Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Megatron was standing next to Bumblebee, and the worst part was that was all he was doing.

Protocols were activating, warnings of danger lighting up in his HUD. They reopened as soon as he managed to close them, refusing to be tamed. The energon in his fuel lines was working double time. All of Jazz and Prowl’s files on resisting torture were aggressively pinging up.

Those were not a resource Bumblebee had at Tyger Pax. It would be a relief to have them now… If they weren’t functionally useless!

In all fairness, Megatron wasn’t appearing threatening in the slightest. His servos were clasped behind his back, his eyes fixated ahead, pointedly not on Bumblebee. When he spoke, he carried an air of levity, voice light and carefully tuned to not sound demeaning or angry.

It also helped that, when nobody was looking, Megatron was scooting away. So subtly that nobody noticed but them, and Bumblebee only knew because he couldn’t seem to tear his optics away from him. The fear made its home in his spark chamber and refused to leave.

Even Dot had yet to notice, and she was a former soldier and ranger. Noticing small things was kind of her job.

If Bumblebee wasn’t so downright miserable, he might’ve teased her for it.

Regardless of it all, Bumblebee was undeniably grateful that Megatron was not pulling attention to his discomfort. It was one of the little ways he proved he had changed for the better, no longer the bot who would make a spectacle of a tiny, frightened scout on a battlefield.

Bumblebee could add it to his list of reasons why he should not be scared. It wouldn’t help with overriding the frantic commands, still piling up, but he could pretend.

“But anyway, that should about cover it.” Dot was saying when she turned back around, waving off her kids who had been listening with utmost excitement. Her optics on them caused a spread of relief to sweep through Bumblebee’s systems.

Somebody was watching. Somebody would know if Megatron tried anything.

Not that he would, because as previously stated! The big M.T.? A good guy now! He’d never stab Bumblebee in the neck and call him weak and pathetic. At least, not to his face. Bumblebee sure felt pathetic and weak, shoving down the trembles into his tank so the rattling didn’t sound like anything at all.

“We really appreciate you stopping by, Megs.” Dot said, tapping her best friend on the pede. “The kids are really looking forward to learning some real bot fighting moves. Bumblebee’s been trying to teach ‘em, but… It’s not so easy with him being exhausted all the time.”

All at once, Megatron looked every bit as uncomfortable as Bumblebee felt. There was a twist of victory in Bumblebee’s chassis at the sight, which he immediately stifled. He was supposed to feel sorry for Megatron now, not sweet vindication.

“I did… not realize that’s what you called me here for.” Megatron deadpanned. “I am uncertain if that is the best idea. I led the brutal army of Decepticon warriors for thousands of cycles. I do not know the concept of “holding back”. My training modules back at G.H.O.S.T. are set to have no mercy, and I do not wish to spread that kind of ruthlessness to your children.”

“Haha,” Dot laughed sarcastically, blinking slowly up at him. “Yeah, no, you’re not getting out of it that easy. Bumblebee’s set to supervise you. He’ll make sure you don’t show the kids anything too gruesome. Keep away from the “turbo twister”, and you two should be all set.”

“Perhaps if Bumblebee is truly as tired as you claim, it would be best if he recharged while I took care of the children.” Megatorn scoffed, placing his servo over his chassis, nice and slow. It was a measured task, carefully calculated as to not be startling. “I am certain I can figure out how to teach them without him playing babysitter.”

“You just said you weren’t sure if you could handle it.” Dot hummed, pointing at him authoritatively, free hand on her hip. “Thanks, Megs, but I’d prefer if Bumblebee was there. He’s their guardian after Alex and I, after all, and he knows what they need.”

Bumblebee’s spark warmed from the praise. They had never quite put into words what his ranking was underneath the adult Maltos, but it felt good to know he was, at least, above Megatron. To a point, anyway.

“And if you two have a problem, you can sort it out amongst yourselves.” Dot continued, frowning between them. Bumblebee realized he was starting to lean away from Megatron without even noticing it, and she had picked up on that, at least. “Be adults about it, and don’t let it get in the way of the kids. Please?”

“Of course.” Megatron agreed, thumping his chassis with his fist one more time. “I will abide by your house rules.”

“I appreciate it.” Dot nodded, giving Bumblebee a once over. “Play nice, Bee. I know you don’t like being jobbed, but while you’re recovering from what Mandroid did to you…”

Megatron’s gaze raked over Bumblebee once again. Megatron had to have known about Bot Brawl, since he always seemed to be listening in on Optimus and Bumblebee’s communications. And yet, it still felt like his weakness was being called forward for observation. Like Megatron would take advantage of anything he could find.

But that wasn’t true. Megatron was good now. He had to remember that and force his processor to get a grip.

Still, it was both harder than he thought it would be and easier than he expected to coax his voice box into working again. It strained from the effort he put into it, clicking with static at first and then smoothing into something pleasant.

“I’ll take it easy, Lieutenant Malto,” Bumblebee promised. The title slipped from his intake before he could think better of it, cycle-old instincts kicking into overdrive right along with all his defense protocols. From Dot’s raised brow, she caught it instantly. “I’m sure Megatron will do great.”

“Uh huh.” She drawled, thoughtful. “If you need me, I’m only a call away.”

“Thanks, Dot.” Bumblebee managed to avoid titles the second time, giving her a smile twinged with pride. He could feel Megatron’s optics boring into him, and it made his plating itch. He wished he could tear his armor right off, like it was his stupid gold paint that was making Megatron stare. “But we should be fine.”

“Yes,” Megatron echoed blankly, and Bumblebee immediately felt his vocoder snapping shut again. “We should be.”

“Mmhmm.” Dot hummed, giving them both a suspicious look.

It took a shorter amount of time to get his voice rebooted, this time. “Go to work,” Bumblebee pushed, ignoring his instincts. Every single one was begging her to stay, to not leave him and her kids alone with a warlord. Dot. Please. Don’t. “We’ve got this. Stop worrying.”

“Okay.” Dot surrendered at long last, turning away with a final “I’m watching you” gesture. “Play nice, and don’t annoy Megs to death.”

Ah.

She didn’t actually trust Bumblebee that much at all, then. Worse than that, she trusted Megatron to behave more than Bumblebee. Did she actually even want Bumblebee around her children at all? Was he supposed to show Megatron where he left off in the kids’ training, and then step back?

First his voice, now his purpose.

What else would Megatron take from him?

No, no, that was wrong! Megatron was good now. He wasn’t stealing anything! Bumblebee had to calm down. He had to remember that the warframe was on his side now.

Bumblebee forced his pedes to turn, making his way to the corral where the Terrans were already stretching. His back was to Megatron within five pedesteps, and that just made the fear worse.

He had a two nano-klik head start, but it would never be enough. Megatron would be upon him within–

No time at all! None! Because why would M.T. ever attack him? He was on their side.

Regardless, every step away was an effort. His sensors strained to keep Megatron in his field, waiting for sudden movements and finding none.

Megatron, after all, was following at a less than energetic pace and was falling further and further behind, pedes practically dragging. Bumblebee considered taking back his appreciation that Megatron was trying so hard not to draw attention to them. After all, acting like a downtrodden sparkling was just the thing to get Dot’s attention on them again.

That train of thought was also exactly what would get Megatron to kill him if he voiced it out loud. Thank Primus for little mercies, like Bumblebee finally learning to watch what he said around Megatron.

He just wished it had kicked in for everyone else, too. Because Bumblebee could be such a motor mouth.

They reached the corral after a klik that had stretched on for an eternity. Bumblebee leaned against the wood posts, reinforced to support the weights of bots endlessly crashing into them. “Hey, Maltobots!” He called.

He felt a shudder ripple through his frame as Megatron joined him, slinking into eyeshot and leaning against the fence, too. He had to calm down. He had to be a good example in front of the Terrans, because they were easily influenced.

They would learn to fear Megatron if Bumblebee was afraid, and they really couldn’t have that. Dot would never forgive him.

“Hey, Bee!” Twitch called back, rotor blades flicking on her backside. Her siblings waved enthusiastically beside her. “We’re just warming up! Before training!”

“Warming up?” Megatron grumbled, so quietly only Bumblebee heard. “Cybertronians do not need to warm up.”

Bumblebee’s intake felt awfully dry, like the gears were going to freeze in place, ungreased. “Right, well… The humans need to. And they’re… Robby and Mo join in sometimes.”

“But not today.”

“School.” Bumblebee said helplessly.

They watched the kids stretch for a moment longer. Bumblebee had a feeling Megatron was only entertaining the idea so that Bumblebee could wrangle his emotions back into place. No matter what his personal feelings were, he had to put on a good show for the kids.

It took him only a klik to stabilize himself. It still wasn’t good enough, with how close Megatron was standing. It wasn’t Megatron’s fault that Bumblebee was too paranoid for his own good. It was Bumblebee’s stupid processor.

After all, Megatron had killed so many people, but everyone else had moved on. They had forgiven him, they trusted him. Bumblebee was the only one stuck in the past, because of one stupid voice box. One that had, ultimately, been replaced in the end.

Why was Bumblebee the only problem here?

He swallowed down whatever fear he could, stamping it down into scrap. It filled his tank regardless, but at least he was able to scrounge his face plates into something resembling a smile.

“Okay, kids, that’s enough!” Bumblebee announced, and the Terrans straightened enthusiastically. Primus, he loved them. He jerked a thumb towards Megatron, who startled at the sudden address. “Megatron is going to be handling your training today. Say “hello, T.A. Megatron”!”

“What–?”

“Hello, T.A. Megatron!” Four of the Terrans chimed simultaneously.

Nightshade was the only one to enthusiastically report, “Hello, teacher’s assistant Megatron!”

Megatron didn’t even shoot Bumblebee a disgusted expression, like he would have if Optimus had been the one to downgrade him to a lowly assistant. His face did screw up, but it wasn’t directed at anyone or anything.

New appreciation found its way into Bumblebee’s spark chamber. Not that it changed the fear still flooding his tank, but that was fine. Everything was fine.  

“I’m so excited for Megatron to teach us a couple of moves!” Jawbreaker exclaimed excitedly, shadowboxing the air with utmost enthusiasm. “One of the best warriors in all of Cybertron! Teaching us!”

Megatron snorted, finally pulling away from Bumblebee’s side to pad into the corral. Bumblebee finally let out a quiet vent, feeling a surge of relief flood his systems. With the newfound space, his fear finally began to abate.

At a distance, Megatron didn’t seem nearly so scary, guiding the children on how to stand, and what to do. He wouldn’t hurt the children, and the thought was so much easier to grasp when Bumblebee was left alone. 

Bumblebee crept into the corral as well, inching along the sides until he reached one of the haystacks lining the fence. He sank down with a weary sigh, his joints creaking slightly. Dot had been right. He was too tired for much of anything after Mandroid drained his energon.

It would probably be better if Bumblebee went into the barn to recharge for a bit, but she had also told him to keep an eye out. Make sure Megatron wasn’t too ruthless.

Which was funny, because if anyone taught the kids to be gutless in combat, it would be Grimlock, and he already had his chance with the kids. Tried to temper it down, sure. Succeeded? Bumblebee dared not ask.

“What better bot,” Megatron said to the Terrans, snapping Bumblebee out of his melancholy, “to teach you how to fight than a warframe? The art of battle is ingrained into my system.”

Bumblebee winced to himself. Careful, Megs. Your prejudice is showing.

“Oh!” Twitch gushed, folding out her arm cannon. “I’m a warframe, too! Does that mean I’m better at fighting than my siblings?” Then she flushed, saluting with her untransformed servo. “I mean, sir!”

“No,” Megatron chuckled, taking both her arm and cannon into his servos, turning them beneath his digits. “It means you have an inherent advantage over them, yes. But it does not make you lesser or better. What matters is how you apply those skills. Elita-1, for example, is the best fighter I know. And she is a regular frame. No enhancements to speak of.”

Bumblebee felt himself relax. Of course Megatron wasn’t like that anymore. He simply meant that with his added arsenal, he could demonstrate abilities few others could.

He guessed the paranoia still hadn’t completely abated. Bumblebee had to get over himself. No matter what.

(:)

Training ended five groons later. They had taken a couple breaks throughout, sipping on their cave water or munching on energon jellies Wheeljack had brought over the previous solar-cycle. But finally, as the humans hopped off the school bus and approached the house, Megatron decided to conclude the training.

“Go,” he instructed, pointing towards the excited and waving Robby and Mo. “Have fun for the rest of the evening.”

“Yessir, Megatron sir!” Thrash burst out, blasting off before the rest of his siblings to bundle his eldest sister up in his arms. The other four followed no less enthusiastically, excited to throw themselves at their organic siblings and relax after a long day of training.

Bumblebee felt something deep in his spark warm, watching them cheer each other on and show off what they learned to Robby and Mo. Pride, perhaps, even though he wasn’t the one to teach them. He was happy to see them relax.

A servo sticking itself in front of his face made him jump, skid plate shoving against the fence. It creaked under the sudden assault, but held steady as Bumblebee lifted shocked optics up to Megatron.

“Apologies,” Megatron rumbled, taking a step back but not taking his servo away. “I simply wished to offer you a servo up. You’ve been recharging on your pedes for the last two groons.”

His spark burned too fast to be healthy, taking in the sight of the servo only a few inches behind him, and its wielder, casting him in shadow. He had to calm down. He had been fine, why couldn’t he hold onto the feeling of tranquility–

Bumblebee forced himself to grab Megatron’s servo. Cold, calloused digits wrapping around his wrist, and yet it burned. Megatron pulled him up to his pedes, a bit too fast for Bumblebee’s already addled senses, and the fear flushed through his fuel lines all at once.

He withdrew as soon as Megatron’s grip loosened, his forearm pressed against his chassis defensively.

“Hmm.” Megatron frowned, red optics searing over Bumblebee. “And here I thought you had finally calmed down.”

“Yeah,” Bumblebee said quietly, keeping his own gaze fully on Megatron. He wanted to look away, but none of his danger systems would let him do that. “I wish.”

Megatron sighed, reaching up to pinch the space between his optics. “You need to talk to someone about this. If only it could be me, but it’s clear that’s not possible. But now, it does not matter who. Optimus, I’m sure, would understand. And Dorothy has always been more than understanding with my own troubles.”

“I know.” Bumblebee said bitterly, feeling like he was two hundred years old again and pinned underneath a merciless servo, barely able to answer questions as they were thrown at him.

He had started out trying to be witty, trying to laugh in the face of danger. But the pressure had increased, and his steam had quickly run out. The most he had been able to do was mutter out short non-answers to Megatron’s demands.

What a curse, to be Optimus’ personal scout, blessed with information even people with higher ranks could only dream of obtaining. There was a target on his back, because while Optimus was constantly protected and shielded by all, Bumblebee was on his own most of the time.

Additionally, even worse than that, Bumblebee knew where Optimus was going to be every time. He had to know if he was to deliver information quickly and easily. Information that they couldn’t risk the Decepticons obtaining by intercepting a signal.

At Tyger Pax, Bumblebee had held out longer than any scout had before. He held out so long that Megatron had ripped out his voice box, spat in his face, and left him for dead. He hadn’t even tried hacking Bumblebee’s processor.

Thank Primus for that, because Bumblebee would’ve sooner initiated his self-destruction protocols then let that happen. Optimus knew that. Megatron knew that.

That willing acceptance to end everything for the cause was the only reason he was standing right here, with Megatron, on this solar-cycle. Megatron wouldn’t hurt him, anymore. He wouldn’t torture Bumblebee until he longed for death, begged Primus for it, because he was good now.

Bumblebee had to remember that he was safe here. So safe. It was unprecedented just how safe he was.

“If you know,” Megatron pressed, struggling against his clear instinct to fall into a glower. The neutrality of his face was almost painful to watch. “Then we wouldn’t be in this situation. Instead, you have subjected us both to having to ‘save face’ in front of Dorothy and the sparklings.”

Bumblebee flinched.

“The sparklings do not need their teacher to be a bad example on top of everything else. If you are not taking care to avoid triggering situations, what are they supposed to think? They are impressionable youth. They will copy you.” Megatron continued, voice building in harshness. 

Bumblebee could feel himself starting to shrink, and was unable to stop himself from doing so.

“Optimus told me you were partially raised by Breakdown. Your first twelve cycles, taken care of by that–!” Megatron cut himself off with a growl. Bumblebee felt worry for his brother start to lock in. “Nevermind. But surely you can see, in yourself, times when he fell short in your upbringing. The Terrans are too important for you to screw up.”

Bumblebee had never failed an objective before. For Megatron to even suggest such a thing was…

It was…

Frag.

Megatron was worming his way underneath Bumblebee’s plating, and the scout was letting him. Whether it was on purpose on Megatron’s part or not.

“I won’t.” Bumblebee whispered, feeling his bottom derma start to tremble. 

Megatron stared at him, optics scanning him over, like he was searching for a weakness.

All of Bumblebee was weak. One hit, and he’d be a pile of scrap. He was nothing but a distraction, but he was a poor excuse for one. There’d be no fight. Just desperate screaming for relief, whether out loud at Megatron or just in his processor at Primus.

“Bumblebee.” Megatron summoned. The scout barely managed to keep his pedes rooted firmly. “May you please try to hold a conversation with me?”

There was nothing Bumblebee could say. There was nothing he could do.

“Fine. Clearly, you are two worked up to have a proper discussion. Simply… consider talking about this with someone. You already know that I do not count.” Megatron turned away, his back to Bumblebee now.

Bumblebee itched from the want to fire at him, when his guard was dropped. Transform his arm cannon out and take aim. He was so close to eliminating that evil for good. But he couldn’t, because Megatron wasn’t bad anymore at all.

Megatron transformed, his turbines kicking in, dust spitting out from around him in curling clouds. Bumblebee couldn’t even lift up a servo to cover his optics.

He watched Megatron until he was gone, disappearing over the tips of the trees. The noise of his engines was gone after another couple nano-kliks. Still, Bumblebee’s spark burned from the close encounter, as if it couldn’t grasp that he made it out alive.

Optics stinging and chassis constricting, Bumblebee pivoted and ran for the first safe spot he could find to panic.

Megatron was right; he couldn’t afford to show weakness to the Terrans.

(:)

Alex found him a groon later, huddled along the backside of the house, where none of the kids ever went, with his digits shoved against his mouth in a curled fist.

“Oh,” Alex said, worriedly. “Oh, nonono. Bee, what happened?”

Blue optics snapped over to stare at him, and a tremble rattled its way through Bumblebee’s frame. He was trying to process who – or, rather, what – Alex was. Safe, right? He was an ally. Someone to trust.

Alex wasn’t looking at him, thinking he didn’t deserve to be on the Autobots because he was panicking over Megatron simply standing too close to him. For trying to talk to him. Alex was just worried about a friend. That was nice of him.

Primus, was that nice of him?!

“Bumblebee, come on.” Alex put a hand on Bumblebee’s pede. The suddentity of it – it wasn’t actually that sudden, Bumblebee had clearly seen him walk up – made him want to kick the human away. He barely resisted, but only because he had been trying to hold himself back so much already today that it was practically second nature at this point. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

His vocoder throbbed in his pipes, vibrating against his metal plating. It broke out of his pipes as a low whine, the sound of metal being thrown into a grinder, splintering to pieces. Claws on a chalkboard.

“Oh. Oh dear.”

Alex was a true master at words.

Bumblebee turned his helm away in shame, hunching his shoulders to hide his face plate. He wasn’t sure how to put into words what he felt. How terrified he was. Megatron was such a looming presence in his life, had haunted him since he was less than three vorns old up until now.

He was supposed to be past this, and yet. Here he was, curled up against their house as small as he could get. It wasn’t even that hidden. Windows literally faced out towards him, it was just that…

With the house to his back and the woods to his front, it made it hard for people to sneak up on him. He was safe-ish here. He could run in any direction if someone came at him. He would not be easily surrounded. Bumblebee was fine.

Nothing was even happening. Megatron wasn’t hunting him and the Allspark down, he wasn’t serving as a distraction or just being a scout. He was sitting, with his best friend staring up at him, and a thousand noises echoing out of the trees.

He wasn’t hurt. Bumblebee had to remember that.

Megatron wasn’t hurting him.

“I’ll just sit here for a bit,” Alex announced, stretching out his legs as he flopped next to Bumblebee, his back to the wall. “I have to make dinner in half an hour, but I’ll be here until then. Does that sound good to you, Bee?”

That was one question Bumblebee could answer. It was hard to get words out, because every time he tried it felt like his vocoder was the only thing in place, his voice box wrenched out of him. But at least he could nod.

He nodded fervently.

Alex laughed, a tad nervous, maybe, but mostly cheerful and loving. “Okay! Okay, Bee. I’ll stay here. Maybe one of the kids can cook dinner tonight, too. They’ve watched me enough, they should know how to make my chicken adobo at the very least!”

If they ate energon, that would remove the need altogether. Slide a jar into place underneath the diffuser and shove a hard chunk in on top, and watch it melt into liquid. A full day’s filling in fifteen minutes.

If Bumblebee could say as much, Alex would complain that energon had no flavour like that. It was an argument they had before, standing over the human’s grill and watching him cook chicken.

Sometimes, Bumblebee wished the Terrans shared his nutrient source. It was just another way that isolated him here. Made him feel like an “other” in alien territory. And technically, he was the only alien in their territory.

An Autobot behind Decepticon lines. A Cybertronian on a human-and-Terran world. 

And yet, he was one of them.

Alex leaning against his side proved that much. The way the Terrans stared up at him with optics glowing was another mark in his direction. Robby and Mo loved sitting on his shoulders, and when Dot was in a friendly mood, she asked him to drive her to the ranger’s station and spend the day with her.

It wasn’t perfect, but it was good. It was a place both he and Megatron belonged and were welcome, and he had to make peace with that. He wasn’t going to keep Dot’s best friend away just because he was a little shellshocked. And nor should Megatron stay away.

He had to stop treating Bumblebee like a scared sparkling. Bumblebee logically knew it was only a matter of time before Megatron stopped pretending to be nice altogether. And yet, the next time he saw Megatron, he’d be standing a safe distance away. Just like he always had.

It didn’t matter how often he got frustrated at Bumblebee. His patience would return in no time at all. And try as he might, Bumblebee couldn’t return the favour.

Did Optimus send Bumblebee away, not to hunt for information about G.H.O.S.T., not to protect him, but instead give Megatron an out? So he wouldn’t have to keep going out of his way to make Bumblebee comfortable?

Bumblebee knew that wasn’t true. But it sometimes felt like it was. Like everyone was just like Dot and loved a murderer and executioner more than him. Their “lovable” scout. Quotations on the lovable, because…

If they knew how weak he was, would they still love him?

People made sacrifices for love. If Alex found out Bumblebee was scared of his wife’s best friend, would Alex hate him? Maybe, maybe not. It was hard to tell the difference between logic and his fumbling processor.

Being a scout was all about noticing all possible angles, even the most unlikely ones. It was the most unlikely ones that got one caught. It was seeing a small party of Decepticons heading towards the launch site and figuring you just had to lead them away. It was learning that they were scouts, too, leading a much bigger party. One that contained Megatron.

It was losing everything because he messed up once. He couldn’t afford to screw up again. He couldn’t afford to be kicked out of the family simply because he couldn’t live and let live.

Chapter Text

Two orbital cycles later, and Bumblebee was driving into the newly overturned and remastered G.H.O.S.T. base. The last humans left in the base were the Maltos and the four G.H.O.S.T. agents who had helped during the final battle against Mandroid.

Jon, Kwan, Conway, and Rosato were doing their part in helping the Autobots fix up the base and keep an eye on the Decepticons. They were, Bumblebee was certain, why human-sized doors even remained in the base. Once everything was evacuated out of a room, though, they helped weld it shut.

G.H.O.S.T., after all, now belonged to the Autobots. To have there be areas they could not access was a bit… creepy. Twitch and Thrash were about the only Transformers who could fit, but they didn’t tend to like to be around the base. “Too much work”, they said.

Besides, the twins were busy soaking up each other’s and their other siblings’ presence. They had, after all, witnessed one another almost – if not completely – die.

Honestly, all the Maltos deserved the rest. They had been watching out for each other more now then they ever had before, relying on one another’s presences like they would die if they got too far out of sight.

Bumblebee had been witness to all too many nightmares and anxious servo-and-hand wringing to know that much. He had tried to be there where he could, but…

They were doing fine without him. They always had; he just never wanted to accept it.

Bumblebee transformed in the hanger, taking sight of the rows of G.H.O.S.T. vans still lining the area. He had never been completely comfortable with the idea of vehicles; that there could be frames so empty and lifeless but look so much like them. It was little comfort to know that the vehicles had never carried sparks in the first place, but still.

“Fun,” Bumblebee muttered, stretching out his pedes. He still felt sore from the battle, but short of replacing all his joints, Wheeljack had done all he could for Bumblebee. “Home sweet home.”

“Ha, sure.” Elita-1’s voice startled Bumblebee, and he pivoted around, surprised to see her standing near the entryway, a stack of crates precariously balanced in one servo. “It doesn’t even feel like home to us yet, and we’ve been bunked here for the last decade. So I doubt it feels more familiar to you.”

“Need some help with those?” Bumblebee asked, shaking off his embarrassment to approach her, holding out his servos willingly.

“No, but I’ll take some.” Elita-1 handed him two crates, keeping the other three in her grip. “It’s nice to have you back from the dead to help us out, Bee. Prime’s been a hardaft lately. There’s a lot to do, and it’s been stressing him out.”

“Can’t really blame him for that.”

“No.” Elita-1 agreed. “Usually he’s more laid-back. Or tries to fake it, anyway. It’s been a while since he’s had a project he can throw himself into, and I think the suddenness of it caught him off guard. We were expecting to defect, you know. Not overtake.”

“Thank goodness the human government isn’t throwing a fit over G.H.O.S.T. getting overrun.” Bumblebee sighed, trudging with her up the corridor and out of the base. “I really don’t want us to get engaged in another war so soon after ending the last one.”

“I’d like it if we never had to go to war at all, ever again.” Elita-1 grumbled, setting the crates down on a steadily building pile next to the entrance. “If the Decepticons behave, maybe then Shockwave can help Wheeljack reverse engineer whatever’s left of the Groundbridge, together, and figure out how to increase the range and get home. Huh, that’s quite an idea…”

“Shockwave and Wheeljack working together? Willingly?” Bumblebee chuckled, shaking his head. “No, I bet we have another orbital-cycle of the Decepticons playing nice before they stab us in the struts.”

“I think they’ll go in spurts.” Elita-1 bartered. “It’s a toss-up which of the big three S-tiers peel off first, but everyone else will eventually follow. I’ll bet my last cube of hi-grade that Breakdown will be the last to leave, though.”

“Oh? Why’s that?”

Elita-1 shot him a deadpan look. “I’m not answering that.”

Bumblebee pretended like the realization didn’t immediately click together, and just offered her a slow blink in return. “Riiight, whatever you say, Elita-1. Anyway, I better get going. That “hardaft” wanted to talk to me about something.”

“Uh-huh.” Elita-1 snorted. “See you…”

Bumblebee transformed again, if only so he could save any awkward time of them walking in the same direction, and raced back into the base. He didn’t revert back in the hanger, instead skirting around the sides of the vans to reach one of the corridors on the other end.

He almost ran over Nova Storm as he blazed through, ignoring her less-than-polite language over having to dodge. “You fragging Autobots! Why did we even fragging join this scrapheap if you’re going to attack us either way?! Go to the pits! Frag! You!”

Well. Bumblebee prayed nobody would be checking security footage later, because that was definitely his fault. If she went up the chain and complained to Starscream – Starscream, the actual leader of the Deceptions, official main peacekeeper between the factions, oh, the thought made Bumblebee laugh – then there’d probably be a good argument coming his way.

It was probably fine, though. Nova Storm and Skywarp tended to be a superficial bunch. Unless someone spurned on their grudges, they usually forgot things pretty quickly.

Bumblebee hoped so, anyway.

He reverted back to root mode just to be safe, continuing the rest of his trek on foot.

Wheeljack looked up when he entered the original Autobot faction of the base, pulling away from Teletraan-1. “Well, look who it is! Did we have a checkup set up? Because, I gotta admit… I don’t really have much time today, Bumblebee.”

“No, no checkup.” Bumblebee reassured. “I’ve pretty much self-repaired everything. No broken bolts or loose screws or cut fuel lines… I’m barely sore anymore! You did great, Wheeljack, in another deca-cycle I bet I’ll be ready to throw down with the best of them again, and–” He cut himself off from his friendly rambling, shaking his head.

The Autobots didn’t really like a chatterbox. They had made that clear, what with giving him the silent treatment when he delved too far into pointless topics. Honestly, he was lucky his conversation with Elita-1 had lasted as long as it did.

He had just… Gone for most of his life without his voice, and then had to go an extra fifteen years with nobody to talk to but himself. Everything ached, his spark, his processor, his vocoder. He tried to make up for it now, but it was easy to tell that a lot of the time, Bumblebee’s unsolicited thoughts weren’t welcome.

Ah, the pains of growing up, he supposed. It was no longer “cute” and “amusing” to ramble. To everyone else, he was just plain frustrating.

“Sorry,” Bumblebee cleared his throat awkwardly. “Uh, Optimus is in his office?”

“Yup,” Wheeljack nodded, jerking his thumb up towards the sealed doors up at the top. “Careful, he’s been a bit stingy lately. Been letting the stress of having Decepticons here get to him.”

“Frag you too,” Hardtop snapped, lounging against the wall and sipping a cube of energon. “But you haven't thrown us into a cell yet – again – so I guess I can’t be too mad.”

“Maybe we should, since you sure aren’t pulling your weight!” Wheeljack snapped, pressing his servos against his hips. “Lazy spawn of Unicron…”

“Better than a stuck-up rust bucket!”

“I’ll leave you two to it,” Bumblebee gave them awkward finger guns, and hoped their subsequent deaths at one another’s servos wouldn’t be pegged on him.

It probably wouldn’t, and he was just being paranoid by all the times a Terran had broken their sibling during training or a game and he had to explain it to Dot. That woman could be ruthless when it came to her kids’ safety.

He descended up the stairs to Optimus’ office, hesitating for just a nano-klik before knocking and buzzing open the door.

Bumblebee winced to himself when he let the noise of the argument outside in with him, but he couldn’t be bothered with that right now. Optimus looked up when he entered, optics glowing a soft blue. His desk was littered with data pads and thumb drives.

Before him sat an oversized human-esque computer, for easier file downloads and communication with the branches of human government that had yet to try to control them. At least some of them understood that the Autobots left on earth were trying to be diplomatic.

Looking over the mess, Bumblebee found he couldn’t tell the difference between Optimus’ completed piles and the ones he was still working on. Sympathy rose up in his spark. No wonder the Prime had been so stressed as his workload kept building.

Optimus had been left with more to work on than Agent Croft had, and that was probably, in part, to her shrinking her duties in favour of figuring out ways to control the bots around her. Now, in the wake of her death, Optimus was left to deal with the fallout.

“You don’t look like you’re doing so hot,” Bumblebee put in, sliding down into the chair across from Optimus. Absentmindedly pushing one of the datapads that was hanging precariously off the edge of the table, Bumblebee found himself watching Optimus.

“It has been a rough orbital cycle,” Optimus returned with a sigh, digits reaching up to message his audials. “How has your recovery from our assault been going?”

“Fine,” Bumblebee said, frowning at his leader. He had recovered from Bot Brawl, only to almost immediately be thrown back into the throngs of war. First against Agent Croft and her G.H.O.S.T. bots, and then against the mind-controlled Autobots.

Aside from Elita-1 and Megatron, they had all got their fair shot of tussling with Bumblebee, and he had paid the consequence for each one. At least Wheeljack had scrapped him back together. Nightshade had helped, too.

Optimus, however, had taken the brunt of the guilt from it. The Prime was always concerned about everyone, and armed with the knowledge that he had assisted in beating Bumblebee within an inch of his spark, well. It probably wasn’t helping his stress.

“A little sore,” Bumblebee continued, “but other than that, I’m okay, really.”

“That’s good,” Optimus said, in a tone of voice that said he wasn’t fully convinced. “If it gets worse, ensure you check in with Wheeljack immediately. I know he is not the medic that Ratchet was, but he has been doing well in his studies and will continue to improve, and–”

“Optimus, you’ve got to relax.” Bumblebee stretched his arm back, wrapping it around the back of his chair as he looked up at his Prime. “I know Wheeljack’s doing great. He’s scraped me back together twice now.”

“Right,” Optimus dully responded, and looked back down at his keyboard forlornly.

Really, Elita-1 and Wheeljack? This is the “hardaft” and “stingy” Optimus you’ve been complaining about? He’s acting like Hashtag does when she can’t get onto the wifi! Bumblebee rolled his optics, leaning over to shut the computer.

Optimus ripped his servos away right before the computer could snap shut over his digits, giving Bumblebee a startled expression. “What are you–”

“You’ve really got to get out of your head, man.” Bumblebee chided. “Talk to me. You can take a break for a second.” He hesitated. “A nano-klik, sorry. But you’ve been overworked for a good while now.”

“Perhaps to the humans,” Optimus said, distantly, “but to us Cybertronians, an orbital-cycle is a blink of an eye. I can finish the rest of the work in three, and then I can properly rest.”

“An orbital-cycle is an orbital-cycle, no matter what species you are, OP. It doesn’t matter how long we live for, it’s still too much.”  Bumblebee interrupted, keeping his palm pressed down over the top of the computer so Optimus couldn’t try to reopen it. “Everyone’s worried about you, myself included. When’s the last time you’ve recharged? Eaten?”

“Elita-1 made sure I remained in my berth for a full ten groons last lunar-cycle.” Optimus reassured. “And Arcee brought me some energon cubes just this morning. Megatron even ensured I took a walk recently. I assure you, Bee, you’re not the only one concerned, and I’ve been heeding everyone’s advice.” Warm optic ridges raised. “I am not one of the Terrans.”

Bumblebee laughed, “Of course you’re not. But just because you listened to our advice doesn’t mean that you’ve actually done any relaxing. But I don’t think there’s anything you or I can do to fix that. You’re an overachiever, Optimus.”

Optimus’ huffed out a dry laugh under his breath. “Unfortunately, that seems to be a flaw of mine, Bumblebee. Funny how I never used to think of that as a bad thing…”

“Yeah, I hear that.” Bumblebee sighed, and pulled his servo off the computer and tucked it over the back of his chair, reclining back.

They sat in silence for a few kliks, Optimus staring at his workload spread out before him, and Bumblebee running simulations in his processor. Short of becoming Optimus’ secretary, there wasn’t a lot Bumblebee wouldn’t do to help him out. He could pick up a few data pads to do at the Maltos’ during the less busy groons. He could tackle Optimus’ homework while his Prime took a solar-cycle off.

But Bumblebee would not be crammed in this stuffy office without so much of a glimpse of sunlight for solar-cycles on end. Which was what Optimus needed most of all. Company and sustainable help.

“I am glad you are back with us,” Optimus said after a beat, holding a data pad gingerly between his servos. “I have missed having you close to me. I have hated every klik I spoke of you as if you were dead.”

“And I’ve hated being dead.” Bumblebee joked, but sobered at Optimus’ sad expression. “But, seriously. I know how you feel about deception and that whole lot. I appreciate you looking out for me. I appreciate you caring so much, that you kept me away from G.H.O.S.T.. Really, I do.”

“I know.” Optimus agreed. “You are near to my spark, Bumblebee.”

“And you’re near to mine.”

The silence continued for a little longer. Optimus turned a downtrodden gaze to his data pads, setting the one he was holding down to slide open the computer. He stared at the screen aimlessly, like it would drop the solution for his burden into his lap and relieve some of the stress.

Bumblebee guessed that was why he was called here in the first place. “Okay, O.P., talk to me. You brought me here, tell me what you need me to do. You’ve got a mission or something, right? Put me on the field, I’m ready.”

Optimus rolled his optics. “I nearly feel bad that I do have a mission for you, and I did not invite you to simply “hang out”.”

“Oh, we haven’t hung out since I was a sparkling doing homework in your office.”

“This is true,” Optimus agreed. “We will have to rectify that. You reached the age of maturity six stellar-cycles ago, did you not? We’ll visit the Spacebridge Memorial soon, and take some hi-grade.”

Bumblebee rolled his optics. “Nice as that sounds, you’re dancing around the question of “what’s my new assignment” an awful lot. If you’re worried about the Terrans, don’t be. They handle themselves pretty well when the kids are at school, and they survived a whole orbital cycle without me when I was discovered. They’re doing just fine.”

“I was not worried about them,” Optimus denied, a little too quickly to be genuine. “But yes, admittedly, it is a longer mission. It will likely take you a full deca-cycle to complete. I have already checked with the Maltos that it is fine with them.”

“Right, so you shouldn’t be worried about the kids at all.”

“I’m worried about how you will handle being away from them,” Optimus corrected. “You care about them a great deal, and I can foresee your connection being a hindrance for your missions, at least until they reach their third vorn.”

“That’s literally over two hundred cycles from now.” Bumblebee grunted, but he got it. He had been younger than three vorns when Megatron had stolen his voice, and he had seen how stiff and uncertain it had made Optimus.

The idea that someone would hurt Bumblebee simply for being close to Optimus had haunted him. He had made a couple bad choices then, but none that anyone blamed him for.

“I’ll be fine, Optimus.” Bumblebee promised. “Tell me what you need.”

“I do not trust the Decepticons.” Optimus said, immediately, and they both looked towards the door as one, like that admission would summon the ‘Cons themselves. “They are… their sudden change of loyalties is a welcome surprise, but a suspicious one.”

“Man, don’t let Megatron hear you talking like that.”

“Megatron knows my reservations.” Optimus told him. “As a matter of fact, he agrees with me. He wants to trust them, desperately, but we both worry about their ulterior motives. We need solid proof about what’s going on.”

“So you want me to do some snooping. Earn their trust, learn their motives, pretend to be one?”

“What? No.” Optimus shook his head. “Not anything nearly that underhanded. We simply know where one of their bases is. It has been abandoned ever since Megatron joined the Autobots, but it’s still connected to their servers, and we haven’t entered it in cycles.”

“Oh, I see. So you want me to search everything in that thing. Hack the computers, scour commlink channels, check entry logs for other bases, see where they’re going when we’re not watching?”

“Precisely.” Optimus agreed, reaching into his desk and pulling a data pad out of one of the locked drawers. “This should have all the information you need on the mission. Make sure it’s the right one, because Primus knows I can stand to be more organized.”

Bumblebee clicked on the data pad, skimming the information quickly. Sure enough, everything added up. He pulled a transfer cord out of his arm and plugged it into the data pad, downloading the information. “Okay, great. When do you want me to head out?”

“The morning after tomorrow.” Optimus told him. “You’ll get an early start, likely before the Terrans awake, so say your goodbyes that night.”

“Ah, roger.”

“Also…” Optimus hesitated. “You’ll see for yourself once you finish downloading the data, but you will not be going alone.”

“Oh?” Bumblebee said absently, studying the progress bar. “Who’s the lucky bot?”

“Megatron.”

Bumblebee felt everything in his processor come to an abrupt halt. The progress bar stopped filling, his fuel lines stopped pulsing, his background tasks stalled, and it felt like his spark was no longer online. He wondered if this was what humans defined as “bluescreening”.

“Oh.” Bumblebee blinked. “How unexpected.” Slowly, everything began clicking back online, but a steadily growing panic meter popped up, too. Hopefully, he could get out of the conversation before it overfilled.

He was supposed to be calm when Megatron wasn’t actively in a room, so what was wrong with him?

“Yes,” Optimus mildly agreed. “It is… not your usual partner.”

Who even was his “usual partner” anymore, really? Blurr, Mirage, and Cliffjumper were all dead or stuck on Cybertron, and none of them knew where they fell in that lineup. Not to mention, Optimus no longer took him on missions with him. Arcee seemed to avoid him ever since she dragged the twins into the throngs of battle, and…

So. Megatron was no more unusual compared to anyone else. He was a good guy, on their side and everything. Bumblebee was perfectly chill.

“Hey, no worries,” Bumblebee forced himself to grin. It slotted onto his face easily enough, and he hoped it looked genuine. “Why him, specifically? I assume because he knows his way around the base pretty well?”

“In part.” Optimus agreed. “We also have gotten our insignias recertified after removing G.H.O.S.T.’s badges. We have decided against replacing Megatron’s Decepticon symbol for the time being, because its signature frequency could prove useful for missions like these.”

He paused for a moment, giving the door behind Bumblebee another glance. “Wheeljack even managed to give him new credentials based on scans he has managed to get from our Decepticon allies during medical exams. He can get you into any facility you wish without alarms.”

“That makes sense,” Bumblebee readily agreed. He was going to snap something in half as soon as he had some privacy, he could tell. “Well, I’m game! Does he already know about all this?”

“He does.” Optimus reassured. “I had not yet decided who would be best to accompany him at the time, or if you’d even be available with your current assignment. He may be expecting Elita-1, since she was the backup option. Megatron will meet you here when you depart.”

“Oh, great.” Bumblebee nodded. He could already feel the onsets of fear sweeping up. But, hey, a mission with Megatron, right? Just the two of them. Maybe that would force Bumblebee to get a hold of himself and prove that he wasn’t held back by what happened seven hundred cycles ago.

He was a good scout. Optimus’ best scout. He could handle anything.

The download completed, and Bumblebee unplugged the data pad from his arm. He handed it back, and Optimus tucked it back away.

“I appreciate this, Bumblebee.” Optimus told him. “It will take a great amount of stress off my shoulders, you doing this for me.”

“Yeah, of course.” Bumblebee reassured. “It’ll be my pleasure to figure out what’s going on behind their optics. I’ll keep us safe.”

“I know you will.” Optimus smiled, gentle. “Thank you.”

Bumblebee gave him a two-fingered salute, and turned to go. He was out the door quickly, closing it firmly behind him. The argument had cleared out at some point while he was in the meeting, and the quiet came with a wave of relief.

He really wanted to break something. Or purge his tanks. Maybe both.

It was in a dull fog that Bumblebee navigated out of the base, greeting everyone with a smile and a wave but feeling the dread creep up on him. He’d be alone with Megatron for a whole mission.

How long would it be, again? An entire deca-cycle?

Primus. This was bad. This was really, truly bad.

(:)

It was a long drive back to the farm house. Realistically, it had taken precisely fifteen kliks to get back, the exact amount of time it had taken to drive up. It just hadn’t seemed fast enough, with the desperate need to put as much distance between the Autobot H.Q. and himself.

Bumblebee found the Terrans all playing in the front lawn. It was easier to stay in the open now that G.H.O.S.T. was gone, although admittedly Bumblebee should’ve implemented safety into their processors earlier on. It was fine now, though. It wasn’t like any bots were a secret anymore.

“Okay, kids, listen up!” Bumblebee summoned, trying to stomp down his remaining anxiety as he circled his servos, summoning them all close to him.

The Terrans came running, tumbling over to his side, and rolled into obedient sitting positions. Bumblebee’s spark warmed. He loved them so much and how hard they tried.

“I’m going to be heading out on a mission soon. I’ll be gone for about a week and a half.”

They all stared at him, optics wide and frightened. Right. The last two times he had to go out on his own for a while, it hadn’t ended particularly well. He hadn’t done much to inspire their confidence in him.

“But!” Bumblebee quickly pointed at the sky, puffing himself up with all the authority he could manage. “I’ll have a partner for it! Low risk and everything.” Primus, he tried to believe it. He tried with every fiber of himself to believe it. “And this is important. If any of you sneak along, you’re grounded for a month, got it?”

He left out the part where it was too high priority to double back if one came with them. That was just an incentive for them to come even more, if nothing else. He’d make sure whatever punishment they did get was swift, though.

“Aw, no fair!” Hashtag pouted, tugging her knees to her chest. Bumblebee felt a prickling of sympathy for her. The purple bot, after her experience with Mandroid, was more firmly on the side of “tag teams” than anyone else, after all. “What even is the mission anyway?”

“Sorry, Terrans, that’s need-to-know only. And as far as I know, only three of us are in that bracket. Maybe four.”

“I suppose it's better than just disappearing.” Nightshade said, aiming for positivity but instead coming out bitter.

“What about training?” Twitch asked, optics not quite focusing on anything, staring past Bumblebee. “Will we be getting a substitute?”

“Don’t be Arcee, don’t be Arcee, don’t be Arcee–!” Thrash chanted.

“Well, we haven’t exactly discussed it.” Bumblebee reassured. “One might come, but I doubt it. It’s more than likely that you’ll get a nice vacation from bossy bots.” He tapped Jawbreaker’s nose, and the youngest Terran grinned at him brightly. Sometimes, it was hard to realize they were only a couple orbital cycles old. Other times, it was so tragically easy.

Bumblebee sobered. “Or, maybe your Mom will be handling training in the meantime.”

“Oooh, Mom!” Twitch brightened. “Do you think she’ll teach us how to use a rifle? Pew, pew!”

“Prooobably not.” Bumblebee laughed, “But if she does, let me know how it goes!” He resisted from joking that they could use him as target practice. He didn’t think they’d find that as funny as he did.

Someone should teach them about self-deprecating jokes, but it wouldn’t be him. He didn’t think Dot would approve.

“Who’s your partner going to be?” Hashtag asked, all business and far too serious.

Bumblebee blinked in surprise. “I’m pretty sure that’s need to know, too, H.T.”

“Oh, please. No, it’s not. I bet I can log into G.H.O.S.T. headquarters and find out who you’re going with easily. I mean, anyone who isn’t there is probably with you, right?”

“Oh, please,” Twitch stretched her arms over her helm. “I know exactly who Bumblebee is going with. Didn’t even need to play detective! Because, come on, Mom doesn’t trust any Autobots near us except for one, and definitely no Decepticons! So if nobody’s going to be our substitute… Then that means he’s with you!”

“Oh, yeah, that’s true!” Thrash nodded exuberantly. “You’re going on a field trip with Megatron?!”

Oh, Twitch. Oh, Thrash.

Bumblebee guessed they were right. It would be easy to figure out who he was going with if they just knew who was at the Autobot base and who wasn’t. The Decepticons would likely pick up on it, too, and Starscream would be livid he wasn’t included in a discussion for an apparently high-risk mission.

Bumblebee’s smile felt tight on his face. The gears locked awkwardly as he nodded at them, panic bubbling up in his chassis once again. Primus, something was wrong with him. “Yeah, yeah, you got me. Megs and I are heading on a field trip. But you’re not getting any more out of me! So don’t even try.”

“Oh, is this a lesson in investigation and interrogation?!” Twitch asked.

“I&I…” Nightshade whispered in fascination, servos clasped before their face. 

“No.” Bumblebee scowled. “Definitely not. Remember, you can’t do stuff like that against me, because I know all your tips and tricks, because I’m the one who taught you everything. I know how to cover my tracks!”

“Well then, how are we going to practice this stuff?” Jawbreaker asked in despair.

Bumblebee groaned, dragging his servos down his face. “Guys, that’s war time stuff, too! I’m not supposed to be prioritizing that right now! You’re… You’re supposed to get a fuller spectrum of training,” dumb it down, Bumblebee, dumb it down, “So no, I’m not teaching you how to interrogate anyone!”

“Not like we need it,” Thrash said, usually the most outspoken about how much he hated being sucked into a war and learning war things, inspecting his digits as if they were fingernails. Actually, Bumblebee could see tiny little smiley face stickers and stars decorating them. It appeared his human sister had gotten her hands on him. “Since we’re already just so awesome.”

“Hey, I’ll never argue against you being awesome,” Bumblebee told him, because he really never would. These kids had ten times the amount of competence than Bumblebee did at their age.

In fact, back then, it was all he could do to hold Breakdown’s servo while the elder led them as far away from the war as he could. He could barely remember back then, enough memories taking priority that all he could really remember was how scared he was.

He knew the world was not supposed to be like that. But he knew his brother was keeping him safe from the raging war. Technically, they were on the other side of the planet from the major wars. And yet they had still been far too close.

“But I’d rather, now that G.H.O.S.T.’s gone, that you focus on actually being kids. I’ll talk to Optimus and Dot and make sure you actually get some fun time, okay? You deserve it.”

Hashtag hid a shy smile behind her knees. Bumblebee wondered when she began to think she had to hide it.

“Thank you, Bumblebee!” Nightshade said gratefully. “I will take our newfound break with gratitude! I have so many things I want to work on that I haven’t had the chance to!”

Bumblebee rolled his optics. He knew that was a bold faced lie from the middle child. An attempt to get out of more work, or to simply falsify their gratitude. Either way was fine, he supposed. As long as it made them happy. “Glad to help, Nightshade.”

The younger beamed up at him, delighted.

“When are you leaving?” Twitch asked, curious.

“Day after tomorrow, early in the morning.” Bumblebee told them. “If any of you are awake in the morning, I take everything back and you’re stuck with extra homework. Got it? I’d rather you sleep well than try to say goodbye before I go.”

Twitch and Jawbreaker lowered their helms and muttered out some kind of promise that Bumblebee half believed.

Sometimes, he was worried they knew he was no bite and all bark. Other times, he even impressed himself in how well he was able to keep it hidden.

However, he was someone assured that the kids would be on their best behavior while he was gone. They would at least fake it, if not to risk wrath from the rest of their siblings.

“Well,” Bumblebee said kindly. “What do you say we do something fun tomorrow? No G.H.O.S.T. business. Just something nice and easy.”

He tried to think of something kids liked to do for fun. Seeing as how the Terrans couldn’t eat ice cream, he had nothing.

Regardless, they brightened and started whispering excitedly.

Well. Hopefully they had ideas. Because honestly, it would be for Bumblebee’s sake as well as theirs. Anything to take his mind off his upcoming mission with Megatron.

And just like that, any feelings of peace and calm disappeared in an instant.

Chapter Text

Bumblebee woke up less than two solar cycles later with the fear stamped down as small as it would get. It’d get bigger, he knew, but at the moment, he relaxed in the peace of the morning. He rolled, slowly, off his berth, barely getting his pedes underneath him before fully landing onto the ground.

Bumblebee reached out for a cube of energon without getting up out of a crouch, throwing it back in one gulp after he grabbed it. His energon levels went from 64% to 71%. He’d make sure to refuel better at the Autobot base. They had more than he did, after all. 

Bumblebee grabbed the supplies he had gathered the evening before into his subspace; one polish rag, an assortment of energon cubes, a few data chips, a first aid kit, and a couple machinery tune-up kits. Who knew what state the computers would be in, after all.

He might have to exercise the skills Wheeljack used to teach him when he was Twitch and Thrash’s size. One thing about being raised by a cluster of Autobots is he never ran out of tricks he had picked up from them. Sometimes, he wished the Terrans would have that too. One day, perhaps they would.

The scout made his way out of the base as silently as he could, not wanting to wake the kids up this early. Robby and Mo had school in the morning, and the Terrans were almost impossible to get to recharge. It had taken the twins collapsing in training half a dozen times before they admitted they needed sleep.

The human kids had been regretful, and Alex had sighed and shook his head, and Dot hadn’t stopped giving Bumblebee the stink eye for half a deca-cycle. Like it was his fault.

Okay, maybe it was kind of his fault. But that was besides the point!

Would they remember to go to bed on time? Bumblebee had double checked over and over with Alex and Dot that they had the kids covered while Bumblebee was gone, and he had to trust that. He couldn’t let himself get cold feet the day of.

Once, he got to see Mirage back out of a scouting mission at the last moment, and witnessed Jazz blow a gasket all the while still being friendly and understanding. It had been the weirdest thing Bumblebee had ever seen. Mirage was at least five times Bumblebee’s age, with twice the bravado, and he had dropped the ball. Bumblebee had taken the lesson to spark; do not do that to the commanding officers.

It was early in the morning, the sun barely starting to peak over the mountains, when Bumblebee emerged from the dugout. Still, Dot and Alex were awake, and Dot raised her mug in greeting upon spotting him. Alex waved enthusiastically, and whisper-yelled “Good luck on your big mission, Bumblebee!”

“Thanks, Maltos!” Bumblebee stage-whispered back, amused. He hesitated for a moment longer, making a silent promise not to mess this up. He wouldn’t let Dot down by not getting along with Megatron. He wouldn’t.

Then he transformed and drove off, wheels slowly rotating over the dirt road as he quietly made his way out. Once he got to the asphalt, he fired his engines properly, letting the boost of energy carry him away and towards the G.H.O.S.T. base.

Most of the birds weren’t even singing yet. He thought he heard a rooster call, but that was about it as he hurried along.

Keep calm, Bumblebee. He reminded himself urgently. This is just a standard scouting mission with one of the big bosses. One you barely hang out with. You just need to keep your cool, and you’ll be fine. Because you do not have issues. Got it?

His processor definitely did not get it. It was still waiting for danger to catalog. Frag.

Bumblebee sent his systems through a nice little reboot, like that would fix anything, and started a list of all the dents and abrasions he had collected. Give his processor something to do other than prepare itself for an attack that was definitely not going to come.

Megatron was good. Bumblebee could remember that. Megatron was good. He was doing everything he could to help, no matter how much he clearly didn’t want to. Giving Bumblebee space, staying at a respectful distance…

How could anyone not love Megatron?

The answer was trauma. Completely unfounded, forgivable trauma, at that. Something he had to get over. For the good of the team, for the good of the Autobot-Decepticon alliance. If they found nothing in their searches, but his fear of Megatron resparked the war…

He’d never forgive himself. Optimus wouldn’t either, and Thrash certainly would not.

In another life, perhaps his fear over this whole situation would feel… better. More justified. Wouldn’t that make sense? Wouldn’t that just…

Bumblebee sighed to himself, shaking off the thought as he neared the former G.H.O.S.T. base. There wasn’t time to contemplate and drive himself mad. The next deca-cycle would provide plenty of time for that.

He skirted through the camouflaged doorway, making sure his boosters were turned off so as to not make any noise. The Decepticons were supposed to be still sleeping. Maybe one would be on camera watch, but Optimus was smart.

He’d wait until it was one of the ones who didn’t give a frag about whatever the Autobots were discussing before orchestrating their mission. Like Breakdown, maybe, or an insecticon.

Bumblebee rolled carefully into the Autobot division of the base, transforming into root mode. Nobody was in the room except for Skywarp, who he supposed was another prime example of one of the uncaring Decepticons.

“Good morning, Skywarp!” He greeted with as much cheerfulness as he could muster.

“Morning, bug.” Skywarp grumbled.

Bumblebee narrowed his optics at the cube of high grade next to her. That was definitely not allowed. She couldn’t pay as much attention as the job required while her processor was muddled.

It was part of their deal with Starscream, that a Decepticon would be put on monitor duty primarily to avoid Autobots sneaking around behind their backs. Not that it stopped them from finding workarounds. Starscream’s inherent distrust, in turn, made them suspicious.

But, Bumblebee couldn’t be too mad at Skywarp’s intoxication. It made it even easier to sneak around behind her back, really.

“Do you know where Optimus is?” Bumblebee asked, curious.

He was half expecting her to report that he was still in his office, but instead she gestured boredly at a ground-floor door.

“In the mess hall, getting a refuel. Megatron is making him, I think.” She chuckled quietly, resting her chin against her cheek. “Honestly, if it takes this much to get the great leader of the Autobots so long to take care of himself, I’m surprised we didn’t beat you sooner!”

“Thanks, Sky. I appreciate it.”

“Hey, only Thundercracker could call me “Sky”!” Skywarp challenged, pivoting around to point a furious digit at his chassis. “And you don’t qualify!”

“Yup.” He held up his servos passively. “I’ve got you. No calling you that, my bad.”

She scoffed, whipping back around to stare at the monitors. Bumblebee bet that by the time he came back, she’d be dozing. Someone would get her in trouble for it, he was certain. But that wasn’t his problem at the moment.

Bumblebee started on his way, traveling towards the mess hall.

It was only a short trip, but to humans it probably would be a headache. That would explain why he had listened to the human G.H.O.S.T. agents complain about having to walk across the base endlessly while they were reworking the whole thing. Removing the human entrances made it harder for them, he supposed.

Ah, the price of human diplomacy.

Bumblebee slid open the door to the mess hall, unsurprised to only find Optimus and Megatron in place this early in the solar-cycle. Both looked up, but while Optimus’ optics brightened at the sight of him, Megatron did nothing but glare daggers. Yay.

“Bumblebee!” Optimus greeted cheerfully, standing up to clap his shoulder affectionately. “Thank you for being so punctual. This is a mission of utmost importance, and I did not want it to be delayed.”

“Optimus, come on,” Bumblebee snorted, keeping his optics glued on Optimus to keep the panic in his chassis at bay. As long as he didn’t look at Megatron, or he pretended like the former warlord was behind bars and it was just him and Optimus talking, he could act like everything was normal. “You know me. I’m not going to endanger the mission like that.”

“Ha,” Megatron scoffed under his breath.

Optimus didn’t seem to even recognize the noise, or he simply had given up on caring. Both seemed possible. “Well,” his Prime continued, keeping his servo firmly on Bumblebee’s shoulder to begin guiding him towards the table. “Let us get you refueled before we send you along.”

Optimus didn’t notice the tension Bumblebee developed, stiffly sliding into the seat across from Megatron. Instead, the Prime’s attention was stolen away as he turned away to grab a cube from their stock.

Megatron’s red optics bore into Bumblebee. There was an accusation there that Bumblebee did not dare address. In fact, the provided energon cube was suddenly the most interesting thing Bumblebee had ever seen.

“Do any of you have any last minute questions?” Optimus asked kindly, clapping his servos together. “We’ve searched. There’s no hidden cameras or recorders in this room.”

Bumblebee wasn’t sure how much he trusted that, but far be it from him to show disrespect or doubt over his Prime’s decrees.

“Yes,” Megatron said, optic ridge rising. “Optimus, are you sure Bumblebee and I are the best team for this? He and I have never been alone before.”

Bumblebee winced at the inflection. Other than a couple orbital-cycles ago, at the farmhouse – and they weren’t entirely alone there, either – the mech wasn’t entirely wrong. Even when Bumblebee lost his voice there had been other Decepticons there, watching with hauntingly hungry optics.

He doubted it, but maybe they had been goading Megatron on. He couldn’t exactly remember and it would, theoretically, make it easier to forgive the warframe. It was just… difficult. Everything was difficult.

He was brought back to reality by the sigh Optimus gave behind him. Once again, his Prime’s servo found its way to his shoulder, pressing down on him, just a touch comforting when up against Megatron’s fierce glare.

“Megatron, I do not know how good of a team you will be,” Optimus said with utmost authority. “But right now, I am judging individuals instead. You were the leader of the Decepticons. You know what they’re like. You know their systems better than just about anyone.”

Megatron scoffed, crossing his arms. He, of course, knew the reason he himself had been chosen. He knew that he was the only Decepticon they had, that he was their best option for a lot of things.

Equally, Bumblebee was perfectly aware of the fact that Megatron was trying to help in his own, messy way. On one servo, he was relieved and somewhat grateful that someone was noticing. On the other, he didn’t want that courtesy. He wanted to prove that he was strong and resourceful, that he could handle whatever situation that came. It said something about Megatron’s disrespect, he thought, that the warlord saw it fitting to argue with Optimus in front of his soldiers.

“As for Bumblebee,” Optimus leaned down over Bumblebee’s shoulder, squeezing him gently and tight, cheeks pressed against one another. Bumblebee could practically feel his former mentor’s pride cascading off of him. “He’s been sneaking around your bases since he was four vorns old. You have never noticed him. If anyone can get information from a Decepticon base, it’s him.”

Bumblebee thought about the battlefield of Tyger Pax. How he had been held down while he had been brutalized and assaulted, how Megatron and his Decepticons demanded he talk as they tore him apart. It had been the one and only time he had ever been caught, and he hadn’t even been a fully-fledged scout yet.

They had mocked him for his endurance as they tore him apart. Told him that being strong just meant that his suffering would be dragged out. Bolts scratched out, gears snapped in half, voice box laying in ruins–

If nothing else, Bumblebee had learned the hard way to never be discovered. He knew what it would mean. He knew how much worse it would get if they caught him again.

So, maybe, in some messed up, disconnected way, Tyger Pax was a blessing. But that mindset still didn’t help at all. It just made his spark ache and sting, and Bumblebee once again found his optics glued to the table.

“I know of his capabilities,” Megatron scoffed. “I’m simply debating how good of an idea it was for you to pair us together.”

“You two have both worked with far poorer partners.” Optimus said, his voice somehow friendly and authoritative all at once. It was almost nostalgic, in a way, and Bumblebee would appreciate it a lot more if his Prime wasn’t using it to push them into a mission together. “I’m sure this will be no problem.”

“That’s what you think,” Megatron pressed. “But you’re wrong. The truth is that–”

Optimus groaned. Actually, physically, groaned. Like a little kid.

Bumblebee could’ve laughed from the absurdity of it, but oh boy, his servos were interesting to stare at.

“You do not have to be so negative, Megatron.” Optimus huffed, shaking his helm. “You are my friend, and I trust you to actually try collaborating with someone new.”

“You think that this is my pride?!” Megatron gasped in offense that had to be fake. Didn’t he know his own record? But it wasn’t fake, because Bumblebee knew what Megatron was like. He knew. “This isn’t me at all, Prime! It’s–”

Wow. No. No.

Proving Bumblebee wrong immediately, he didn’t know the mech was a tattletail.

“–well,” Bumblebee said mildly, focusing so hard on his digits that he could almost pretend like he wasn’t purposefully interrupting Megatron. “It sounds to me like we’re all solid. Don’t worry about us, Optimus. We’ll figure it out.”

The suspicious look Optimus gave Megatron was unwarranted. It would’ve been much better suited for Bumblebee. Bumblebee, however, didn’t dare utter a word about it either way. Instead, he sucked down the rest of his energon in a single go.

“Very good,” Optimus relented, taking a few steps back. “Well, you’ve both been briefed, and–”

“Wait,” Bumblebee coughed, awkwardly, but pushed himself off the chair anyway. “Did we– Why’s it taking a deca-cycle, exactly? It’s only a day and a half drive away. Or, you know– A solar-cycle and a half. That leaves us seven solar-cycles, and I don’t… really… get why?”

“Ah,” Optimus brightened. “Glad you asked. It was an approximate guess! The Decepticon base has been abandoned, and old types of Cybertronian security wasn’t built to detect small organics and it’s entirely possible Soundwave never got around to updating it. Humans could’ve gotten in, or rats, and messed with the systems.”

“Rats,” Megatron said grumpily to himself, digits tapping against the table angrily. “The scum of the earth.”

Ha. First thing he’s said that’s not controversial.  

“Judging by how long general repairs take, not to mention actually hacking into systems, it could take you quite a few extra solar-cycles to get it squared away.” Optimus smiled at them. “I wanted to allow you adequate time to get the jobs you needed to get done. We only have one shot at this.”

“We won’t let you down.” Bumblebee promised.

With Megatron rising to stand by his side, Bumblebee felt the panic grab him like a vice all over again. He just hoped his promise turned out true.

(:)

Bumblebee was used to driving being either peaceful or full of uncontrollable emotions, raging through him on an ugly feedback loop as he drove away from his family. Back when he first was sent into isolation, and again after he lost the Terrans, the latter had been common.

Today, though, for the first time, Bumblebee found himself unable to focus on either the road ahead of him, or the people he was leaving behind. Instead, his attention was firmly drawn to the whirr or rotors and props, and the rumbling of the engine above him.

They traveled in verbal silence with Megatron high above to avoid attention. Yet every wheel rotation of the way, Bumblebee was acutely reminded of just who was with him. Funny, when Megatron never used to be a helicopter back on Cybertron. One wouldn’t think he would be so scared, but here he was.

Every piece of him was dying to activate his energon boosters and jolt ahead of Megatron, but that wasn’t very responsible of him. Worse, it might seem carefree and lenient. Bumblebee couldn’t do that.

A couple groons passed on the road, Bumblebee wishing he could break every speed limit in the world if only to get to the base sooner every nano-klik of the way. Being here ached. Megatron might be avoiding him, flying high above to avoid a confrontation, but it was still hard to know Bumblebee was so close to him, alone.

Megatron’s distance was honestly thoughtful of him, but that just made Bumblebee bitter. Why did he have to be nice about this? He had been a genocidal maniac once upon a time. Fifteen years ago. Why couldn’t he go back to that?

And then, suddenly, they weren’t alone anymore. In his rearview mirror, Bumblebee spotted a glimmer of silver, light reflecting off of neatly polished plating.

Bumblebee slammed on his breaks, twisting his wheels.He circled into a donut, whirling around to face the approaching vehicle.

Silver in of itself wasn’t that big of a shock. Obviously, most cars were that generic colour. But Bumblebee would recognize this particular sheen anywhere, and it was with growing frustration that he faced Thrash.

The Terran screeched to his own halt, and very carefully did not move. As if Bumblebee thought he was just some random moped, instead of staring at his very obviously empty seat. This was really revealing the holes in their training. He’d have to fix that.

“Thrash.” Bumblebee scoffed, transforming out of alt mode to tower over the Terran, pressing his servos into his hips. “What do you think you’re doing here?!”

Thrash backed up a wheel rotation. “Heyyy, Bumblebee… I can explain!”

Explain what?! That you’re directly disobeying, that I know you are, that there’s no way you can twist this that results in you escaping scott-free, and– “Oh, can you?” Bumblebee huffed. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re tailing a mission I explicitly told you was high clearance only!”

“Okay,” Thrash transformed back to root mode. He held up his pointer digits, a guilty smile on his face. “I hear you, and it’s… incredibly spot on, but! I swear I have an explanation!”

“It better be a good one.” Bumblebee accused. “Because it’s not just me you have to answer to, it’s your parents, and Twitch! You know she doesn’t like you going out of her si–” Bumblebee’s optics shut with a groan. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Huh?” Thrash said with faux innocence. “What’s happening?”

They were standing in the middle of the street, Bumblebee realized. In full sight of anybody who came along, even if it was supposed to be an unpopular backroad.

It was lucky that they were flanked by trees on either side. Bumblebee reached down, seized Thrash’s elbow, and heaved him into the undergrowth.

He walked only far enough to keep them both hidden from passing cars, and then looked around them. “Twitch, come out. I know you’re here.”

The silence was very loud.

“Holy Primus, Twitch,” Bumblebee scoffed, pinching his olfactory sensor. “Just come out. I don’t know how you can possibly get more in trouble than you already are, so you might as well bite the bullet.”

There was another beat, and then Twitch slowly rounded from around a tree, still in drone form. “Heyyy, Bumblebee…” She weakly greeted, in the exact same tone as her twin.

Yeah. Bumblebee was going to kill them.

“What were you two thinking?” Bumblebee demanded as Twitch slowly drifted down to join her brother. Despite himself, it was the furthest apart he had seen them since Mandroid, and the relief swept in fast. They were healing. Just being ridiculously disobedient in the process. “I told you both to stay back!”

A few orbital cycles ago, they might have started crying. Instead, they just glanced at each other, and gave him the biggest and most smug grins ever.

“We figured you’d need backup!” Twitch waved dismissively. “No matter what this super-secret mission is, we can help! If it’s fighting? I’ve got my blades and my plasma cannon–”

“–blaster, please just call it a blaster–”

“–and Thrash has got his shield! If it’s a spying mission, we just tailed you for five hours without you catching us! And if it’s anything else, we can learn how to help!”

“Or be there as moral support,” Thrash nodded. “Mo says that’s very important.”

“Robby, too!”

“Okay,” Bumblebee groaned. “I don’t know why you listen to your siblings more than you listen to me, your literal teacher, but you’ve got to go home!”

“But we’re here now! And we’re so tired!” Thrash pouted, kicking out one pede to gesture helplessly at it. “You wouldn’t send us all the way home!”

“It’s even longer to where we’re going! It’s another twenty hour drive at least!” Bumblebee scolded. “We can’t afford to slow down for you two! I love you guys, but we’re kind of on a time crunch, and–”

From up above, the sound of Megatron’s turbines got closer. Bumblebee had almost forgotten the former warlord was around. He must’ve noticed Bumblebee wasn’t following underneath him anymore and doubled back.

Bumblebee squeezed his optics shut, frustration and fear clashing in a messy tango within him. He almost pushed his way in front of the kids, to protect them, before reminding himself, harshly, that Megatron was their family. Their mom’s best friend.

Logically, they were probably safer with Megatron then they’d ever be with him, but Bumblebee’s instincts just weren’t picking up the memo. Suddenly, all he wanted to do was to yell at them to run. He held his glossa.

“I knew it,” Twitch enthused. “You were with Megatron!”

“We already established that!” Bumblebee hissed, crossing his arms. “That can not be what you came out here to figure out– No, no. You are going home!”

Screw how “high priority” the mission was. Bumblebee couldn’t spend this entire time trying to protect them and also battle off his crippling fear. Not that there was any need to protect them with Megatron here, but he just… He couldn't do this.

“What?” Thrash pouted. “Why?”

“Do we get grounded before or after you get home?” Twitch asked, like her puppy dog eyes would get Bumblebee to relent.

They didn’t. “As soon as you get home, you’re grounded forever. I can’t believe you would follow me out here, after I explicitly said not to!” Bumblebee could completely believe it, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t disappointed.

They were good kids. If they were acting up like this, that meant they were making the active decision to, and it wasn’t just a lapse in judgement. Maybe if they knew that he was scared of Megatron, and were trying to form a support group, he could understand it. But even then, what would they really be able to do about the warlord?

One wrong move, and Megatron could squash them like the insects they were.

They didn’t know that. And Bumblebee couldn’t tell them.

Megatron was good. He was good.

“Terrans,” Megatron greeted, footsteps practically rocking the ground with how heavy they were as he approached. “How are you doing?”

“Great!” Twitch said, breaking past Bumblebee to launch herself at Megatron’s neck and tangle him up in her hug. Bumblebee tried to grab her, but his digits fell just a little too short to actually snag her. “How are you doing, Megatron?”

“Very well,” his servo hugged her back, optics slowly searching between Bumblebee and Thrash. “I am surprised to see you here. Have you been following us?”

“You bet we have!” Thrash snapped out a pair of finger guns, beaming at him.

“Hmm. And Optimus’ top scout didn’t notice?”

“Hey!” Twitch hovered back enough to punch his arm. Her smile didn’t leave, though. “It’s not his fault he’s a great teacher!”

Megatron huffed out a laugh that wasn’t necessarily cruel, but it still felt mocking. Seven hundred years ago, he had made that same noise when Bumblebee had stubbornly refused to talk. It felt mean, even if it wasn’t anymore.

Bumblebee reached out to grab both Thrash and Twitch, pulling them back to him. He did the hardest thing he had ever done and turned his back fully to Megatron. This way, hopefully it wouldn’t be obvious that he was putting himself between them and Megatron.

Protection. Wasn’t that what Optimuss summoned him to do?

“Twitch, Thrash, this isn’t the time to argue.” Bumblebee hissed, holding their shoulders if only to ignore the burning optics peering into the back of his helm. “You two are going home now. I don’t… I can’t deal with this right now!”

“Is this a bad time to mention that we don’t know the way back?” Thrash asked, tapping his digits together.

Bumblebee’s processor broke. “What.”

Twitch’s optics flickered to her brother, and her smile got a tad bit more strained. Primus, they were telling the truth. Bumblebee was going to punch something.

“We talked about trail markers,” Bumblebee said desperately. “You know how to mark where you’re going! You know this, why– Why are you being difficult?!”

“Bumblebee, listen,” Thrash put his servo on Bumblebee’s shoulder in return, ignoring the way his teacher bristled. “We have two very good reasons!”

“Two very good reasons, yes,” Twitch nodded, clearly oblivious to those very good reasons. Oh, they did not think this through at all.

“First of all, you guys were going too fast! If we paused to make trail markers, we would’ve lost you!” Thrash told him, which brought up the very obvious issue of “why would they follow Bumblebee at all”, but Thrash ignored that and forged on. “Also, if this mission is as secretive as you want, trail markers wouldn’t only lead us home, but lead people to you! We can’t do that!”

“Oh my Primus, you two are going to be in so much trouble.” Bumblebee hissed. They couldn’t turn around, but he couldn’t keep going with them here. They were at a stalemate. If he gave them directions, they wouldn’t listen. Scrap, even if he had sent them home without issue, there was no guarantee they’d obey.

Kudos to them, they had locked him in a lose-lose situation. And he was losing his mind.

“Bumblebee, let them stay.” Megatron instructed, the words like a plasma blade to Bumblebee’s back. “If they can’t go back, then they’ll come with us. Besides, they might prove useful.”

For just a klik, Bumblebee forgot who was behind him. “We can’t! This isn’t the type of mission they should be a part of! It could be dangerous, and I’m not willing to drag them into another petty deba–” He turned around, and instantly his intake clicked shut.

Bumblebee stared down at his servos, forming them into tight balls.

The silence began to stretch.

“They will be fine.” Megatron said shortly. “They’ll be with us.”

Bumblebee couldn’t argue. He had so much to say, but… He couldn’t do anything more than stiffly nod.

Megatron huffed out a near-silent vent. “This mission, after all, is too important to delay.”

Ugh. Bumblebee knew that. He knew that. Yet he was still desperate to get the Terrans to go home, to obey him, to keep them away from Megatron. However, by announcing it in front of them, Megatron had left Bumblebee with his servos cuffed.

“Fine,” Bumblebee hissed bitterly, his intake feeling oddly dry. It was hard to pull the word out, rubbing his servos over his knees to try to get some kind of feeling with how numb he could find himself becoming. “Fine, but you’re telling Dot.”

Because if it fell to Bumblebee, then he’d definitely lose that friendship with her. How could he put her children in danger like that, bringing them into a Decepticon ship? If the opposite party found out the Terrans were there, then they would drag the Terrans into the resulting battle, and…

The Terrans needed to stay far away from war. They often made the decision to involve themselves, but that was, quite frankly, the last thing Bumblebee ever wanted.

Keep them away, keep them safe. Why did the world want to harm them?

Why was Bumblebee always so bad at his job?

“If that is my duty,” Megatron scoffed, pointing his olfactory sensor into the air with a sharp look. “Then I shall do so. I’ll even call her while we’re enroute, to avoid her getting worried.”

Bumblebee almost said that she was probably already worried, but he didn’t have any missed calls in his database. So, probably not. What was she doing if not looking after her children–? No, no.

Dot didn’t need to be as overbearing as Bumblebee was. She didn’t have to look after their every movement. She knew her children best, after all, and knew what they could or couldn’t handle. But, Primus, she was going to be so mad when she learned Bumblebee couldn’t control them running away.

“Can we ride in you?” Twitch asked, ducking past Bumblebee again to surge for Megatron, servos clasped in excitement.

Megatron looked down at her with affection, a small smile working its way to his dermas.

Bumblebee felt sick.

“Yes,” Megatron said readily. “You’re both small enough that you can fit. I imagine you’re tired from all your driving?”

“Yeah! You guys move fast! We’re not used to hoofing it!” Thrash agreed, walking past Bumblebee, much slower than his sister. Bumblebee had to fight to not grab him and yank him into his arms.

“And you followed us for five groons,” Megatron agreed, leaning down, servos on his knees as he gazed at them. “That is most impressive. I didn’t see you either, and I have a fine aerial view.”

“Yeah, well, Bumblebee always said to always stay a distance back from your target so that they can’t see you coming!” Thrash snapped his fingers. “And it helps if they’re bright colours, because then you can find them again even if they get a little slippery.”

“Also triangulation to figure out how far away you were, so if you made a turn, we could make the same one later!” Twitch beamed. “And I stayed in the trees so that he couldn’t see me!”

“I might have slipped up just a little by getting too close to Bumblebee…”

“And I told him he was, too! Over and over– “Look out, Thrash, Bumblebee’s going to catch you”!”

“Oh, shut up, Twitch!”

“You shut up, Thrash! I was right and you know it!”

“Ugh, you’re always right!”

“I’m glad you admit it– Hey! Stop shoving me!”

“You stop–!”

“If you both continue to bicker, I’ll drop you out of me. And then you’ll certainly be lost.” Megatron threatened, and Bumblebee tried not to wince at how cold his tone got. He was just being authoritative. Playful, even.

Anyone with two receptors could be able to tell that he would never actually do that to them. Even if he wasn’t good, Megatron respected their mother too much to put them in direct jeopardy like that.

The Terrans saluted, immediately falling in line with a jovial laugh. “Yes sir, Megatron, sir!”

“Oh, how formal.” Megatron teased, turning his backs to them if only to transform. He lowered the ramp behind him, a clear indication for them to board. His propellers began to whirl as they scampered in, the doors closing firmly behind them.

Bumblebee’s spark was in his pipes, desperate to crawl out and go right along with them. He wanted to keep them close, not leave them alone with Megatron. In the sky, he could not reach them. He wasn’t as good of a shot as Optimus was; the chances of him hitting a moving target that high up were slim to none.

Megatron spared a klik to turn towards Bumblebee, hovering in midair for a moment. “I’ll keep them safe, little scout. Trust me.”

Bumblebee was going to have to. He was worth trusting.

But, Primus below, it was so difficult.

Chapter Text

Megatron comm-ed Bumblebee ever so briefly to let him know he was coming in for a landing in a nearby field about halfway into the remaining drive. The stars had been out for a while, twinkling quietly in the sky.

Bumblebee had hoped that the Terrans were already fast asleep, but if Megatron wanted to land, it was doubtful. Maybe they had gotten motion-sickness, or cramped. Was there truly enough room in Megatron’s cargo hold for them both?

What if Megatron had killed them and was planning to kill Bumblebee too?

Stupid, stupid, stupid. He had to stop being so paranoid.

Bumblebee found a dirt path through the trees and rolled through it, aiming for the coordinates Megatron had dropped him, cutting through trees, underbrush, and foliage. Bramble rubbed against his side, scratching some of his paint, but he ignored it. He was fine. It was fine.

The Terrans were more important.

Bumblebee rolled into the field at the exact same time Megatron landed, ramp already folding down before his landing gear had fully touched down. Bumblebee had heard it was easier for fliers to roll out of alt mode that way.

He pressed his servo against a tree trunk as the Terrans fluttered out of Megatron. Twitch burst into the air, stretching her arms and legs out, barking out a delighted laugh. Thrash rocked on his heel struts, bending halfway over and leaning into a side lunge, switching from side to side.

“Whoohoo!” Twitch giggled, twirling around in a circle in midair. She twisted in and out of drone mode, stretching out all of her seams and joints as she went. She soared far into the sky until Bumblebee could barely see a pixel of red, and then she was cascading back down. Her pedes neatly outstretched before her, letting her land like an olympic gymnast, servos lifting to the air. “It is good to be alive!”

“And free,” Thrash complained with a laugh, leaning backwards to crash into the field. He disappeared out of view for a moment, and even though Megatron was standing a distance back from them, Bumblebee felt a squeeze of fear when he could no longer see him.

Thrash sat fully back up a moment later, grabbing a hold of the grass around him and holding it in front of his face. “Hey! Why’s the grass yellow instead of green? Is it dying or something?”

Bumblebee’s grip tightened on the trunk. They probably weren’t asking him. Megatron was on their good side at the moment, because he had given them the go-ahead to come along, even though they were disobeying. Neither of them had even looked at him yet.

Megatron shifted awkwardly. “I am… not sure. I suppose I’ve never questioned it beyond assuming that it’s corroded.” He leaned down, taking a few strands of grass into his servos, digits smoothing down over them. “But organic matter doesn’t rust like we do.”

Twitch whirled around, catching Bumblebee’s optic from across the field. “Bumblebee!” She waved. “Hi! Did you hear? Do you know why the grass changes colour?”

Love and relief swept through Bumblebee. They weren’t angry at him for being a hardaft. They didn’t hate him. Oh boy, was that a thought?

“Well,” Bumblebee carefully advanced, keeping his pedesteps careful and sure. He kneeled beside the Terrans, running his servos over the tops of the blades of grass. “It’s mostly different types of grass. Even in the same country, different areas can have unique types of grass.”

He took a closer look, noting the texture. Underneath his digits, they felt a lot more coarse than they probably should’ve. “Not to mention they look pretty dry. Your Mom did a great job installing sprinklers on the farm and watering the yard so that it’d stay green.”

“Oh, wow! So, people are just… letting the planet die?” Twitch stared in obvious horror.

“What? No. Well, not exactly. Sometimes, it’s good to give the soil a break. Over-planting the same stuff in a field can steal nutrients, so letting the grass take over for a bit can be a healthy restart.” Bumblebee explained.

“That’s super sweet.” Thrash pulled his knees to his chest thoughtfully, leaning forward to fiddle with one of the bushes of grass.

“There’s a lot of reasons why it could look like this.” Bumblebee continued, reciting things he had learned from human databases or some of his human friends’ old explanations from way back in the day. “Or it might be owned by the state, and they don’t pay attention to random spots of land, or maybe the trees have roots that extend far enough that they steal water from the grass. We don’t know the field’s story.”

“Everytime I think I know all that Earth has to offer, I get proved wrong.” Megatron mused, fingers stroking the grass. His servos were so gentle with the non-sentient life when they had been so cruel with Bumblebee. Bumblebee couldn’t tell if it was jealousy or what that churned in his gut. “What a beautiful planet.”

“Yeah, really glad to have been born here.” Thrash decided, leaning backwards to flop right back down into the ground. This time, Bumblebee could still see him and did not panic. Much anyway. “Earth is absolutely fantastic.”

“Bumblebee,” Megatron summoned, and Bumblebee found himself flinching as he snapped up his helm to stare at the former warlord. “Remember when we Cybertronians thought all organic life was diseased?”

“What?” Thrash asked, lurching right back upright. “Why?”

Bumblebee stared at the ground, servos balling into fists on his knees. He hadn’t been alive during the age of Cybertronian exploration. He hadn’t actually been around for the whispers of paranoia and the headlines from scientists. He hadn’t known there was a problem with organic life until he had been heading to Earth and somebody told him to “not freak out”.

It turned out that everybody forgot to inform him on basic Cybertronian lore and propaganda that wasn’t directly related to the war. Amusing, ish, but clearly set him apart from his peers. From Megatron, too.

Do you even know how old I was when you stole my voice away from me? Bumblebee thought bitterly, but didn’t dare ask.

The Terrans loved Megatron. He wouldn’t take that away from them.

“Well, organics carry bacteria,” Megatron told the Terrans, curling a couple stems of grass around his digit, over and over. “As do all things, but organic life, like these plants, are harder to sanitize than processed material. There was a rumor that because of this, organics carried more bacteria.”

“One time, Robby and Mo were sick with a cold,” Twitch told Megatron, “But even though we spent a lot of time with them, we didn’t get sick! So we’re pretty sure we can’t really catch human illnesses. Wheeljack said so!”

“Wheeljack’s not authorized to make that–” Megatron cut himself off, shaking his helm. “Well. Cybertronians usually cannot catch human diseases, so I suppose that makes sense. You are Terrans, though, which makes you unique. That’s not the point. Bacteria can carry all kinds of problems. For example… They carry rust.”

“Rust is a lethal type of illness a lot of Cybertronians catch.” Bumblebee said, quietly. He didn’t look at them straight on, staring at the dirt and the roots and the grass beneath his knees. “I… I caught it once when I was around two hundred and fifteen.”

Twitch and Thrash’s optics practically bugged out of their face plates, twisting their helms around to stare at him.

“Huh?” Twitch squeaked. “How old are you now?!”

“Young. For a Cybertronian.” Bumblebee said shortly. “Oldest one lived to be around nine million, and he probably could’ve lived longer if he didn’t decide to go into the Allspark. That’s how most spark cycles go.”

“So you decide when you want to die?” Twitch prompted, shuffling so that her shoulder was pressing against Bumblebee’s.

Ha. If it were that simple, Bumblebee would’ve died after Tyger Pax a few thousand times over.

“As long as there isn’t war,” Megatron said softly. “Then Cybertronians could live until our star explodes. And even then, we can flee the planet. But because of the war… Many Cybertronians died before their time. Before they were ready. I will never shy away from admitting that many of those were my fault.”

Megatron was self-aware. That was a good thing. Or at least, it was supposed to be. Instead, all it did was make Bumblebee’s tanks curl in frustration.

“But in war, don’t you have to kill? To win? For self-defense?” Twitch asked, curiously.

“Sure,” Thrash lept in quickly, elbowing his sister. “But that doesn’t make it right! It’s still awful, isn’t it?”

Bumblebee had killed his fair share of Decepticons. He wasn’t fit to preach about morality, to tell them what they could do differently if they were in his situation.

Honestly, he hadn’t even really grieved over those he killed. He had wished he had been killed in their stead, honestly, especially after he lost his voice box.

Some fates, after all, were worse than death. He held to the belief that for a time, he had stumbled into one.

Bumblebee was careful not to lift his servo to his neck.

“Yes,” Megatron said, frowning down at them, either ignoring or not noticing the look in Bumblebee’s optics. “I regret everything I’ve done. All the pain I’ve brought. War is never worth that pain. I’m only lucky that Optimus forgave me.”

“He’s a good bot, isn’t he?” Twitch asked quietly.

Bumblebee’s helm snapped up. “He’s the best. He’s… He always tries hard, and that’s what’s important. He’s always focusing on a better future, and Optimus never lets anything distract him, even if he does make mistakes. It’s how you fix those mistakes that make up for–”

His gaze flickered to Megatron. Bumblebee cleared his pipes awkwardly, staring back down at his knees. “...everything.”

It wasn’t until Twitch’s optics widened and she started looking between Megatron and Bumblebee that the scout realized he made a mistake. Twitch was too smart for her own good, constantly sticking her olfactory sensor where it didn’t belong.

Sneaking away on missions, prying into Bumblebee’s business, using stupid deductive reasoning–

“We should get going,” Bumblebee finally decided, shoving himself up to his pedes. “You two all stretched out and refreshed?”

“We’re great,” Thrash gave him a thumbs up. “We’ll let Megs know if we need another break.”

“But we won’t,” Twitch told her brother, squeezing his shoulder. “I think we should probably go to sleep, right? It’s pretty late!”

A thought occurred to Bumblebee, and he frowned at them. “Please tell me you brought a supply of cave water.”

“Enough for two weeks!” Twitch told him proudly, folding open her compartment to reveal a couple bottles. “Just in case something goes wrong! We drank our… What did you call them? Rations? Well, we drank the whatever-they-weres earlier!”

“Yeah,” Hands on his hips, Thrash smirked at Bumblebee. “We’re more mature than you think!”

“And yet you still snuck along on a high-stakes mission despite being told not to, and you still haven’t given me a clear reason on why you did! Just that you’d be “useful”, and we all know that’s just an excuse.” Bumblebee hated to play the card, especially in the presence of another adult, and he hated saying anything at all if it was in front of Megatron, but… “What kind of example do you think you’re setting for your younger siblings?”

Shifty glances were exchanged.

Bumblebee clenched his jaw, half expecting them to admit that the triplets had also come along and had, somehow, been trailing them as well for the last ten groons.

Instead, Twitch and Thrash sighed as one, looking off in opposite directions.

“I know,” Twitch kicked at the ground. “It’s a bad one. But we had to come along! We had to help, Bumblebee!”

“Why.” Bumblebee deadpanned. “I don’t get it. Why.”

“Well,” Twitch said slowly. “Thrash might have died, but we saw how badly you looked after that fight. What everyone did to you, all because you were protecting us. Robby and Mo might have been able to heal Thrash, but they didn’t heal you!”

“Yeah,” Thrash agreed, servos balling into determined fists as he glared at Bumblebee. “And we’re not letting that happen to you on our watch again! Because you keep getting hurt, and it’s just not cool!”

“May Primus have mercy on your souls,” Bumblebee deadpanned, even as his spark ached at the sweetness of it all. They cared about him enough to be absolute idiots. That was probably not something to be encouraged, but it felt good. “You’re still grounded.”

“You know what, Bumblebee?” Twitch beamed, holding her brother’s servo. “I think I’m okay with that!”

Bumblebee was going to kill them both. Of course, with all the love in the world behind him as his witness. He was sure it was justified.

(:)

The final stretch to the Decepticon base had to be traversed by pede. At least on Bumblebee’s behalf; he was fairly certain that Megatron had circled around in the sky for the final half groon while he was waiting for Bumblebee.

He landed down as soon as Bumblebee started to get close, slipping between the trees to hover awkwardly beside Bumblebee, barely managing not to damage any on the way down. He opened up his back to shoo the Terrans out, and then transformed fully, thudding to the ground on heavy pedes.

Bumblebee took an automatic step back.

“Be careful,” Megatron said, keeping an optic on Bumblebee. “I took a scan, and it appears as though their security measures are still operational.” Both their gazes trailed down to Bumblebee’s Autobot badge. “I do not have the necessary clearance to dismantle them.”

It sounded like Optimus’ assumption had been wrong; the Decepitcons had blocked Megatron’s signature frequency. Apparently, not the general immunity it granted him, but anything that required a higher clearance? That was all gone.

That was fine, though. Small mercies, Bumblebee tried to remind himself.

Bumblebee peeked out from behind the foliage at the door. Plants had grown throughout the area. Sun was spilling from the new dawn, dappling the grass and the moss with a soft haze. Ivy almost completely covered the door, but Bumblebee could see a faint purple glow underneath the green.

“I can hack the door to turn off the security,” the scout suggested quietly, pointing towards it. “Just not remotely. I’ll need to at least get to the servo scanner.”

Megatron nodded. “If you stay behind me, it should not detect you. Terrans–”

“Stay here?” Twitch blinked innocently, as if she had listened to the last order to stay put. “Of course we will!”

“Yeah, Megatron! Who do you take us for?” Thrash agreed, pumping his fists.

Bumblebee wanted to bury his face into his servos, but that just wouldn’t do. Instead, he adjusted his position to be behind Megatron. Lowering his center of gravity, Bumblebee rocked on his heels until he was certain he wouldn’t be seen behind Megatron’s back. His stinger transformed out.

Megatron led the way to the door. There was a whirr of laser cannons activating at the proximity, but all they did was point at Megatron like they were thinking.

Megatron kept his servos up, a quiet show of surrender even if body language didn’t actually register with turrets, a facade of calmness. Bumblebee was half expecting Megatron to twist around and shoot him in the face, but he knew better. He did.

When they got close enough to the door, Megatron reached out to grab the ivy covering the entrance, sweeping it back. He held it back with both servos, and Bumblebee slid underneath his legs to start fiddling with the scanner.

The lasers fruitlessly pointed at Megatron, and Bumblebee kept his shoulders tensed as he ripped open the access panel underneath the scanner. Above him, the warlord’s overwhelming presence loomed. His shadow was an uncomfortable presence, watching his every movement.

If Bumblebee were attacked, he was completely and fully cornered. No going back, since that’s where Megatron was. Going to the sides was nearly impossible with the way the former warlord was standing, and Bumblebee wouldn’t be able to go far anyway, what with the laser fire.

  He could get the Terrans to run, maybe. All they had to do was get far enough away to go undercover, and they’d be safe from Megatron.

Bumblebee carefully cut three of the wires, spreading his digits out across them to carefully pin them down as he looked across them and tried to figure out the next step.

The Terrans didn’t know the way back home. They didn’t have a GPS, and they didn’t have built-in communicators. They had spent a majority of the drive in Megatron, unable to see landmarks or scan the distance. They didn’t know where they were in the world, much less how to get home.

Megatron could get his own story straight long before they did.

Bumblebee took the red wire and twisted it together with the yellow wire, squinting a bit at the sparks that lit up from the faulty connection. His stinger came out, carefully soldering the wires until they were connected.

A jolt rocked through his body, and Bumblebee hissed to himself. He took a nano-klik to steady himself, and then turned trembling servos back into the cluster of wires.

Above him, Megatron silently watched. “Would it be easier if I stepped back to let you work?”

Bumblebee shook his helm. Loathe as he was to admit it, Megatron was helping. Holding back the blockage was extremely convenient and not usually a luxury Bumblebee got. Additionally, he was keeping the blasters off Bumblebee’s back. He could appreciate it.

“If you’re sure,” Megatron hummed mildly, not sounding inclined one way or another.

“Stay there.” Bumblebee hissed. He set his optics back on his task, and tried to dismiss his current predicament and the Terrans from his mind.

Moving onto the next wires, he connected the brass to the other red and brass wire. Above them, the turrets began to fritz, trembling from the faulty energy running through them.

Carefully, Bumblebee stretched his arm as far into the hole as he could. He felt even more trapped than he was, but that was fine. He was so incredibly fine.

He grabbed a thick purple cable in the back, and carefully yanked only one end out from the panel, pulling it as far forward as he could. Then he popped up the base of the servo scanner and shoved the free end straight into it.

A surge of energy was all it took for Bumblebee to flinch backwards, back strut hitting against Megatron’s leg. He startled forward again, standing straight up, servos on his hips. “Well!” He churred, awkwardly. The warlord’s presence was fierce behind him. “That’s that! You should be able to get in now!”

Megatron shifted, bending his servo at an awkward angle to get it onto the scanner. The door snapped open in one solid movement, screeching like Ratbat did that one time Bumblebee stepped on him.

Bumblebee could smell rust.

“Frag it,” Megatron cursed, apparently able to detect the same. He leaned down, his helm light turning online as he did a sweep along the floor. “That’s not good.”

Organic life might not expedite the rust process, but water certainly did. And in a forest as lush and green as this was, it probably rained a ton. Without proper upkeep, that meant rust.

At least it wasn’t as bad as the cybonic plague. “It’s fine,” Bumblebee said, looking over it all. “I brought oil. We’ll just make sure to clean up once we get a little further inside.”

Megatron looked over his shoulder, raising an optic.

“It’s fine,” Bumblebee repeated, optics drifting to his own pedes. “It should… It should only be localized to the entrance. It… Terrans! It’s clear now!”

Thrash burst out of the treeline first, windmilling his arms in excitement. “Great! Can’t wait to get this mission in gear!”

“Wait a minute,”  Twitch blinked up at the base. “This is a Decepticon base.”

“Cool,” Thrash said, rocking on his heel struts. “Stick it to them.”

“Not every Decepticon is bad, Thrash!”

“Haven’t met any good ones yet! Except for Megs.”

Megatron waved slowly at the Terrans as their argument picked up.

“Right, but we can’t just say that they’re all bad!” Twitch added, tossing up her servos in exasperation. “Hashtag gets along with Starscream! Nightshade and Tarantulas are friends, and didn’t Grimlock also used to be a Decepticon?”

“Not really,” Bumblebee muttered behind his servo. “He just didn’t like Autobots and tended to either avoid us or fight us.”

“A neutral party,” Megatron added, nodding his helm. “He didn’t much like us Decepticons, either. We got plenty of reports of Dinobots plaguing our patrols and stealing our energon. It was quite the hindrance.”

“What changed?” Thrash asked curiously, shoving his servo in his sister’s face as she pouted.

“I… honestly have no clue.” Bumblebee admitted. He waited for Megatron to speak up himself, but all the mech did was stare blankly at the Terrans. “I, um… Guess that’s a question for Optimus and Wheeljack.”

“I know that this mission is not exactly ideal,” Megatron told the Terrans. “You are correct to approach this with caution and to not immediately go along with it. The truth is, this is a controversial mission. Unfortunately, as someone with plenty of experience with Decepticons, I know all too well how literally their names can be used.”

Twitch’s intake fell into a gape. “What? But they helped us! Starscream saved my life! From you! And– And, Bumblebee’s best friend is a Decepticon!” Twitch said, somehow managing to out Bumblebee in one sentence.

Megatron rounded on Bumblebee in surprise. “Really?”

“Problem is, he’s a good Decepticon,” Bumblebee muttered under his vents, avoiding those pressing optics, tearing him apart, laying his spark bare. “I can’t exactly trust him, which doesn’t make him a good friend.”

“Even if he’s not a good one, he’s the best one you’ve got.” Thrash victoriously stated.

“Because he’s your only friend.” Twitch nodded.

“Yeah, because he’s your only friend.”

“I have friends,” Bumblebee argued, but he knew it was a moot point from the way both Terrans were grinning at him. “That’s besides the point. Megatron’s right,” saying so felt like he was pulling himself apart bolt by bolt, “Decepticons are known for their back-stabbing. It’s great that you guys are getting along with them, and we want to trust them… But there’s been enough instances of them pulling something similar off in the past that we want to double check.”

Twitch rubbed her arm, frowning at the base leering before her, the hallways dark and empty. “I… I guess that makes sense. I just don’t want to offend anybody.”

“Decepticons know what they’re like. If they get offended, it’s only an excuse for them to restart the fighting.” Bumblebee told her firmly. “I wouldn’t blame them if they tried to look into us and our motivations. We’ve been enemy factions for how long now?”

“Too long.” Megatron muttered. “However, I would not completely dismiss the Decepticon feelings. We are, after all, prying into their servers. Everything they said, whether personal or private, will be on full display for us to see. That is not so easily dismissable.”

Bumblebee winced. He stared down at his pedes, nodding. “Right. Yeah.”

“Will we be seeing your messages?” Twitch’s optics lit up. Argument promptly forgotten, she tugged on Megatron’s arm enthusiastically.

“Let us pray to Primus that we won’t,” Megatron grumbled, uncharacteristically soft as he reached down to set his servo over the top of hers.

Bumblebee’s optics burned. His servos clenched into fists, watching them start to turn and head into the base. Megatron couldn’t be close to Twitch, and yet it was fully within his rights. Bumblebee was just being paranoid.

Thrash took a grand total of three steps after his sister and Megatron before pausing. Looked over his shoulder at Bumblebee, his optical ridges furrowed. “Hey, you coming? Or is this another secret thing we’re not allowed to know about?”

Well, that would be the simple answer. It would keep him away from Megatron, at least. But Bumblebee was not a liar, and he didn’t think Megatron would back him up on this, anyway.

“No, I’m coming.” Bumblebee swallowed, following after them quickly. “I just… it’s been a while since I’ve been in a Decepticon base.”

“I’ve never been!” Thrash said merrily, transforming his pedes into wheels, skating forward in avid exhilaration, servos lifted high above his helm. He skated past Twitch and Megatron, cheering as he did, and then twisted around and dabbed. “First big field trip!”

“That you snuck along on!” Bumblebee spluttered. “I’m still not happy about that– Primus. Slow down, Thrash, I still have to do a stability scan.”

Thrash paused, lowering his servos, and both he and Twitch looked at Bumblebee in confusion.

“A stability scan?” Twitch asked, letting go of Megatron to skirt backwards and peer at Bumblebee’s wrist gauntlet as he clicked onto it. “What does that do? Can I do it?”

“Uh,” Bumblebee coughed. “I’m… not sure if you have one installed, but I can show you how to do it on mine, I guess. We’ve really got to get Wheeljack to upgrade you.”

“Wheeljack does upgrades?” Thrash asked, skating back over to Bumblebee’s side.

“Well,” Bumblebee faltered when Megatron turned around as well, sharp red eyes stabbing through the space as he peered down at them.  He took a moment to compose himself, and then continued. “Yes, he does. He’s had to step up in a big way as the medic of the Autobots in recent stellar-cycles. Which is kind of funny, because his predecessor, Ratchet, swore to Primus that there were no transferable skills between mechanic and medic.”

“Wheeljack’s just that good.” Twitch burst, beaming proudly.

Bumblebee tapped through the settings on his gauntlet’s screen, pulling up his scanners. “I mean, sure, but… I think it’s more that nobody else had an interest. Wheeljack enjoys learning new things, so if anyone was going to take over the job, it’d be him.”

Bumblebee left out that he didn’t actually know why Wheeljack decided to learn. He had already been on the run by the time the switch happened, and everything was purely speculation at this point.

However, Wheeljack was talkative, and Bumblebee knew about how far the older scientists’ knowledge extended. It was Wheeljack, after all, who had helped piece him back together after Bot Brawl and the Autobots’ assault.

“He can give you whatever upgrades you need,” Bumblebee continued thoughtfully. He held out his wrist so Twitch could scan the right button to start the scan. It wouldn’t cover the entire base, just the immediate areas, but it was good enough.

“Like stability scanners?” Twitch asked, optics wide.

Bumblebee nodded. “Like scanners for proximity, stability, radiation, rust, whatever else. He could probably even do communicators so you can stop carrying around the handheld ones.”

“I brought them if we need them!” Thrash cheered, starting to pull out a familiar pair of yellow merchandise.

Bumblebee set his free servo over Thrash’s before Megatron could see, making him tuck them back away into his subspace. “Yeah, we’re not using them. You two aren’t separating. You’re sticking with either myself or with…” he gestured at Megatron, carefully not meeting the mech’s optics, “...for this entire mission.”

“Your mission, your rules!” Twitch chirped, as if she and Thrash being here wasn’t disobeying his rules. She stared intently at the screen, pointing at it. “What’s that purple stuff mean?”

Bumblebee startled, looking back down. “Oh. That’s not good.”

Megatron’s optics narrowed. “The purple indicates a lack of stability. It’s more than is typical for any Decepticon base…  Hmm.”

“Well, proves why it was a good idea that Optimus gave us extra time.” Bumblebee muttered to himself. “Now we’ve got to navigate a base that could collapse at any given point.”

Thrash gave the display a dubious look. “Well, that’s not the entire base, is it? It’s showing only a little part of it.”

“Yes,” Bumblebee agreed, “but it’s possible that the rest of the base is just as bad. We’ll be doing scans every once in a while to get a more thorough understanding of what’s going on. It’s… probably due to earthquakes. No Cybertronian really knows how to build stuff around dirt.”

“Except for Nightshade, right?” Twitch asked, optics shining.

“Right, but Nightshade was born here. Every other Cybertronian was born surrounded by metal and knowing everything they have has to be forged. I guess Nightshade was born knowing about ground stability and tectonic plates.”

Megatron frowned. “What’s an earthquake?”

“It's Earth's term for "Primus stretching". But it doesn’t happen at regular intervals.” Bumblebee explained shortly. “Humans have the technology to predict it, anyway. Cybertronians would not.”

“So the base is falling apart because Decepticons never bothered to read up on Earth?” Thrash inquired, trying to compare the instability readings on the screen with what he was seeing in the room. “That honestly… sounds about right.”

“We’ll just have to be extra careful is all.” Bumblebee told them. “Try not to disturb this place more than it’s already been. The last thing we need is a cave-in.”

“No cave-ins, got it.” Twitch said to herself, hovering off the ground, frowning at the metal like it would swallow her whole if she wandered too far.

Megatron turned back around, gesturing at them to keep following. “Come along, little ones. There is progress to be made, and a little bit of wreckage will not stop us.”

Bumblebee felt his expression twist. He wanted to scold Megatron for being so reckless with the children’s safety, but he could admit that he wasn’t much better. He wouldn’t just tell Twitch and Thrash to wait outside, after all.

If the rest of the base was as unstable as this section was, then most of that deca-cycle would be devoted to navigating instead of repairs.

“Just be careful,” Bumblebee told the Terrans. “If you walk, test every step you take to make sure it can take your weight. Or just walk behind me and only go where I do.”

“Or climb up.” Twitch said, sitting down squarely on Bumblebee’s shoulder.

“What.” Bumblebee deadpanned.

Thrash was up on Bumblebee’s other shoulder in an instant. “Oh, you’re right! This is much better. Okay, Bee, only step where Megatron does, got it?”

Bumblebee sighed, but it was better than them latching onto Megatron or going so far ahead that he couldn’t catch them if something happened. He could live with this.

Chapter Text

Two more stability scans later, carefully marking each and every area down on his map and overlaying them together, and they came to their first roadblock.

The ground ahead was fully torn away, the earth underneath forming a huge sinkhole and sucking the metal along with it. Even the walls were mostly missing. Bumblebee was confident that the only thing holding the ceiling up was pure luck.

Both him and Megatron stood as close to the edge as they dared, their headlights pointing deep expanse below. There was no bottom as far as Bumblebee could see, and he knew his optics had better range than Megatron’s.

“Oh,” Thrash said, shifting forward on Bumblebee’s shoulder. To account for the change in weight, Bumblebee took a step backwards “Well. I guess that’s what happens when stuff is unstable, huh?”

“Yeah.” Bumblebee mildly agreed. “It is.” He looked across the broken and cracked ground, frowning at the next ledge. “That’s… not a good sign.”

“I can fly across!” Twitch suggested, rotors churning merrily on her back. “I can test the ground for stability on the other side, make sure you all can actually land!”

“Well, we can still scan from this side,” Bumblebee began, and then hesitated when she slightly deflated. “But, we can never be too careful. Make sure to slowly land when you get to the other side. If the ground moves even the slightest bit, fly right back and we’ll find a workaround.”

As Megatron leaned against the wall, which Bumblebee thought was a downright poor idea, the larger mech pulled up his own gauntlet to scan the area around them. Twitch bounded off Bumblebee’s shoulder, soaring to the other side.

Her pedes landed carefully, and she rocked on her heels for a moment, turning around slowly. “Nothing’s breaking!”

“It says it’s unstable,” Megatron added. “If we move an additional five meters past where she’s at, it should maintain enough stability to support our weight.”

Bumblebee nodded thoughtfully. There was the matter of getting back once all their tasks were completed. If they caused enough instability, then it’d be even more treacherous coming back the way they came.

They’d have to proceed carefully in order to not mess up the delicate balance of the infrastructure.

“I’ll come back and grab Thrash,” Twitch suggested, taking a couple steps backward to stand at Megatron’s specified space area. “I would take all three of you, but I think you might be just a little bit too heavy for me. But at least Thrash and I would be all safe and stuff.”

Honestly, the further away the Terrans were from Megatron, the less Bumblebee would panic, and he lifted up a servo to take Thrash’s. “That might be for the best, Twitch, thank you.”

“Did you all forget that I can fly?” Megatron deadpanned. “I simply cannot transform.”

“Oh,” Twitch said, barely heard over the wide expanse of the ravine.

“Oh right!” Thrash nodded.

Before Bumblebee could even think to stop him, Thrash jumped off of Bumblebee’s shoulder to instead land awkwardly on Megatron’s. He stumbled slightly upon impact, but Megatron held up his servo to stabilize him just in time.

“Careful,” Megatron chided, interrupting Bumblebee’s opening mouth. “If you had lost your balance, you could have fallen. We might not have caught you in time.”

“Right,” Thrash smiled back, strained. “Dying isn’t fun.”

Bumblebee tried to ignore how Thrash would know that particular fact. His servos curled into fists, and for a brief, tight moment he wished Mandroid was still alive so he could punch the guy in the face.

Twitch appeared next to Bumblebee, her sudden presence a surprise. She gave him a meek smile, betraying her worry for her brother. Wrapping her servos under Thrash’s arms, her rotors whirred, and she lifted him off of Megatron’s shoulders.

Bumblebee watched them go, the tension in his chassis laxening at the distance. Upon both of their pedes touching down on the other side, he snapped back to the cruel realization that Megatron was still looming by his side.

Slag. He had just left himself alone with the former warlord.

Bumblebee distracted himself by peeking over the ledge again, trying to ignore the possibility that, if Megatron wanted to, he could push him right into the nothingness. His spark twinged, able to hear Megatron’s awkward shuffling to his side.

He couldn’t focus on that. He couldn’t. 

The distance between himself and the safe area was further than he would normally be comfortable with. With Megatron by his side, all hesitations fled, replaced by the desperate need to get over and get away.

Bumblebee withdrew, huffing under his breath as he took a step backwards into the tunnel behind him.

And then Megatron’s servo extended in front of his face. “I can give you a ride, if you–?”

“No!” Bumblebee interrupted before he could think better of it, taking an alarmed step back. He could catch the glimmer of Twitch and Thrash’s glowing orange and blue optics, furrowed in confusion. Hastening to fix his mistake, Bumblebee smiled. “I mean, no, I… I think I have an idea on how to get across. Thanks.”

Megatron frowned at him. “It would be easier to allow me to help you then insisting on  being–”

“I get it.” Bumblebee interrupted. “Thanks, I appreciate it, but… I’ve got it.”

Megatron looked between the Terrans and Bumblebee, clearly struggling for a klik. Eventually, he sighed, and inclined his helm at Bumblebee. “If you insist. Do not die. The Terrans would be upset.”

“Don’t even joke.” Bumblebee hissed, taking a couple more steps back, jogging in place for a nano-klik, and then transformed into his alt mode. He rolled backwards until his bumper hit the last turn they had taken until entering this hallway.

Megatron grunted, but turned to fly back to the other end regardless. He shooed the Terrans backwards, probably to give Bumblebee space, but with him covering the Terrans from sight, Bumblebee felt an overwhelming coldness crawl into his spark.

Ugh, he was being immature. Megatron was being kind, and, shockingly, helpful.

How long would it take for him to get that?

Shaking the paranoia from his processor, Bumblebee focused on lining himself up parallel to the walls. With a flare of his boosters, he lurched forward, wheels turning and engine rumbling. Going from 0-100kph in approximately a second, Bumblebee ignited his energon boosters, pulling backwards.

His front wheels tugged into the air before he hit the collapse in the hallway, and his rear wheels followed suit a quarter nano-klik later.

Bumblebee increased his throttle, aiming for the other side to the best of his ability. He angled himself down again to catch the other side, landing against the metal with a rattle that shook his entire frame.

He hit the brakes immediately to avoid barrelling the Terrans and Megatron over. The sudden stop was too much for the ground to handle, and it started to crumple out beneath his rear wheels.

Frag it–

Megatron reached out, grabbing Bumblebee’s bumper before he could slip, yanking him forward in one fluid motion, away from the crumpling edge.

Panic beaded up within Bumblebee for a nano-klik, and he barely managed to hold onto himself for long enough to fully be free. Then he was lurching out of alt mode, kicking away Megatron’s servo. (This time, Megatron let go.)

His back strut hit the wall, frame trembling. Anxiety coursed through his frame, and he wrestled with himself, trying to get ahold of his own raging processor.

“I needed to grab you,” Megatron said slowly, optic ridges furrowed. He looked frustrated. Angry. “You would have been injured, if not dead, if I had not.”

“Yeah,” Bumblebee spat, his processor a raging mess, “I’m aware of the premise. Just– just give me a klik, okay?”

“Um–” Twitch looked between Bumblebee and Megatron, confused. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Megatron scoffed. “Let’s give him a klik, shall we?”

Bumblebee focused on stabilizing himself, hating how everything was elevated, chassis squeezing uncertainly. His spark was pulsing in and out of being, and oh, it all hurt. His pedes burned, the phantom pains of where Megatron had grabbed him lacing through his entire frame.

What ended up forcing his processor to reboot, locking back onto the world around him, was the fact that Megatron, servos on either Terrans’ shoulders, was guiding them away from Bumblebee.

He was taking them away. He couldn’t take them away, they were Bumblebee’s. His charges, his responsibility. Dot would kill him if something happened to them. Primus, she was probably already planning to kill him.

“I’m fine,” Bumblebee took a step forward, optics locked on the Terrans and avoiding meeting Megatron’s gaze. “Sorry. The close-to-death experience got me good, I guess.”

Twitch stared at him, doubtful, but not arguing.

Thrash, however, narrowed his optics at Bumblebee, glowering up at him. “Are you sure that almost falling was the problem? Because it looked like you just don’t like Megatron.”

“I–!” Bumblebee spluttered, processor whirring, trying to figure out an excuse, something to say. Thrash continued to glare at him, and Bumblebee forced himself to look upwards at Megatron, making uncomfortable eye contact with the bigger mech. “...thanks. For catching me.”

Megatron gave a curt nod, spinning on his heel strut.

Bumblebee gave Thrash a shrug, praying that it was enough to wave away Thrash’s suspicion. It did no such thing. If anything, Thrash just looked even more suspicious.

“Thrash,” Bumblebee offered, trying to steer the conversation into something a bit more lighthearted. “Do you want to do the next stability scan?”

Thrash glowered at him for another long klik, and then decisively held out his servo for Bumblebee’s wrist gauntlet. “Yeah. Sure. Whatever.”

Bumblebee gently held it out for Thrash, watching the younger bot with a wave of nervousness. He didn’t want to end up in a poor situation with either of the twins. Thrash was already watching him like he was a plague, and… honestly Bumblebee couldn’t blame him.

He looked back on the hole, even more crumbled than when they came in. It was the exact problem he had wanted to avoid. Leaving the facility later would be more complicated, but there might be another exit elsewhere. They would find a solid map for it.

Distantly, Bumblebee wondered if Megatron knew more of the layout, but, no, no. That was off the table to ask. He didn’t want to start a conversation with Megatron.

His pedes burned.

The memory of Megatron’s anger echoed in his audials, in his very spark. Screaming at the sky, as if the stars could protect him, screaming at the ground as if Primus would open up and swallow Megatron. Tears, pleading.

At Tyger Pax, Bumblebee had run from Megatron and tried to speed past him. When he gained enough ground, he had switched into reverse and tried to peel away backwards, a futile attempt to outmanuver the warlord.

Instead, Megatron grabbed his bumper and held on tight. Refusing to let go, even when Bumblebee transformed, kicking and screaming, Megatron had smiled, although his words and tone had been nothing but cruel.

Give him a klik to say his prayers, give him a klik to remember his Prime, who he is suffering for–

Bumblebee didn’t suffer for Optimus anymore. He suffered for the Terrans.

The Terrans, who viewed Megatron like an uncle. Who loved him, even though their mother was not shy about talking about all the horrible things he did.

Thrash was barely touching Bumblebee. His digits barely pressed any of the buttons on his gauntlet, the Terran glaring furiously down at the device. He was so mad, because he had seen today for what it was.

An overreaction.

Worse, Bumblebee was the one who wasn’t trying to bridge the gap. He was a bad example.

“Hey,” Twitch said slowly as Thrash glared at the gauntlet, servos anxiously fluttering. “You want to shorten the range a little bit so it’s more precise–”

“I know that,” Thrash snapped, glaring at his sister. The regret came hot and fast a nano-klik later, and he deflated. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m working on it. Just… give me a sec.”

“Right,” Twitch bobbed her helm. “I can do that.” She looked between them, expression clenching and loosening as she contemplated. “I… am going to go catch up with Megatron! You two have fun over here, and I’m going to…” She held up her servos, pointing with her thumbs backwards. After an awkward beat, she nodded to herself. “Yup. Going now. Bye!”

Bumblebee’s optics locked on Twitch, watching her flee after Megatron, flying up to hover at his shoulder.

Megatron relaxed at her presence. He did not lift up a servo, intending to hurt. He just turned his helm to look at her, and…

He smiled.

Kindly.

Bumblebee wanted to cry. He wanted to throw himself at the ground and beg and demand to know why he had to deal with this. Why did he have to watch and forgive and understand that everything was better now, and how could he be angry at Megatron? How could he be angry at a bot who would no longer hurt a fly? How, how, how?

“Seriously,” Thrash sniffed. “What is that?”

Startling, Bumblebee’s optics snapped back to the silver Terran. He held it for half a nano-klik, and then the paranoia ate at his spark and he had to look back up to their companions. “What’s what?”

“That look! You keep looking at Megatron with these– these eyes.” Thrash struggled for a visible nano-klik, trying to figure out what he even wanted to say. What he thought was so important and yet could not grasp. “I don’t get it. I thought you all got along.”

“We–” Bumblebee stuttered for a nano-klik, grief and frustration at himself clawing at his spark chamber. “We do. We’re supposed to.”

“But you don’t.” Thrash said. He couldn’t maintain the anger, expression breaking and cracking down the middle. “What happened? Did– did you two have a fight? Did you stop getting along? Is that why Optimus sent you all the way out here, by yourself, away from us? So we wouldn’t interrupt? So you could figure out this whole thing? Because– ‘Cause I’m sorry if that’s what it was. If you had told us, we would’ve stayed behind!”

“No, Thrash.” Bumblebee sighed, pressing his servo against Thrash’s forehelm, staring down at his charge.

Thrash’s optics were big and wide, confusion and sadness mixing in his gaze. The only person Thrash had ever fought with was his parents and Twitch, and both usually got resolved by end of day.

The silver sparkling didn’t have a frame of reference for this. Thrash couldn’t grasp the years of built-up fear, of knowing you could never be safe again. To know your youth and innocence would be torn away for the simple act of loyally serving Optimus.

And now Optimus was no longer the problem. It was Bumblebee. It was all Bumblebee.

…maybe it would be better for Thrash to think he was right. To not know about the whole situation at Tyger Pax. Maybe Bumblebee could swallow it all down.

“You wouldn’t have stayed behind,” Bumblebee whispered, so that Thrash wouldn’t think any of this was his fault. He pressed a digit against Thrash’s olfactory sensor, and the sensation against the malleable metal was enough to draw a tiny smile from Thrash’s intake. “Because you two don’t know how to mind your own business! You would’ve tried stuffing Megs and I into a “get along” shirt.”

“Hey!” Thrash laughed, frustration forgotten in the face of the teasing. “I would not have!”

“You’re right. Twitch would’ve, but you would have easily been convinced to help her.” Bumblebee joked, studying Thrash’s expression. “Sometimes bots – adults – fight. Sometimes it gets tense. I promise that it’s not your fault. You’re doing great, okay?”

Thrash nodded. “Okay.”

When Bumblebee offered his servo, this time for Thrash to hold, the Terran took it in an instant, squeezing tight. “Come on,” Bumblebee encouraged. “Let’s catch up with your sister and Megatron.”

(:)

They got to the barracks a groon later. The Terrans took a liking to them immediately, flitting over to the doorways, getting their digits into the seams, and ripping them open. Rust was shorn off of the metal, and a shriek from the corrosion being grated against each other ran through the air.

Bumblebee winced, and Megatron glowered.

“Primus,” Bumblebee whispered, wincing to himself as he followed the kids over.

The room they had discovered was cluttered with all sorts of memorabilia. Medals and badges. A cabinet full of datapads that had long since run out of charge. Different colours of pauldrons stacked up. A blaster in the corner that looked overused but still taken care of.

There was a Decepticon tapestry ripped in half.

Bumblebee wondered if he had ever met this bot on the battlefield. Worse, he wondered if he had done anything to them.

Bumblebee never tortured. But he killed when he could and hurt what he couldn’t. Such was the way of war.

If you couldn’t win it, you could at least make the enemy think twice.

“Who lived here?” Thrash asked curiously, looking past Bumblebee at Megatron.

Megatron stepped too close, too too close, to Bumblebee’s shoulder, staring into the bunk. Sorrow coated his expression, and he shook his helm. “I do not know. I was never the… personable leader Optimus was. Charismatic, perhaps, but I did not take the time to meet the individual.” His servo lingered on the doorframe. “...it is one of the main things I regret with this war.”

“You didn’t know your own team?” Thrash huffed, looking at Megatron in displeasure. “That’s kind of messed up.”

Megatron sighed. “You know full well that I did not used to care about any of my soldiers. To me, that’s all they were. My weapons. It was your mother who encouraged me to change for the better and start paying attention to the “little guy”.”

“I remember that,” Twitch nodded enthusiastically. “Mom is the best!”

“She is.” Megatron agreed.

Bumblebee found humor in the fact that Megatron hadn’t known his own forces, yet back during Tyger Pax, he had seen Bumblebee across the field and he had recognized him as Optimus’s scout.

Ha. Keep your enemies closer.

“Whoever they were, they seemed artsy,” Twitch said wisely, bobbing her helm. “Like, look! They’re so decorative. They must’ve switched out their shoulder plating a lot. And look at all their posters! They kind of look like Mo’s wrestling posters, don’t they?”

“They do,” Thrash nodded, “they really do! Mo would’ve loved whoever this guy is!”

There were so many Autobots and Decepticons who deserved better. Bumblebee had no clue how many were dead and how many were back on Cybertron. It shouldn’t be that easy to lose track of, oh, a few million bots.

But here he was. Clueless.

“We must continue on.” Megatron summoned dully. “There is much ground to travel, and I believe it will only get more hazardous from here.”

Right. Right. “Come on, kids.” Bumblebee called, waving them after him. “Let’s listen to Megatron and get our gears in drive.”

On and on they walked, sidestepping around dangerous parts of the ground and collapsed hallways. Bumblebee peaked through one open hole and found a lab that looked eerily torturous. Likely Shockwave’s, then.

He hustled the Terrans along before they could look too closely.

When they came to the next open hole in the ground, the Terrans flew ahead immediately, Twitch setting Thrash down daintily and then landing another two meters further down.

“Bumblebee,” Megatron said authoritatively, voice a whisper as to not attract the attention of the Terrans, speaking to each other excitedly as they waited for the older two mechs to cross. “It is in both of our best interest to have me carry you across. I do not wish for another near-death experience.”

Primus. Megatron was going to have to carry him. Hold him aloft by the neck and sneer at him, blade readying to stab into–

No. No. Bumblebee had to stop thinking like that. About that.

“I…” Despite himself, Bumblebee hesitated, reaching up to pinch the space in between his optic ridges. He let himself stew for a nano-klik, wafting in the rivers of pure fear that waited for him.

Megatron’s field hesitantly pressed against his own. It was thick, attempting its servo at reassurance for what felt like the first time ever. Bumblebee knew that wasn’t true, though. He had walked into rooms where Megatron was talking to someone enough times to feel the former warlord’s unfurled field. At Bumblebee’s jolt of terror of his own, Megatron always withdrew.

Making room for Bumblebee, dismissing his own discomfort.

It was kind of him. Bumblebee, kind of hated it. He wished his fear could be justified, but… it wasn’t.

“Fine,” Bumblebee whispered into the air, hating himself the entire time. Preemptively, he made sure to disable his weapon systems and forced them to remain locked, just for a few kliks. Bumblebee couldn’t risk them going off. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but… just make it quick.”

“Of course.” Megatron agreed, reaching out and grabbing Bumblebee under his arms.

Bumblebee’s vents snapped shut, terrified to make a noise, even as Megatron levitated off the ground and began flying forward, covering the short distance without any strain. Panic rose through the scout as they crossed over the middle of the pit, half expecting Megatron to drop him into the unknown below.

Perhaps it was a sinkhole. Perhaps it was just slightly too deep for their headlights to see the bottom of. Bumblebee didn’t want to find out. He really didn’t.

It came as a burning relief when, instead of dropping him, Megatron ferried him to the hard floor and set him down.

The moment Bumblebee’s pedes touched the ground and Megatron’s grip softened, Bumblebee began marching forward, away from the former warlord’s digits, back onto solid ground.

The familiar curl of dread wasn’t leaving. It was still hot against his neck and circuitry. He could feel the way his throat burned from ripping claws. He wanted to scream, but there was no voice box he could use, crushed into shrapnel on the ground, just far enough away that he couldn’t reach it–

But he was fine, because that had happened seven hundred cycles ago. Ratchet had fixed him right up.

Once he found his voice box again, processor rebooting and the connection being made, he called over his shoulder at the Terrans. “Come on,” he instructed. “We’re burning daylight.”

“We don’t have daylight in here,” Twitch said matter-of-a-factly, looking between Megatron and Bumblebee with a wondering expression, clearly wanting to pry, just like her brother had.

Normally, her “matter of a fact”ness Bumblebee would laugh. Now he just felt as though he was just burning, pedes leaving scalding holes in the floor behind him. “Yeah, yeah… You know what I mean.”

He could feel the Terrans exchange a look behind his back, and he heard Megatron sigh in frustration. Bumblebee didn’t want to turn around and face the Terran’s disappointment or Megatron’s rage. He was too terrified to.

Numbly, he checked his internal clock. He could survive eight more days of keeping a tight grip on his emotions, of being afraid with every step he took, right?

Of course he could. He was Bumblebee, best scout ever! There was nothing he couldn’t do.

So, he could certainly do this.

Chapter Text

“We should stop here for the night.” Megatron pressed, coming to a stop in the middle of an open area that might’ve once been a lounge. “At the pace we’re going, it will be another two groons – pardon me, nearly three hours – before we arrive at the command center and can even somewhat understand what is going wrong.”

Bumblebee’s spark quietly encouraged him to keep going, keep fighting, the mission wasn’t done yet–

But reluctantly he nodded. “Alright… You’re right. Terrans, time for your next ration of cave water.” As the Terrans popped open their subspace, he reached into his own to withdraw two cubes, quietly handing one cube over to Megatron.

Megatron was careful as he pulled it out of Bumblebee’s servo, doing his best so that their digits did not touch. He drew it against his chassis, mildly sipping on the energon cube.

As Bumblebee pulled out his own, he almost envied Megatron. If the former warlord had been the one to carry their rations, Bumblebee would’ve spent every nano-klik paranoid that his was poisoned or spiked. Megatron had no such preconceptions.

He just… trusted Bumblebee. No strings attached.

Bumblebee closed his optics for a nano-klik, forcing himself to relax. “I’ll take the first watch. You… should all get some rest.”

Megatron’s optics narrowed into slits, studying Bumblebee carefully. Bumblebee was so relaxed that he didn’t even shift under the weighty gaze! Definitely not.

“Fine,” Megatron finally permitted, taking a long sip of energon. “But I will take over in a few groons.”

Bumblebee stared at him for a few nano-kliks, then offered a tense nod. “Right. Sounds good to me.” Shared responsibilities were supposed to be fine, but Bumblebee couldn't help but think of that one old human phrase–

Sleep with one eye open.

Setting up a holographic display of a campfire for the Terrans’ sake and hopefully giving the illusion of camping, Bumblebee sat down next to the open doorway. He crossed his arms stubbornly, taking in the surrounding area and cataloging every opening and every shadow that was a little too dark.

In all honesty, there weren’t supposed to be any real threats here. At very least, there weren’t Decepticons lurking around every corner. There was really no need for a watch, but… Bumblebee was nothing if not careful.

Even on the run, in his alt mode, he would set up perimeter scanners just in case someone approached. Despite all their flaws, he wasn’t exactly able to go on watch when he was by himself. He needed to recharge, so he needed to trust his tools.

For just a couple groons, he would be able to stay awake and try to get a handle on himself. Maybe watching Megatron rest with the Terrans would be enough for him to finally figure out that Megatron wasn’t a threat.

Except he was a threat. He was a pretty big one. He just wasn’t a threat to Bumblebee anymore. Optimus had said this whole plan had been Megatron’s idea to catch the Decepticons. He was using his intellect more than his fists now, Bumblebee supposed.

The Terrans drifted off to sleep rather quickly, shuffling against one another and wrapping their servos securely around their twin. Even in sleep, they were unwilling to separate. It was almost cute, if it wasn’t from the trauma and death that led to it all.

Bumblebee loved the seven of them so much. The two that were nestled together, and all five of their siblings.

When Bumblebee looked up from his charges, he found Megatron watching him. Leaning against the wall and with arms crossed, Megatron’s face plate was pinched in concentration, watching Bumblebee carefully.

Frag. He guessed they had to have this conversation eventually. Bumblebee shifted over to the side, silently inviting Megatron to join him, even as all his pistons braced themselves. His protocols began running scenarios, but every time he systematically shut down one, it would spring back online a few kliks later. 

Megatron took his time pushing off the wall and rising to his pedes, creeping over to Bumblebee. His pedesteps still echoed through the floor, but the Terrans didn’t even stir. Bumblebee supposed they were already used to their younger siblings tramping everywhere they went without a care.

Carefully, Megatron settled down beside him, arms crossed.

Just close enough to touch, but far enough away that Bumblebee had half a nano-klik of a headstart. He could maybe grab the Terrans as he ran and not lose too much time. They had to be his first and number one priority in all circumstances.

After a few nano-kliks, Bumblebee got enough courage to turn to Megatron. “Hey.” He said, struggling to keep his voice as steady as possible. As soon as Megatron looked back, he was peeling his optics back away towards the Terrans again. “Has… I assume, since she hasn't called me asking about them, that you’ve already contacted Dot, right?”

Megatron nodded firmly. “Yes, of course.”

“Great. She… has she reached back?”

“Yes.” Megatron hummed. “She has. She is relieved her children are safe, but she is not angry at us. You do not have to worry about that.”

Thank Primus. Thank Primus.

“Okay,” Bumblebee huffed out a deep vent, nodding his helm. “Okay, thank you. That’s… awesome. I don’t… I know she was worried out of her mind. Thanks for… talking to her. For me.”

“You were right, it was only fair.” Megatron shrugged.

His optics roamed towards Bumblebee, watching him quietly for a handful of nanokliks. Bumblebee could see the former warlord out of the corner of his optics, holding back the urge to shuffle away as far as he could get.

“You can go recharge now,” Bumblebee conceded quietly with a small murmur. “That’s all I wanted to know.”

“I will shortly.” Megatron said quickly, optics still boring into Bumblebee’s plating. “There is just something I have wanted to discuss with you, and I haven’t dared with the Terrans.”

Primus. They were going to have a talk, weren’t they?

“Yeah.” Bumblebee whispered, knowing there was no way out of it. “My– my schedule’s looking pretty clear for the next couple of groons. Hit me with your best shot.”

“First of all, our circumstances are less than ideal, as I’m sure you’ve noticed.” Megatron began, and Bumblebee barely managed to withhold from rolling his optics, because, hello! Understatement.

“I, however, would like it to be on the record that this all could have been avoided if you had done as I requested and told Optimus about our… situation.” Megatron reprimanded, glancing over at Bumblebee. “I am certain he cares enough about you that he would not have sent us off together had he known. Then we both would have gotten a teammate we could actually use.”

Bumblebee nodded thickly. He knew that. Logically he knew that.

“This is your fault,” Megatron told Bumblebee, with no room for uncertainty left in his voice. “Of that, I am certain we both know.”

“Shut up.” Bumblebee returned with a harsh whisper, but only because his addled processor couldn’t come up with anything better to add. Honestly, his tanks felt sick, rolling into himself. “Of course I know that.”

The look Megatron sent him was exasperated and a touch annoyed. He was clearly struggling to keep all misconceptions of a threat off his face plate. Instead, it was replaced by something in a similar vein to worry.

It was so ridiculous looking on the former warmonger’s face plate that Bumblebee could’ve laughed. But the sound refused to rise through his engine or tumble out of his vocoder, no matter how hard he tried.

The fear had a vice grip on his pipes.

So he didn’t say anything at all.

“I would like to propose a deal.” Megatron offered after a few nano-kliks, holding out a servo. “We shall work together for the Terrans’ sakes.”

That was already the plan. Bumblebee thought with wavering desperation. Even if Dot was okay with it, it’s still your fault they’re here.

Megatron continued. “I will try to avoid you and walk where you can see me every step of the way. I will follow your lead in all things. In return, you will not flinch every time I so much as move and maintain a grip on your emotions. And, you will admit everything to Optimus once we return home.”

Bumblebee stared at the servo, waiting for him to grasp it. Not only would it force him to surrender his head start advantage, it was just about the last thing he wanted to do.

“The alternative is that I explain it to Optimus.” Megatron continued firmly. “After all, this is no longer only affecting you, Bumblebee. It has been less than two days since the Terrans joined us, and they are already seeing the strain between us. It will only get worse.”

Bumblebee’s digits twitched at his side. He had to move them. He had to.

“This cannot happen again.” The former warlord encouraged.

Apparently, that was the last thing Bumblebee needed. Thickly, he reached out his servo, clutching Megatron’s in his for a nano-klik. Two nano-kliks. Three. Four–

He ripped his grip away before they could get to five. His blaster whirred desperately within his plating, a clicking noise filling the air, and, Primus. He never unlocked that thing, did he? He just kept it sealed away without thinking?

Stupid, stupid, stupid. What if he needed it?

“I am impressed.” Megatron praised, rubbing his own wrist with a self-satisfied smile. “You held on much longer than I was anticipating. Our relationship is improving already.”

“You should recharge," Bumblebee whispered in lieu of an answer, staring bitterly at the ground. “You’ve got a shift coming up. You don’t want to nod off during it.”

Megatron sighed. “You act as though I am not aware that you will not be closing your optics during my watch. Perhaps, little scout, you should take your own advice.”

Maybe Bumblebee should. But not today.

No. Not today.

He spent the rest of his shift staring at the holographic fire and at the openings. At least, he tried to. Try as he might, his gaze kept drifting back to Megatron.

Tell Optimus.

Right, yeah. Tell Optimus that his scout was dense and blunt, that his scout didn’t believe that every living thing had the potential to carry goodness, that he didn’t forgive Megatron even when it should be so easy. Robby, Mo, and the Terrans forgave him. Which meant it was literally child’s play!

And yet.

Bumblebee was a failure.

Guess that’s what happened when you weren’t allowed to be a child because of a war that spanned nearly four million years before you were even sparked.

Bumblebee tried not to think about who’s fault that was. His optics found the culprit anyway.

(:)

“Take your next dose of cavewater,” Megatron encouraged the Terrans, taking charge as Bumblebee tried to wrangle his restless processor into something reminiscent of a fully-rested bot. “We do not intend to stop moving until we reach the command center, which is when repairs begin.”

“Ooh, what kind of repairs?” Thrash asked, optics gleaming, clearly thrilled to be included.

“We do not know yet,” Megatron admitted, looking out over the lounge area. Even it was halfway wrecked. “All we do know is that if the state of the computers are even halfway as dire as the state of the base, then they will be extensive.”

“Ugh,” Twitch wrinkled her olfactory sensor. “No wonder Optimus booked a whole week and a half for you! That sounds super frustrating to deal with!”

Megatron laughed through his vents, something hearty and deep that twisted Bumblebee’s spark but was apparently enough to make him startle back into himself. His processor fed him the spark notes on the conversation so far.

“You will be learning just how frustrating they will be right along with Bumblebee and I,” Megatron informed the eldest Terrans, ignoring how their optics bugged in confusion. “If you insist on coming with us on this mission, then you will learn how to do repairs.”

Twitch’s expression twisted. “...oh.”

“Oh come on!” Thrash complained, tossing up his servos in defiance. “How is that fair?!”

Bumblebee closed the distance between himself and the Terrans, setting a servo on their shoulders. “I’m of the personal opinion that it’s plenty fair. Besides, I can’t be in two places at once. This way I’ll be able to do repairs and keep an optic on the two of you.”

“What?” Thrash sniffed. “Are you afraid we’re going to run away? ‘Cause we’re not!”

Bumblebee shot him his best impersonation of Dot’s “nuh-uh, you better not be lying to me right now” expression.

“Oooh, right…” Twitch muttered to herself. “I guess we didn’t exactly set ourselves up to be totally, one-hundred-percent trustworthy, huh? That’s okay! It’s something new to learn.”

Her enthusiasm and positivity were infectious, because just a beat later Thrash perked up. “Hey, it’ll give us something to bond with Nightshade about! They’re going to be so impressed we know all the slang!”

Bumblebee didn’t know any of the slang himself, and Megatron definitely didn’t. Bumblebee hoped, anyway. If the Terrans didn’t learn it from either of them, then they were probably sheer out of luck with that one.

“We should start moving,” Bumblebee encouraged instead of dwelling. “The sooner we fix this place, the sooner we can leave and meet up with your family again.”

Ugh, the sooner Megatron was going to force Bumblebee to uphold his side of the bargain.

Optimus would be so mad, so upset that Bumblebee wasn’t a good role model for the Terrans, that he’d get kicked out. Another fifteen years of isolation all because he couldn’t forgive Megatron. When he came back, Optimus would ask him if he felt differently, and Bumblebee wouldn’t, because in seven hundred cycles, never once did Bumblebee ever stop being afraid, so he’d get sent out again, and–

“If memory serves,” Megatron called, and Bumblebee was snapped back into himself yet again, optics snapping over to where the former warlord stood, waving at them expectantly. “Then this way is the quickest way to the command center. Come along, little ones. We do not want to delay longer than is strictly necessary.”

A fluffy of eager and excited nods greeted him, the Terrans bursting forth to trail after the former warmonger.

Megatron gave them both a soft little smile that did not seem like it should fit his face at all, but it was there regardless. It was there, and Bumblebee had to live with it, because they had made a deal.

One that Bumblebee wanted to regret already, but could not afford to, because it would keep them sane. It would protect the Terrans from knowing there was any real animosity and fear between them.

“Remember,” Megatron was telling the Terrans as they started along the hall, Bumblebee catching up quickly to start scanning the immediate area for instability. “When we arrive at the terminal, your missions are to do exactly as Bumblebee and I tell you to. This mission may be a long one, but that is because Bumblebee and I are inexperienced at repairwork.”

“Wheeljack is the fix-it guy,” Bumblebee added, frame tightening as Megatron glanced up at him. “But not only would he invite the risk of something blowing up, but too many bots missing would make the Decepticons suspicious.”

“I’m positive we can flounder our way through it,” Megatron reassured. “Regardless, we would like this mission to go quickly and smoothly. If there is a threat, then every mistake is another moment the Autobots must live with bots that only wish to harm them. It is another opportunity to attack.”

“I really wish we could trust them…” Twitch said mournfully. “Hashtag really likes Starscream. If it turns out he’s just using us… or her…”

Megatron scoffed, so quietly that Bumblebee doubted either twin heard. It was only because he was listening, straining to notice even the smallest change of body language, just in case, just in case, that he heard it.

Turning his helm away from the Terrans, Megatron’s red optics gleamed with a mix of disappointment and disgust. Bumblebee saw it. Although he knew it was directed at Starscream, the very idea of him nauseating to Megatron, the scout’s spark clenched uneasily in his chassis. Despite their deal with one another, he wished he could take the Terrans and run.

“I know,” Thrash said quietly. “And what about Tarantulus? Nightshade’s so certain they’re good and don’t want to be a Con. If it turns out they haven’t changed, what happens to him?”

“If he’s okay,” Twitch whispered softly. Her orange optics fluttered to the ground, her selfless concern shining through. Nobody had seen Tarantulus since the graveyard. Nobody knew where he was, but it was obvious he was always on Nightshade’s processor.

“We will deal with each eventuality as we get to it.” Megatron said assuredly. “We are peeking into their comms. Seeing the information they upload to one another and deducting what it will mean.”

“If Tarantulus doesn’t join in their conspiracies, then he’ll always have a home with us. But if he’s one of the plotting Cons, then there’s nothing we can do.” Bumblebee told them.

Briefly, he thought of Breakdown, and hoped his best friend wasn’t involved.

Logically, however, he knew that if there were plotting Decepticons out there, Breakdown would doubtlessly be one of them. The stunticon hated Optimus with all his spark, and if there was a way out of working with the guy, he’d take it. He would never stay. Even for Bumblebee.

“That makes sense!” Twitch nodded, relief sweeping into her gaze. “I guess I’ll just hope that he’s not plotting anything. That none of them are.”

“That’s already the hope, whirlybird.” Bumblebee pointed out with a small laugh, holding his arm out for her to perch on like a well-trained hawk. She didn’t even blink, immediately dropping down to sit on him, kicking her legs enthusiastically as he walked. “If we find nothing here, we can rest easy.”

“I beg to differ,” Megatron huffed, not turning around. “If we get no information from this, then we will have to look into other means of getting it. We will keep searching until we can prove what they are doing.”

“But what if they aren’t doing anything?” Twitch blinked, confused.

“You’re just going to stay suspicious of them forever?” Thrash agreed, and the twins glanced at each other pointedly. “That’s not… very fair.”

“I know Starscream.” Megatron said to the air in front of him. “I know how he works. He will be finding a way to stab us all in the back. Do not trust him. No matter how friendly he may seem, no matter how many treats he gives… He’s a traitor. Never forget it.”

“But… you’re a traitor, too.” Twitch said in bewildered shock. “If we can’t trust Starscream, how can we trust you?”

“That was different,” Megatron and Thrash said at once, the former seriously and the latter in a mocking tone.

Bumblebee felt a jolt of terror, reaching out a servo to grab Thrash and pull him back, as if disrespect would be enough for Megatron’s mask to crack.

Megatron drew up short, but when he looked down at Thrash, there was nothing but fond admission in his gaze. The glance he sent Bumblebee was unimpressed, but for the twins he had nothing but love.

It kind of hurt, actually.

“I understand how that might sound amusing to you,” Megatron told Thrash, completely honest. “But believe me when I say it is the truth. I changed for the better. I saw reason, and put in the work to alter my ways. That is beyond Starscream.”

“That’s not fair,” Twitch whispered. “It’s just not.”

“Regardless,” Megatron shrugged, turning his attention fully forward once again. “That is the way it is. We must adjust.”

Thrash and Twitch exchanged a look, expressions pressed together, and then they looked at Bumblebee. Thrash jerked a thumb towards Megatron, leaning so close to Bumblebee that their plating clunked together. “Bee, do you agree with him?”

No.

“I don’t have a lot of opinions about stuff like this,” Bumblebee lied, scooping up Thrash and setting him on the opposite shoulder than the arm that was hosting Twitch. Megatron shot Bumblebee a glare, clearly hearing the fib in his words. Bumblebee carefully avoided his optics. “I just follow Optimus’ lead.”

“Boring!” Thrash sang. “You’ve got to have something!”

“Come on,” Bumblebee tsked, “The fact that I’m going on this mission at all means I agree. Megatron’s good, Starscream’s bad.”

“Or it just means you’re following Optimus’ lead.” Twitch said thoughtfully, reaching over to poke at the side of his face plate.

“Yes,” Bumblebee said in exasperation. “Maybe explain that to your twin. I…” his optics flicked over to Megatron for a fraction of a nano-klik and then turned back to the Terrans. “I do think that relentlessly chasing Starscream is just going to make him more likely to betray us, though. If he really has changed…”

“He hasn’t.” Megatron abruptly stated.

But if he has. Bumblebee insisted mentally alone. Instead, he just shrugged and did not pursue the subject further.

The conversation fizzled out as they continued on.

(:)

The command center was plenty big. It was the size of the ground floor of the dugout and covered with computers and chairs. They came in through a door on the back wall, where the floor was slightly elevated above the rest of the room. In the center of the elevated portion was a large seat. A throne.

Bumblebee knew who used to sit there.

Megatron pointedly did not look at it, headlights sweeping right over it as if it was just some bad hallucination.

Twitch hopped down the step to get to the rest of the floor, optics illuminating only the space right in front of her optics. Bumblebee really had to see about getting her and Thrash some proper light modifications.

“This is where the Decepticons launched all their evil schemes?” Thrash asked, enthralled as he ran his servos over the dusty terminals, sniffing at the air.

“We have got to get the lights working,” Megatron muttered as an aside to Bumblebee. “The security systems worked fine, so it should not be too complicated.”

“It’ll light our path back out, too.” Bumblebee agreed. “Lights are our priority, then. Terrans, start looking for a breaker box.”

He tried to remember if Nightshade had installed a breaker box in the dugout. He’d… probably have to review the necessary security functions carefully just to make sure everything was okay. He was pretty sure the typical human house had the same security measures in place as Cybertronian buildings.

Not that Bumblebee was particularly well-versed in infrastructure. Just the bottom line basics when he was partnered ever so briefly with some of the construction bots that were trying to maintain Iacon or the Spacebridge.

He could mention what little he knew to Nightshade later. After this mission was done, of course.

The twins jolted off immediately, scouring the walls, and mentally Bumblebee cheered that he wouldn’t have to tell them what it was. “Let one of us know if you find it,” he called, watching Twitch search the top half of the room for it while Thrash searched the bottom.

“What are you intending to do?” Megatron asked, expression slightly twisting when Bumblebee took a step backwards away from him.

“Sorry.” Bumblebee hissed, checking his systems. The room was completely stable, even as deep as it was underground. “I was thinking we could check the hallways. There might be… it’s probably not here with everything else, but checking all our bases…”

“Ah.” Megatron nodded. “Yes. I suppose that… makes sense. I suppose I’ve never paid attention to how our systems… work.”

Bumblebee didn’t doubt it. Gladiator until he turned into the leader of the Decepticons, Megatron didn’t spend a lot of time fiddling around with more… domestic means, Bumblebee supposed.

“Okay.” He said instead of anything else, turning away from the terminals to head through one of the other doors, four in total in the entire room. “Try the– the other one.”

Megatron nodded stiffly, raising his voice for the Terrans’ sake. “Little sparklings, your mentor and I will be back momentarily. Keep looking.”

“Yup yup yup,” Thrash blubbered in return, not even turning around. Twitch barely gave a nod back, herself.

Bumblebee stepped into the hall, not letting himself think about how he was leaving Megatron alone – albeit for a few seconds before the warlord passed through his own door – with the Terrans. They had made a deal, and that meant, no matter how much Bumblebee wanted to forget it, he had to honor it.

If Megatron was making an effort to not trigger Bumblebee, then the least he could do was not be triggered, right? That was a fair trade.

He just had to honor it as such.

It took a few minutes of walking before Bumblebee located the breaker box. It was in a small room off to the side. The wall to the left was full of cleaning supplies, and the one to the right was empty, but straight ahead was the largest cabinet Bumblebee had ever seen.

Swinging it open, he found the entire wall was covered with switches, breakers, and fuses, small Cybertronian labels on each and every one. There was one for each room, each major terminal, and even one for emergency power.

Almost every breaker had been flipped at some point, an overcharge of energy, apparently. Carefully and systematically, each and every one was turned back into place.

Out of the hundred he flipped, only seven actually stayed on. The others snapped back into a blackout state within a second. None of the major fuses looked bad, only two or three of the smaller ones covered in rust.

Apparently, that was enough to cause problems.

Well, on one servo, slag. On the other servo, at least something was working.

One of the switches that worked was the general emergency power, the room and hallway behind him lighting up in a sinister red glow.

Good enough.

Bumblebee rushed back to the Terrans, bursting into the room.

Twitch’s helm snapped up at the rough entrance, frowning immediately. “What happened? Is something wrong? Is it one of those Cybertronian-eating monsters?”

“No, no, nothing like that!” Bumblebee shook his helm. “I just– wanted to make sure you two were doing okay.”

“We’re doing great!” Twitch chirped, pointing up at the lights. “Did you do this?”

“Uh, yeah. It’s not a perfect solution, but it’ll work for the time being.” Bumblebee told her. As Megatron came out of his own hallway at a much slower trot, Bumblebee attempted to casually shift to the side so that he could keep all three in his path of vision at once. “There doesn’t look to be anything necessarily wrong with the breaker box. It’s probably a busted wire or something.”

“Hmm. We may have to search the entire system until we find the error, and neither of us are trained in that kind of work…” Megatron muttered, frowning. “Was there anything else you were able to get working?”

“Uh. Cafeteria was the big one.” Bumblebee offered meekly. “And infirmary, but I think– I think that’s just standard practice that if everything else breaks, at least the infirmary will be fine.”

“I suppose that would make sense.” Megatron nodded. “Very well. I suppose, now that we have a good enough lighting source, we can pick and choose our next directive.”

“We’ll need power eventually.” Bumblebee muttered. “Might be a good idea to focus on restoring that, first. We won’t know whether the terminals are in working order or not without it.”

“How far away is the power room?” Twitch asked curiously. “I don’t want to spend a whole day walking again. This base is so big! How did you get anywhere in a timely manner?”

“I think it’s called a reactor.” Bumblebee corrected quietly, but frankly, he himself wasn’t even sure.

“When the ground wasn’t falling apart and we did not have to scan every quarter groon,” Megatron scoffed, rolling his optics as if the idea that the base was decaying under their pedes was preposterous, “then it took less than a groon to get from one side to the other. Especially because we could transform. The hallways are big, in case you haven’t noticed. Plenty of room for multiple vehicles to be driving at once.”

“Oooh, that makes sense!” Twitch chirped. “Think it’s bigger or smaller than the caves under Witwicky?”

“Hmm. It’s likely around the same size.” Megatron said thoughtfully. “Maybe a bit bigger, but not with nearly so many levels. It is only two floors.”

“Much smaller than G.H.O.S.T. H.Q., let me tell ya,” Bumblebee murmured to himself. He remembered going to battle against the Decepticons, looking between their meager, rag-tag group of Autobots, and then the much bigger army in front of them.

Of course the Decepticons’ base had been so much bigger when they had so much support backing them.

“Yeah, but how far away is it now?” Thrash asked, a tinge of frustration to his tone. “Twitch is right. I don’t exactly want to be wandering around for ages.”

“It should be–” Megatron paused, trailing off. His optic ridges pinched together. “Well. It shouldn’t be too far. Little scout, where–”

Bumblebee shook his helm quickly, cutting off the question. “Little scout” burned in his audials like a curse. “I have no clue. I never– I infiltrated bases on Cybertron not– And even then I wasn’t looking for– I’m…”

He cut himself off with a shake of his helm, trying to find a smile for the Terrans. “Hey, we’ll turn it into a game! Treasure hunting, yeah?”

Twitch and Thrash glanced at each other awkwardly.

“I don’t know, Bee,” Thrash said slowly. “It doesn’t sound as fun as you’re trying to make it sound, I think.

“No, no!” Bumblebee promised. “It will be, you know, we–”

“We can divide into teams!” Twitch said in delight, and Bumblebee swore she could see the gears turning in her processor. “Me against Thrash! We’ll both look for the reactor, and the first one who finds it gets a week off of our “forever grounded” sentence!”

That snapped Bumblebee out of his tumultuous funk. “What? No, absolutely not! You’re both still grounded forever, but we’ll… You know how we said we’d go on a road trip in the summer? You get to choose the place we go to first. I’ll talk to Alex and Dot about it and everything.”

The twins pouted up at him, but with a thoughtful glance at each other, they finally conceded with a nod.

“Fine,” Thrash declared. “Twitch, you’re going down.”

“Nuh-uh!” Twitch stuck out her glossa at him. “Me and Megatron are going to mop the floor with you and Bee!”

Thrash gasped. “Wait, how come you get the first pick?!”

The– Wait, what?

“Hold– Hold on now,” Bumblebee spluttered, holding up his servos towards the Terrans. “Absolutely not! We’re not doing that! You can’t–”

“What?” Twitch asked innocently, like she didn’t know what she was doing. Honestly, she probably didn’t know. She had no clue that Bumblebee’s spark was uneasily flaring within his chassis, horrified over the idea that one of them would be alone with Megatron while he couldn’t reach them, couldn’t protect them.

If she did know, that was a folly on Bumblebee’s part, because he… he was supposed to be able to protect them, wasn’t he?

“Twitch literally said we’d be on opposite teams,” Thrash agreed, scoffing at Bumblebee. “Don’t tell me you weren’t paying attention to that part! That’s what makes it, uh, fun.”

“Right,” Bumblebee muttered to himself, twisting his gaze away to stare at one of the lifeless terminals. “Right, right, dividing into teams.”

“Twitch would be safe with me.” Megatron said quietly, stepping in so close to Bumblebee that he felt his plating start firing on all cylinders, nervous anticipation coursing through him. “You have nothing to worry about. You know this.”

“I know,” Bumblebee responded quickly. “I know, but I– Terrans, don’t you want to stick together? You’ve barely separated since Mandroid!”

Twitch and Thrash looked at each other for a moment, thoughtfully pondering. Then with a firm nod, they looked back up at Bumblebee, giving him two matching thumbs-up.

Bumblebee felt his spark sink in defeat. Staring down at the pleading optics underneath him, Bumblebee endured the feeling of his emergency protocols rattling against his HUD for a few nano-kliks longer. “Fine,” he finally surrendered, playing up his anxiety to avoid suspicion.

The delighted laughs the Terrans let out was a relaxing balm to his spark. Mission successful, but also…

Primus, he was fragged.

“Keep your radio on you,” Bumblebee told them urgently, watching them exchange the walkie-talkies between the two of them, fighting only briefly on who got the least scruffed-up one. “Comm each other if anything goes wrong or if you get separated from your partner. Don’t… Just stay safe, okay? Stay safe.”

That last part was mostly for Twitch, and he knew Megatron knew it, but at least the former warlord wasn’t scoffing…. loud enough for Bumblebee to hear.

“We’ll be okay, Bumblebee, really!” Twitch promised. “The only thing you’re going to have to worry about is us winning, and then you’ll have to agree that we’re the best team you’ve ever seen.”

Bumblebee nodded to himself, even as his spark constricted over and over. “You wish,” he teased, “but you’re going down. Megatron–?”

“We’ll keep our location on at all times,” Megatron reassured, expression perfectly neutral. “We’ll be just fine, Bumblebee.”

Of course they would. Of course.

Bumblebee believed that Megatron would never do a thing to hurt them.

“Right.” He said softly. “Well, um… ready, set, break, then, I guess.” He barely finished his sentence before Thrash was gripping his servo and tugging Bumblebee after him, overjoyed and delighted.

The only thing Bumblebee could do was follow after him and ignore Twitch pulling Megatron along on her side.

They would all be fine. He believed that. He did.

Chapter Text

“So,” Thrash asked excitedly, clutching onto Bumblebee’s gauntlet to stare at the screen with enticed curiosity. “Where do you think the reactor, power room, whatever, is?”

“Oh.” Bumblebee blinked. “I’m… not entirely sure.”

“Aw, what?” Thrash pouted, glancing up at him with a glimmer of disappointment. “Don’t tell me I chose the wrong guy to partner with! I’m looking for a quick, easy victory.”

“I’m almost flattered,” Bumblebee deadpanned, rolling his optics, “if you hadn’t just told me that you’re using me.”

“Come on, you don’t actually care that much, do you?” Thrash teased, blinking up at him with big, round optics that almost made Bumblebee laugh.

“No, Thrash,” Bumblebee teased, “I guess I don’t. But, trust me, I would bet my bottom shanix that I’m going to be better at finding stuff than Megatron is. He’s going to have to lean on your sister for this, and I haven’t taught her all I know.”

“Then you know something!” Thrash cried, tossing his weight backwards and shaking Bumblebee’s servo. “Please! You’ve got to tell me something!”

Bumblebee laughed at him, trying to avoid glancing over at where Megatron and Twitch had disappeared. He was doing his best not to be worried. Thrash wanted him right now. Not Twitch, not his parents, nobody else. Just Bumblebee.

And maybe that was because of the competition, but it made him happy to know that someone wanted him close.

“Okay, here’s a tip,” Bumblebee told him, pointing up. “See those cables across the ceiling?”

Thrash nodded eagerly.

“That’s our ticket. They usually hold a great deal of power, directed to somewhere important. Obviously there’s nothing running through it now, but it still connects the source to its destination.”

Recognition flickered in Thrash’s optics. He was a smart kid, after all. “So if we follow them, it’ll lead us to the reactor?”

“I bet so!” Bumblebee praised, holding out a servo to get a high-five, and Thrash eagerly gave it. “Can you tell what’s going to be the most complicated part of following them?”

Thrash’s expression furrowed for a nano-klik, looking up at the cables. “Uh… is it to know which direction to follow them? ‘Cause one direction is the source, and the other is the important… area?”

“Well done,” Bumblebee smiled at him. “There’s a way to tell which way it goes if you pry the cables open, but I’d rather not risk damage and, well. I don’t know what the trick is. I bet Wheeljack would, but eh. I’m no scientist or electrician.”

“Cool!” Thrash said, looking back and forth thoughtfully, studying both corridors. “So which way should we try first?”

Bumblebee joined him in staring down either hallway, dermas clenched as he tried to make a good estimate. What he wanted to do was follow after Twitch and Megatron, make sure nothing happened, making sure she was safe.

But, if they wanted to win, they should probably take the opposite corridor. Bumblebee just really did not care about that. Although he had been the one to think it up, splitting up had been the last thing on his processor. And now he was stuck trying to deal with the mess left behind.

Thrash came to a decision before he did. Predictably, he pointed down the far hallway, away from his sister and pseudo-uncle. “Let’s head over there. I bet it’s pretty far away, not so close to, you know. The command center.”

“You’re probably right,” Bumblebee delayed, gaze flickering back in the direction of the other party.

Thrash grunted, grabbing Bumblebee’s servo and started to drag him in the opposite direction. Bumblebee allowed it to happen, forcing himself to focus fully on the little bot in front of him. Reminding himself that Thrash was just as deserving as his attention, Bumblebee did his best to put Twitch out of his helm.

Distraction wouldn’t help any of them do anything.

“I bet we find it before they do,” Thrash goaded, jutting out his chin pridefully as they started to walk down the halls. “I bet they’ll be so busy walking around up here that they won’t even notice the cables. I bet Twitch doesn’t know to follow them!”

“Probably not, I don’t think I’ve ever told her about them,” Bumblebee agreed, thinking of the few times he and she had wound up in G.H.O.S.T..

He was decently positive that the first time, since they had Hashtag, he never gave her any tips or tricks for finding specific locations. When it came to the second time, Bumblebee didn’t have the slightest clue how they tracked him so far down. Schloder, maybe?

And then the last time, when the two fliers had gleefully rescued him from his prison, he thought that maybe Twitch must’ve found her own way over to him from memories that came from Hashtag. Either that, or maybe Nightshade was aware of the cable-tricks.

Primus, Nightshade was too smart for their age. Bumblebee hoped it was from enjoyment and not from necessity. Both seemed equally likely.

Either way, it didn’t matter much. If Twitch didn’t know, it gave them an advantage.

“How far away do you think it’ll be?” Thrash asked, practically skipping from the enthusiasm of it all. Bumblebee tried to absorb it like it was infectious. “Right around the corner? Another hour walk?”

“Eh, probably more like two or three,” Bumblebee teased. He shouldn’t have said it aloud, because almost immediately panic swept in and he cast a nervous glance backwards. “And then another… two or three back.”

“Ugh, don’t say that!” Thrash complained, not looking back at him. “I was hoping for just a quick adventure, not walking forever! Should’ve asked Twitch to stick with us–”

“It’s not too late to call this off,” Bumblebee offered, trying not to sound too desperate.

The look Thrash gave him was one of pure exasperation. “What is with you?” He scoffed, shaking his helm at Bumblebee. “This was your idea, remember? And you already gave us a prize! We can’t take it back now!”

“Well–” Bumblebee spluttered, “I know that, but I wasn’t expecting to– I didn’t mean for us to fully split up like this!”

“Yeah, but we were responsible. One adult with one kid, right?” Thrash pressed. “Wouldn’t it be worse if it was Twitch and me against you and Megatron? Especially since you two are fighting or whatever…”

“Right,” Bumblebee said distantly. “That would be worse.”

But would it really be? Thrash and Twitch would look after each other, no danger of stabbing one another in the backs. They’d guard one another against the horrors of the world, no issue. They wouldn’t delay if they noticed they got in over their finials, and they’d call.

Bumblebee saw no issue with them being alone, aside from the natural problem of two children being in an unstable base unsupervised. But sometimes bots were worse than the environment, and–

No. No.

Megatron was good. Bumblebee just had to keep reminding himself of that.

The warlord that had held him down as he ripped delicate wiring from his throat was gone. Now he was a soft mech who laughed at all of Optimus’ horrible jokes and held the Terrans with far more affection than seemed possible.

Megatron was best friends with Dot. Dot had given him permission to take the Terrans along on a mission they shouldn’t have been a part of, and it…

It didn’t sting. But it did all the same.

Besides, Megatron had made Bumblebee promise not to be so… bitter, which was only fair. Bumblebee’s duty was to the Terrans, to not overreact. He just wished it wasn’t so hard.

He wished that he could forgive everyone as easily as Optimus had. But he couldn’t, because he was horrible and just couldn’t wrap his processor around it.

Gah, everything was so frustrating all the time.

“You’re not acting like it’d be worse,” Thrash chimed up, ever the skeptic. “Like, I thought you and Megs weren’t getting along! You could at least act the part, you know!”

“I would rather the two of you had each other,” Bumblebee said simply. Besides, if Megatron was too busy with Bumblebee, he’d leave them– Primus. Focus, Bumblebee, focus. “Still surprised you two willingly split up after everything.”

“You know that that was mostly Twitch, right?” Thrash arched an optic ridge at him, skipping ahead a few steps and then doubling back in annoyance when Bumblebee trudged after. “Like, she’s the one who attached herself at my hip and wouldn’t let me go do anything.”

“It just shows she cares about you…”

“Yeah, sure,” Thrash scoffed. “Dude dies one time and suddenly his sister doesn’t let him out of her sight…”

“It can’t be that bad.” Bumblebee argued briefly, a smile tugging at his face. “I remember one time, after a bad mission, Ratchet had to practically weld me onto my berth to stop me from racing off. Honestly, he did that a lot. It was… annoying at the time, but it’s nice looking back on it. I miss him a lot.”

“I’m not you,” Thrash pointed out. “And if you all did your jobs right, then there’s no more war for me to worry about! Nothing’s going to take Twitch away from me!”

Megatron wouldn’t, but he could. “I hope not, Thrash. But life is… unpredictable, at best. My job is to protect you all and make sure nothing does happen.”

“Do you think we’re going to die here?” Thrash asked, sneaking a look up at Bumblebee, trying to act suave but betraying his age. “Is that why you were trying to keep us away from going on a real Autobot mission?

“Something like that.” Bumblebee said mildly. A wicked grin spread over his face, and he reached out to grab one of Thrash’s spokes and swept him up and into the air as Thrash squawked in surprise. “Also, you kids really shouldn’t be sneaking out at all! I don’t know where I went wrong!”

“Put me down!” Thrash demanded, kicking fruitlessly against Bumblebee, still suspended in midair as he tried to boost himself back to the ground.

Bumblebee refused to let go, grinning at the back of Thrash’s helm in amusement. “What is the magic word, Thrash?”

“Nope! I’m not saying it! Let me go! Let me go!” Thrash was helpless against him, Bumblebee’s grip tight despite his desperate struggling.

“If you paid attention during my lessons,” Bumblebee chided as he inspected the paint on his opposite servo, “this wouldn’t even be an issue. You’d already be gone and away!”

“Ughhh, is this all this is?” Thrash went limp with a pout, arms crossed. “Just another attempt at training me to fight better? I’ve got a shield! I’m just supposed to defend!”

“Even medics need to know self-defense!” Bumblebee chirped sweetly. “The best defense is a good offense!”

“Nooooooo…” Thrash whined. “This is why I wanted to go with Megatron!”

Frowning, Bumblebee set Thrash back down, feeling his spark curl into himself. “Hey…  That’s not…” Shaking his helm, the scout managed to get a hold on his emotions, finding the side of him that was all sarcasm and spunk. “You know that during the war all Megatron did was attack, right? That’s offense! He basically did no defending, but because we were always too busy trying to fight back, it left us unprotected.”

“And? He lost the war!”

Bumblebee set his jaw, looking away from him immediately.

No, Megatron won. Both because Cybertron was fully dead, and because he had conveniently joined sides just as the Autobots won. If he had only waited another three orbital-cycles, months, he would’ve been behind bars at the G.H.O.S.T. facility. But, he hadn’t. So he was on the winning side.

But, then again, they might not have even won without his help. If it wasn’t for Megatron, they might have not gotten far enough into Shockwave’s lab to get the Allspark back. They wouldn’t have been able to secure the spacebridge, or…

Primus.

They owed so much to him.

Megatron deserved so much more than stiff paranoia, didn’t he?

“Bee?” Thrash asked, and Bumblebee’s gaze trailed back over to the silver mech. “Sorry, are you good? I didn’t mean to like... Be mean to him, or whatever. Uh… to you?”

Bumblebee could’ve laughed. “No,” Bumblebee sighed, reaching down to rest his servo on top of Thrash’s. “You’re fine. That wasn’t… I just think you and I have different definitions of what “losing” looks like.”

“Oh, really?” Thrash teased, hurrying after him. “Blowing up the Allspark is winning?”

Bumblebee offered a snort. “Okay, good point. We all lost, then. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

Thrash’s enthusiastic nod was infectious, and Bumblebee found a small smile working its way onto his face, even though there was nothing happy about coming to the painful realization that everyone lost.

He had lost his voice, been torn apart, for nothing. No Autobot victory, not even a Decepticon victory. He had always known as much, deep down, but never did he dare voice it out loud.

Thrash didn’t understand the pain that brought him, and if Bumblebee had it his way, Thrash never would. Bumblebee didn’t like the idea of any of his kids having to face what he did. Logically, he knew they wouldn’t, both because there was no more war and because Megatron was their mother’s best friend.

It didn’t make the fact that Twitch was alone with him any easier, but… 

Bumblebee couldn’t keep expecting the worst. He had made a promise, after all, and he really didn’t want to break it.

(:)

A groon into their walk, Thrash’s walkie-talkie erupted with distortion and a tap of static. Both paused, attention switching down to stare at the affronting device in barely contained surprise and panic.

“Um,” Bumblebee said slowly. “It’s not supposed to do that.”

“No,” Thrash agreed, “no, I know, it’s not.” He held it up in front of them, and they both squinted down at Bumblebee’s smiling face. Gosh, the walkies would never not be weird…

And then Twitch’s voice exploded out of it. Bumblebee and Thrash both flinched back at the assault of noise, her tone high-pitched and excited, but she didn’t sound scared. She sounded… happy?

“Twitch,” Bumblebee said, reaching down to cup the walkie-talkie in his servo, stabilizing it as Thrash reached up to block his audials. “Twitch, slow down! You– Um.” he took the radio from Thrash, fumbling around with it for a nano-klik before finally finding the talk button. “Twitch?”

Her endless tirade came to a stop for a few nano-kliks, and then she burst out with full enthusiasm, ::“Hi, Bee! Hi, Thrash!”::

“Hi,” Thrash groaned, irritably taking it back. “Man, Twitch, you’re loud.”

::“Sorry!”:: She squeaked. ::“I’m just excited!”::

“What?” Thrash squeezed the walkie-talkie tightly in his grip. “Why?! Did you find the reactor? That’s so not fair!”

::“What? No, no, not yet!”:: She hastily reassured. ::“We’ve just been having such a good time! We’ve found so much cool stuff over here! There’s some drawings on the walls that some Decepticons left behind!”::

“Garfetti.” Bumblebee helpfully offered.

::“Right! Yeah! Graffiti! It’s really cool art work. I recognize so many Autobots that they drew! Did you know that the Decepticons were scared of them? Especially Optimus and Elita! They drew them all scary. Like monsters or something, with all these sharp teeth! It’s really funny, actually.”:: Twitch enthused.

“That’s great, Twitch,” Bumblebee said, shooting Thrash an apologetic look as he stole the walkie-talkie again. “And you’re safe? You’re alright?”

::“Just dandy!”::

“Is Megatron with you?”

::“Yes! He is! Funny thing, he didn’t think you’d actually want to talk to him because you don’t like him or something. Guess he was wrong, oh well! Here you go!”::

Before Bumblebee could protest, there was a tiny bit of crackling on the other end of the comms, before the noise cut out completely. Unable to seize the opportunity to start to panic, Bumblebee’s own spiral was cut off when Twitch’s voice came back a nano-klik later, softly whispering. ::“Here, you push this button and–”::

::“Yes, little bird, I am perfectly capable of operating a radio,”:: Megatron responded in exasperation, before his voice got close to the receiver and the whole thing practically shrieked with the force of the volume. ::“Hello?”::

“Back up!” Thrash practically yelled, servos pressed over his audials. “Primus, you’re so loud!”

“Thrash!” Bumblebee hissed in exasperation.

Thrash’s expression was nothing but pure innocence. “What’d I say?”

::“Ah– Yes, of course. Is this better?”:: Megatron inquired, drawing away from the receiver. 

“Much!” Thrash beamed. “Twitch says you’ve had no luck finding the reactor yet.”

::“If we had an angle,”:: Megatron’s tone was swept with amusement, sounding uncharacteristically soft, ::“then we would do well not to tell you of it.”::

“Boo, you’re no fun,” Thrash pouted. “Well, Bee and I have a couple clues that we’ve been following. I bet we find it way before you guys, do!”

“Wasn’t that already the bet?” Bumblebee teased, shuffling away a few steps from the communicator, as if that would prevent Thrash from shoving it into his servos if the Terran decided that was the right course of action.

“Well, yeah, but it goes double now!” Thrash scoffed, glowering up at him.

::“We have an angle, too,”:: Twitch grumbled, ::“but we just weren’t going to tell you! We have an air of mystique!”::

::“Indeed.”:: Megatron agreed. ::“The little bird is much more clever then I was expecting. I do believe we are on the best trail, considering the circumstances. We will find the reactor and claim victory.”::

Megatron sounding competitive over anything that wasn't a war still rubbed Bumblebee the wrong way, and he winced, choosing instead to study the cables above them. 

“Why are you guys even calling if you don’t have the reactor?” Thrash demanded, pulling out a disgusted look as he looked between the radio and Bumblebee’s actual face. “Did something go wrong? Because if it didn’t, Bee said it’s radio silence only!”

“I did not say that.” Bumblebee deadpanned. “When did I ever say that.”

::“It was Megatron’s idea, actually!”:: Twitch said brightly. ::“He thought it would be a good idea if we did frequent check-ins! He said that if something happened, we would be able to find each other if we knew an approximate location!”::

Bumblebee knew it was more of for his own spiking anxiety then it was for caution. Not that he could complain, nor could he call it "surprisingly thoughtful” of Megatron. It was only surprising because Bumblebee had the worst-case scenarios endlessly on loop in his processor. To anyone else, who actually knew and cared about Megatron, it was likely standard.

All Bumblebee had heard, after all, over and over again was how well Megatron treated his friends. He may not have been loyal to them before the war, but he certainly was now.

There was no other reason Dot and Optimus would adore him so well and deeply.

“Thanks, Megatron.” Bumblebee said slowly, careful to keep his tone light despite the circumstance. “That’s… really thoughtful of you.”

::“Of course,”:: the elder rumbled, tone twisting with pleasure that he had been acknowledged. ::“I did not want to cause any anxiety on your end.”::

Frag it. Why did Megatron have to make being suspicious of him so hard? Why did he have to make Bumblebee feel bad for being scared of him? He felt bad enough as it was.

“Okay, is that it?” Thrash demanded impatiently. “Bee and I have to get back to winning.”

::“That was it!”:: Twitch reassured. ::“You can go back to losing now!”::

A scoff and a hiss greeted her, and then she shut off her end of the radio, the consitant static fading into silence. Thrash glared at the walkie for a few more nano-kliks and then tucked it away, glaring up at Bumblebee. “Can you believe her?”

“Shockingly,” Bumblebee deadpanned, “I can. We should probably get going if we actually want to win. Come on.”

“Do you think they were telling the truth?” Thrash asked, stumbling after Bumblebee. “Do you think they’re getting close to the reactor?”

Bumblebee shook his helm. “I have no clue, but I guess we’ll find out.” Glancing over his shoulder, Bumblebee studied the hallway behind them. He hadn’t heard Twitch or Megatron during their loud conversation, but…

“Hey!” He called, voice bouncing off the walls and coming back.

Startling and pressing his servos to his audials, Thrash glowered up at him. “What was that for?!”

“Okay, I’ll admit, I’ve told Twitch about the cable trick before. While we were sneaking out of G.H.O.S.T. once it came up.” Bumblebee shyly confessed. “So she’s probably following them, too. But I bet they wound up going in the opposite direction as us, though.”

“That’s still split 50/50,” Thrash complained. “They might find it before us after all! That’s stupid. I hate that.”

“I never promised a sure victory.” Bumblebee shrugged. “But if you were paired with Megatron, you wouldn’t know about it, would you? Look, I’m offering a good teaching opportunity while we’re walking! Next time you’ll be able to beat your sister for sure.”

“I hate you,” groused Thrash, “you’re the worst.”

Maybe. Maybe Bumblebee was. But that wouldn’t stop him from waving Thrash on and encouraging him to keep going.

Hopefully they’d find the reactor soon so they could all reunite again.

(:)

Ultimately the cables ended up leading to a closed door, and Thrash immediately brought out his shield to jam between the seams.

Bumblebee watched him struggle with them for a few nano-kliks, amusement pooling up within his tanks. “Woah, Thrash.” He teased. “Why don’t you let me blast the doors open?”

“And risk blowing up the reactor?” Thrash fired right back. “Thanks, but no thanks, I’m doing– There!” The door slid open with one final wiggle, just wide enough for Thrash to slip through.

Bumblebee pushed it open the rest of the way, following Thrash in and staring at the dark room, filled with machinery illuminated only by his headlights. The thin layer of rust and dust made everything look ancient, unused for multiple stellar-cycles.

The cables were all directed into one center console, which every other machine was plugged into in some way or another. Great. They had to find out which was malfunctioning, if it was just one or all of them, and work from there.

It would be a lot of work, and even with Twitch and Megatron three groons away, by the time they arrived, it was unlikely that Bumblebee would be done with repairs, especially since he barely knew what he was doing.

Ugh, why couldn’t he have just brought Wheeljack along? That bot knew how to get an oil can to turn on.

“Where do we begin? Just connect a few wires, jumpstart the power source? Quick, do you have jumper cables?”

“And sacrifice our own sparks to get them to power on? Yeah, no.” Bumblebee scoffed. “I’m sure there’s some kind of perpetual motion machine that generates energy, or maybe a hand crank… once we get that started again, the rest should turn on, but we have to figure out if anything’s broken first so it doesn’t explode in our faces.”

“That doesn’t sound fun,” Thrash grumbled, turning to go to the far left one to start checking it over.

Bumblebee would have to double-check his work, uncertain how much Thrash actually knew about engineering, but at least he could rest assured the Terran would call out to him if anything looked immediately suspicious.

“Hey.” Bumblebee suggested, turning to the far right one instead. “Why don’t you call your sister and Megatron and let them know the good news? The B-and-T team has done it again!”

“Good plan,” Thrash agreed, snapping his fingers and pointing at Bumblebee. “I’ll let them know!”

As Bumblebee pulled off the rear panel, slowly working through the wires and making sure every connection was tightly in place, Thrash pulled out the walkie. Bumblebee did his best not to directly eavesdrop, but he had to admit that every time Megatron’s voice echoed over the line, he perked up a little bit, intent on listening and making sure the warlord wasn’t threatening his kids.

Obviously, obviously, Megatron wasn’t.

He was just asking how they found the reactor, if there were any supplies he should keep an optic out for as they made their way over, comforting Twitch when she huffed and said they would’ve found it eventually, and… He was just being kind.

Ugh. Ugh, Bumblebee had issues. The Terrans deserved so much better than tight shoulders and suspicious stares. They deserved him being able to set a good example, being a good mentor.

He was halfway glad the triplets weren’t here to see his blunder. Sure, they were only a few months younger than Twitch and Thrash, and Hashtag was great at seeing the nuisance of certain situations, but they… Bumblebee wasn’t sure they’d even attempt to see his side. Especially when up against their mother’s best friend.

“Twitch says “hi”!” Thrash called over to Bumblebee.

“Hi, Twitch.” Bumblebee responded, finding a loose wire and starting the tedious process of finding the right connection point to plug it back in.

“Bumblebee says “hi”.” Thrash told Twitch. “He’s busy trying to repair one of the things here. It’s taking him a while to get to, honestly.”

“Don’t drain the battery of your walkie,” Bumblebee called, rolling his optics when Twitch giggled over the comm. “I don’t know what their charge is at, and I’d rather not run it fully out before we reunite.”

“Ugh, fine,” Thrash scoffed right back. “You’re so bossy.”

Maybe, and Bumblebee was good with that. Better be bossy and safe then lenient and lose track of both Twitch and Megatron.

Still, Thrash obediently shut off the walkie and came over to check to see what Bumblebee was doing. Bumblebee adjusted so that Thrash could sit between him and the machine, watching him fiddle with the wires and attempt to reconnect.

Small servos were ideal, because Thrash easily found the wire and took it from Bumblebee so he could reach far enough back to plug it into place.

One wire down, who knew how many more to go.

(:)

Twitch broke into the room over three groons later, switching from drone mode to her own pedes as she landed on the ground, dusting herself off. “We have arrived!”

““We”?” Thrash demanded, peering past her. “I don’t see Megatron anywhere!”

“He’s coming, he’s coming.” She reassured me. “He’ll be here in a minute! When I saw the open door I went ahead, but he’s– He’s here! See? I didn’t abandon him!”

Megatron stepped into the room behind her, squinting at the terminals as his own headlights lit them up. “Hmm. It is less damaged than I thought. I am relieved. This should not be too much work.”

Bumblebee nodded quietly, ignoring that Megatron was standing between the open door and the Terrans. This was stupid. All Megatron had done over this trip was be absurdly helpful, and the only thing Bumblebee could do was throw it back in his face.

Megatron didn’t deserve that.

“I’ve got a few terminals left.” Bumblebee said, pointing at the ones on the left. “Thrash has started working on some, but I’d like them double-checked. Maybe my own, too. Just… just in case I missed something.”

“Of course.” Megatron agreed, approaching to kneel beside the terminal, tucking his servos through the open panels to begin sorting as well. “Should we be worried about the rust?”

“I’m trying not to be.” Bumblebee admitted. “There’s not much we can do about it anyway unless we find a bot’s buff-and-polish kits.”

“That does seem unlikely,” Megatron mildly agreed. “Well, in that case this should be rather straightforward. Have you found what activates the machines?”

“I think I saw a rotor or something in that one,” Bumblebee said, pointing towards the middle one. “But I haven’t got any clue other than that.”

Megatron nodded, letting the silence fall.

Bumblebee was grateful for that, turning his helm enough that he could pretend Megatron wasn’t back in the room with them. Twitch had already approached her brother, peering over his shoulder to see what he was doing.

She joined him a nano-klik later in reconnecting wires and inspecting to see how frayed they were. If simple repairs didn’t cut it, then they’d have to go through and start replacing wires.

Bumblebee wasn’t sure where they’d get the replacement parts, but there had to be something in this base that was useful in that regard.

Some bot, somewhere, had to have something. Either that, or they’d dig through the walls until they found some good ones and hoped they weren’t plugged into anything important. But that was a last resort. Right now, the important thing was to fix what they could and worry about the rest later.

Hopefully, they’d wrap up their mission quicker then he thought they would and they could all go home and go their separate ways.

But looking at the current state of the machinery, Bumblebee found that it didn’t feel likely.

“Did you see anything interesting while out there?” Thrash demanded curiously, thumping his helm against her shoulder. “Because all Bee and I did was walk around for a while, and wow. Who knew exploring an old Decepticon base could be so boring?”

“No,” Twitch admitted mildly. “Some of the cables were leading to one room that Megatron said was Shockwave’s lab…”

Shockwave had a lab here? Bumblebee shouldn’t be surprised. Just… hopeful that Shockwave had some leftover parts if they needed them later. If anyone had the equipment to repair the finer details of the reactor and command center, it’d be him.

As if reading his processor, Megatron lifted his helm. “If our first attempts do not work, I can go search his quarters for something useful in the morning.”

Bumblebee checked his chronometer. Megatron was right; with the rate repairs were going, they wouldn’t be able to send him out before the night swept in. He’d have to bear one more watch before he could keep the Terrans close to his spark without Megatron around.

That was fine. He’d wait it out.