Glances Into a Spark - Can You Hear Me?
Title: Glances Into a Spark - Can You Hear Me?
Fandom: Transformers
Pairing/characters: Sam, the Autobots
Rating: PG
Warnings: n/a
Notes: Living on the ship now, so, god knows when I will and won't be around, but that doesn't mean I can't type :D This one's been stuck in my head for a while now.
Table of Contents
o o oTheme #82: Can You Hear Me?
o o o
Sleep was hard to come by. The night before, he'd slept the sleep of the completely exhausted; half gone before his head even hit the thin pillow of his cot. But ten hours of sleep, a filling (though bland) meal, a hell of a lot of aspirin and a lot of talking later, Sam was awake sometime after midnight, roaming the halls of the Nellis Air Force Base hangar they'd been allotted.
S7 had wanted everyone who fought alongside the Autobots put under strict medical observation at the Hoover Dam. Optimus Prime had politely requested that their human allies be allowed to stay near the Autobots themselves, 'in case of any previously-undetected Decepticons who wished for revenge'. John Keller had agreed with Optimus and here they were, well out of S7's grasp, as the Autobots refused to stay in a place where one of their own had been tortured.
Simmons was mad enough to spit bullets. But not quite mad enough to tell John Keller and Optimus Prime to shove off.
Sam, musing on irate agents and giant robots, didn't quite pay attention to where his feet were taking him until he rounded a corner and found himself outside. A cool night breeze lifted his arms into Goosebumps, and he rubbed at the knobby flesh, looking around. Diamond bright stars overhead, and chain-link fence all around, and Ratchet and Optimus Prime loading Bumblebee into Ironhide's truck bed.
Sam hesitated a moment before crossing the cracked tarmac over to the robots. Yeah, sure, Bumblebee had asked to stay with him and yeah, Optimus had called him an ally and a friend, but damn they were big. Big, and nerve-wracking, and Sam felt... felt unworthy of talking to such magnificent creatures.
Magnificent creatures that, judging by the music he'd heard from the main hangar space earlier in the evening, had a fondness for both country music and 80's hair bands, but still.
Bumblebee saw him and waved, nearly knocking Optimus in the face with his arm as he was lowered into Ironhide's bed. Optimus looked around to see what had caught the yellow 'bot's attention and smiled when he saw Sam. "Good evening, Sam Witwicky," he rumbled, straightening. "Or perhaps 'Good morning' would be more appropriate?"
"Hello, Optimus," Sam replied, crossing the remainder of the distance between them. "You guys going somewhere?"
Optimus nodded, his face grave. "It is the way of our kind," he said. "To honor the dead, and celebrate the living, after a battle. As we have much to celebrate, and much to mourn, we decided that moving away from the living quarters to avoid waking anyone would be best." He tipped his head slightly, considering. "Would you like to come along?"
Sam boggled a little, caught off-guard by the question. "Me?" he asked, his voice squeaking. "I mean, are you sure you want a human in the middle of your ceremony and stuff?"
"We'd be honored to have you along, Sam," Bumblebee said gently. "And I think you will enjoy it."
Sam shrugged. "Okay, I s'pose," he said uneasily, and damn, that sounded awkward, but Ironhide rolled up to him anyway, doors open in invitation. Sam crawled in the back seat, where the rear window was open and Bumblebee was looking under his own arm to peer in.
Optimus led the way, out of the fenced-in area, past a sentry who saluted the passing truck, and out into the great, open spaces of the Nellis Air Force range. They didn't stay on the road for long, cutting their own path through the desert, and after a time, the base lights and the brilliant glow of Las Vegas faded away behind them.
Sam didn't know how long they traveled before they pulled to a stop. He climbed out of Ironhide's cab and found a boulder to perch on, sitting with his knees drawn up and the last of the day's warmth rising from the rock as Bumblebee was manhandled out of Ironhide's bed. The moon, half full and painfully white cast a scattered glow on the Autobots as they transformed, more visible in the light of each other's headlights and glowing eyes than of the moon.
Then they transformed again, all four of them, huge frames shifting only slightly. Sam's eyes went wide as the almost-familiar tires and car emblems and panels and decorations melted and blended, colors and shapes blurring and blending until they looked nothing like what Sergeant Epps had described as 'car origami', though they still looked like themselves.
It took Sam a moment to realize that this was the way they were supposed to look.
"Bumblebee," Optimus Prime said, his voice a strange blend of happy and sad. "Sing us to our new home."
Sing?
Bumblebee looked up at his leader in surprise. "Optimus?"
"You know Earth better than any of us," Ratchet said. "It is only fair that this planet hears your song first."
"Introduce us," Ironhide added. "Let Earth know we're here."
Bumblebee looked between each of them, then nodded once. He settled himself, looking out over the desert, then raised his head and let out a long trill. The noise skirled up into the night, faint echoes bouncing off of boulders and flat bands of shale. Bumblebee glanced back at Ratchet, and got a nod in return. Looking more nervous than Sam had ever seen, he turned back to the desert and lifted his head again.
It was unlike any song Sam had ever heard. He'd heard their speech, the scrabbling electronic noise like modems talking to each other. This was both like and not like that sound; longer tones, sharp dips and spikes in pitch, a low warbling undertone like a whale's song tying it together. Sam stared, transfixed, and he jumped and almost tumbled himself off his boulder when another voice joined in.
Ratchet, he figured out. Not as high-pitched as Bumblebee, more fluid and rolling, like comparing a trilling flute to a clarinet. Ironhide next, lower still, a powerful thrum that chased the other two through the pitches. Optimus last, a deep bass throbbing between the others, marking the beat in a rhythm quite unlike anything Sam had ever heard. They sang together, a weird melody that went up, down, up again, and it sounded almost like a choir practicing the scales before a show, the singers getting used to each other and their venue before starting the real performance.
The impression was deepened when they stopped and looked at each other again. Ironhide said something in Cybertronian and the others nodded, and Bumblebee glanced back at Sam with a smile before turning back towards the empty desert.
Sam hugged his knees, the cold forgotten, sleep long gone, as he watched the metallic beings weave a song through the night.
Fandom: Transformers
Pairing/characters: Sam, the Autobots
Rating: PG
Warnings: n/a
Notes: Living on the ship now, so, god knows when I will and won't be around, but that doesn't mean I can't type :D This one's been stuck in my head for a while now.
Table of Contents
o o oTheme #82: Can You Hear Me?
o o o
Sleep was hard to come by. The night before, he'd slept the sleep of the completely exhausted; half gone before his head even hit the thin pillow of his cot. But ten hours of sleep, a filling (though bland) meal, a hell of a lot of aspirin and a lot of talking later, Sam was awake sometime after midnight, roaming the halls of the Nellis Air Force Base hangar they'd been allotted.
S7 had wanted everyone who fought alongside the Autobots put under strict medical observation at the Hoover Dam. Optimus Prime had politely requested that their human allies be allowed to stay near the Autobots themselves, 'in case of any previously-undetected Decepticons who wished for revenge'. John Keller had agreed with Optimus and here they were, well out of S7's grasp, as the Autobots refused to stay in a place where one of their own had been tortured.
Simmons was mad enough to spit bullets. But not quite mad enough to tell John Keller and Optimus Prime to shove off.
Sam, musing on irate agents and giant robots, didn't quite pay attention to where his feet were taking him until he rounded a corner and found himself outside. A cool night breeze lifted his arms into Goosebumps, and he rubbed at the knobby flesh, looking around. Diamond bright stars overhead, and chain-link fence all around, and Ratchet and Optimus Prime loading Bumblebee into Ironhide's truck bed.
Sam hesitated a moment before crossing the cracked tarmac over to the robots. Yeah, sure, Bumblebee had asked to stay with him and yeah, Optimus had called him an ally and a friend, but damn they were big. Big, and nerve-wracking, and Sam felt... felt unworthy of talking to such magnificent creatures.
Magnificent creatures that, judging by the music he'd heard from the main hangar space earlier in the evening, had a fondness for both country music and 80's hair bands, but still.
Bumblebee saw him and waved, nearly knocking Optimus in the face with his arm as he was lowered into Ironhide's bed. Optimus looked around to see what had caught the yellow 'bot's attention and smiled when he saw Sam. "Good evening, Sam Witwicky," he rumbled, straightening. "Or perhaps 'Good morning' would be more appropriate?"
"Hello, Optimus," Sam replied, crossing the remainder of the distance between them. "You guys going somewhere?"
Optimus nodded, his face grave. "It is the way of our kind," he said. "To honor the dead, and celebrate the living, after a battle. As we have much to celebrate, and much to mourn, we decided that moving away from the living quarters to avoid waking anyone would be best." He tipped his head slightly, considering. "Would you like to come along?"
Sam boggled a little, caught off-guard by the question. "Me?" he asked, his voice squeaking. "I mean, are you sure you want a human in the middle of your ceremony and stuff?"
"We'd be honored to have you along, Sam," Bumblebee said gently. "And I think you will enjoy it."
Sam shrugged. "Okay, I s'pose," he said uneasily, and damn, that sounded awkward, but Ironhide rolled up to him anyway, doors open in invitation. Sam crawled in the back seat, where the rear window was open and Bumblebee was looking under his own arm to peer in.
Optimus led the way, out of the fenced-in area, past a sentry who saluted the passing truck, and out into the great, open spaces of the Nellis Air Force range. They didn't stay on the road for long, cutting their own path through the desert, and after a time, the base lights and the brilliant glow of Las Vegas faded away behind them.
Sam didn't know how long they traveled before they pulled to a stop. He climbed out of Ironhide's cab and found a boulder to perch on, sitting with his knees drawn up and the last of the day's warmth rising from the rock as Bumblebee was manhandled out of Ironhide's bed. The moon, half full and painfully white cast a scattered glow on the Autobots as they transformed, more visible in the light of each other's headlights and glowing eyes than of the moon.
Then they transformed again, all four of them, huge frames shifting only slightly. Sam's eyes went wide as the almost-familiar tires and car emblems and panels and decorations melted and blended, colors and shapes blurring and blending until they looked nothing like what Sergeant Epps had described as 'car origami', though they still looked like themselves.
It took Sam a moment to realize that this was the way they were supposed to look.
"Bumblebee," Optimus Prime said, his voice a strange blend of happy and sad. "Sing us to our new home."
Sing?
Bumblebee looked up at his leader in surprise. "Optimus?"
"You know Earth better than any of us," Ratchet said. "It is only fair that this planet hears your song first."
"Introduce us," Ironhide added. "Let Earth know we're here."
Bumblebee looked between each of them, then nodded once. He settled himself, looking out over the desert, then raised his head and let out a long trill. The noise skirled up into the night, faint echoes bouncing off of boulders and flat bands of shale. Bumblebee glanced back at Ratchet, and got a nod in return. Looking more nervous than Sam had ever seen, he turned back to the desert and lifted his head again.
It was unlike any song Sam had ever heard. He'd heard their speech, the scrabbling electronic noise like modems talking to each other. This was both like and not like that sound; longer tones, sharp dips and spikes in pitch, a low warbling undertone like a whale's song tying it together. Sam stared, transfixed, and he jumped and almost tumbled himself off his boulder when another voice joined in.
Ratchet, he figured out. Not as high-pitched as Bumblebee, more fluid and rolling, like comparing a trilling flute to a clarinet. Ironhide next, lower still, a powerful thrum that chased the other two through the pitches. Optimus last, a deep bass throbbing between the others, marking the beat in a rhythm quite unlike anything Sam had ever heard. They sang together, a weird melody that went up, down, up again, and it sounded almost like a choir practicing the scales before a show, the singers getting used to each other and their venue before starting the real performance.
The impression was deepened when they stopped and looked at each other again. Ironhide said something in Cybertronian and the others nodded, and Bumblebee glanced back at Sam with a smile before turning back towards the empty desert.
Sam hugged his knees, the cold forgotten, sleep long gone, as he watched the metallic beings weave a song through the night.