AN~ Oooo…transformers! Robots in disguise. Transformers! Hope this doesn't burn your eyes!!!

I tried.

Story by: Berouge. Directed by: Berouge. Characters by: Berou- HASBRO!

True Moxy!

Ink it.

"Is this really necessary?" Major William Lennox drawled, uninterested from his slouched position in the 'patients' chair. He had better things to do than decipher shapes in formless blobs of ink in order to determine if he was damaged or not.

Sighing quietly, the Military issued psychologist shifted his grasp on the ink sheets so he could push his black rimmed glasses back up his crooked nose. "We've discussed this already, Major Lennox, and for the third time, your superiors deemed it prudent for everyone from Egypt to go through this. If you have objections, I suggested you contact one of them. So until then," Shifting another ink splattered card to the forefront. "Tell me what comes to your mind first." He invited encouragingly.

Grunting in resignation, Lennox rested his head against his fist as he eyeballed the black mass of blotches. "Air Balloons."

"Good. How about this one?"

"Clouds."

"Alright. This one?"

"A chicken."

"And this one?"

"A fluffy kitten being smashed by a man in a top hat."

The good doctor was not amused. "Major Lennox, would you prefer me to inform the Brass of your insubordination to a direct set of orders?"

Lennox frowned "What if that's the first thing that came to my mind?"

"Then, Major, I shall see you again tomorrow for another hour session." Pushing his glasses back up his nose, the older man leveled the solider with a critical eye. "You might not be stable enough for my taste to be around such…unscrupulous individuals as those robot creatures."

"Did the ink stains tell you that?" Lennox muttered, unimpressed with the mediocre threat about his psychological health around the autobots. When you've been nearly blown off the atomic blip screen by hostile alien invaders hell bent on destroying all you hold dear, a pushy guy with a Ph.D is nothing on your professional resume.

"Really now Major Lennox, aren't we a little old to be bickering like this?" the annoying man countered with raised brows.

"What can I say; I'm a kid at heart." Lennox rallied back. Standing to his feet, the Major straightened his fatigues before continuing to address the scowling psychologist, "Thank you for your mental diagnoses, Doc, but I have things that need my immediate attention and I've put them off long enough."

Resigning to the Major's will, the older gentlemen jotted a few quick notes down on his tablet before unfolding to his feet as well. "So be it, Major." Extending a green leaflet of paper to the solider, the psychologist continued "I'll expect you tomorrow at ten hundred hours for a continual of today's session."

"What? The Brass only said for a diagnoses checkup; as in one session!" Lennox balked at the prospect of another hour being wasted with this irritating touchy-feely guy.

"IF the patient checked out as 'stable.'" The psychologist pushed the paper on the protesting soldier. "Really now, Major Lennox, it's just another therapy session. I'm not asking for your soul."

"It this really necessary?" Lennox growled out as he was all but pushed towards the metal door.

"Yes!" the response was tossed at him before the door was practically slammed in his face. Huffing angrily at having to return tomorrow for another pointless hour, Lennox crumpled the green leaflet in his fist.

Turning on his heal, the Major stormed off down the metal hallway toward the mess hall. That stupid session had saddled up close enough to lunch that he figured all those 'things that needed his immediate attention' could wait a while longer so he could grab a bite to eat.

Turning down another hallway, the Major had to pause to get his bearings before continuing on in what he faintly figured to be the right direction. He didn't care much for air craft carriers; they were too big, and cramped for his taste. An oxymoron if he ever saw one, the ship was a ridiculous maze of interconnecting hallways that never seemed to end. The eerie echo of water against the hull didn't help his nerves any either.

Coming to a cross roads, Lennox gazed down both directions before glancing about for a sign, or a road map that could help lead him to the mess hall.

A2DECK- A5DECK ACC336, was stamped on the wall unhelpfully beside him so he just meandered left and hoped for the best.

A pair of air force MPs had come for him in his quarters as he was going over N.E.S.T reports and preparing his debrief in order to take him to Doc Touchy-feely for his military issued mental examination. Having only been on the carrier for less than two days, Lennox hadn't had a lot of time for exploring with all the people, reports and just general tasks he had to organize and look after. Not to mention he had been checking up on the autobot leader almost every hour.

Optimus Prime had been in desperate need for a stasis recharge, so once he'd been loaded into the ships' cargo hold, the large mech had powered down to 'sleep' in his rig form and been that way ever since. Ratchet had taken up a spot directly next to Optimus and had wired the big blue mech up with cords directly connected to medic's own internal systems.

"To keep an eye on his progress at a more intense level." The hummer had explained. "Just a precaution."

Lennox hadn't bought the 'just a precaution' statement, and nether had anyone who had been present for the resurrection of the autobot leader. Ratchet and the other 'bots were worried, and therefore, their human comrades were too.

So he figured he could be excused for not paying attention to his location, though he was pretty positive that his former drill sergeants and special operations instructors would have something to say about his slacking behavior. He mentally snorted at the thought. None of them had thirty foot tall alien robots who liked getting into trouble as friends.

Coming to a second intersection, he took another stab at determining his location, before giving up as easily before and randomly picked a corridor. Besides, he thought he recognized that non-descript water pipe back there on the wall. Oh well, he'd eventually get it right, or find an air force lackey to show him the way.

That is to say, if the entire crew on the ship weren't trying to get a peek at the autobot team back in the cargo bay. If that were the case, he was on his own. As the random thought traveled through his brain, Lennox began to frown a little more; the autobots weren't an exhibit to be gawked at. All he needed was trigger-happy Ironhide getting irritated enough to level his canon threateningly at the air force to increase his paperwork load in the reckless endangerment department. He already had a stack over two feet and wasn't looking for a reason to add to it.

Searching around for his cell phone, the Major flipped it open and found his master sergeant, Robert Epps' extension before hitting dial.

"Yes, Major?" Epps answered after one ring.

"Bobby-boy! I need you to reinforce our quarantine zone around our big friends. Double the parameter to fifty feet and make it essential personnel only. I don't want the autobots being disturbed by gaping air force groupies. Especially Optimus and Ironhide." Lennox ordered crisply. He paused in thought for a second then added, "Mostly Ironhide."

"Understood. Consider it done." The sergeant stated. "Speaking of essential personnel, where the hell have you been?"

"I had a therapy session with Doctor Touchy-feely. He says I'm unstable and need more time with ink smudges and air balloons or some crap." Lennox grumbled. "Personally, I want that hour and a half of my life back."

"Ink smudges and air balloons?"

"Don't ask." Lennox looked down another passageway as he listened to the sound of Epps laughing at him. "Oh, shut up. You're next in line for the pointless cry session, so I wouldn't be giggling."

"Well, shit."

"That's what I said." Pausing in the middle of the metal corridor, the major looked back over his shoulder at basically same view he in front of him. "Hey, Bobby? How the hell do I find the exit?"

Sam Witwicky lay slumped over the lunch table as he half listened to Simmons and Leo duke it out in pure, ultra-nerd fashion over some issue concerning the movie Men in Black and it's relevancy to their current situation.

"Is there a special unit that deals with extra terrestrials like MIB?" Leo probed as he shoveled another forkful of spaghetti into is mouth.

Simmons leveled a deadpanned stare at the college student before sniffing importantly. "S7 had been. I'd imagine they've assembled another group to take up where we were forced to leave off."

"What about MIB HQ? Is like, area 51 your MIB headquarters?"

"Area 51 is just a testing facility for new weapons that the government wants to keep people like you, from posting all the countries' military secrets ONLINE for the world to see!" shaking a finger, Simmons continued to lecture. "Besides, those dopes in that movie were sloppy a good portion of the time."

"Like how!?! Since my dealings with aliens I KNOW it's harder than it looks!!" Leo snipped as he loaded his garlic bread up with sauce.

"Because an uncorrupted government wouldn't willingly allow aliens to run rampant all over the country. No matter how 'good' they say they are." the former sector seven operative stated bitterly.

Sam couldn't stand it anymore. "Simmons? They saved all our lives on more than ONE occasion. So stop whining would you!"

Simmons cocked his head in the Sams irritated direction. "And by the way, it's mostly your fault!" he accused murderously.

"How was the All Spark landing here on Earth, my fault?" Sam grumped. "I wasn't part of the genius group to hide that cube as well as the most deadly alien robot ever to step foot on this planet from our own military!!"

"Wait, don't try and change the subject!" Leo argued, managing to include himself in on Simmons scowl.

Simmons leveled a frosty glare at both boys. "For the protection of the people of America and Earth, did we not release the presence of the spark and N.E.B 1s' existence to the public. We couldn't risk someone spilling that knowledge to the ignorant masses. It would have been a complete disaster! People panic if there's going to be a snow storm, for Christ's sake! Can you imagine what their reaction would have been to rumors that we are holding a giant, potentially hostile, alien robot captive?"

"The people have the right to know!" Leo declared as he jabbed a fork in Simmons direction.

Sam said nothing. He wasn't as idealistic as Leo apparently was in regards to what 'the people had the right' to know or not. On this issue, he agreed with the former S7 operative.

"Pfft! The 'people' are a giant pain in the freaking ass! No doubt there would be a media swarm, the demanding of questions answered, protests." Simmons returned to his mashed potatoes. "Hell, there probably would have been a couple of stupid hippy protestors demanding we release, or protect, that crazy non-biologic. I wonder what the government is doing now in order to cover up this mess?" He mused out loud.

"You're still withholding people's rights! They were-" Sam interrupted his former roommate before he could finish.

"He's right, Leo." Sam stated quietly. "In this case, it was better the public didn't know."

"What!?" Leo snapped. He couldn't understand why Sam had flip-flopped to Simmons side!

"You forget that I was there when you first encountered a Decepticon." Sam looked the annoyed computer wiz in the eye. "After the initial shock of seeing one wore off, you had several panic attacks for days. Imagine millions of people doing that all over the place!"

Leo snapped his jaw shut and swallowed all objections he had at the ready, a look of intense pain on his face at the mention of less than suave moments.

"So the kid has finally learned some subtlety." Simmons sounded surprised as he swirled a dollop of butter into his potatoes.

Sam sighed, and rested his head on his folded arms. Arguing with the former secret agent wasn't in the cards today; he was still too exhausted from Egypt to fight his side. Lucky for him, Mikaela sauntered up in time to hear Simmons last comment.

"Knock it off, Simmons. Sam restored some of your former 'glory' or whatever it was you said you'd lost since the last time we saw you. You should be thanking him!" Swinging only one leg over the bench seat next to Sam, Mikaela plopped down. "How are you feeling?" She asked softly, brushing his bangs away from his still marred face as he turned his head to the side so he could smile at her.

Her heart pulsed painfully as she took in his ragged appearance. His skin was a little more pail then the tanned color she was used to and flecked with dark splotchy bruises. He was sporting two very fetching bags under his eyes, and when he moved, it looked to be a real effort not to groan in discomfort. Still, she reasoned rationally to herself, it was better to have him alive, damaged and fixable, then lifelessly laying in the ships morgue.

Slamming that current thought to a sudden stop, Mikaela forced herself to focus on his quiet response. The 'what if' scenarios that raced around her head endlessly were better left until she was alone, or she'd be a crying mess in no time, and Sam didn't need to see that.

"I'm alright, just a little tired." He murmured to her reassuringly. "How's your side?" He asked as he sat up a little straighter and gazed at the right half of her body where she'd taken a pretty big fall after jumping off a roof to escape one of the Decepticons. He knew it to be rather painful, even if she never uttered a complaint.

"It's nothing compared to what happened to you." She brushed it off without a second thought. Leaning in, she snaked a hand around his bicep and leaned into his shoulder, never breaking eye contact. "You sure you're alright?"

"I'm a little sore and my left nut aches from where your forehead smashed it, but I'm fine other than that. Thank you for asking!" Leo interrupted from across the table.

Sam jerked back to reality at the snarky comment and watched Mikaela take a vicious swipe at Leo's laughing face.

"You smashed his nuts with your forehead…?" he asked bewilderedly as he stared down into Mikaela's fuming face.

"Sounds like trouble in paradise to me." Simmons deadpanned from behind his hot roast beef sandwich.

"Uggh, no way." Mikaela balked at the suggestion of her and Leo together in any way. Turning back to peep up at Sam, who was patiently waiting for an answer to his previous question, she reached out and grasped his bandaged right hand where it had been burned and fractured at the same time her apparent head butting incident had taken place. "When that geriatric autobot/decepticon what's-his-face did that…instant teleportation thing, I landed on Leos' crotch." She explained. "But don't be too put out, feel happy for him because it's probably the most action he's ever seen." She finished with a beady glare at Leo's protesting figure.

Simmons choked on his sandwich as he laughed while Sam turned his head away so Leo couldn't see his amused grin.

Before Leo could defend his wounded male pride, Major Lennox and Sergeant Epps blazed into the mess hall, bickering loud enough to for most of the room to glance in their direction. Catching Sam's eye, the two military men made straight for the college boy savior and his crew.

"Hey Major Lennox, Sgt. Epps" Sam greeted warmly to the two as they came within sensible hearing range in the crowed mess hall.

"Hey Wonder Boy, how's the body feeling?" Lennox grinned back. He liked the Witwicky brat. The kid had spunk and a truck load of courage that probably saved all their skins.

"I can't really complain." Sam stated as he stood shakily to his feet to grasp the two men's hands.

"Can't complain!? You were literally blasted to kingdom come and back and you 'can't complain!'" Epps laughed almost disbelievingly while eyeballing Sam's fatigue driven tremors with concern, "Shit, Billy-bob. You need to take a few lessons from Sammy here. You bitch if you have to go to therapy for an extra hour. Oh! Pardon my flowery French, ma'am." He finished to a giggling Mikaela.

Lennox rolled his eyes before letting them come to rest on Simmons and Leo across the table. "Leo Spitz, you're up next with Doc Touchy-feely in fifteen minutes. Get a move on." He ordered jerking his thumb behind him. "Simmons? You're after Spitz at fourteen hundred hours."

"Doc Touchy-feely…?" Sam wondered curiously as Leo, grumbling the entire time, rose to his feet.

"Some military issued psychologist that everyone from Egypt has to go see to get a mental check-up evaluation thing, or something." The Major flippantly explained. "A2 deck, room 96, Leo." He rattled off as the computer tech slouched past.

"Our esteemed Major here is still considered unstable according to a few finger paintings." Epps added, snickering at Lennoxs' expense. "He has another session tomorrow."

Lennox swore under his breath, "A complete freaking waste of time if you ask me."

"Ah, now it can't be that bad." Epps consoled his agitated comrade, "If General Morshower thinks it's necessary, than it probably is."

"Morshower isn't the one having to waste his time sitting on that stupid couch imagining things in nonsensical ink smears." Lennox remarked bringing a clip board he'd carried in with him up from his side to check some tidbit of information. "Miss Banes, you and Wonder boy here are up for a check-up tomorrow with the good Doc at one o'clock. Wonder Boy, I want you to go see the SMO for a full physical check-up after you see Doc Touchy-feely. He's expecting you, so there's no chance of wiggling out of it."

"Again? But I've seen him four times since we got here two days ago!" Sam argued. "I'm not about to keel over and die! I just need some rest."

"Sorry, Sammy. Ratchet issued those particular orders concerning your medical examinations." Epps smiled unapologetically to the outraged teen. "He's keeping a close sensor on your health, and we agree with him. A person doesn't just flat line for over five minutes and come back completely unscathed. Even Optimus was wiped and he's like Superman."

"But I'm fine! I'm just really tired!" Sam tried futilely once more, knowing full well that come this time tomorrow, he'd be on that examination table, especially if Ratchet was eavesdropping on his personal health from somewhere and telling people about it.

Mikaela touched his arm and rubbed circles into the sore limb. Her small comforting attempt worked and Sam sagged, loosing what little steam he had built up. Sitting back down on the bench, he rested his face exhaustedly in his hands.

"Maybe you should go take a nap or something, kid." Simmons remarked from behind him. "You look beat." He might not totally adore the teen like everyone else, but he held a certain grudging respect for anyone who could go toe to toe with him in regards to those non-biologics lurking down in the cargo hold.

Sam just sighed before lifting his head back up. "Sounds like a good idea. But first I want to go see how Optimus and 'Bee are doing." Heaving himself painfully back to his feet, he turned to Mikaela and offered her his arm. "Care to join me?"

Mikaela shook her head regretfully, "I need to go call my dad. He called a few minutes ago in a fit and my phone died in the middle of his worried yelling. I was heading up to the communication's tower on the bridge to see if I could just use their phone." Lowering her voice a little to the Major and Sergeant didn't over hear her as they pestered Simmons. "Also so I don't have to pay for the call."

Sam chuckled softly to her as she rose up on her toes to peck his mouth with a kiss. "You little criminal." He teased.

"Stuff it, Witwicky." She crooned back, her eyes shifting from sultry to worry as she felt his trembling form under her hands. "Maybe I should go with you. Dad knows I'm alright. He just wants to vent his anger about being helpless to protect me. He can wait a bit longer."

Sam gently disentangled their hands, and stepped back from her, "Go call your dad, Mikaela. I'll be alright." At her disbelieving gaze, he stepped back in and kissed her forehead before whispering for her ears only, "I won't leave you again."

Her sky blue eyes became misty as she blinked rapidly to make the sting go away. She would not cry!

Sam then stated in a louder voice, "I'll be going back to my room for a nap after I visit the autobots. Come see me when you're through. I'll need rescuing if mom and dad are down there."

Lennox had been secretly spying on the exchange between the young couple and decided to ease Mikaela's worry some. "I'll go with you, Sam. I haven't had a chance to pop in and see how Big Blue's doing." Turning back to Epps who was preparing to hit up the lunch line for some grub "Get me the finalization form to the parameter change and personnel access to the cargo hold when you're finished, Sergeant. I want Wonder Boy and Miss Banes at the top of that list for full access." If he sounded more official, maybe Epps wouldn't slack off over the paper work, even if the order was already cycling the through the ranks.

"Sir, yes sir." Epps responded lazily before he meandered off in search of something to eat.

"Parameter changes…?" Mikaela voiced what Sam had been thinking.

Lowering his voice so only Sam, Mikaela and Simmons if he chose to, could hear his explanation. "I don't want the air force underlings sniffing around and disturbing the autobots, especially Optimus and Ironhide. All I need is for that big canon getting all vexed at someone and having a mountain of 'endangerment' paper work being dumped on my desk."

"A valid concern, Major." Simmons commented blandly halfway through his lemon custard.

The cargo hold was a monstrosity of a hanger that was utilized primarily to store the jets that weren't being used. The Captain of the U.S.S. George H. W. Bush (CVN-77) had been gracious enough to move nearly all the jets to the landing deck, therefore grounding all departing and in bound craft.

The large side doors where the giant elevators that lifted and shuffled the jets about from the cargo hold to the landing deck, where left wide open so the gusty sea breeze could blow through the belly of the ship while simultaneously giving Ironhide ample view of the sky's incase of a sneak attack.

The autobots were spread out all over the place when Sam and Major Lennox emerged from the elevators. To Sam, it truly looked like a truck-stop of really expensive vehicles of all makes and models. Ironhide was slowly making rounds in his gleaming black Topkick form, while Bumblebee's Camaro and the twins' Trax and Beat were parked at one of the giant bay doors 'staring' out at the Indian Ocean.

The other autobots were scattered about but Sam forgot about them and zeroed in on Optimus and Ratchet as soon as he located the Big Rig and the smaller rescue Hummer sitting quietly towards the center of giant hanger.

Setting off at a brisk, if not wobbly walk towards the two large vehicles with Lennox on his heals, Sams' gaze scoured the Peterbilts' unusual decals; taking in the jagged holes that ripped the platting and the dents the pock marked the hood and sides. Sam cringed as he once again perused the cracked windshield and twisted exhaust stacks.

Stumbling to an unsteady stop, Sam huffed like he'd run up a flight of stairs, and as he moved closer, the two trucks swam in his vision. Closing his eyes to try and ground himself, he opened them just in time to see that Optimus had moved from twenty feet back, to just in front of him. When did he do that?

Surprised sucked Sam's breathe from his lungs as he used the Rigs' grill to steady himself against. "Optimus…how are…you doing?" He panted, closing his eyes to keep them from swirling and tossing everything around him about. He felt ill and achy, and was pretty sure he'd broken out in a sweat. To make the moment even more embarrassing, he couldn't seem to get enough air. Was he that out of shape?

"I should be asking you that question, Sam. You are not well." The deep basso of Optimus Prime's impressive voice rumbled worriedly over him.

"I'm okay, Optimus. Just a little on the fritz." Sam wheezed up to the large truck.

Ratchet was before Sam in a second, tracing him with both red and green laser beams. "I swear to Primus, Samuel, you are testing my patience with your reckless behavior!" He growled threateningly as he eyed Sams' stats as they uploaded.

"Sorry." Sam wheezed, from his slouched position on Optimus' front bumper plate.

"Aw, lay off Ratchet." Lennox spoke up as he slipped an arm around the teenaged boy to help steady him on his feet.

Revving his engine in what both humans took to be an expression of agitation, Ratchet cussed in Cybertronian like a champion before popping a side compartment open. "Your spark was mildly damaged and is therefore, tender." Lurching to the side on his great shocks, a small, white bottle fell from the open compartment only to be swatted towards the guys by the closing door. "Take two and get some rest before I put you out of your misery myself." The healer ordered.

"Yes doctor." Sam mumbled, embarrassedly.

Optimus rumbled comfortingly behind the downtrodden teen which caused Sam to look back up at the trucks' cracked windshield. Even though he couldn't see any sign of it, Sam had the distinct feeling that Optimus was getting the exact same treatment from their local medic as he was. Apparently even the leader of the autobots wasn't immune from the prickly doctors' anger.

Ratchet was still grouching under his breath at the stupidity of everyone around him in regards to their state of health (or lack there of in Sam and Optimus' case) as he rolled off to check on the status of the Triplet motorcycles: Arcee, Chromia and Moonstreaker, who had been heavily damaged by Megatron.

"Poor 'bot is going to have gray hairs and wrinkles if he doesn't loosen up." Lennox remarked before turning back to hail jovially up at Optimus. "So, Big Blue, how are you feeling?"

"Doing as well as expected. As you can see, I'm in excellent, if not diplomatic, hands." The autobot leader stated, gently ribbing on Ratchets' control freak personality. "I just came out of stasis not more than an hour ago."

Sam reached out and lightly touched a jagged tear in the decorative grill of the truck. "Will this…heal?" He asked. It seemed like a crime to see a great heroic personality like Optimus Prime in such a pitiful state.

The truck shifted its weight slowly from tire to tire, "Some of it will. Our metal and internal systems have remarkable healing and regenerative capabilities." The big engine under the dented hood goosed a little, almost like a cough.

"Well whatever you can't patch up yourself, Ratchet and I will find a way to get you back to your pretty little self." Lennox offered optimistically. He knew the autobots took great care of their appearance in their alternate vehicle modes as soldiers did in their dress uniforms. They had the parts back at Diego Garcia, and if the autobots needed special supplies, than by God Lennox would get it for them.

Sam starred gloomily at his own battered reflection in the dull metal before him. "Do not trouble yourself with my outward appearance, Sam. Thanks to you, I'm lucky to even be here." Optimus cajoled the troubled teen.

"Failure wasn't an option!" an unfamiliar voice announced from behind Sam and Lennox. Turning slightly, Sams' camaro was parked in such a way that the front grill gave the impression of a cheesy grin. "No problem." A woman's voice this time, barked from the yellow vehicle.

Sams' face split into a large smile as he hobbled over to greet his guardian. "Hey, 'Bee." Patting the hood like an old friend, Sam felt a mild charge under his fingers that left his hand feeling tingly; an autobot 'hug' Mikaela had called it. "How are you doing?"

An electrical sounding whine coupled with a rocking motion gave the impression of dancing- normal, happy, healthy Bumblebee behavior if his antics were ever to be cataloged.

"Glad to hear it." Sam laughed, as the Tom Petty's "I won't back down' blasted from the camaros' speakers.

"Those are some pretty wicked moves, 'Bee. Maybe you could teach Epps how to dance so next time we all aren't tortured watching him when he tries too." Lennox suggested, snickering good naturedly as the camaros' tailgate popped back and forth saucily.

"Bumblebee! Stop that this instant before you rupture your NEWLY REPARED rear energon lines or I'll pop your tires!" the unmistakable bellow of Ratchet across the hanger had 'Bee flattening himself to the floor.

"What's got the Hatchets' hydraulics in such a twist?" The massive form of Ironhides' Topkick asked as he rolled up next to the still pan caked camaro.

"Mildly damaged robots doing things other than sitting still and quietly recuperating." Lennox answered as Optimus gave a muted chuckle so as to not alert the furious medic to his mirth, less it bring the others' wrath down upon his head.

"So what else is new with that glitched medical menace?" Ironhide had barely enough time to transform and dodge the large wrench that was flung at him. "You wanna go?!" And with that, Ironhide launched himself across the hanger towards the waiting transformed medic.

Lennox laughed as Optimus released a great sigh from his vents. "You'd never guess that they were anything but sparklings by the way they act sometimes."

"I would think you wouldn't want to pick a fight with the only guy who can fix you and knows your insides better than you do." Lennox watched as Ironhide attempted to put Ratchet in a head lock, only to be kicked in the aft for all his trouble.

Sam felt the concrete floor under his feet tremble slightly as the two big mechs shoved and pulled each other about the hanger with autobots scattering to get out of their way.

"Shouldn't we attempt to separate them?" He asked leaning back against Bumblebees side door. He was exhausted just watching them.

"Nah, let them tussle it out." Lennox waved a hand in front of his face, as if swatting away an imaginary fly. "Clears bad blood."

"Ratchet has been under a lot of stress lately with all of us injured and in need of medical supervision. He takes his responsibilities very seriously and considers it a personal offense when we are damaged in combat. Ironhide usually volunteers to help Ratchet let off steam, much to the latter's chagrin I'd imagine." Optimus explained as Ratchet tackled Ironhide around the waste. The unexpected sound of the weapon specialist laughing seemed to relax Sam's tense muscles.

The loud echoing beep of the intercom went near unnoticed in the fray, but the blaring voice of the Captain of the Air Force demanding an explanation had Lennox dashing feverishly towards the elevators' intercom system, in hopes that the distance would dampen the sounds of fighting (and the colorful swear words being spouted off by both warriors.)

Sam once again resumed his shaky position on his feet, patted 'Bee one more time and said his good byes with a promise to stop by later.

"Get some rest, Sam." Optimus ordered kindly to the boy.

Bumblebee clicked and hooted in agreement before following Sam to the elevator doors to see him off.

"I'll be back, 'Bee." Sam said as the doors closed on the yellow camaro.

The walk to his quarters had drained Sam to the point where he could barely lift his feet. He desperately needed a nap, and hoped, albeit guiltily, that his parents weren't waiting to coddle him.

They'd been terrified back in Egypt, when Sam had demanded for them to let him go, to let him finish what he'd started. They'd fought him as he pulled away, his father insisting that they all leave together, and his mother pleading with his father to trust him.

He heard their screaming as he was lifted of his feat by an explosion. Darkness left him with the image of their horrified faces burned into his memory.

When he'd stumbled back to them and a sobbing Mikaela as Optimus left to engage the Fallen in battle, they'd latched onto him in silent disbelief that he was alive. He'd felt a deep regret at having worried all of them lodge itself in his heart. Making them angry was okay. Worrying them was not, but unfortunately, it was unavoidable now that it had been revealed that he was destined to aid the Autobot's cause all along.

His father had yelled and cried; his mother had been mostly silent as she sobbed into his shirt. "No sacrifice, no victory, dad. I have to do this." He pleaded with them to understand his decision, to support him.

In the end, they'd relented only because Optimus, 'Bee, Ratchet and Ironhide had each stepped up and swore to his parents that they'd protect him. He was considered one of their own, with the only difference being he wore no autobot insignia (though Ironhide had offered to burn one onto his forehead for him.)

Sam sincerely hoped he was kidding.

Turning the last corner that led him down the hallway to his quarters, Sam slowed as he listened for any sign of his parents lurking near by. Coming to his tiny cabin, he still heard nothing so he opened the door to peak in and found, to his quiet relief, that his parents weren't camped out his bed waiting for him.

Slipping in and shutting the door behind him with a near silent click, he shimmied out of his loaned military trousers and pulled his shirt over his head. Dropping it to the floor with his pants, Sam pulled a pair of sweat pants out from the small stack of borrowed clothing on his desk. Dry swallowing two of the pills that Ratchet had flung at him, he hit the lights, climbed into his cot-like bed, and crunched the pillow up under his head.

Letting out a relieved sigh, the last thing he remembered was Mikaela slipping in to join him before he dropped off into welcomed darkness with her snuggled up against his side.