A/N: So I made the mistake today of watching the original Transformers Trilogy. In addition to nostalgia, !feels!, and a renewed hatred for Michael Bay, I was left with the squicky feeling I got after seeing Carly and Sam together. No offense to Rosie Huntington-Whitley as an actress, but I absolutely hated Carly. Then I remembered somewhere in my files was a Sam/Mikaela thing I'd written right after DotM came out, so I dusted it off. This is by far not my best writing, and some details may be wrong. But I desperately needed a fix-it!fic, so here's my take for the resolution I'll never get.

Cybertronians mated for life. Or, at least, that's what Sam had gathered from his conversation with Optimus. It had been about three months after the battle in Egypt, after the Fallen was defeated. After Mikaela had broken up with him, Sam had gone to N.E.S.T. to see Bumblebee, hoping that maybe some time with his old friend would lift his spirits. Optimus had seen him and they had chatted for a while before Optimus had asked the question that Sam knew many would repeat. "Where is Mikaela?"

Sam had sighed and proceeded to explain the situation to him. Optimus had listened silently, giving Sam the chance to vent before expressing his condolences. The look in Optimus's optics, however, had still been confused. When Sam had asked him about it, Optimus had proceeded to explain to him the reason behind his confusion. While he was certainly capable of understanding the customs and laws behind human relationships, he was quite unable to fathom them.

When Cybertronians spark-merged, they stayed that way until the death of one partner. It was an unbreakable bond, no doubt coded into their systems by Primus solely for the reason that they lived so long. While humans could have multiple partners in one lifetime, Cybertronians usually only had one…maybe two if tragedy struck. They had to be that way. If they were to live eons compared to other species, they needed to invest thought into such important decisions, to be wise. Optimus had chuckled grimly at the irony of that statement. They were meant to be guardians, to be wise…to be more. Yet they had failed miserably. They had been given paradise on Cybertron, yet they had felt the need to rip themselves… their world… to pieces.

Sam shook his head, bending down to inspect the damaged tire of the Hummer. Somehow during the last drill, the tire's alignment had been screwed up. So here he was, staring at her long black hair and waiting for her to notice him. Damn it! Why did Lennox have to send him to do this? Why of all the damn soldiers did it have to be him? Sam pulled nervously at the collar of his uniform and sighed.

After the events in Chicago, he had finally found his calling. Or, at least, his calling for the present. After the events of Chicago, Sam and Carly had spent a week resting at Diego Garcia. Ratchet had been insistent upon treating their wounds personally, even going so far as to begin cursing in Cybertronian when Director Galloway had objected. The fight had gotten louder and louder until finally a wrench had sailed past Galloway's head. That had ended the discussion rather quickly.

Sam and Carly had both laughed so hard they cried, even though they should have been mourning as the rest of the nation was. As he lay awake that night, Carly's head pillowed on his chest, Sam had decided that it was because of the stress of the last few days. He had seen things that no person should ever have to. In the week following Chicago, his dreams had been littered with visions of shattered bodies, crumbling buildings, dying Autobots, and Decepticon armadas flooding the skies. But they had also been filled with the rush of adrenaline, the need to run and fight, and the lust for revenge for all that the Decepticons had taken. Sam had awakened, sweat pouring down his face and back. He had slipped out of bed, careful to not wake Carly.

He had made his way out onto the tarmac, watching in the early lavender light as the soldiers began drilling. What would his life become now? He still had a job in the mailroom, or at least he thought he did. No doubt, Carly could find work quickly. But was it really what he wanted? To go back to such normalcy? Was it enough anymore?

One of the main things he had taken away from Chicago, perhaps the most important thing, was the feeling that he was needed again. That he was more than a messenger. That he was actually doing, fighting for, something. But now what? It was then Optimus had chosen to walk over beside him, silently watching the drills. "What will you do now?" the Prime had rumbled, staring down at his young friend.

"I don't know," Sam had shrugged, wishing that it were Bee's gaze instead of the older Prime. Maybe then it wouldn't feel quite so intense. "I can't imagine going back to the mailroom after all this." Prime had remained silent, his topaz optics merely analyzing Sam. Sam had begun to fidget uncomfortably under the intense gaze.

"In this last week, Sam, you have shown courage, valour, and surprising tenacity," Optimus had said, looking over at the soldiers going through their drills. "I would hate to think that such potential is wasted."

Sam had gone back to staring at the soldiers as well. "Optimus, you once told me that destiny calls upon us. Do you think we can ever do the same?"

The Prime had leaned down and poked Sam gently. "In this case, yes. You will make a fine soldier, Samuel."

So he had joined the Army. Bee had been ecstatic, happy that they would finally be able to spend more time together. His parents had been less enthused, but still proud. Carly…well, Carly had been shocked at first before quickly breaking down into tears. Honestly, how could he blame her? He had known how she felt about it, had known what happened to her brother; yet he had still enlisted. He had tried to comfort her, to tell her that he would be all right, that they could make it through this. She had looked up at him, her blue eyes full of tears, and smiled weakly. She loved him, she said, so they could try. She wanted to be with him.

They had, actually, lasted about six months after that. She had tried to be supportive, as much as she could while still mourning her brother. Now that Sam had a stable job, now that he didn't feel worthless anymore, he was more comfortable with being himself. They had grown closer since his temper had calmed, and Sam just knew that she was the one. Just like he also knew that every time he walked away, every time he put that uniform back on, a little part of her died.

And so they had parted ways. It had been amicable, at least. They both cared for the other…there were just issues that they couldn't overcome. He, for the foreseeable future, would need to feel needed. And she, probably forever, just couldn't deal with the possibility of his dying like her brother had. Sam loved her for her concern, for her kindness and patience; but he knew that it just couldn't work out. So, with a great deal of crying and a long kiss goodbye, they had parted ways.

Mikaela would have understood, a voice in the back of his mind whispered. She always understood. Sam shook his head again and punched the fully inflated tire. "Hey there, no need to get rough," her melodic voice scolded gently. Sam smiled sadly and turned his head to her. Her blue eyes widened and she took a step back. "Sam?" she croaked.

He stood and bit his lip, his eyes staring at the floor. Cybertronians mated for life. Apparently, he wasn't so different. He thought of her smile, her eyes, of the way she teased and laughed with him all those years ago. Things had been so much simpler back then. As he looked up into her eyes, he had a feeling very similar to when he'd held the Matrix in his hand, back when destiny was calling him. His heart was racing, his palms were sweating, his stomach was tied in knots, and she was the only thing in his mind. "Mikaela," he whispered softly, the name warming his lips once more.