Fic: A Universal Concept - Chapter 18
Title: A Universal Concept - Chapter 18
Verse: Post 2007 Movie, AU
Rating: Mature
Pairings: Jazz/Maggie Madsen, Ironhide/Sarah Lennox/Will Lennox, Prime/Ratchet, Bumblebee/Sam, Barricade/Mikaela
Summary: What is love? Is it an instinct? An emotion? Or an ability that can transcend species? After eons of conflict, the war-weary Autobots have a new home, a new life, and a chance for something more. And for a single Decepticon, a chance for salvation.
Warnings: NSFW Mech/human sexual situations.
Disclaimer: I own nothing, Hasbro has it all.
( Prologue )( Chapter One )( Chapter Two )( Chapter Three )( Chapter Four )( Chapter Five )( Chapter Six )( Chapter Seven )( Chapter Eight )( Chapter Nine )( Chapter Ten )( Chapter Eleven )( Chapter Twelve )( Chapter Thirteen )( Chapter Fourteen )( Chapter Fifteen )( Chapter Sixteen )( Chapter Seventeen )
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Notes:
:: Denotes comms
-------------- Denotes scene breaks
~*~*~*~*~*~ Denotes breaks within scenes
-----------------------------
~ Chapter 18 ~
“Ironhide, we are here to assist if needed.”
Fine, so he wasn’t here to blow a hole in Barricade. Didn’t mean he had to like it.
With Prime’s arm restraining him, Ironhide glared at the injured Decepticon, voicing his displeasure with a growl before pointedly setting his battle AI on high alert. Injured ‘Con or no, he was in charge of security and that was staying on.
Ratchet fretted and fiddled with the transformation sequence, Jazz was busy trying to coax something more than a snarl out of Barricade’s comm, and Prime did his sage observer thing, but until that scrap heap made a threatening move, Ironhide was superfluous.
Chafing at the inactivity he turned his attention to his charges. Here at least, he could be of some use. Sarah and Annabelle had three more hours in town before his return; lunch, something called a ‘Mommy and Me’ class, and then some shopping before requiring pickup. Ironhide had been reluctant to leave them, but they were there and the danger was here. Just as well they were safely in town for now.
His battle AI kicked up a notch as Barricade haltingly began to move. More a stagger than purposed. Ironhide pinged an acknowledgement detailing new parameters, and began looking over the latest data from Will Lennox. Skorponok’s trajectory had changed, the randomness shifting from roughly circular patterns with the Base as its center, to movements covering a 180 degree path and moving away.
The AI alerted him again. Prime had moved to face Barricade, offers of amnesty and safety were being ignored. Typical. Ironhide dismissed the alert and returned to studying the data. Guardian programming and instincts were going to war over the Captain’s intel. Skorponok’s movements still covered too much area to make the search teams effective, and its trajectory was leading the men further and further away from Base. The situation was beyond frustrating, and dangerous, and it was all Ironhide could do not to demand that Prime let him join his charge right now.
For at least the thousandth time since Lennox had deployed, the Guardian tapped into the security tag the human wore, reassuring himself with the steady biorhythms that Lennox was safe.
Focus ticked steadily higher; again his AI sounded an alert, and Ironhide absently acknowledged.
“Ratchet?” Prime’s helm tilted as Barricade snarled and backed away, stumbling around blindly to suddenly stopped in his tracks.
“Scanning now. We’re looking at visual, auditory, sensory, and processor damage at the very least, possibly severe.”
The AI finally got its master’s attention with a sudden shrilling of its battle alarm: FRONT AND CENTER, NOW!
Ironhide’s optics pinned, narrowed and assessing, every battle system snapped to high alert. There was something strange about the injured mech, something had changed. Slow steps instead of a stagger, his helm moved from side to side, movements efficient, controlled and purposeful.
Pattern established, tracking behavior confirmed.
The ‘Con was very nearly deaf, dumb and blind, what could he possibly be tracking? No, he couldn’t be, he was too damaged, but the AI was insisting its analysis was correct.
Cannons automatically powered on but he couldn’t fire, not at this range, the humans were too close.
Target acquired.
Targeting what?
Verify! Ironhide rapped out the demand. The AI was replying before the command completed.
Verified. Analysis of target acquisition estimated at 99.8% accuracy.
Frag.
The Decepticon froze, then made a sudden lunge, claws out and grasping.
Mikaela screamed and stumbled back. Jazz shouted a warning and scooped up Maggie. Ironhide snarled, both cannons aimed directly at the ‘Con, when Prime moved to intercept Barricade and a dayglow green blur barreled into Ironhide from the side.
“Don’t even think about it,” Ratchet snapped, jerking Ironhide's hands together and tugging them to his own chest. Ironhide heard the clicks of gears and cables in his arm as Ratchet braced himself, down to balancing his weight with a shift of his hips. The AI took care of the rest, cannons powering back down and a failsafe initiating to avoid friendly fire.
“Fine,” Ironhide grumbled, still in battle mode and seeing red even if his AI failed to concur.
Ratchet’s mouthplates twitched. “Didn’t think I knew about that failsafe, did you?”
“Smart aft.” Ironhide looked over Ratchet’s shoulder to see Prime holding Barricade down, one huge knee pressed into the center of the Decepticon’s back and one of the clawed hands twisted behind his back in an effective lock. Ironhide would have preferred a bit more weight and a little bit harsher, but it would do.
“Ratchet,” Optimus interrupted, deep tones a little shaken, “his field feels..” He paused, a myriad scenarios and calculations flying through processors, “...wrong. I can’t calm him, I can’t even reach him. How far did the purge get?”
“The sixty-four-thousand-dollar question,” Jazz muttered to Maggie, safely in arms.
“I don’t know. It may have been close to completion before I stopped it.” Ratchet’s field flickered against Ironhide, torn between allowing him time to stand down and going to his patient.
Maggie craned her neck to see past Prime. “Mikaela, are you ok?”
Mikaela was slowly climbing to her feet, a wary eye on the Decepticon. “Yeah, ok.” She backed further away from the large claws scrabbling in the dirt. The monster was still after her, still trying to get her.
A low whine stopped her. Barricade’s helm was moving, blind optics turning her way. A shiver, a flicker of sensation against her skin caught her by surprise.
Stay...
Want, need, overpowering. The same as in Medbay.
Only you.... please....
Not enticing now, not luring, this was a plea, a cry for help.
“Barricade?” Mikaela breathed, incredulous.
Ironhide gave Mikaela a long look, turned a sharper one on Barricade, watching the desperate flail and grapple, claws digging great furrows into the earth trying to reach her.
“Off.” He pushed Ratchet to the side as the medic hissed a warning, retracting his cannons to their smallest forms before approaching Prime and the fallen Decepticon. “I won’t hurt him.”
Swore to Primus I wouldn’t do this…
Ironhide knelt, field extending. Barricade’s helm turned, blind optics searching, beginning to struggle beneath Prime again.
Fear, panic, dread… little one… danger… GUARDIAN!
Ironhide laid hand to helm, deep hum answering the recognition. His field carefully gathered in the tattered, damaged one, just enough to make a connection, pulse soothing calm and a stern warning.
Yes, Guardian. Stop now, Barricade. You will hurt the little one. You must be careful.
A tight whine answered him, but the claws ceased their restless movements. The field clinging to his conveyed strong emotions but in such simple thoughts, Ironhide suspected more damage than even Ratchet knew.
Little one… MINE…. Safe, safe, safe…
An optic ridge raised. Another appraising look at Mikaela, who was watching them both now with undisguised fascination. The proprietary claim was interesting, to say the least, but he could detect nothing but that the little one’s safety was paramount. Ironhide shook his helm, muttering. He had bigger concerns than whatever might be going on with these two, but he could at least provide some guidance.
The Guardian’s field surrounded the weaker, the command rolling through field and processors.
Protect the little one, Barricade, keep it safe.
Ironhide’s mouthplates tightened as the Decepticon’s affirmative fell immediately into the familiar compliance of charge to Guardian, protocols meshing neatly to encompass his new role. Beside him, Prime rumbled approval.
“He’s responding to you.”
“Of course he is,” Ironhide grumbled sourly, and he didn’t have to look around to know Ratchet was smirking and Jazz was grinning openly.
He tried to withdraw then, pulling back as gently as he could, but Barricade’s field clung to his, showing surprising strength for one so damaged. A single thought pulsed through, a plea, a beg, repeating and insistent.
Guardian, return? Return? Return?!
He laid his hand on Barricade’s helm again, his field bolstering the weaker one with a Guardian’s strength and promise.
I will return. Rest now, Barricade.
Another pulse of willing compliance, then the command took hold. Barricade stilled and relaxed, dropping into an exhausted recharge.
Ironhide watched Prime gather up and carry the offlined mech back to Medbay. Primus Below, what the Pit had he just gotten himself into? Frag, frag, frag.
-----------------------------
It was done. The Allspark was gone, safely out of reach. A huge, monstrous hand lifted him high into the air. A sharp digit dug a furrow into his plating, the pain registering on the sensors of his throat. Processors did a stutter-stall when the digit dug deeper, lifting and tearing plates away. Bumblebee struggled, legs kicking, hands clawing, twin trickles of energon and lubricant seeping down his chest. Another plate gone, and he felt it like hot slag poured into an open wound. A thin, high scream pierced his audials.
That was him, his scream.
The Camaro’s engine moaned, the entire frame shuddered.
A menacing growl grated against audials, “Take this message back to your Prime: ‘You won’t win this.’” Bumblebee’s retort was cut off before it could form. Claws dug into his throat, shredding cables and infrastructure. Agony lanced through his core, fingers clawed feebly at the monster holding him, screams echoing in audials.
“And you, little Autobot,” deep threatening tones vibrated into twisted metal and exposed cabling, “the Allspark may be out of my reach, but you don’t get to brag of your actions here today.” Sharp claws wrapped about the core of his vocalizer, almost a gentle caress before Megatron made a fist and crushed Bumblebee’s vocalizer into a sparking ruin.
His spark stuttered; warnings beat through every system, shock and pain and energon loss initiating the shutdown. A vicious laugh, a sharp shake to drag claws from his throat, and when the monster finally let him go, Bumblebee was in stasis lock before he hit the ground…
He jolted out of nightmarish recharge when a hand fell on his door.
“You have nightmares, too?”
“Sam! I-” Bumblebee choked on his reply, engine whining, “You startled me.” Recharge nightmares, old memories haunting them, with a war lasting as long as theirs had, no one was spared.
He ran scanners over his human, a sinking feeling in his tank. Scans showed nothing out of the ordinary but everything about Sam just screamed wrong: The too thin frame, the constant clawing at the marks on his hands, the haunted look in warm brown eyes and the alien flash of blue at their centers. Even his biofield was off. It glowed dim and sickly and left Bumblebee chilled to the core.
The hand stroked him, the glyphs on the palm warm, almost hot, but the hand itself was icy cold. The Camaro shifted uncomfortably under the touch.
“Do you, ‘Bee?”
Sam leaned his head against the side window, too tired to hold it up. Fevered skin, restless hands, the glyphs burned against metal.
Alarms clamored in his processors. Sam needed help, he needed a hospital, he needed Ratchet--
*Guardian, he needs you.*
The voice was startling in its clarity, systems trying and failing to identify its origin. Not coming through comms, not a master override or a virus. The voice seemed to come from everywhere, smooth and deep and strangely familiar.
The boy was beginning to shake against his frame. Sam raised his head, bright blue pinpricks centered in brown eyes. The glyphs blazed hot.
A single ping through to the Medbay was enough to inform Bumblebee there would be no help today. The trial with Barricade had nearly ended in disaster and Ratchet currently had his hands full stabilizing him again.
*Guardian, he needs your help.*
How? What help could he give, what did he have that could possibly help Sam?
He wasn’t aware of asking out loud, but the voice answered him anyway.
*Safe haven, Guardian. He needs that, and you.*
“’Bee?” His hand tugged at the handle, and Bumblebee opened for him, ignoring the flash of blue centered in brown eyes. Sam curled up on the seat, heat from his body radiating into the cab.
*Guardian, he needs your protection.*
What protection? He couldn’t protect Sam, wasn’t protecting him now. As a Guardian, he was failing miserably.
*Guardian, you have sacrificed.*
Images flashed through his processors: Sending the Allspark off of Cybertron, safe from Megatron; taking the cube out of Hoover Dam, the desperate race to Mission City; lubricant and energon streamed from a ruined vocalizer; legs blown off, crawling to Sam over broken rubble to hand him the Cube.
*Guardian, you have not failed.*
“Feel better in here, with you. Feel safe, ‘Bee,” Sam mumbled, hands slowly stroking the leather of his seat. “I haven’t slept in forever, too scared.” His voice hitched, cut off by a choked sound. Something wet hit the backseat, then another, and another.
*Guardian, please…keep him safe.*
Safe haven. He could do that.
Bumblebee wrapped his charge up in glowing field and soft webbing and low crooning hum, rocking back and forth on his shocks.
“I’m here, Sam, I’m with you. I won’t ever leave you.”
~*~*~*~*~*~~*~*~*~*~*~
Sam tossed and turned in the backseat, fevered mutterings in broken dreams. Something strange was coming, bearing down on him. Shadows moved and darkened, indistinct shapes, form without feature. Optics glowed out of the darkness, blues and purples and reds. Voices muttered over his head, arguing, protesting, some angry, others resigned.
*An organic? Impossible! ...It was not meant for this… But it did, it has… We always knew there was a possibility… For when there was no other choice! Not now, not like this! ...Then it is lost to us? ...We were so close, so close!*
*It is done, arguing is fruitless.* A single voice, deep and resonant, cut through the babble. A gigantic shadow approached, towering over the rest.
The others deferred, bowing and falling back. *Can it be undone?*
The giant paused, considering, turning blazing blue optics down to look at Sam. He shrank back. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. Sam curled up into a tight ball, fingernails digging into the glyphs in his palms, whispering, begging, a steady chant in his mind. ‘Bee! ‘Bee! Bumblebee!
*It will be difficult, but my Prime has spoken. Not one more of these must be sacrificed.*
The answer to his prayers came with the heavy thud of metal footsteps, the whirring of large gears, and suddenly he was there, right there, metal warm and solid against his back. Sam huddled against Bumblebee’s foot and Bumblebee crouched low, mantling protectively over his charge.
*It grows stronger…the organic will die…it hurts him…not designed for this…*
The giant leaned down. Brilliant blue optics the size of a house regarded Sam.
*Child of another race, you have welcomed my children and fought bravely beside them. For this, you have my deep gratitude.*
An enormous fingertip touched delicately. Sam’s cry ended on a soft moan, his entire body trembling.
*I am saddened that your efforts have brought you a burden you were never meant to bear. I know it hurts you, but for now, little one…*
*Relief.*
The voice resonated, vibrated, a call echoing through his mind, and something deep inside answered. Sam slumped, shivering, the relentless demonic itching of the glyphs fading away.
*Comfort.*
Another moan, his eyelids fluttered. He was bundled and wrapped up, swaddled in layers thick and soft and warm. All the nausea, the tremors, the bone-deep aching misery of his body vanished under a wave of sauna-like heat.
*Peace.*
Like flipping a switch, the nightmare screams and angry cacophony stopped, and there was only blessed, blessed quiet inside his head. Only him in there, alone. Sam sobbed openly, pressing tight to warm metal.
ThankGodohthankGodthankeverythingthankyouthankyouthankyou.
*Sleep now, little one, I have done all that can be done. The rest will be for you, Guardian.*
The great optics turned to him and Bumblebee churred anxiously, hovering over Sam.
“Please, what is wrong with him?”
*There are consequences at play here I did not anticipate. Great care must be taken not to damage him further.*
“He’s sick, he needs our medic.”
*Your medic cannot help him. What is happening is beyond the scope of anything on their world, or yours.*
“I don’t understand.”
*Guardian, when the Allspark was destroyed, it sought an anchor; your charge was closest to it. Pieces of it embedded within him, but they are in a transient state--half here, half scattered across the eleven dimensions.*
“You know this? If it is within your power, please help him! Get them out!”
*If I called them forth now, they would be reborn to this dimension, but their return would kill your charge.*
“If they are Allspark shards, maybe Prime can-“
*No.*
*No…no…no….no…* A chorus of voices echoed the giant.
*The Matrix-bearer could indeed summon them himself, but the end would be the same. The shards would respond and seek out the Matrix. Violently.*
“But they are hurting him.”
Bumblebee could see so clearly here, wherever ‘here’ was. Not the shards themselves but what they were doing to Sam. Scanners read bio signs that shifted chameleon-like, feeding false positives. No wonder Ratchet had not been alarmed; the shards were hiding themselves, camouflaging, masking a reality that was quite different.
Stress patterns glared bright red, biorhythms and blood chemistry were off, immune system and metabolism, all disrupted and growing worse.
A great shudder wracked his frame. Bumblebee carefully gathered up the sleeping boy and cradled him to his chest.
“Sam is dying.”
*The shards require energy to make the transition. I am truly sorry.*
One huge fingerpad touched lightly to Bumblebee’s frame.
*There is still hope. Do not allow him near Prime or your medic, their efforts would be well-intentioned but disastrous. Time is what is needed. Use your field to stabilize him while the shards make the transition.*
*Time…time… time… need time…* whispered pleas from out of the darkness.
*He will remember none of this. You must. Avoid Prime and the others. Keep your charge with you, Guardian. Remember.*
~*~*~*~*~*~~*~*~*~*~*~
“I’ve been wandering the base for half an hour looking for you.” She could tell by the way the car jerked that she’d startled him right out of recharge. “We had a date.”
“I’m sorry, I forgot.”
The Camaro shifted on its shocks. Mikaela’s eyes narrowed. That little tell was guilt.
She sighed and patted his hood. There was only one reason he would be feeling guilty. Bumblebee was Sam’s Guardian, that was unavoidable, but they needed to come to some kind of understanding, set some boundaries, especially on date night. “Well, I’m here now and we should talk. Let me in, please?”
“I can’t.”
“’Bee?”
“Sam is with me now. I’m sorry, Mikaela, truly.”
She knew it was coming, dreaded it, but suddenly it was right here and she was face to face with it.
Sam is with me now.
“And you’re with Sam.”
“Yes.”
Bumblebee had chosen.
Mikaela had to take a step back, blinking back tears, the abruptness breathtaking and cruel and a punch to the gut. She knew, but she still hoped... she really hoped he would choose her.
So many times, she decided she was wrong, what she was seeing, what was happening between them, and all the while deep down inside, she knew. She thought Sam had closed the door on that choice, and if she waited long enough ‘Bee would come around to accepting it, and oh how she wished she’d had the courage to walk away before the decision was made for her.
She waited too long.
Used, cheap, just a distraction until he could have who he really wanted.
Her head bowed, tears escaping to slide down a cheek and her chest aching with the effort to hold the rest back, and then pride came to her rescue. Mikaela lifted her head, let him see all the anger and hurt and the shine of tears. She was done making excuses for him.
He chose, and he was for damn sure going to own all of that choice.
“You came to me, not Sam. You asked me, not him.”
“Mikaela, I never meant to hurt you.”
She felt his field try to connect with hers and fought it back, fury in her eyes and tears streaming freely.
“Please, tell me what I can do--”
“There is nothing you can do to make this better. You hurt me, Bumblebee, and you used me. It will be a long time before I forgive you for that.”
The Camaro let out a low whine, a tremor went through the frame.
Mikaela took a deep breath and drew herself up. “I don’t want to see you or speak to you for a while. You know my hours. Stay away from Medbay and the Rec room when you know I’ll be there. Clear?”
A hard look pinned the Camaro. The car shuddered, Bumblebee’s vocals a mere whisper.
“Clear. Mikaela, please, let me explain-“
She turned on her heel and left, not bothering to answer.
She paced down the hallway, almost blinded by angry tears, Medbay her goal and refuge. Her cot was here, but Barricade was all the way over there, resting on a hastily jury rigged berth.
If that was him in the yard, really him, somehow communicating with her, she needed that now, someone who wanted her, needed her, only her. She would take that need and longing and wrap it around herself like a shield.
Mikaela could hear low tones in Ratchet’s office; the rest of Medbay was silent and deserted. She pulled the cot across the large room, positioning it just below the enormous berth, plumped up the pillow and climbed in. She could see part of his shoulder and arm, the strong lines of his leg through the web of cables and tubing. Pride stirred at the gleam and high polish of his armor. That was her work, her efforts.
She waited for the first hint of that touch, straining her senses in the dim room, Barricade a still and silent bulk above her.
I’m here, Barricade, please talk to me?
Nothing, no touch, no welcome, no warmth. Nothing to shield her from memories.
Not riding with him, hands running over his dash and gripping the wheel hard as he raced the wind; not curling up with him late at night, drifting off to sleep to the sound of his quiet engine and contented hum; not seeing his spark, touching, feeling that glorious, hot, explosive pleasure racing through her, body and soul, not ever again.
She was all alone, no one would see or hear. Mikaela turned her face into the pillow and cried.
-----------------------------
An hour past sunset, the Leader of the Autobots had rolled out of Base and headed into the foothills, escorted by a dozen smaller vehicles. Now Prime transformed and stood up, moving off the road and onto a low rise. His ‘escort’ began to move forward. Prime turned to face them and they stopped. The snik of deploying weapons carried clearly. Optimus vented a sigh and turned away.
::We are on a private line, you may speak freely::
The snort echoed through his receiver. “You have the tightest surveillance around you, Mr. Prime, I don’t see how that’s possible.”
If Lennox had been wrong about this contact… ::Please, call me Optimus.:: Optimus pinched his nose plating, schooling his vocals to calm. ::I trust the skills of my team as you trust your men. We are on a completely secure line. There will be no eavesdropping.::
“Very well--Optimus. I can take a very good guess why you’re contacting me, but I have to tell you, my hands are tied concerning any diplomatic overtures or treaties. I don’t have that kind of authority.”
::Nor would I ask you to involve yourself in that.:: Prime assured. ::We have reason to believe that certain things are being kept from you. What I am proposing is an offer of information as a first step towards trust and mutual cooperation.::
There was a telling pause. Prime looked up into the night sky and waited. The atmosphere filtered starlight into a scatter of glimmering lights. Behind him, soldiers spoke in quiet murmurs, clothing rustling in the chill air.
“Go on.”
Please, let this work.
::A small contingent of men from the destroyed Base in Qatar has been assigned to hunt down a rogue Decepticon.::
“I’m aware, yes. There are a number of troops deployed there with them as we speak.”
::You may not be aware that the order has been changed from destroy to capture.::
“You have proof of this?”
::One of the men has verified those orders. He also gave your name as a possible friendly contact.::
There was only one man with access to highly sensitive information, in a position to contact them directly. Optimus waited again, praying to Primus that Lennox’s trust had not been misplaced.
Another long pause, indistinct voices on the other end, and when Morshower spoke again it was with barely suppressed anger.
“I’ll tell you right now, Optimus. I’ve been making careful inquiries about just that, and I’ve been stonewalled up until now.”
Anger was palpable through the comm and then it was contained and turned back to brisk and professional.
“My main concern now is for the safety of those men.”
Prime found himself liking the man more and more. Lennox, the men under his command, and now Morshower, these were humans he could work with.
::It is mine as well, General. I would like to propose a temporary alliance for their sake and I will continue to relay information to you. If I may ask favor?::
“If it’s within my power, you have it.”
::My weapons specialist is monitoring the situation with the Decepticon drone, and is prepared to help track it down and destroy it. His contact there… well, let’s just say if this particular human should go missing, Ironhide will remove anything standing in his way to go and find him. I would prefer if he had help with that, quickly and quietly, to avoid any trouble.::
“Done. I’ll have a transport ready and waiting whenever you give the word.”
::Thank you, General.::
More voices in the background, some heated, then Morshower, voice sharp and to the point. “Screw the treaty. Those diplomats have their heads up their asses if they can’t see this as an advantage…” More low voices and then Morshower was back, calm and controlled.
“Thank you, Optimus. The more help we have on this, the better as far as I’m concerned.”
Prime disconnected from the call with less a sense of triumph than of profound relief. He turned to rejoin his ‘escort.’ The guards did not seem quite so intrusive now, their weapons not quite so blatant a sign of hostility. These here might not trust him, but others did. Finally, the beginnings of an alliance, and a firmer foothold on this planet. It was a start.
Prime regarded the soldiers calmly before transforming back into vehicle mode. “Gentlemen, shall we go?” He didn’t wait for a response before rolling onto the road and heading back to base.
tbc
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A/N: A million thank you’s for the kudos, comments and encouragement, dear readers, they keep me going in spite of too many real life delays. This fic continues, slowly but surely. Many, many thanks go to my lovely beta, quidamling, for suggestions, editing, plotting, and the ongoing development of this entire fic. So much love, hun. I could not do this without you. ♥♥♥
( Table of Contents )
Verse: Post 2007 Movie, AU
Rating: Mature
Pairings: Jazz/Maggie Madsen, Ironhide/Sarah Lennox/Will Lennox, Prime/Ratchet, Bumblebee/Sam, Barricade/Mikaela
Summary: What is love? Is it an instinct? An emotion? Or an ability that can transcend species? After eons of conflict, the war-weary Autobots have a new home, a new life, and a chance for something more. And for a single Decepticon, a chance for salvation.
Warnings: NSFW Mech/human sexual situations.
Disclaimer: I own nothing, Hasbro has it all.
( Prologue )( Chapter One )( Chapter Two )( Chapter Three )( Chapter Four )( Chapter Five )( Chapter Six )( Chapter Seven )( Chapter Eight )( Chapter Nine )( Chapter Ten )( Chapter Eleven )( Chapter Twelve )( Chapter Thirteen )( Chapter Fourteen )( Chapter Fifteen )( Chapter Sixteen )( Chapter Seventeen )
-------------------
Notes:
:: Denotes comms
-------------- Denotes scene breaks
~*~*~*~*~*~ Denotes breaks within scenes
-----------------------------
~ Chapter 18 ~
“Ironhide, we are here to assist if needed.”
Fine, so he wasn’t here to blow a hole in Barricade. Didn’t mean he had to like it.
With Prime’s arm restraining him, Ironhide glared at the injured Decepticon, voicing his displeasure with a growl before pointedly setting his battle AI on high alert. Injured ‘Con or no, he was in charge of security and that was staying on.
Ratchet fretted and fiddled with the transformation sequence, Jazz was busy trying to coax something more than a snarl out of Barricade’s comm, and Prime did his sage observer thing, but until that scrap heap made a threatening move, Ironhide was superfluous.
Chafing at the inactivity he turned his attention to his charges. Here at least, he could be of some use. Sarah and Annabelle had three more hours in town before his return; lunch, something called a ‘Mommy and Me’ class, and then some shopping before requiring pickup. Ironhide had been reluctant to leave them, but they were there and the danger was here. Just as well they were safely in town for now.
His battle AI kicked up a notch as Barricade haltingly began to move. More a stagger than purposed. Ironhide pinged an acknowledgement detailing new parameters, and began looking over the latest data from Will Lennox. Skorponok’s trajectory had changed, the randomness shifting from roughly circular patterns with the Base as its center, to movements covering a 180 degree path and moving away.
The AI alerted him again. Prime had moved to face Barricade, offers of amnesty and safety were being ignored. Typical. Ironhide dismissed the alert and returned to studying the data. Guardian programming and instincts were going to war over the Captain’s intel. Skorponok’s movements still covered too much area to make the search teams effective, and its trajectory was leading the men further and further away from Base. The situation was beyond frustrating, and dangerous, and it was all Ironhide could do not to demand that Prime let him join his charge right now.
For at least the thousandth time since Lennox had deployed, the Guardian tapped into the security tag the human wore, reassuring himself with the steady biorhythms that Lennox was safe.
Focus ticked steadily higher; again his AI sounded an alert, and Ironhide absently acknowledged.
“Ratchet?” Prime’s helm tilted as Barricade snarled and backed away, stumbling around blindly to suddenly stopped in his tracks.
“Scanning now. We’re looking at visual, auditory, sensory, and processor damage at the very least, possibly severe.”
The AI finally got its master’s attention with a sudden shrilling of its battle alarm: FRONT AND CENTER, NOW!
Ironhide’s optics pinned, narrowed and assessing, every battle system snapped to high alert. There was something strange about the injured mech, something had changed. Slow steps instead of a stagger, his helm moved from side to side, movements efficient, controlled and purposeful.
Pattern established, tracking behavior confirmed.
The ‘Con was very nearly deaf, dumb and blind, what could he possibly be tracking? No, he couldn’t be, he was too damaged, but the AI was insisting its analysis was correct.
Cannons automatically powered on but he couldn’t fire, not at this range, the humans were too close.
Target acquired.
Targeting what?
Verify! Ironhide rapped out the demand. The AI was replying before the command completed.
Verified. Analysis of target acquisition estimated at 99.8% accuracy.
Frag.
The Decepticon froze, then made a sudden lunge, claws out and grasping.
Mikaela screamed and stumbled back. Jazz shouted a warning and scooped up Maggie. Ironhide snarled, both cannons aimed directly at the ‘Con, when Prime moved to intercept Barricade and a dayglow green blur barreled into Ironhide from the side.
“Don’t even think about it,” Ratchet snapped, jerking Ironhide's hands together and tugging them to his own chest. Ironhide heard the clicks of gears and cables in his arm as Ratchet braced himself, down to balancing his weight with a shift of his hips. The AI took care of the rest, cannons powering back down and a failsafe initiating to avoid friendly fire.
“Fine,” Ironhide grumbled, still in battle mode and seeing red even if his AI failed to concur.
Ratchet’s mouthplates twitched. “Didn’t think I knew about that failsafe, did you?”
“Smart aft.” Ironhide looked over Ratchet’s shoulder to see Prime holding Barricade down, one huge knee pressed into the center of the Decepticon’s back and one of the clawed hands twisted behind his back in an effective lock. Ironhide would have preferred a bit more weight and a little bit harsher, but it would do.
“Ratchet,” Optimus interrupted, deep tones a little shaken, “his field feels..” He paused, a myriad scenarios and calculations flying through processors, “...wrong. I can’t calm him, I can’t even reach him. How far did the purge get?”
“The sixty-four-thousand-dollar question,” Jazz muttered to Maggie, safely in arms.
“I don’t know. It may have been close to completion before I stopped it.” Ratchet’s field flickered against Ironhide, torn between allowing him time to stand down and going to his patient.
Maggie craned her neck to see past Prime. “Mikaela, are you ok?”
Mikaela was slowly climbing to her feet, a wary eye on the Decepticon. “Yeah, ok.” She backed further away from the large claws scrabbling in the dirt. The monster was still after her, still trying to get her.
A low whine stopped her. Barricade’s helm was moving, blind optics turning her way. A shiver, a flicker of sensation against her skin caught her by surprise.
Stay...
Want, need, overpowering. The same as in Medbay.
Only you.... please....
Not enticing now, not luring, this was a plea, a cry for help.
“Barricade?” Mikaela breathed, incredulous.
Ironhide gave Mikaela a long look, turned a sharper one on Barricade, watching the desperate flail and grapple, claws digging great furrows into the earth trying to reach her.
“Off.” He pushed Ratchet to the side as the medic hissed a warning, retracting his cannons to their smallest forms before approaching Prime and the fallen Decepticon. “I won’t hurt him.”
Swore to Primus I wouldn’t do this…
Ironhide knelt, field extending. Barricade’s helm turned, blind optics searching, beginning to struggle beneath Prime again.
Fear, panic, dread… little one… danger… GUARDIAN!
Ironhide laid hand to helm, deep hum answering the recognition. His field carefully gathered in the tattered, damaged one, just enough to make a connection, pulse soothing calm and a stern warning.
Yes, Guardian. Stop now, Barricade. You will hurt the little one. You must be careful.
A tight whine answered him, but the claws ceased their restless movements. The field clinging to his conveyed strong emotions but in such simple thoughts, Ironhide suspected more damage than even Ratchet knew.
Little one… MINE…. Safe, safe, safe…
An optic ridge raised. Another appraising look at Mikaela, who was watching them both now with undisguised fascination. The proprietary claim was interesting, to say the least, but he could detect nothing but that the little one’s safety was paramount. Ironhide shook his helm, muttering. He had bigger concerns than whatever might be going on with these two, but he could at least provide some guidance.
The Guardian’s field surrounded the weaker, the command rolling through field and processors.
Protect the little one, Barricade, keep it safe.
Ironhide’s mouthplates tightened as the Decepticon’s affirmative fell immediately into the familiar compliance of charge to Guardian, protocols meshing neatly to encompass his new role. Beside him, Prime rumbled approval.
“He’s responding to you.”
“Of course he is,” Ironhide grumbled sourly, and he didn’t have to look around to know Ratchet was smirking and Jazz was grinning openly.
He tried to withdraw then, pulling back as gently as he could, but Barricade’s field clung to his, showing surprising strength for one so damaged. A single thought pulsed through, a plea, a beg, repeating and insistent.
Guardian, return? Return? Return?!
He laid his hand on Barricade’s helm again, his field bolstering the weaker one with a Guardian’s strength and promise.
I will return. Rest now, Barricade.
Another pulse of willing compliance, then the command took hold. Barricade stilled and relaxed, dropping into an exhausted recharge.
Ironhide watched Prime gather up and carry the offlined mech back to Medbay. Primus Below, what the Pit had he just gotten himself into? Frag, frag, frag.
-----------------------------
It was done. The Allspark was gone, safely out of reach. A huge, monstrous hand lifted him high into the air. A sharp digit dug a furrow into his plating, the pain registering on the sensors of his throat. Processors did a stutter-stall when the digit dug deeper, lifting and tearing plates away. Bumblebee struggled, legs kicking, hands clawing, twin trickles of energon and lubricant seeping down his chest. Another plate gone, and he felt it like hot slag poured into an open wound. A thin, high scream pierced his audials.
That was him, his scream.
The Camaro’s engine moaned, the entire frame shuddered.
A menacing growl grated against audials, “Take this message back to your Prime: ‘You won’t win this.’” Bumblebee’s retort was cut off before it could form. Claws dug into his throat, shredding cables and infrastructure. Agony lanced through his core, fingers clawed feebly at the monster holding him, screams echoing in audials.
“And you, little Autobot,” deep threatening tones vibrated into twisted metal and exposed cabling, “the Allspark may be out of my reach, but you don’t get to brag of your actions here today.” Sharp claws wrapped about the core of his vocalizer, almost a gentle caress before Megatron made a fist and crushed Bumblebee’s vocalizer into a sparking ruin.
His spark stuttered; warnings beat through every system, shock and pain and energon loss initiating the shutdown. A vicious laugh, a sharp shake to drag claws from his throat, and when the monster finally let him go, Bumblebee was in stasis lock before he hit the ground…
He jolted out of nightmarish recharge when a hand fell on his door.
“You have nightmares, too?”
“Sam! I-” Bumblebee choked on his reply, engine whining, “You startled me.” Recharge nightmares, old memories haunting them, with a war lasting as long as theirs had, no one was spared.
He ran scanners over his human, a sinking feeling in his tank. Scans showed nothing out of the ordinary but everything about Sam just screamed wrong: The too thin frame, the constant clawing at the marks on his hands, the haunted look in warm brown eyes and the alien flash of blue at their centers. Even his biofield was off. It glowed dim and sickly and left Bumblebee chilled to the core.
The hand stroked him, the glyphs on the palm warm, almost hot, but the hand itself was icy cold. The Camaro shifted uncomfortably under the touch.
“Do you, ‘Bee?”
Sam leaned his head against the side window, too tired to hold it up. Fevered skin, restless hands, the glyphs burned against metal.
Alarms clamored in his processors. Sam needed help, he needed a hospital, he needed Ratchet--
*Guardian, he needs you.*
The voice was startling in its clarity, systems trying and failing to identify its origin. Not coming through comms, not a master override or a virus. The voice seemed to come from everywhere, smooth and deep and strangely familiar.
The boy was beginning to shake against his frame. Sam raised his head, bright blue pinpricks centered in brown eyes. The glyphs blazed hot.
A single ping through to the Medbay was enough to inform Bumblebee there would be no help today. The trial with Barricade had nearly ended in disaster and Ratchet currently had his hands full stabilizing him again.
*Guardian, he needs your help.*
How? What help could he give, what did he have that could possibly help Sam?
He wasn’t aware of asking out loud, but the voice answered him anyway.
*Safe haven, Guardian. He needs that, and you.*
“’Bee?” His hand tugged at the handle, and Bumblebee opened for him, ignoring the flash of blue centered in brown eyes. Sam curled up on the seat, heat from his body radiating into the cab.
*Guardian, he needs your protection.*
What protection? He couldn’t protect Sam, wasn’t protecting him now. As a Guardian, he was failing miserably.
*Guardian, you have sacrificed.*
Images flashed through his processors: Sending the Allspark off of Cybertron, safe from Megatron; taking the cube out of Hoover Dam, the desperate race to Mission City; lubricant and energon streamed from a ruined vocalizer; legs blown off, crawling to Sam over broken rubble to hand him the Cube.
*Guardian, you have not failed.*
“Feel better in here, with you. Feel safe, ‘Bee,” Sam mumbled, hands slowly stroking the leather of his seat. “I haven’t slept in forever, too scared.” His voice hitched, cut off by a choked sound. Something wet hit the backseat, then another, and another.
*Guardian, please…keep him safe.*
Safe haven. He could do that.
Bumblebee wrapped his charge up in glowing field and soft webbing and low crooning hum, rocking back and forth on his shocks.
“I’m here, Sam, I’m with you. I won’t ever leave you.”
~*~*~*~*~*~~*~*~*~*~*~
Sam tossed and turned in the backseat, fevered mutterings in broken dreams. Something strange was coming, bearing down on him. Shadows moved and darkened, indistinct shapes, form without feature. Optics glowed out of the darkness, blues and purples and reds. Voices muttered over his head, arguing, protesting, some angry, others resigned.
*An organic? Impossible! ...It was not meant for this… But it did, it has… We always knew there was a possibility… For when there was no other choice! Not now, not like this! ...Then it is lost to us? ...We were so close, so close!*
*It is done, arguing is fruitless.* A single voice, deep and resonant, cut through the babble. A gigantic shadow approached, towering over the rest.
The others deferred, bowing and falling back. *Can it be undone?*
The giant paused, considering, turning blazing blue optics down to look at Sam. He shrank back. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. Sam curled up into a tight ball, fingernails digging into the glyphs in his palms, whispering, begging, a steady chant in his mind. ‘Bee! ‘Bee! Bumblebee!
*It will be difficult, but my Prime has spoken. Not one more of these must be sacrificed.*
The answer to his prayers came with the heavy thud of metal footsteps, the whirring of large gears, and suddenly he was there, right there, metal warm and solid against his back. Sam huddled against Bumblebee’s foot and Bumblebee crouched low, mantling protectively over his charge.
*It grows stronger…the organic will die…it hurts him…not designed for this…*
The giant leaned down. Brilliant blue optics the size of a house regarded Sam.
*Child of another race, you have welcomed my children and fought bravely beside them. For this, you have my deep gratitude.*
An enormous fingertip touched delicately. Sam’s cry ended on a soft moan, his entire body trembling.
*I am saddened that your efforts have brought you a burden you were never meant to bear. I know it hurts you, but for now, little one…*
*Relief.*
The voice resonated, vibrated, a call echoing through his mind, and something deep inside answered. Sam slumped, shivering, the relentless demonic itching of the glyphs fading away.
*Comfort.*
Another moan, his eyelids fluttered. He was bundled and wrapped up, swaddled in layers thick and soft and warm. All the nausea, the tremors, the bone-deep aching misery of his body vanished under a wave of sauna-like heat.
*Peace.*
Like flipping a switch, the nightmare screams and angry cacophony stopped, and there was only blessed, blessed quiet inside his head. Only him in there, alone. Sam sobbed openly, pressing tight to warm metal.
ThankGodohthankGodthankeverythingthankyouthankyouthankyou.
*Sleep now, little one, I have done all that can be done. The rest will be for you, Guardian.*
The great optics turned to him and Bumblebee churred anxiously, hovering over Sam.
“Please, what is wrong with him?”
*There are consequences at play here I did not anticipate. Great care must be taken not to damage him further.*
“He’s sick, he needs our medic.”
*Your medic cannot help him. What is happening is beyond the scope of anything on their world, or yours.*
“I don’t understand.”
*Guardian, when the Allspark was destroyed, it sought an anchor; your charge was closest to it. Pieces of it embedded within him, but they are in a transient state--half here, half scattered across the eleven dimensions.*
“You know this? If it is within your power, please help him! Get them out!”
*If I called them forth now, they would be reborn to this dimension, but their return would kill your charge.*
“If they are Allspark shards, maybe Prime can-“
*No.*
*No…no…no….no…* A chorus of voices echoed the giant.
*The Matrix-bearer could indeed summon them himself, but the end would be the same. The shards would respond and seek out the Matrix. Violently.*
“But they are hurting him.”
Bumblebee could see so clearly here, wherever ‘here’ was. Not the shards themselves but what they were doing to Sam. Scanners read bio signs that shifted chameleon-like, feeding false positives. No wonder Ratchet had not been alarmed; the shards were hiding themselves, camouflaging, masking a reality that was quite different.
Stress patterns glared bright red, biorhythms and blood chemistry were off, immune system and metabolism, all disrupted and growing worse.
A great shudder wracked his frame. Bumblebee carefully gathered up the sleeping boy and cradled him to his chest.
“Sam is dying.”
*The shards require energy to make the transition. I am truly sorry.*
One huge fingerpad touched lightly to Bumblebee’s frame.
*There is still hope. Do not allow him near Prime or your medic, their efforts would be well-intentioned but disastrous. Time is what is needed. Use your field to stabilize him while the shards make the transition.*
*Time…time… time… need time…* whispered pleas from out of the darkness.
*He will remember none of this. You must. Avoid Prime and the others. Keep your charge with you, Guardian. Remember.*
~*~*~*~*~*~~*~*~*~*~*~
“I’ve been wandering the base for half an hour looking for you.” She could tell by the way the car jerked that she’d startled him right out of recharge. “We had a date.”
“I’m sorry, I forgot.”
The Camaro shifted on its shocks. Mikaela’s eyes narrowed. That little tell was guilt.
She sighed and patted his hood. There was only one reason he would be feeling guilty. Bumblebee was Sam’s Guardian, that was unavoidable, but they needed to come to some kind of understanding, set some boundaries, especially on date night. “Well, I’m here now and we should talk. Let me in, please?”
“I can’t.”
“’Bee?”
“Sam is with me now. I’m sorry, Mikaela, truly.”
She knew it was coming, dreaded it, but suddenly it was right here and she was face to face with it.
Sam is with me now.
“And you’re with Sam.”
“Yes.”
Bumblebee had chosen.
Mikaela had to take a step back, blinking back tears, the abruptness breathtaking and cruel and a punch to the gut. She knew, but she still hoped... she really hoped he would choose her.
So many times, she decided she was wrong, what she was seeing, what was happening between them, and all the while deep down inside, she knew. She thought Sam had closed the door on that choice, and if she waited long enough ‘Bee would come around to accepting it, and oh how she wished she’d had the courage to walk away before the decision was made for her.
She waited too long.
Used, cheap, just a distraction until he could have who he really wanted.
Her head bowed, tears escaping to slide down a cheek and her chest aching with the effort to hold the rest back, and then pride came to her rescue. Mikaela lifted her head, let him see all the anger and hurt and the shine of tears. She was done making excuses for him.
He chose, and he was for damn sure going to own all of that choice.
“You came to me, not Sam. You asked me, not him.”
“Mikaela, I never meant to hurt you.”
She felt his field try to connect with hers and fought it back, fury in her eyes and tears streaming freely.
“Please, tell me what I can do--”
“There is nothing you can do to make this better. You hurt me, Bumblebee, and you used me. It will be a long time before I forgive you for that.”
The Camaro let out a low whine, a tremor went through the frame.
Mikaela took a deep breath and drew herself up. “I don’t want to see you or speak to you for a while. You know my hours. Stay away from Medbay and the Rec room when you know I’ll be there. Clear?”
A hard look pinned the Camaro. The car shuddered, Bumblebee’s vocals a mere whisper.
“Clear. Mikaela, please, let me explain-“
She turned on her heel and left, not bothering to answer.
She paced down the hallway, almost blinded by angry tears, Medbay her goal and refuge. Her cot was here, but Barricade was all the way over there, resting on a hastily jury rigged berth.
If that was him in the yard, really him, somehow communicating with her, she needed that now, someone who wanted her, needed her, only her. She would take that need and longing and wrap it around herself like a shield.
Mikaela could hear low tones in Ratchet’s office; the rest of Medbay was silent and deserted. She pulled the cot across the large room, positioning it just below the enormous berth, plumped up the pillow and climbed in. She could see part of his shoulder and arm, the strong lines of his leg through the web of cables and tubing. Pride stirred at the gleam and high polish of his armor. That was her work, her efforts.
She waited for the first hint of that touch, straining her senses in the dim room, Barricade a still and silent bulk above her.
I’m here, Barricade, please talk to me?
Nothing, no touch, no welcome, no warmth. Nothing to shield her from memories.
Not riding with him, hands running over his dash and gripping the wheel hard as he raced the wind; not curling up with him late at night, drifting off to sleep to the sound of his quiet engine and contented hum; not seeing his spark, touching, feeling that glorious, hot, explosive pleasure racing through her, body and soul, not ever again.
She was all alone, no one would see or hear. Mikaela turned her face into the pillow and cried.
-----------------------------
An hour past sunset, the Leader of the Autobots had rolled out of Base and headed into the foothills, escorted by a dozen smaller vehicles. Now Prime transformed and stood up, moving off the road and onto a low rise. His ‘escort’ began to move forward. Prime turned to face them and they stopped. The snik of deploying weapons carried clearly. Optimus vented a sigh and turned away.
::We are on a private line, you may speak freely::
The snort echoed through his receiver. “You have the tightest surveillance around you, Mr. Prime, I don’t see how that’s possible.”
If Lennox had been wrong about this contact… ::Please, call me Optimus.:: Optimus pinched his nose plating, schooling his vocals to calm. ::I trust the skills of my team as you trust your men. We are on a completely secure line. There will be no eavesdropping.::
“Very well--Optimus. I can take a very good guess why you’re contacting me, but I have to tell you, my hands are tied concerning any diplomatic overtures or treaties. I don’t have that kind of authority.”
::Nor would I ask you to involve yourself in that.:: Prime assured. ::We have reason to believe that certain things are being kept from you. What I am proposing is an offer of information as a first step towards trust and mutual cooperation.::
There was a telling pause. Prime looked up into the night sky and waited. The atmosphere filtered starlight into a scatter of glimmering lights. Behind him, soldiers spoke in quiet murmurs, clothing rustling in the chill air.
“Go on.”
Please, let this work.
::A small contingent of men from the destroyed Base in Qatar has been assigned to hunt down a rogue Decepticon.::
“I’m aware, yes. There are a number of troops deployed there with them as we speak.”
::You may not be aware that the order has been changed from destroy to capture.::
“You have proof of this?”
::One of the men has verified those orders. He also gave your name as a possible friendly contact.::
There was only one man with access to highly sensitive information, in a position to contact them directly. Optimus waited again, praying to Primus that Lennox’s trust had not been misplaced.
Another long pause, indistinct voices on the other end, and when Morshower spoke again it was with barely suppressed anger.
“I’ll tell you right now, Optimus. I’ve been making careful inquiries about just that, and I’ve been stonewalled up until now.”
Anger was palpable through the comm and then it was contained and turned back to brisk and professional.
“My main concern now is for the safety of those men.”
Prime found himself liking the man more and more. Lennox, the men under his command, and now Morshower, these were humans he could work with.
::It is mine as well, General. I would like to propose a temporary alliance for their sake and I will continue to relay information to you. If I may ask favor?::
“If it’s within my power, you have it.”
::My weapons specialist is monitoring the situation with the Decepticon drone, and is prepared to help track it down and destroy it. His contact there… well, let’s just say if this particular human should go missing, Ironhide will remove anything standing in his way to go and find him. I would prefer if he had help with that, quickly and quietly, to avoid any trouble.::
“Done. I’ll have a transport ready and waiting whenever you give the word.”
::Thank you, General.::
More voices in the background, some heated, then Morshower, voice sharp and to the point. “Screw the treaty. Those diplomats have their heads up their asses if they can’t see this as an advantage…” More low voices and then Morshower was back, calm and controlled.
“Thank you, Optimus. The more help we have on this, the better as far as I’m concerned.”
Prime disconnected from the call with less a sense of triumph than of profound relief. He turned to rejoin his ‘escort.’ The guards did not seem quite so intrusive now, their weapons not quite so blatant a sign of hostility. These here might not trust him, but others did. Finally, the beginnings of an alliance, and a firmer foothold on this planet. It was a start.
Prime regarded the soldiers calmly before transforming back into vehicle mode. “Gentlemen, shall we go?” He didn’t wait for a response before rolling onto the road and heading back to base.
tbc
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A/N: A million thank you’s for the kudos, comments and encouragement, dear readers, they keep me going in spite of too many real life delays. This fic continues, slowly but surely. Many, many thanks go to my lovely beta, quidamling, for suggestions, editing, plotting, and the ongoing development of this entire fic. So much love, hun. I could not do this without you. ♥♥♥
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