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On a dark winter night, when snow and ice enveloped the nearby forest, muffling all sound and keeping the city lights far from Denny's scrapyard, the stillness seemed to resonate through the frosty, clouded air.
Suddenly, in the heart of the junkyard, a flash of light broke through the darkness. From a makeshift Earth bridge, a bright blue portal began to hum with energy. Without warning, Bumblebee stepped out of its glow. His hands clutched a handful of old, rusted trinkets and charred, faded photographs.
Bee's expression was heavy with thought and sorrow. His gaze resembled that of someone who had peered into the deepest abyss, only to find nothing they had hoped for. Even the biting cold failed to rouse him from his trance. A warm puff of breath escaped his nose, quickly vanishing into the freezing air.
As the bridge sealed behind him, darkness reclaimed its hold on the scrapyard. Only the faint orange-yellow glow of the distant city illuminated the contours of his figure. Behind Bumblebee stood a tall man, arms crossed, his silhouette rigid and almost statuesque.
“Why do I even bother?” Bee muttered softly to himself, his voice nearly swallowed by the icy stillness.
“Care to tell me where you’ve been all this time, Bumblebee?”
Behind him stood Drift, his figure sharply outlined by the glow of the city. As he spoke, he switched on a flashlight, its beam slicing through the darkness to illuminate their surroundings.
“Oh, Primus! Drift! I wasn’t expecting you there...” Bee turned to him, hurriedly tucking the photos into the pocket of his jacket. “If you keep sneaking up on me like this, my spark’s gonna give out, man, seriously.” He pointed at him, trying to mask his nerves with a forced laugh. “But fine, fine, it happens to the best of us. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll just head back to my cabin, Grim’s probably waiting for me. He gets nightmares if he falls asleep without a bedtime story!” He laughed nervously, already starting to walk toward the closed section of the Alchemor.
“Bumblebee.” Drift’s tone remained steady as he pressed further. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“What is this, an interrogation, Drift? I’m an adult; I don’t need to report every little thing I do at 1am, and—”
“Bee.” Drift interrupted him firmly. Stepping closer, he placed a strong yet gentle hand on Bee’s shoulder.
The shorter man with long hair framing had tense expression, hesitated for a moment, as if searching for an escape from a situation he knew he couldn’t wriggle out of.
“I…” He sighed heavily, averting his gaze. His voice trembled slightly as he finally admitted. “I went back there again.”
He avoided Drift's gaze, feeling like a scolded child caught in the act.
"Come with me, my friend." Drift looked at him gently.
He turned and walked toward the Alchemor, pushing open the ship's doors. Warm light spilled out onto the snow-covered ground, contrasting with the darkness they left behind.
"I’ll make you some tea. You’ll catch a cold if you stay out here in this weather for too long."
Bee quickly jogged to catch up with him.
Together, they stepped into the steel remnants of the ship that had become their shelter. Once a prison, the Alchemor now felt more like a home—filled with traces of everyday life.
Drift paused by the heavy doors, opening them with a smooth motion. Automatic lights brightened the room, revealing a mess hall transformed into something cozier, more akin to a homely kitchen. Bee settled at one of the tables, carefully placing the items he had brought with him in front of him. Drift moved to the kitchen area, his movements precise as he prepared Bee’s favorite tea—a small gesture of comfort to warm him after the cold winter night.
A few minutes later, Drift returned to his pensive companion, setting a dark, delicately patterned cup in front of him. The vessel held a warm brew made from Earth’s organic leaves, enriched with a touch of energon.
"You really do like these Earth leaves, don’t you, man?" Bee quipped softly, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he tried to ease the tension.
Drift glanced at him over his own cup, his gaze calm but piercing.
"Bumblebee, this is the sixth time this month you’ve returned to Nevada. What’s going on?"
Bee hesitated, his eyes flicking to the steaming tea before him, searching for answers in the swirling vapor.
"I don’t know, maybe... maybe it’s because the new year is starting soon." Bee began hesitantly, his voice uncertain. "And all that talk from Denny about memories and these so-called 'new opportunities' we can supposedly achieve in 2016, it kind of got me thinking. Though... I’m pretty sure he was just directing it at me."
"Or?" Drift asked softly, his tone patient as he lifted his own cup and took a measured sip of the warm tea.
"Or… since the last time I met witch uncle Jazz…" Bee trailed off, his voice faltering. He lowered his head, a shadow of vulnerability crossing his features. "Maybe the past came rushing back again. I thought staying here long enough would make it go away, but… I don’t even understand what I’m feeling anymore, Drift." His gaze dropped further. "I don’t know why everything has to feel so hard."
"Bumblebee..." Drift began, his voice calm but firm, "Going back there every time only hurts you more. You keep revisiting what you imagine were 'better times,' but those times never truly existed, did they? Didn’t you once tell me how many of you nearly died from starvation? Or how your human friend almost lost their life because of you? Isn’t that right?"
The shorter man nodded slowly, his eyes fixed on his reflection in the tea before him.
"My friend." Drift continued, his tone unwavering. "Your childhood is just as shadowed as your adult years. The only difference now is that with time and distance, your memories have grown hazy, no longer showing you the truth. Instead, they present what you think you remember, romanticizing your own pain." He never broke eye contact, his gaze steady and resolute.
For a moment, neither spoke. The silence, though brief, stretched between them, heavy with unspoken thoughts. Finally, Drift exhaled quietly.
"From now on, you’re not going there again, Bee. Or to any place like it, not without us."
"What?" Bee snapped, his tone rising as he looked up at Drift, indignation sparking in his eyes. "Are you grounding me?"
"I’m not 'grounding' you." Drift replied evenly. "I just want to make sure that our leader and friend doesn’t keep tormenting himself over a time that will never return."
"Oh, and what would you even know about that?" Bee shot back immediately, his voice sharp with defiance.
His tone grew sharp, as if trying to shield himself and his pain. He stood abruptly from the table and began pacing back and forth, gesturing nervously.
“From what I know, your past was terrible, and yet you don’t regret it! You don’t understand the pain of knowing you’re a failure, falling short of every expectation. Back then, I was something more... more than this.”
“More than the leader we all respect and care about?” Drift, still seated, lifted his teacup and calmly looked at his friend.
“You know that’s not what I meant!” Bee stopped and glared at him, his expression filled with resentment. “Don’t twist my words! And anyway, what do you even know…” He waved his hand dismissively and turned, as if ready to walk away.
Before he could take a step, Drift rose and blocked his path, standing directly in front of him.
“Sit down, Bee. Please.”
Bumblebee frowned, his face twisted in irritation as he stared at Drift. He seemed to hope the taller man would relent and let him leave. The silence between them became heavy and awkward, time stretching as neither moved. But Drift didn’t break his gaze, his stance unyielding yet warm.
After a moment, Bee let out a frustrated sigh and reluctantly returned to his seat at the table. Drift followed, sitting across from him again, setting his teacup down with deliberate care.
“There were things I dwelled on for years.” Drift began, his voice calm but filled with emotion. “That only hurt me and those around me. It pushed me to a point where I ran away from the battlefield. I just… couldn’t take it anymore. I only came back when the war was over.”
Bee looked at him in surprise, but said nothing.
"It wasn’t until Jetstorm and Slipstream came into my life that something changed. I realized that if I kept punishing myself for the mistakes of my youth, I would never be able to set a good example for them. Nor would I be able to give them the support they need to live without regrets like mine."
“It’s odd hearing that from someone whose son ran to us because he was afraid of being punished by you.” Bee said softly, his words landing like a blow.
Drift froze for a moment, though his expression remained calm, betraying only the slightest flicker of emotion.
“What I’m trying to tell you...” Drift said, his voice steady yet earnest. “Is that you’re not alone, Bee.”
Bee felt the tension within him slowly begin to dissipate. He looked at Drift, noticing the genuine concern in his friend’s eyes. Guilt swirled in his mind and his earlier words now seemed unnecessarily harsh.
“And maybe...” Drift continued, “By showing you that human tradition this morning, Denny was trying to tell you that perhaps you already have everything you’ve ever wanted. And maybe you should focus on taking care of it. Of our team. Of us.”
Bee exhaled quietly, his gaze meeting Drift’s. The sadness in Bee’s eyes was undeniable, but something in Drift’s words began to resonate with him.
Bee opened his mouth as if to speak, but no words came. He simply sat there, staring at his friend, searching Drift’s face as though hoping to find answers he couldn’t seem to grasp on his own.
“We’re here for you, Bee. No one expects you to handle everything on your own.” Drift said, pausing for a moment. “You don’t have to respond, just think about it.”
Bee took a deep breath and lowered his gaze, as if searching for the right words. Finally, he lifted his head, his voice barely above a whisper.
“I... Can we talk about this more tomorrow, Drift? Please... I need to rest.”
“Of course.” Drift nodded understandingly, lifting his cup to take another sip of the warm drink.
Bee quickly finished the tea Drift had made for him. His movements were mechanical, almost nervous, as though he wanted to leave the room as quickly as possible. Once done, he stood up, leaving the cup on the table without looking at his friend.
But before he walked out the door, he stopped. He stood there for a moment, then slowly turned his head toward Drift. His smile was soft, almost shy, but sincere. In that simple gesture, there was more than words could convey.
Drift returned the smile with a small nod of his own, and Bee left the room, leaving him alone.
The silence that followed wasn’t oppressive. It was calm, as though the room had been filled with reflection. Drift sat there for a moment longer, lost in thought, staring at the spot where Bee had just been.
Finally, he reached under his shirt and pulled out a small, worn photograph that he wore close to his chest like a talisman. The picture showed a younger Drift, more carefree, with a ginger boy wearing a yellow bandana standing beside him.
Drift looked at the photo, and a mixture of sadness and nostalgia crossed his face.
“Your speeches... they always help, Hot Rod.” he whispered to himself, giving a faint smile.