all of them do, and I think that’s the important part to Soundwave now. Not what happened when he was a youngling.”

Sam nodded. “He treats his Cassettes better than most. They aren’t just status symbols or friends, they’re family.” He assured himself. 

There was a small...fluctuation, kind of, in the EM fields and Sam looked over to see Steeljaw turning away and start walking. It wasn’t angry, it wasn’t really like anything Sam could verbalize, but it was something. 

“Alright, get up!” Cliffjumper called from behind them suddenly. “We roll out in 5 minutes so join your assigned transport and form up!” The big mech concluded with a loud clap of his servos and with a reluctant groan the ‘bots all began straightening up from where they had been slouching or sitting while their Spark Touched companions had been finishing their meals. While the area they’d been sitting was growing dark the area around the trucks was brightly lit, like a football stadium, from a series of floating drone lights that Sam hadn’t seen getting released but certainly could see now as the light reflected off Cliffjumpers shiny armor.

Skids lifted his hand to rub Sam’s head in a friendly manner before giving Sam’s shoulder a bump after he brought the same hand back forward to clasp in front of him. “Frenzy’ll work out his feels with Barricade before Soundwave gets here. Barricade might not appreciate what you did but Frenzy will.” He explained. “Give Frenzy some space, if he’ll letcha.” He said with a wink before his holoform dissipated with blue sparkles.

Stuffing his various MRE meal bits into the greater bag, Sam pulled the various other wrappers he’d been accumulating in his pockets out to use the opportunity the MRE bag provided to not himself be a little trash receptacle. Epps stood up, leaning back and stretching his back while Will stood up and did a full body stretch, kicking his heels up at the end a little bit like a cat who’d had an amazing stretch before setting his hands on his hips and looking over at Sam.

Sam stood, picking up the parka and dusting it off. “I’m gonna…” He said, jerking his thumb to the side and Will, picking up what Sam was laying down, nodded.

“Be quick though. We’re hoping to make Jasper tonight and I for one am looking forward to not having to worry about random terrorists and pirates looking to steal my booty.” Will said with a straight face, getting a long suffering groan from the other General and a surprise snicker from Sam.

Epps gave Sam a look, “I’m looking forward to not having to listen to this asshole's jokes. Thinks he’s so funny.” He said in a mincing voice before waving his hand and heading for Barricade. “I’ll let you know how Frenzy’s doin’. He’s a little monster but he’s our little monster.” He said in parting before he was taking off with Will.

Watching them head over to their respective companions Sam instead looked where Steeljaw had vanished off to and could just see his unfairly cute ears over a darkening body as the suns light finally disappeared behind the far mountains to the west. Not sure of the reception, because though Sam and Steeljaw had saved each others lives they hadn’t actually spent much time actually getting to know each other as people, Sam loped towards the Mechanimal who cut him a yellow optic’s glance before Steeljaw looked back towards where they were finally loading Blot and Hun-grrr up into a transport carrier.

“Hey.” Sam opened with, a little less than half the mech’s height. 

Steeljaw vented hot air through his chassis. “Hey Sam.” The mechanimal responded.

Looking up at the mech for a second, Sam shifted his gaze back towards where Hun-grrr appeared to be arguing with Sideswipe about something and when Sideswipe wasn’t having it tried to bite the mech. Sam remembered that Hun-grrr was a Cybertronian cannibal, suddenly, and pulled a face. “They should put a Hannibal mask on Hun-grrr as a reminder his bite is worse than his bark.” He muttered.

Steeljaw snorted, “I hope they reformat him.” He said down to Sam. “Doesn’t happen often but damn.”

Sam couldn’t help but nod a little. Ice broken, Sam shoved his hands into his pockets, parka now trapped under his arm and against the side of his body. “I know you have a lot going on and that you don’t really like playing with others, but I’m glad they called you in.” Sam said quietly.

Steeljaw was quiet for a second, eyes distant and thoughtful before glancing down at Sam. “Yeah?”

Nodding, the smaller human kicked some sand. “Yeah.” He admitted. Thinking of the actual issues that Sam had seen over the last week though, and how they almost all stemmed from how Cassettes were treated (for better and for worse), Sam looked up at the side of the Mechanimal's face. “Especially since being around bonded Cassettes can be difficult.” Sam confirmed, sending a small [comfort][understanding] across his fields to his companion.

Steeljaw’s shoulders stiffened a little, the optic closest to Sam pinching a little on the side at the reminder. After a moment, Steeljaw’s frame loosened and he vented again. Agitation could cause an uptick in temperature and necessitate higher venting requirements but Sam was pretty sure that the mechanimal was actually just sighing rather than functionally venting. 

[Gratitude], just a small inflection, tapped him and Sam blinked up in surprise at Steeljaw. “Thanks.” The Mechanimal grunted, face turned towards where Sideswipe and at least three others were wrestling Hun-grrr into a hold so that First Aid could connect to his medical port and send him into stasis.

They watched for another minute till the mech went first rigid and them still as he was put into a medical stasis, red optics dimming from the distance.

Thinking back to how Steeljaw had reacted to the positive comments about Carriers, and how he seemed to be so defensive about the concept of even understanding the appeal of having one, Sam forged on. “You know, it’s okay to not need people to feel fulfilled and content.” Sam said, watching the much calmer Blot allow himself to be loaded up on the trailer with his gestalt-mate. “A lot of people feel that way.” He continued as First Aid jacked into the mech and sent him into a temporary stasis lock too. “But it’s also okay to let people in sometimes. It doesn’t make you weak to like others once in a while, you know, in spite of most people being dumbasses.” He said, giving the surprised eyed mechanimal a cheeky grin. “Not everyone wants something from you other than to be your friend.”

Steeljaw looked confounded for a moment, optics regarding Sam as if looking for a trick, a deception, but Sam just shrugged up at him. “You never have to reach back or anything. But you don’t have to be alone if you don’t want to.” He finished, thinking about how any Carrier would be very lucky to have Steeljaw (this one anyway, the ones in his memories were a bit more questionable), leaning slightly to the side and bumping his shoulder against the mech’s thigh guard. “Just think about it.” Sam finished as he noticed First Aid poke his head up and unerringly focus in on them.

“Shoot, I think First Aid noticed I was missing.” Sam snorted before the Guardian bond opened and sure enough, the medic pinged him for a status update with a very pointed location update and Sam sighed but smiled. 

He had people who cared for him now, suddenly, after so long and Sam wanted to let the wary mech know that he could too if he wanted, at his own pace.

Smiling up at the reserved face above him Sam jerked his thumb to where the ‘bots were indeed getting ready to head out, though he could see a couple faces pointed in their general direction. “Better head back before they send another search party.” He joked, taking a few steps through the desert scrub in the twilight.

He’d made it a dozen meters when Sam heard Steeljaw’s ped steps behind him as the mech headed towards the trailers too. It was busy, even with the ‘guests of honor’ all tied up and Sam had to watch his step as the various mechanoids and people were busy either tidying up or moving on to do something else. Sam noticed that where Swindle and Brawl had been and where Blast Off had crashed had larger crews of humans than he’d noticed from afar going through and picking up whatever had fallen off the mechs in the battle and appeared to be digging out the dirt saturated in spilled liquids into wheelbarrows that were then being loaded up and into a large black truck, like a garbage truck.

“Hey Sam, eyes up.” Sideswipe called from above him as the mech stopped his gate to let the little human pass.

Sam skipped ahead, “Oh geeze, I’m sorry Sideswipe.” He apologized, looking up at the mechs around him again rather than being distracted by the clean up sites.

The grin Sideswipe gave him was forgiving, “No worries, Sam. Just be careful.” He offered, before Sam noticed a blue colored mech behind Sideswipe peeking at him. 

It only took him a second to recognize Bluestreak up close, the mech’s curious blue eyes under the traditional Praxian chevron affixed to his brow and a set of narrow but long doorwings twitched in ‘Greeting’ behind him. “Oh! Bluestreak!” He smiled up at the roughly 18 foot tall mech.

Bluestreak’s intake stretched into a smile, “You are Sam Witwicky.” He stated, but instead of word babbling, which is what Sam had expected (there were many, many memories of Bluestreak’s propensity for word vomiting after all), he dipped his helm instead to the human, “It is a pleasure to finally meet you.”

Grinning, Sam nodded. “You were watching over us back home.” He acknowledged, though his shoulders slumped thinking about his home. “Thank you for making sure the nullifiers didn’t get found.” 

Before the Praxian could respond though, Will called out “Sam! C’mon!” as the General was coming back from one of the various groups of humans towards an especially keen eyed Cliffjumper who seemed to be doing a final assessment of the impromptu battle ground. First Aid’s mental presence poked him to hurry and he grumped a little as he waved at the two mechs. “I’ll talk to you later.” He said apologetically before heading towards Will.

Finally having Sam close, Cliffjumper smiled down at the two humans before stepping back and, once he had cleared the slightly too close humans away with a not so subtle ‘shooing’ motion, engaged his T-Cog and folded down into his alt-mode.

Will took the time that it took for Cliffjumper to transform to look Sam over and nod at whatever he found. “We’ll be in Jasper tonight, but after today I’d like you to try to get some more sleep before we arrive. When we get to Diego Garcia you’ll bunk with me until we get your quarters set up, okay?”

Looking at Will in surprise, Sam frowned, “Isn’t that going to be inconvenient for you?” He asked.

Will shook his head, “Nah. I don’t spend a lot of time at home but First Aid and I agreed that having you under supervision until we get a better read on what’s going on with you healthwise is a good idea.” He admitted, reaching forward and tugging the parka from under Sam’s arm to then wrap around his shoulders before the General caught his eye. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten that you sensed 'Danger' from a dead sleep when no one else even picked up an incoming Energon signature.” 

Surprised, having forgotten that detail himself, Sam looked away from Will. Will, for his part, didn’t seem upset and more importantly didn't press. He settled the parka on Sam’s shoulders more firmly before giving them a comforting squeeze, a beat of [support] rippling between them as Will used his EM fields too and causing Sam to jerk his eyes up at the General in surprise. “This old dog can learn a new trick or two still.” He said by way of explanation and then tipped his head to where Cliffjumper had popped his doors open for them. “Wanna see if my books still in the footwell?”

It wasn’t. Well, not all of it, anyway, when Sam pulled a section that looked like it’d been shoved through a hydraulic press out from between a non-detachable floor mat and the door panel.

“Oops.” Was all Cliffjumper said before he was roping the two in with his seatbelts and closing the doors, taking special care to recline Sam’s seat and dim the windows near to black for him.

Sam, instead of fighting it, rolled his eyes and curled up on his side facing Will with the man’s jacket covering most of him as he drew his knees up. “Wake me up when we get to Jasper?”

Will reached over and patted Sam’s elbow through the coat. “Sure. Get some sleep though, you need it.”

Considering how tired Sam was, Sam wasn’t willing to argue any other point so he just nodded and pressed his cheek into the soft material of Cliffjumpers seat. “Okay. Thanks Cliff.” He yawned, already feeling his body settling down for a post food and adrenaline soaked nap. 

[Affection] fluttered across him fields before a more pointed ‘go to sleep’ like feeling, not exactly an emotion but not not if that made sense also came through as First Aid also checked in on him, the medic seeming to rub a warm hand through his brain affectionately as Sam was quickly falling asleep.

“And out like a light.” Will muttered just as Sam lost consciousness. 

Chapter Text

Sam yawned, quietly, face pressed into the synth leather seat below his cheek long before his mind decided that he was actually awake. Dozing. There were quiet voices speaking above him and though they weren’t disturbing him in the way that having a conversation within a couple feet of someone's head did usually, they were just close enough that they registered to him as speaking through his dreamy haze. Like a TV left on during a nap.

As such, while Sam wasn’t deeply sleeping he was in that place where dreams and reality overlapped. The words started weaving themselves into the barely cohesive narrative of his dreams which was why he scrunched up his nose.

Why was Ultra Magnus sitting in a diner with him?

“--everything is nearly ready. How long do you think you’ll be?” He asked.

Sam looked down at the sandwich in front of him, a po boy that he didn’t remember ordering, and shrugged. “I mean, not very. I still at least have to start.” He admitted. He hadn’t had a po boy in forever, so he was looking forward to it but the sandwich, which was pretty big, only seemed to grow when he picked it up.

“What is that?” Ultra Magnus asked, tone confused while gesturing at the sandwich is Sam’s hands.

Or, really, the tentacle which Sam wasn’t as bothered by as he felt he should be. “I think it’s Quintesson? Don’t worry though, the ::Sharktacon’s:: shouldn’t bother us - they’re still in the pit.” He gestured towards the hole in the middle of the diner they were sitting in where Sam could see their little grasping hands as they leapt up towards a suspended mechanoid life form. Not a Cybertronian, but Sam didn’t like the Tribunal that was slowly rotating in front of the defendant. “Lemme go wrap this up.” He said, handing Ultra Magnus the tentacle before going and plucking the suspected defendant from his fishing line hold. 

Tucking the mech against his shoulder he frowned at the Tribunal Quintesson. “I told you to knock that off. You’re the guilty one here.” He chastised, picking the 5 faced being up and dropping them into a convenient bird cage to the side where a green parrot picked them up with her beak and started grooming them to the clear annoyance based on the mousy cries of betrayal.

“Sam?” Ultra Magnus called. When Sam turned he snorted with a grin at the lush canary yellow feathered boa now wrapped like a serpent around the City Commanders shoulders.

Sam went back to the table and set the little mech down on the table between them with a chuckle. “Sorry, Quintessons. They can’t leave well enough alone.” He tried to explain as he drew a banana milkshake towards himself with an incredibly curly straw. “I’m telling you, keep an eye out for them - Cybertron is vulnerable right now and they’ll cause you nothing but trouble.” He said, reaching forward and patting the human sized mech while he moved the milkshake out of the reach of the barbie sized one he’d just rescued. 

Ultra Magnus hummed, sending a gentle wave of [curiosity] and [amusement] between them. Sam, grinning, sent back his own pulse of [affection]. “I didn’t think you liked ::cake[oil][iron]::.” Sam stated, looking at the ::cake[oil][iron]:: in front of Ultra Magnus which he was scooping off a bite.

Waving the spoon, Ultra Magnus took a bite. “It’s not an indulgence I get often.” The mech stated after he chewed. “Sam, do you realize you’re dreaming?” The bot asked.

Considering the mech he’d saved was currently climbing the window like he was walking up it, Sam could believe that. “No. Well, I didn’t. I think that makes more sense than what I’m seeing though.” He admitted, blowing bubbles with his straw, the shapes like Lucky Charms as they weaved through the diner.

Ultra Magnus nodded, smiling. “Do you think you can let me go back to speaking with General Lennox and Cliffjumper?” He asked.

Frowning, Sam tilted his head. “I don’t know how I brought you to the diner. I'm not sure how I got here either.” He admitted, taking one of the bubbles and popping it into his mouth where it burst like a Boba pearl in his mouth and washed mango flavor over his tongue.

The mech tapped his digit against the side of his face plate before something touched Sam’s shoulder and Sam blinked his eyes open, looking up at Will blearily. Confused, Sam looked around but all he saw was Cliff’s familiar interior and the black sky beyond it. “Will?”

Snorting, Will patted his head. “You usurped the radio with Ultra Magnus.” The General explained with a chuckle. “Sounds like you were having quite the dream, kiddo.” Will poked.

Blinking hard, Sam frowned, “‘m not a kid.” He muttered, pulling the parking closer under his chin with a yawn.

Nodding but not looking entirely convinced, Will pulled the end of the parka down to cover Sam’s knees. “Yeah, I know. We’re about half an hour out of Jasper - you hungry at all? Probably our last opportunity for fast food in a while.” The General offered.

Really, all Sam wanted to do was go back to sleep. He was the kind of exhausted that sleep seemed to be barely touching. “‘m tired.” He muttered into Cliffjumpers seat cushion and felt the seat belt, loose around his waist, tighten a little before going loose again.

Will made a thoughtful noise before he tried again. “Would a milkshake make the offer more tempting?”

Sam was quiet for a second. “As long as it isn’t banana.” He muttered, Will rolling his eyes before continuing his conversation (logistics) with Cliffjumper and Ultra Magnus.

Jasper was…small. The lights from the city limits barely broke the dark of the night as their motley crew slowly crested the hill overlooking the town. 

“One of our own, kid named Raf, is from here.” Will told a sleepy Sam who had gone vertical (extremely reluctantly) and was watching the town with whiskey eyes. 

Sam tilted his head in the seat. “That seems oddly convenient.” He noted. 

Will nodded a little bit. “Many of the Spark Touched are American or spent a great deal of time in America. Mostly the West Coast.” The General acknowledged as they made their way into the town proper. “It’s one of the reasons why there is such a strong Cybertronian presence in the area - we figured that the number of Spark Touched from the region was a good indicator that the AllSpark was probably close by.” He concluded. “So far not much from Tranquility, but there are some anomalies seismically in the area.”

Nodding, Sam tried not to think about that too much lest he give away weird bio markers. Everyone had said that there was a Cybertronian delegation coming to Earth - it would be the perfect time to pull Optimus to the side (figuratively speaking) and actually explain what he remembered about the AllSpark and its hiding place in the Hoover Dam. It might seem kind of shitty to show that he didn’t trust everyone with that knowledge but…he didn’t.

Even after his week with the Cybertronian’s the simple truth of the matter was that he trusted Optimus to make the hard decisions. He might not make the best choice (See his ‘Suicide by Cube' plan), but Optimus had always had the best interests of others in his spark first and foremost and had been willing to act on them. 

And if nothing else…Optimus was a Prime. How he became a Prime was a little open to debate, his memory had dozens of different scenarios, but all that proved was that in spite of the different circumstances Primus kept picking the simple mech to be his intent given personification. It wasn’t like Sam could just email Primus’ and ask for the ‘God’s help here, for one thing Sam wasn’t entirely sure how to get in touch with the God turned slumbering planet, for another he felt that if Primus hadn’t woken up to smack his children around for a multi-million year civil war then he probably wasn’t going to be hugely interested in what a human from a world millions of light years from him had to say about what to do with the frozen body of one of his naughtiest children. 

“Burger too, right?” Will asked and Sam jerked his head from where it had been listing to the side and turned wide eyes to Will. 

They were approaching a drive through for an A&W Restaurant which Sam hadn’t even realized still existed. Turning to Will, Sam just nodded. 

Will, figuring that he’d woken Sam up rather than interrupted Sam’s rather depressing thought spiral, nodded back. “Bacon okay?”

Glancing at the bright shifting lights of the menu as it highlighted the options for patrons, nodded. “Yeah. Can I have a Chocolate Milkshake?”

Will smiled. “Sure Sam. I’m going to grab an order of Onion Rings, you got a sauce preference?”

Instead of answering Sam looked at the central console, or Cliffjumper since the mech didn’t have a holoform for Sam to focus on, “Is that okay? I don’t want to get anything on your seats.”

A feeling similar to a shrug flitted across their EM fields, “Get what you want - I have to hit the wash racks anyway. I’ve got something in my hip joint that I need to dig out when we get back.” The Red mech offered.

Sam frowned, looking at the console more seriously. “You’re hurt? Why didn’t you say something?” He asked, looking at Will who had the window open now and was leaning his elbow out of it to look over the offerings from the screen.

Cliff’s burst of [assurance] was not necessarily immediately trusted. “I’m okay Sam. I think I rolled over a rock and it’s stuck in the joint. Like how you get stones in your shoes.” The former autobot explained patiently.

Still frowning, Sam was about to respond when they rolled forward to the ordering flatscreen and a human-esque but clearly robot voice greeted them. “Good evening and welcome to A&W! When you’re ready, please state your order or ask about our specials this evening.” The voice asked.

The Burgerville that they’d gone through had had a person behind the ordering voice and it was…odd to have a fully automated experience. Will, who was clearly more well versed than Sam at ordering food from these things, just called the order to the voice. “--and a large chocolate milkshake. I need a ‘cooler cup’ for that too.” He finished, pulling out his wallet as the screen highlit their order for them. 

“Excellent. That will be $45.43. Please pull to the first window and an associate will be with you shortly.” Hostess Alexa or Siri or any number of those AIs instructed. 

Sam squinted at the display before turning to will. “What is a ‘cooler cup’?” He asked in lieu of the other questions he had about the robot order taker.

Will looked up from pulling out a card, “I don't expect you'll be able to finish the full shake right now. Cooler cups are insulated to keep the contents cool for about 24 hours. No A&W in Diego Garcia and they won't bridge us over for fast food.” He grinned. 

“Too often.” Cliffjumper corrected. “Don't think we aren't aware that Percy can be manipulated by you guys.” The mech needled. 

Adopting a look of feigned ignorance, Will tapped his card against the steering wheel. “Why, what a baseless accusation. I will have you know that Perceptor has always been nothing but professional and respectful of his duties as one of the few mechs with the authorization to trigger a ground bridge.” Will offered and Sam was glad that the window opened and a man with a fast food workers uniform leaned over to collect payment, otherwise Sam would have burst into laughter as opposed to grinning. 

Behind them, Barricade was driving while Epps sat in the passenger seat and were clearly disagreeing about something on the menu. Sam didn't see why since Barricade couldn't ea…oh, but he could taste what Epps was eating now too.

Sam was wondering if Epps wanted to share something with Barricade or Barricade wanted to try something or didn't want to try something. 

Something to ask about later. 

The rest of the caravan had split into two groups it seemed. Smokescreen and half of the backup had continued on towards wherever they were going while the original caravan and Bluestreak, Sideswipe and Mudflap had elected to stay with the Spark Touched. 

First Aid was in the back of Sam's mind, a warm presence, attentive but not exactly paying attention to Sam. He was talking with people, Sam was pretty sure, but didn't want to poke. It was odd, like having a hand on his shoulder but also having space. 

The man handed over a soda container and what must be the ‘cool cup’, the milkshake already having a weird straw stuck into it. “Did you want any other sauces with that?” The man asked.

Will looked at Sam who shook his head, before frowning, “Ranch?”

Will snorted but the man seemed nonplussed and tossed a couple into the bags as he handed them over. “Have a good night.” He offered and Will waved at the service person while Cliffjumper pulled away from the window but didn't leave the lot. Since it looked like Epps and Barricade had resolved their discussion, Sam figured that they were just waiting and hummed when Will handed him his bag after checking them.

The smell of grease woke a pit in Sam he hadn't realized was there. In short order he had the burger opened and was stuffing his face to Will’s amusement, he only paused to have a slug of milkshake.

He almost didn’t notice when they started driving again except for the stop before they got back on the highway as Will was sipping on his soda. “We’ll be at base in about 20 minutes.”

Pausing, Sam looked up at Will. Chewing and swallowing, Sam frowned. “That’s really soon.”

Nodding patiently, Will took a bite of onion rings. “It is. We’ll have a brief check in, make sure that we’re not bringing anything to DG that we’re not supposed to and then they’ll bridge us over. There’s a 13 hour difference between the two so even though it's--” Checking his watch, Will hummed, “--2130 here, it’ll be 1030 tomorrow there. Usually we encourage people to stay up until at least 2000 but you should be okay to go to bed once we’re safely home.” The General explained. 

Sam looked out the window. “But we have to go.” He frowned.

Will nodded. “We have to go. It’s going to be different but different isn’t bad.” He reassured Sam.

Sam slowly munched on his burger but didn’t say anything to that. He'd let himself kind of forget that the end goal was Diego Garcia - no, put the thought aside was more correct. He'd been treating this like a new adventure but when it was over he'd go back home and…

…And he'd be alone again. 

If he was even here. He felt like this could be real, heck, even like it should be given how things had worked out but…but there was lingering doubt.

‘::Sweet Spark?::’ Came First Aid's cool mind gently stroking his rabbiting one. ‘::Hey, I can feel your anxiety increasing by not negligible levels. What's wrong?::’

Sam turned and pressed his face against the clear aluminium oxynitride that mimicked the clarity of glass but was three times harder than steel. It thrummed like all cybertronian flesh and Sam took comfort in that, grounding himself. ‘Is this real?’ he whispered mentally back. 

Instead of just assuring Sam that it was, which is what his mom always did, First Aid just stroked across his nervy mind soothingly. ‘::What brought this on?::’ Was all he said. 

Sam could feel Will's cautious gaze and hunched his shoulders. “It feels real, but it's felt real before.” He muttered, unknowingly switching from mental to verbal. 

Will breathed out and Sam felt Will's hand reach towards him before he felt the palm lie soothingly between his shoulder blades. “Sam?” Will asked softly and Sam tilted his head to glance at Will as First Aid did something similar across their bond, both soothing him. “Sam, it's going to be okay.” Will said and Sam breathed out slowly, closing his eyes and feeling Cliff hold him a little closer with his seatbelt. 

“I'm feeling very anxious.” Sam admitted. 

The hand in between his shoulder blades rubbed his back in gentle circles. “It's okay Sam, having elevated anxiety is completely normal given the situation and our impending arrival. When we arrive at base I'll take some assessments and determine with you if you would like some medical assistance to address it.” First Aid's voice drifted soothingly through Cliffjumper’s speakers. 

Sam pressed his forehead against the window. “I want to go home.” He admitted quietly. 

The rubbing didn't change but Will’s fields reverberated across his own and that was…that was nice. Like a tuning fork at just the right frequency. Sam’s shoulders relaxed slowly and before he knew it they were pulling up to a guard house with about 4 soldiers, United States ones, though Sam couldn’t really tell what variety of soldiers they were. Space Force seemed the most appropriate.

“Good evening Sir.” One says as he peels away from the others. “May I see your security badge, please?” The man, younger, hispanic, a sleek HUD, and with a curious glance at Sam who is obviously, at least to other people, having a ‘difficult’ night. 

Will nodded, patting Sam’s back one more time before pulling out his wallet and handing something over. Sam thought it was a card, and the guard pulled it up and Sam saw the HUD flash blue briefly before the Guard nodded. “You are clear for entry, General Lennox. Your passenger will need a security badge, however. If you will hold on for a second I’ll grab one from the office.” The man, Rodriguez*, requested and Will nodded.

“Thank you, Corporal.” He said easily and Corporal Rodriguez saluted before going back to the booth. 

The other three, who were either Privates or Specialists (thanks memory for pulling that out when he didn’t really need it?), were watching the section of the convoy lining up with interest.

Sam could get it, even without Mirage their group was full of fantastic vehicles that would get a gear head going. “Did the rest of the convoy arrive already?” Sam asked curiously.

Will nodded, resting his hand on Sam’s shoulder again. “Yeah, they arrived about 20 minutes ago. They’re being seen to by the medic on base right now. If they’re cleared for travel they’ll come through the gate to the facilities on Diego Garcia but otherwise they’ll stay here until they’re safe to move.” Will reassured Sam.

Sam nodded, eyes tracking the soldiers as Corporal Rodriguez finished with the badging business and came back, handing Will the badge and clip. “Thank you for waiting, General Lennox. Mr. Witwicky’s badge has a level 2 clearance, so he’ll need a chaperone to access any facility above that.” The man explained.

Not seeming surprised by this, Will nodded. “Thank you very much Corporal.” He acknowledged as the Corporal gave a thumbs up to the person manning a small lift for the gate and saluted again as Cliffjumper pulled forward and began the trek up and to the base itself while Will handed Sam his security badge which…well, looked a little more formal than just ‘Visitor’ on it. There was a small picture of Sam, it might have been his drivers license photo, actually, with some details (also suspiciously similar to his driver license, and a red tag in capital letters stating ‘LVL 2’ on the top. 

Sam, feeling like he needed to fill the quiet, coughed. “Why didn’t Cliff have to get a visitor's badge?” He complained with a slightly sassy tone, side eyeing Will.

Will, for his part, gave Sam a little shove, “Probably because his clearance is higher than mine most of the time.” He sassed back.

Cliffjumper pulsed with amusement, “Life is anything but predictable*; I don’t think either of us will have greater clearance than you for much longer.” He teased. 

Sam snorted at that, “We’ll see if I even get clearance enough to get my manuscript back.” He huffed, but more in exasperation than in anger. 

First Aid, apparently also on the channel still, huffed. “It would defeat a great deal of our eventual hopes to do so, so I think you’re going to be fine Sam.” First Aid chided the man and Sam finished the last couple bites of his burger and stuffed his bag with the remains before leaning back in the seat normally to watch as the base approached.

The entire thing was surrounded with 10 foot tall fences with razor wire and security cameras that Sam could see, but there were also trails around the fence for wheeled patrol as well. The landscape was pretty much the same as the rest of Nevada - pale tan sand that very clearly could only really support sagebrush and cacti and the small creatures that lived in that environment. Maybe a coyote or two if they were feeling particularly ambitious. 

The base itself looked new. Or, at least, the paint on the buildings looked new: rows of identical buildings lined the main road with enough room for parking and two lanes of traffic between each identical two story yellow building, and a small airfield out beyond them. It was a little bit like if someone had been given access to the Sims and just copied and pasted the same structures dozens of times. 

“It’s bigger than I was expecting.” Sam offered.

They continued driving and Sam realized they were heading towards a large mountain and not one of the buildings. Glancing at Will, Sam frowned in confusion. “Where are we going?”

Smirking, Will tipped his head towards the mountain. “The Jasper Base. This section is for overflow and Logistics, some diplomatic stuff. There’s another Bridge in DC which is almost exclusively for Diplomacy but, again, most of us are from this section of the country so having a large base here makes sense.”

That made a fair bit of sense, Sam supposed, watching as their convoy approached the actual base. There were large blast doors, like Vault doors in the Fallout games, and as they approached a new guard and station with another guard inside called them to a halt. 

The new guard approached Will’s side of Cliffjumper and Will lowered the window again before handing the man his security card. The man looked at the card through his HUD (did everyone have them here?) and nodded to the General, “Good evening, General Lennox.” He said politely. “Can I see your passenger's badge, please?”

Handing over the new card to Will, the guard received it after and then handed them back before saluting as Cliffjumper waited for the blast doors to slide open before pulling forward. The doors opening revealed a brightly lit interior space with concrete floors and rough hewn stone walls with several dozen layers of walkways and windows built into the walls.

“It used to be a nuclear bunker.” Cliffjumper offered as the door remained open behind them and Sam saw that off to the side was the prisoner convoy in what looked to be a large medical wing if the large red cross outside the doorway and a list of words that translated to ‘Hospital’, though he was intrigued to see not only NeoCybex but also Seeker and Decepticon and surprisingly, Maximal.

Will nodded, “During the Cold War. It was derelict and abandoned for nearly 60 years before the Cybertronian’s arrival and it was given a use again. Raf, the kid I told you about, used to hang out in here with his friends when he was a teenager - he’s the one who clued us in to it when he was picked up. The Bridge is in another part of the cave system.” Will explained as they pulled up to the medical wing and Sam took the hint when Cliff opened the doors for both of them, grabbing his backpack from the backseat where it fell out of subspace for him and collected the parka, his trash, and his milkshake.

Crumpling his garbage up, Will grabbed his own backpack and exited Cliffjumper who took the opportunity and rolled back to transform into his bipedal form. Sam, concerned about Cliffjumper’s hip, walked forward as the rest of the convoy began following through the doors.

Cliffjumper had turned as the sisters came through but glanced down when his proximity sensor alerted him to Sam’s approach. “Hey Sam, what do you need?”

Tilting his head towards the mech, Sam indicated his pelvis. “I wanted to see if I could help with whatever’s in your hip.” He explained.

Cliffjumper’s facial plates softened with a smile. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll get it out when we wash.” He explained.

Frowning, Sam nodded at the gentle rebuff. “Okay, but I am very good at getting to those weird fiddly bits, especially between plates.” He explained, showing his narrow hand. “If you have trouble I don’t mind, I know how annoying it can get.”

Cliff smiled, but his helm tilted thoughtfully. “Do you?”

Sam nodded as Will joined them, taking Sam’s garbage and looking between them, Will wrapped an arm around Sam’s shoulder. “Let Cliffjumper hit the shower racks - we’re going to have to as well.” He explained, tugging Sam towards the hospital wing. “After we get assessed.”

Sam frowned, now confused. “We do?”

Will nodded, “Yeah, Diego Garcia is a remote island with a delicate ecosystem. Beachcomber has a whooooole presentation on it that he’ll show you if you aren’t careful. The takeaway though is that Bridging there has a few safety protocols for the trip including a decontamination phase. After today I wouldn’t mind a shower though, I have sand in places I don’t want to think about.” Will explained.

Chuckling, Sam sucked a sip of milkshake through his straw and looked around curiously as they entered the hospital wing itself. It was larger than the foyer area, but a large section of it was closed off as it looked like Fixit* and…Flatline*(?) were working on the various members of the Combaticons arrayed in the bays off to one side of the massive room in 15 foot tall berths. 

Instead of going to them, though, Will tugged Sam to the opposite edge of the room where a…much smaller medic was sitting on a large cushion, idly looking over what appeared to be several monitors of data and records at a speed Sam found concerning.

“Hey, Glit*!” Will hailed and Sam blinked as the Cassette turned to greet them.

“Mr. General Lennox.” The feline shaped Cassette, similar enough to Ravage to spike Sam’s adrenal gland without truly scaring him, smiled at them from where he was getting up and walked over. “I have been informed that you’re intending to go to Diego Garcia this evening.”

Tilting his head, Sam was surprised that he hadn’t picked out Glit immediately but at the same time he wasn’t. He’d only had a moment and Glit had changed his configuration fairly steeply since Sam had last seen the mechanimal.

Glit turned his purple optics on Sam consideringly. “You are our new Spark Touched, the seer, Samuel Witwicky.” He said thoughtfully.

Frowning, Sam shook his head. “I’m not much of a seer, I’m afraid. Just…kind of like a janky Tivo*.” He tried to explain, only for Will to give him a look before the General turned to the Cassette surgical engineer.

“He’s still getting used to stuff. First Aid’s been working on improving Sam’s health so you’ll probably want to review whatever First Aid put down before doing Sam’s assessment.” The General instructed while moving towards a medical berth, much smaller in size, and setting his backpack down on the cushy material.

Tilting his head in an almost dog-like manner, the mechanimal walked towards where Will was checking his phone and engaged his t-cog to stand as a minicon rather than as a space saving box. Glit started pulling things out of a cabinet to the side and Will hopped up on the table comfortably, indicating for Sam to take a chair against the wall that was partially hidden by a box of medical supplies, human ones, that had been stacked in piles around the small section of the room.

Setting the backpack down and laying Will’s parka over top of it, Sam watched the room curiously from his spot as Glit began his examination by first scanning Will and then asking the General to remove his shirt to address burns that Will had sustained when it had rained glass on them.

More interesting was Fixit and Flatline. Fixit was a friend of First Aid, they’d studied together under Pharma (which Sam had feelings about) and were the best to Sam’s knowledge, friends.

While Fixit made sense, he’d been an Autobot, Sam remembered Flatline, kind of. From his original world. The mech was, for all intents and purposes, the decepticon equivalent pediatrician and though that had played out pretty sickeningly in his world (cloning, he remembered, they’d been trying to bypass the AllSparks destruction by cloning sparks (blasphemy)). He’d…

Sam frowned, the memory wrong and distant, not from this world, and he raised his hand to his head at a throb of pain there. The memory was right there, so Sam pushed a little and…

Chromia and Elita-1 were dead.

No, wait, that wasn’t right. They were alive. They were in the next room. But, also, not right. They were dead and Flatline had…he’d split Arcee’s spark into three and that’s…

He’d known zombies. There hadn’t been a Chromia, or an Elita-1 on his world; he didn’t think so. There’d only been Arcee and the bodies of her sisters that her spark was animating.

Sam suddenly had to puke.

Luckily, there was a conveniently placed trash can - win binliner! - at hand and he dove for it as soon as he realized what was going on and made it just in time to vacate his stomach of the meal he’d just stuffed into it and heave. 

Sam immediately regretted tugging on the memory string for Flatline. He even knew it wasn’t a memory in this world but he couldn’t leave well enough alone, could he? He groaned, his stomach cramping again as another wave of disgust at the…at the…sacrilege Arcee and her sisters had been subjected to. The sheer…

“Woah, hey there buddy.” Will soothed, hand pressed to Sam’s forehead and back before Sam felt a hand press a cool cloth to his nape. “Ooof, the food was a bit rich for your stomach huh?” Will sympathized, misunderstanding the origin of Sam’s illness. Sam, unable to first talk and second articulate why his gorge had been triggered so heavily, grunted with a nod as more kept coming up.

The cool compress on his neck helped and the sensation of a scanning was distracting enough that he was able to breathe and swallow around the next hurl, keeping at least something in his stomach.

The hand on his forehead pulled away and another cool wet cloth was pressed there, helping the last of the nausea abate enough that the next diaphragm fibrillation only released an air pocket in a truly impressive belch.

“Fuck, man, don't do nothing by halves, do you?” Came Epps’ voice from behind them, not unsympathetic, and Sam just grunted, sitting back while clutching the bin like a disgusting teddy bear, not convinced that the storm had entirely passed. 

“You're okay, sweet spark.” First Aid crooned and Sam realized that the cool wet clothes weren't Glit but his Guardian instead. The overwhelming feeling of disgust giving way to him becoming aware of the medics presence through the bond. 

He hiccuped. “I don't feel good.” He admitted, hiccuping again. 

First Aid nodded, “I can see that. I'm going to give you an anti-nausea medication, and then we're going to get you some water and your going to lie down for a bit, okay?”

Sam hiccuped again before nodding. “Don't go.” He begged quietly.

The hand on his forehead rubbed into his clammy hair, “I won't. I'll be right here.” 

Sam nodded, closing his eyes as his sleeve was rolled up and something was injected into his port. 

There was chatter around them - First Aid must have been slightly distracted by Sam's outburst for Sam to hear any of it, but he could pick up bits and pieces. 

#”::--uardian bond with one? Very unconventional. I've never heard of cross species--::”# Glit was saying, though Sam couldn't follow the full conversation. When a human wasn't involved the cybertronians spoke so fast that it was hard to follow. #”::--ad no indication of illness when he arrived. I was assessing the General when his symptoms initiated--::”#

Will unclenched on of his hands from the waste basket and held a small glass of water to him. “Wash your mouth out and then small sips, okay?”

Sam distractedly nodded. “Wanna lay down.” Want to forget what I just remembered was more like it. 

First Aid nodded, hand on his neck applying pressure and oh, that was lovely, enough that he went a little boneless, swaying a small bit holding the bucket and glass still as the cup made its way to his mouth.

He closed his eyes and swished the water in his mouth, only then becoming aware of Frenzy arguing with Epps a little ways off.

“But he was fine. He ate, why is he sick? Was the food bad? Are you all going to get sick?” The small cassette asked.

“Nah, Sam's got a delicate constitution. Will thinks it was too rich for his stomach to handle after today.” The General reassured the fretting mech. “Coulda been anything. Sam's not in the best shape right now so it's hard to say.” 

Frenzy, for his part, huffed. “Why can't I go check on him?”

The reproach in Epps’ field hit Sam the same as it hit Frenzy. “Because we're not helpful here. What're you gonna do? He needs medical attention, not just attention.” Epps grunted at the little mech.

“Okay Sam, how's the nausea now?” First Aid asked and Sam realized he'd listed slightly to the side, leaning against the medics shoulder. 

Turning internal, Sam checked himself before he wrecked himself. “Kinda queasy, still.” He admitted. “‘m sorry.”

Will huffed, “It takes a seasoned veteran to handle fast food for days on end.” He joked and Sam smiled a little, nodding. “You'll feel better in a little bit, just sip your water.”

Prompted, Sam did so and a minute later he was helped to his feet by First Aid and Will as Glit took the bucket from his hands for disposal. Before Sam could protest a new, fresh bucket was handed to him. “We're going to lay you down for a minute, okay?” First Aid confirmed. 

Sam nodded and actually did need the help up and into the gurney/hospital bed. “Izzat you?” He asked, tapping the bed and breathing hard as he finally laid down. 

First Aid shook his head, “No, standard medical berth. I'm going to hook you up to an IV pack, okay? I'm going to add a longer acting anti-nausea to the mix and then your going to rest for a while, sound good?”

Sam nodded, blinking his eyes open to realize that they'd closed at some point. “Stay?”

First Aid's face softened. “Okay. I'll stay. Not going anywhere Sam.” He said, running his hand through Sam's hair as he soothed Sam through their bond. 

Will stretched his back and before Sam knew it, Will had thrown his parka over Sam's back as First Aid connected him to the IV cannula for his bag. First Aid then injected a few syringes worth of medicine into the bag and hummed soothingly. 

“Is Arcee okay?” Sam asked, whatever was in the syringes hitting hard and fast. 

First Aid nodded, “She's fine, ::Fixit:: is seeing to her now. He was always a deft touch with femme frames, he's better at the delicate wiring.” The medic complimented his friend from across the room.

“She's okay.” Sam muttered to himself. “Her sisters?”

First Aid, frowning a little at the line of questioning, ran his hand over Sam's hair again. “Safe. Everyone's safe Sam.” He explained before nudging into Sam's head, ‘::What happened, Sam[cherished]? Did you have another vision[memory]?::’

Sam just nodded, pressing into that hand. ‘Bad.’ he projected and…gosh he was tired all of a sudden. ‘Didja drug me?’ he asked sleepily. 

The medic felt slightly apologetic, but nodded. “Just an anti-anxiety med to take the edge off.” 

Sam hummed, “‘Kay. You'll stay, right?” 

Feeling the medics mild amusement, First Aid responded. “Yes Sam, I'll stay.” 

Sam nodded, having forgotten that he'd asked that question a few times already, tugging the parka around his shoulders. “‘Kay. Needja safe.” He muttered. 

The hand came to rest on his nape again and squeezed a little bit, which felt very nice. “Nothings going to happen to me; Fixit is just about to do my exam and then my mech form will go to the shower racks.” The mech explained soothingly. “You’re going to hang out here until you feel a little better, okay?”

Sam made a grunting noise, “Make sure she--they see Fixit too.” Sam muttered. “Safe.”

The hand on the back of his neck paused thoughtfully. ‘::Did you see something bad happening to Arcee and Flatline?::’ The mech asked perceptively, or maybe Sam was just being slow. It felt like he was trying to run in water, like he kept losing things. 

Sam nodded. “Bad. Bad things.” he muttered as his mind lost what those bad things were as he started falling asleep. “Keep ‘em safe.”

First Aid hummed thoughtfully and that’s the last memory Sam had.

Chapter Text

“Honestly, if we didn't have to move him I would argue that we shouldn't. The trip down has been hard enough - his readings are all over the place and none of them are good.” First Aid explained with feeling. “Hypotension, anemia, osteoporosis, electrolyte imbalance, kidney and cardiovascular disease, not to mention the hypoglycemia.” He huffed. 

Will rubbed his mouth, eyes directed over towards where Sam was sleeping soundly. “You mentioned that his scans have been improving.” The General clarified with the medic.

First Aid nodded, tapping his ped on the ground softly. “My initial examination was pretty poorly, my first scan was abysmal. His body has been eating itself for decades and he's about as lean as one can get without skinned down as one can get before they stop functioning. The AllSpark energy is the only thing keeping him going at this point, but since…since the incident outside of Lake Shasta, it's been marginally improving. But there's a lot of activity in his neural net that is borderline dangerous.” The mech sighed. “He's going through energy he simply doesn't have right now and I can't keep food in him long enough to digest it, let alone absorb anything.” 

Glit, in mech form, tapped his servo on his pommel, “It's been incredibly unstable - humans do poorly in unstable environments when they're under stress.”

“Which Sam is.” Epps concluded, looking back at Sam and narrowed his eyes when he noticed a small foot, definitely not Sam's, sticking out from under the parka as well. “Can we keep him here for a few days? Just till he's had a few meals and some solid sleep in a real bed?”

Glit, First Aid, and Barricade shook their heads. “Kids leaking AllSpark energy like a sieve - we're lucky the Combaticons were the only ones that found us, honestly. Highest single signal out of all of the Spark Touched, greater than some of our younger members combined.” Barricade grunted. “When he had that signal blocker on it cut it down, but Skids said his collar didn't just take damage, it was busted from the inside out. Overloaded.” 

Will blew out a breath, “So he's a beacon.” 

Wrapping up his own examination, Cliffjumper joined them after patting Flatline's shoulder in thanks. “Jasper is fortified but if we get hit with more than one crew on a frigate or better, we're sitting ducks here - we'd have to gate out of here anyway.” The mech vented, hand on his hip struts. “Is Sam technically stable enough to gate over?” The Commander asked First Aid. 

Glaring for a moment, First Aid tipped his head in consideration. “Technically, yes. He is likely going to suffer from gate green*, but I'm worried it could potentially spark a seizure; we've never tried gating someone over with epilepsy before and considering how his episodes are based on discharge of AllSpark energy and how quickly his systems are accumulating we could see one sooner than later given the surge in energy a gate produces as it transports someone.” The medic admitted. 

Glit tilted his head, “Where are we relative to his last episode?”

Regarding Sam on the gurney, First Aid sighed. “He had an episode at his home at ::37 Zeph:: and on the road at ::24 Zeph::. He's been building charge since and he's almost at ::15 Zeph::. The accumulation slows as it grows, but there isn't enough data to give a true indicator. When he was in the nullifier field it was, purportedly, every two weeks or so but we've thrown that timeline on its head.” The medic couldn't help but regretfully inform them. “Sam was correct to be worried, he's not in a condition for his body to take that kind of shock regularly - with his other medical concerns a bad episode could kill him.” 

That caused the room to turn to the sleeping human with varying levels of concern. “How does that make him ‘safe to move’?” Will demanded helplessly. 

Pointing at Sam's form, First Aid rolled his wrist. “ Alone he runs the risk of expiration, it is a much more manageable percentage with me and Glit or Fixit - humans are a bit too delicate for Flatline.” He joked to the mech who'd joined them as all of the convoy had finished their medical exams.

Flatline smirked but gave First Aid a gesture that he'd picked up from the humans around base* before shrugging it off. “No offense taken - human anatomy is not my specialty. I'd as likely squish him as render aid.” The big mech admitted. “We could offer to help him discharge safely.” The mech postulated thoughtfully.

First Aid cut the older mech a look and Flatline threw up his servos. “Look, it's a viable treatment option for new sparks, especially electric types - it doesn't have to be anything more than giving this one a safe space to release a charge.” The former Decepticon got out, folding his arms over his chassis. “The other Spark Touched do it without issue.” 

Eyes drifted to Epps and he shrugged. “That it discharges our build ups ain't exactly the reason we do it, and we’re not totally the same either. Sam's charge is leagues bigger’n ours anyway, right?” 

Will folded his arms, tapping his foot with a frown. “He's also much more symptomatic than we are. We don't actually know what it'll look like with him - what if he shares a vision or something in the process? What if it triggers one? He's not exactly in the best shape here and he's not been exactly subtle about being pretty disturbed about looking at himself.” 

First Aid waved a hand. “We can discuss this to death but the one who needs to be in this conversation isn't in it.” He pointed out. “As Sam's medical provider and Guardian, it's my responsibility to inform him of his options and administer treatment and aid if required.” He said solemnly. 

Epps gave First Aid a look. “You'll excuse the doubt but you're not exactly…” he failed to find a way of saying what he meant but First Aid adopted a very zen expression. 

“I am reserved with my physical affection, but I am not incapable of functioning in such a manner. It, as Flatline stated, doesn't have to be anything more than medically necessary discharge of accumulated charge.” He said with dignity. 

Will rubbed his eyes, “It's a little more intimate than an oil change, Aid.”

First Aid shrugged, “For a normal human, even a Spark Touched, perhaps, but Sam knows our history and customs already.” He said thoughtfully, “I’ll discuss it with him once we arrive at Diego Garcia, hopefully he'll be open to the idea.”

Will didn't look convinced, “Okay. Once he's back at base and stabilized as much as we can in his current condition, we can look at options and discuss it with him, but it's a bit more private than a room full of people talking about him like this while he's too insensate to participate.” 

Flatline frowned, “::This is the human modesty[bashfulness], correct?::” He asked Cliffjumper at his elbow.

For his part, Cliffjumper shrugged. “::I suppose[consider it] so. Will can be a bit tetchy[growly] outside the berth when the mood[temper] strikes, I try to be respectful[back away slowly] but it is odd[unfamiliar]::.” He offered. 

Sam, for his part, would have been mortified to overhear that whole conversation but luckily for him, he was completely out of it and deep enough in sleep that neither memories nor dreams could touch him. He didn't even wake when Epps walked up to the bed and tried to drag Frenzy out from where he'd curled up in Sam's arms and his sleeping fields to resonate his own with Sam's comfortingly. 

“He likes it when we cuddle.” The Cassette defended himself, fastening himself to the gurney. 

Epps rolled his eyes, “He isn't awake to tell you that.” He pointed out, causing the boyish holoform to pout and tuck his forehead into Sam's throat willfully but gently. 

“He sleeps better when someone's with him. You and General Lennox and First Aid said so.” He again pointed out, “I just want him to sleep good.” 

Epps, annoyed but not willing to drag the Cassette away and possibly wake Sam up, who would be disoriented and confused given the previous times he'd woken up under sedation that Epps could remember, rolled his eyes up at Barricade who was far more tolerant of the little Cassettes behavior. 

By this point most of the unneeded people had left the room; First Aid had broken off with Glit and Fixit to determine who would be the best for for the trip through to Diego Garcia and Flatline went back to working on Blast Off since he, of all the Gestalt members, had the greatest structural damage. 

Barricade’s holoform materialized a few feet away from Epps and joined him, looping an arm around the Spark Touched shoulders. Glancing down at Frenzy, he looked the two over before turning back to Epps who had a patient but exasperated look on his face. “Frenzy, you're gonna let Sam sleep, right? You get restless, you leave to work it out and come back, you don't try to hang out and wake him up - got it?” 

Frenzy huffed but nodded, “::Yessssss Cade.::” He muttered.

Barricade nodded before giving Epps a tug towards the door. “Ain't nothing we can do now without causing more fuss.” He argued. “Let ‘em sleep. He’s not wrong, either.” 

Will, who had been checking his phone, waved them off. “I'll keep an eye on them until First Aid finishes up, then I'll grab a shower and turn in for the night. It's been a day, Ray, we need rest too.”

Unwilling to argue, because Will if nothing else was the more pragmatic about these things, Epps nodded before tugging Barricades holoform, “A’ight, but we popping some plates to get you scrubbed before.” He bargained and Barricades grin turned cheeky at the temptation offered there. 

Will rolled his eyes as the two small forms and the big mech form retreated towards the wash racks were undoubtedly everyone else from the convoy had either been, was currently, or would be in the not so distant future. Stretching, Will glanced at Frenzy but in spite of his expectation of the little fragger being a little fragger, Frenzy was curled up quietly with Sam for all intents and purposes in recharge himself. It was cute, almost domestic even, to see the two of them curled up under his coat.

“Never thought I'd see Frenzy quiet without a medical lock.” First Aid murmured as he joined Will. 

Will grinned, “Didn't think he had it in him, but Sam's got a certain…” the General trailed off.

First Aid hummed, “Energy about him, doesn't he?” The mech chuckled. 

Nodding and stuffing his phone into his back pocket, Will gestured to the doorway and out towards the dormitories. “I'm gonna catch some shut eye, alert me when he wakes or if there are any issues?”

First Aid inclined his head to the much smaller human, “Of course, General.” He acknowledged. “Sleep well. I'm hoping that he'll be out for the night but you never know with these things.”

Waving his hand, Will hooked a thumb at Sam, “‘specially with this one.” He sighed. 

Giving the General a quick look over (scan unnoticed), the medic tipped his helm towards the door. “So it would appear. Glit will be joining us in the morning when it's time to return to Diego Garcia as auxiliary medical support. He's scheduled back in a week anyway for when the Delegation arrives.” 

The General nodded, “He's one of Soundwave's, right?” 

The mech nodded, “Soundwave has been particularly generous to have so many of his Cassettes supporting the establishment of a relationship with Earth but it's hard for them to be apart for months at a time. The space bridge will make that easier, but for now they're all gathering in anticipation.” 

Noticing one blue little optic glancing at them from a human face, Will nodded. “It'll be good to meet Soundwave finally. Everyone seems pretty fond of him.” 

“He's a very intelligent mech, empathetic for those he cares about.” First Aid explained, though with slight reservation. Though they were on the same side as now they hadn't always been and First Aid remembered just how terrifying Soundwave could be if you got between him and his mission. 

Understanding, Will nodded and after going to the gurney and adjusting the jacket to better cover Sam and his limpet, bid them all a good night before departing. 

It was hours later when Sam roused, eyes bleary, looking around. Frenzy poked his head up and regarded the human curiously. 

Medical bays being what they are needed constant attention and organization so at the increase in heart rate and the bond stirring to life drew First Aid from his work and back towards the small gurney and it's precious cargo. 

“Hello Sam.” The red and white mech greeted, smiling as Sam looked up at him radiating confusion and joy. “Do you remember where you are?” 

Looking around, it was clear that Sam didn't really, but was drawing conclusions from his observations. “Medical bay?” 

Nodding, the mech cast his holoform down to join the smaller figures lest he tower over them before his large body returned to the task at hand and his holoform took over the more size appropriate jobs. “Yes. Do you remember how you got here?”

Sam frowned, “We were driving. We're in the Nevada town.” He remembered. “I'm really groggy.” Sam complained.

Sam's IV had run out a while ago, so First Aid guessed the reason for Sam's waking even without needing to scan him. “We have a restroom over here if you'd like to use it.” He offered and Sam nodded with enthusiasm. 

“Bodily functions are so inconvenient.” Frenzy muttered as First Aid brought the bed railings down and revealed Sam from under the material. He looked tired and dirty, a crust of fine desert sand caked across his clothes, skin and hair. He also looked like he was only barely awake and a falling hazard in the shower so the medic kept that opinion to himself for now. 

Sam nodded as First Aid maneuvered him into a sitting position before helping Sam slide off the bed and stand, holding his shoulders as the meds in Sam's system and his general exhaustion caused him to list to the side a step before correcting. “Don't I know it.” Sam huffed. “Human bodies are the worst.” He laughed. 

Frenzy sat up, the large parka basically a tent on his small frame. He was about to add something, probably disparaging, when First Aid caught his attention. “Can you go to the officers office and grab a heatable meal, prepare it, and bring it down? Sam should have something to eat.” 

Sam was amused to see two warring factions in Frenzy's face, the stalwart egotistical side that did grunt work for no one but his carrier and the slightly anxious part that was clearly worried for Sam. “Don't worry about it, Frenzy. I'm not hungry anyway.” He offered the mech an out and…

Well, frankly, had the literal opposite effect because that little face set in determination, an almost ‘you think I can't do it?’ expression before Frenzy launched himself from the gurney, jacket still on his shoulders and nearly to his calves (it was a long coat anyway but Frenzy had elected to emphasize how small he was so he was only a little over 4 feet tall so it was massive on him) as he jogged quickly out of the medical bay. 

Fixit, from the corner, chortled and Sam rolled his eyes. “Sometimes respite is just a respite and not a challenge.” He grumbled as First Aid helped him towards one of the accessible restrooms kept in the human part of the medical bay. 

“Kid, Frenzy can find challenge in an inanimate object - its not a you issue.” The other medical officer joked. 

Sam rolled his eyes but couldn’t say he disagreed with that assessment as he finally was able to head into the restroom, First Aid eyeing him before letting Sam close the door. Sam might be exhausted but he wasn’t tired enough to have someone help him use the toilet - thanks. It was a bright space with a commode (with enough support systems that Sam was pretty sure that Stephen Hawking could use it without needing assistance (RIP physics bro)), a sink and a shower set up that someone with a wheelchair could navigate pretty easily.

Part of him would have assumed that it was for someone specific but Sam also knew that it was far more likely that someone had read what ‘accessibility’ meant and had gone for the most inclusive option. Because Cybertronians came in so many shapes and sizes, accessibility was viewed as a social responsibility, not a burden, and planned accordingly. It was at odds with the human way which viewed accessibility as something to be suffered through. 

Not that Sam needed it but he was grateful to have some hand holds and support as he finally dealt with one of his very annoying but necessary bodily functions. Done, Sam went to the sink and washed his hands; that the sink was gray with the dirt that came off his hands reminded him that he had spent part of the last day belly down in dirt and Cybertronian dust trails. He almost looked to see how bad it was in the mirror he was studiously ignoring but Sam decided against doing so. Wasn’t worth it.

When he came out of the restroom he yawned, eyeing the gurney wistfully but First Aid drew his attention towards him with a small wave. “Come on, Sam, I want to do a check on you and see how your energy levels are.”

Internally groaning, Sam nodded and let himself be directed to the same medical table that Will had used. He hopped up and winced slightly, his flank a bit sore. First Aid’s optics keenly caught the expression and he helped Sam steady himself before initializing a scan of the man and humming thoughtfully before lifting the side of Sam’s sweater, noting the bruise there.

Surprised, Sam blinked at the large purpling bruise on his side. “Oh.” He offered, not sure but inclined to believe that it was either a reminder from Brawl’s scooping maneuver or from Smokescreen’s catching one. “I didn’t even notice.”

Nodding, First Aid lifted the material a little more. “He did sideswipe you at speed. Your systems have already begun to address it.” He explained, running a hand gently down the skin for a temperature assessment. “Smokescreen detected no lacerations, broken bones, or injured organs but bruising it’s seldom noted by non-medical builds. You’ll be tender for a bit, I will get you some ibuprofen. Usually we would suggest ice but it’s been hours since the injury and it’ll offer only middling benefit by this point.” The medic explained.

“And it’ll be cold.” Sam shuddered.

First Aid smiled in acknowledgement. “And it’ll be cold.”

Just then Frenzy came through the doorway, scowl on his face, with a black meal kit on a tray with a can of soda on it and…a Tupperware that Sam was pretty sure he could see a post-it note attached to and as Frenzy drew closer Sam was proven correct. 

“Frenzy, last I checked my name wasn’t George Miller.” He teased as the Cassette set the tray next to him. 

Frenzy huffed. “You don’t know that. You’ve got a new name, right?” He said authoritatively before folding his arms. “Besides, Sergeant Miller is a jerk and fat, he doesn’t need cake.” And you do was left implied.

 Sam laughed, bringing his hand up to his face. “God, what time is it even?”

A gentle prod at his fields led him to…a string of characters that he hadn’t realized were there. Frowning for a second, Sam’s face cleared in amazement as he poked at the characters and realized that they were digits - they were times. “Is that…?”

First Aid smiled. “I noticed it earlier when we bonded that you have some data streams in the background that I suspect you are not aware of. Time is one of them.” He explained and Sam grinned, realizing that not only did he have time, but that there were other data streams as well. 

“What’s this one?” He asked, tapping at some other information now that he was aware that it was there to interact with and frowned at the feedback he received. Like, literal feedback like buzzing in the back of his teeth.

Frenzy huffed. “I went all the way to the officers office, you should eat!” He declared, climbing up onto the medical table and handing Sam the cake first and a pilfered fork.

Considering that it was four in the morning, Sergeant Miller wouldn't notice it's absence if Sam did eat it for a while. “Thank you for bringing food, but I don't think I'm going to eat someone else's food. I will eat whatever else you brought though.” Sam offered to Frenzy's pout. “Why is Sergeant Miller a jerk?”

Crossing his legs to sit down, frenzy held out the soda to Sam while First Aid's holoform rubbed something camphery smelling into the skin of his side that Frenzy couldn't see. “He called me a ‘blender’ or a ‘food processor’ when he see’s me. He calls all of the others by the wrong brand too. Like he calls Cliffjumper a Chevy.”

Considering that Cliffjumper favored the Dodge Charger Sam could see a little bit of what he was getting at. “Is he…trying to be mean?”

First Aid helped roll Sam's sweater down. “No, he's trying to be funny - which is a far graver crime.” The mech said in a very decent imitation of dignity and Sam laughed in response. 

The little mech glared. “I'm not a ‘food processor’, my alt mode is a media unit.” He grunted. 

Examination and treatment done, First Aid leaned back and folded his arms. “Sergeant Miller means no harm. I believe the term is ‘Joshing’ - he's engaging in verbal playing with you to attempt to build attachment and friendship.” The medic explained. 

All that did was narrow Frenzy's eyes. “No he isn't. He's being a jerk.” 

Sam popped the soda lid before sipping it and drawing the tray to him. It was a sandwich pack - the kind that grocery stores had with the mayo and mustard off to the side and a sandwich, potato chips and a trail mix pack off to the side. The sandwich was pretty big and Sam, though not particularly hungry, popped the container lid and set to work. 

As he was assembling his sandwich he shrugged to the little mech next to him. “He's probably not trying to be. Human humor isn't the same as cybertronian humor - there's a lot of in group nuance to it. Sergeant Miller sounds like he's teasing you, which is a type of humor but it's…hm, a bit juvenile?” He frowned, trying to explain to the rather literal Cassette. “It's not entirely the same but when you were the expresso machine at the Shasta house - I was teasing you when you when I asked if anyone wanted an expresso. Was I being a jerk?”

Frenzy scowled, and Sam could see that to Frenzy he actually had been. “I'm sorry, Frenzy. It wasn't meant maliciously - teasing is a method of joking that can come off as being a jerk but it's meant to show attachment and camaraderie. I guess it didn't translate well.” Sam said thoughtfully. 

First Aid, who had been retrieving a tray from the other side of the medical bay, gave the two of them a look. “Teasing isn't just a human trait. Frenzy, you've seen people teasing each other. You can't get away from it with Skids and Mudflap.” 

Folding his arms and clearly not getting it still, Frenzy frowned. “They're jerks to each other. I don't understand how they are so close when they treat each other like that. I'd kick Rumble if he treated me like that.” He explained with dignity. 

Sam chuckled. “I guess it's…hm, I guess it's just a humor that doesn't work for you. There's a lot of those - Jerry Seinfeld did ‘observational humor’ which wasn't really my jam either.” He said, sandwich fully assembled and took a bite.

He noticed Frenzy immediately leaning into his fields to piggyback off the feedback of the meal but though it was a little invasive, Frenzy's knee holo was also pressed to his hip so it wasn't like the little guy wasn't already pushing his luck. Kind of. For having had such a traumatic introduction to his first Frenzy this one didn't ping many alarms. 

“I like the comment section jokes for my shows.” Frenzy said, seemingly losing interest when the sandwich basically received a lukewarm reception from Sam's taste buds. Fridge sandwiches tended to be like that. 

Sam nodded, “A lot of it is ‘in group' though, right? If you haven't seen the show, then you won't necessarily get the jokes. Or the community itself has a lot of running jokes. Teasing is like that but in a social group. It can get mean, which is toxic, but I was never actually going to use you as an expresso machine.” 

Frenzy frowned more, turning and slumping against Sam's back. “I don't get it.” 

First Aid finished moving the food to the table with a sigh. “Frenzy and Rumble are a bit more literal than most. Soundwave too if I'm honest.” The mech hummed, popping the potato chip bag for Sam. 

The little Cassette was sending out [confused][annoyed][embarrassed] vibes so Sam sent back [affection], feeling Frenzy lean more against him like a lizard on a heating rock. 

“It happens. We're all different - I'm glad that you have Rumble and Soundwave though. And I'll try not to tease you in the future - it's not fun if no one else is having fun too.” He concluded after a large bite of his sandwich. 

Thanking Sam was beneath him, but Frenzy's appreciation was clear across their fields when the little mech was plastered to him. 

Blue eyes gave Sam an affectionate look while the Guardian Bond hummed with connection. It was nice, if sleep inducing. First Aid focused on Sam entirely. “We're going to bridge over later today - the only ones too injured to move are Blast Off and Swindle so they'll be staying behind. Glit will be going with us as well, for additional support.” 

Nothing in the way that First Aid explained that would imply that Sam was the one who needed the additional support but he had a sneaking suspicion that Glit wasn't there to support the Combaticons or Terrorcons, but him. Because he wasn't…well, this whole trip had illustrated just how poorly he was doing. 

Instead of voicing that though, he just nodded. “Glit is one of Soundwave's other Cassettes here, right?” he asked. Sometimes Glit had a different Carrier, but he usually was partnered with the big mech. 

Frenzy nodded against his back and Sam noticed that he'd pulled out a small game console to entertain himself. “Yeah, Glit’s closer to Ravage than to anyone else though. They're from the same ::Constructor::.” Constructor, builder. That would explain why their frames were so similar. 

A dim memory of a mech with six arms and tools in all of them percolated in the background of his mind loosely. “Tinkertanker?” He asked, thoughtfully.

First Aid and Frenzy seemed surprised, but Frenzy seemed pleased that Sam knew. “Yes! He also built Lazerbeak’s protoform.” 

And Steeljaw’s.

Popping a chip in his mouth, sour cream and onion, caused Frenzy to look up from his game at the flavor. “That one's different?” he asked.

Sam nodded, “It’s acidic - acidic things often taste…tangy. It's a mild acid, we're pretty pH sensitive.” He tried to explain.

Frenzy looked thoughtful, “‘Tangy’. So other acidic foods taste tangy?”

Sam held up his soda. “Depends - this soda could break down one of my teeth if left exposed to it in something like a week. But it tastes pretty sweet because of the sugar in it.”

Giving Sam a laugh, First Aid turned to Frenzy. “The human tongue distinguishes between thousands of unique chemicals in conjunction with each other - you're going to be investigating for a while before you find some clarity in flavor.” 

Frenzy frowned, “I thought there were like 5?”

“There's five broad categories, but there are lots of differences between them.” Sam nodded. “I don't like spicy that much - I can do a little but Epps can do a lot.” Epps popped jalapenos like grapes when they'd had a BBQ at Will's house and Sam couldn't wrap his head around that still.

Frenzy looked intrigued. “And the trail mix?”

Sam dumped a handful into his palm - nuts, berries, M&Ms and little granola clusters. “Do you know how you can get ‘peppy’ grade Energon? The one with the stuff added?” He wasn't sure if Peppy really translated but the explanation at least made sense to the Cassette who looked over the offerings. “It's a bit like that. It has foods from all over the chemical profile for flavor and if I have a bit my brain will ping pong as it processes the different flavors. It's interesting but most people like more ‘single note’ flavors because the combination can be a lot.” He said before popping the whole handful in his mouth and doing just that.

Sam wasn't the biggest fan of trail mix but Frenzy's rapid expression change let Sam know that Frenzy didn't like the combination more. 

“Ew!” The small holoform grunted, moving away from Sam. “That's…gross?” He said, confused. 

Washing the snack down with a sip of soda, Sam shrugged. “It's not gross - well, I guess not to me. It’s a lot of information though, and not exactly information that you’re too familiar with. I don’t like liver, or stinky cheese, and there’s this japanese bean stuff my mom made me eat because it was supposed to be good for me since one of my doctors said that my gut health could be affecting my mental health because human’s have stomach brains.” He grumbled.

The look on both Frenzy and First Aid’s faces were incredulous for different reasons and Sam sighed. “Because I didn’t improve, my mom went further and further into the weeds to find anything to help me. I tried really hard to be…you know, not crazy, but I was pretty badly symptomatic. I was talking to people that weren’t there--” Not an invitation to start talking to me again Sam grumbled internally, “--I was stuck in waking visions, the nightmares, I’d get hyper-fixated on designing stuff. My mom was a California mom, she wasn’t prepared for that. She even brought me to a place that did crystal healing once.” 

Making a face, Frenzy looked at First Aid as the only trained medical professional present. “Crystals?”

First Aid sighed, “While there are crystalline structures that can be beneficial for certain ailments, the unfortunate problem is that those are generally speaking consumed - for humans, anyway. Cybertronians can benefit from certain kinds of radiation or alternate energy that can help with out systems, but organics are more delicate in many respects - they’d likely have killed Sam even with his Spark Touched benefits.” First Aid gave Sam a sympathetic look. “Other than the nightmares, though, you’ve shown remarkable improvement in the other areas.”

Swinging his leg below him, Sam picked up an M&M. “Yeah, not really so much. It’s been better, in some regards, but in others…now a lot of it get wrapped in seizures and those suck.”

A flicker of conflict was missed by Sam as First Aid thought of the conversation he’d had earlier before clearing. “Well, we have access to a lot of treatment options your prior physicians didn’t. We’ll see about coming up with a plan that works best for your needs.” He said and Sam nodded, eating another handful of trail mix.

Seeing Sam essentially done with his meal, First Aid started collecting what was left on the table to either bin or put into the small refrigerator that was kept in the human side of the medical wing. He frowned at Seargent Miller’s cake and placed it on Frenzy’s lap. “You’re taking this back to where you found it.” He declared.

Frenzy, for his part, glared at First Aid. “No. He’s a jerk and he doesn’t get to have cake. Cake is a treat for good people.” Like Sam his angry little eyebrows said. 

Sam, amused, tried to send back censure but from Frenzy’s giggles he hadn’t - probably because he didn’t actually feel very censurous. 

First Aid rolled his eyes, “You’re acting like a sparkling. Sam can’t eat it anyway, he’s too full.”

“‘But there’s always room for cake’! The TV people say so.” Frenzy defended his position. 

Rather than addressing Frenzy again, clearly not a winning strategy, First Aid turned to Sam. “I think a shower would do you some good. I can grab you some scrubs while we wash and decontaminate your clothes before the bridge over.”

Sam frowned, “Can’t I wear my PJ’s?”

The medic shook his head, “It all has to be cleaned and decontaminated before we go to Diego Garcia.”

Something in Sam twisted. “Even my hoody?”

Nodding, First Aid tipped his head towards a machine to the side of the bay which didn’t look much like any washing machine Sam had ever seen before. It didn’t look cybertronian either, but rather something else entirely. “What even is that?”

Frenzy scoffed, “It’s ::Darosian*::. They make okay appliances.” He grunted. 

Sam barely remembered the Darosian’s, honestly. They were…kind of feudal? Kind of exploitative labor practices? “Are they still autocratic?”

Instead of answering, First Aid looked thoughtful. “A memory?”

Frowning, Sam shrugged. “I think so, but it’s not very clear. The Decepticons helped some people get into power and they exploited others but it’s…pretty sparing in the details. And I don’t want to go chasing the rest of that information down - I get sick when I do that.”

The medic’s eyes narrowed. “Like earlier.”

Looking deliberately away, Sam shrugged. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Nodding, First Aid ran his [understanding] and [open to talk if you want to at any point] across Sam’s fields and Sam was grateful that that was it. No needling, no prodding or poking or pressing: just support.

Instead, First Aid helped Sam down from the medical berth, ignoring Frenzy’s [indignant] at having his pillow move out from under him and away, and went to a cabinet to grab a pair of scrubs for Sam. “Your other items are being decontaminated with the Generals items so the last thing to get are your clothes. If you hand them to me once you're out of them I can get them started in the wash.”

In short order Sam found himself naked and washing in a shower that had real water pressure for once. It was bliss, and after a minute he was also glad to have the chair built in because alone he felt no shame in sitting and just letting the water cascade over him.

It was over too soon and after that Sam felt a little ashamed at how grateful he was to climb back onto the gurney, under a real blanket because the parka needed decontamination too. First Aid ran a scan and hummed thoughtfully. “Am I gonna make it doc?” Sam asked jokingly.

“Your systems are processing energy pretty quickly but a lot of it is focused on your bruising. A significant portion of it is still being processed too quickly. Your exhaustion has picked up, hasn’t it?” Sam shrugged but didn’t deny it.

Not to be ignored, Frenzy (who had returned the cake under much duress) climbed up into the gurney too and bullied his way to wrapping around Sam’s non-bruised side. Sam, rather than annoyed, was amused as he glanced down at Frenzy. “Comfortable?”

The mech merely nodded, head on Sam’s shoulder and flinty eyes glaring at First Aid in case the bigger mech tried to get rid of him.

First Aid, surprised but used to the little fragger at this point, just rolled his eyes. “Get a little bit more sleep in. I imagine that we’ll be heading out as soon as you’re up.” The medic predicted.

Sam, already partially asleep, agreed vaguely before he soon found himself nodding off, Frenzy’s soft weight and warmth welcome to the man who had started to grow cold. First Aid ran hair hand through Sam’s hair and tucked the blankets in around him a bit before leaning back and glancing at Frenzy who had been using his holoform more than he typically would or, in First Aid’s opinion, should. 

“::You’ll get your ration[fortified] and recharge[real] once we get to base. You’ve been maxing[overusing] out your holoform generator this trip[rescue] and I don’t want to have to fix[rebuild] it because you’re over using it::.” The medic cautioned and got a surly glare for his trouble as Frenzy cuddled closer to Sam. “::I’m serious[don’t try me]. Your infatuation with Sam[precious][cherished] is understandable, but your health[functionality] is also important::.”

Frenzy just huffed and closed his eyes, making a point of ignoring the medic as he went into the equivalent of power-save mode pressed to Sam. 

Chapter Text

“Alright everyone, line up!” The tech, human, called as the ground bridge’s electrical array began its initiation process. “I have been informed that while all of you have used one of these in the past that some of you haven’t used the Earth based system so I’m going to run through a brief safety announcement while the system gets running. This is the Jasper Ground Bridge site and is the oldest station on Earth--” Sam didn’t think that was technically true, “--and we have a track record for safe jumps. Do not ruin my sparkling reputation with shenanigans today! I’m looking at you Mudflap and Sideswipe, I am still finding paint in places no god fearing man should after the last incident.” The woman said, pointing at them aggressively, “You will travel in a single line. You will pause between deployments for confirmation of receipt from Diego Garcia.  You will keep your arms and legs inside of the ride at all times!”

Sam, between First Aid and Will, tried to hide a smile from the Sergeant Major because he realized that this safety briefing was primarily for him. “Passionate, huh?”

Will gave him a pointed nudge, “Professional. Wilkes hasn’t had an issue yet and she aims to keep it that way.” The General explained.

“Your personal effects will travel through last so if you need anything in case of bridge disturbance, please grab them now or possibly deal without them. If you are hiding anything in your subspace, I will know about it.” She finished with very pointed eyebrows.

Just then the hum of the machine tickled the back of Sam’s molars and he blinked as the icons on the Bridge, ancient Cybertronian, lit up and Sam watched as the gates aperture burst into light and a cascade of illumination coalesced into almost like a burst of water. Considering the last time Sam had dealt with one of these he’d been farted out into a sand dune in Egypt this one looked much more tenable, preferable even. 

Sam grinned at Will from inside his, the General’s, parka. “You know, Space Bridge’s weren’t developed by the Cybertronians.” He revealed to a curious Lennox, “They were introduced to them - well, originally. During the Occupation of Cybertron* the Quintessons outlawed the technology, but Teletraan--” At Will’s confused look Sam clarified, “It’s a…like, sentient computer but not really alive, it squirreled the information away and Shockwave was able to…” Sam trailed off at the expression on Will’s face. “Will?”

Shaking his head, Will raised his hand to place on Sam’s trapezius and gave the muscle a fond squeeze, “Go on, sorry.”

Frowning still, Sam nodded. “Well, he was able to implement the technology again. It was important during the second Golden Age, the one after the Quintessons were kicked out, because Nova Prime*…um, I guess Optimus’s four times removed predecessor(?), was an expansionist. He oversaw the establishment of like 200 different colonies and there were Bridges to all of them.” Sam said, pleased that he'd cohesively remembered that.

Will wasn’t the only one listening and Sam jumped when Skids leaned over them. “200? Really?”

“Man, we ain’t got 20 now. Resources be tight." Mudflap complained. “No booster fuel, even the rally tires are imports.” He gruffed, wiggling his own tires.

Sam hadn’t realized that. “Well, a lot of them had to be abandoned.” He explained, feeling a gaping wound in his own heart - especially after his vision before he bonded with First Aid. “The…uh, gosh, I think it translates to the Starlight Dream? The characters are a little wrong, but anyway--” Mirage was the first one through the gate and it swallowed him like a mirage, “--they were exploring and found Antilla again.”

First Aid frowned. “Antilla?”

Sam nodded, “The vision I had that triggered our bonding, it was about them. They created a disease called Cosmic Rust after they warred with Onyx Prime and…” The Fallen he almost said before shaking his head. “It hunts for Cybertronian metal and rusts it - eats you alive. The planet had to be abandoned after the surface became contaminated. The Starlight Dream went to Antilla because it was close to a gate and appeared to have energon deposits. It didn’t - it had old stores from the war. When they got there they were disappointed because it was clearly not a world rich in Energon when the Starvation* was on the horizon. When they got back on their ship to head home they, and their ship, were all infected. Cosmic Rust can be fast acting or slow acting depending on what phase in it's cycle you catch it at and they'd found one in a slow acting phase. They didn’t realize they were even sick until they were in port.”

Through the gate went Elita 1, then Chromia, and finally a patched up Arcee.

First Aid’s face was grim. “The disease would have spread quickly.”

Sam nodded, “Too quickly. The crew was dead in days and the ports were contaminated the moment that they landed. It could have been contained if the Bridge wasn’t in such heavy use. The contamination was identified and a state of emergency was declared in a Cybertronian cycle but by then it was too late. They blew the network and only re-established contact after a real vessel could make the trek and verify there was anyone left to contact.”

Will sucked his teeth, “Jesus.”

Barricade grimaced ahead of them where Frenzy was about to go through the ground Bridge. “We heard about it. Everyone knew someone that was on a colony.” He revealed.

Sam nodded, but seeing Will’s perplexed face he again backtracked. “That Prime I mentioned, Nova Prime? He ballooned the population to have soldiers for his Grand Galactic Empire but he didn’t have food for them. He disappeared and the next Prime, Nominus*, bungled it - his Senate rationed the Energon supply but gave no rations to Nova’s people. They had to sell themselves basically into slavery in the colonies as Energon miners to survive. Billions died.” 

The Cybertronians around them were quiet and Will squeezed Sam’s shoulder. “Maybe we talk about something else for a little while, huh? When was the last time you were on a beach?” Frenzy had already gone and Barricade was just about to step through.

Sam frowned, about to open his mouth when he was interrupted. ‘ Sam. Go south.’ It demanded.

“No, not right now.” He hissed, hand going to his forehead as Barricade disappeared through the event horizon of the gate. 

Immediately, First Aid and Glit, who was further back, turned to the small Spark Touched with concern. First Aid began a scan as the voice pressed again. ‘Go south. Now.’

“I went south, I am south, how much more south do I need to be? South isn’t even a great direction! There’s a whole other continent south.” He complained to the voice. “You always get me in trouble!”

Will pulled Sam out of line, but the damage was already done as the line devolved into a concerned partial ring around Sam. First Aid knelt down, servo behind Sam and Will while Glit was pushing his way towards them. 

“Sam, I need you to tell me what’s going on.” First Aid said and it was another voice that was there and in his head and it was just a lot, okay?

Sam looked up at First Aid over Will’s head. “They’re talking to me again.” He tried to explain, “I don’t know where I’m supposed to go. They’re saying ‘Go South’ but I don’t know how far or where.” He groaned. “They never explain and I’m just supposed to fucking ‘figure it out’ like I always do and it’s never right here, I always get it wrong and then they lock me up in prison for five years and then I’m on a registry and can’t leave the freaking country anymore--” Sam rambled and Glit finally joined them. 

The two medic’s didn’t even glance at each other as they both independently ran scans and started rabbiting back in forth in what Sam was sure was Neocybex but wasn’t able to catch more than a few words in because it was the medical subset of the language that he was not personally the most familiar with. 

He looked up at Will’s concerned face with consternation. “I’m sorry, they just talk sometimes.” 

“We got a problem, Gentlemen?” Sergeant Major Wilkes interrupted as Sam was directed to hold still by a distracted Glit. 

Lennox moved back to speak with her. “We are assessing. Sam’s condition is delicate and he’s experiencing some medical complications.”

‘Go South, Sam.’ The voice, louder, pressed into his mind and he felt pressure behind his eyes like the beginnings of a migraine.

“I’m getting some strange signals.” Glit finally responded in English to something First Aid warbled at him. “There’s definitely something banding in, but it’s tuned specifically to Sam’s protofilaments - I’m not picking it up ambiently nor can I get directionality.” 

First Aid’s face narrowed in concern, shifting his ring digit to give Sam someplace to settle as his knees trembled a little from the new and very unwanted sensation. First Aid had boosted him with a glucose pack at breakfast not even an hour before but it wasn’t helping. Sam leaned back and the larger medic turned to Glit. “::I’m getting a spike[increase] in hypoglycemia - can you run[scan] a full diagnostic on consumption points?::”

Glit nodded as he did so and Wilkes pointed at the gate. “I can’t keep this running indefinitely, General. All gate technology is finicky and keeping this open much longer isn’t advisable. You either go or I close it.”

Lennox looked back at the group and nodded. “Close it. We’ll stabilize Sam and try again later.”

Frowning, Sam turned to Will through the pressure. “No, I can do it. It’s just walking.” He tried to persist, feeling a spike of animus to the voice for bothering him now of all times. Probably why they were doing it, to keep him here which suddenly Sam wanted to do the exact opposite of. 

Shaking his helm, First Aid gave Sam a look. “Sam, let’s just calm down. There is no real rush, the gate will be there when we need it.” 

Sam, frustrated suddenly, stood back up. “But I don’t want to go south! They’ve been quiet for years! I am not some kind of…of…puppet that they can just make me dance because I can hear them again. No! I can do it!” He declared and the concerned looks and faces of doubt caused him to scowl. “I can! You all think I’m some kind of weak child but I’m not. I know that I’m fucked up but I can still do stuff.” He said with greater and greater agitation. 

Lennox, seeing a panic attack coming, turned from Wilkes with his hands up in an appeasing gesture. “Sam, calm down bud. You’re okay, we’re okay. Just breathe with me for a second, okay?” Will said reasonably.

Unable to do reasonable, Sam shoved at First Aid’s servo. “I’m fine. I just…I just need to catch my breath.” He nodded, though the black speckles in the sides of his vision weren’t promising. 

“::Hyperventilating, his O2 levels are dropping::.” Glit informed First Aid quietly. “::Should I prepare a tranquilizer::?”

The term ‘tranquilizing’, even spoken in NeoCybex, caused Sam’s hackles to rise. How many times had that been the solution when he just needed a minute to catch his breath? “I’m not crazy.” He declared, looking from face to face, “I know I look crazy, but I’m not. I don’t, I can do it. Even if I was crazy I could still just do it!” He tried to explain, but no one was listening to him, no one ever listened. “I don’t have to listen to them. I just…I can ignore them. Please don’t make me.” He begged but if anything it caused everyone to believe him less.

First Aid, who’d moved his servo to give Sam space, tried to get through to Sam. “We are all just going to calm down and breathe for a minute - okay? Nothings wrong.”

But there was. Sam knew there was, you don’t tranquilize people for no reason. “I am calm! I am cool as a cucumber! I am trying to explain that I’m fine.”

“Fucked up, insecure, neurotic and emotional.” Wilkes added under her breath and Sam felt shame like he always did when people not only acknowledged his illness bit highlighted it.

He took a step back, breathing, great billows of air and there was a communication between First Aid and Glit that Sam didn’t catch but his mind filled in was First Aid confirming that they were going to tranquilize him. 

“I’m fine.” Sam repeated, more to himself than to them as he took another stumbling step back. “I’m fine. I’m okay.”

Will’s eyes flickered behind Sam and then he cut them to Wilkes. “I think we need to shut the gate down.” He said quietly and Sam noticed the flickering light on the General's face and realized that he was close to the event horizon of the gate.

“I can do it!” He said defensively and before anyone could stop him he quick footed back before turning and dashing through the event horizon of the gate, ignoring the ‘Go South.’ order the same as he ignored the yelling from the bots and people behind him.

Which, the second his foot left the platform, Sam realized probably wasn’t the wisest thing to do because he was panicking and also panicking Sam was either brilliant…or, by equal measure, monumentally stupid. 

He suspected he knew which one he was this time.

When he’d gone through Jetfire’s bridge it had been unexpected and completely outside of his frame of reference because he’d been A.) a literal child B.) completely exhausted and C.) being ridden by the vestigial power of a dying AllSpark Shard so while he remembered it, it was vague and superimposed upon it was terror and wonder and no small amount of motion sickness.

This time through was…different. There were certain overlapping factors, clearly, because he was completely exhausted and that residual AllSpark charge had set up a tidy little home inside his brain somewhere and liked to fill its garden with knowledge that Sam didn’t need nor want to be there, but the actual trip was different.

It was supposed to be instantaneous. You weren’t supposed to actually, you know, experience much: you stepped through one gate and out another and that was it.

That wasn’t it. 

It was dubbed unspace* in the research, Sam thought vaguely as he perceived light and sound and sensation that weren’t real like reality was. It was…well, disconcerting. The trick to how Space bridges worked wasn’t to connect the two portals in normal space but to punch through to a whole other reality in unspace next to each other at the same time and that was what connected you. Like a folded piece of paper with two holes, with unspace being the folded paper in the middle.

The problem with that was that unspace wasn't…empty. Exactly. It was the nexus between dimensions or worlds or realities and they weren't the only ones using it. The likelihood of interacting with something else was astronomically remote, but never zero. And the problem with Sam's jump through unspace was that the gate had been open longer than it probably should have. The destabilization that gates experience as they remain open that Wilkes had mentioned? Sometimes it was just strain. 

Sometimes it was because something noticed you. 

So, as Sam perceived infinity and nothing at the same moment, something else perceived him. Sam only noticed when a massive form, mass in a massless environment, incredibly large even for its kind, tried to reach for him and for a startled moment they locked eyes.

Locked optics. 

Sam had just been speaking about him but Nova Prime, thought lost, looked at Sam, at the energy of the AllSpark in such a tiny package, and shoved as hard as his frame could from his own realm to get to unspace, to get to Sam.

Darkness. Cold. Dead. Sam watched in horror towards the servo that reached for him before suddenly the Diego Garcia gate caught his signal and hauled him through so fast that he could only see the beginnings of the mechs facial plates shifting in a silent scream before he was literally thrown through the gate at speed, traveling through the air and bracing for impact before a servo, huge in size, caught him mid flight and cushioned his otherwise pretty descent momentum to something bearable, not breakable. 

Still knocked the wind clear out of him though. 

“::Primuses Spike::!” The mech above(?)/in front of(?)/below(?) cried out as the gateway collapsed behind Sam with a klaxon of warning. “First Aid's gonna kill me! You alive, squishy?” A hulking voice asked him as the servo reoriented to cradle Sam's body like a broken toy. 

He hoped he wasn't one, but with how suddenly numb and in pain he was Sam wasn't so sure. “Ow.” He mumbled before the tapping of footsteps informed him that someone else was approaching. 

“I think you just got Fast Ball Specialed* a Spark Touched, Bulkhead.” The new mech, thin and red, chuckled before holding out his servo. “Give them here before you squish them.” The medic said in a bored but slightly exasperated tone. 

“Sam‽” Someone yelled and Sam blinked up as he was very gently set into a new set of servos. 

The mech who'd servos he was cradled in glared with gimlet red optics at Barricade as he approached. “Don't crowd, a master needs his space.” The mech…medic(?) stated before focusing in on Sam as a fuzzy black helm came into view above Sam’s vision. 

“‘cade?” Sam gasped out and reached for the mech with his fields, causing the one holding him to stiffen in surprise before focusing, really focusing on Sam for the first time.

“Well, hello there. What do we have here?” The mech grinned with a razorblade smile.

Barricade growled at the mech. “Not now, Knock Out. Is he okay?” Barricade demanded, reaching for Sam with his own fields and wrapping him in the [comfort][concern] and cradling Sam’s presence close to his core. “It's okay, Sam, we've got you.”

Knock Out pouted, rolling his optics at Barricade before focusing on Sam’s body clinically. “Cold, it looks like he jumped through as the Bridge was losing connection. His metrics are fantastically poor but not outside of his normal per the reports that First Aid forwarded over. Annnnnnd a dislocated shoulder from where boulder brains caught him. Better than ending up as a skid mark across the Bridge Room I suppose, but I'm going to need to set that pretty quick before the swelling sets in.” The mech, Knock Out concluded, running the tip of his thumb on Sam's cheek. “But don't you worry, little guy, ol’ Dr. Knock Out will fix you ri~ight up.”

Sam wanted First Aid but as suddenly as that thought occurred he realized that he couldn't feel his Guardian. “Where's First Aid?” He slurred through a numb tongue.

Knock Out looked mildly offended. “I can assure you that whatever that school nurse can do I can do infinitely better.” The mech declared. 

Sam ignored Knock Out in favor of Barricade, who had shown that he cared about Sam at least a little bit. “I can't feel him. I think I'm hurt.” He explained, afraid to not have the persistent point of comfort just a thought away.

Barricade gave the medic a look but bent over Sam, presence insulating and warm and Sam could kind of see Frenzy's head poking out of the mechs torso where he kept a little hidey hole, in mech form for once, blue optics clearly concerned. “He’s on the other side of the gate. We have to reinitialize and bridge again, which can take a little while after a bridge collapse. He’ll be here shortly. We are getting communications from the Jasper site - what were you thinking ?” The black scout demanded though his support never wavered.

Sam, completely distracted by his experience and the pain, took a second to focus on Barricade's words. “I saw Nova Prime. In the gate.” 

The room went silent for a second as every optic turned to look at Sam in bewilderment. 

Except for Knock Out. “Okay there, little spark, I think that's quite enough television for you today. Come, come, off to the medical ward with us and I'll even give you a loli if you're good and don't pee on me.” He said dismissively and turned from the Bridge room and began walking on delicate peds down a brightly lit and expansive hallway. 

Barricade, thank God, didn't leave him with the madman…madmech? and after a step was on Knock Outs heels. Literally if the clicking was anything to go by.

Knock Out fussed with Sam. “Well, other than looking like Jack Frost gave you a good cuddle, you don't seem much the worse for wear for your little adventure. Once we get that arm set we'll get you in a medical berth until your Guardian comes here to collect you. He's going to be a right treat when he finds out the mischief you managed* while out of his sight.” The sassy medic stated in a combination of condescension and the talk one has with a misbehaving puppy.

“I am a sentient life form, I know he's going to be pissed.” Sam grunted, now that the excitement had worn off the pain had begun to set in and with it his regret at a great many things that had transpired that morning. “Ooooow.”

Barricade opened his intake to say something but a sharp prick in Sam's shoulder, the one that didn't hurt, caused him to cry out and flail since the other arm wouldn't respond.

“Warn him!” Barricade growled, almost shoving Knock Out before pulling back from Sam being in the mech's hold. “He's not a toy , Knock Out.”

The medic raised a brow ridge with a perfect patronizing stare. “I am aware, Barricade. But he's clearly in pain and research has illustrated that humans respond best to pain by not expecting it. It was only a pain reducing agent, anyway, the boy will feel much better in but a moment.” Knock Out sniffed disdainfully. “I might have wanted to be sent to a more civilized post but I am perfectly capable of functioning in even this backwater one.” 

Sam could feel Barricade's ire through the intertwining of their fields and pressed Barricade to let it go. “I think it's working already.” He slurred, trying to seem optimistic.

Barricade backed off a meter but Frenzy had only refrained from leaping onto Knock Out because it would have distracted from Sam’s perceived care.

“See? Another satisfied customer!” The medic grinned and while Sam wouldn't necessarily agree with that assessment he wasn't about to disagree with someone who was holding him 18 feet above the ground either. 

Sam lost time, either from the drugs or shock, and only shook himself awake when they arrived in what had to be the medical bay. It wasn't broken up into a human side and a mech side like Jasper was, it was entirely Cybertronian in make and design with space age angles and future aesthetic everywhere. Most things were at least 15 feet above the ground for the Cybertronians ease of access, though, and Sam could see that though there wasn’t a human section there was a couple of human sized medical berths, cybertronian style ones, on a larger berth to one side. 

“Alright, sweet spark, I'm going to set you down on this little berth here.” Knock Out said as he drew one away from its brethren. “Is it alright if I give you a mild muscle relaxer to ease the closed reduction to fix your dislocated shoulder?” Knock Out asked and though he was merely mocking Barricade, Sam nodded gratefully anyway.

He'd had his shoulders set before in both worlds and while on this Earth he'd gotten stuck with a junior doctor who had treated him like a Stretch Armstrong*, he remembered how much it normally hurt from his other experiences, even Ratchet, and was not eager to not be drugged for that experience. “Yes please. That shoulder is gonna give you a little trouble on the pop, it got kind of screwed up when I was a kid.” He said loosely as his mouth started tasting weird. “Was that Oxy?”

The medic had nodded thoughtfully before lifting a brow at his last comment. “Well aren't you a clever little thing. It was. How did you know?”

“Oxy makes my mouth taste funny.” He offered as he was set on the small medical berth gently and blinked in surprise when a dark haired holoform with pale, pale blue eyes appeared in a lab coat, a leather jacket and jeans appeared in front of him. 

Sam raised his good arm to the man, “‘Aid gave me a port, so you don't gotta stab me.” He said, knowing that Knock Out had been aware from his scans but had elected to ignore the thing to stab Sam anyway. 

Knock Out, clever mech, understood what Sam didn't say and carefully helped him out of the parka he was still in and then rolled up the yellow sleeve of his hoody. “So he has.”

By this point Frenzy had slithered down Barricade and lept to the large medical berth and was standing next to Sam’s, only held back from jumping up by a chastisement from the big black mech loud enough for Sam to feel it too. Frenzy, though, was watching everything that Knock Out was doing with narrowed blue optics and didn't look like he liked the cut of the medics jib* but couldn't say anything while Knock Out was acting so perfectly professional. 

Despite the audience, Knock Out looked amused as he produced a syringe of fluid, “Muscle relaxant. That, with the Oxy, and the morning you've had will likely put you right to sleep if the insertion doesn't cause you to faint first.” He explained sweetly and Sam grimaced even as Knock Out inserted the syringe into his port and depressed the plunger. 

It must have been super fast acting, or Sam was just super fucked up, because in short order he didn't really feel much of anything but exhaustion and listed to the side as Knock Out and Barricade (when had Barricade's holoform appeared?) held him vertical before Knock Out took his loose arm and after carefully straightening it gave the whole limb a solid twist and push and after a moment Sam felt the joint reconnect as stars danced the cha cha in front of his eyes. 

“Ow.” He muttered, though he didn't really feel how painful it was with how steeped in medical juices he was. Knock Out had seriously tried to knock him out with meds, Sam was vaguely aware, as the medic pulled out an arm brace from somewhere and with Barricade's help got Sam’s arm immobilized in the sling. 

Knock Out grinned down at Sam, “Did that really hurt, pet?” He asked, knowingly. 

Sam frowned, smacking his lips, brain drifting like flotsam elsewhere. “No. I don't think so. Maybe? My body feels…huh.” 

Barricade glared at Knock Out. “Was that really necessary?”

Knock Out splayed his holoforms hand on his chest, the mech already gone off to do something else in the bay. “ I was just trying to ease the poor child's pain.” He said theatrically. “Look at him, a waif; I couldn't bear to see him in pain any longer than I had to.”

Sam grinned, “You were worried I was gunna pee on you, from pain.” He chuckled to himself drunkenly.

Pausing, Knock Out conceded. “That too.” He considered Sam and Sam felt the tingles of another scan. “You're blood sugar levels are dipping - almost 50 milligrams per deciliter. That school nurse at least got something right.” He conceded with a frown. “And dropping.” 

“First Aid gives him glucose packets to stabilize, ‘Rally packs’ to improve.” Barricade explained.

Only for the medic to roll his eyes at him impatiently. “Yes, I did receive the ‘care and feeding’ instructions. Let me see where Darling set the packs.” He muttered, about to turn away.

Frenzy, finally helpful, dropped about half a dozen of the little suckers onto the medical berth next to Sam's hip. “I have some.” He offered needlessly. 

Sam smiled and reached over with his hand to pet Frenzy's head. “Awwww, thank you Frenzy!” He giggled, leaning back into Barricade. “Frenzy's great, didja know? He likes me.” He chortled into the otherwise pretty fierce looking holoforms throat, ignoring the disgruntled noise from the little Cassette who pointedly did not move away from his hand.

For his part, Barricade nodded and short burst a ‘::Should we lay him down::?’ to Knock Out who sent a [confirmation] and in short order Barricade reoriented Sam to recline on the berth as Frenzy opened a glucose pack, grabbed Sam's hand from his helm and shoved the pack into it. 

“Okay Sam, we're just going to lay you down, cool?” Barricade confirmed with Sam who nodded happily, sucking down the thick sugar. 

Sam didn't really mind the taste, nor did he complain as Frenzy, who was particularly petite, climbed up onto the bed but stayed at the foot of it at Barricades look. Knock Out, amused but also aware that he'd be reprimanded for not doing so, grabbed a rally pack and inserted the IV line into Sam's port before hanging it up on an extendable IV bag holder. 

Sam blinked up at Knock Out, who was hovering above his shoulder and smiled. “Thank you, Knock Out.” And sent [appreciation] to the mech. Barricade nipped Frenzy's response in the bud before he could do something like point out that Knock Out was in the process of knocking him out or that Sam’s control for his ::communion:: was still shit. Sam blearily looked around before frowning, “Barricade? Can you tell First Aid I'm sorry? I think I freaked out.”

Frenzy rolled his optics, the chatter on the radio which Sam couldn't hear behind the residual Guardian locks abuzz with how accurate that statement was. In another hour the lock would start giving way and if they hadn't arrived by then Sam was going to find out just how upset everyone was. Well, honestly, he was going to one way or another.

Barricade hummed, running his hand through Sam's floppy hair as the human leaned into his touch. “You can tell him yourself shortly - they’ve finished reinitializing the gate and are coming through in a little bit.” 

Sam frowned, confused for a second, before remembering. “Did they see Nova Prime?” He asked.

Barricade snorted, “I doubt it, but we can ask them.” He said gently and Sam nodded. 

After a moment Sam frowned, “Will’s gonna be so mad at me.” He said, remembering the last time he done fucked up and did something pretty stupid and how mad Will had gotten at him for splitting the party* when they'd had to evacuate the valley.

Frenzy snickered, “Oooooh yeah.” 

Barricade huffed, “Yeah, you did jump through a gate into an unstable Ground Bridge while having a panic attack - he's probably going to fit you with one of those child leashes and he and First Aid'll pass holding it back and forth.” He joked.

Sam scrunched his nose. “My parents did that.” He muttered unhappily.

Barricade paused for a moment, optics and eyes surprised, before frowning with a thoughtful look. “That actually explains a lot.”

“Heeeeyyyyyy.” Sam whined before Barricade put his holoforms palm over his eyes.

“Close your eyes for a minute: you've had a shock and need to rest.” He directed and Sam grumbled but that actually seemed like a fantastic idea.

Muzzily, he finished his glucose pack and set it down. “Stay?”

If there was an emotion for soft, Cade didn't feel it and definitely didn't share it with Sam at that. “Yeah, ::sweet spark::, I'll stay. You've got my hand, doncha?”

Sam giggled, “Uh-huh, I do.” Almost victoriously because he hadn't thought of that and continued to chuckle till his breathing evened out.

“You, mister, are in so much trouble.” Will grumbled at Sam what felt like only a second later.

Sam scrunched up his nose. “I think I saw Nova Prime.” He stated.

From the foot of the bed, “Sam had a hallucination.” A certain small Cassette explained in a stage whisper.

“I didn't. Maybe. But it seemed real?” Sam muttered as he pried his eyes open to see Will, Epps, and First Aid immediately in front of him and a smaller contingent of bots that he could make out behind them towards the entrance to the medical bay. Their presence reminded him what he had done and he shrank a little bit, good hand worrying the hoody string nervously with his fingers. “I done fucked up, didn't I?”

While First Aid felt more remote behind their bond, Will’s expression let Sam know exactly where the General stood emotionally. Epps’ face was thoughtful and Sam raised his good hand to rub his eyes. 

Will’s anger melted a little as he looked Sam over and sighed, rubbing his face with both hands before stepping towards the head of Sam’s bed to get a better look at Sam’s face. “Yeah, Sam. You done fucked up. I am just so glad you’re here for me to be furious with. You could have been hurt badly, maimed, killed even. Bridges are incredibly dangerous things, and you just tap danced like Fred Astair* through one that was beginning to fail.”

Sam was not complaining as he felt First Aid's scans, multiple, and Will's hand on his crown. “For what it's worth - I knew it was a bad idea after I did it.” 

“Not the order of operations we hope for, kiddo.” Will sighed, “You okay?”

Sam grunted, “Fine.” 

First Aid made a different assessment. “Dislocated shoulder and severe bruising.” He corrected. “You impacted something at a speed faster than how fast you can run.”

“The Bridge destabilized as soon as Sam crossed the gate’s event horizon. He came through at almost 30 miles an hour. Bulkhead caught him or we might be having a very different conversation right now.” Knock Out ratted him out from across the bay and Sam wondered if faking a seizure would be worth it to get out of this conversation.

In Sam's opinion, all options were wide open at this point.

“I need to speak with Sam alone, please.” First Aid said quietly but for all that it wasn't loud there was something more definitive for it and Sam mentally cringed before Will ran his hand over his head in comfort but whether it was more for Will or Sam was debatable before departing, Will getting a hand down from Barricade.

Wincing, Sam almost hated this more than being castigated as a group, and waved weakly as the room cleared but for Knock Out, but he at least maintained the illusion of working to give them some privacy. 

Not that it really worked, Sam was aware of Knock Out's habit of schadenfreude. 

“Sam?” First Aid requested his attention, which Sam reluctantly and, if he was honest with himself, kind of shamefully gave, the mech intentionally not calling his holoform as he leaned down to speak with the small Spark Touched. “What you did today was both unnecessary and incredibly dangerous.” First Aid informed him with a look that made Sam feel five inches tall rather than five foot five. 

Sam’s throat swelled a little tightly. “Yeah. Yeah, I did.” He admitted, because he had and he felt like an idiot for doing so. “I…don't have a good excuse. I don't even really have a good reason. I just…freaked out. I don't know why.” He deflected.

Instead of getting loud and upset, which Sam was used to (thanks Mom and Dad), First Aid's quiet was more intense and caused the still kind of drunk Sam to fidget when the explosion didn't come. First Aid was supposed to explode, wasn't he? That's what people did when Sam fucked up. They got mad, they got loud, sometimes they hit him and sometimes they took things away till he was a good boy again.

“Sam, I want you to tell me about the voice, please.”

Oh no. Sam's insides, even with the meds on board, turned into an ice block and he jerked his whisky browns up at the mech's electric blue. “The voice.” Sam repeated weakly.

First Aid though didn't repeat himself and just stared at Sam until Sam couldn't stand it and looked away. “I dunno what you want me to say. They just…they say stuff. Tell me to do things. Warns me, sometimes. It's not…super helpful - most of the time.” Sam said, worrying at the fabric string of his hoodie, frowning.

First Aid was quiet for a time before nodding. “And the voice has been with you since…?” He questioned leading. 

Sam tugged on his hoodie string, needing something to externalize his anxiety because talking about it was making him increasingly anxious and agitated, like he wasn't supposed to talk about it. He wasn't, was he? Talking about it got him on weird meds and therapy that didn't help. But…First Aid and Glit had said there was something going on, right? “Is it real?” He asked instead. “Like, real real? Not just like, a ghost in the shell* or like--” 

The nudge shut Sam up, but it wasn't angry. Just a small correction to keep him from wandering off the topic that they were talking about. “Sam, tell me about when the voice appeared.” First Aid repeated.

Looking away, Sam tugged on the string more. “It…it started when I got here. Kind of? It…it wasn't a voice at first, like words, so much as intrusive thoughts. Not like, you know, ‘kill yourself’ or something.” He said defensively because he wasn't suicidal, he wasn't, he was just…he was tired. And sometimes when he was super tired death didn't seem so bad. Not when everyone he knew and loved was gone or never arrived. But it was different now, okay? The Autobots were real. Kind of. The Cybertronians were real if he wasn't hallucinating this whole thing, they were. “But then it started saying stuff.”

Nodding, First Aid dipped his helm in invitation to continue. “What did it start saying?”

Sam looked anywhere but First Aid, fingers tugging right on the hoodie cord knot. “I didn't really get it at first. It's mostly directions. Like, go to a place or grab a thing. It's not like when I built the nullifiers though - that was…different.” He finished, feeling like an idiot. “I know I shouldn’t listen but it's…”

“Compelling.” First Aid finished. “And it's been talking to you for days.” He said, no judgment, but in a pointed way like he'd figured it out and was disappointed that Sam hadn't voluntarily offered the information in the first place. 

“I was…” ‘going to tell you’ but that wasn't right, was it? Will knew something was up because Will was there when Sam had received the warning about Swindle the day(?) before, and he hadn't just ignored it like what would have been convenient for the plot of Sam's life to do so. No, Will had noticed and was going to make Sam tell him. 

Like First Aid was. 

“I don't like this. I want to stop talking about it.” Sam said petulantly. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. Can we just…can't you just be mad at me and I can be sorry and we can not do this?” He begged tightly. It was easier when people were angry or disappointed because he was so used to that reaction. Can’t disappoint people if you’re always letting them down.

Instead of capitulating, though, or being exasperated and throwing his hands up, First Aid folded his servos together. “How would that help you?”

A handbrake turn at 100mph would have rocked Sam less - he should know, Cliffjumper had pulled that maneuver on him multiple times at this point. “What?”

The medic calmly regarded him. “Sam, I am not angry with you. What you did today was dangerous, but as you stated, you aren't sure why you did what you did and we are both incredibly aware that there is more going on under your hood than a mere miscalibration of chemicals or electrical signals. Punishing you has doubtlessly been a strategy to attempt to curb said behavior, but all that's done is made you scared and dishonest to avoid the consequences for something that is out of your control.” He explained quietly. “I can't be mad at you for being dishonest with me because you aren't even capable of being honest to yourself. I am not here to scare you, Sam. I am here to help and support you while you navigate a clearly very complicated and difficult experience that you are having. Lennox, in his way, is equally as concerned but can't detach from the emotions he experienced today to look at the facts objectively. I can't, truly, as well because I was scared for you, but I don't view you as responsible for them either.”

Not sure what to say, Sam stared at the medic, his Guardian, and almost wanted to be angry. It was…illogical, to be angry, but it was…

No one had ever not blamed him, at least partially, for being so goddamn crazy and acting unsensible. Even his parents couldn't understand that he also didn't want to be doing the things he was doing*, and naturally that meant he was some kind of failure for not being able to overcome it, work through it, use the Witwicky resiliency to get over it.

“I don't want to be like this.” Sam said, eyes blurring as he wiped at them. “They were, they were quiet when I was home. I didn't hear them and now that I'm not home they're back and I don't even understand where I'm supposed to go? What I’m supposed to do? They just said ‘go south’ and before it was ‘go east’ and not like, a fucking address or something and then I can't even do that right and then I fuck up so bad and get in so much trouble.” He whined. “First Aid, I'm getting crazier. I don't know what to do anymore.” He cried.

The arms that wrapped around him were warm and solid and Sam leaned into them, cursing that he only had one arm to hold First Aid's holoform with. “I'm sorry!” He wailed but he wasn't even sure what he was sorry for.

First Aid wrapped his mind in the same comfort that his arms offered and let Sam cry himself out into his shoulder. 

Sam was considering the merits of a First Aid pillow when the ‘bot pressed the holoform's cheek to his temple. “There is a voice, Sam, it's not just in your head.” The medic explained quietly. “It's not a signature that Glit, Fixit, Knock Out nor I have encountered before. I've sent what we have to Ratchet, but I don't think what we're dealing with is entirely a medical phenomenon.” He explained into Sam's hair. 

Sam felt a knot in his soul slowly given slack at the medics statement. “Really?” 

The hand on his back began to rub gentle circles there. “We don't know what it is, but it was discordant with your natural harmony. Out of place, out of tune. Everything in your body right now is very delicately balanced and it was causing far flung issues. I had hoped giving you space would give you an opportunity to rebalance but it didn't. For that I am sorry for failing you, you placed your trust in me and I focused on your ability to self-correct when you can't be expected to right now.”

Nuzzling close, Sam huffed. “First Aid, no one could expect you to deal with all of this.” He sighed. “I just…I don't know what they want. I just…I just want it to stop. I forgot how awful all of this was.” He whispered.

The repetitive stroking across his back and fields was nice though. “I know, Sam. I did not wish this for you.”

“I can't promise I won't do something again.” Sam murmured, cradled in a nice place after so long not. “I don't know what I'm going to do.” He finally admitted himself.

Humming in acknowledgement, the medic continued to rub his back soothingly. “I can't fix what's going on right now, though I wish I could. I think the most prudent course of action is giving you the tools to communicate what's going on to those around you without judgment. Have you ever heard of a ‘safe word’?” The holoform asked.

Frowning, Sam made a confused noise into his Guardian’s clavicle. “Like, the sex thing?”

First Aid chuckled, “That is an application, but it's used in a wide variety of scenarios as a method for someone to communicate status when they can’t communicate specificity. I think we should consider a simple system to assist you right now until we can get a handle on things. There's a thematically appropriate one called the ‘traffic’* system: green is good, yellow is caution, red is stop, and I’d suggest black as an additional one for when you are not in control and someone needs to take control.” 

Sam considered that. “Would it just be with you?” He asked quietly.

The petting continued. “If you want it to be, but I think it would be better if those like General Lennox and Cliffjumper, those in your support structure, were aware and able to utilize the terms with you. It would also help reinforce the habit so it’s second nature rather than something you have to think about every time.” The medic explained reasonably. “You have a network of people who want to help and support you and we’re figuring out the tools together.”

Sam thought tiredly about it and what that would have looked like earlier during his episode. “People are going to think I’m weird.” He muttered unhappily.

Chuckling, First Aid tightened his hold for a moment, “Sam, you’re never going to be ‘normal’, but those who think less of you for it wouldn’t be the people that you need in your life anyway.”

That, at least, was probably true.

Chapter Text

Sam’s first few days in Diego Garcia, other than his entrance, were otherwise pretty uneventful - which he was a-ok with. The voice had gone silent, thank god, which left Sam the opportunity to sleep.

Which he did. Practically everywhere and anywhere he was allowed to be stationary for any amount of time he’d find a way to fall asleep there. It got to be a little bit of a running gag that ‘Grandpa Sam’ was napping whenever someone asked after him. After his disastrous arrival to Diego Garcia with his injuries and exhaustion, First Aid had drawn his line in the sand and Sam had ended up sequestered in first the medical bay and later Will’s apartment with an extremely restricted visitors list. The medical bay, while public, was ruled with an iron fist between the combined forces of First Aid, Glit, Knock Out and ‘Darling’, otherwise known as Remedy*.

Remedy was an ancient mini-con who, though she seemed the less imposing of the permanent Diego Garcia medical staff, was in fact more feared than even Knock Out. Was feared by Knock Out. Sam knew her but between the meds and the exhaustion he couldn’t remember exactly why that was till she’d caught a surprisingly sneaky Bulkhead snooping at the medical bay door and through a campaign of terror managed to get the giant into a medical berth while she addressed some ‘long overdue maintenance’ that found her literally climbing inside the wrecker’s chassis to address said 'issues' while the mech had bleated out vernacular that Sam was pretty sure wasn’t even Cybertronian. Bulkhead wasn’t the last to be punished for the sin of curiosity either during Sam’s short stint in the medical bay.

Remedy joked as she supplied him with second breakfast (Will had laughed that Sam was now on the ‘Hobbit Diet Plan’ when he’d sat with Sam after he’d woken up from First Aid and his discussion about safe words) that Sam was really helping her out by drawing her hard to catch but incredibly curious backlog of patients to the medical bay so she didn’t have to literally go hunt them down. 

That she had deliberately chosen an oversize BB8 as her alt-form had endeared her to Sam immediately, because the thought of a small wrecking ball sized rolling droid chasing some of the fiercest warriors the galaxy had ever produced with a small plasma torch had had him laughing so hard his ribs had ached.

Sam wouldn’t say that he minded the food except that while like his mother the consensus was that food was the most important medicine of all for Sam right now, that meant that while he was eating well, he was eating…well…food designed by people who had never had to eat before. The increase in overall food after so long on limited food also necessitated the smaller, blander meals so as not to shock Sam’s systems any more than they had already been rocked with the introduction of Cybertronians into his life. This meant that even when Sam wanted to eat he didn't want to eat what was on offer.

By the third day Sam was eager enough to be out of the medbay that he hadn’t cared that it was just a transfer to Will’s apartment because for all that it wasn't real privacy he’d at least be given the illusion of some because at this point? He hadn’t used the toilet without someone keeping an eye on him for nearly two weeks and for someone who had spent decades alone it was a lot. The amount of attention made him itchy. Sam had thought that the whole hullabaloo around his appearance had been blown particularly widely out of proportion for what it should/could have been, he hadn’t thought about the reality of what that looked like on Diego Garcia.

Which turned out to be its own whole thing.

By the time that Sam was feeling up to actually seeing Diego Garcia about a week had elapsed and he’d been awake for barely any of it, which was what the doctor ordered.

First Aid looked him over as Sam sat wedged into the corner of Will’s couch, pleased for once by what his scanners were telling him. “Well, it seems like your energy depletion is finally evening out.” He hummed, “The food combined with your reduced energy output has finally put you in a caloric surplus.” He smiled. “First I’ve seen.”

Sam, who had spent his ‘week off’ emulating a couch potato, yawned up at the medic. Will’s apartment, like Epps’ further down the hall, felt like a converted garage in a lot of ways. The door to the main hallway was a Cybertronian sized roller door with a human sized door embedded into it that Sam had been amused and intrigued by but could see the wisdom in the cleverness of it. It led into a double height space that all but the tallest bots could stand in with only minor issues. The back of the unit had a second floor with a sleeping loft that was about the most exercise he’d had over the last few days climbing up and down with a well outfitted but completely unused kitchen and dining room below. The living room with it’s large leather sectional and massive television were the only things outside of the bed and bathroom that saw any kind of regular use, primarily from Sam himself.

The space had clearly been designed with Cybertronians in mind but had been retrofitted for humans which was a departure from what Sam was used to. It was better than trying to fit a Cybertronian into a human garage for sure.

“That mean I can break out of this joint?” Sam asked cheekily. Now that he’d been in seclusion in the secure part of the base for a few days he was itching to see what the rest of it looked like. It wasn’t home, not by a long shot, but it felt safe in it’s own way and like his mother had said whenever he found himself in a new treatment program or facility, ‘Home is where you lay your head at night’. He’d hinted at looking around over the last few checkups, but maybe First Aid’s good mood would finally get him out of looking at pale walls and a TV that illustrated that no matter how far they’d come the universal constant that there was never anything on still rang true as a bell. His brain was too tired to read and he considered that a true tragedy because the back wall of Will's apartment had books he'd never seen before but he couldn't stay awake long enough to get through the first page of the ones he'd grabbed.

Giving the Spark Touched an amused look specifically because though Sam said he was raring to go, he was still in a pair of Will’s pajamas, his own yellow hoodie, his arm sling and was basically cocooned in a pile of every blanket that he could beg, borrow, and steal over the course of the last few days. Frenzy had primarily been the blanket thief if the grumbling from Epps, who tended to come in with Will after a day ‘at the office’ to have second dinner with Sam, were to be believed. 

Sam was aware that the others had jokingly begun to refer to it as his ‘nest’, but when he dozed off at the drop of a hat being on the same level as the bathroom with his overactive bladder, thanks renal disease, was incredibly important.

Blinking his eyes open wide to illustrate his awake-ness, Sam wasn’t ashamed to say he used what little he had of the ‘puppy eyes’ on his Guardian.

Instead of giving in to the frankly absurd and amusing attempts by his ward, First Aid merely reached down and adjusted the blankets around Sam before delicately running a digit over his crown. “We will, but I believe that Will and Epps were actually planning on giving you ‘the Grand Tour’. And then we will debrief about your arrival. With the delegation arriving at the end of the week we are cutting it closer than I’d have hoped but as needs must.” He sighed. “Now, are you done with your meal?”

The meal in question, first lunch, was half a sandwich and a 3/4ths cup of soup from the Mess and had been fine. Far better than the med bays offerings for sure though. Sam was on some variant of the BRAT* diet that removed all things with flavor from his options but he had to admit that not being hungry was a fair trade off, it's not like his normal food had been particularly tasty either.

If anything, Frenzy was more upset by this turn of events than Sam was and made his opinion known for the couple hours a day he was permitted to visit around second dinner time, usually with a blanket he'd swiped from somewhere. He, of all of the rest of the bots, had been the only one let through because after the third break in in an hour they realized that there was no way to keep Frenzy out of the little fragger wanted in. 

Sam could have told them that. He might have, the pain meds that first day had been pretty impressive. 

Nodding, Sam gathered the few bits of detritus that always seemed to gather whenever one sits down for a while and tucked trash within trash. “Yeah. Thanks for bringing it and hanging out with me.”

That it was to make sure that Sam stayed awake long enough to actually finish went unsaid. The draw on his energy from healing was great in that he was healing much faster, the sling would likely no longer be necessary at the end of the week rather than 6 weeks after injury, but also great in how much energy it was using. 

Running the sensation of [affection] and [support] along Sam’s sleepy fields, First Aid’s holoform appeared in the kitchen to collect a couple of the Weight Gainer shakes that had suddenly become ubiquitous in Sam’s life. “Of course. I can’t stay much longer I’m afraid, I’m expected in surgery in about 20 minutes but I just wanted to check in on you. Need anything else?”

Yawning, Sam shook his head. “I think I’m gonna nap some more.” Sam admitted, shifting to find the bed pillow that he dragged around with him. Will had looked at him funny when he saw Sam doing it for the first time but Sam had just shrugged and said he slept better with it*.

[Amusement][affection][cute] flowed over his fields as First Aid’s holoform helped arrange Sam appropriately as he still had difficulty moving with one arm and a bruising pattern that was healing but not healed yet. “Okay. Do you want me to turn on something for background noise?” Being in a windowless and nearly silent room, even with the care that had gone into trying to make it seem like the room wasn’t functionally a nuclear shelter, was…well, it was a strong contender for why Sam wanted out of the room, that’s for sure. It was eerie. 

Sam nodded, “Yes please. I had a nature thing on this mor---er, earlier.” He frowned, trying to remember if it had been that morning? His little clock data stream let him know that it was currently 12:13 PM local time, but he hadn’t been paying attention to time after Will had climbed out of bed at 5:30 AM to begin his day like he usually did, shifting Sam to wrap around a pillow instead of himself.

It should have been awkward but it was…nice. Curling up with Will was different than curling up with Frenzy, which was also nice, but with Will it was almost like someone had found the frequency for tranquility and when Will was curled up with him he got to experience it. 

Will had admitted that he felt something similar, but that he was a bit more inured to it from his year’s living in Epps’ back pocket, though the sensation was greater with Sam. The few times that Epps had touched Sam he'd noticed the same thing.

Epps was the only other human permitted into Will's apartment. Sam wouldn't be introduced to the other Spark Touched until First Aid gave the say so to let Sam acclimate in peace. Sam had been acclimating as well as a couch potato could, he guessed.

“Okay. Have you asked Jenna to set an alarm for you?” First Aid asked with a knowing look and Sam scrunched his nose up a little at that. Jenna was the AI that came with Will’s suite and though Sam was aware of the AI he was…not enthused by her. When he was a kid there’d been a lot of Sci-fi about future tech that he’d been amazed about and though there were a lot of advancements in the greater world, he didn’t really trust or really understand them. Or need them. He had a remote. He could remote. It was the earliest skill he’d mastered and though the remote came with a touch screen now he didn’t think that he needed to ask basically a widget to turn stuff on for him.

Seeing his stubborn look First Aid gave him a slightly exasperated one of his own before nature sounds, specifically Pacific Northwest sounds, came through the integrated sound system around Sam and First Aid’s holoform leaned down to run his hand through Sam’s hair and press his mouth there before dissolving and the larger mech taking his leave, dimming the lights to only the ones under the cabinets in the kitchen. 

“Sleep well, Sam. Let me know if you need anything.” The Guardian said in parting before the door slid closed behind him.

Left in the quiet twilight of Will apartment, Sam adjusted again before closing his eyes and yawning. The first time First Aid had…well, given his a kiss goodnight, Sam had been…

Confused.

But the mech had been pretty perfunctory about the act and Sam thought maybe the mech had looked up how to raise human children and seen that forehead kisses were acceptable between parents and kids and…well, Sam wasn’t upset about it. His own parents hadn’t been particularly affectionate, and he’d hated it when his mom would kiss his forehead when he’d actually been a kid, but it wasn’t so bad now. Now that he knew what he was missing.

It was a while later when someone gently lifting the blankets from Sam’s side alerted him of a new presence but he didn’t even need to open up his eyes to figure out who it was.

“You’re here early.” He grunted, adjusting so Frenzy could essentially slither into the space next to him, shifting until his holoform was perfectly placed to snuggle with Sam and still have his hands free to play his console game. “You’re not gonna tattle on me.” Frenzy explained confidently. “Besides! I got you something.”

The something ended up being a small bag of ‘Swad Digestive Drops’. Sam looked the silver bag over curiously before handing it back to the Cassette he couldn’t open the bag with how he was laying and with only one arm. “What’re these ones?”

Frenzy popped the bag open, then dexterously grabbed one of the individually wrapped candies within, tearing the top off and handing it to Sam. “Commander Singh said they’re good. Something from India.” Which meant that Frenzy had liberated these from somewhere because from what Sam understood the shop in town was mostly stuff from the States. 

Frenzy had shown by this point a complete disregard for anyone’s property but his own and it took a little noodling by Sam, difficult to do since his brain felt like mush when he wasn’t sleeping 80% of the time, that that kind of made sense. When he’d been just a Cassette he’d wanted for nothing as first a much spoiled sparkling and then later as a member of the higher Castes. When the war had broken out, there wasn’t really a reason to respect other people’s property either because it was war and you took every advantage that you could during it to survive, including screwing over anyone who got in your way. From the little bits and side comments that Frenzy shared he’d gotten very good at ‘acquiring’ things over the years under the direction of Soundwave and other commanding officers because, to quote, ‘No one can keep me out when I want in’. 

Which, fair point, keeping Frenzy was pretty much impossible to do in any universe. 

In the half light, Sam looked the candy over in it’s pink packaging and hummed before licking it. Sometimes Indian food could be scary spicy but the faint sweet flavor made Sam less concerned, popping the candy into his mouth and leaning his head back. 

Sweet but tingly. 

It wasn’t an extreme flavor, but Sam had gotten better with flavor communion over the last few days so he didn’t need it to be particularly strong in order to share the sensation with Frenzy, which was why there was a cabinet in the kitchen that was filled with snacks now. 

Frenzy’s little holographic toes spread at the sensation, “That’s weird.” He said, in a tone of voice that said he wasn’t sure if he liked it. 

“It’s got digestive on the packaging - that usually means that it’s medicinal or has herbs in it that are supposed to help for an upset stomach.” Sam said as dexterously as he could around hard candy in his mouth. “If you’re not sure you like this, avoid bringing me mint. The human brain registers it as ‘cooling’ and gives way worse feedback than these.” He advised sleepily, closing his eyes again. 

Frenzy made a humming sound, nestling his head into Sam’s boney shoulder before pulling out his game. “Barricade and Epps say you’re coming out of quarantine soon. That you can come and see me and Rumble's room when you do.” He said in a ‘not interested’ but very pointed way.

Sam hummed, “‘Aid said I had to wait till Will said I could, that he wanted to show me around Diego Garcia.” He yawned. “I’ve seen some of it, on Google Earth, when I was a kid. It looks cool.”

Frenzy chuckled, “I mean, for a cast off it’s okay. The amount of sodium chloride in the air keeps the base scrubbers working overtime to make sure it doesn’t get gross and dank.” He grumbled. “I don’t see why they didn’t give us some place in Nevada, it’s not like they’re using it all and we spend so much time in the area too that it’s just stupid that we’re out here.” The little mech added before switching games.

Chuckling, Sam pulled Frenzy closer for a second. “America, the United States portion of it anyway, is pretty territorial. I guess it’s nice that they gave you Diego Garcia but even with being friendly there’s a difference between being friendly and too friendly.” He frowned, “Are most of the human personnel American?”

Frenzy shrugged, “Statistically they are the biggest group with the most logistical support, but no. Most of Europe, lot of Asia, a couple of countries in Africa and some from South America. They don’t want to lose out on ‘super advanced alien robot’ technology so there’s a bunch of spies all over the island trying to get their grubby little hands on anything useful.” He huffed. “I’m just glad we only had the one dude from Latvaria* before he got caught trying to take off an integrated power cell.” 

Sam’s eyebrows rose even if his eyes didn’t open, “Wow.” 

Frenzy nodded, “That’s why you can’t just wander around, in order to get anywhere you need security clearance and I think there’s still some discussion about where yours is. Since, you know, you need some but yours is…complicated. Not like the other Spark Touched. Like, they do stuff and have security clearances but you’re a seer, so they aren’t sure what to do with you.”

“Broken Tivo.” Sam corrected and grunted when Frenzy elbowed his gut. “Ow.”

The Cassette huffed, “::Seer::. It’s not like anyone else around here has any idea what ‘The First Golden Age of Cybertron’ even is.” Frenzy huffed, “It’s not in Soundwaves data banks even.”

Sam grunted but didn’t argue. Arguing with Frenzy when you didn’t specifically want him to do anything was useless and arguing with him if you did was only slightly less so. It was also almost 5 PM local time so Will and Epps’d be by in a bit and he wanted to be as rested as possible when they arrived so they might take him out to show him around. 

He must have dozed off because the next thing he was aware of was Will coming through the door with trays of food being carried by one of the mess bots (which he'd started referring to as 'BotBerts'), a non-sentient one, since Will had his hands full with office stuff.

“Hey Sam.” He smiled at Sam’s big just woken up eyes before narrowing his own down at Frenzy who was still gaming in Sam’s arms. “Hey, we had a deal - no unsupervised visits until Sam is feeling better.” The man said, setting down the various items he had accumulated on a chair specifically for that purpose by the door. 

Frenzy waved him off, “He is feeling better. Epps said you guys were going to take Sam around, you don’t do that unless someone’s feeling better.” He argued, and Sam could see the will to live leaving Will’s eyes as he realized that Frenzy had found a bone and he wasn’t going to let it go. 

Sam, awake but woozy, flapped his free arm in it’s brace at Will like a chicken wing. It was a little painful, but not too bad. “Hi Will.”

Unburdened, Will sighed before walking around the back of the couch and running his hand over Sam’s head on the way to the kitchen, the little BotBert following dutifully behind him. “Do anything today?”

Sam shook his head, “Not really. Apparently it’s the first day I’ve had a calorie surplus in a while.” He reported, pleased.

Will pulled a beer from the fridge, the only thing of Will’s in there now that it was filled with dietitian specified food for Sam. “Well I’ll be, that’s great.” He said, before tipping his head at the weight gain shakes on the coffee table that Sam had not set an alarm with Jenna to take, “You had one of those since First Aid swung by?”

Frowning, Sam sighed and shook his head. “Napping.” He admitted before making movement to sit up, which Frenzy grumbled about but let him up reluctantly, pocketing the game console to help Sam with surprisingly competent hands until Sam remembered that the child holoform was just the facsimile of a child. Frenzy started freeing Sam of his blanket prison, noting the new blanket on his feet that he suspected had been another 'gift' from the little Cassette. 

Epps coming through the door drew Will’s attention as he set the food clamshells on the table, BotBert rolling to the side to sit out of the way as Epps came in with a bottle of his special hot sauce that the General had apparently started brewing decades prior. All Sam knew was that when he caught a whiff of the stuff his nose hairs curled and every sinus in his skull opened so wide you could drive a Chevy Suburban through them. He assumed the only reason Epps could actually eat it was due to Spark Touched healing being involved somewhere along the way.

Will, luckily, refused to house the stuff so it was banished to live in Epps’ own apartment. Sam had seen the expression on Frenzy’s face the first time Sam had smelled the bottle and he’d locked eyes with the little mech. “I am not now, nor will I ever be eating that to satisfy your curiosity. If you want to know what that tastes like, you commune with Epps, not me.”

Frenzy had looked mulish but petulantly nodded reluctantly, Epps cackling behind Sam’s back. 

The Epps/Frenzy situation had confused Sam because it seemed like they’d been close but something about Sam had caused that to change. Will had snorted when Sam had asked about it before bed one night and pressed his hand over Sam’s eyes and told him to ‘go the fuck to sleep’ before proceeding to do so himself. If the solution to all of Sam’s problems was sleeping though, at least he was well up for the task.

“Hey Fancy, hey Sam.” Epps greeted, walking past them and grabbing a beer for himself from the fridge. Sam yawned and blinked before shoving himself up to stand and wandering over to the table where Will had pointedly set a ‘gain’ shake and a glass of water with his meal. 

“Hey Ray.” Sam greeted, shoving his sleeves up and collapsing into his chair. Luckily the meal wasn't BRAT oriented but calorie oriented so it was enjoyable to eat, even if the 'gain' shake was claggy. Conversation was mostly about the happenings on base which neatly dovetailed into Sam pointedly bringing up seeing Diego Garcia in person. Will's response every time he asked was to put more french-fries on his plate with a pointed look. Like a menace. Epps was laughing but Frenzy was very clearly confused. 

“Why does he keep doing that?” He asked Sam, seat drawn to Sam’s side but only pressing his knee against the humans.

Rolling his eyes, Sam gestured at Will. “He thinks he’s being clever. It’s called negative reinforcement - every time I do something he doesn’t want me to he does something I don’t like, like giving me food I can’t finish, so I subconsciously associate the thing I do with negative connotations. It’s not really effective because he’s not being serious, this is kind of like…playing?” He asked, glancing at Will. Will gave a Mona Lisa smile and stuck a fry in his mouth in response.  

“Why doesn’t he just tell you to ‘shut up’? It’d be clearer.” Frenzy frowned.

Shrugging, Sam fished one of the fries out and chomped on it. “There are a lot of psychological principles at play. When I was at Princeton I had an intro class to psychology and when I had my manic episode after I touched the AllSpark I read through the entire coursebook and there were a few sections on the dynamics of power between asking for what you want and getting what you want. Soft vs. Hard power.” The smaller Spark Touched explained.

Epps doused his fries heavily in hot sauce and Sam tugged his clamshell closer to cover the smell with breaded chicken, noodles and fries because nothing said calories like a southern cooking.

Will looked surprised, “Princeton?”

Sam winced, “Don’t get your hopes up, I was there for maybe a week before a pretender unit blew up the library trying to catch me. That was right before I came here, so I didn’t get to go to Princeton in this world. I didn’t even finish High School here.” He grumbled. “I sat for the SAT’s but by the time I got my results back I was too unstable to even be in a classroom.”

The two General’s winced, Epps pointing his bottle towards Sam, “That sucks, man. You ever think about trying again?”

Shrugging, Sam stuffed his face with noodles. “It kind of never really came up after everything. When I lived with my parents I was unstable, when I lived under Bernice’s ‘care’ I was still unstable and she wouldn’t pay for it, even with my money. Then I was in Washington in a null zone. I guess I could have gotten a GED or something but I was writing so it wasn’t, like, important to me since I knew I’d already done it.” He shrugged.

Letting it go, Will had just finished his beer and his food when Sam felt the presence of someone outside the door the same time that Frenzy did and though Frenzy knew who it was immediately Sam took a little longer to figure out that it was Cliffjumper on the other side of the door. 

Smirking, Will gave Sam a look. “We got daylight yet, and since you’ve been such a good boy, I asked Cliff if he’d be cool ferrying us around for a 10 cent tour of the island.”

Bursting into delighted laughter, Sam pointed his finger at the General. “You asshole, I thought I was going to be stuck in here forever!” He sassed, “I absolutely want to see the island.”

Chuckling, Lennox shoved Sam’s finger away and stood up, grabbing his own clamshell while raising an eyebrow at his fellow General.

Epps snorted, “You grandpa’s go look at the sunset, Frenzy and I got game night.” He explained pointedly to the little mech who looked utterly betrayed by this information. 

“I don’t wanna! I wanna go with Sam and Lennox and see the island!” He whined at Epps. 

Who folded his arms and considered the little mech. “You’ve been living in Sam’s pocket for over a week now and that’s great, but you’ve been neglecting your other friends, and they’ve noticed. Rumble even noticed and has been a little moping menace about it.” Epps pointed out and Sam could feel Frenzy’s upset at that information.

“He has?” The little mech asked in an almost timid voice and Sam was surprised to hear it from a feisty mech like Frenzy.

Nodding, Epps gave Frenzy what Sam would associate with a ‘dad look’, but sighed, “I know that the hyper-fixation is nice, but you know we do games on Mondays when we’re on base. Glen’s barely seen you in a week and you’re, supposedly, in his department.” Epps responded and Sam watched as the holoform next to him seemed to melt off the chair and onto the floor, out of Epps’s eyesight. Epps didn’t shift his gaze to the child shaped puddle on the floor though as Will packed up what was left of Sam’s food to eat later and shoved it into the fridge.

“Let them deal with that, we’re wasting sunlight.” Will pointed out and nudged Sam towards the loft stairs. “Real pants.”

Sam was about to argue when he remembered that he was borrowing a pair of Will’s pajamas and the size difference between them meant that not only did he have to tighten the waist chord but also roll the band over a few times so that the hem didn’t drag on the ground when he walked and the red and black checkered pattern probably wouldn’t vibe with the ‘island aesthetic’.

Grumbling, Sam ascended the staircase and pulled open the bottom drawer of the dresser where all of his stuff lived until the mystical day when he didn’t need babysitting 24/7 and had a room of his own and shimmied out of the pajamas, pulling on his light colored jeans from the Dollar General before trundling down the stairs again, hair shoved back and smiling. Freedom. People! Well, certain people, in any case, because Sam was not ready for more than a handful of the people he knew right now.

Frenzy had dropped his holoform but had taken the chair he’d been using and pushed it next to Epps and appeared to be leaning on the man as they spoke quietly and Sam wasn’t touching that with an Optimus length pole. Will, slightly relieved to see Sam, nudged him and BotBert towards the door.

“We’ll catch you guys later.” He declared and Sam was suddenly in the hallway.

He forgot how massive it was. According to Will, before the planetary defenses had been installed (Sam still wasn’t sure where or when that had happened), the safest place for the Cybertronians had been underground and considering that Diego Garcia was basically the top of a submerged island there had been plenty of room to work with.

Rightfully concerned, Sam had looked up at Will: “What happens if the water gets in?”

“Why, you drown.” Came Knock Out’s voice from across the med bay where the conversation had happened the first day he'd been awake.

First Aid had zinged the former Decepticon's fields hard enough that Sam and Will had felt it before responding, glaring at the scoffing red mech. “We have dozens of redundancies, not least of which is that each room has a force field and an independent generator. There are also oxygen masks in every room for many reasons with an air scrubber inside for an unlimited breathable atmosphere. The structure is also littered with moisture and movement sensors tied to an alarm system. We don’t like saltwater much either so it’s mutually beneficial.”

So the main section of the base was underground. Or at least, it had been, there was also an ‘island’ too, but Sam hadn’t gotten many details about the island’s island. 

Cliffjumper’s holoform was leaning back against himself when Sam and BotBert emerged, BotBert heading back to the mess and Sam smiling widely when he saw the big mech’s holoform. “Cliff!”

Smiling, Cliffjumper pulled Sam in for a brief squeeze as he looked Sam over and ran a small scan that tingled. “Sam, it’s so good to see you.” He smiled, settling his hand on Sam’s shoulder and washing him with [affection], before turning and smiling at Will. “You too.”

Waving him off, Will smiled at them. “Sam’s been getting a little stir crazy so I think a quick drive while he’s got the energy might be just what the doctor ordered.”

“As long as it’s okay with his doctor that’s all I care about.” Cliffjumper added before Sam found himself being gently shuffled into the passenger seat while Will walked around Cliffjumpers hood and into the drivers side seat, the holoform disappearing as the door swung closed, leaving the big showoff to rev his engine (which he didn’t technically have) loudly before taking off at a reasonable speed. 

Like Jasper, there were lines on the floor in different colors and textures as they passed through the corridors. “Hey Will, where do the lines go?” Sam asked, face pressed to Cliff jumpers clear windows.

Will, looking like he was driving with his hands comfortably wrapped around the synth leather of the steering wheel, glanced out the window. “This floor is partially residential but it has other things like the communications array and the mess on it as well. The blue line is to the shower racks, the orange is to the mess, and the pink is to the communications array. There’s a legend by the elevators or once we get you set up with a HUD.”

Sam’s face must have illustrated what he thought of that because Will laughed as they pulled up to the large elevator system, 6 bays that were all big enough to Optimus and his trailer at least.

“There are 10 floors in this section of the base, the most secure being on the bottom floors and working our way up to administration on the first floor. We’re on Floor -3.” Will explained as a bay opened and Cliffjumper pulled in, the door closing automatically behind them.

The elevator started moving when Cliffjumper added, “But many of the major functions of the city have been moved to New Iacon, several of the Spark Touched and other humans actually live there since it has a thing called ‘natural light’ which I understand is important to your kind.” He joked, nudging Will's fields in amusement. 

Rolling his eyes, Will rapped his knuckles on the dashboard in retribution. “Don’t you start. Epps and I are still in base because we’re command, and that’s where the command center is. We barely spend any time in our quarters anyway - this last week has been the most time I’ve been in it in years.” He snorted, giving Sam a long suffering look, “I get one low vitamin D report and I never hear the end of it.”

Smiling, Sam paused what he was going to say when they arrived at ground level and the ‘lobby’ came into view. He nearly choked when he recognized the design. “It looks like the Praxian Senate’s office.” He said in wonder. It was the sweeping jeweled clamshell curves in the ceiling that gave Sam the impression, each clamshell reflecting a rainbow affect above them in the waning light.

Cliffjumper purred under him, “Good eye. Can you guess why?”

Sam was still mesmerized by the effect but nodded thoughtfully, “It was Prowl, wasn’t it? Because not only is it beautiful but the shape and material can withstand more force than other designs.” He murmured thoughtfully.

“Ding ding ding! After Praxus fell one of the only things left was the Senate building. Not even Seeker fire could knock it down.” Cliffjumper explained.

And then just like that they were slipping through a wide sliding door past larger groups of people than Sam would have imagined and out into the sunlight. It was closer to 6PM than to 7PM, but the sun hung low and gravid in the sky all the same, casting the island into a warm pinkish glow that gave Sam the impression of a movie almost. All it needed was the lens flares and the pan scene and you'd have it. 

The sun slowly setting over the ocean was beautiful and as a California boy incredibly nostalgic. They were on the west side of the island looking west which was the excuse Sam made for himself when Cliffjumper continued around the bases large first floor and turned to the east that Sam finally understood what they meant by an 'island for the island'. 

It was magnificent. And huge. And wasn't so much an island as a city suspended above the waves by hundreds of thick white trunk-like structures which seemed to grow from the water like a forest and the city on top almost like a fantastic canopy suspended above. “It's like Laputa.” He breathed. 

Will chuckled, patting Sam's thigh. “That's New Iacon.” He explained with a grin. “The Cybertronians have been working on ‘er since they got the base.”

Cliffjumper rumbled in approval, beginning down an excellently tarmacked road away from the top of the island where the military base was and and headed down the island, parallel to the airfield pointed south, Sam's head on a swivel to keep New Iacon in view. “A slice of home far away from home.” He explained, radiating [pride] and [joy] at Sam's clear awe. “It's been somewhat slow going but we're almost done now.” 

Sam whistled, “It took Solus Prime* a vorn to make the Star Saber*, I think a city in less than 30 years is actually pretty impressive.” He said offhandedly, leaning forward to look around Will who obligingly leaned back to give the smaller man a better view. “It's gotta have so many levels!”

“33 for now, it's going to be our main outpost and our research facility for this quadrant of space; we invested accordingly.” The red mech explained as they basically spent the next twenty minutes driving down the two lane road that circumnavigated the island and passed humans and Cybertronians alike. Sam saw Beachcomber and Hound collecting specimens on the south end of the island while Cliffjumper got over taken by Arcee and her sisters running the perimeter and showing off when they noticed Sam in the passenger seat, Arcee ‘booping’ Cliff’s horns before cackling and speeding away. 

Cliff didn't give chase, but Sam suspected that it was for the Spark Touched sakes than a lack of interest to play. 

When they approached Barton Point on the furthest tip of the island Sam could see that where the road should have ended; it instead hooked to the left and a delicate lattice bridge led up to the New Iacon island itself. Gamely, Cliffjumper took the turn and soon the were entering the city.

It was more stunning up close than from afar. The tiers and levels of the city were open and visible from other levels above and below, almost organic in it's feel. Vegetation, both organic and not, was everywhere and while the road's hadn't been unpopulated, the city was bustling with a populace, a big one. While many were human, there had to have been over 100 Cybertronians visible from the ground level as they went about their lives, Sam surprised with how easily the Autobots and Decepticons interacted when he saw Jolt and one of the Construcicons, Scavenger, heading into a…bar? The sign above them was at the wrong angle to read.

“Are the Constructicons here?” He wanted to confirm.

Will pulled a face but nodded. “They helped with a lot of the foundational structures for New Iacon.” He admitted.

Concerned, Sam turned to Cliffjumper. “That doesn't sound like a ringing endorsement.” He muttered to the central console and Cliff chuckled.

Tightening the belt on Will for moment, Cliffjumper addressed Sam. “They're not great on ‘personal boundaries’. Long Haul has taken a shine to Will and sometimes kidnaps him for lunch.” 

Considering the last time he'd seen the Constructicons they'd been in their gestalt form and trying to turn the Sun into Energon using a million year old artifact buried in a pyramid, this was a far more acceptable situation by far. Sam turned to Will to poke fun when…

A flash, just out of the corner of his eye, something achingly familiar appeared. Something that caused the breath to steal from his lungs and his pulse to quicken and his attention to catch hard. 

Because walking behind a building was an extremely familiar shade of yellow. 

Chapter Text

“STOP!” Sam yelled, attempting to jerk the passenger side door handle open, even if Cliffjumper didn’t stop, and leap from the slow but not that slowly moving vehicle. Any rational person would know instantly that actually leaping from Cliffjumper at such a speed would be a recipe for disaster, resulting in not insignificant injuries to an already damaged and delicate form. Not that Sam was rational in that moment enough to realize that.

Luckily, it wasn’t, and instead Sam just rammed his already injured shoulder into Cliffjumper hard enough to see bright bursting stars, not that that stopped him from doing so again, his brain yelling ‘BUMBLEBEE’ louder than his pain receptors could ever hope to drown out.

Sam didn’t stop until Cliff had come to a halt in the middle of the promenade they were navigating through and Will wrestled him into a hold, words finally starting to register to him again, though the drum of ‘Bumblebee’ in the back of his mind was a constant beat, enough that he almost couldn’t hear First Aid’s voice through their bond. It was only then that Sam came back to himself, arm absolutely throbbing and lips begging Will to let him go to Bee without his input.

“Sam, what color are we at?” Will demanded, his grip strong and sure around Sam’s much smaller frame, like a hug and a vice in one, holding the squirming teen sized body.

Sam turned his eyes up at Will, trying to understand what he’d just said. ‘::Sam, listen to Will. What color are you at?::’ First Aid interjected and Sam felt the medics mind with his, doing something that seemed to lower the volume of the demanding drone of Bumblebee’s name. 

Sam breathed, closing his eyes, “Black.” He mumbled, feeling Will nod and hold him tighter. “I saw Bumblebee! He was walking right there! Please, please, I need to see him. I need to see him and see that he’s okay. Please Will, please, I need--” Sam begged.

Will pressed his cheek to Sam’s curls and tightened his hold, shushing Sam’s desperate plea with soothing noises while some kind of chatter passed between Cliffjumper and Will was just loud enough to be registered by Sam’s mind but not understood. The ‘Parental’ controls that First Aid had over his access to the Communication Network were not entirely strong enough to block everything out when they were so close.

Keening, Sam slumped, “Please. I’m sorry, I swear I thought I saw him. What if he’s there?” He whined, feeling tears in his eyes. “Please, please, I wanna check.”

Whatever First Aid was doing was helping, but Sam continued to wriggle in Will’s arms, hissing at the throbbing his arm gave him at that maneuver. ‘::Sam, you’re alright, you have both Will and Cliffjumper there with you. You’re safe. I’m sorry, but there are no records of your ‘Bumblebee’ on Earth.::’ First Aid tried to explain. 

“But you said Cybertronians show up here all the time! That you don’t even know that they’re here until they’re here. Please, I know it’s crazy but I have to see!” He begged aloud, feeling First Aid’s [concern] and [confusion] as Will continued to hold him, the man's grip shifting to contain him better but never lessoning in doing so.

Cliffjumper hummed, “We could take a look if you promise to go to the med bay right after, you rammed your shoulder pretty hard and my scans indicate it’s starting to swell.”

“YES!” Sam cried, turning to look at the center console, “Yes, we can just go look! Will! Please!” He begged. “I’ll go right to the med bay if he isn’t here, I promise, please.” He begged both Will and First Aid, no pride lost at his behavior.

Will was giving Cliffjumper a sour look, arms still tight around Sam. “Sam, if you’ve got swelling, we should prioritize getting you to the medical wing. I can ask Red Alert to check the footage for your friend, but wandering around downtown when you’re injured isn’t a great idea.” He cautioned too reasonably.

“No, no, noonononono, Will, please, just a quick check! Like, five minutes, tops! Please, I just need to be sure.” Sam begged, pleaded, still squirming a little in the General’s hold. 

‘::Sam, what are your levels at right now?::’ First Aid asked.

“Green, I’m so green.” Sam replied too quickly and felt a small ‘zing’ from his Guardian for so blatantly lying to First Aid. “Okay! I’m…I don’t know, I like yellow? I don’t know. Please First Aid, please Will, please Cliff! I promise, I’ll be good, I just have to see if it’s him!” Sam finished.

There was a long pause as a conversation happened that Sam was not privy too before Will sighed. “Okay, we’ll look around the block once and only once and then we take you back to base and you don’t cause a fuss, okay?” Will bargained and Sam breathed out, nodding excitedly as a blue zazzle appeared next to Cliffjumper's passenger side door as his holoform engaged. Will held Sam until the door popped open and the hulking holoform reached in and took his hand, helping him out of the seat but not letting go.

At the same time, First Aid pressed [prudence] and [worry] through their bond. ‘::I am currently indisposed--::’ Sam got the impression he was still in surgery and suddenly felt like a shit for worrying his Guardian, ‘::--but when you come back we're going to talk about what happened and some intervention methods to utilize before you cause harm to yourself, are we clear?::’ Came the medics rebuke and Sam hunched his shoulders but sent back [acknowledgement] and [apology].

By the time Will had come around, Cliffjumper had linked Sam and his holoforms fingers together and had a very sure, very firm grip on Sam’s hand in such a way that Sam was pretty sure that he would actually break his own fingers before Cliffjumper would let him go, if he did.

Noted.

Will looked like he was sucking a lemon when Sam saw him and was radiating [unhappy] and [long suffering] when he came to a stop and looked up at Cliffjumper as his mechanoid form rolled back a little to transform, Will switching his eyes between the two forms. “I want it noted that I think this is a terrible idea.” he huffed before leveling a look at Sam. “What color are we?” 

Sam looked around and noted how many people there were and felt revulsion with how many were looking at him. “Yellow. I don't like it when people look at me.” He admitted quietly and Will’s constipated face mellowed a little, lifting his hand to settle on the shoulder Sam hadn't just rammed into the internal armor of a galactic warrior. 

“Okay. Sam, where do you think you saw your friend?” He asked quietly and Sam tugged Cliffjumper's hand and dragged them back the way that they'd come. 

Sam pointed with his held hand, his chicken wing aching terribly but not enough to deter him. “By the benches over here, he was walking around the building with the poetry on the side!” He declared, Will and Cliffjumper's holoform barely keeping pace while the crowd made room for the larger version of Cliffjumper to walk through. If Sam hadn't been so sidetracked he might have found the maneuvering interesting, speaking to a population that was well used to giants amongst them, but he was busy on the trail. 

He didn't know what he expected but when he rounded the corner with a small mural, ::Freedom is the right of all sentient beings:: inscribed in Primal Vermillion, he only saw more promenade, humans and non-yellow mechanoids alike walking or sitting using the large public structures like benches to speak together. The humans having accessible paths to the various levels where if one wished they could have an eye to eye conversation with even mechs of Optimus or Ultra Magnus’ stature without issue. 

“He was here.” Sam whispered, looking around desperately. “I saw him, I swear.” He said to himself but even so the doubt that he'd had in the car had quadrupled in the time it had taken to walk that short distance.

Will breathed out, wrapping his arm around Sam's shoulder gently, “It's okay Sam. I get it.” He said and Sam’s shoulders fell under the weight of disappointment, not just his own, at that statement. He'd gone crazy again, and for what? A color out of the corner of his eye?

There was a burst of laughter and Sam glanced up to the entrance to the closest business in the block and frowned. “Is that a bar?” He asked curiously. If it was, it focused on a particular clientele because the door was nearly 30 feet tall. 

Distracted, Cliffjumper glanced up and nodded, “It's a ::Maccadams::.” He explained and Sam was reminded of the one on Cybertron that it seemed like everyone rich, poor, high caste, low caste and everyone in between had gone to at one point or another, so long as they'd had the shanix.

This late most of the other businesses were closed, but the ::Maccadams and a couple of human sized restaurants were still open and slightly raised Sam’s hopes a little, like smoke from an ember. “Can we look in there really quick? I know we said we'd head back, but it's the only thing here he could be in.” He justified, figuring he'd already come this far, a little further couldn't hurt. 

The lemon was once more in Will's mouth before he sighed and looked at Cliffjumper's mechanoid form. “You think you can get us in for a quick look around?”

The mech knelt down and held out his palm. “It's a mech bar, it's best not to be underfoot.” He explained and Will sat down, acting as an anchor as Sam sat next to him and Will wrapped his arm securely around Sam's middle so that when Cliffjumper stood up they were cradled to his chassis like pets or like when Sam had had his freakout nightmare outside of Lake Shasta. 

Once he was sure the two were secure, an invisible belt like sensation holding them tighter all the same, Cliffjumper stood up and walked towards the door to the bar. 

The bouncer was huge. Tall, thick, and clearly designed for hand to hand combat, he stood in the doorway quietly as the rowdy crowd inside continued their libations and celebrations. His attention caught on them as they arrived and blocked the doorway with his arm. Since he was a good 15 feet taller than Cliffjumper's more modest 20 feet, he wasn't to be ignored.

Indicating the two humans in Cliffjumper's arm and pointed to a sign closer to human height that stated: ‘ Cybertronians Only: Drunk Mecha Inside 🥴🍾 ‘, emotes and everything. 

“Hey ::Ten*::, we're just looking for someone. We won't be more than a minute.” Cliffjumper tried to explain. 

“::Ten::” The mech responded, and Sam frowned because while the mech vocalized the word ::Ten::, that's not what he said. He'd said “$No Exceptions.$”

Sam leaned forward, “I thought I saw my friend, he's about Cliffjumper's height, yellow? Did you see him?” 

The bouncer raised a brow ridge at Sam, puzzled, “$He is your friend?$”

Sam nodded, his hopes rising greatly at the mech's words. “Yes! You saw him? He's inside?” Sam demanded and realized that Will's arms had become a vice around him and that Cliffjumper was looking at Sam in confusion. 

“Sam, can you understand what ::Ten:: is saying?” The red mech asked, and ::Ten:: also looked confused but extremely interested in Sam's answer. 

Looking back and forth he shrugged. “Yeah? I mean, it's not NeoCybex but I get it.” 

::Ten:: looked thrilled by this information. “$You can really understand me?$” He asked almost desperately. 

Nodding, Sam frowned because for once he didn't know the mech in front of him like an old friend. ::Ten:: was a mystery, like the humans around them with the exception of Will, though there were vague memories of ::Ten:: or mechs that looked like ::Ten:: in them. “Yeah, I can understand you.” He replied, suddenly curious why that was.

The big mech looked at them before looking back into the bar. Turning to Sam, he inclined his helm. “$One minute to look around for your friend and then you come back with or without him. I want you to help me write a letter in exchange.$” The big mech bargained. 

Surprised, pleased, Sam nodded. “Absolutely! We'll be in there for just a minute and then we'll leave, promise!” He enthused with a wide smile. 

Nodding back, ::Ten:: lifted his massive arm.and let them through.

Not looking a gift horse in the mouth, Cliffjumper stepped in and then all three of them were scanning the large bar. For a Monday it was packed and while the Maccadams of Cybertron was a classic sit down bar, the Earth Maccadams had rather…diversified it's offerings. There was a section of the bar which appeared to be a stage that was currently being used as a karaoke stage, a section that had max sized bar games like darts and pool, what appeared to be an arcade, and a section in the back where there were mechs at tables while someone appeared to be asking them trivia questions. 

In short, the bar was huge and Sam wasn't sure he'd be able to keep his promise to ::Ten::. Cliffjumper had no such intimidation and powered on forward, making a full circuit of the place. 

The one nice thing was that yellow was not a common color. Even the Constructicons were more gray than yellow when in their bipedal mode and an entirely different shade of yellow altogether that even the multicolored bar light couldn't hide. 

They'd been going around and drawing attention from the AllSpark energy the two Spark Touched were emanating for an eternity (36 seconds) when Sam saw a flash of bright sunflower yellow and pointed with his good arm. “There!”

Cliffjumper followed his finger and hummed, which vibrated through Will and Sam, before proceeding to the Karaoke section of the bar. 

But even as they approached Sam knew something was wrong, the mech was the right color but even in the half light Sam realized with a sinking pit in his stomach that this wasn't Bee.

Cliffjumper warbling a “::Hello.::” To the mech caused him to turn in his seat and Sam was suddenly face to face with Sunstreaker, Sideswipe coming back from the bar with a couple of barrels of High Grade in each servo the icing on the oil cake*.

“Sam!” Sideswipe greeted, [joy] and [surprise] lighting up his fields. “What are you doing here? I thought you were still in quarantine. First Aid realize you've escaped yet?” He joked before handing his brother his barrel of high grade. “Sunny, this is Sam - the Spark Touched I told you about. Sam, you already know my brother.” He said with a wink and Sam smiled back, though he didn't really feel it. 

“Hey! It's my first time out, Cliffjumper was showing me around.” So stupid, I'm so stupid! He chastised himself. “We're not technically supposed to be in here, but I thought I saw someone and managed to sweet talk the bouncer into letting us take a look around.” He explained. “But I was wrong.” 

The twins shared a look before Sunny stood up. Sunstreaker and Sideswipe were tall, a good few feet taller than Cliffjumper, and nodded towards the door in unison, eerily. “We'll walk you out, the crowds getting rowdy.” Sideswipe offered, but he didn't really; they were being walked out by the twins whether they wanted to or not. That the bar appeared to have gotten much rowdier since their arrival completely lost on the two Spark Touched but not on anyone else.

Which was fair. Sam suddenly didn't want to be in the bar at all and instead wanted to be back in Will's apartment, completely covered in all of the stolen blankets that Frenzy had gotten him and have a small pity party: population one. 

Will and Cliff felt [relieved] by this offer and Cliffjumper couldn't get to the door fast enough, Will and Sam tucked in close to his chassis for safety and to remain hidden from Swerve at the bar and the rest of the staff who, noting the increase in activity themselves, had begun to investigate the issue themselves. The redolence of AllSpark energy wafting through the establishment like an elusive scent, tantalizing their fields.

When they got to the door, ::Ten:: rippled [impatience], but not like any mech Sam had ever felt or like how a Spark Touched would, but understandable all the same. Once out of the bar, Sam pressed his face into Will's shoulder and felt his shoulders droop. 

“$You found your ‘friend’?$” ::Ten asked.

Sam rallied. “No, but we ran into some other friends! Thank you for letting me look.” He smiled at the big mech who looked at Sunstreaker and Sideswipe dubiously and Sam kind of got it. Sunstreaker was…an acquired taste.  To say the least. 

The mech refocused on him. “$You remember our deal, little human?$”

Frowning, Sam nodded. “Yeah, I help you write a letter and you let us in. I can't write currently--” he wiggled his chicken wing, his writing hand, “--but I'll help when I'm healed up.” 

“Sam, you didn't say you'd bargained with it.” Cliffjumper chastised him.

“Who were you looking for, Sam?” Sideswipe interrupted Sam's response. 

He frowned before sighing, “I thought I…I thought I saw Bumblebee.” He admitted, feeling the flood of self chastisement. “I'm sorry.” 

Sideswipe nodded, “Your missing friend, from your world.” He recapped for his brother who looked confused. “Does Sunny look like him?”

Shaking his head, Sam felt like a deflated balloon after being pumped too full and released. “Not really. Their color is similar though. Similar enough to make me lose my mind, apparently.” He explained.

Sunstreaker's optics narrowed, but instead of sass which is what he expected, he just felt a small throb of empathy in spite of the words that came out of the mech's mouth. “Being the consolation prize isn't exactly flattering.” He griped but he didn't seem actually upset. “Still, it's nice to meet you Sam. ::Swipe:: wasn't exaggerating when he said you were an experience.” He smirked and Sam felt a more deliberate tweaking of his field which he automatically slapped at mentally, causing Sunstreaker's optics to widen and his intake to stretch into a grin at the response, “Feisty, are we?” 

“Not now Sunstreaker. Sam's been out a bit too long and we have the head back to the med bay.” Will interrupted pointedly before Sam could spend too much time focusing on that interaction. 

All optics swept to Sam and Sideswipes expression went from fond tolerance of his brother to concern at that statement. “You okay, Sam?”

Shrugging with his good shoulder, Sam gave the mech a self deprecating smile. “I was stupid earlier and stressed it.” He explained, trying to ignore the [exasperation] that he felt from Will. “I was supposed to go to the med bay but I begged to check for Bee.” 

Sideswipe appeared to be able to read between the lines because he gave Cliffjumper a complicated look before clamping his hand on Sunstreaker's elbow. “Well, we won't keep you then. Feel better soon Sam, then I can show you the lab.” He offered mysteriously before heading back into the bar, Sunstreaker's bright blue optics on Sam all the way until they were inside again. 

Grateful for an almost Irish goodbye, Sam turned to Will and Cliffjumper. “I'm sorry, I'm so stupid. Can we go back now?” He begged quietly and Will tightened his arm around Sam’s middle in a hug.

“None of that language.” He corrected as Cliffjumper walked back to where the promenades clear road way was. “You thought you saw someone, the only person you hurt was yourself - which we will be having words about.” The man promised. 

“First Aid already told me.” Sam mumbled, the feeling of sadness and overwhelming grief slowly surging like a sleeper wave just off his coast. 

Cliffjumper set them down gently before moving away and engaging his t-cog to change once he had enough room in a strange painted yellow box* to one side of the road. 

‘::Sam? What color?::’ First Aid asked gently. 

“Green, a little yellow. I'm…I don't feel very good.” He said aloud. Will's eyes softened and he helped settle Sam in the passenger seat again before joining him in the cab in the driver's seat.

“It happens sometimes, with PTSD." The General explained, something in his tone imparting a sense that the man had drifted back in time and was reflecting on his own personal experience. "You think you see something and you get fixated on it.” Will explained, reaching over and holding Sam's shoulder as an anchor while Cliffjumper started forward. Sam suddenly wondered if it was an anchor for Sam or and anchor for the General himself. 

Sam nodded numbly, grief and despair just on the other side of the emotionless valley he'd settled in. “I thought it was him.” He explained to himself, reaching a hand up and tugging on his hair almost roughly. 

Will reached over and grabbed his hand, clasping it in his own and Sam turned to look at him, not upset, but not really processing at full capacity either. 

Squeezing his hand, Will gave him a fond smile. “Sam, it's okay. No one's mad at you. You had a natural reaction. It happens. It actually wasn't that bad of a response, honestly. Do you think the colors helped a little bit?”

Distracted, Sam frowned and thought about it. “I went to black so fast.” He stated, unsettled by that realization. 

Will nodded, “Its worse when you're stressed and boy howdy, does that cover how your month is going.” He smiled apologetically, squeezing Sam's hand. “Would ice cream help?”

“When doesn't ice cream help?” Sam quipped back and Sam noticed that Will felt [relief] and that he'd been radiating [worry] before that. 

“Truer words have never been spoken.” The General laughed and Sam was glad that Will was holding his hand. It made Sam feel like he was real, that Sam wasn't just a ghost in this world, that he existed. 

The taste of strawberry was still on the back of his tongue by the time that Sam arrived in the med bay, the subsequent medical exam went about as well as Sam could guess; he'd jammed his shoulder good and the inflammation that had been receding was back in full force, his shoulder muscles were nice and swollen, reddish hued. First Aid, out of surgery for the time being, attended to him and spoke quietly about the incident. 

“It felt so real.” Sam repeated to himself. “It was like he'd never gone, and all I had to do was follow him.” 

First Aid nodded, having rubbed lidocaine gel into the shoulder and was now rewrapping it with a new, sturdier set of bandages, much of the healing undone in his brief escape attempt. “Did you know that Cybertronians have a similar condition? After trauma, our memory reading and writing can become corrupted and images or sounds can suddenly appear that aren't present or only bear a passing resemblance to actual things.” First Aid explained gently, helping to maneuver a large shirt onto Sam and strap his arm brace over it. “And you miss this Bumblebee very much; being in New Iacon, surrounded by Cybertronians and then seeing Sunstreaker's yellow form - it's not very surprising that you had a reaction, but we need to work on what that reaction is for when this happens again. Which it will.” 

Sam slumped, “I don't…it sucked to get my hopes up and just…” Looking up at First Aid, Sam tried to ignore how shitty he felt. “I just miss him so much. It hurts that he's not here.” He said, raising his hand up to rub above his heart.

First Aid's optics narrowed* slightly but his presence in Sam's mind was warm like a particularly well loved blanket. “Those who are gone with no closure are the hardest to mourn - Bumblebee is likely out there, but he may also have gone to ::the Well::. Not knowing is a painful place to be.”

Sam was about to agree when he paused, something inside answering that question. “He's not dead.” Sam said, a queer look on his face, hand going back to his heart and rubbing the skin there absently. “He's still out there.” 

First Aid's face became thoughtful and Sam felt the tingle of one of his more in depth scans. Tilting his large helm, First Aid's brow ridges shifted in a complicated motion. “Sam, can you tell me what you just felt?”

Blinking, Sam frowned up at First Aid. “Huh?” 

The large mech indicated Sam with his servo. “Your body accumulates a kind of energy, the AllSpark energy, which we refer to as ::Zeph::. When you have a seizure, your AllSpark energy goes from a state of high potential energy to a low energy state. Between seizures you charge at a steady rate, generally, but…you just jumped. You went for ::23 Zeph:: to ::26 Zeph::.” First Aid explained thoughtfully. “That's about a full day of accumulation for you.”

Frowning, Sam pressed his fingers to his sternum. “I dunno. When you said Bee could be…gone, I knew he wasn't. Just, like, knew. Which is…probably wishful thinking.” The man muttered quietly, knowing that his own mental health wasn't great and that Bee had been lost on Cybertron after the fall of the original Iacon, a place rife with very dangerous Decepticons. 

But First Aid looked thoughtful. “I wouldn't be so sure. Sam, you have a connection to the AllSpark that allows you to see the past, maybe there’s a memory that you have but can't process yet your subconscious is aware of. Or, the AllSpark itself might be telling you.” The medic hypothesized thoughtfully. “We're still new days with your condition, Sam, there's still so much we don't know. But I would go with your feeling on this one, someone in very high places has got their optics on you.” First Aid said encouragingly. 

Sam scoffed, “Primus and God have to be having some kind of bet. Who can most creatively mess with me because Holey Moley there's really no other explanation.” He grunted. 

Giving Sam a wan smile, First Aid hesitated for a second. “With your levels climbing we'll likely see a seizure very soon.” First Aid noted quietly. 

Scrunching his eyes closed, Sam nodded. “Yeah, I know. I don't think it's a good idea for me to really leave the couch till it does, I can get pretty hurt if I have access to more than one floor.” He admitted. “I broke my arm when I was about 20 tripping down the stairs after one.” The [fear] was a surprise, but the [empathy] wasn't.

Remedy, who had been finishing some repairs on what looked like a rotor mechanism (possibly Blast Off’s), glanced at them before setting her tools down and heading into the back. Which was weird.

First Aid waited until she was behind the door, raising Sam’s suspicions, giving the illusion of privacy in such an open place, before turning his optics to the smaller human. “Sam, I want to talk to you about a possible treatment option for the seizures that you haven't tried before. It's…unconventional for humans, but not unheard of for Cybertronians.” The medic explained, folding his servos on the large berth where Sam had been getting patched up. 

Sam frowned, confused. “I didn't know that you guys had seizures. I don't remember that.” He said, confused. 

Shaking his helm, First Aid settled more firmly in his industrial sized rolling stool. “Not outside of glitching issues, and those are almost entirely repairable, but there are those like Jolt who were constructed with electrical focused abilities. They're an uncommon build, but it's not uncommon amongst them to have overcharging issues before they reach maturity. It's not an easy system to master.” The medic explained. “While your overcharging is different, after consideration and discussion with some of the other medical staff we think the treatment might be viable.” 

Staring up at the slightly hopeful mech, Sam didn't know exactly what to say. That sounded promising, but he's been sold a lot of snake oil over the years, even by completely earnest people. But…they'd helped with the signal issues - mostly, he still had some flare ups near equipment but for the most part he'd gone from completely debilitated to functional, for that at least. But…”You hesitated. You don't think I'm going to like it.” Sam surmised. 

The red and white mech gave Sam a rueful look. “There are cultural issues I'm not sure you'll be comfortable with.” He explained patiently. “We believe that a more controlled discharge of your overcharge might be a solution, keeping your ::Zeph:: levels lower.” 

That…didn't sound so bad. It kind of made sense, even, but what did that have to do with ‘culture’? “How do we do that?” He asked hesitantly, noticing the tension in the bots frame.

Venting air, First Aid cooled his coils before addressing Sam with a held gaze. “I am going to talk about Cybertronian Intimacy by way of explanation, partly for your education and partly as an explanation.” He began and Sam's eyes widened in confusion. “Please let me explain and we'll discuss at the end.” The Ambulance requested and Sam nodded. 

“Cybertronians have multiple forms of intimacy: there is the purely physical as all base units are equipped with what is called a ‘spike’ and a ‘valve’, they operate not that dissimilarly from a penis and a vagina. The kinetic energy buildup from the act of physical intimacy is to achieve a state called ::Overloading::, which is not dissimilar to an orgasm.” The medic stated.

Sam suddenly realized that he was having a ‘birds and the bees’ discussion with First Aid when he least suspected it. Eyes widening, he leaned back in surprise, sending [mild distress] to his Guardian. 

Giving Sam a knowing look, the medic inclined his helm. “This is why I was hesitant, but even if we do not move forward with this treatment option I want you to be completely aware of what it is to make an informed decision. I am not saying any of this to make you uncomfortable, I understand intimacy is a taboo subject amongst humans but as you know, it isn't for Cybertronians. I ask that you allow me to finish and if you don't want to discuss this ever again I will understand.” 

Feeling…embarrassed[mortified][curious], Sam reluctantly nodded. “I know some things.” He felt the need to point out. 

Chuckling, First Aid sent back [understanding] and [comfort], “But hardly a comprehensive knowledge.” He pointed out and Sam couldn't argue that. “There are other options - ‘Cabling’ is more common, where partners share charge in a loop until they again reach ::Overload::. Far less common is 'Spark Merging': it's a somewhat dangerous engagement for casual partners as it permits the partners to meld their sparks, sharing much of their data and base coding directly with someone else, but for long term partners it offers a far greater ::Overload:: as the interface isn't limited by what the physical form can handle, and can sometimes result in a Spark Bond similar to a Spark Twin bond.” The medic explained and Sam, in spite of his initial response, found himself curious.

He'd…seen some stuff, but it wasn't like physics, just because he saw something didn't mean that he understood it. “Cabling isn't just for…’sexy times’ though, right?” 

Nodding with a small smile, because ‘curious Sam’ was ‘engaged Sam’, First Aid tapped a digit on the berth, “Correct. Cabling is used for many situations, it allows someone access to a designated space that the one receiving that cable sets the parameters of. There are some modifications that can be used for their cables, ones we can discuss at a later time, for particular activities.” The mech added. “But finally, there is ‘Fielding’. It's a more forgiving route to ::Overload:: in that it is manipulating the fields that all Cybertronians have and now you and the Generals have, and we suspect so too will the other Spark Touched over time.” 

Eyebrows up, Sam then frowned, “Like…our feelings fields?” He tried to clarify. 

Waving his servo back and forth, First Aid clarified. “It is a combination of your ‘feelings fields’ and the ::Communication Network::. Fielding is the easiest and least involved version of Cybertronian intimacy because as long as two or more individuals have signal they can ::Overload:: together, though distance increases the amount of effort needed to reach ::Overload::.”

Trying to wrap his head around that, Sam tilted his head like a confused puppy. “So, they don't even need to be near each other?” 

Shaking his helm, First Aid spread his digits on the berth, “No. Long distance partners can even achieve ::Overload:: from different star systems, but it's honestly a great deal of work for a very small return. Still pleasurable, but not noteworthy.” 

Narrowing his eyes at First Aid, Sam couldn’t help but giggle, “You've done it?”

The medic smirked at Sam, “Everyone seems to think I am somehow removed from intimacy and pleasure, but I am very much active - though perhaps not as much as many on base.” He vented, giving Sam a rueful look. “Yes, I have had many long distance partners, especially during the War.”

The amusement left Sam's face at the mention And First Aid cursed himself for the blunder. “But Fielding is of interest to us. It is a successful method for discharging an accumulated charge in a safe, supportive environment with someone you're comfortable with.” The mech plowed through, hoping to recover the conversation. “It is also the most comparable with a human’s form as there is no danger from bodily harm with it.” 

The mental (and not so imaginary) images that evoked caused Sam to scrunch his face up. “Yeah, not exactly raring to have a go with any of those other methods.” He said sourly, but First Aid noted, pleasantly surprised, that Sam wasn't horrified by the information imparted. Embarrassed? Yes, but that was more or less to be expected. 

Glancing at the mech, Sam kicked his leg to dissipate the sudden accrual of nervous energy. “So it's…just, like, feelings?” He asked.

The mech nodded, “Feelings, though sensory input can be added to what the partners feel comfortable with. As humans are physically stimulated for their sexual intimacy, the act might involve similar behaviors to help build to an ::Overload::.” He explained as detached as he could. Sam seemed more responsive to a fact based approach and curious, something that increased the chances that he would consent to at least trying the procedure.

“So, like, sex? Field manipulation with sexy times on the side?” He frowned, suddenly unsure. “I've…I've never had sex here. Not here here, and…” He frowned, “And I only ever had...you know, with Mikaela and only a few times.” He admitted reluctantly, a combination of his own awkwardness and her wanting a relationship built on something other than sex and death defying hijinks meaning that they'd only really started having sex in the middle of their senior year and then only when Mikaela initiated. Sam had just been thrilled to have any sex with her, but that meant that his theoretical knowledge versus practical still screwed far more towards the theoretical. “I don't…I wouldn't really know what to do.” He realized. He hadn't really even thought of sex in...well, a long, long time.

Finding himself somewhat charmed, First Aid realized that Sam was focusing on ‘performance issues’ rather than denying the whole thing out of turn. “You wouldn't be expected to, Sam. You would be with someone who would be focused on helping you reach ::Overload::, not on your performance, if you understand my meaning. We just need to understand if ::Overloading:: your system will have the same effect on your ::zeph:: levels as it does with those dealing with other charging issues.”

Reluctantly, embarrassed, Sam glanced up at First Aid, “It…doesn't work alone?”

Sam didn't realize it, but he looked so small, so sad, sitting in his large T-shirt, obviously injured and still so painfully alone that First Aid, who was immune to his puppy dog eyes, wasn't to his actual timidity. Holoform appearing between the two of them, First Aid sat on the bed next to Sam and after a moment to check for Sam's consent, wrapped an arm around Sam's good shoulder and pulled him in, noting that Sam's skin felt cool to the touch even in the temperature regulated med bay. 

“::Overloading:: only works with others.” He explained, sending [understanding] and [comfort] along the other’s fields, “What do you think?” 

Sam leaned into First Aid's holoforms side, resting his temple against the holographic throat. “It's a lot.” He admitted, finally. “And…weird. Of all the therapies I've had, I don't think I've ever found someone who was realistically offering ‘sex therapy’.” He joked, trying to defer his anxious nerves. “Isn't…isn't it weird for a Cybertronian to…you know, with a human?” He asked. 

Inexplicable, the emotional equivalent of [bless his heart] rippled along the periphery of Sam's fields and he remembered that even though they were alone in the room that audial sensors didn't need to be in the room to hear them. First Aid though overwhelmed it with [amusement] and [coyness]. Sam looked up at the holoform's blue eyes and First Aid tightened his arm minutely before looking up at himself, or just in the same direction before responding. “Cybertronians aren't…discriminatory with our partners. If I'm completely honest, some of us should be far more than we are. With our holoforms especially it's become noted across the galaxy that we're a bit…” 

“Slutty?” Sam offered before realizing what he'd said and blushing bright red. 

But First Aid wasn't bothered. “Promiscuous. We don't breed through sexual congress, so we don't really have the same hang-ups that many species have to the act as we don’t have to deal with the consequences, such as progeny, as other species do, and our sensory arrays mimic the populace that we're associating with so having intimacy with other species is quite pleasurable, most of the time. Many Cybertronians have had relationships with humans.” He explained gently. 

Sam was reminded, suddenly, of one of his memories that he'd never had context for until right that second because sometimes Will and Ironhide, in his world, had looked at each other in a way that Sam, given the context of the situation, suddenly understood. 

“Will loved Ironhide.” He realized. 

The sound that came out of both holoform and mech form at that statement reminded Sam that he had fallen into the conversational weeds suddenly. 

But First Aid looked amused. “You know what? I can actually see that.” He chuckled, squeezing the smaller human gently to his side. “It doesn't have to be love, exactly, but I just want you to think about it, okay? We don't have a timeline, just a theory, but I'd encourage you to consider it with the understanding that we don't have an alternative right now that isn't you continuing to have seizures as your filaments grow.” 

Sam scrubbed his face, realizing that he was suddenly completely exhausted, which might be why he asked, “Who would even want to…you know, with me? I'm…” Disgusting, Sam finished in his mind and some of that must have come through because First Aid's eyes and optics both focused on Sam like laser beams. 

“Sam, you could never be disgusting.” The mech, not the holoform, said, leaning closer so that his helm was just out of reaching distance, the digit of his servo gently pressed to Sam’s leg. “You are perfect just the way you are, you would be if you were any other morphology, because you'd still be Sam and that's pretty great in my book.” He said, giving Sam a wink as the holoform pulled him close and hugged him, deliberately triggering an oxytocin release in the human. “There would be no shortage of volunteers, admittedly though I believe a less sex forward approach should be utilized until you feel like you're ready for it. This is about you feeling better and it's not worth traumatizing you to help you. Counterproductive.” He reasoned. 

Mulling that over, Sam didn't realize he was drifting off before he felt First Aid's fingers in his hair, keeping his head up where it had started to slip down. “Brain tired.” He admitted to the mech since he didn't have to move to see his optics. 

Nodding, First Aid straightened to his full height and tucked his stool under the medical berth. “I'm going to keep you for observation tonight for that shoulder. I'm still on duty till tomorrow afternoon--” Sam remembered that even though they were on earth that the mech's were working a standard Cybertronian Cycle which amounted to about 32 hours in a day compared to Earth's more modest 24, “But I thought you might humor me with something Skids found for you.” He offered. 

Tired, but curious, Sam tried to sit up and let himself be picked up like a child, under his good arm arm and around his hip, as First Aid drew him across the room to what Sam knew was First Aid's work station from having been in the med bay after his trip through the Ground Bridge. What was different was that the mech had cleared out a space against the back wall for…something that looked like a person sized dog bed. Kind of. An ovular dark green shape with raised, bolstered sides, pillows, and blankets inside. 

Sam was immediately delighted, chuckling as First Aid set him down. “That's amazing. Where on Earth did he find it?” 

First Aid lifted the blanket and nudged Sam forward, “From what I gathered, on The Nile*. He got the one with memory foam.” The medic revealed with a smile and helped Sam settle into the human dog bed by letting Sam hold his index digit to hold onto as he carefully lowered himself into the cush surface. 

Sam huffed as he nestled in, grimacing as his arm settled, before finding a comfortable position and sighing as he sank into the bedding. “Oh, this is nice.” He realized after he lay still for a second. It was big enough for more than him, he realized, hell - Will, Epps, and maybe even Cliffjumper's holoform could fit if they got real cozy.

First Aid nodded before he settled one of the blankets over him, carefully tucking Sam in under his arm brace and running a servo over the humans crown gently. “Go to sleep Sam.” 

Sam grunted in acknowledgement, eyes already getting gummy, when he made a small distressed noise, “Sweater?” he requested sleepily. 

Amused rather than annoyed, First Aid collected the garment from where it had been carefully stripped off when Sam had arrived and brought it back, watching as Sam bunched it up and curled his good arm around it. 

Sam was nearly asleep when he muttered, “Thanks ‘Aid, y’er the best.” And completely conked out. 

First Aid smiled, set up a small force field relay to keep Sam from rolling out of the bed should a seizure hit while he was asleep (the bed being flat to the desktop didn't really help if Sam fell the 10 feet to the ground below if he flailed too hard) and went about the tasks he still needed to complete during his shift. 

Chapter Text

Sam did, in fact, like the beach. Two days later found him squishing his toes in the sand, a large tent like sunshield propped carefully over him to keep him from frying like an egg on asphalt. It was warm, almost 90*F/32*C, hot enough that Will had leant Sam a pair of exercise shorts when Cliffjumper had revealed that he thought Sam might like some downtime in the Sun since Sam, like all humans, needed sunlight.

Will’s sour face and single finger salute just caused the big mech to chuckle. It probably wasn’t the wisest move with Sam’s incoming seizure, but Sam had jumped at the opportunity to get out again. Sam was pretty sure that that day wasn’t going to be seizure day anyway, he didn’t have any of the other pre-seizure symptoms he’d come to associate with the episodes: there wasn’t a sense of doom, he hadn’t smelled anything weird, nothing was stiff or tingly. He didn’t always have all of them, he sometimes had none of them, but by this point he was pretty in tune with his body enough to generally have a sense when it was going to betray him.

Cliffjumper was lounging in the sand next to Sam’s tent, taking a rare opportunity to use his solar cells, while Sam luxuriated on finally being warm. He hadn’t been really warm in months, not since the summer prior, and it was so nice that he wasn’t about to waste it. 

“So you never saw me on your Earth?” Cliffjumper asked.

Sam squinted at the ocean. They were on the west beach looking towards Africa which was a mind trip, before turning to look at Cliffjumper. “No.” He dithered for a second before wrapping his arms around his boney knees. “You…” He trailed off, not sure how to tell the mech himself what had happened to him. 

The lieutenant glanced at him before his optics shuttered slightly. “I died there, huh?”

Reluctantly, Sam nodded. “Shatter and Dropkick found you on a moon of Saturn. They wanted to know where Optimus was but you never said.” He added conciliatorily. “You defended Optimus till the end.”

The mech leaned back, helm supported by a boulder, the reason they had selected this specific section of beach to begin with. “Well, I guess there are worse ways to do it.” He vented. “Who else did you meet?”

Flexing his toes to the sound of seabirds, Sam hummed. “Optimus, Ironhide, Ratchet, Jazz and Bumblebee at first. Jazz…passed away, so I didn’t really get to know him well at all, but he seemed nice; I got to know the others a bit. Is Ratchet as…intimidating here?”

The red mech chuckled, seeming to reach his peace with the knowledge of his passing in Sam’s universe. “Yeah. He’s pretty rough around the edges, doesn’t take crap from anyone, but he’s honestly the best of the best in field medicine. He pioneered or developed hundreds of field repairs that saved so many of us. If I had to leave someone with a medic in the field I would choose Ratchet every time.”

Sam leaned over and grinned at the lieutenant conspiratorially. “He got high running into power lines outside of my house by accident when I first met him.” He revealed and grinned wider at the surprised look on Cliffjumper’s faceplates, a smile stretching his intake. “Honest! He even invited Ironhide to try it, which would have been bad because there were only so many electrical lines in the neighborhood.”

Cliffjumper laughed, vents cycling air like a bellows, “You think you know a ::Fragger::.” He chuckled. “But others came?”

Nodding, Sam looked at the waves. “Yeah. Skids and Mudflap were there but…really different. I like these ones much better. Jolt was there, and Sideswipe but no Sunstreaker, and Arcee…and her sisters.” He finished, subdued at the reminder of worse times before refocusing. “Though Jetfire had been around for…a while? He didn’t hear the call, he was just kind of here on some kind of ‘Seeker Mission’ that went awry that he was too glitchy to really explain. He said his Grandfather was a wheel.” 

The red mech blew a surprised whistle, “Jetfire? Really? Hard to imagine that guy as anything but calm, cool, and collected.” Cliffjumper said thoughtfully. 

Nodding, Sam shifted to the side slightly to move out of the gradual movement of the sun. “The one I met was not a super great example of Jetfire’s from my memories, he’d been energon depleted and crippled with rust, inert for decades until my AllSpark shard gave him a jolt to reactivate. He had a Decepticon logo on him too when I found him and that freaked me out, but he said he’d switched sides and I wasn’t going to judge someone for not wanting to harm me.” He laughed without humor. “I’d known that there were a lot of Decepticons who came to Earth between Optimus giving the call and finding Jetfire so I couldn’t be too careful. There were way more Decepticons than Autobots by that point.” Sam explained. “You know, the first Cybertronian I met that I knew was an alien was Barricade?”

Cliffjumper’s optics widened and he laughed, “That is weirdly kismet.”

Sam nodded, “Right? At least this time he didn’t introduce himself with a blaster to my face.” Sam snickered to himself, not seeing Cliffjumpers suddenly very concerned face but picking up the field impression. Sam waved it away, “He was looking for my grandpa’s glasses, I was just an obstacle. I kind of get it now. The current Barricade’s pretty alright, though.” He granted before a yawn forced its way out of his mouth.

They’d only been out there for an hour but Sam’s normal exhaustion and the heat were not exactly helping with any plans to stay awake for very long at all. Cliffjumper seemed to realize that and started getting up, holoform appearing to help Sam stand on wobbly knees before the sunshield rippled and disappeared, leaving Sam to be shepherded into the drivers side of the newly transformed mech. They were driving before Sam realized it and he leaned back to watch as the scenery passed them by. 

“It’s so different from Cybertron.” Sam muttered, trying to find similarities but the truth of the matter was that there weren’t many to be had.

Cliffjumper chuckled, “Alien, yes, but not displeasing.” He countered, “You’re probably as close as a human has ever been to visiting Cybertron, you know.”

Sam blinked his eyes awake, trying to stick with the conversation. “Really? I would have thought that some science team would have gone by now. ‘To boldly go where no man has gone before!*’”

[Negative] pressed over his fields, though [amusement] did with equal measure as Cliffjumper entered the base lobby and then to the already keyed up elevator. “Various governments have wanted to, but the truth of the matter is that even now Cybertron is really only a shell of what it once was. That and the lack of atmosphere and the inherent dangers of deep space mean the cons far outweigh the pros for it. Also, most of what they want to study isn’t even Cybertron specific, most people are interested in more general cosmic phenomena than ‘alien robots’.” Cliffjumper explained with mild disdain as the lift door opened and the duo pulled out. 

Humming, Sam frowned when he realized that they weren’t going to Will’s apartment, they were on the wrong floor. “Where’re we going?” He asked tiredly but with interest.

Cliffjumper was following a blue line on the floor below them. “Command Center. We can’t leave you unsupervised right now and Will and Epps are doing paperwork for the rest of the day so they can keep an eye on you. You should go to medical but they’re apparently doing a big surgery today and it’s all hands on deck.” He explained as he took another turn. 

Thoughtfully, Sam closed his eyes, face pressed into Cliffjumpers warm synth-leather. “Thought I didn’t have clearance.” He yawned, feeling sleep creeping up on him. 

The ride softened perceptibly before Cliffjumper responded. “You were given clearance with your new identity, I think that was finalized just before we arrived in Jasper. You’re Samuel James Witwicky Junior. Congrats.”

Perking up, Sam blinked at the dashboard with as much excitement as he could. “Does that mean I can get my manuscript back now?” He demanded, latching onto the most pertinent facts of the matter with single minded focus. 

[Affirmation][amusement] and [relief] slid over his fields. “I think a lot of people would be excited for you to do so, after you have some time to recover.” The mech stressed, finally slowing as they entered a large double height space. They hadn’t seen the Command Center on the 10¢ tour, but if they had Sam would have remembered it; the room was illuminated with a half light but the center of the room was taken up with Cybertronian data consoles, a number of the stations already filled with Cybertronians (Elita-1 was at one of the stations, Shock* and Ore* worked at others, Prowl was at the biggest in the center and Sam perked up seeing the Praxian for the first time in real life) while the human sized stations were in a multi-floor scaffolding structure with pods filled with analysts or whatever working diligently at the stations. Sam realized that while the floors were long, they were not deep, allowing for each floor to be accessible for a Cybertronian to speak with their human counterpart or vice versa easily. The only exception to this was the top most floor where Sam could see human sized offices with large windows and doors recessed into the walls to allow for some privacy for the occupants, which was where Sam imagined Will and Epps could be found.

Cliffjumper pulled up to an open air elevator system and popped open his door and his holoform appeared to help Sam up since his legs were still a bit wobbly. The look on Cliffjumpers holoform's face was hard to distinguish (there was this middle ground of emotions that were difficult to differentiate), Sam got the impression he might be more upset about Sam’s exhaustion and though he was dampening his fields might feel responsible for it. 

“I’m just tired, Cliffjumper. I really enjoyed hanging out at the beach, thank you.” Sam smiled up at the man who had elected a holoform a foot taller than Sam. Which still seemed unfair because even amongst Cybertronians Cliffjumper wasn’t exactly tall.

Somewhat mollified, Cliffjumper helped Sam to the elevator and up to the topmost floor of the human side of the office, Sam doing his best to ignore the curious looks that he was receiving from the humans and Cybertronians alike, before bringing him to an office with a little golden plaque on the door reading ‘Gen. Lennox’. The door opened as they arrived and a somewhat [relieved] feeling Will greeted them there. After looking at Sam in his shorts, shirt, and shoes, the older man gestured them in and Sam was pleased to see a big leather couch, not unlike the one in Will’s apartment, taking up a good chunk of real estate under the office window and was helped over to sit.

“Tired?” Will asked good naturedly. 

Yawning, Sam nodded, “It’s warm up there, haven’t been warm in forever.” He sighed, becoming a liquid once he was on the couch.

Snorting, Will turned to Cliffjumper. “Nothing interesting happened though, right?”

Cliffjumper shook his head. “Nah, most interesting thing was the patrol that drove by halfway through but no one did more than ping ‘hello’ before continuing on.” Sam had ‘heard’ the ping but not the contents. It was weird in many ways to be in the Guardian firewalls because it didn’t really mute everything, just made it all distant, like echoes in a far off room.

Nodding, Will went to an office credenza and opened a door to reveal a small refrigerator, pulling out a bottle of Gatorade and walking back over to Sam. “After you finish this I’ll let you take a nap, okay?” The man asked and Sam, who was more asleep than awake by that point, nodded if only reluctantly. Turning to Cliffjumper, Lennox smiled, “Thanks for keeping an eye on him.” He said softly.

Cliffjumper scoffed, giving Will a grin, “Of course. He’s ours now.” Before giving a jaunty and incredibly inaccurate salute, fritzing out into blue static and disappearing.

Rolling his eyes, Sam carefully opened the Gatorade (he’d mastered the technique when he’d broken his arm the first time and had never lost the skill) before drinking the green flavor, not exactly sure what it was meant to be. “Cliffjumper said I had gotten my security clearance and new identity.” He opened with. Without a conversation he wasn’t entirely sure he’d stay awake long enough to finish his drink. Will hadn’t given him a small Gatorade to finish. 

Will was already back behind his desk but didn’t look like he was too busy to talk with Sam, perching a pair of spectacles on his nose as he looked some papers over. “Yeah, Shock does solid work but I wanted Prowl to proof the packet. It used to be easier to mock one up but with an inheritance and your prior life being so high profile, I wanted to be careful.” He acknowledged before his face soured slightly. “Which is probably good, your cousin has already filed suit to force an inheritance review of your Will.” He admitted in that reluctant way one does handing out bad news they themselves don’t want to deal with.

Sam grimaced, stomach souring a little bit. “Didn’t take her long at all, did it?”

Shaking his head, Will pulled a paper in front of him and grabbed a pen. “No. She filed the brief the day the news was released of your passing. My momma would have called her ‘gauche’.” He admitted with a small grin before it faded. “Xaaron and his office have taken on the case, they’ll be handling it so you won’t have to worry. I’m sorry Sam.”

Shrugging, Sam waved it away. “I knew it was coming. I know that she had some stuff already open with the courts trying to get things from me but the publishers legal department dealt with it from part of my book sales. It sucked but it worked, mostly.” He explained, taking another swig of Gatorade before starting to shiver. While above it had been warm, below it was well air conditioned and a t-shirt and shorts weren’t doing him any favors. 

Glancing at Sam, Will pointed to the arm of the couch. “Blankets in a box there, do you need help grabbing it?”

Not being a baby, Sam shook his head, setting his drink down to wrangle the duvet out of an old file box and wrapped himself up like the Queen of Sheba before flopping onto the couch again. “Xaaron is gonna need a bonus when this is over. Bernice is…unbearable.” He decided on, kindly.

“From what I understand she’s a bullheaded piece of work with a lawyer that is looking for a huge payday. They keep filing things, she’s even suing to gain ownership of your intellectual property.” Will said in exasperation. “I can see why you went no contact.”

Grabbing his drink again, Sam sighed. “She was okay when we were kids. Dunno when that changed, but I had a lot going on so I’m not too surprised by that.” He revealed. “Did you get my moms picture and my typewriter?”

There was a pause before Will reached up and folded his glasses. “The typewriter is in pretty bad shape, and part of the picture was damaged in the blast.” He explained quietly. Sam went stock still, feeling ice grow in his stomach. “We’ve managed to source the same model of typewriter and it’s being maintenanced and will arrive sometime next week. We sent the damaged picture to a restorer who is putting it back together. The restorer assured us that it’s going to amount to only a small repair in replacement materials.” He tried to reassure Sam but Sam was…

Sam felt very, very small all of a sudden.

“It’s the only thing I have left of her, of them.” He whispered, clutching the drink tighter. “Everything else is just…everything is gone now.” He realized. 

Will, seeing Sam’s distress, stood and joined him on the couch, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and pulling Sam against his side. “Your parents aren’t a picture, Sam. It’s painful to feel like you’re disconnected from your past, to lose a tether to a better time, but all that they were now lives on in you.” He said, arm warm and solid around Sam’s slim shoulders. “So long as you’re here, which from the looks of it will be for a good long while, they will be here with you in spirit.” He said, tapping above Sam’s heart with his fingertips. “The picture can be salvaged, you may never even see the damage, but their most precious legacy is not finishing his Gatorade.” The man poked, surprising a laugh out of Sam. 

Taking a sip, Sam glanced up at Will. “You must have been a good dad.” He decided.

Jerking a little in surprise, Will’s face turned pained. “It definitely didn’t feel like it at the time.” He sighed. “Anna had some mixed feelings when she was in her teens but I always tried to do right by her.”

Sam rested his head on Will’s shoulder. “I think my dad was pretty disappointed in me by the time he passed. I’d just…I’d changed so much because I was so crazy that I don’t think he saw me anymore. I think he saw years of care he knew he wasn’t going to be there for and it…I think I disappointed him.” Sam admitted.

Settling back, Will ran his hand through Sam’s hair. “It’s hard having someone you love hurt, physically or mentally. My elder brother got cancer when I was about seven and it was really hard on everyone. He went in for dozens of treatments and surgeries before he died when I was twelve. As a kid I resented it, but now? Having had a daughter and grandchildren and great grandchildren? If I had been in your fathers shoes I would have been heartbroken to realize I wouldn’t be there to take care of you when you needed me.” The older man reframed for Sam. “The greatest fear for a parent is that we won’t be able to help our children when they need us the most.”

It wasn’t like he had ever stopped grieving. You don’t just stop one day, with time other things took priority and focus, the pain may dull, but it wasn’t like Sam had ever stopped feeling the pain of their passing. “I was supposed to take care of them when they got older. That’s…that’s how that is supposed to work in families.”

The hand in his hair carded through it distractingly and Will hummed against his skull. “Sam, you weren’t well enough to take care of yourself, and your illness wasn’t your fault. It’d be like my parents blaming James for having cancer. It’s just a thing that happened. Illness just happens sometimes. There is no blame to be had. Your parents loved you, they sacrificed so much to try to help you and were happy to do so: your parents original Will was written to protect you, provide for you, care for you after they were gone.”

Sam made a noise of surprise, “What?” He asked, looking up at Will in shock.

Nodding, Will continued to run his hand through Sam’s hair. “Xaaron got a copy of it during the preliminary discovery process with the State of California. Your parents had a trust in place with their assets set aside for your care. There were investments and care orders. None of which was respected. Any competent court would have seen what was happening and called it abuse. Your parents tried to care for you even when they weren’t there as best they could but trusted the wrong person.”

Sam felt a little hitching sob catch in his chest. “They did?”

After…everything, Sam had been so happy to be free that he just hadn’t looked into anything having to do with his parents Will. He didn't want to admit that he'd failed make living with Bernice work even though he knew it wasn't his fault. It was hard. His brain was barely functioning for his day to day life, let alone anything on top of that. He didn’t know what he’d thought his parents had actually tried to do for him, only what had happened to him. It was easier to not think that they hadn’t prepared fully - his mom wasn’t known for being the most…robust of planners, and his dad had already been gone for years at that point.

Humming, Will tapped the bottle to remind Sam to drink which he did automatically. “They did. Xaaron explained it was a very well thought out and holistic preparational document for your care had it been with an executor that could be trusted. And at that point Bernice hadn’t given any indication that she wouldn’t be, she had some overdrawn accounts but nothing extravagant. He’s taken a personal interest in Bernice and her family at this point and is angrier than a hornets nest disturbed by a lawnmower. I have a feeling Bernice just bit off a lot more than she can chew with this one.” He said reassuringly. “Xaaron can be extremely petty and spiteful when he wants to be.” He revealed with a small smirk.

Still somewhat flabbergasted by the revelation about the Will and his parents, Sam didn’t know what to say so he just drank his Gatorade. 

Sensing Sam being overwhelmed, Will was quiet until Sam dazedly finished his drink. Pulling the empty bottle from his hand, Will set it on the table before efficiently moving Sam up onto the couch proper and settling him comfortably on the lux surface. The cushions felt like memory foam. “Take a nap, Sam. I think you need one.” The man said, pushing the long unkempt hair gently out of his eyes.

Nodding, Sam closed his eyes, arm carefully supported by the blanket. After Will went to his desk, Sam shifted. “Thanks, Will.”

He couldn’t see the smile Will made, but he could feel it in his voice when he responded. “Of course Sam. Now sleep.”

Sam was way ahead of him on that. 

------------------------------

Waking up was slow. Sam couldn’t complain about the amount of sleep he was getting - to go from nightmares several times a night to solid sleep? He didn’t know who exactly was listening to prayers here but he had definitely been handed off to an over eager intern in the last few weeks because it was the most sleep he’d gotten in literal years, possibly decades. But, he was also out of the habit of sleeping well, so waking up after having done so was…difficult. Still, he muzzily rejoined the land of the living to hear Will at the door to the office, quietly arguing with someone(s) outside the door, yet still loud enough from their fields to rouse Sam from a dead sleep.

“I know that you’re usually here for the afternoon nap, but not this afternoon.” Will was softly speaking to the other person at the door and given the context clues Sam was pretty sure he know who it was at Will’s door.

The little grumpy voice on the other side of the door just confirmed it. “But I want Sam to meet Rumble!” Frenzy hissed and Sam frowned thoughtfully. 

Rumble was a bit of a mystery to Sam. While Frenzy was more of a known quantity at this point, Rumble…wasn’t. He was so different in so many universes that the pertinent facts to this universe's Rumble were that: Frenzy loved him very much, that Rumble was quiet and didn’t pay attention to much going on, and that according to Frenzy he really liked Gundams*. Like, a lot. 

Dragging himself into full consciousness with a groan and wiggling a little bit to sit up vertically. Well, mostly, he was more tangled up in the blanket than he had anticipated and had to flap his chicken wing a bit to free himself more. 

This, unfortunately, was well noted and despite Will’s best efforts, Frenzy was in the office between one blink and the next, scrambling up on Sam’s good side and plastering himself there. “Sam!” He cooed happily, before taking Sam’s hand and giving a little tug, light enough that Sam was impressed with his delicacy given his obvious excitement. “Sam, come meet Rumble!” He gushed. 

Still sleepy, Sam met Will’s annoyed gaze but just shrugged as he was dragged vertically and drawn to the door where Will sighed and pulled the door open to reveal…well, a carbon copy of Frenzy.

Except…that wasn’t quite right. 

While they looked the same, Sam could immediately tell that there was something quite different about the little holoform that locked his gaze at Frenzy and Sam’s middles, who shied away from Will though he didn’t appear to dislike the man. Something in Sam softened, and he carefully knelt down to be more of a height with the smaller form, though he didn’t try to catch the mech’s eyes as they skittered to the side, focusing on his twin's holoform. 

“Hello Rumble. My name is Sam. I am very happy to meet you.” Sam said clearly, not attempting to touch Rumble but keeping his fields open and pleasant. Will’s face let Sam know that he wasn’t entirely hopeful that the interaction was going to be good, but Sam figured the worst he could do was not offend the little Cassette. “Frenzy tells me that you like Gundam. What is your favorite Gundam series?”

Frenzy looked excitedly between the two and Rumble’s face scrunched up, thoughtful, before flickering to Sam’s clavicle and then looking away again. Sam would have been fine with that level of interaction, but was surprised when Rumble took a small step forward, hands pressing together in front of him, and looked at Frenzy. “The Dark Prince*.” He stated, voice with little affectation. 

Still, Sam was incredibly familiar with this behavior and settled more comfortably on the floor. “I am afraid I don’t know that one. I saw Gundam Wing when I was a kid, and I saw Mobile Suit Gundam a bit later. Would you like to tell me about The Dark Prince while I sit on the couch?” He asked clearly.

Rumble was quiet for a moment, considering, before he nodded and Will looked surprised as Sam carefully stood up and went to sit down on the couch again, Frenzy plastering himself to Sam’s side while Rumble knelt on the ground in front of the coffee table and started explaining what Gundam: The Dark Prince was about with no more prompting. He clearly didn’t really care much for the characters, but he went into great detail about the various technology and Gundam’s in the series and the battle strategies that were utilized in every episode, spending a lot of time focusing on the realism of the tactics or how unlikely they were.

For many people, the rundown of facts and opinions would have been tedious. The Gundam franchise was a Japanese military science fiction media franchise that had been ongoing for nearly a century at this point, but Sam found himself charmed by the little bots quiet enthusiasm. It also wasn’t like Sam couldn’t add to the conversation, he was, in fact, uniquely suited to Rumble’s interest in battle strategy and was even able to offer the mech some insight that he didn’t have in regards to certain battle strategies that he’d started using his holo-emitter to illustrate.

“The terrain here is why they focused on the…Rodion* Strategy.” Sam said thoughtfully, noting the cliff face from the episode that Rumble was explaining. Rodion was a small City State on Cybertron that had quickly fallen after Vos had for this very scenario. “You see the difference in the high ground and low ground? This would typically dictate that the low ground military would be at a disadvantage, and they are, until you get to the cliff base. The cliff face isn’t flat, it’s concave, which gives them the protection they need to attack under complete cover, especially with the Tracker Rounds that you were talking about. This is why the Decepticons were able to decimate the Autobot forces in the area, because there was no cover for them at the top of the cliff and the further back they went the more damage they took.” He hummed thoughtfully, remembering the battle. “In the end, there was no place to hide when the Seekers arrived, or the Carrier Plane* in this case.” Sam said, tapping at the clear projections thoughtfully.

Rumble’s eyes drifted up, locking on Sam’s face, but Sam didn’t turn from the optical display. It would have been unwise, considering how carefully interactions with Rumble, at this stage anyway, would have to be. 

Sam wondered how on Earth Soundwave had been convinced to let this particular little mech out of his sight on a distant world. Now that Sam knew which flavor of Rumble he was dealing with, he also knew of Soundwaves Cassettes that Rumble was the one that Soundwave doted on the most. 

The soft wave of [happiness] that tickled along his own fields from the little mech was a pleasant surprise. Sam, just as carefully, sent his own back and was amused to see Rumble look away, clearly embarrassed. 

Will was looking at them like a bomb about to explode and Frenzy was only this side of exploding with excitement. It was probably an hour and half or so later when Will cleared his throat, catching their attention. “Alright, that’s enough for today. Frenzy, I know you have work to still do and I know Rumble has some time with Prowl coming up. Sam and I are going to go grab lunch, so we’ll see you guys later, alright?”

Immediately, Frenzy turned to Sam with big blue optics (Sam was absolutely sure that Frenzy had messed with the sittings of his holoform because they’d grown into the uncanny valley of human eyes) but Sam just raised his hands in defeat. “I am not your ‘get out of work free’ card, Frenzy.” He joked, giving Frenzy a small squeeze with his good arm. While Frenzy was radiating [displeasure], Sam could also feel [disappointment] from Rumble. “Thank you very much for telling me about The Dark Prince, Rumble. I liked talking about it with you. I would like to talk more about the series later, and maybe the other series you like.” He said clearly, sending the small mech a brush of [affection] as a conclusion.

Rumble shyly nodded, glancing above Sam’s clavicle this time before reaching over to grab Frenzy’s hand and squeezing it. Frenzy, instead of arguing, simply held his twin's hand and stood up, pulling Rumble with him before tugging Rumble behind him to the door. “Eat well Sam! If you want any more candy, I think I saw something new in the main office.” He gushed. 

Will, for his part, narrowed his eyes. “That better be something you are buying, Frenzy.” He said pointedly and Frenzy just sent the General a shit eating grin before cackling and leaving the room, rumble carefully closing it behind them.

There was a quiet after that little tornado that Will breathed a loud sigh into and leveled a glance at Sam. “That actually went far better than I anticipated it going. Rumble doesn’t really like anyone except his brother and Soundwave.” He said thoughtfully. "He sometimes gets violent about it."

Wrapping the blanket a little tighter around his shoulders, Sam nodded. “He’s got a processor issue.” Sam explained thoughtfully, “It looks, and behaves, a lot like autism. I spent years in facilities with people with low functioning autism - it gets a bad rep because it’s difficult to adjust to if you aren’t on spectrum, but it’s mostly fine so long as you know how to communicate with the people with it.”

Will frowned, “There are Autistic Cybertronians?” He asked in confusion.

Sam shrugged, “Well, yeah. The underlying Cybertronian thought patterns aren’t all that different from us in some ways. There were millions of protoform developers building billions of protoforms over millions of years, and some things worked better than others. Rumble and Frenzy were specially developed for certain tasks, but the things they’re best at also have overlap with certain behavioral differences from a neurotypical processor. Frenzy is all about novel experiences and high energy output but Rumble is about pattern recognition and analysis, as illustrated by his obsession with battle strategy from a cartoon. ADHD and Autism.” Sam explained, lifting one hand for each type. "Prowl, with his logic circuit, is actually pretty similar to Rumble in some respects. They get along, don't they?"

Will folded his arms thoughtfully. "They don't like each other, but they do get along better with each other than they do with most anyone else." Will admitted.

Nodding, Sam tapped his thumb on his knee. "Both of their builds are designed to assess complex information and develop strategies to augment or counter strategies developed with them. The war would have burnt out their other focuses in order to provide resource availability. I am glad that Rumble found something to obsess on that is...relatively innocuous. An entirely fictional scenario. Cybertronians don't, as a culture, have pure fiction. All of their stories have at least a basis in fact." Sam explained.

Leaning back in his chair, Will made a thoughtful sound. “That’s better than ‘spaz’ and ‘misanthrope’ I guess.” 

At lunch, Sam and Will were joined by Barricade and Epps, Cliffjumper appearing not long after to bracket Sam into the bench at the table and obscure him from casual observers which caused Sam to relax some. 

With Sam’s newfound knowledge about Cybertronian and human relations, he was pretty sure that either Will or Epps were likely to have been or were currently in a relationship with a Cybertronian but he wasn’t quite sure how to ask. He was still on the fence in regards to the proposed treatment plan because…well, at it’s base, he was pretty embarrassed by the thought of…you know, sexy times at all. It was pretty stupid, one might even say juvenile, that he was this squeamish about the idea of intimacy but…

It wasn’t something that he’d even thought of since he’d come here. This world here, not this island here. He couldn’t think of a single instance in the last 60 years where he’d been attracted to anyone at all. When he’d been 17 in his own world, a stiff breeze and the scent of Bath and Body Works could get him going, it had on an embarrassing number of occasions, but here? Nada. ‘Nocturnal Emissions’ had been his unwelcome companion for decades when the meds he’d been on hadn’t completely interfered with his bodies ability to produce anything. 

Not that he wanted to explain that to anyone, not even First Aid, but it was…different now. 

Because…well, the thing he hadn’t been feeling since he’d arrived on this world for humans? It was…starting to crop up for certain Cybertronians. Nothing skeevy, but…Barricade’s Thoraxal Cavity* and Chassis* were very well formed. And Cliffjumpers neck cables were interesting. Things that Sam hadn’t noticed that he’d been noticing about the Cybertronians suddenly started to take notice. Primus help him, he’d even started noticing how delicate and capable First Aid’s servos were as they’d tended to his arm. Not to mention the holoforms. 

It was confusing and he wasn’t really sure how to navigate it. The usual Witwicky response would be to bottle this all up and literally never deal with it until he died but current circumstances being what they are, that seemed like a pretty negative solution.

He’d been thinking about it since his conversation with First Aid days ago, and he wasn’t really much closer to a conclusion. Sam was also running out of time, he’d be having a seizure in the not so distant future and he…well.

He didn’t want to release his ::Zeph:: energy in an uncontrolled manner. He hadn’t, not since…not since San Diego and…

Toast.

“Hey, you okay?” Cliffjumper asked and Sam realized he’d stopped eating and was more aggressively mixing his mac and cheese and sloppy joe ‘meat’.

Blinking, he frowned. “I need to find a safe place to have my seizure.” He realized. He wasn’t ready to explore what 'overcharging' with someone else looked like under a time crunch, he wasn’t sure if he was even if there wasn’t one, and the idea that he could have a seizure and…god, he didn’t want to create another sparkling just to have them die in his arms again. 

The table went quiet for a second, before Will leaned closer to give the illusion of privacy. “Did you have…a talk with First Aid?” Will asked and Sam suddenly realized that it wasn’t just Remedy who was aware of what First Aid had suggested. 

Flushing from above his nose to his toes, Sam hunched a little. “You know?” He asked, mortified.

Epps tapped the table. “Sam, man, it’s okay. If you want a safe spot, we gotchu.” He said, drawing Sam’s attention. “You think it’s gonna happen soon?”

Still embarrassed, shrugged. “It’s…hard to say, but usually I have like, aura’s beforehand. Or, you know, symptoms. It's like, sensory hallucinations, smells and tastes and sounds, and the feeling of doom is pretty normal.” He tapped on the table, his stomach tight with anticipation. “It’ll probably be tomorrow, the doom and gloom usually hits when I wake up and makes the rest of the day feel pretty crappy.” He muttered. “I need to be…not here. There’s too much…there is technology here and I don’t want…” He trailed off, trying to explain without talking about his greatest failure.

Epps looked at Will over Sam’s head and something passed between them before Epps leaned against Barricade’s shoulder and saying something into the holoforms ear which wasn’t necessary because like, the holoforms entire form was an ear? 

Whatever it was, Barricade nodded and Sam saw the mechs metal form begin to drive off. Turning back to Sam, Epps smiled at him. “Hey, we’re gonna go get a disaster relief tent set up on the South Beach, its the furthest from anything and still pretty nice. A great exercise for our newbies. Emergency preparedness is incredibly important!” Epps said with an not altogether evil grin.

Sam almost felt sorry for the recruits if the overwhelming sense of relief hadn’t taken over. “Thank you.” He managed to get out.

Wrapping his arm around Sam’s shoulders, Will gave him a squeeze. “Don’t worry about it Sam, we’ve got you. I’ll speak with the medical team after food and we’ll get it sorted.”

Which turned out to be a slightly hopeful view on the whole matter. 

“He’s going to need to be under strict medical supervision for the episode and a rustic tent in the middle of the beach, twenty minutes from the delicate instruments we’ll need, is a terrible idea.” Remedy stated when Sam, Will, Epps and Barricade arrived at the med bay after lunch. 

Sam, who realized that this was actually going to be a problem, wished that they’d stopped at Will’s apartment for pants and a sweater because he was starting to shiver again now that he wasn’t moving or eating hot food. Unpleasant conversations about his care were usually awful without the complication of being cold. 

First Aid, who was helping to catalog the current supplies against what was used for Blast Off’s surgery, glanced down at them with narrowed optics. “With Sam’s condition and his ::Zeph:: scores right now, allowing him have a seizure anywhere but within a specialized medical facility could have grave consequences.”

Folding his arms, Sam looked around the bay at the hundreds of medical machines and instruments, many of which did not meet the ‘pre-1930’s’ technological requirement that had kept him from creating another disaster in the years since Toast.

“I can’t have it here.” Sam said, looking around. “I would…my seizures have consequences.” He said, looking up at First Aid imploringly. “I can’t do that again.”

Remedy looked puzzled but First Aid understood, coming over and crouching next to the humans, “Sam, you’re in a much more delicate state than you were in Washington. A bad seizure could kill you without the appropriate medical intervention.” He explained delicately. 

“But I wouldn’t kill anyone else.” Sam argued and First Aid’s optics narrowed slightly while Remedy’s widened. 

She looked between them, “Why would your seizure kill someone?” She asked, though her optics were on First Aid and Sam realized that she didn’t know.

First Aid looked around the med bay before venting loudly, looking at the other medic with considering optics before looking down at Sam. “Is it alright if I explain it to Remedy?”

Not wanting to talk about it at all, but realizing it was the only way forward, Sam nodded, folding his arms around himself. First Aid, looking Sam over, materialized a warmed parka on him before turning to the smaller and older medic. “Sam’s ::Zeph:: discharge has, in the past, released enough AllSpark energy to convert human technology into an incomplete protoform and sparkling. They were non-viable. Sam, understandably, would like to not repeat the experience.” The medic explained succinctly.

To Remedy, however, First Aid might as well have been reading the Covenant of Primus* as her optics both widened and swung to Sam, who shrank under her gaze. “A ::Sparkling::?” She asked, her fields in complete disarray loud enough to cause Sam, Will, and Epps to wince. 

“::Commander::.” Barricade barked, causing her to freeze before obviously tampering down her response. Sam wanted to be anywhere but here and if they weren’t already talking about his seizure disorder and weren’t in a super advanced alien clinic he might have considered pretending to have one just to get out of this particular situation. It had worked well enough in the past, but a scanner would ruin the attempt he was pretty sure.

Still, Remedy’s optics were locked on Sam and while he couldn’t hear what she was saying across the ::Communication Network::, he could guess the jist of it. “They died.” He finally stated. “I can’t do that again. I’d rather be the one to die if I have to choose.” He declared.

Sighing, First Aid rubbed his intake before looking around. “There are, admittedly, too many potential protoforms in the medical bay.” He finally concluded. 

Remedy still looked like she was caught on ‘Sparkling’ and would be for a while, the [reverence] coming off her making Sam incredibly uncomfortable. “I’ve been worse and survived okay.” He tried to explain. “I know survive is a low bar to hop over here, but…please. I just…I can’t.”

Cycling air across his vents, First Aid nodded. “Move the tent to the south of the old Brit Club. There’s a clear beach there; if something happens I can be in the medical bay in 5 minutes.” He finally settled on. 

“First Aid--” Remedy butted in. 

He turned to her, “I would, of course, welcome your assistance in this matter. You would be an incredible asset for Sam’s care.”

The older minicon looked at Sam, at First Aid, and at the rest of the small group before venting harshly. “Well, I suppose if we’re both present.” She huffed, before setting her servos on her hip struts. “And don’t think you’re off the hook for not telling me.” She groused at First Aid, optics narrowed threateningly.

First Aid’s calm expression was at odds with his level of sarcasm. “Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Chapter Text

‘The best-laid schemes o' mice an' men / Gang aft agley’. Robert Burns, the Scottish poet, wrote in his 1785 poem ‘To a Mouse, on Turning Her Up in Her Nest with the Plough’. Many people are much more familiar with the reworked version, as it is in current English: ‘The best laid plans of mice and men often go awry’. 

The morning itself had started off on a dour note, to be fair. Well, not in and of itself, but as Will awoke from his sleep, yawning and bleary eyed himself as he carefully shifted Sam to slip his pillow into Sam’s arms like he did almost every morning for the last couple of weeks, Sam roused slightly and wrinkled his nose. “Iz something burnin’?” He mumbled, eyes struggling to open at the five o’clock awakening. 

There was quiet for a moment before Sam felt the bed dip as Will sat down on the edge of the bed again, hand pushing Sam’s willful bush of hair from his eyes. “Sam, do you smell something burning?” He asked, tone calm and even in spite of the possibility his base was on fire.

Grunting, Sam nodded, “My head hurts.” He realized in confusion aloud and Will breathed out a slow, even breath at that announcement.

Kind of like Lamaz, Sam thought groggily. Will ran his hand through Sam’s hair and that helped so Sam leaned into it, feeling gross for reasons other than just waking up from sleep. “Okay, Sam. Do you think that these are the Aura’s that you were talking about?” Will asked quietly.

It took a minute for Sam to understand what Will was saying, but when the words made sense Sam felt his stomach drop about three feet through the bed and then fall the rest of the way to the kitchen floor below. “Oh God.” Sam whispered, face falling into Will’s pillow below his cheek. 

Humming, Will continued to sooth Sam with a hand in his hair as he picked up his cellphone from the side table and called someone. “Hey, Sam and I just woke up and he’s got some Aura action going on. I think it’d be a good idea to start migrating to the beach camp ASAP.” He said quietly into the receiver, concerned that sound sensitivity was going to be another worry.

Panicking, Sam shortly after felt the soft presence of First Aid settle against his rabbiting mind and sooth him the same as Will, careful and warm and Sam pressed his face into the pillow hard. ‘::Sam, sweet spark, you’re alright.::’ First Aid informed him compassionately. 

Sam just shook his head under Will’s hand with despair, “No, it’s gonna hurt.” He whined and Sam could feel the two of them pressing [safety] and [care] and [affection] to him, First Aid cradling his mind in his warmth like he had when Sam had first onlined. 

“We’ll get you through Sam.” Will murmured quietly, and Sam realized that the doom sense was slowly prickling along his periphery like pins and needles, and yet somehow worse. 

To say that Sam was uncoordinated on a good day was an understatement; he was pale skin and knobby knees and a body too big for being so small. Still, he clung to the railing leading down to the first floor like he was sure that the floor was going to reach up and grab him, Will in front and ready to catch him until he had the cool concrete below his feet once more. 

“Is the tent set up?” Sam asked. No, wait, stupid, he knew the tent was set up. He remembered but it was ephemeral, slipping through his mental fingers even as he grasped for it. But he had seen the tent, Cliffjumper and Barricade, along with Will, Sam, and First Aid had inspected it the evening before. Remedy following a long at a speedy but more sedate pace, the road free of traffic at the time. The tent, well, structure, was set up and the area around it cleared of any hazards like sticks and logs and rocks because, as Sam uncomfortably admitted, sometimes he ‘got antsy’ before a seizure hit and he needed to move even if it was just pacing. A log could trip him and well…

The beach had been cleared. The tent was ready. He had a medical team. He remembered that and he was…he was more ready than he had been in decades but at the same time more afraid than he had been in decades too. He wasn't in control of this like he was used to. Before, he'd been alone for so long that he had just accepted that what happened would happen because he had no control over it but now? He was scared.

‘::Just breath, sweetling. I'm just around the corner. I will be with you soon.::’ First Aid soothed and Sam wanted his Guardian so much right that second. ‘::I know, little spark. I will have you in just a moment.::’

“I hate this. I…I get so nervous, before…you know, a big one hits.” Sam admitted, hand shoved into the front pockets of his yellow sweater while the other twitched in it’s brace. He’d told them that before, hadn’t he? He felt like he had. “I’m getting confused, a little. It makes me more nervous.”

A warm hand settled on his back, fingers scratching that one spot that no person could quite reach on themselves. “The packet that First Aid gave me mentioned that. Was it like this before in the valley, though?” Will asked leadingly and Sam didn't even notice the distraction for what it was. 

Leaning into the hand, Sam raised a hand to rub at his tired eyes, “You didn't see a real one. I had one triggered by a panic attack and a bad dream, adrenalin spikes, you know? It triggers them prematurely sometimes. Like…flashy lights. Emotional flashy lights.” He babbled a little and then the roller door was opening and Sam swung big, whiskey eyes to the medic who stood there and Sam didn't even wait for his holoform to appear, he just jerkily ran to First Aid who knelt in surprise to catch his Spark Touched ward as he fell into his servos. 

Will, from the couch, caught the surprised eyes of the medic and gave him a sad smile. “He's scared.” He low voiced, loud enough for First Aid to hear but not Sam who had taken the opportunity to slot his hands and toes into the ‘safe’ panels on the medics chassis, the ones that couldn't pinch delicate human digits which First Aid was surprised to realize that Sam knew, and pressed close to the medics spark chamber. It was…intimate, but not unwanted, the AllSpark energy pulsing sweetly against his own blue spark this closely. 

Adjusting his hold, treating the human like spun glass filament, First Aid stood and…kind of understood the appeal of the human preoccupation with holding their young so, he felt every breath of the little human against his plates and the warmth across his sensor array. He placed his free servo against Sam's back and felt the tension, sensed the anxiety and fear there just as he felt it against his array, but the physical manifestation of those feelings was…different. Informative, in ways that his patients and his kind weren't. 

Something of that must have come across to Sam because the small Spark Touched slowly softened against him, his anxiety lessening cradled in the mech's hold. The loop of [affection][support][care] helped Sam's tired body and he didn't care that First Aid was all hard metal against his own bony body, because even with doom looming he felt safe. 

Also, it wasn’t the first time he'd curled up against a hard body before. 

Their moment gave Will time to ascend the staircase and change out of his own pajamas, pulling on his tactical gear instead of his normal dress uniform. By the time Will was finished, First Aid had calmed Sam down enough to set the younger man down, holoform appearing and helping Sam to sit on the couch while First Aid's larger form unsubspaced a bottle of blue Gatorade, having noticed that Sam preferred one color to another*.

“Take some sips. You need the hydration but your stomach is going to be delicate with nerves.” First Aid explained to Sam, though Sam didn't look surprised by this information. For the record, Sam wasn't, he'd been getting the same warning since he was five from his mother but the parallel was nice. 

Sam closed his eyes and sat there. “It's not usually this scary.” He admitted. “The doom is normal…but it’s…” He frowned, trying to substantiate that information but specific instances became harder and harder to recall.

First Aid knelt down, the holoform comfortably at Sam's side as Will grabbed a couple of protein bars from the cabinet, usually meant for Sam, and got ready to go as First Aid caught Sam's attention. “You've had a lot of changes since the last one. It's not surprising it's feeling more intense this time. But you'll have your medical team and our support team with you the whole time. You'll be as safe as you can be.” 

Which Sam knew. The doom sensation was the worst because nothing ever happened but it always felt like Megatron breathing down his neck, or Scalpel at his ankle. “It's just more intense.” He repeated, trying to calm down from where he was slowly ratcheting up. “I'm okay. I'm okay. I'm just anxious, but I'm okay.” Sam repeated, falling back on the old manifesting technique his mom and several medical professionals had used with him over the years. “I’m okay.” He stated as the memory of those people faded into the void.

Will and First Aid shared a look over Sam's head before their own, far weaker bond flared, passing [support] and [concern] and directions between the two of them. 

“Sam, let's grab your shoes, huh?” Will interrupted his thoughts and Sam blinked up at the General and nodded, because Will generally knew what to do. At least, when Sam didn't. 

“Shoes. Yes. Grab my shoes.” He frowned, looking around. He usually left them by the door at the cabin. But they weren't at the cabin anymore, were they. They were someplace else. Had he left them at the door here? 

First Aid petted Sam's hair. “Sam? Do you know where your shoes are?” The medic asked calmly and non-judgmentally when he noticed Sam’s expression blossoming into confusion at the directive.

After a moment, Sam shook his head with a befuddled frown. “I set them by the…door?” He asked more than stated. The door had a pair of sneakers but not his boots. “I don't know where I left my boots.” He finally admitted after a minute, looking around at the rest of the apartment but it was a bit like he was seeing the barren interior for the first time all over again.

Will pinched him a smile. “That's okay, why don't we try your sneakers for now? We'll find your boots later.” He nudged and Sam nodded with relief. Will would figure it out, Will knew what to do.

“Yeah. Sneakers.” He nodded, slowly standing up even though his body staggered slightly. It also brought some spots to his eyes. Once his vision cleared, he looked up, up, up at the big mech. “My head hurts.” He admitted reluctantly to First Aid.

Nodding, Sam felt the tell tale tingle of a scan and welcomed it, the sensation both novel and familiar. “How are your auras?” First Aid asked, holoform hand gentle under Sam's elbow as he led him towards the chair where Will usually dropped his items. 

Frowning, Sam thought about it. “I smell burning things. It’s like, industrial? Rubber? It’s gross. My stomach hurts.” He frowned at that realization. “I'm…kind of confused. I know I'm not home but…I'm…I'm on an island? Right?” He asked, a fluttering memory like a butterfly in his periphery. 

First Aid nodded, sending Will a calming look at the General’s conflicted one. “Yes. We're on Diego Garcia.” He explained calmly. “We’re in General Lennox’s apartment. We’re going somewhere to prepare for the day.”

Sam perked up immediately. “Where's Bumblebee?” He asked, face breaking out in a wide smile, turning his gaze towards the still open roller door as if expecting his friend to roll up with a jaunty honk at any moment. 

Instead of breaking Sam's heart, or causing him any additional distress, First Aid just smiled and continued to lead Sam to the chair. “He had to go on a mission. He's trying to get back, but he might be a while.” He explained gently. 

Sam frowned, expression falling. “Oh. He’s on a mission. I miss him.” He told First Aid and Will as he finally reached the door, sitting down on the overburdened chair and pulling the sneakers on with a familiarity his earlier denial of ownership belied. “Is he with Optimus? Optimus was Bumblebee’s Guardian when he was a temple protector at the Simfur temple with the AllSpark*.” He explained to the two proudly. “Cliffjumper was too. Cliff tried to get Bee into trouble but Bee knew what he was up to.” He grinned, a story that Bee has told him through sound clips lining up with a visual memory of the act in his mind, distracting him from his body's pains.

Will helped Sam with the last of the lacing as Sam had gotten too distracted by the talk of Bee to finish. “Yeah, that sounds like Cliff.” He joked. “Okay Sam, let's get you up. We're going to the tent, get you comfortable until you have your seizure.” The General’s expression was supportive and kind, but Sam could see that something had spooked the General which…seemed impossible. Will didn’t really get spooked, did he? He must, he was human, but Sam couldn’t say he’d ever seen it himself. But the curiosity slipped when he concentrated on what the man had said.

Frowning, Sam pressed his hand to his head. “Oh yeah. I think I'm confused.” He apologized to them, letting Will pull him through the rolling door as First Aid's mech form preceded them and transformed into his ambulance form as they waited for the door to roll to a close. “Where’s my Gatorade?” He frowned, hadn’t he had one?

Will, glancing back to the coffee table, handed Sam off to First Aid's holoform to jog back and grab it before the door rolled too low. “I got it Sam.” 

Sam smiled when Will came back, this time through the door in the rolling door, handing Sam the bottle before hooking around to the driver's side as First Aid finagled Sam into his cab, seat belt locking around Sam securely. Sam, for his part, was struggling with the cap, chicken wing flapping cutely as First Aid started forward.

“What do you usually do when you're going to have a seizure?” Will asked, surprising Sam who swung his gaze on the General like a deer in the headlights.

Turning and looking out the window at the hall passing them, Sam frowned. His brain felt like molasses, but Will’s request at least made sense. “I usually read. I lose time, you know? I can get confused, sometimes. But I've read all of my books so many times I can pick up anywhere and it doesn't matter. Not like I'll notice.” He chuckled self-deprecatingly.

The look Will had on his face caused Sam to frown. “It's okay, Will. I'm okay.” He reached over, clumsily patting the man's forearm on the steering wheel, thighs holding his forgotten bottle. “I'm gonna be okay. You guys are here.” He nodded. “You keep me safe.” He stated with conviction.

Reaching over, Will took Sam's hand and gave it a squeeze. “Yeah. We keep you safe.” He repeated, before pointing at the Gatorade bottle held in between Sam's thighs. “You wanna take a sip? Or is your stomach still hurting?”

Frowning, Sam carefully opened the bottle. “I'm going to be bad about drinking, just so you know. I forget that I'm thirsty when I'm like this.” He said in a moment of lucidly.

If the juxtaposition caused issue, Will didn’t show it and Sam sleepily leaned his head back against the headrest in the cab and sipped his Gatorade as they ascended the elevator to an otherwise seemingly abandoned base. It was still early, nearly an hour before standard shift change, and the Sun was only lightening to sky in the east, giving a light blue glow to everything. There were strategic staff, including a particularly notable green mech sitting at a medium sized Cybertronian desk looking over a terminal readout.

Sam grinned, almost forgetting about everything when seeing him. “Hey! That’s Springer!” He chortled, before turning to Will. “He’s a Triple Changer. He almost shot Optimus once*!” He giggled at the memory. “Ultra Magnus thought…he thought Optimus was a spy! But he wasn’t.” He nodded. “He’s a good dude.” Sam stated, before the memory flitted away, leaving Sam both surprisingly free of thought while flashes of other memories danced just out of reach.

That Sam didn’t notice Will’s amused smile wasn’t surprising as he leaned his forehead against the clear aluminum glass that were the windows of First Aid’s doors. First Aid’s soft presence in his mind, warm and comforting, had Sam almost asleep again by the time the ambulance pulled off the smooth as glass road and onto soft sand where other Cybertronians were already arriving, the overnight human guard speaking quietly with Barricade and Cliffjumper who had arrived slightly earlier to one side while others took up strategic positions around the perimeter as the sky continued to lighten.

It was a quant outpost. The tent was far from the beach, far enough that even if Sam made a run for it to the water that it would take long enough, even on his fleet feet, that more than a handful of supervising support would be able to stop him in time. Important given Sam’s history of bolting at the most inopportune times. 

Blinking awake at the small prodding sensation from the medic, Sam jerked forward, blinking wide and confused eyes around himself. “Where are we?” He asked, frowning, perplexed at the beach and the large temporary building to the side. 

“Is this normal?” Will asked quietly to his left, away from his fellow Spark Touched, but drew Sam’s interest so he rolled his head to look at the General, eyes widening in happy surprise once he laid eyes on him.

“Will!” He cried happily, reaching out and almost reverently touching him. “You’re here.”

Sam almost purred at the warm brush of First Aid’s [affection] as it ran down his synapsis. “It’s highly unusual to experience this level of disorganized memory recall in the prodromal phase of a seizure.” He said in a warm tone to Will, soft voice even as Sam looked around him in wonder. 

“Ratchet?” Sam asked in confusion, [hope] tinging his fields loud enough that Will could feel it.

The sensation just became warmer. “No, Sam, I’m First Aid. Do you remember me?” The medic asked gently. 

After a moment, Sam’s expression flitted between confusion and acceptance. Raising his bad hand, Sam rubbed his face. “Yeah.” He nodded. “I remember you, First Aid. I…I think I’m getting a little confused.” He frowned. “I’m sick. I have epilepsy, I might be about to have a seizure. Will you guys take care of me? I just, I get confused sometimes. Before I have seizures.” He tried to explain. “I’m probably going to have one soon, I always get weird before I have one. And my head hurts.” He admitted.

“Of course Sam.” First Aid explained as he rolled towards the emergency tent, knowing that Remedy and a few human medics were inside doing final inventory of the medical equipment in preparation for what was to come. “Do you have a lot of confusion when you’re about to have a seizure?” He asked lightly, though Will knew that of all of them that First Aid had the most in depth knowledge of Sam’s medical background, possibly even more so than Sam himself.

Nodding, Sam looked at the Gatorade in his hand with puzzlement. “...yes. My mom says that I have a ‘goldfish memory’.” He admitted, sipping the drink anyway having determined that if it was in his hand it was probably his. “Which isn’t correct, Goldfish actually have decent memories for animals with brains that size.” He corrected the woman post mortem, though at the moment Sam wasn’t likely to remember that information.

They finally pulled to a stop next to the tent and Sam felt the tickling sensation of a scan, shivering a little bit as his fingers flexed. “Your temporal lobe, where memory is stored, is lighting up like a pulsar*. I’ve never seen anything like it. There’s billions of microcharges of AllSpark energy flitting back and forth right now, and you’re not even beyond the prodromal stage, the first stage, of your seizure.” First Aid explained and Will and Sam both frowned at him--well, his dashboard.

The first to respond was Will, “So he’s like this because his brain’s being lit up like the Fourth of July from AllSpark Juice?” Will asked. The burst of [amusement] from First Aid was all the confirmation that the General needed before he turned to Sam. “Hey Bud, I’m going to help you out of First Aid and then we’re going to go to the tent right over here and have a little bit of a lay down, okay? Because your head hurts.” Will said carefully and Sam frowned in confusion, First Aid’s statement sliding from his mind like water off a ducks back, before he smiled happily at the General.

“Okay, Will.” He nodded, watching Will leave the vehicle and come around to his side. “Will, where are we?” He asked when the man opened his door and helped Sam out of the seat when First Aid released him from the mech’s seatbelt. Considering how Sam was acting now, Sam possibly running at the drop of a hat wasn’t outside the realm of possibility and First Aid wasn’t excited for the possibility of what that could possibly mean for the next few hours. 

Will wrapped his arm around Sam securely, aware of that reality too, glad that in spite of everything Sam recognized him and associated him with safety and friendship. “We’re at a medical tent on the beach for your seizure. You were afraid of having another seizure and creating a sparkling.” Will explained gently and Sam’s eyes went wide, before he looked up at Will with the most harrowed eyes Will had seen in a teenager’s face before. 

“Toast.” He whispered heartbrokenly, turning to hide his face in Will’s shoulder as his own shoulders hitched.

Will couldn’t understand the kind of devastation that tickled along his fields from Sam’s clear mourning, having never lost a child himself, but he knew how to comfort someone in distress well and pulling Sam in for a hug was as natural as breathing. “Yeah, kid. We’re going to keep you safe, okay? Until the seizure is over.”

Sam’s breath shuddered against Will’s clavicle. “I can’t…not again.” He hiccuped, radiating a pain that staggered Will.

Running his hand down the back of Sam’s neck, he wrapped his palm around the smaller man’s nape and squeezed there firmly*, feeling Sam go nearly boneless in his arms, a sensation almost like purring radiating outwards from the Spark Touched’s fields as the devastation seeped away.

A car, a normal one, pulled up, drawing Will’s attention to Epps who was hopping out and jogging his way to them as the vehicle turned to return up the road, outside the perimeter line. First Aid took the opportunity to instantiate his holoform and join Will, running his hand up and down Sam’s back comfortingly. The second General joined them and Will raised his hand long enough for Sam to blink awareness back into his eyes before turning to where Will was waving uncertainty. 

His demeaning immediately improved at seeing who was approaching, turning to Will in excitement. “Will, that’s Epps!” He raved with enthusiasm, so utterly pleased to see the man that Epps staggered from the wave of [joy] Sam hit him with as he drew closer.

“Woah, Sammy, I’m a married man!” The General laughed, and Sam wiggled in Will’s arms until the General carefully released him, not terribly surprised when Sam just took a couple steps closer to Epps and slid into his arms with a tight little one armed hug of his own, chicken wing held carefully between them. The look of surprise on Epps’ face mimicked his field, but after a moment his face warmed into an affectionate smile. “Hey Sammy.” Epps said quietly, looking at Will and First Aid with a raised eyebrow while wrapping his arms securely around the much smaller man and pulling him into a full bodied hug his family knew him for. Sam practically melted against him, face pressed in the laundry scented jacket the man wore happily. 

Running a hand through his own hair, Will tipped his head towards Sam. “Hey Ray. Sam needs a lot of additional support this morning. His memory is being hijacked by AllSpark energy, he doesn’t remember much from one second to the next. Keeps forgetting things. Keeps forgetting people.” He explained softly, coming forward and resting a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “Sam, we should get you inside. It’s going to busy out here and we don’t want you getting lost.” He coaxed the big brown addled eyes that looked at him from Epps’ chest.

Indeed, above and around them the military units and the mechs assigned to their detail were working but also looking on in clear concern and in the mech’s cases, affection. The current roster: Barricade, Cliffjumper, First Aid, Remedy, Elita-1 and Chromia, Steeljaw out by the road, Hound and Skids were all ready to act should they need to. The human contingent, in comparison, were more confused than informed and as Epps and First Aid led Sam to the tent, Will patted Sam again before peeling off and going to speak with his troops, the main contingent for the protection detail today.

Cliffjumper wandered over as Will made contact with his Lieutenant, a woman named Barbara Nguyen, and looked around. “Report.”

“Parameter set, we have the area locked down with roadblocks on either side, now that Mr. Witwicky has arrived, a mile in either direction. I have people stationed every hundred meters out and we have a security net two miles out with air support from the drone fleet.” She explained succinctly. 

Nodding, Will looked around. “The EMP we’re expecting is possibly larger than we expected, Sam’s energy levels are spiking higher than anticipated this morning. Keep our guys out of falling range of our Cybertronian compatriots in case the charge compromises them, and push the containment zone back another hundred yards and make sure everyone has turned in their tech, their HUDS and other equipment, in to the lead lined cases so it’s not destroyed when the charge hits, I don’t want to lose any more equipment than we have to during this. We’re got everyone on the BRAD*’s, right?”

Looking uncomfortable, Lieutenant Nguyen nodded. “Yes Sir.” She frowned, looking at the tent, “Are we sure it’s safe?” She asked with concern, knowing that the military didn’t have the most pristine record on troop health* in the past.

Feeling for the woman, Will nodded. “Fortunately, the energy that Mr. Witwicky generates has no effects on biological beings, just mechanical ones and technology. That being said, it is dangerous for anyone to be holding equipment when this thing goes down, so I want you to have Collin’s go through and confirm that we don’t have so much as an E-cig out here - the last thing I need is for some noob getting their crotch ignited from a battery exploding.” He grimaced.

Nodding, Lieutenant Nguyen saluted before turning to grab her assistant, Collins, who had been going over rotations with the radio and a clipboard and pencil, looking mildly frustrated by the process.

Materializing next to the General, Cliffjumper’s holoform nodded before the two of them headed towards the tent. “Interesting method to keep tech out.” He commented.

Shrugging, Will looked around. “People are predictable: everyone tries to find a work around just for themselves when there are restrictions except when there is a clear and present danger to their bits.” He snorted. “Your guys good?”

Nodding, Cliffjumper paused before opening the flap to the tent, the sunrise just pinkening the sky to the east and giving the already warm complexion of the holoform a peachy tone. Will wasn’t embarrassed to say the lighting really did something to the larger holoforms features. “Yeah. We’ve done sweeps all morning but we’re looking good, dumb sensors have been laid out to the road block to see how far, realistically, we should be concerned about going forward. Now we just have to wait for the main event.”

Grimacing, Will nodded and they entered the tent.

Sam was pacing from nervous energy, using Epps and First Aid as touch stones and giving everyone else in the room a wide breadth until he saw Will and Cliffjumper, features lighting up and jogging to them with such a punch of [elation] that Will couldn’t feel resentful for the level of care Sam needed. As he wrapped his arms around Sam, who was rambling about being so happy to see him in spite of the pain Will could see in his eyes, Will was more horrified to finally understand what Sam’s life had been like at the cabin. That Sam had been completely and utterly alone for decades of similar events with no one and nothing to support him, pragmatically expecting to be found dead on the floor after a particularly bad episode someday like it wouldn’t have been a tragedy. But it would have been, Will realized as Sam turned his attention to Cliffjumper with almost starstruck delight, it would have been to lose someone so untarnished in spite of what he’d endured.

As the morning stretched into afternoon, Sam’s mood and behavior became more erratic as time stretched. Earlier, he’d slept for part of the morning in another ‘human dog bed’ as he kept dubbing them, waking up intermittently in confusion. He jumped between being happy and overwhelmed at seeing not only Will and Epps but also First Aid and Cliffjumper, Barricade on one occasion when he’d joined them briefly to bring Epps a Monster midmorning when the man had been flagging, to grief. Sobbing at memory that Cliffjumper ‘was dead’ in spite of the mech standing guard and at other times furious, demanding to be ‘freed’ before he eventually remembered who they were and calming down again. His movements became more turbulent, pacing anxiously and muttering to himself low enough that not even the Cybertronians were sure what he was saying. 

First Aid and Remedy took it in stride, carefully handling Sam while Epps lowly spoke to Will, “If this is what his behavior was like when he was younger, I can kind of understand why he needed more professional help.” He admitted, though not without empathy for Sam’s situation.

Sam, for his part, was clearly frustrated the few times that he emerged from his unintelligible phases; he'd blink like a surprised meerkat, looking around before realizing what was going on, apologize and attempt to be left alone to deal with his episode on his own to ‘stop being a pain’. Based on the scans that First Aid was running and cross referencing, the medic and Remedy looked at each other and silently communicated their amazement that Sam had survived long enough for them to find him at all with the activity percolating in his brain.

It was nearly noon when Sam’s hands started twitching uncontrollably. Sam didn’t even notice but for a little frown as he dropped his spill proof cup into his blankets, sitting in his little nest with Will on one side and Epps facing him from the foot of the other. Proximity to the other Spark Touched had eased some of Sam’s need to burn off energy and from trying to stand up and stomp around. While Sam had simply lifted the cup back up everyone else noticed how difficult the shaking of his hands were. First Aid nodded to Will when the man shot the medic a look. Sam’s grimace at the taste of the water after he finally righted the cup was just sealed the deal. The water, instead of tasting like water, tasted like gasoline slid across his tongue and caused his face to scrunch in open disgust as he coughed it out into his elbow. Will was already climbing out of the nest under the premise of removing the drink when Sam went rigid for the first time.

Sam’s last memory, if you could call it that, was pain as the arm in the brace went rigid and the muscles there contracted hard enough that he wasn’t actually that upset to suddenly go unconscious in order to escape.

The visions started off chaotic. Sam frowned, mind shifting through a three dimensional tapestry of information coming to and through and from him in every direction. One moment he was walking in The Grand Golden Praxian Promenade with friends laughing before he was clawing his way from the murky sands of the Rust Sea, something large and terrifying attached to his leg with coiling metal tentacles trying to haul him down, a massive yellow bulbous head that looked concerning close to a robotic octopus rising from the depths. Before he knew he was pulled under the shifting red sands the memory jumped and he was instead in the air, masterful, free, the absolute king of the skies! 

He screamed in triumph as his ascent towards their binary stars high above him led into a magnificent barrel roll*, flitting through the diffuse atmosphere before something tapped his tail fins and instead of being an aerial barracuda he was suddenly a meteor heading, at speed, to the city below with no chance to slow down before impact. 

The visions progressed, fractured, coalesced and merged sporadically for what felt like an eternity until Sam noticed something. Every vision that he was having had a distinctive yellow element to it. Which was…that was important for some reason but Sam had just spent an eon jumping through memories so real he could have been the one having them, he barely remembered who he was, but…it was important. Someone important had something to do with yellow, didn’t they?

And like that, Bumblebee entered the chat. 

But it wasn’t…it wasn’t how Sam remembered the Scout. The shadowy world between visions slowly solidified around Bee in a haze of smoke and sparkles, shapes taking form roughly and sounds coalescing into sounds, words, language and found Sam safely tucked under a table structure while red optics hovered in the darkness high above. 

‘::--where the Autobots are, B-127. They’ve clearly abandoned you, left you here to die. Your precious Prime will send no one for you and will not come for you himself. Your options have become very limited::” Someone was saying, Sam’s eyes unable to see the mech talking, but that voice…

Shockwave owned the ankle to the mech that sat across from Bumblebee, purple armor pristine whereas the yellow scout was…

Oh, no.

Bumblebee's armor was nearly gone. The gray protoform beneath was damaged badly: gouged and gored, cables hanging loose and leaking, from his place below Sam could see the horrible extent of the damage. Bumblebee's nimble, dexterous hands, the ones that could pick up a quarter on a glass surface, were simply gone. The terror, it was absolute visceral horror to stand at the knee of his--to see what they had done to him.

Voice box fritzing, the smaller scout turned his helm to the empurata disfigured Decepticon commander and squinted malfunctioning blue optics at him, energon and oil slowly leaking from a head wound that looked like someone had used their claws to hold Bumblebee’s helm in a crushing hold before slamming it into the a surface, likely to very table he sat in front of, mercilessly. “::Iii-iiiiay wiiiiiill tel’ you nu-uuthiiiiiiiing.” The scout, his brave Bumblebee, barked and Sam was reminded of the last words of a very similar mech in a galaxy far, far away*. 

“No, Bee, please! Please, just…please.” Sam begged, hands placing themselves against the coiled metal of the delicate joint of Bee’s knee, not noticing that instead of sliding straight through that they met almost resistance there.

Sam didn’t even see the mech that touched the sensitive struts of Bee’s back with a coiled electrical prod, an industrial electrical line even by Cybertronian standards, and screamed with the yellow scout as his form jerked and was held in a rictus of agony for too long before Shockwave waved the mech off, Bumblebee’s back smoking as he slumped across the table, points of contact from the cables burning white hot against the delicate structures below. Sam screamed in useless fury as liquid protoform slid down Bee’s back to splatter on the floor like viscous silver water. 

Shockwave’s voice was calm as he addressed the injured Autobot whos cooling system was venting air so loudly that Sam could hardly hear the Decepticon commander over them. “::This is really poorly conceived of you, B-127. We don’t honestly care about you, you know - what concern have we for an upstart little toss away like you? You could be free right now if you would simply tell us where your fellows are. If your information provides us with more than Optimus, I could in fact make it quite worth your while. You could be a very rich Mech. You’d want for nothing and when this whole bothersome war is over you could even find your own place amongst the great Decepticon Empire.::” Shockwave stated conversationally while holding his servo out almost like a Shakespearian actor to his nearly unconscious companion. “::Come now, save yourself the damage I would otherwise enjoy inflicting upon you.::” He cajoled though Sam knew that just as Shockwave felt no empathy, so too did the mech feel no joy.

It was such a departure from Shockwave the younger, from before he was shattered by the monsters who had stolen his face and hand, had desecrated him, that the sickness that Sam felt at what Bumblebee was experiencing gutted him almost entirely at seeing the once good mech being the one to inflict it. He ran at Shockwaves legs and pounded on his armor. “Please, please stop. Please don't…don’t hurt him anymore.” He begged wildly, fingers brushing against the purple panels of the mech's leg as he pressed his face against the mirror finish. “Please.” Sam croaked, collapsing against the once scientist's leg and crying brokenly.

Sam knew it would do nothing, it never did anything, but it was like he couldn't help himself. The vision continued on indifferently, his soft whimpers completely disregarded as what once had been was again. 

“::Aaa-aa Priiiiiince t’o an Empiiiiiiiiiirrrre of liiiiiiiies.::” Bumblebee got out, voice box sustaining on parts of words as it malfunctioned, intake still plastered to the table and vents bellowing below. “::Noooo briii-iiibe woooooould beeeee en’uf t’o pa-aaa-aay the debt my Spaaaaark woooooould incur beeeeeetraaaaaying myyyyyyyy peo-ple.::” he fritzed, sparks bursting from the seams of his neck coils. Sam was suddenly on the table, still on his knees, looking at the defiance filled optics of his most precious friend and the single, uninterested yellow orb that acted as Shockwave’s unfeeling eye like a great monstrous cyclops. 

The Decepticon regarded him silently for a long moment, fields quiet as the grave while Sam could now feel the [pain] and [defiance] the small scout projected like a banner, inviting all and sundry to challenge his resolve. It was stupid, it was foolhardy, Shockwave didn't care about last stands and heroics, the mech cared about results and the quickest way to them. 

Drumming his one servo across the table like a pianist finishing a concerto, a particularly unusual act for a Cybertronian absent such an instrument, Shockwave stood. “::Well, sadly for you but fortuitously enough for us, I don't need your cooperation to get the information I require. In fact, I don't even need you alive to do so::.” He said briefly, raising his gun arm to point at the crippled Autobot who’s vents were still chugging away from the ferocious heat his systems were still trying to shed. Bumblebee must be in such pain, Sam thought in the distant part of his mind able to disengage from what he was seeing.

He was up and in front of the gun instantly, wrapping his arms around the tip as Bumblebee began to chuckle victoriously behind him, losing his footing as Shockwave lifted his weapon. “No, don't you dare! Don't hurt him!” Sam screamed, the gibbering fear that he was about to see Bumblebee murdered overwriting any common sense he might have had, any knowledge that he couldn't influence the outcome of this horrific scene not even registering as his body seemed to move by itself. 

“::Myyyyyyy prrrrocessesss’r briiiiiiiiicks myyyyyyy data criiiiiiiiiistal iiiiiiiif iiiiiiiiiiiim c’mpromiiiiiiiiiised~!::” He singsonged, the playful Bee with a viscous stinger right to the end.

Sam could feel the warmth of the blaster against his chest as Shockwave considered the mech, thoughtful but not upset. “::A dangerous augmentation for one in a war::.” The mech said with an air of vague interest. “::An injury bad enough to require medical attention when you're unconscious and you would never wake up. You must be confident and stupid::.” 

Bee’s chuckle was like a bad muffler cranking under an over enthusiastic driver. “::Oooooh, yoooo-oooo-ooou do’n’t knoooooooow t’e haaaaaaa-aaa-aaalf of iiiiiiiiiit.::” His malfunctioning voice boy responded, somehow still carrying the distinct ‘fuck you’ energy the scout was known for.

Shockwave lowered his blaster, setting Sam firmly on the table once more. Breathing easier, Sam was turning his face to look at blue optics when Shockwave suddenly lifted him and then flung Sam across the room so hard that if he'd been in his body there wouldn’t be a body to be in afterwards. From where he was suddenly plastered to the wall, feeling the painful impact which was an unpleasant and new addition to the vision experience pack, Sam saw Bumblebee’s helm snapped  to the side as Shockwave backhanded the armless mech, fluid flung across the room to rain around Sam like rain. Bumblebee would have fallen to the floor had the shadowy shape that had electrocuted him hadn't moved forward to hold the scout fast in his seat. 

Whatever Shockwave was about to do, however, was interrupted by a door sliding open above Sam's head where he'd tumbled to the ground, admitting a new mech to the room. The pain Sam had been surprised by had disappeared nearly as quickly as it had appeared, a memory within a memory, and he was able to pick himself up slowly off the floor. Shaking himself before looking up, and up, and up at a mech that stilled his heart and filled him with arctic ice. 

“::My Lord Megatron.::” Shockwave greeted, raising his blaster in salute, trails of life fluid sliding down the barrel even so. 

Megatron smiled at Shockwave, intake twisted harshly in the half light of the memory. “::Commander Shockwave.::” The High Commander greeted in turn, before turning to the dazed and furious scout held aloft only by the servos behind him, “::And Primes precious little bitlette*. If only your Guardian could see you now, he would be devastated.::” The mad mech chuckled, wandering over and running his servo like a lover across the delicate protoform presented to them. “::Such a good little soldier for your Prime, but then you always have been, haven't you B-127? The castoff, the lagan. So loyal to the mech that selected you from your fellows to raise instead of sending you to the Energon processing plants to slowly disintegrate from exposure.::” He smiled viscously. 

Bumblebee was hardly able to track Megatron visually, but his processor was chugging away well enough for him to recognize the mech in front of him. “::Meeeeeeeeegatron, betraa-aaa-aayer.::” he hissed.

The former miner, the current despot, clasped the Autobots throat in an almost friendly manner, thumb rubbing what would pass as Bumblebee’s chin had he been human. “::Betrayal implies I subverted loyalty to someone. I have not. It is your Prime who has betrayed me, betrayed you, betrayed us ALL. It was he who has doomed us to extinction by short-mindedly casting the AllSpark into the Void[wormhole].::” He thundered into the small mechs face, though Sam could see that Bee was having difficulty tracking the conversation he was party to. The former miner’s face was a terrifying mask of angles and plates, dangerous just to consider, before they began to smooth out, the red optics unslitting themselves as he looked the smaller Cybertronian over. “::But not for long.::” He said simply, leaning forward and pressing his intake to Bee’s delicate audial. “::Because I have found the AllSpark.::” He chuckled. 

While Bee had been limp and broken in the larger mechs servos as Megatron had raged, the confession revitalized the scout, who attempted to attack the Decepticons leader with what little energy he had left, an inarticulate scream of [rage] and [pain] splitting the air like a vibro-ax. For his part, Megatron looked thrilled by this reaction and Sam was slammed, suddenly, with memories of a much younger Bee playing with Megatron in the gardens surrounding the Simfur temple while Megatron waited for Optimus. Of slipping the not sparkling Energon gummies and rust sticks and speaking of revolution in the kindest terms possible. To see that and to see this sacrilege made the pain all the more visceral, all the worse, and Sam screamed with Bee at the monster he'd once called friend. 

But Bumblebee was hurt. Bumblebee was hurt bad. The yellow scout went limp again almost immediately, and Sam staggered towards the table, feeling weak and distant like a surge of exhaustion all of a sudden. 

Megatron cooed at the mech, “::Faithful little B-127. Are you as faithful to the AllSpark as you are to the Prime, I wonder? For the AllSpark needs its most loyal servants; who knows what state it's in?::” He hummed, looking the nearly destroyed form over. “::But luckily for me, I find that I have a Simfur Guardian at my beck and call to tend to the AllSparks needs.::” Megatron said with a smile that was anything but pleasant, though the focus of the vision began to dim on the edges, fading out.

No. No. Sam struggled to get back up, to stay with Bee, but it was all darkening to void, the room going from twilight to midnight and Sam was falling and it felt like floating and sinking at the same time as he was forcefully disengaged from the vision, minor shards of others piercing him in the darkness, but nothing strong enough to give anything but an impression. Not that Sam was eager to latch on to anything. Not when his brain was repeating the vision of his precious guardian in the clawed grasp of Sam's own personal nightmare fuel. 

Consciousness post seizure was not easy, or totally expected, for a long while afterwards. Sam knew his brain took a long time to reboot, and that he'd have some false starts, but this time something was different. Something was…wrong. 

Clawing his way to consciousness, something inside of him screaming wrong and bad and help , was like climbing out of quicksand; every hand hold slipped away when he put pressure on it and yet there was a drive in his heart that demanded that he grasp more, push harder, because he needed to wake up. He needed to wake the fuck up. 

Because he was needed. 

When Sam’s eyes opened he was nearly blind. A rainbow aura dominated his vision, only a pinprick of sight able to make it through, make sense, as he lay on his back, deep bellows of breath rocking his delicate rib cage as his body adjusted to breathing again. His body felt….God, his body felt like he was dying again and nothing didn't hurt, even his toenails ached. He was a septic bruise exposed to blistering pressure and his stomach clenched painfully at the instant nausea it created. 

Why was he awake? Sam never woke up this soon. He was allowed a reprieve after the seizure, he was allowed to rest, but…

[Help]

The feeling across his field was a supplication and a plea. It was…rudimentary. Basic. 

Infantile. 

Sam's eyes shot open again from where they had slid shut and he struggled to sit in the human dog bed as he could finally hear and reminisce of something just out of his mind those sound became words became language and what was being said caused the flash of panic to ignite into an inferno of hysteria inside him. 

No. No. How…?

“--you mean you had to find out?!” Someone was screaming and Sam didn't care, uncoordinatedly forcing himself vertical in a stagger that almost pitched him down again. He vaguely wondered why he was able to, why hands weren't holding him down, but his clearing vision was soon able to explain that with horrifying clarity. 

Stood near the medical supply cabinet, First Aid, Will, Epps and the other medical staff were arranged around Remedy. She, as a minicon, was smaller than them and disappeared behind their bulk, and so it took a moment for Sam's jittering mind to make sense of everyone yelling because while he lost and gained the ability to understand what anyone was saying over each other his focus was on the one speaking with no words.

Because clutched in the femme medic’s arms was a terrifyingly tiny protoform, armorless and delicate, golden optics flitting around in terror as their first moments of life were filled with fury and chaos. 

No.

Chapter Text

Sam’s brain, which he’d be the first to admit functioned incomprehensibly on a good day, absolutely shut down* when he saw those bright golden optics. His greatest joy, his worst fear, his new nightmarish reality all in one tiny package. The sparkling, just a slip of a thing, was no larger than a human toddler but clearly of Cybertronian make: they lacked armor entirely, instead revealing just the delicate silver of a protoform, all banded metal, cables, struts, braces and panels. For a race that still wore armor as standard, it was terrifying to see one so… vulnerable without. If Remedy were to drop them…

He stepped forward.

He had tried for so many years to avoid this very scenario, of having to deal with the heartbreak that the first time had made him question his very sanity while simultaneously breaking his soul into shards that he'd then spent decades gluing back together imperfectly, pieces no longer matching or missing altogether. With every step he could feel that glue give, sending pieces of his heart, his soul, his mind drifting away behind him.  Even though Sam could feel himself shattering into a billion tiny pieces now with the knowledge that it had all been real, he put one foot in front of the other and staggered like a zombie towards his own ruination.

Everyone else was so distracted by Remedy, by the sparkling, that Sam with his depleted reserves and nearly silent fields didn’t even register to those capable of feeling them as he approached unnoticed until he was suddenly just there like an avenging angel amongst them. Remedy went rigid, her defensive expression blooming with guilt to the face of the Spark Touched that she had wronged. Sam, however, didn’t care and shoved the femme with his right arm, somehow free from its tattered brace, and collected the tiny terrified form to his breast with the other.

In that moment, Remedy stopped existing to Sam and his world as it narrowed like a camera’s aperture on the small being in his arms, fields leaking [distress][fear][help] up at organic eyes sparking gold down at them. After an eternal second Sam’s knees suddenly gave out, dropping him to the floor like one seeking benediction. It was probably better for Sam that his focus was solely on the small protoform in his arms because while Sam, the human, would not have been able to move even a small Cybertronian like Remedy even with maximum effort, Sam the whatever he was launched the medic out of the tent and a good 20 meters beyond like a ragdoll, spinning her ass over tea kettle and skipping across the sand with the unhindered momentum generated, limbs akimbo like a marionette with it’s strings cut before she finally came to rest helm first in the sand just meters from the ocean, limbs jerking from residual charge as the beach burst into activity, Cybertronians and humans alike barking sit reps and dispatching units to investigate what the fuck had just happened. 

For all of the sudden activity like a hornets nest outside the tent, the inside was terrifyingly still as all eyes looked at where Remedy had gone to where Sam was. Kneeling on the plastic tile floor, Sam’s face had donned an almost sweet expression as he cradled the trilling sparkling to his chest with the absent mind attention of a parent with a fussy baby, trilling a whistle softly back to draw scared optics to focus on him and only him as his fields sputtered out [love] and [safety] like an engine desperate to turn over but not having the juice to do so,  his body trying to function absent the ability to do so.

“Holy fucking shit.” One of the medics said, stepping back and like that the tension broke. The medic who had spoken took another step back before bolting, leaving his teammate staring between his disappearing form and the high command who were looking at each other like they were having a full on conversation that she was not part and privy to and she…was A-OK with this. She was also A-OK with the dismissal that she received from the Cybertronian doctor, First Aid, when he jerked his head towards the door to her and she took off after her more cowardly coworker.

This left Epps, Will, First Aid, Sam…and the sparkling. Sam, for his part, appeared to not even notice the others, focus entirely on the small body in his arms, soothing his fingers over the softest parts of the sparkling soothingly which combined with the spasmic flashes of [love][safety][protection][care] had calmed the baby enough to tuck their head close to the warm being holding them and croon miserably at what they had experienced now that there was someone who was safe. The two were in their own little world as Will took a wide perimeter to try to catch Sam’s eyes. “Sam?” He asked cautiously and from the response Will got, he might as well have not been present at all. Sam’s entire form was curved around the softly whimpering sparkling, body starting to rock gently while he murmured unintelligible things against their helm as he placed his lips there.

After a moment, Will stood up and rejoined the other two, looking at the entry to the tent and the not so subtle bots angling to see inside. “We have to contain this.” He said to Epps.

Nodding, Epps cast his glance down at Sam before looking at the other two, “ I can't help Sam in here. Shits FUBAR and we gotta fix what we can fix out there. Lock down the site. You got this?” The man asked.

Looking helplessly at First Aid who was watching Sam like a hawk, Will shrugged. “We have to be. You go deal with that and we’ll see what we can do here. Get Wheeljack and Perceptor out here.” He stated and Epps nodded, giving Sam one last look and departing out of the tent, his voice raising up before fading as he put distance between himself and the tent. 

Still shaken, Will looked at Sam before First Aid finally took a step forward. First Aid, a trained medic and a veteran of millions of years of war had been singularly unprepared for a trusted colleagues duplicity and felt himself unmoored. He’d…betrayed Sam. Not from actions of his own part but through inactions and a trust that had clearly been misplaced concerning such an incredibly vulnerable ward. A ward whose internal shields had been thrown up so fast and so hard that it had caused a feedback error that his systems were still recovering from, but he needed to set that aside for now.

“Sam? Can you hear me?” First Aid asked, but frowned as…he was ignored. Sam was ignoring them. It was strange to realize that Sam wasn’t unable to interact but was deliberately disengaging from them. Sam didn’t do that. He was engaged, overly engaged more often than not, with those around him like a flower seeking sun after too long in the dark. But as with delicate blooms, Sam appeared to have been badly burned. “Sam, sweet spark? I need you to talk to me, I can’t…I can’t help if I don’t know what you need.”

Running his hand down their back, the sparkling finally calmed down enough that [fear] was washed away under Sam’s sputtering fields. “You're okay, you're okay. I've got you now. You're okay.” He whispered softly, fingers gentle on the sparkling fragile protoform. “Shhhh, shhhh. Stop your crying, it'll be alright*.” He cooed quietly, pressing his lips to the oversized helm, feeling the last of sparklings fear slowly subsiding. “There we are. See? I've got you.” He whispered, rhythmically running his thumb across their back strut and feeling the soft buzz of a protoform’s purr against his sternum as they soothed themself in the warmth of his fields.

Cautiously, First Aid moved closer to press into Sam’s incredibly weak field and got an unpleasant surprise for his troubles. He received a [ furious] and [ suspicious ] zing across his fields instantaneously. Wincing internally and externally in both forms, First Aid carefully knelt down just out of arm's reach and brushed his own fields carefully over Sam's closed mind, a place he had been welcomed wholly just minutes before hand was a brittle battlement to him as much as Sam was able, leaking [bitterness] and [anger] and so so scared from the holes in his shielding as the small Spark Touched tried to balance his failing body with his failure to keep the Sparkling safe by never being born in the first place. First Aid rallied, aware that Sam lashed out when overwhelmed and upset, and pinged Sam with a request for the ability to do a scan on both him and the sparkling as First Aid realized that Sam's trust, already a delicate thing that the Cybertronians had been lucky enough to circumvent by sheer luck, had locked down and Sam viewed everyone around him as an enemy. 

Sam turned his gaze to the medic and if looks could kill, First Aid would be a smear across the tent walls. “You promised.” Sam said in a voice that could have been jovial if his eyes didn't scream ‘betrayal’. “You promised I'd be safe.” His voice crackled around the rock formed in the man's throat, completely at odds with the gentle rocking of the sparkling in his arms. 

The castigation was well earned, First Aid admitted to himself. “I failed you, Sam. I was remiss in my duties; I didn't check Remedy's equipment.” He quietly explained, watching Sam's mind struggle to process the information he'd just been given, struggling to process anything, a terrible indicator of the man's state.  “I failed you once today, I swear not to do so again. Sam, you're in danger, you're barely done with a seizure and your energy levels have to be depleted. Please allow me to help you.” The medic begged.

“ No.” Sam hissed in fury, his mind rallying what it could to work with which was…not a lot. Sam knew he was in bad shape, he could feel his chest pounding with an arrhythmia intermittently, but he wasn’t important here. After a moment his face collapsed, eyes welling with tears. “The baby. Please, please ; they need help. Don't…don't make me lose another one. I can’t lose another one.” He begged, his voice becoming a mere raspy wisp at the end of his plea. “Please help.” He whimpered, carefully lifting the sparkling so that First Aid could see their glittering little optics raise to look at him curiously. 

Stunned at the casual disregard for Sam’s own health, a quality that First Aid admitted to himself he shouldn’t be surprised by, his eyes drifted to the little being in front of him. A sparkling. Primus, they were so small. He’d never seen one before, sparklings being a symbol of status amongst the high castes. Noting Sam’s face and knowing the man well enough to know that Sam would receive no care willingly until after the sparkling had, First Aid nodded carefully, reverently, as he carefully compiled a full series of scans to run on the both of them, praying to any deity that would listen that he’d have good news to share with the trembling Spark Touched, Will silent support behind him.

It was a prayer left unanswered. 

Scan after scan showed promise, but as they progressed he felt his own spark shrivel in his spark chamber. A common medics scan would have found no problems, no anomalies, but his more in depth scans? Problems no one would notice for hours, maybe a day were clear as the characters of his internal display. It may not have been as quick as poor Toast’s passing, but this sparkling’s fate was just as inevitable all the same.

Sam's eyes, whiskey colored pools, looked at him with such hope, such need, that he would have rather given his own spark than explain to the human that his fear was well founded. Still, First Aid had been an apprentice to Ratchet for decavorns and if there was one thing that he had learned in that time it was that brutal honesty was kinder than a white lie in the long run. Stiffening his expression, First Aid’s face shifted to sympathy and felt his spark contract  watching Sam's face collapse again when he finally shook his head. “I'm sorry, Sam, but they're already depleting.” He admitted softly.

It would have been less painful if Sam had simply wailed like you see in movies, but the silence that followed was worse because everything in Sam went silent. His emotions shut down and like a puppet Sam turned from First Aid, eyes leaking but otherwise no indication of the devastation that statement had left in its wake. “Then what good are you?” He asked in an empty tone that cut the medic to the core. 

First Aid knew that this was a human response, that it was the hurt lashing out to hurt when they were otherwise powerless, but he still had to vent harshly in his mech form outside the tent so as not to respond. Sam wanted First Aid to fight him, he wanted to focus his anger and fear and injustice somewhere because he was functionally useless to help just as much as First Aid was. For all that he wanted to punish First Aid, he wanted to punish himself a hundred fold more.

Which First Aid couldn’t allow. Sam, even in this short time together, had carved out a neat little pocket in his spark and Sam’s pain was First Aid’s pain and Sam was hurting. “Sam, I need to perform a scan on you. You shouldn't be awake right now, you're pushing your processor to a limit it isn't prepared to function at.” He stated calmly, hoping that the reasonable tone would reach Sam even now.

“What does it even matter?” Sam asked, running his thumb over the sparkling’s cheek, causing the little helm to lean into the sensation before suspicion* spread across Sam’s face, though his gaze wasn’t on First Aid, wasn’t even on the room. “So you can take them? No, no, no one is going to take them, no one is going to hurt them - not while I’m still alive.” He glared at something beyond the medic and carefully wrapped an arm around the protoform protectively. The baby Cybertronian carefully wrapped around Sam like a human child, optics glancing around with curiosity and life as Sam attempted to stagger to his feet.

“Sam, buddy, you can’t get up right now.” Will added for the first time since he’d tried to get Sam’s attention.

The look on Sam’s face shifted from suspicion to confusion. “Will?” He frowned, a strong sense of deja vu at his surprise. 

First Aid was standing and carefully approaching with Will. “Sam, I don't know what your blood sugar is doing but I can say with great surety it's nothing good.” He stated and set his hand on Sam's elbow to steady him, even as the link between them snapped and flared like boiling sodium, Will wincing on the other side as he touched the younger Spark Touched. 

With great dignity Sam managed to make it to his feet, which shook beneath him, his face ashen and perspiring, the whites of his eyes becoming more visible as they widened to focus. The medic wasn't sure what was keeping Sam vertical but whatever it was it wasn't human. Shrugging them off with a jerk of his shoulders reinforced with a shock of static, Sam growled. “ Don't touch me.” Sam wrapped the sparkling in his arms more securely before taking a staggering step towards the human dog bed. It was 15 feet, a pittiling distance, but to Sam it might as well have been 500 miles, each step felt like a league below him and First Aid's hovering spurring him on where common sense would have stopped him before he'd even stood. First Aid's optics hardened, Will’s jaw set, but their positions matched Sam's as Sam slowly made his way across the room, ready to catch the Spark Touched when his body inevitably gave out. 

It was only at the edge of the bed that Sam ran into trouble, lacking the fundamental coordination to get into the bed without simply collapsing. The sparkling in his arms looked at the bed curiously, optics wide and assessing before looking up at Sam, at [safe][love], and deeting a simple binary string of tones not dissimilar from the noise of a 90’s modem connecting to a phone line in interest.

“Gotta sit down, Baby.” Sam tried to explain, even as black slowly crept along the edges of his vision.

Seeing Sam's predicament and his slow list to the side, First Aid and Will gently, but firmly, took Sam's elbows and shoulder and bore the burden of the humans weight into the soft surface below. First Aid’s internal sensors alerting him that all factors considered Sam was much too light in his hold; Sam had sloughed weight off somewhere than First Aid knew he didn’t have the mass to lose. It was timely too because Sam reluctantly acknowledged that a few moments more and his legs would have given out entirely. Sam still sent them both untrusting glares, but settling Sam into the beds natural backrest and placing pillows around him didn’t receive the same stinging rebukes that helping him up had and Will…well, Will considered that a win.

Sam curled around the sparkling, knees drawn up for an easier place for their little back to rest. As soon as Sam was settled down, back against the raised side of the nest, his body folded forward to surround his precious little ward and humm soothingly down at them, First Aid could hold back no longer. 

“Sam, if you don't get something in you I am going to put something in you.” He said in an even tone so as not to scare the sparkling but with bite his meaning for the human. 

However belligerently angry Sam was, however betrayed he felt, he knew that First Aid was not talking out of his ass. Skid-plate? He also could feel the repercussions of what he’d done in the numbness in his bones. Smiling at the sparkling’s curious optics as they took in their new environment, getting a little grin back from their intakes as they mimicked the motion at him, Sam focused on [love][safety][care][protection] field projections to the tiny being. “No IVs. Don't wanna be sedated*.” He managed, tone soothing and warm, feeling the soft [warm][safe] from his tragic burden.

 The implication that he didn't trust First Aid to not sedate him was pretty clear. 

“Okay. I'm going to grab you glucose bags and water. You're going to consume them.” First Aid explained to Sam quietly, tone brokering no argument. His eyes were soft as little golden optics focused up on him, tiny servo lifting to their intake and feeling around it where they were exploring sensory information by engaging with it.

Sam, carefully, pulled the little servo from the inside of the intake where visible dentia* could be seen which could inadvertently crush tiny servos when engaged prematurely. It drew the sparkling attention to Sam who lifted the delicate servo and pressed a soft kiss there before making ‘nomming’ noises and pretending to nibble on them. This instigated a shriek of delight from the sparkling, the small protoform ecstatic at [warm][safe] playing with them. 

It was a noise that hadn't been heard in nearly 10 million years and First Aid could feel the surge of [elation][wonder] and understandably [fear] bursting through the communication network as the sound was recorded and relayed through the colony at lightning speed and was strictly blocked from Sam's awareness like an iron barricade, though the closer fields tapped like nail tips on him. 

Will, kneeling next to them, felt his chest tighten - he’d played this game with Anna and her kids and…Will had never lost a child but watching Sam interacting with one he knew would pass was a special kind of agony.

For his part, Sam shook his head at the distractions like a dog to an annoying fly. Sam projected [love] to the baby to focus himself on the here and now and not the irrelevant out there. First Aid lamented that it could be some time before Sam would once more do so with anyone else. With careful movements First Aid rose and went to the medical cabinet and pulled out the glucose bags and slightly salinated water to do what he could to rebalance Sam's internal systems and respect the Spark Touched wishes.

“And caffeine.” Sam called to the holoform, his bone deep exhaustion apparent in his voice.

The automatic denial sat behind his vocalizer as First Aid turned to regard the back of Sam's head. “If I can scan you and determine it will not be dangerous to you, I will give you a caffeinated soda.” He bargained, knowing that any progress he was going to make today would be through compromise only. 

Will, reading Sam’s body language, carefully set his hand on Sam’s back between his shoulder blades and just held it there. Sam grimaced, wiggling slightly, but…but it was Will. And it felt…Sam was so angry and so tired that the little bit of connection to someone who he cared about so much but was so furious at at the same time caused him to slump forward, hating and welcoming the touch in equal measure. Will, like First Aid, could feel the residual AllSpark energy humming away under Sam’s skin, wondering if that was what was keeping Sam alive, let alone awake.

Wondering if that was what Sam had launched Remedy like a cannonball out of the tent with in a show of what he thought of her violation of him.

“Okay.” Sam finally muttered in defeat. He hurt, he was so tired he could cry, he was now given a challenge by the gods he didn’t think he could handle. He just…he wanted to wake up and find out this had all just been a horrible nightmare - he wouldn’t even care if he had to do a mulligan again. Just give him a break, just a little break, so that he could just catch his breath between disasters, okay? He just…he just needed to catch his breath. 

Will was safe and warm behind him as First Aid rejoined them, setting the glucose bags on the brim of the bed next to Sam and cracking the water bottle open before handing it over before initiating the first of several in depth scans on the small human before him. Sam's condition was worse than First Aid could have dreaded. Sam, medically, should have been unconscious but the residual ::Zeph:: energy was animating his body like a marionette with his own consciousness. His brain-waves were fluctuating wildly as the new information tried to slot into place in his memory center but the energy to do so was being siphoned off to keep his meatsuit running. First Aid suspected that the integration of any new information that Sam had would only begin once Sam was unconscious again. 

Sam automatically took the bag and brought it to his mouth when Will handed it over, sucking the sweet goop up without tasting it, his body craving calories but his mind not interested in processing the flavor. 

In Sam's world, everything tasted of ash. He took three packets of glucose without comment, his periphery twinkling like Christmas lights from the amount of scans that First Aid was subjecting him to before chugging the rest of the bottle of water, eyes on the sparkling in his lap who was watching the process with bright, curious optics. After the last glucose bag was consumed they reached for it and Sam let the little servos crinkle the bag exploratorily, pressing the sides and rubbing them together with the remaining sugar syrup as an interstitial lubricant. They trilled at the discovery, servos thoughtful before lifting the bag and biting at it with their intake.

Laughing quietly, Sam gently tugged the bag out of a confused intake and ran his thumb over a tiny drop of red liquid from their chin. “I'm sorry, sweet spark, but that's not something you need.” He apologized, running his fingers over their neck cables. “You'd need… Energon.” He trailed off, eyes widening and chest constricting at the realization. “Wouldn't they?” He turned to First Aid, a spike of hope like the sword of Damocles hanging over their heads*.

First Aid didn’t want to give false hope, so he inclined his helm. “Wheeljack and Perceptor are enroute with their mobile lab. I have forwarded the sparklings scans to them, but Sam, this is beyond my field of knowledge.” He admitted. The body of the sparkling was as hale and hearty as one could expect from a successful implantation and yet it was failing. “But we will use all of our resources to explore all possibilities, Sam. We put you in this circumstance, we’re going to do what we can to fix it.”

“There is no ‘fixing’ this, only mitigating the disaster.” Sam said in a voice that could have been disinterested if it weren’t for the spark of true terror shining in his eyes, which were drooping even as First Aid and Will watched, Sam catching himself as his body engaged with a microsleep. He shook his head, the sparkling trilling at his long hair that whipped around them, before Sam looked up at First Aid with a different kind of hope in his eyes. “Caffeine?”

Shaking his head, First Aid gave Sam a look. “The only thing keeping you from being unconscious right now is AllSpark energy that’s straining your other systems to maximum output. If we were in literally any other situation I would be forced to sedate you for your own safety, a stimulant would likely cause your system to crash in such a way that you’d need medical intervention to be resuscitated from.”

Wrinkling his nose, Sam turned back to the sparkling. “What does it matter? They’re…” He couldn’t say it, couldn’t acknowledge what was going to happen. “I can’t…last time--I went to sleep and Toast was just gone. I can’t do that again. I can’t.” He whimpered, pressing his forehead against the sparklings who bleated out a curious tune, reaching their servos up at the brown tresses that were suddenly within reach, clumsy servos trying to put the keratinized fibers. 

“Which is why you aren’t sedated.” First Aid explained, “But being awake right now is causing cascading issues - you’re not supposed to be awake right now and your body knows it. A short nap would help you so much, and the sparkling has…they have some time.” The medic entreated, begged across their fields.

“Not enough.” Sam snipped, pulling away slightly from cradling the sparkling so close and with a quiet certainty Sam detangled their little servos from his locks and held up an empty water bottle instead. Helping small servos grasp the plastic where they pinched it and shrieked in surprise, then delight, as the bottle made crunching noises in their digits when they crushed it. “Yes! It makes a fun noise, doesn't it? Crunch, crunch, crunch.” He singsonged, smiling at the new game, the sparkling holding up the bottle to show Sam. “Look at that, your little digits are so strong!” He cooed, grabbing the bottom of the bottle and pressing just hard enough to crackle the plastic. It shocked another happy shriek from the sparkling before they raised their servos in [joy]. “Look at you!” Sam enthused, though the end was more watery than he wanted to admit to anyone. 

How dare Remedy do this to them.

“She's gone, right?” Sam asked, taking the small servos and starting to shake them, a new game for them to learn, causing the little sparkling to dance to their elation.

While Will didn’t know, First Aid did and nodded apologetically. “She's been taken into custody. Remedy will be held to account for what she has done.” He explained solemnly. Sam nodded, shaking the sparkling servos from side to side, their fields exploding with delight. 

It was…it was so different from before but so also so similar. Toast hadn't been so…exuberant, and it made Sam's eyes water, shoulders hunching and he quietly cried, trying to smile and keep his utter misery from his fields and away from the sparklings understanding. 

“Sam--” First Aid started only for the Spark Touched to cut him off. 

With a sob, Sam released the sparklings servos and wrapped them in his arms, pulling them close and running his thumb over the back of their helm. “It's not fair. It's just not fair. They didn’t do anything, they’re innocent, they don’t deserve this. Take me. Please. I can’t--” He whispered, shoulders shaking.

The sparkling chittered in bemusement against him, his hold carefully not too tight, and took a moment to freak out. He was so exhausted but he couldn't sleep, not when…not when the sparkling could simply die when he did. Sam couldn't even close his eyes, because even blinking took a Herculean effort to recover from, a yawn doggedly battled back. 

Sam wasn’t sure where begging would have gotten him, probably nowhere good, when First Aid perked up and turned towards the base beyond the tent walls. Sam couldn’t tell what was happening, having shunned the outside world since sending Remedy into it, but First Aid and Will could, Will standing up and jogging to the door, leaving a cool spot across Sam’s spine where his hand had been the entire time. Its absence was unpleasantly noticed. 

Turning his head in the direction of where Will had disappeared to, Sam frowned curiously as three people ducked through the tent flaps. Or, more accurate to say: one person and two holoforms. They were strangers, or at least, Sam had never met them before and with what his brain was (not) doing, it took him till they were only paces away to figure out who they were. One was larger and looked to be from the Indian subcontinent with his hair split down the middle and a riot of curls to either side, almost like audials while the other man was whip thin, bespeckled, Asian and looked into at Sam with the utmost concern. 

Wheeljack. 

Perceptor. 

Hope.

Sam felt his shoulders fall under the weight of relief at seeing them, at any possibility that there was a way to help. Both scientists were known to do 10 impossible things before breakfast*. Sam just prayed that those impossible things might include a miracle or two. They approached cautiously even as Will went right back to his spot at Sam’s side and First Aid’s holoform turned to Sam. “You know who they are?” He asked and Sam could only nod, his throat too choked up to respond. 

Perceptor approached, unerringly bright blue eyes regarding the two in the large bed. “Samuel Witwicky, I am happy to meet you but am incredibly sorry it is under these circumstances.” The holoform offered with [sympathy], splitting his attention between the two of them.