Wow, I can't even tell you how excited I am to be back in this category : ) I've been doing more in assassin's creed. But now I'm back again :D with a new style. Tell me what you think- there's a poll on my profile, present vs. past tense. Love to hear what you think!

Enjoy!

o0o

When Sam wakes up, he has no idea where he is. There's just white, the ceiling and the walls and the sheets. There's a window, and the shades are drawn, but they look more like shutters, and there's a lock on them. (Weird thing number one). There are machines beeping at his bedside, and one looks like a heart monitor, making rhythmic beeping noises. It's too fast, though, about four times too fast. (Weird thing number two). There's also an IV stand, but the liquid inside it is a dark, metallic silver, nearly black. (Weird thing number three). Sam follows the tube that looks like a cable, down to his arm.

It takes about two seconds before he realizes he has no idea who he is, either.

The heart rate monitor starts beeping wildly, at least twice as fast as it's four-times-too-fast rate, and Sam spares a moment to wonder if he's going to die from his heart giving out, or from the fact that there's a metal panel in his arm.

Four seconds later, the door into the room opens and a man in a doctor's coat hurries over to his bedside.

"Calm down, Sam," he says, strangely metered tones, in Sam's opinion, seeing as there's hardware in flesh here. "You're perfectly okay. Relax."

"Do you see this?" Sam blurts, holding up his wrist. The doctor nods, smiles.

"Of course. I put that there." This placates Sam enough that the monitor slows back to its too-fast-sounding rhythm of before. Having been assured he's not on the brink of death, Sam turns his gaze from the doctor to the panel. It's replacing the skin of the inside of his wrist, an almost-black metal, and the IV is plugged into it. He turns his wrist slowly- it's not just on the inside, it's like his wrist has been taken away and replaced with-

"What's going on?" Sam chokes, closing his eyes so he can't see the metal.

"Do you remember?" the doctor says mildly, and Sam shakes his head no.

"Is there any more of- of that?" he manages.

"Some. Small skin grafts." The doctor says. Sam opens his eyes reluctantly to see the doctor point to his other arm, still beneath the sheets. Sam pushes himself up, draws his arm from the blankets. The back of his hand has a square of metal, and there's a strip up the inside of his wrist. "There's more, mostly on flat planes of skin. Your legs, back of your shoulders, some of your chest. Your wrist is the biggest section, for the intravenous access." Sam just nodes, feels faint. What is going on? he wants to beg this doctor who's acting like Sam knows this already, like Sam even knows where they are, like they've already met.

"But why?" he pleads, and that's when the doctor goes silent.

o0o

"Puh-lease?" Bee begs again, but the man in front of the door shakes his head no. Ironhide seemed to have crafted the image of his human holo with the intent of blocking doors in mind. Broad shoulders, defined arms crossed over his chest, stern face. He probably took a lesson or two in appearances from the military men they share this city with, what with his short, dark hair and ironed-looking clothes. Bee himself had no such example for his own human holo; in fact, Ironhide didn't have much of a choice in his, either, come to think of it. The holo program is an attempted projection of what they'd be like human; they can choose, but it feels unnatural. Ironhide's program guessed him to be older than Bee, more like Will's age, while Bee is closer to-

"Please!" he begs again, desperation racing, but Ironhide shakes his head no.

"You heard him."

"Yeah, I did. But. Please?"

"No."

"This isn't fair, Hide!" Bee looks up at the looming building Ironhide is blocking the entrance to; the hospital is one of the oldest structures in the city, first built, but first renovated each go-around. Bee has been assured of this countless times- it's the best, Ratchet is the best, he's going to be fine.

But it's been taking so long. So impossibly long. Bee had come to the brink of giving up exactly seventeen times, but he's never given up entirely, because despite all the hopelessness surrounding them, at the center of it, he's still here.

And then, this morning, sensors starting going off, sensors that hadn't been active in so long.

"Please, please, please, please," Bee whimpers, "I just-"

"You heard Ratchet," Ironhide says firmly, "wait. He's stabilizing." He gives Bee that look that's mirrored on so many faces so often: will you live to see him?

"But…" Bee exhales slowly, looks up at the blank face of the building again. He picks a window, decides that's the one. In reality, the room is changing as frequently as the procedures do, but right now, Bee decides to cling to the sight of that one. The blinds are closed, which makes it a possibility that it's the right room. The window is always closed, the shades always drawn, so he can't see the world outside. Bee can't see what's happening inside the rooms, he'd willingly trade this outside world for that one.

You can't, Ratchet has said frequently, you can't see him now. There were reasons, always reasons- infection, immune system, instability, the three I's, as Bee has come to call them, with their ghost fourth, I, I want to see him. Bee has been allowed in before, just not as frequently as he'd like. When he can, it's always silent and still. He'll just stand there for ages, and sometimes he talks, talks like someone is really listening, but sometimes, he can't say anything, sometimes he just cries.

"Please," Bee whimpers, and Ironhide goes to say no again, but pauses. Then he smiles, and Bee wants to sob from happiness; Ratchet has finally contacted Ironhide.

"Ratchet says you can," he informs Bee, and Bee's already up the stairs and halfway down the hallway before he hears Ironhide call, "for the love of Primus, Bee, just reform your holo in the room!" Bee ignores this, and sprints the last stretch of hallway to the fourth door from the end on the left. He pounces on the handle and yelps in pain when the door doesn't budge. Locked. Locked? What happened? What? his thoughts start howling, when Ratchet comm's him.

[Third floor, 319] Ratchet says, [and Bee-]

[There in a second,] Bee replies, and this time, forgoes all the running and just reforms his holo outside the correct door. This time, it gives easily.

"Sam!" Bee cries, ignoring whatever it is that Ratchet's trying to comm him. Sam looks so weak and small in the hospital bed, curls tousled and eyes confused, and it's such a relief to finally see him awake, finally-

"Who- uh-?" Sam stammers, and Bee hates himself for the worry that sneaks onto Sam's face. Bee freezes, three feet from Sam's bedside.

"You don't remember me," he stammers, looks to Ratchet, begging for him to make this right, because Sam can't have forgotten, he can't have. "But- you can't, you can't-" Bee whispers, but Sam just looks down. Bee knows this look, Sam's drowning himself in guilt right now, because he can't remember. Bee wants to comfort him, to assure him it's okay- but it's not, it's not, not at all.

Bee runs out of the room, and it's not until he hits the staircase that he remembers this is unnecessary, and he just dissolves his hologram so it's like he was never there at all.

In Sam's memory, he never was.

o0o

Hope everyone liked that :D

I hope to update soon.

Please review!

Love ya,

Sunshine