What Comes - Movieverse oneshot
Disclaimer: do not own Transformers.
Summary: Movieverse, oneshot. Sam, Bumblebee, and a talk of souls and beginning’s end.
Rating: K+
What Comes
While waiting for someone, or passing time, or getting away from it all, Sam would find himself overlooking some hill or cliff or something, looking out into the sky, in Bumblebee’s driver seat. The seat would be reclined, his hand would be hanging out the open window, and they would talk about what could only be described as ‘stuff.’
Like the time Bumblebee was preparing Sam for Sunstreaker’s arrival.
As Bumblebee put it: “And Mr. Fluffy was never heard from again.”
And then there was that conversation about the marvelous misadventures of Wheeljack.
As Bumblebee put it: “At least now you know that his work room always looks like that.”
And then there was that highly uncomfortable conversation about that thing they really wished they hadn’t brought up.
As Sam put it: “We shall never speak of this again.”
Today, it was about:
“…and that’s where sparks end up,” Bumblebee finished.
“So, basically…” Sam said. “You guys proved that you have souls? And then you tracked down these souls to an actual afterlife?”
“…Sort of? I thought I was being clear…”
“I’m sorry, ‘Bee,” Sam said, laughing a bit. “The fact that you guys managed to track down robot heaven is just incredible. As Miles would say: is there no end to your awesome?”
“Well, it is awesome,” Bumblebee said cheerfully. “Even if it is a bit hazy on the details. We know that we go somewhere, though. If you want the particulars, Perceptor was on the research team tracking down where sparks went after they faded. You could go ask him.”
“Ask Percy? Hell, no. ‘Bee, I think I kinda developed a Pavlov’s dog reaction to him, or something, but instead of salivating to the sound of a bell, I get a headache with Percy’s trademark, ‘Well, actually.’ Or even better, his, ‘It’s really very simple, young Witwicky.’”
Bumblebee laughed at Sam’s deliberately poor impression of Perceptor. Recovering himself, he said, “It’d be an interesting conversation, though. And who knows, maybe Perceptor would become inspired to find scientific evidence for a human soul.”
“Well, the thing is, Bumblebee, I’m not sure if there’s anything to find, you know? I mean, humans aren’t like you guys, with souls going ‘Oh, hi there,’ in the middle of spark chambers…” Sam trailed off. He meant it as a throwaway comment, and was a little confused at Bumblebee’s silence.
“You don’t believe that you have a soul?” Bumblebee asked. Suddenly the tone of their conversation changed, and Sam wasn’t quite sure how to deal with it.
“Um, well, sometimes,” Sam said haltingly. “Sometimes, I think that all that ‘soul-feelings,’ or whatever it is that people write about in books, are just your brain reacting to something by dumping a bunch of stuff in your blood. Maybe all we are-humans, that is-are a bunch of naked monkeys that got so smart that we got too high on ourselves and started making up stuff like ‘soul,’ and ‘afterlife,’ while doing some really stupid shit.”
“So then,” Bumblebee said slowly. “Following that logic, you think that the end is…the end?”
“Um, yeah, I guess,” Sam said, partly wondering why he wasn’t caving with a ‘just joking’ to make Bumblebee happy again. Maybe it was just because he always had a little trouble lying to him. “I mean, it’s not like I can have an afterlife if I have no soul to go there, you know?”
“But then…how will my spark find yours?” Bumblebee’s voice was so small, so much like that of a lost child that Sam rushed to say,
“But then there are other times. Times when everything just feels right, and you feel connected to someone or something or someplace or to any other stuff that matters, and the thing that you feel, you get to thinking, can’t just come from a bunch of stuff happening in your head. Then I think: there has to be more to me than just this, you know?”
There was that silence again, but the tension lifted with Bumblebee’s next words. “I like your second theory better.”
Sam leaned back in his seat. “Yeah, I think I do, too.” Leading the conversation to a slightly different direction, he said, “For argument’s sake, let’s say I do have a soul.”
“You do.”
Bumblebee said it with such conviction that Sam asked, “What makes you say that?”
Just gotta have a little bit of faith, sang a voice from Bumblebee’s speakers.
“Stop it.”
Bumblebee cheerfully increased the volume before abruptly cutting off the song.
Sam sighed. “Honestly, ‘Bee. Sometimes I’m not sure which of us is older.”
You know you love me, came a child’s voice from Bumblebee’s radio.
This time, Sam thwacked Bumblebee’s steering wheel. “But, seriously, ‘Bee,” he said. “Let’s say that we’re both nice enough guys to end up in the good place.
“Technically, all sparks end up in the same ‘place,’ I guess you could call it,” Bumblebee pointed out. “Though what happens there is still a big mystery.”
Sam waved his hand dismissively. “Not the point, ‘Bee.”
“And as for the both of us being nice enough…also quite a big ‘if’ you have going there.”
“Again, not the point, ‘Bee.” Sam sighed. Looking outside, he said almost absently, “Are there other souls, or sparks, in that place that you guys found?”
“We haven’t found any,” Bumblebee admitted. “As far as we know, the only inhabitants of that dimension are Cybertronian in origin. Why?”
“Because, if we don’t end up in the same good place, that’d really suck. I don’t think…I mean, it wouldn’t be heaven without you.” Sam’s eyes widened in realization of what he just said, and he gave a rueful chuckle. “Damn, that was so lame…”
“It wasn’t lame, Sam,” Bumblebee said firmly. With his voice a little more troubled, he continued with, “I don’t know why I’ve never thought of that…”
“I mean, for all we know, human souls end up going to a different dimension altogether, and that’s not covering the possibility of reincarnation,” Sam continued. He blinked in confusion upon finally noticing that Bumblebee was ‘rocking on his wheels,’ going a bit backwards, and a bit forwards, as he was prone to do when worried. “’Bee?” he asked. “What did I say?”
“Well, Sam,” Bumblebee began sarcastically. “I don’t know why I wouldn’t be just a liiittle bit stressed out at the fact that, at beginning’s end I might, you know, never see you again.”
“Oh,” Sam said quietly. In that gentle awkwardness that Sam sometimes had, he brushed the insignia on Bumblebee’s steering wheel. “Well, ‘Bee, not even being separated by a dimension or two is going to separate us.” He groaned, and the top of Bumblebee’s steering wheel met his forehead. “Lame again,” he muttered. “I really got to stop spouting stuff that sounds like it’s been ripped off from some romance novel.”
Aw, I love you, too! came a voice from Bumblebee’s speakers.
Sam settled back in his seat and gave Bumblebee’s steering wheel another half-hearted thwack.
“Sam,” Bumblebee said, almost tentatively. “If we were both standing at the entrance of ‘my’ Hereafter, and you were not allowed inside, I would not go in, either.”
“Aw,” Sam said, only half-teasing. “I love you, too.”
They lapsed into silence again, broken when Sam said, “Well, even if we do get separated, while I’m waiting for you to barge into human-heaven, or while you’re waiting for me to sneak into Autobot-heaven-“
“Shall I point out the foolishness of having both plans occurring together?”
“We’ll coordinate later,” Sam said dismissively. “You, me, Mikaela, even Wheelie…we’ll figure out something. Just saying, that while we’re waiting, we’ll figure out how to make contact. Like smoke signals, or telepathy…or picking up a phone. Granted, our inter-dimensional long-distance bills would be sky-high.”
“What makes you think there’ll be bills?”
“Well, you know the saying, there’s only two absolutes in life: death and bills. So my conclusion is that, when you’re in the afterlife, you’d only have bills.”
“I thought the second thing was taxes?”
“Whatever.”
Gradually, their conversation and banter turned to different things (as Sam put it: “Just don’t do it. You can ask Wheelie why.”) and the moonrise came, closing yet another day that neither Sam nor Bumblebee had realized had passed so quickly.
There were times that Sam thought that humans didn’t have souls, times when people were too cruel and spiteful and selfish and just plain too foolish…
But under that sky…when everything just felt right, and the connection between the two resonated with something that Sam couldn’t even begin to describe, like there was a light inside each of them, singing to each other… at least for that one joyous moment…
…the only thing to do was to believe.
Summary: Movieverse, oneshot. Sam, Bumblebee, and a talk of souls and beginning’s end.
Rating: K+
What Comes
While waiting for someone, or passing time, or getting away from it all, Sam would find himself overlooking some hill or cliff or something, looking out into the sky, in Bumblebee’s driver seat. The seat would be reclined, his hand would be hanging out the open window, and they would talk about what could only be described as ‘stuff.’
Like the time Bumblebee was preparing Sam for Sunstreaker’s arrival.
As Bumblebee put it: “And Mr. Fluffy was never heard from again.”
And then there was that conversation about the marvelous misadventures of Wheeljack.
As Bumblebee put it: “At least now you know that his work room always looks like that.”
And then there was that highly uncomfortable conversation about that thing they really wished they hadn’t brought up.
As Sam put it: “We shall never speak of this again.”
Today, it was about:
“…and that’s where sparks end up,” Bumblebee finished.
“So, basically…” Sam said. “You guys proved that you have souls? And then you tracked down these souls to an actual afterlife?”
“…Sort of? I thought I was being clear…”
“I’m sorry, ‘Bee,” Sam said, laughing a bit. “The fact that you guys managed to track down robot heaven is just incredible. As Miles would say: is there no end to your awesome?”
“Well, it is awesome,” Bumblebee said cheerfully. “Even if it is a bit hazy on the details. We know that we go somewhere, though. If you want the particulars, Perceptor was on the research team tracking down where sparks went after they faded. You could go ask him.”
“Ask Percy? Hell, no. ‘Bee, I think I kinda developed a Pavlov’s dog reaction to him, or something, but instead of salivating to the sound of a bell, I get a headache with Percy’s trademark, ‘Well, actually.’ Or even better, his, ‘It’s really very simple, young Witwicky.’”
Bumblebee laughed at Sam’s deliberately poor impression of Perceptor. Recovering himself, he said, “It’d be an interesting conversation, though. And who knows, maybe Perceptor would become inspired to find scientific evidence for a human soul.”
“Well, the thing is, Bumblebee, I’m not sure if there’s anything to find, you know? I mean, humans aren’t like you guys, with souls going ‘Oh, hi there,’ in the middle of spark chambers…” Sam trailed off. He meant it as a throwaway comment, and was a little confused at Bumblebee’s silence.
“You don’t believe that you have a soul?” Bumblebee asked. Suddenly the tone of their conversation changed, and Sam wasn’t quite sure how to deal with it.
“Um, well, sometimes,” Sam said haltingly. “Sometimes, I think that all that ‘soul-feelings,’ or whatever it is that people write about in books, are just your brain reacting to something by dumping a bunch of stuff in your blood. Maybe all we are-humans, that is-are a bunch of naked monkeys that got so smart that we got too high on ourselves and started making up stuff like ‘soul,’ and ‘afterlife,’ while doing some really stupid shit.”
“So then,” Bumblebee said slowly. “Following that logic, you think that the end is…the end?”
“Um, yeah, I guess,” Sam said, partly wondering why he wasn’t caving with a ‘just joking’ to make Bumblebee happy again. Maybe it was just because he always had a little trouble lying to him. “I mean, it’s not like I can have an afterlife if I have no soul to go there, you know?”
“But then…how will my spark find yours?” Bumblebee’s voice was so small, so much like that of a lost child that Sam rushed to say,
“But then there are other times. Times when everything just feels right, and you feel connected to someone or something or someplace or to any other stuff that matters, and the thing that you feel, you get to thinking, can’t just come from a bunch of stuff happening in your head. Then I think: there has to be more to me than just this, you know?”
There was that silence again, but the tension lifted with Bumblebee’s next words. “I like your second theory better.”
Sam leaned back in his seat. “Yeah, I think I do, too.” Leading the conversation to a slightly different direction, he said, “For argument’s sake, let’s say I do have a soul.”
“You do.”
Bumblebee said it with such conviction that Sam asked, “What makes you say that?”
Just gotta have a little bit of faith, sang a voice from Bumblebee’s speakers.
“Stop it.”
Bumblebee cheerfully increased the volume before abruptly cutting off the song.
Sam sighed. “Honestly, ‘Bee. Sometimes I’m not sure which of us is older.”
You know you love me, came a child’s voice from Bumblebee’s radio.
This time, Sam thwacked Bumblebee’s steering wheel. “But, seriously, ‘Bee,” he said. “Let’s say that we’re both nice enough guys to end up in the good place.
“Technically, all sparks end up in the same ‘place,’ I guess you could call it,” Bumblebee pointed out. “Though what happens there is still a big mystery.”
Sam waved his hand dismissively. “Not the point, ‘Bee.”
“And as for the both of us being nice enough…also quite a big ‘if’ you have going there.”
“Again, not the point, ‘Bee.” Sam sighed. Looking outside, he said almost absently, “Are there other souls, or sparks, in that place that you guys found?”
“We haven’t found any,” Bumblebee admitted. “As far as we know, the only inhabitants of that dimension are Cybertronian in origin. Why?”
“Because, if we don’t end up in the same good place, that’d really suck. I don’t think…I mean, it wouldn’t be heaven without you.” Sam’s eyes widened in realization of what he just said, and he gave a rueful chuckle. “Damn, that was so lame…”
“It wasn’t lame, Sam,” Bumblebee said firmly. With his voice a little more troubled, he continued with, “I don’t know why I’ve never thought of that…”
“I mean, for all we know, human souls end up going to a different dimension altogether, and that’s not covering the possibility of reincarnation,” Sam continued. He blinked in confusion upon finally noticing that Bumblebee was ‘rocking on his wheels,’ going a bit backwards, and a bit forwards, as he was prone to do when worried. “’Bee?” he asked. “What did I say?”
“Well, Sam,” Bumblebee began sarcastically. “I don’t know why I wouldn’t be just a liiittle bit stressed out at the fact that, at beginning’s end I might, you know, never see you again.”
“Oh,” Sam said quietly. In that gentle awkwardness that Sam sometimes had, he brushed the insignia on Bumblebee’s steering wheel. “Well, ‘Bee, not even being separated by a dimension or two is going to separate us.” He groaned, and the top of Bumblebee’s steering wheel met his forehead. “Lame again,” he muttered. “I really got to stop spouting stuff that sounds like it’s been ripped off from some romance novel.”
Aw, I love you, too! came a voice from Bumblebee’s speakers.
Sam settled back in his seat and gave Bumblebee’s steering wheel another half-hearted thwack.
“Sam,” Bumblebee said, almost tentatively. “If we were both standing at the entrance of ‘my’ Hereafter, and you were not allowed inside, I would not go in, either.”
“Aw,” Sam said, only half-teasing. “I love you, too.”
They lapsed into silence again, broken when Sam said, “Well, even if we do get separated, while I’m waiting for you to barge into human-heaven, or while you’re waiting for me to sneak into Autobot-heaven-“
“Shall I point out the foolishness of having both plans occurring together?”
“We’ll coordinate later,” Sam said dismissively. “You, me, Mikaela, even Wheelie…we’ll figure out something. Just saying, that while we’re waiting, we’ll figure out how to make contact. Like smoke signals, or telepathy…or picking up a phone. Granted, our inter-dimensional long-distance bills would be sky-high.”
“What makes you think there’ll be bills?”
“Well, you know the saying, there’s only two absolutes in life: death and bills. So my conclusion is that, when you’re in the afterlife, you’d only have bills.”
“I thought the second thing was taxes?”
“Whatever.”
Gradually, their conversation and banter turned to different things (as Sam put it: “Just don’t do it. You can ask Wheelie why.”) and the moonrise came, closing yet another day that neither Sam nor Bumblebee had realized had passed so quickly.
There were times that Sam thought that humans didn’t have souls, times when people were too cruel and spiteful and selfish and just plain too foolish…
But under that sky…when everything just felt right, and the connection between the two resonated with something that Sam couldn’t even begin to describe, like there was a light inside each of them, singing to each other… at least for that one joyous moment…
…the only thing to do was to believe.