Promise Not to Tell summary: Bee had been harboring a secret for as long as he’s existed and Bee stresses HE. The problem is that with the Allspark gone his race is as good as extinct … save for a little secret of Bee’s that he’s willing to do almost anything to keep. Sadly, Sam isn’t as good at keeping secrets as he is finding them.

Disclaimer: Hasbro curse you for your ingenious idea! I want the autobots to be mine so I could spoil them and give them stupid pet names, but alas they are not. (Sobs uncontrollably in a corner) … Also don’t own any of the radio talk ‘Bee uses throughout the story.

Rated: Teen.

Chapter 1: Little Secrets

XXX

‘Bee was scared of his fellow soldiers, his companions, and his brothers in arms. He wasn’t scared of them, in a general sense, but what would happen if they ever found out about his little secret …

A secret he had bore in silence since the day his creator grabbed him by his wrist and dragged him into her workshop. Yes, Bee’s creator, and first caretaker, had been a femme bot, and a very strong one at that. She was known for her mechanical brilliance. Well, that’s what Bumblebee remembered her for. Every one else remembered her because she was one of the last femme bots in existence; Megatron had made sure of that.

And why were femme bots so dangerous to Megatron’s cause, one might ask? Well, first of all, a being must understand something … a femme bot was an extension for the Allspark, in a way. Yet, femmes really weren’t that different from the rest of the Cybertronians. However, when a femme’s spark had been created, it had been blessed with a larger fraction of the Allspark’s power, allowing her the ability to create a new spark, much like the Allspark itself. When it came straight down to it, that’s all that femmes had that was really different from their counterparts, except for one external detail; the almost human-like bosom that femmes had worn on their chassis. That was just an added detail after a transformer was found to be blessed, so the being could be easily recognized.

The thing was that, unfortunately, Megatron found that information to be offensive. What was the point of destroying an Autobot, when another could be created and take its place? True, the Allspark did the same thing, but the trick with the Allspark was that it had no allegiances. When a new Cybertronian was created, it chose to be either a Decepticon or an Autobot. The thing with femme-created Cybertronians was that most femmes were on the Autobot side, so, subsequently, their creations were, as well. One day, in Megatron’s sick CPU, he decided that it was time to end the Autobots’ naturally born recruits. Whoever owned the Allspark ruled … no shades of gray. Thus began his cold campaign to genocide the entire femme population. Neither be it known to the Autobots, nor the Decepticons, that the femmes had tried to save themselves, and not just act like damsels in distress. Let’s just say that Optimus’s story about the Allspark being lost wasn’t entirely true; it was more like, “misplaced” by a few femmes who were hoping that its disappearance would end this genocide. However, this action was a little too late. Simply stated, Megatron succeeded on this one aspect of the war…

...well, almost.

Bee looked down at his flat chassis. Thank Primus for his creator’s workshop…

…but curse the Allspark for its mockery in making him this way.

XXX

Sam wasn’t a genius on any account, but you just learn things about people that don’t need words to be expressed. One of those things, that didn’t need to be expressed, was Bumblebee’s distaste for Ratchet’s naggings on checkups, and other such medical procedures. Rather than let Ratchet touch him, the little guy practically tried to weld on his own legs. Of course, he later lost in this predicament when Optimus put his huge metal foot down telling ‘Bee to stop his squirming, and allow the medic to do his job. That wasn’t the only instance, of course, that led Sam to this conclusion… What about ‘Bee’s vocal processors? The human had recalled hearing Ratchet grumble that he was sick of Bumblebee’s radio talk, and that Bumblebee should just let him open his chassis and insert a new vocal processor. Yes, it would be surgery, but, of course, the camaro wouldn’t allow it. Bumblebee said he wanted to keep his original voice, and that it was healing just fine.

Ironhide merely laughed at the medic’s complaints, stating, ‘You know ‘Bee’s a coward when it comes to medical anything, Ratchet … so jus’ give up.’

Now Sam, being a hater of needles himself, understood the whole phobia of pain, but the longer he was friends with Bumblebee, the more apparent it became that pain wasn’t the issue. The little bot had a thing about getting dents and gashes in his paintjob, which were always laughed off. These types of dents would, of course, lead to another fiasco of Bumblebee running away from Ratchet. This, of course, happened that night at the lookout, and Optimus had put his huge metal foot down … again.

“Epppppppp! Oh my god it’s … it’s HORRIBLE! EKKKKKKKKKK!” Bee’s radio blasted an old horror movie scene from some forgotten classic. Ratchet merely glared up at his patient as he worked on the huge dent in his leg.

“How did you get this again?” growled Ratchet, as he reconnected a loose wire. It always surprised him how still Bumblebee was when he did get the rare occasion to work on him. If it wasn’t the pain that bothered ‘Bee, then why did he always struggle? Bumblebee really didn’t believe Ironhide’s lie about Ratchet turning a Cybertronian into a microwave when he squirmed on the operation table, did he?

“Dude lets catch a wave – duck Double 007, the bullet…”

A quick slam to the back of Bumblebee’s head from Ratchet made the movie surfing stop. “Speak! I’m in no mood to do any deciphering.”

“It was a … screech,” the young Autobot grabbed at his throat, noting that he wasn’t going to say anymore.

Ratchet allowed an almost human-like sigh to escape him as he looked over at the teenage human, who was leaning against the tree, playing with his Ipod. “Sam Witwicky,” Ratchet said, “care to elaborate?”

The human looked up at the huge metallic being for a moment, a dazed look on his face. Out of all the Autobots, it was taking Ratchet the longest to understand human customs. “Oh … it was Miles again. He crashed his moped into Bumblebee in the parking lot.”

Ratchet and the rest of Autobots sighed. “You must inform your ‘pal’ that he must stop injuring my fellow soldiers,” Ratchet hissed, “I’m growing tired of removing Miles shaped indentions from Bumblebee’s armor.”

Sam merely chuckled, “I’ll do that Ratch’ … as soon as I tell him that my car is a giant transforming robot in disguise. I’m kinda taking my time. The last thing I need is Miles freaking out again, thinking that his new master and enslaver is a giant alien robot overlord. I mean, last time I just hinted, and he came up with this whole conspiracy theory. He wasn’t that far off, if you put into account that Megatron would have to have won.”

The medic nodded. He remembered the day when Sam had brought Miles up to the outlook to meet his new friends. He had only started to explain and was trying to smoothly ease his human companion into the truth, when Miles took over, going into a slight hysteria. Ratchet would have complemented the human for catching on so quickly, but the human was already halfway down the road, screaming something about getting supplies ready for the apocalypse. “And how fast was Bumblebee going?”

Another chuckle escaped Sam as he allowed his body to flop in the grass. “That’s the beauty of it … Bee was parked.”

Ratchet shook his head. “I don’t see the humor in this situation, Sam.”

“Oh, if you were there, you would have laughed … I mean, ‘Bee might have whimpered some coming up here, but he was laughing most of the time.”

Bumblebee merely chuckled, sending his hand back to his throat as he flinched in pain. Ratchet dropped his tools and glared at the yellow bot. “That’s it … I’m replacing that vocal processor if I have to wrestle you to the ground and make Ironhide sit on you.”

Bumblebee’s humor was quickly gone. “No,” he stated dully.

Ratchet stood up quickly and shook his hands, dancing on his feet much like a boxer would. “Alright Bumblebee, I’m sick and tired of your bloody phobia of medial operations. If I have to wrestle it out of you, so be it.”

Bumblebee blinked his optics in an ‘as-if’ way, but he went stiff, nonetheless. If Ratchet got a good look at the spark hidden underneath his chassis armor, that would be the end of his few century-old secret. The smaller Autobot, of course, didn’t get to dwell on this very long when he found himself ducking from one of Ratchet’s fists… this wasn’t good. Yah, Bumblebee could hold his own, despite the size difference, but if there was one thing he learned in keeping his secret from every medic he encountered, it was that medics always got what they wanted.

A gruff laugh escaped Ironhide, from the sidelines, as the two Autobots took their stances to start their duel. Every circuit jumped with determination in winning this sparing match, yet ‘Bee had never had a real sparring match with Ratchet, EVER! The medic was, generally, always too busy with his work to be bothered with such things. Now, if this had been Ironhide, ‘Bee would be rather sure that he might be able to win. Despite his heavy weaponry, Ironhide had a few weak spots in his armor. Like when you picked behind his left knee plating in the exact right way, he’d go down fast and hard … and probably stay that way. The camaro rather doubted that Ratchet would have such a simple, as the humans would say, ‘Achilles heel,’ though.

Ratchet made a quick swipe at the back of Bee’s legs with his foot, tripping the younger bot. Bumblebee merely twisted, doing a backwards jump, thus rolling on his shoulder, and coming to a low defensive pose. The medic grinned, slowly circling the still ‘Bee, as he looked for a weak spot that could easily be attacked.

The smile continued to hold on the medic’s face. This was going to be a short sparring match, indeed, if he could just get the youngling out of his kneeling position and to his feet. He might have to take a hit or two, but if he managed to get the kid down, a dent or two would be worth it.

Bumblebee tried to keep calm as Ratchet circled around him for the second time. He had a sickening smile on his face plates… Now was officially the time to panic! You see, it’s a medic’s job to find and correct weak spots on his fellow bots’ armor … and Bee stressed the word, ‘find.’ That smile could only mean one thing; Ratchet had found ‘Bee’s ‘Achilles heel.’ The yellow Cybertronian’s gears whizzed in a panicked way, as a small chuckle escaped his counterpart. Sam would forgive him for abandoning him while he went into hiding … wouldn’t he? The guardian threw his gaze to his charge; Sam was smiling as he listened to his Ipod, not even noticing that a sparring match had started. It might take some whining, but Sam would forgive him. Now, as soon as Ratchet got another thirty degrees to his left, he’d make a run for it… How far was Alaska again?

Ironhide saw Bee throw a quick glance at Sam. The Weapons Specialist shook his head. Bumblebee wouldn’t dare run from a sparring match … would he?

The question was quickly answered with a twisting of gears and the squealing of tires as the yellow camaro made a run for it. A surprised yelp escaped Ratchet when the yellow bot slammed past him… Of course, it wasn’t that easy. Ironhide had seen it coming and quickly stepped in front of the only exit, crossing his arms over his chest “You better not be runnin’ out of a sparring match, kid.”

‘Bee came to a halt, throwing dirt and grime all over the Weapons Specialist, as he slid to a dead stop. What? That was supposed to stop him? He wasn’t afraid to off road a little bit. The camaro made a quick turn on his wheels and slammed on the gas, only to let out a yelp of surprise, as someone latched onto the back of his bumper. Bumblebee only had enough time to catch Ratchet grinning, before he was flung over and into the air.

Out of desperation not to crush in his hood, or any other essential part due to a fall in car mode, ‘Bee transformed, sliding on his knees. He grimaced in pain at the action. Those leg joints were still sore. However, the poor ‘bot didn’t even have the time to whine about stiff hydraulics, when a fist whizzed into his shoulder plate, denting it slightly in the process. This action, of course, left wiring under Ratchet’s arm exposed. A quick fist to the wiring sent the medic back hissing. ‘Bee smiled as the other bot stumbled backwards. He then jumped to his feet, ready to shove the other to the ground, but that’s when he noticed that Ratchet was still smiling.

“It’s not that easy youngling.” The medic suddenly grabbed at the back of ‘Bee’s newly reassembled legs, sticking a finger beneath the plating, and sending the whole wiring into panicked shut down mode, which was a reaction to keep the legs from being damaged, since the wiring was still new. A howl of pain was the only sound that was allowed to escape the young bot, as his legs gave out, and he fell on his back.

The huge crash to the ground, and the screaming gears that went with it, suddenly sent Sam out of his relaxed state. The teenager quickly jumped to his feet, screaming, “The Decepticons! Duck and cover! Duck and cover!” The human looked around madly, expecting bombs, or something, to come whizzing his way. Instead, a soft chuckle floated through the air.

“Calm down kid … it is not Decepticons or any form of weapon, but he can be just as dangerous as all of those combined.” Sam merely blinked up at the Weapons Specialist, not getting the Autobot’s failed attempt at humor. “Ratchet,” Ironhide explained, “and, sadly, ‘Bee’s learning that the hard way.”

Sam’s brown eyes followed the mech’s pointing finger. There, sprawled out on the ground, whimpering, was Bumblebee, with a collection of dust settling around him. Ratchet stood above him with a grin that couldn’t be anything less than one of pure humor. The medic then grabbed his dropped scalpel off of the ground and walked back over to ‘Bee. Ratchet then sat on top of him, effectively pinning ‘Bee’s arms beneath his legs.

“O-kay,” slurred the human, as he stared at the scene with a look of pure confusion, “Is this normal, or should I be screaming rape or something?”

“No … Ratchet’s going to replace ‘Bee’s vocal processors. He had to wrestle him to the ground first, though,” chuckled Ironhide, as he watched with mild amusement.

“Huh … about time,” grumbled Sam as he flopped back into the grass. Now don’t get him wrong, Sam loved Bumblebee like a brother, a brother that was a few meters higher than him, mind you, but a brother nonetheless … and sometimes brothers needed to be punished. Let’s just say, radio talk could be misinterpreted, and recently, this type of misinterpretation pissed off Mikaela. She had thought ‘Bee wanted them to ‘do it’ in the back seat, but Bumblebee was just trying to tell her that she left her phone in the backseat and…

Yah, it just became a downward spiral from there. Mikaela still hadn’t spoken to Sam all this week because of that little fiasco.

As Ratchet settled himself on top or the other bot, straddling him, he crossed his arms over his chassis, saying, “Well, well, well. It seems I’ve caught myself a Bumblebee. Now let’s get a look under that chassis of yours and end this stupid mockery you dare to call a vocal processor.”

‘Bee froze for a moment as he stared at the grin on Ratchet’s face…

Is that what he, soon to be dubbed ‘she’, had to look forward to each night for the next millennia? Being forced onto her back, as a different mech would grin down at her, that same egotistical filled grin on his face, as each one took his pleasure, claiming it was for the continuation of the species? Bumblebee was, on simplest accounts, a virgin, but that didn’t mean she didn’t hear what the older ‘bots would whisper during practice, about what each one would do to a femme if he had one alone for an evening. A panicked wheeze escaped Bumblebee as he struggled, kicked, wrenched, and hissed, trying to get himself away from the body atop him.

Ratchet was, at first, shocked by the desperation in ‘Bee’s reaction. It wasn’t as if he was going to operate while Bumblebee was still online. “Calm your circuits Bumblebee,” Ratchet said, “you won’t feel anything except for some soreness afterwards, but only for a few daily cycles. NOW STOP YOUR STRUGGLING! I can’t pop your chassis with the way you’re thrashing about! I might hit a sensory wire if you keep moving like this.”

Bumblebee’s thrashing started to grow slower as he was becoming worn down by the weight of the other mech, but his wailing grew ever louder, like someone was taking a rake across a collection of chalkboards.

“It’s a simple procedure ‘Bee,” Ratchet tried to explain, “It will take a human hour or two, tops, instead of the weeks it would take for me to slowly correct the damage to you existing voice processor. Now, please stop moving! You’re not going to get away. You’re merely overheating your circuits with this insanity.”

Bumblebee was quickly getting tired from his screaming, thrashing, and desperate need to escape. When fighting Decepticons, he paced himself, keeping his circuits at minimal temp. But, in this case, his pump was thrashing about in a panic, causing his circuits to overheat, thus quickly throwing his systems into exhaustion, even though he had optimal energy levels to fight for days.

Quickly, the panic was just too much; he couldn’t calm his circuits… Oh Primus! He couldn’t overheat, because then he’d be unable to keep Ratchet’s hands away from his chassis…

…away from his spark…

...away from his secret…

The medic ground himself a little bit deeper into the earth with his knees. True, the camaro’s circuits were overheating so, soon, he’d be unable to put up a struggle, but that really didn’t matter to Ratchet, at the moment. Why, exactly, was Bumblebee fighting so hard? Why was he so scared? Bumblebee had operations all the time, being the easy target he was. Was it because Ratchet’s hands would be close to his spark? “Bumblebee please calm yourself and tell me wants wrong,” Ratchet sounded concerned, “You know I would not harm…”

“RATCHET!”

The medic turned his attention away from the yellow bot below him, towards the direction of the voice. Sam had his hands over his ears and seemed to be wincing in pain. “Sam?”

The human hissed, throwing his head like a bull, before yelling, “I’m going deaf here man! If he can screech like that, his vocal processors are fine!”

“Agreed!” growled Ironhide, tapping the side of his head, off-lining his audio receptors. “Just hurry up and offline him before the humans notice.”

A whimpered wheeze escaped the yellow mech as he looked over at Ironhide. When his creator was destroyed, the old bot had practically raised him, and here he was, as the humans would say, “hanging him out to dry?” No! Please no! No, he didn’t want to carry sparklings until he finally died in a birthing. He didn’t want to be lovers with soldiers he had once called caretakers and fellow warriors. HE DIDN”T WANT TO BE THIS WAY! As Ratchet’s fingers drew towards the place in ‘Bee’s neck, which would offline him, one last agonizing cry of pure agony escaped the poor bot.

“Ratchet!”

A surprised yelp escaped the medic as he was pulled off of Bumblebee. Before Bumblebee knew what he was doing, he was hidden behind Ironhide, arms wrapped around his caretaker’s leg like he used to do as a child. The Weapons Specialist stared in shock at ‘Bee and then turned his attention to the medic, who was leaning against their Autobot commander, looking surprised.

“Um … yes Optimus?” stated Ratchet dully, as if nothing was going on.

“Soldier, what were you doing to Bumblebee and why did you find it necessary to inform every human in the general vicinity that you were doing it?” asked Optimus.

Optimus merely received a questioned look from his medic, as Ratchet pulled himself out of Optimus’s arms and to his feet, glaring the whole time at the yellow bot which was wrapped around Ironhide’s leg.

“By the time I had arrived,” Optimus continued, “there were at least half a dozen vehicles parked below the lookout, pointing, and wondering what the sound was. With the cries that were escaping ‘Bee’s vocal processors, I thought it was a Decepticon attack.” The commander sighed, and then continued in his story, “It took some convincing to get the humans to leave. Now Ratchet, I’m not one to question your mechanical expertise, but I must request that you look for a more suitable place to do surgery … perhaps one of the warehouses the government allowed us to have. There are no human residences nearby, so you can work in peace, as well as have a sterile environment.”

The medic nodded and gruffly answered, “Apologies Optimus. I was simply going to replace Bumblebee’s damaged vocal processor. I did not realize he’d be put in such a panic.”

Optimus stared at his medic for a moment and then threw his gaze at the scout, “Bumblebee front and center!”

Sam nodded to his guardian as the youngling reluctantly let go of Ironhide’s leg and stood in front of Optimus, his gaze to the ground as he hung his head in shame.

“I understand your fear of medical procedures, Bumblebee,” Optimus said to him, “but I solemnly swear that if you ever react that way towards Ratchet again, I’ll hold you down myself, even if you are kicking and screaming throughout the entire operation, without painkillers!”

A small whimper escaped the scout as he nodded his head solemnly.

“Good … now gather round soldiers. I have news for you all.” The Autobot leader nodded, once all of his soldiers had gathered around him, including Sam, who stood a few meters from Ironhide’s foot; he had long since gotten over getting stepped on phobia.

“I received another transmission from a fellow Autobot,” Optimus continued. There was a chorus of excitement from the other three as they drew closer to their commander, waiting for the good news. Once it has settled down, the blue Autobot spoke again, “It was Hound,” the Autobot leader put up a large hand before the group could become excited again, “I was able to transmit some news to him before his signal was broken off… I told him the Allspark is gone, along with Megatron.” The huge bot’s optics dimmed slightly. “He didn’t take the news of the Allspark’s destruction well … He said he needs some time to think on what we are to do now. I’m afraid he might do something rash in his misery.”

The joy that had filled all of the Autobots was suddenly dead. All of them held sad expressions across their faceplates and it did not escape Sam’s notice, despite how low he was. The human swallowed … what had he done? What had he done?!

“Optimus?” asked the human in a small voice, “Why was he so upset about the Allspark being destroyed? Isn’t it better than letting Megatron have it?”

All the Autobots turned their attention to Sam; the human had a look of horror on his face.

“Sam,” Optimus said softly, “no one is angry at you. If Megatron had gotten the Allspark, he would have destroyed the universe, if he were able. This fate, perhaps, is more fitting than the one Megatron had planned for our species.”

“Fate?” murmured Sam, still not getting it.

Ratchet swung his head and ran a finger over his chin plating, “You realize, of course, Sam, that new Cybertronians were created by the Allspark, right?”

“Yah … I kinda remember the whole Nokia trying to kill me,” Sam stated flatly. The Autobots all exchanged looks of confusion. None of them were there, so they had no idea what the teen was talking about. Sam shook his head, saying, “Never mind. Please talk now. Little lost here.”

The medic sighed as he said, “Sam … there is no Allspark, meaning there will never be another sparkling. There will be no more younglings … no more children, Sam. Once we are dead, our species is as good as extinct.”

It was like a slap to the face, and a whimper escaped Sam. What had he done! The species was going extinct because of him … He was a murderer. The teenager fell to his knees as he stared upwards at the four ‘bots. He wanted to cry, to scream and yell … but all he could do was look up at Optimus and whimper.

“Is there nothing we can do? There had to be something else then the Allspark, right? Didn’t you guys have females? Was there something else beside the Allspark … Maybe the Allspark had a brother! Please Optimus, I’ve already killed one of your kind, don’t make me be the hand that killed you all.” The Autobots were all silent as they stood above Sam, the shock evident on their facial plates.

“… please.”

Ironhide shifted his weight, “Calm down, kid, and yah, we did have something that would be compared to your females. They were called femme bots … prettiest things…”

“Megatron,” hissed Optimus as his optics narrowed. His fists clenched as the memories hit him. Whenever there was the mention of the femmes, he’d automatically picture the tyrant and what he did to the fair, lady bots.

Not knowing the story, of course, Sam took that statement all the wrong way, “What?! Megatron was a female?”

There was a shocked silence as all the transformers looked down at Sam in horror. Then, Bee broke into a shaken laughter, which was quickly followed by Ironhide, Ratchet, and finally, Optimus. The Autobot commander threw his head back, quaking with laughter. It was a strange buzzing noise and crunching of gears, but Sam knew it was a laugh, none the less.

“I sure hope not, Sam, cause then our femmes sure would have been ugly,” Ironhide continued in an amused tone.

Sam blushed, “Oh … I … um …”

The huge Autobot leader stopped his laughter and looked calmly down at the small being.

“Sam, blame not yourself,” Optimus said to him, “there is still hope for our kind. Femmes were smart creatures, smarter then most mechs, it seems. I’m sure some found a way to escape Megatron’s genocide.”

“Genocide?” whimpered Sam … God! He was so ignorant! The Autobots probably think him a fool for asking so many questions. Then again, how would he know anything about Giant Robot History 101?

Ironhide threw a quick glance at ‘Bee, waiting for him to offer some words to the explanation, or at least a sad song. The little bot did not say or do anything. He was staring at the ground, trying not to make optic contact with anyone.

“Well,” Ironhide continued, “being the slag-head he was, Megatron wanted to make sure whoever got the Allspark truly won the war. With femmes able to reproduce without the help of the Allspark, that plan was a total waste of time. So, he did something … disgusting! He ordered that every femme bot be destroyed.”

A surprised look filled Sam’s eyes, but he did not question as he turned his head towards Ratchet, ready for more.

The medic continued the story, “Even though I find Ironhide’s explanation accurate, a more precise explanation was that Megatron ordered his soldiers to kill every femme they could find. Yes, some Decepticons did revolt, saying it was wrong, but in Megatron’s optics, anyone who disagreed with him was as good as an Autobot. Thus, they were to be shot down like an Autobot… No Decepticons questioned him after that. We did are best to protect the femmes, but we received the information too late.”

A silence filled the area as the medic and the others hung their heads in the same depressed manner. It was Ironhide spoke up first, “Well, that was depressing.”

“Indeed,” Ratchet nodded his head solemnly, “Perhaps we should discuss something more time consuming, like deciding where to set up a base, so that I can put up a decent medical bay. I mean…”

Okay … conversation over, high time to hightail it out of here.

Slowly, ‘Bee started taking steps backwards, towards the left, where Sam was lost in Ratchet’s words. If he could just get to the human, he would be outta here and away from Ratchet’s fingers. He was positive that the medic would soon get on the subject of fixing ‘Bee’s vocal processors again, thus, Optimus would then put his huge metal foot down, and end this century-old charade of ‘hide-and-go-secret.’

Sam stood there, craning his neck backwards as he listened to Ratchet speak. He felt slightly queasy by how quickly the Autobots dismissed the discussion of their species’ extinction. He had a feeling they’d continue it later, when he was not around, thus sparing him any more guilt. The human jumped when he felt a cold finger run down his back. Sam quickly slapped the metal finger away, as violently as he could without hurting himself.

“Damn it, Bee, I’m trying to listen. You do realize my new hangout will be wherever you guys decide to put up shop, right?”

Prod… prod … poke … prod.

“‘Bee!” hissed Sam, as he looked over his shoulder at the smaller bot that was meticulously hidden behind Ironhide, whom didn’t even seem to notice he was being used as a visual shield from Ratchet.

The camaro’s optics seemed dim and weary, like he was afraid.

“What’s wrong, ‘Bee?” Sam murmured, a questioning look in his eye, “Not still afraid of Ratchet, are you?”

“There’s no place like home. There’s no place like home,” came the chime of Dorothy, from ‘The Wizard of Oz.’

Sam pulled his brow down in a questioning manner. Did ‘Bee really want to go home that badly? “Trying to hide from Ratchet?” continued the human, throwing a peek in the medic’s direction.

“Oh yes, very much so,” came the voice of the unforgettable child actor, known for her red curls … Sam couldn’t place her name, but his mom loved her.

“Optimus, I hope you’re willing to uphold your earlier statement about holding Bumblebee down,” Ratchet stated bitterly, as he looked towards Bumblebee, “hey, where did…”

A laugh echoed over the clearing as it became apparent that the conversation between the three older mechs had turned ‘Bee’s way.

“Ironhide,” purred Optimus, “it seems that ‘Bee has decided to use you as a living shield.”

The Weapon Specialist stared at Optimus in surprise for a moment, before he took a step to the side, revealing the younger mech to everyone. “Kid,” Ironhide churned to his stowaway, “I’m not Barricade, so find someone else to block you from sight.”

A nervous laugh escaped the little camaro as Ratchet continued, “As I was discussing with Prime, ‘Bee. You are to going to accompany me to one of these warehouses this evening. You’re not going to make Prime drag you, are you?” The medic scowled at the youngling, already knowing full well what the answer was.

‘Bee merely whimpered and threw a pleading gaze back at Sam. The teenager sighed … okay, fine. He’d give, but what was the point in delaying what was bound to happen? Sam hadn’t known Ratchet for that long, but he knew the medic usually got what he wanted, be it by threat with his scalpel or his wisdom.

“No Prime!” gulped Sam, all of the sudden, putting on his best acting face, “I need to get home … NOW!”

Optimus tilted his head in a very human-like manner. Sam wasn’t saving ‘Bee’s aft again, was he? Really, wasn’t it supposed to be the other way around, with ‘Bee being the guardian?

“Why Sam? If something urgent was happening, you should have informed us earlier.”

Sam swallowed; okay his acting skills were a bit rusty … since the second grade, “Um … that’s because … I just remembered.”

“Remembered what?” Ironhide grunted with a grin. Ah, this was a game which Will played with his femme, Sarah, all the time: let’s see who’ll win first; Ratchet, aka the wife, or Sam, aka the husband, who wants to sneak out with the guys for the evening.

The human gaped for a moment, like a fish, until he finally blurted out, “I FORGOT TO WATER THE PLANTS!”

The medic sighed, “I’m sure the vegetation in your residence can wait, Sam. ‘Bee’s processors need attention and it will only be a few short earth hours.”

Sam looked at the medic. Well, no one could say he hadn’t tried. He slowly turned his attention back to Bumblebee, ready to say, “Have fun ‘Bee,’” when he received a hard poke to the back of the shin, as if the ‘bot knew what he was thinking.

“DAMN IT ‘BEE! I should let Ratchet…” Sam trailed off as he realized that the mechs were all staring at him. “Um … I mean … NO! You don’t get it, Ratchet!” The teenager started throwing his arms madly into the air, emphasizing the seriousness that he was lying about, “I have to go now! Now! The plants, they’re dying! Dying! Oh my god, I can feel the oxygen decreasing in the atmosphere … cough, cough, wheeze … can’t … breath …” The human grabbed at his throat and slowly fell to his knees, panting and coughing the whole time, “No … too … beautiful … to … die.”

Ratchet was in a slight panic as he ran every known scan on the atmosphere around them. Yes, the oxygen levels were a little lower due to the height of the area, but it was a very acceptable amount for the human physiology. At least, he had thought it was. “Sam I don’t understand. The death of a few plants can’t really be causing this distress to you your body.”

“Cough … sputter … wheeze … yes, it is Ratchet … cough!”

Optimus’s leadership quickly kicked into high gear.

“Bumblebee!” he commanded. The little ‘bot stood up tall and proud, trying not to grin madly. “Take Sam home and remember to pull extra oxygen levels into your cab so that Sam does not suffocate. Move soldier, MOVE!”

‘Bee transformed and Sam quickly jumped in, noting that the air conditioning was set on high for an added effect, and then they were out of there. Sam burst out laughing as they drove towards home. “Oh my god … I can’t believe they actually fell for that.”

“Indeed,” croaked Bumblebee’s vocal processor.

The teenager swallowed his laughter and suddenly addressed the issue, “Bumblebee … why do you never let Ratchet operate on your chest? You let him near your legs and all that, but why not your chest? You don’t have a corpse or something in there, do you?”

“No Sam,” chirped ‘Bee … but he’d choose the corpse, any day, over the real truth.

“Okay … good, and ‘Bee?” the transformer quickly caught the lowered heartbeat of the human. “I’m sorry about destroying the Allspark. I’m so sorry for making you guys … you know … go extinct.”

‘Bee sighed, wishing he could pull right over and throw his chassis open, screaming at the human not to cry, because right in front of him was a femme. See! Their kind was going to survive.

… but he couldn’t. He just couldn’t. “Don’t cry my baby … the sun will rise in the morning.”

… but Sam still cried.

XXX

Will sat on the small deck in front of his house, nursing a lemonade, and cooing to Annabelle at his side, “Oh … who’s the most beautiful girl in the whole world?”

The little girl shrieked happily at her daddy’s tickling, kicking at his dancing fingers until he stopped. Once it was obvious that her daddy was done with the game, Annabelle then returned her attentive gaze to a firefly that was dancing in the evening air. Will chuckled at her curiosity and leaned back in his chair. And here, he thought watching Annabelle for a week, alone, was going to be hard while. Sarah was at her mother’s.

A sudden screech of tires informed the soldier that his metallic companion was heading his way. His daughter giggled, stating that she knew her big metal toy was coming home. However, Will noticed that something was very off. Dust clouds were billowing behind the Topkick, like he was being chased by the devil himself. Lennox swallowed and quickly ran into the house, grabbing his handy, dandy rocket launcher; child locks, of course.

Ironhide was halfway transformed as he slid to a halt in front of Will’s house, yelling, “Will!”

The human started turning around in circles, madly looking at the skies. Where were the Decepticons! There wasn’t one behind Ironhide, so it must mean he’s in the sky. “Where is he? Where is he? I’ll teach him for trying to disturb the peace of my home. Come out you Decepticon filth!”

The transformer gave the human a questioning look.

“There are no Decepticons, are there?” asked the human, dully, as he dropped the rocket launcher to his side.

“No, there is not, Will Lennox,” stated the metallic being in a hurried tone before continuing, “Have you watered your plants, Lennox?! Have you watered the plants like your femme said?!”

Lennox blinked once, getting more confused by the moment. What? Had Sarah threatened Ironhide’s motherboard if he didn’t make sure that Will watered the plants? “Um … no. I think the fern might be dead.”

A scream of agony escaped the huge bot as he fell to his knee’s, whimpering like a whipped dog. He kept whispering something like, “No. I’ve killed my human,” and, “I’ll never forgive myself for killing that tree,” as well as some whimpering about Sam Witwicky’s flowerbed.

The rocket launcher fell to the ground with a thud as Will stared in awe at the Weapon Specialist’s breakdown. What had Sarah threatened to do!

“Don’t worry, buddy! I’ll water the plants right now, okay? … and we’ll get a new fern tomorrow! Just calm down, calm down!”

XXX

Paw07: Arg! No! Get away you fiends! Away I say! Epp! … I hate plot bunnies. Anyway, here’s another brainchild from yours truly, and I know I already have other fics but the stupid plot bunnies wouldn’t SHUT UP! Oh, and this idea arose when I was skimming the Ninja Turtle section where I ran across Vashsunglasses’ story Cosmopolitan. So if this is messed up you have her to blame. (Point guilty finger at Vashsunglasses’) As usual, I also ask readers to respond if I should continue or scrap the idea. Also, damn you plot bunnies. (Swipes broom around madly as the plot bunnies continue to attack.)

Furthermore, apologies ahead of time for the few spelling errors and misspellings one may find in my writing. Practice makes perfect after all, but criticism is always welcome nonetheless. Like if you notice any recurring mistakes with a certain misused word or phrase please inform me. Criticism is useless if I don’t get any examples. Thanks a-max-a-million.

Edit: Criticism still welcome, but give hugs to my beta (at least for this chapter), Litahatchee, for all the mistakes that aren’t there.