May 19, 2005
Two weeks and it's done. It's finally done.
And I'm scared.
All the scenarios that run through my head are a pain in the ass, as I realize that I'm putting myself in stress. Exactly what Ratchet doesn't want.
I lay in my berth, staring at the metal ceiling while vaguely listening to the soft wails that come out of Bumblebees voice box, the mech haven't being able to cope with all of this.
'Hide though, he has literally disappeared. No one, not even Sideswipe—who literally dives underneath the Cybertronian floor, disappearing for days—has seen or heard of him.
Ratchet has mentioned several times that he may be feeling overwhelmed with the news, having been kept in the dark all these years of Primus and his sudden appearances. He also says that another factor is that since we've been together all these years—only being separated when Bee was old enough—he may have a strong guardian bond over me; preventing him from accepting that I need to be separated from him.
Another wail like whimper is heard throughout the room, I look to my right to find my little Bee hunched over his desk, trying to work on his guns that he—yet again—messed up during training.
I swing my legs to the side of the berth, placing them on the ground and successfully standing up. Walking over to him, I can only do so much as to prepare to see his face.
I climb to the top of the desk and look at him, my heart clenching at the sight.
His usual vibrant blue optics have a dark hue, his faceplate models a deep frown, and steady lines of Energon run from his optics down his cheek plates.
Yes, Cybertronians have adapted that kind of behavior from humans, they also cry. It usually happens when their processor is overcharged with downgrading information, which is almost never.
I walk up to him, as I lift a hand to his face, he dives away from my touch, a deep pain settling in my heart and knot on my stomach.
"Bee."
He wails at his nickname, more Energon spraying out.
"Sweetheart, look at me."
He does so and I can see everything in his optics. Fear, love, misery, abandonment, pain and betrayal.
I take his face in my hands and stare at his optics, his metallic brows furrowing at the notion. I concentrate and release a steady wave of energy to his face reaching up to his processor, sending large waves of love, compassion and strength. His optics change to a light red, the blue still underneath, letting me know that I'm doing my job to the best of my ability.
His wailing stops as well as the Energon tears, his 'breathing' more calm and collected. I let go of him, the red hue of my hands lingering a bit on him.
"You don't have to fear, my little sunshine. I'm always going to be in your spark. You know that."
He looks down at me, his look now troubled.
"Can't I come with you? To keep you safe? Or Uncle 'Hide? He's your guardian after all..."
I shake my head, his optics sharing a wild notion of rapid emotions.
"Sadly, it's just me. But don't worry love, I'm always gonna be here. Always."
He closes his optics but opens them quickly, optics changing colors every few seconds. He looks down at me and by his rigid pose, I can tell someone called.
"Optimus says it's time. They're in the tower."
He takes me in his servo and places me on his shoulder, his walk being slower than usual as if he's trying to delay getting to our destination. I grab one of his neck cables, getting closer to his helm and whispering sweet words of reassurance in Cybertronian, a few whines coming from him in the process.
For what feels like eternity, we go through metal doors, which are opened by two mechs whom I've meet a couple of times, Cliffjumper and Brawn. Both give me sympathetic smiles as I fix my eyes on the renewed space shuttle that awaits propped up on the launcher.
I try to contain myself at the sight.
The Triplets are standing beside each other, Arcee, being the sensitive one, crying her Energon out in the arms of Elita-1 while Chromia rubs her back.
Crosshairs' optics have a dark hue as he stares into the shuttle.
Jolts arms are crossed, a sympathetic and sad look on him.
Sideswipe and Sunstreaker are behind Crosshairs, the former looking straight up like he was beaten to the pulp, while the latter looks unusually bothered by his surroundings.
Jazz is looking at Optimus, maybe trying to understand what is going on by staring into his leaders spark.
Ratchet, in all the years that I've known him, has never looked this uncomfortable, bothered and sad.
Optimus stands tall beside the shuttle, a small gleam of frustration in his rigid stance. I know that he doesn't want me to go either, regardless from who the order comes from.
And as if it's an apparition, Ironhide is standing at the other side of the shuttle, not once looking up from his steady stare at the ground. I scowl a bit, half knowing and half not of what he thinks.
Like Bee, he wants to accompany me. But he can't. None of them can.
I'm settled on the ground by my son, his servo lightly shaking as he does so. I stare up into the Primes big optics, these ones immediately showing me how much he despises what he's doing. But then again, he can't do anything.
He places a knee on the ground, slightly bowing his head.
"It's time, my friend. Do take your time with your farewells."
I turn and walk over to the first mech I see close by.
"Be a good Lieutenant, will you Jazz? I don't want to hear Optimus complain about you slacking on the job."
He chuckles, a glimpse of a smile on his dermas.
"Will do, 'lil lady. Will do."
I walk over to the next.
"Come on Ars, Doc Bot will have your aft if you run out of fuel."
She clean her faceplate as best as possible, Elita, sensing her sisters distress, perks up with a small smile.
"We'll make sure that won't happen, dear."
I pass over to the next, the three mechs keeping their optics glued on me.
"Crosshairs, for the love of Primus, regardless of what you see, do not shoot them. Sides and Sunny might not be the brightest duo, but they're my little mischievous brothers."
Sunstreaker rolls his optics while giving a sad scoff, his twin places his servo on his shoulder, a wide smile taking place.
"We promise to not get our sparks ripped out by this one, sis."
The Autobot Sharpshooter glares at the young mech, this one cowering behind his brother.
I walk up to Jolt next, the big mech going down on one knee and looking over to me.
"Jolt, I owe you, big time. You were more than a teacher, but a friend. Thank you, truly."
He grins widely at my fluent Cybertronian, his ego probably getting a bit to high.
"I'm glad I was able to be of service, madam."
With pain in my chest, I walk over to Ironhide. The Weapon Specialist ignoring my every move but crouching down since he knows it's his turn.
His optics are almost completely black, the blue lively color completely being vanished.
"'Hide, thank you. For all these years. For the fun. For taking care of me. For distracting me when I was down. For being my pillar in my darkest hours. For being my friend. For being my family. For being my guardian."
He brings his face closer to me, I spread my arms wide open, hugging him as best as I can, fresh tears rolling down my cheeks and landing on the cold metal of the ground. I can hear how his spark thrums wildly in its chamber, meaning that the poor mech is feeling pain.
"For being my everything."
He vents and closes his optics, the thrum of his spark now even louder.
"You taught me how to grow. How to be a better mech. How to be better in my job. How to be better with everyone, with myself. It's thanks to you that I've learned the significance and responsibility of being a guardian, a good one at that. I promise, on my spark, that I will find you. Everything will go back to the way it was—that is supposed to be—. You have my word."
I let go of him and watch as his a bit of Energon drips from his optics. A sad frown on his face. I painfully move up to Bumblebee.
My little mech.
He avoids my gaze as he starts to 'breathe' erratically, fresh and new Energom tears rolling down. He tries to avoid the sympathetic look that his leader gives him, trying to stay strong. But nothing can prepare him for the horrid thoughts that run through his processor, new images of everything that can happen to his carrier on this far planet called Earth striking him deep in his spark.
I do the same thing again, implanting waves of energy in his processor by taking his face in my hands. He calms down significantly and stares down at me.
"Carrier... don't go, please."
It's the broken please that strikes a nerve in me, a river of tears escaping me now. I gently stroke his faceplate, the energy from my hands coming in heavy reassurance to the teenage mech.
"My little boy. We will see each other again, huh. We will, don't worry. How about this, you listen to Optimus, you do everything he says and you become one within the Autobots, then you and 'Hide can come visit."
He wails desperately loud, doing just like Ironhide and getting his face close to me. I hug him as tight and strong as I can, making sure I glance over at Ratchet, the old medic nods, knowing what to do to help the Scout with this emotional turmoil later on.
I let go of him and place a kiss on his forehead, where the Autobot symbol will be displayed once he graduates the Cybertronian Army Academy.
I move up next towards the medic, the old bot giving me the ghost of a smile.
"Aira, you will do great things. Not only with these abilities but with your presence alone. I'm glad to say I was wrong about you, you really are one of us, an Autobot by spark. I'm proud of you, kid."
I chuckle slightly, his sudden mood change from I'll-stick-a-wrench-up-your-fat-ass to I'll-miss-you-and-your-chaos-around-my-lab.
"Don't get soft on me, Doc. Prime might get jealous."
The Autobot leader chuckles lightly while Ratchet rolls his optics dramatically and shakes his head.
Lastly, I stand in front of the Cybertronian legend. The Prime stares down at me, a sad glint in his optics that says more than words ever could. He kneels and places a scrawny digit in my hair, tussling it up like any annoying brother would. I playfully slap it away, staring up at the giant gentle mech.
"I'm forever grateful for your presence in Cybertron, Aira. You changed all of us, and that, we won't forget. We can only hope this may not be the last time we see each other."
My heart clenches painfully in my chest, my brothers words echoing deep in my brain.
"Let's do hope for that now. You guide all of these lives to glory, Optimus. Especially my little mech, he deserves the world and everything."
He smiles as at me and stands upright again, turning to address the others.
"This day is a painful one. But who are we without pain once in our lifetime?. Our human will depart towards her first home, but as painful as it might sound, know that the mark that her presence will leave here will never vanish. Earth is where she might have been created, but Cybertron will forever be her true home."
Bumblebee wails more at his leaders words. I see how Ironhide walks towards the teen, kneeling and placing both his servos on his shoulders, his dermas move slowly, probably whispering words of reassurance.
Ratchet stares at the Scout a bit longer than expected, shaking his head at the sight.
Not wanting to cry more, I start walking over to the shuttle, skillfully climbing the ladder that takes me to the top, where a door awaits, this one made purely by Optimus' servos.
With one last look at everybot, I climb down settling one the only seats that the leader left for me, knowing well that having the other seats will not do any good.
The door closes and a loud hiss comes from the lid being locked, I get ready for the journey, one that I'll never be able to toss into the trash like my last space shuttle trip.
The last time I was in here, I landed on this planet, not knowing if I ever had a way back home.
Now I'm here again, this time going back to the place that's not home. And without a safe ticket back.
I notice I've lost track of time as the towers pod repulsers send me fly into deep space again. A new set of hot tears invade my face as the blackness revolves around me.
After what seems like minutes, a scratchy sound takes over the cabin, startling the crap out of me.
"Aira, just to let you know, Bumblebee has been placed in a forced stasis-lock. He was too distraught and as a result, attacked Optimus. Not to worry, he understands the Scout, he'll be safe. Him and Ironhide both. I'll make sure of it. Good luck out there, femme. Kick some aft!. This is Autobot Medic Ratchet, signing off."
3rd Point Of View
The group of Autobots watch with shocked and sadden optics the limp form of their youngest member sprawled on the ground, optics black and unmoving. The hand of the medic hovers over the back of the Scouts neck cables, having prodded them to make him go down.
He knew he would have to do this, just not so early and neither did he thought that the mech would be so strong, agile and fast. A quick glance at his old friend and leader makes him breathe in relief, the Prime nodding slightly to reassure his friend that his health is alright.
Truth be known, the Prime was slightly afraid of his apprentice. The wild look in his suddenly turned red-as-Decepticon-optics being saved and stored forever in his processor.
As the Prime starts walking inside the tower, everyone follows suit, not wanting to disrupt the medic that is currently carrying the emotionally affected bot.
But the lone figure of the Weapon Specialist remains unmoving. His emotions scarred by his close friends departure.
His spark clenches at the dot in the sky that is now the shuttle. The shuttle that took his entertainment away, the shuttle that makes him feel miserable.
The shuttle that gave him life and has now taken it away.
Why?. Is the current answer that drills within him.
Why did she had to go?.
Why so soon?.
Why couldn't he or her sparkling go?.
Why didn't he say all the things he wanted to scream out?.
Why? Why? Why?
He painfully sighs, longing and desperation settling in his very core. A jumble of Cybertronian words exit his intake. To any other bot, it would've sounded like he had too much Energon to drink, but only he knew what was said, and he also knew that that word would never fit in quite right. Not to anyone's audio receptors.
"I'll find you, sweetspark. I will."
To him it sound so wrong, but feels strangely right.