5

Hours dragged on, torturously for Bumblebee. He had survived the trial well enough, but this was more than he could take. He didn't bother checking his internal clock, already knowing he was far past due for a hit. He sat at the end of a long table in the court district, a lawyer at his side. On the far end of the table sat Knockout, with the District Official standing over his shoulder. Bumblebee's servos trembled on the table as the level of morphite in his system dropped, and he moved his servos to his lap when he saw the Doctor staring at them. His red optics turned up to meet Bumblebee's.

The lawyer was jabbering away and Bumblebee could barely hear him anymore, he was so overwhelmed. He stared at the ceiling, unable to ignore the throbbing in his damaged hip.

"Commander?" the lawyer spoke up.

"'Mmh, what?'

The lawyer looked up at the district official and back to Bumblebee. "This is a serious situation, Commander. The Terms of Agreement must be hashed out in order for the Decepticon to be released into your custody. If you're unfit too…"

'I'm fit,' Bumblebee said, glancing across the table to Knockout. The medic hadn't looked away yet, and hadn't spoken once without being prompted.

"As I was saying," the lawyer continued, "Do you agree never to remove the transformation-inhibiting collar under pain of treason charges?"

Bumblebee nodded.

"You must agree aloud, Commander."

'Yes.'

"And do you agree never to let him out of your residence unsupervised?"

'Yes.'

"Under no circumstances is your ward to be allowed access to peripheral weaponry, and any personal collection you own must be code-locked."

'Fine.'

"Commander?"

'Yes,' Bumblebee corrected with irritation.

"As specified by the Anti-slavery laws, do you hereby swear never to require the prisoner to do any labor whatsoever, both physically and intellectually?'

'Yes.'

The lawyer turned to Knockout. "And do you, Knockout, willingly agree to offer medical services necessary to maintain Commander Bumblebee's health and wellness?"

"Yes."

"Do you understand that you are in no way obligated to perform any other tasks outside of your area of expertise?"

"Yes. Question…"

"What is it?" the lawyer asked, looking irritated.

"Some of the tools necessary to maintain Bumblebee's health-"

"That's /Commander/ Bumblebee," the District Official said, laying a servo firmly on Knockout's shoulder.

Knockout rolled his optics. "Some of the tools could be considered potential weapons. I have permission to use them?"

The Lawyer and the District Official exchanged glances and the Official turned to Bumblebee. "Commander, are you truly comfortable allowing a Decepticon to lay dangerous tools against you? You can back out of this, you know."

Bumblebee's thoughts had returned to the pain and he fought back the urge to tell him he'd sign anything blindfolded to get out of the room quicker.

'It's fine,' he said in a low beep.

After a few seconds of silence the lawyer spoke. "Moving on, and I apologize in advance for the question, Commander. I'm required to ask under the Anti-slavery law. Do you understand that it is expressly forbidden for you to require your ward to perform sexual favors of any kind?"

Bumblebee's optics brightened, irising inward with mortification. He couldn't help glancing at Knockout. 'O-Of course not.'

Knockout watched him with darkened optics, his expression unreadable.

"Please rephrase your answer, Commander," the lawyer said gently.

'I understand.'

A glint of humor passed over the Decepticon's features and Bumblebee had to look away.

"And here we have a data pad listing prohibited and allowable forms of corporal punishment. You can read through it at home."

After the last few documents were read through and signed by both Bumblebee and Knockout, the medic was officially released into Bumblebee's custody. Blades drove them back in Bumblebee's personal shuttle, with the prisoner forbidden to transform and the Commander too disabled to do so anymore. The drive was silent, Blades at the wheel and Bumblebee looking out the passenger window. He glanced at the rear view camera and saw Knockout leaning against the window, optics closed and expression smoothed with recharge.

xxxx

Soon they had reached the apartment complex, a chrome, slightly curved structure overlooking New Iacon Park. The park itself was a maze of statues and geometric structures from both new artists and from those whose work had endured the war.

Bumblebee stared ahead with dread at the crowd gathered at the door of the complex. The door mech and valet were shouting at them to clear out, but they were unrelenting, and seemed to come alive at the sight of Bumblebee's shuttle.

Bee opened his door, breaking the sound dampener and letting in the angry protests of the crowd. Blades gasped. "Wait! Sir, we have to plan this out! You can't just…"

Bumblebee got out and slammed the door, opening the back and waiting for Knockout to exit, wrists still bound behind him.

"Rust in the pits, you scrap metal!" one of the mechs shouted.

"Get out of our neighborhood! You don't belong!"

Knockout chuckled, looking from the crowd to Bumblebee. "My welcoming committee?"

Before Bumblebee could answer, a metal pipe flew from the crowd, hitting him on the back of the helm and clattering to the ground. He fell forward, vocoder screeching at the impact on his hip. 'Oh fff…!'

"You're a slagging traitor!" one of the mechs shouted. Knockout's optics widened, and Bumblebee knew that the Decepticon had figured out who they were actually shouting at.

Blades hurried over to them, quick to grab the pipe and hold it up, fearlessly swinging at the much larger pack of angry mechs. "Go away!" he shouted, "Have a little respect for a veteran!"

"A pathetic excuse for one!" someone snapped back.

Bumblebee had covered his face, unable to compose himself through the pain. Knockout stood, helplessly bound as Blades came to his side. He dropped the pipe and helped Bumblebee to slowly rise to his pedes. The con followed behind them as they went through the door, the valet taking charge of the shuttle when they were gone.

In the elevator Knockout turned to Blades. "Would you kindly un-cuff me now?"

"Don't talk to me," the mech responded as he looked away, trying to keep space between them in the small space.

"You'll need to un-cuff me eventually," Knockout said.

'Just do it, Blades,' Bumblebee murmured in a low beep, his back to them as he stood facing the door.

After reaching the top floor, Bumblebee limped through the apartment and entered his bedroom, and Blades entered his own room and slammed the door. Knockout looked around at the large living room and the tall windows looking down on the garden. He turned to Bee's opened door, taking it as an invitation.

"Feel better?" he asked, sidling up to Bumblebee who sat on the edge of his berth. The Commander was injecting morphite into his hip.

'I'm not in the mood,' Bumblebee said as he retrieved another canister from the drawer.

"I wasn't offering," Knockout played, twisting his intention.

Bumblebee didn't answer, his focus elsewhere. He knew three doses together was potentially hazardous, but he could take the risk. He needed it now.

After the second injection and another canister in the gun, Knockout came closer. "Don't you think two is enough?" Bumblebee ignored him and Knockout grabbed the gun. They struggled and Bumblebee surprised him as he reached up, pulling Knockout down until he lay on top of him on the berth.

Knockout looked down at the other in shock, his composure lost for a moment as they lay there. He finally recovered, optics darkening as he tilted his helm to whisper in Bumblebee's audial. "You shouldn't take another."

Quickly while he was distracted, Bumblebee ripped the injection gun from Knockout's grasp and jabbed the needle into a thick fuel line in the Decepticon's neck. Knockout grunted, looking even more shocked this time before he fell unconscious. Morphite could do that sort of thing when injected into a core fuel line.

Bumblebee shoved him off and onto the floor. 'Fragger.' He took a third injection in his hip, then lay back and let the drug knock him out.

To be continued.