Archive of Our Own

“AAGH!” 

Bumblebee throws himself off his berth, slamming against the floor with a heavy clang. His vents are working overtime, cycling in his little chest in his panic. He snaps his optics side to side, making sure that no one else was in the room with him. Empty, like all the other times. Gritting his denta, he smacks a servo over his face. 

Stupid, slagging nightmares. 

Crawling back into his berth, Bumblebee stares up at the ceiling, trying to forget the thoughts plaguing his processor. A tall, dark figure, always standing by his berth before reaching towards his faceplates and cupping some clawed servo under his helm. There was always a light beaming down, bright red and focusing solely on Bumblebee. It would be the only thing he’d be able to see clearly. 

There was always dread threading through his circuits whenever the nightmares happened, like he was anticipating something horrible to occur at any moment. 

The strange figure would do nothing else, and Bumblebee wouldn’t be able to do anything no matter how much he inwardly screamed at himself to do something. He’d keep begging for himself to move until he forced himself to wake from the nightmare, almost always falling onto the floor in the process. 

He’d always wake up before anything else really happened.  

Bumblebee grimaces, tossing in his berth and trying to offline his optics. He hated how much these nightmares affected him, he wasn’t a sparkling anymore. He didn’t need to be comforted and cooed at just so he could get over something that his processor made up. 

“Frag it.” He sighs out, jumping out of his berth and giving up on his recharge. 

“Are you sure you’re alright, Bumblebee?” 

Optimus looks down at Bumblebee, his face shifting onto concern as he stares at the little yellow bot across from him. Bumblebee feels a heavy servo curl against his shoulder plate, reassuring and familiar. He returns the gaze, trying to ease the Prime with a simple raise of his dermas. 

“Yeah, Bossbot.” Bumblebee answers, almost wincing from the sheer insincerity in his voice. “Everything’s good.” 

There’s a disapproving look on Optimus then. Bumblebee knows how much he didn’t like being called ‘Bossbot’ especially since Optimus wasn’t really his boss, not anymore. 

It felt strange to be back here after spending so much time on Earth. He couldn’t remember when Cybertron went from being his home to this...unfamiliar place he could barely recognize. It didn’t help that everyone seemed to know him, though. It’s all because of the fact that he’d been under Optimus’ command and helped subdue the Decepticons. 

This place wasn’t like Earth, where he’d met his real friends and eventually family, or where he’d met Sari Sumdac and lived alongside the humans and adapted to their own brand of troubles. 

Even the apartment the Elite guard had given him felt cold and unwelcoming. It wasn’t filled with Bulkhead’s paintings, didn’t have that stupid tree Prowl seemed to care about so much, or even the messes that Sari would leave behind and Ratchet would have to chase after her around the base to make her clean it up. 

“Ratchet told me you haven’t been recharging all too well.” Optimus says suddenly, looking up from his energon cube. “Something you need to talk about?” 

Ratchet. That fragger...

Bumblebee groans. “He told you about that?” He says, annoyed and tapping his digits against the table. “I thought you’re supposed to keep that kinda stuff secret. Like, patient... confi — or whatever it’s called.” 

“Confidentiality.” Optimus corrects, taking a sip of his energon. “And, well, that’s true, but I was worried about you.” 

“Is that why you came to my apartment?” Bumblebee looks down at his cube, swirling the contents around. “Cause you were worried? Just that?” 

Optimus’ face falls, and Bumblebee feels the guilt instantly eat up at him. Everyone else had something going on for them on Cybertron, and yet Bumblebee could only ever handle things back on Earth, where it felt like everyone there actually needed him. Cybertron was where he’d failed getting into the Elite guard, and where everyone in the academy didn’t have any qualms with showing how much they didn’t want his presence, save for Bulkhead, of course. 

And there was the issue with what happened with Wasp— Primus, save him. 

“It’s not just that, Bumblebee.” Optimus says, shooting that awfully gentle look that Bumblebee almost hated more than getting yelled at. At least getting yelled at wasn’t confusing. “I can tell it’s been...hard for you, back here on Cybertron, it’s not like Earth—”

Bumblebee flops forward onto the table, pressing the front of his helm against it. “Yeah, that’s the issue, it’s not like Earth.” He grumbles, lifting his head up just enough so he could look at Optimus. “You and the others all have something to do here, I don’t. Bulkhead is busy being head of space bridge repair, I don’t see Ratchet much outside of needing to get checked up on, and you’re too busy being the face of the Autobots.” 

Realizing what he’d said, Bumblebee hides his face into the crook of his arm, letting out a vent of air. He could practically hear the gears turning in Optimus’ head, probably thinking how stupid he was being. 

He was being selfish, Bumblebee knew that. To wish so much that things were as it was before simply because— as horrible as it was to even think; easier when it was just him and the others fighting Decepticons. Staying on Earth was the closest that Bumblebee could get to those days, and even then, it just wasn’t the same. 

“I just...don’t really belong here.” Bumblebee says eventually, quiet and restrained. His words felt tight, like they coiled around his vents before he could force them out. “You all have your responsibilities on Cybertron, I don’t see why I can’t do the same thing on Earth.” 

Optimus sighs. “It’s home for you too, it always will be.” He reaches out and places a servo on Bumblebee’s helm. “You saved it together with the others, didn’t you?” 

Bumblebee leans out of the Prime’s touch, pressing against the seat with a huff. “Yeah, but I wasn’t thinking about Cybertron.” He says, a little too firmly than he even intended. “I was just thinking about protecting the people I cared about, there’s a difference.”  

There’s a coldness to Bumblebee’s words, and he can’t help it. He hadn’t thought much about Cybertron in a while, let alone how much he cared for it. It felt like an obligation to do so, because obviously he had the processor capacity to understand why it was so important. If they hadn’t won against the Decepticons, mechs would have gotten hurt, gotten killed. Innocent people beyond just the Elite guard. 

His friends would have been imprisoned, Earth would have been collateral in the Decepticons’ plans. 

Knowing that some of those things were more important to him than the others was enough to have another surge of guilt hit his spark. Yet, that didn’t make it any less true. 

“Oh, Bumblebee...” Bumblebee watches Optimus rise from his seat in the corner of his optics, and he doesn’t move away this time when the mech kneels by his side. Prime was tall enough that kneeling put him at the same height as Bumblebee, even when the yellow mech was sitting down. Bumblebee turns his helm to face the taller bot, optics refusing to meet. 

Optimus moves in, wrapping large servos around Bumblebee, practically engulfing his small frame. “I’m sorry.” Optimus mutters, his own helm resting against the smaller bot’s shoulder plate, he holds Bumblebee a little tighter. “I’ll make sure to see you again, while you’re still here.” 

There was a beat where Bumblebee freezes in Optimus’ grasp, plates tensing. It was exactly what he’d wanted, but it made his spark sink thinking that he’d practically guilt Prime into doing something because he was sad. 

He wanted to say no, that it was all too much, that Optimus shouldn’t bother considering how busy he probably was. But instead, Bumblebee leans into him, servos wrapping around Optimus’ shoulders and holding on tight. 

“Thanks, Bossbot.” 

There was nothing wrong with him. At least, that’s what Ratchet was saying. 

He’d been getting regular check-ups from the medic lately, ever since he came back. It was mostly to treat his lack of recharge and to beg the medic for anything that could knock him out and force him to shut his optics whenever the nightmares hit. 

Ratchet types into the datapad in his hands, his face scrunched up into a grimace. “I said there’s nothing wrong with you, kid.” He grumbles, his face softening as he sees the disappointment in Bumblebee’s face. “Look, this just isn’t my area of expertise, but what you need isn’t a medic.” 

Sitting up on the examination table, Bumblebee kicks his legs idly as he rests his helm on his servos. “I’m not gonna go spill my feelings over you, doc.” He says sharply before pointing an accusing digit at the medic. “Optimus knows. You snitched on me.” 

Something akin to annoyance flickers across Ratchet’s face, but it quickly melts down into one of deep understanding and almost pity. The medic lets out a soft groan, the usual harshness that Bumblebee knew him for was gone, replaced with a sort of compassion that was reserved for only the rarest of moments. Like when they’d come back to Cybertron after defeating the Decepticons, the weight of Prowl’s coffin heavy in Bumblebee’s servos. 

It had been one of the reasons he wanted to return back to Earth, he’d never said it out loud, of course. But he had a feeling the rest of the team knew either way. 

“There’s something you ain’t telling me, Bumblebee.” Ratchet sits beside him on the examination table, and Bumblebee almost instinctively leans against the familiar, solid presence. Despite Ratchet’s personality, he’d quickly become a figure of total safety and comfort in Bumblebee’s optics, beyond just a medic that was technically obligated to help him. 

Bumblebee debated whether or not he should talk about the nightmares, he’d confessed worse things to the medic. Drumming his digits against the table, Bumblebee opens his intake before closing it once more, trying to figure out how to word it to Ratchet. 

“Bumblebee.” Ratchet says, seeing the way the yellow bot struggled. “I’m not talking to you as a medic right now, okay? I’m talking to you as a friend, kid. A friend that wants to make sure you’re doing alright.” 

“I’ve been...” Shifting uncomfortably, Bumblebee covers his face with a servo. “I’ve been having nightmares ever since I came back.” Shame and regret immediately rushes inside of him, Bumblebee bites down onto his lower derma. He sounded like a stupid sparkling! What was he doing, bothering Ratchet over some nightmares? Immature and annoying, that’s what he was, dragging his friends so they could listen to him moan and complain—

Ratchet places a servo against Bumblebee’s back plates, steadying him and encouraging him to continue. It was a simple action, but it was enough for the younger mech to tear off the initial wave of embarrassment and finish what he started. 

“It’s always the same thing, over and over again, something looking over me while I lay down on my berth, sometimes it would touch my face. Nothing else ever happens, but I can’t help but feel terrified in it, even after I wake up.” His intake runs, letting out as much as he could as soon as the first words slip out. “I’m never able to recharge again, no matter how hard I try, I feel like it’s real.” 

His venting doubles in effort, and Bumblebee almost feels like he wants to crumple into himself and maybe just turn into rust. 

“You don’t feel safe here.” Ratchet says, breaking through the sounds of Bumblebee’s harsh venting. “Is that right, kid?” 

Bumblebee looks up at the medic, optics wide. “I don’t want to hate Cybertron, I want to care about it as much as the others do.” He takes in another bout of air, shuddering. “But whenever I think about it, it’s just all the same, what I did back at the academy, the incident with Wasp and...and—”

Realization dawns on both of the mechs. Ratchet’s servo curls closer around Bumblebee, like he wanted to hold the little bot closer against him. Bumblebee stares, not quite at Ratchet, but past him and right back into himself. Suddenly, the figure in his nightmares didn’t look unfamiliar and dark, but starkly clear in the middle of his thoughts. 

A silhouette made way to a tall, slender frame, painted with deep purple, and a single glowing red optic focused on him like spotlights. 

“Shockwave.” Ratchet mumbles. “You’re having nightmares about Shockwave.” 

Bumblebee scrambles to get off of the examination table, almost tripping over himself as he rushes to get out of the room. Ratchet tries to grab him, but Bumblebee slips out of the grasp just as quickly. “I have to go.” The yellow bot squeezes the words from between denta. He sprints out of the room, ignoring the medic as he calls out for him. 

The door slams shut behind him as Bumblebee runs, moving through the hallways. 

Optimus contacts him as soon as he arrives back in his apartment. 

“You shouldn’t have run out like that, Ratchet was worried.” Optimus says through the communicator, there was a slight scolding in his tone, but it was overall overshadowed by the apparent concern. “...are you okay, though?” 

Bumblebee hangs his head low. He didn’t even know if he was okay, but he had to say something to Optimus. “Yeah, I guess.” He says, not bothering to make himself sound convincing. His spark felt heavy, weighing down the rest of his frame and his mood even further. 

“How about this...” Something light tinges Optimus’ voice then, and Bumblebee perks his helm up. “I have a meeting with the intelligence division in a bit, after I’m done, we can meet up and maybe even call Bulkhead just to check how he’s doing.” There was a bit of silence, but Bumblebee couldn’t help but smile. Yeah, that did sound nice. “Is that okay with you, Bumblebee?” 

But before Bumblebee could even respond with his affirmation, there was a loud blaring on Optimus’ end, it was piercing enough that even he had winced and pulled away from the communicator when he heard it. There was some more commotion, like Optimus was exchanging some words with some other mech in quick, hushed tones. Bumblebee notes the increased firmness every time Prime responded. 

“Hey, what the heck is going in there?” Bumblebee couldn’t help but ask, and it takes a while for Optimus to answer him.

“I’m sorry, Bumblebee.” Optimus says, his voice barely heard over the loud alarms and the sounds of heavy pedes. “Something just happened, and—” 

Yelling cuts the Prime off, and before Bumblebee could even ask again, the line cuts. He holds the communicator in his servo, optics wide at what he’d just heard. It sounded like a mess back there, a really big one. Bumblebee feels distress well-up inside of him, but he is quickly reassured by the fact that he was literally worrying about Optimus Prime. He’d fought Megatron and won. 

Whatever was happening back there, Bumblebee was sure it was already done and handled with. 

And once again, he finds himself with nothing to do, and no one to talk to. With great effort, he pulls himself off of the floor and proceeds to slam against his berth chest-first. Why hadn’t he noticed how lonely Cybertron was before? Was he just that naive?

Looking back, Bumblebee barely had any genuine, fun conversations with anyone besides Bulkhead and...and—

Longarm. 

Bumblebee pressed his helm against his berth. 

It had been ages since he’d have to think about Shockwave again, to once again be reminded that he was still locked up somewhere but most definitely still alive and kicking. He hates that it wasn’t all anger that he felt whenever he thought about the Decepticon, part of it felt like mourning, like realizing the lie was losing someone important to him. 

No matter how much of a lie Longarm had been, the way Bumblebee had cared for him was real. 

Now all of it was ruined. Every memory that held a smile or spark between them, broken beyond repair and infected with Shockwave’s manipulation. Even now, when everything was over, Bumblebee couldn’t move past it all, stuck between his mourning and his anger while everyone moved on with their lives. 

“Stupid...” Bumblebee mumbles, the emotions stirring suddenly making him feel exhausted. He offlines his optics, faceplates contorted sourly.

And he falls into recharge. 

Like every attempt, the recharge before the nightmares started was always easy to fall into. It was like his processor forgot what was waiting for him whenever he recharged, only to be painfully reminded once again, and again.  

So when Bumblebee finds his optics going back online, he is not surprised anymore. That dose of dread returns, and he looks around the room for the familiar presence, knowing that he would come soon enough. There, far off in the corner, he walks up, tall and imposing. Bumblebee is almost reminded of that fight back on the moon where Shockwave had shot him. 

A dim red light bathes his faceplates, and Bumblebee would have shivered if he could move. 

Shockwave’s presence closes in, and that servo reaches towards Bumblebee, this time snaking behind his helm and cradling it. It was weird how his processor could come up with something like that, considering how much he related Shockwave to painful strikes. 

Maybe that was something it had gathered up from Longarm. 

Maybe if this went on long enough, he could pretend that it was Longarm instead of Shockwave. To go back to those days in the academy, when everything seemed so simple, and when he could still call Cybertron his home.

A digit glides at the side of Bumblebee’s faceplate, something cold drips down, and the yellow bot catches something in the air...metallic and cloying. 

Energon. 

Why was...there energon? That had never... 

Bumblebee feels his circuits turn cold. Suddenly, he’s all too aware of his limbs and the way he has himself positioned on his berth, it was just then Bumblebee notices it. The apparent figure in his nightmares reacts and that servo behind his head tenses for just a fraction. It was like a switch is flipped inside of the yellow mech, and a heavy beat passes before the truth lays itself within his processor.

This was not a nightmare. 

With a choked yell, Bumblebee violently squirms out of the berth, slamming against the floor and scrambling away to press his back against the wall. He focuses on the tall figure across him, the berth the only thing separating them both. 

Shockwave stares, taking a single step forward which makes him let out a wheezing sound. “Shockwave.” His voice is thin, high-pitched and struggling to even utter the name out. “What are you—” 

There’s a beeping sound then, and he realizes that it was his communicator, which had fallen to the ground in his struggle to get away from the Decepticon. Shockwave stares at him a little longer, and knowing that the yellow bot wouldn’t come any closer to him, reaches down to grab the device and brings it close to his helm before answering it for Bumblebee. 

“Bumblebee!” Optimus’ voice brings a surge of relief in Bumblebee. 

“Opti—!” Bumblebee bites down onto his glossa as Shockwave suddenly points a blaster at him, the drying energon on his plating suddenly making a lot of sense. 

“Bumblebee, talk to me.” Optimus keeps talking, his voice sounding ragged and venting interlaced with his words. “One of the Decepticons escaped, and I need you to tell me you’re safe.” 

Shockwave looks at Bumblebee again, red optic so thoroughly roaming over him, like the Decepticon was making up for the ages he hadn’t seen him and drinking up whatever he could now. He paints targets over Bumblebee’s frame with his optic, blind to everything else and so utterly starving that the other mech could practically feel it like the sharp edge of a servo. 

Once again, he haunts the center of Bumblebee’s sight. 

“He’ll be perfectly fine, Prime.” Shockwave mutters into the communicator, and Bumblebee could only imagine the look of horror that Optimus gives on the other end before the Decepticon crushes the device in his servo with ease, the small parts crumbling out from between his digits. 

He watches as Shockwave closes the distance between them, and without many options on how to react, Bumblebee takes out his stingers and points it at the Decepticon. Shockwave pauses where he stands, tilting his head ever so slightly as if this was all amusing to him. 

“That’s not nice.” Shockwave says simply. “I haven’t seen you for ages, and that’s how you react?” 

“I swear if you come any closer to me you freaking one-eyed creep—!” Bumblebee hisses, stingers crackling dangerously. “I’ll beat you into scrap, you hear me!?” 

The Decepticon lets out a little vent, like a laugh. Shockwave is utterly unaffected, and he walks closer nonetheless, which makes Bumblebee raise his stingers up higher, pointed right at Shockwave’s helm. “There you go again throwing your little insults around...” He’s close enough to touch now, and Bumblebee seizes on the spot. “Try it then, shoot me, shoot your academy friend.” 

Bumblebee widens his optics before he narrows them down and offlines them, stingers moving towards Shockwave—

He feels a tight grip around his wrist joint, Bumblebee turns his optics online to see that Shockwave had simply grabbed him, stopping his stinger mere inches from his chest. It was unyielding, and no matter how much Bumblebee tugged, Shockwave wouldn’t let go.

“I’m hurt, Bumblebee.” Shockwave puts on this faux, despaired tone and it makes Bumblebee want to hit him with his other stinger, but the threat of Shockwave’s grip stops him. The Decepticon was definitely strong enough to crush or pull parts of him with ease. 

“Why are you doing this?” Bumblebee wrenches out. “Was lying to me— everyone not enough?” 

Shockwave leans forward so his helm is level with Bumblebee’s, his optic searing. “To make you understand that you don’t belong with the Autobots.” Bumblebee jolts, shaking his head in disbelief, processor racing in confusion. 

“Don’t you get it? They’ve done nothing for you, the only time they have ever thought of you as worth their time was when you had to take down the Decepticon cause.” His words grew more firm, and Bumblebee felt himself grow smaller, shrinking down against the wall. “But I saw you, everyone hated you, but all it took was one good look for me to understand that you were more.” 

“The other Decepticons— what about them? Why are you even wasting your time here?” Bumblebee stumbles and stutters over his words, his optics going from the door and then back to Shockwave. It should have been easier to break the others out than to break into Bumblebee’s apartment, what was...

“You haven’t realized it, sparkling?” Shockwave lowers his voice like he’s talking to some protoform. “Oh, right...you thought all of those were nightmares.”  

Bumblebee lets out some weak, choking noise, the words unable to form in his processor as he lets the implication of what Shockwave had just said properly sink into him. “You’ve been—”

Shockwave slips a servo around the back of Bumblebee neck plates, bringing it close until the little yellow bot could feel the Decepticon’s helm bump against his own. “That’s right.” He says. “I’ve always been here for you, Bumblebee.” 

There’s a feeling that swells inside of Bumblebee’s spark, almost as bad as the time Shockwave revealed himself as Longarm. It made him feel dizzy, like something was eating him from the inside and turning him hollow. He cannot look at anything else but Shockwave’s optic at the moment, the servo on the back of his neck and around his wrist joint was almost like being welded still. 

And slowly but surely, it all makes way for a flood of rage. 

“Get away from me!” Bumblebee screeches, managing to surprise the Decepticon for just long enough to place a pede flat against Shockwave’s torso, kicking him away with enough force to bring some space between them. He darts past Shockwave, practically slamming himself against the door and repeatedly tapping the control panel to open it, and as soon as a sliver of an opening appears, Bumblebee takes a deep vent. 

“Help— ahh!” A servo wraps around his middle, tearing him away from the door and throwing him backwards. Bumblebee feels his helm crack against the edge of his berth, making his optics glitch out and blur his view. There’s a trickle of warm Energon trailing down his faceplates, dripping over his intake and then to his neck. 

Shockwave looms over him, silent as he picks Bumblebee up into his arms and stares at the limp mech. “See what you made me do, Bumblebee?” He says, tone disappointed. “I didn’t want to do that, you know.” 

Bumblebee tries to look at Shockwave, but half of his view is blacked out, and he doesn’t quite understand what had just happened until he feels a radiating pain in the back of his helm and spearing through where he couldn’t see. One of his optics was broken. 

“Now, let us go.” Shuffling Bumblebee around, he lets the little yellow bot settle in his servos, cradling his frame without any issue. “I’m sure Prime has already figured out what I have planned.” 

In the middle of Bumblebee’s ruined apartment, Optimus sat on the edge of the berth with his helm held in his servos. Ratchet looks over at him as he leans against a wall, the silence stretching between the two mechs was thick enough to be touched and cut apart. 

Optimus slowly drags his face from his servos, staring ahead emptily. 

“Why would he even take Bumblebee? Is it leverage to make us release the other Decepticons?” The Prime reasons bitterly, trying to distract himself from the welling panic in his spark. Ratchet manages to keep himself stable and calm, not wanting to add on to the already mounting stress on the other mech. 

“I don’t think so, he could have done that as soon as he escaped.” Ratchet replies, walking up to Optimus and taking a seat next to him. “...and have you heard what they’ve found out?” 

Optimus flits his gaze over to the medic. “Heard what?” 

“That this wasn’t his first time doing such a thing, escaping.” 

“What?” Optimus stands, disbelief sullying his usually smooth voice. “You’re telling me he’s been doing this for multiple times, and he hasn’t done anything to free the other Decepticons? That doesn’t make any sense, Ratchet!” He crosses his arms, looking at the medic for another explanation. 

Raising a hand up, Ratchet silently asks for Optimus to be patient. “I know how that sounds, alright? I didn’t believe it too, but Shockwave left his cuffs in his cell, and with a quick look at them it told us he figured out how to overcharge them with the energy fields we use to keep them inside." He watches as shock dawns on the Prime, and then blurring into frustration. “They’ve been broken for ages, he’s just been pretending to be cuffed and doing Primus knows what to avoid getting caught.” 

They both knew that Shockwave was dangerous enough that simply keeping him behind an energy field wouldn’t be enough to keep him out, not with a mind like that. But now, apparently, not even cuffing his servos would be able to keep him down. 

It was no wonder he’d been able to deceive them for so long. 

Optimus shakes his helm, pinching the space between his optics. “Okay, but that doesn’t matter right now, we’ll think about what we can do with that after we figure out where and why he has Bumblebee.” There’s a sharp vent then, the Prime feeling the horrible dread start to overtake his thoughts, but he quickly pushes it down to give space to rationality. “Ratchet, he could be hurting him—”

“I know.” Ratchet snaps, but he quickly takes in a deep vent to settle himself. “I know, so let’s...think about this carefully, about how Bumblebee could be connected to all of this...Shockwave’s lie back at the academy, Bumblebee had cared a lot about that fake persona he’d made up.” 

Almost everyone knew how much the young bot had seemingly respected Longarm Prime, the poor kid. Even during their stay on Earth, Ratchet had listened to that story about Wasp and how Longarm had helped him catch an ‘honest to Primus Decepticon spy’ with their teamwork. Bulkhead had even stood as witness to how much Bumblebee respected him. 

No one needed to ask why Bumblebee’s demeanor differed somewhat after the reveal. 

Disgust flashes on Optimus’ face. “Don’t tell me he’s planning to use him again.” He hated thinking about it, Bumblebee being led on once more and using the bot’s trusting attitude against him. 

Ratchet shakes his head. “No.” He mutters. “I don’t think it’s like that anymore.” 

“What do you mean?” Optimus questions. He couldn’t find any other reason why Shockwave would take Bumblebee other than to use him. 

“I’ve seen his processor, Optimus.” Ratchet explains, his gaze steadying on Optimus’ optics. “Shockwave’s emotional cores were almost completely offline, but they were all wired in a way that kept Shockwave from delegating his care onto more than one thing at a time.” 

The process was required when all of the Decepticons had been captured, and Ratchet had never seen so many strangely wired processors, all coded and modified in certain ways to amplify a certain aspect of them. Ratchet didn’t know if they had all been self-inflicted, consensual, or it had all been forced onto them without their knowledge. The medic didn’t know what was worse. 

“What would even be the point of all that?” It didn’t make sense for any bot to do that to themselves, not unless you wanted to be a danger to yourself and others. “Wouldn’t that just hinder Shockwave?” 

Ratchet sighs, and he nods his head before continuing. “Well, it is, but Megatron probably saw it as a way to have a mech that was faultlessly loyal to him and the Decepticon cause, all the while completely hyper-focused on keeping it afloat.” He explains, tapping on his own helm for emphasis. “Shockwave’s thoughts only functioned if it related to the Decepticons and their success.” 

Understanding finally lands on Optimus’ processor then. “So...when Shockwave was acting as a spy for the Decepticons, he met Bumblebee and...”

The medic doesn’t add onto Optimus’ words at first, even the thought of it was utterly unthinkable. “He is forced to be exposed to something other than the Decepticon cause—”

“No.” Optimus drops his helm back onto a servo. “Ratchet don’t say it.” 

“I’m just saying that—” Ratchet bites down on the inside of his intake, bracing himself for the words that he was about to make himself say. “...with the way that Shockwave’s emotions function he could have formed a similar devotion to Bumblebee as he did with the Decepticons, and it would be an explanation to his behavior, being so bold as to break out in the middle of the day…not even thinking about the other Decepticons.” 

Optimus suddenly stands, pacing back and forth for a few moments, and Ratchet simply lets him, allowing the Prime to simmer in what he’d just laid out for him. “Shockwave wants to keep Bumblebee for himself, okay, fine.” He manages to say after a few more seconds of pacing. “But what does that entail? What does that say about where he’d taken— oh, slag.”  

It was like an epiphany reached both of them at the same time. Optimus and Ratchet meet optics. 

As obsessed as Shockwave was, he could only do one thing as soon as he got his servos on the mech he’d been starved from. To selfishly steal him away and keep Bumblebee from any other bot that could stand between them. 

“He’s going to take Bumblebee into space with him.” Optimus and Ratchet simultaneously say to each other. 

Bumblebee stirs, feeling the ache in his heavy parts. There’s a sharp pounding that stretches from one of his optics and down to the back of his helm, but the grogginess in his system dulls it a bit.

He was in someplace cold, laying across some hard, uncomfortable surface. But at least he was able to lay down properly. He could feel a presence beside him, and when Bumblebee turns his helm to the side, he feels a servo bump against his faceplates. 

“Longarm...” Bumblebee grumbles, his glossa feeling heavy in his intake. “Why are you up...? We got training...” He attempted to online his optics properly, but he couldn’t, not when one of them hurt so much whenever he tried for some reason. So instead, he reaches out blindly, finding a cold ridge to wrap his digits around, it was only when he felt parts shifting to enclose around him did he understand that he had found Longarm’s servo. 

The other mech still didn’t speak, and Bumblebee rolls over to his side. “What are you being so quiet for?” He mumbles. “...you mad at me?” The servo wrapped around his own tightens for just a bit, but it quickly loosens once more. 

“Of course not.” Longarm’s voice fills the silence, relieving Bumblebee. “Sorry for waking you, it’s just I wanted to ask you something.” 

Bumblebee let out a quiet hum, urging the other mech to speak. “If you wanted to go somewhere, and I mean anywhere...where would you like to go, Bumblebee?” Longarm whispers. “Anywhere at all.” 

There’s a small chuckle, and Bumblebee wonders quietly for a moment before answering. “Someplace that isn’t boring.” He eventually says. “Don’t really have anything specific in mind, but…plus points if I can end up calling it a ‘home’ I guess…” 

“I see.” Longarm pulls away. 

And Bumblebee simply falls back into recharge.

There’s a loud rumbling. 

Bumblebee sits up rapidly, looking around in a panic before clutching the side of his faceplate. It felt like one half of his face was being stabbed repeatedly, only being subdued by his racing thoughts and the loud whirring of his internal fans. Looking around, the room that he’s in is recognizable, it looked a lot like the interior on the Orion. He was on a ship. 

He stands on shaking pedes, joints wobbling as his head throbs. The right side of his view was just pure black, and the other side was riddled with visual glitches. Bumblebee presses on a door console, almost collapsing forward into the hallways as it opens. 

Eventually, he arrives at the main ship controls, and Shockwave stands there, facing away from him. Bumblebee feels the rage thrum beneath his plates and down to his servo. He takes out a stinger, pointing it at the Decepticon. 

Shockwave must have heard it, because he turns around, and there’s no amount of surprise in his demeanor as he stares at the yellow bot. “You’re awake.” He says simply. “Again.” 

“Shut up.” Bumblebee growls out, his vision spinning, keeping him from aiming at Shockwave properly. “Stop...stop talking, I’m gonna break in your stupid helmet...fragging liar...” 

“Spare me the drivel.” Shockwave turns back around to try and power the ship. They were still on Cybertron, it seemed, Bumblebee could still stop this.  “We don’t have much time, the Elite guard knows what we’re up to.” 

Bumblebee would have laughed if he had the energy.

‘We.’ 

As if Shockwave saw them as some sort of package deal. If Bumblebee had any choice, he would have never even bothered to come back to Cybertron, just so he could shove whatever recollections he had about the Decepticon behind. How the memories plumed around him like smoke, of Longarm, of the simple kind exchanges and the trust that Bumblebee had given. So easily slipping through his digits and revealing the figure before him. 

Bumblebee was tired of the mourning, of wishing that Longarm had not been Shockwave despite the truth so violently bared right in front of him. 

So he points his stinger to the dark expanse of Decepticon’s back, and shoots. 

Shockwave gets knocked forward slightly, his lumbering figure swiftly turning around to stare down at Bumblebee. There’s a piercing gleam in his red optic, and he stomps towards the yellow mech, who stands firmly in place, even as his form slouches in exhaustion. 

There is no shock when Shockwave swings his servo and grabs Bumblebee, slamming him up against the ship walls. The smaller mech glares at the Decepticon, making his right optic crackle in pain and burst with glitching light. 

“I don’t understand why you’re so against this, sparkling.” Bumblebee bristles at the name, and he watches as another servo comes close to his shattered optic. With a sharp digit, Shockwave traces the edge of it, letting out a sigh. “What a shame, I’ve always liked your optics.” He drags the bottom as if to analyze the extent of the damage. “Don’t worry, I promise I’ll get you a replacement when everything settles down.” 

A fresh flow of energon slips down his faceplate, and Shockwave gently glides a digit to stop its path. “Look at you, fragile thing...” He says the words with such sickening tenderness that Bumblebee renews his thrashing. “Now, now, enough of that, Bumblebee.” 

Small yellow-tipped servos shoot out and grab Shockwave’s horns, and finally the Decepticon is caught off guard. Bumblebee takes the moment to slam the front of his helm against Shockwave, which makes the taller mech stagger back with a groan. 

Falling to the floor, Bumblebee rights himself up and sticks his stinger into Shockwave’s side, relishing in the actual sound of pain that the Decepticon makes. But it doesn’t last long, as Shockwave grabs the yellow bot’s face and promptly crashes him against the floor, there's a sickening crack somewhere behind his helm, something must have broken. Bumblebee lets out a distressed noise as what’s left of his sight glitches before righting itself once more. 

Shockwave is venting hard as he stares at the other mech pinned down on the floor. He lets go after a while, servo dripping with energon. 

“What do I need to do to make you listen?” Shockwave growls. “Do you not understand how you make me feel, sparkling? You cannot even fathom the risks I am taking— just for you! I should have taken you sooner, now that Prime is after us…!” 

“I hate you.” Bumblebee shoots back, voice filled with static. “You took my friend away...you took him away and I’ll never see him again...you’ll never be him...never going to be Longarm.” The loathing spills and comes out in the form of pure grief, coolant spilling from his optics and mingling with the energon. 

“You are right.” Shockwave seethes out. “I am not him, because as I am now, as myself— I could love you more.” 

Bumblebee lets out a high-pitched keen, throwing his head back as coolant blur his sight. “Do not do that, Bumblebee.” Shockwave coos, dragging a cold digit to wipe away the little mech's tears. “There’s no need for it.” 

There’s a desperation to how Shockwave speaks, and it sounded unnerving on him, no matter how much he doesn’t intend it to be. Bumblebee wonders if anything in Shockwave’s processor realizes how impossible this all was, for him to fully accept the Decepticon in the way that he wants him to. For all the logic that Shockwave based himself upon...

He was drowning in his own delusion. 

“I don’t want this...I want to stay with my friends...I want...to stay on Cybertron.” Bumblebee sobs. 

Whatever Shockwave was about to say was immediately cut off, and Bumblebee watches as he gets thrown off, crashing against the wall to their side. He slowly raises his helm to look at Optimus Prime, standing over him and trembling. The yellow bot lifts himself up, reaching out towards him, almost crawling across the floor just to touch him. 

It was like he was seeing some sort of apparition, of some impossible presence his desperate mind had conjured up. But Optimus kneels down immediately, closing his servos around Bumblebee and pulling him close and against his chest. It was then the smaller mech knew that he was real at that moment, his plates sinking into the touch, letting his vents shudder slowly against the red and blue of Optimus Prime. 

“Oh, Primus, Bumblebee—” He brings the smaller bot up, holding him firm as if loosening his grip would make Bumblebee disappear once more. “I need to take you to Ratchet.” 

“NO!” 

Bumblebee yelps as Shockwave’s clawed servo wraps around his pede, viciously tearing the mini-bot from Optimus’ grasp. The Decepticon presses against the ship’s stasis pods, servos digging into Bumblebee’s plating, digits feverishly scraping against yellow paint. Bumblebee tries to wrestle out of the grip, but all it serves is to make Shockwave wrap his arms tighter around the small frame, forcing that yellow helm against his chestplate. 

“He is mine, PRIME!” Shockwave presses his head against the crux of Bumblebee’s neck. “Mine to keep by my side, my sparkling—!” 

Optimus brandishes his axe at his side, raising his free servo. “Shockwave...” He takes a step closer, but Shockwave coils around Bumblebee like a predator guarding a kill. The Prime couldn’t do anything, out of fear that the Decepticon might do something drastic that would hurt the small mech in his dangerous servos. 

“Walk off this ship.” Shockwave hisses. “Walk off this ship right now and tell the rest of the Elite guard that you were too late, and I will give you the honor of living long enough to see this mech by my side and ruining you Autobots.” 

The axe lowers, and Optimus looks warily at Bumblebee, he doesn’t make any more steps to move back. They’re at a standstill, with Prime refusing to leave, and with Shockwave not wanting to give Bumblebee up, not when he finally had the little bot in his servos. Those sharp digits were fumbling at the attempt of being comforting, but all they do is scratch and dent. 

Bumblebee looks up at Shockwave, then at the stasis pods the Decepticon had pressed himself up against.

So, with his small servos, he wraps himself around Shockwave’s broad frame. The Decepticon reacts immediately, looking down at the bot in his arms, attention all but taken away from Optimus Prime. All the aggression practically melts away from him, his grip weakening as he feels the mech cling to him. 

Bumblebee holds himself against Shockwave as best he can, and for a single, guiltless moment, he lets himself think that this is Longarm. Before he’d gone off onto the Orion, when he was still oblivious to the lies and manipulation, when he could still call the other mech his closest friend. 

And Bumblebee lifts a pede, kicking the control panel that slid the glass of the stasis pods open. Shockwave startles, but he couldn’t do much when the smaller mech leans against him, forcing him inside of the pod. 

“Bumblebee—!” Shockwave yells, realizing what the bot was attempting, he tries to reach out and stop the pod from closing, but Optimus moves in, grabbing the back of Bumblebee’s neck plate and pulling him out of the Decepticon’s grasp. “Bumblebee! BUMBLEBEE! YOU LIAR—!”

Optimus holds the yellow mech flush, kicking Shockwave back and slamming on the controls to close the pod. Shockwave thrashes and slams against the glass, staring at Bumblebee as his voice is slowly muffled out, drowned out by the sound of the cold, freezing gas flooding the space.

There, in the middle of the cold filling up the pod with plumes of white, Shockwave's red optics burns through, bright and angry. Bumblebee holds the gaze for a moment longer. 

 And he turns his head away to press his helm against Optimus’ chest, looking away first. 

The stasis pod fogs up, and the slamming slows down to a complete silence. Bumblebee takes in a few, deep vents, and collapses against the Prime. 

Optimus lets Bumblebee stay inside of his own apartment. 

At least this time, the space was a little more homely than the one that Bumblebee had for himself. It had some personal things that told a lot about its owner; awards and recognition from the Elite guard, weapons stashed away to the side, and even one of Bulkhead’s paintings was hung on the walls. 

In the center of it all, a little photo of a group of bots with a red-haired organic, all smiling. 

Bumblebee laid down in the middle of Optimus’ berth, staring up at the ceiling. Ratchet had done his best with relieving the pain from his wounds and his broken optic. They wouldn’t be able to find a replacement until tomorrow, Ratchet had to find something that matched his original color, no matter how much Bumblebee had urged that it was fine if it was a little off from his other optic. 

The door opens, and Optimus walks in, placing an energon cube on the end table beside the berth. “Are you feeling better?” He asks. 

“What’s the Elite guard gonna do with Shockwave?” Bumblebee answers instead, turning to face the Prime. 

There’s a sigh, and Optimus rubs the back of his neck. “He’s still in the stasis pod, we’re probably going to have to keep him in there, considering how dangerous he is just by being awake.” He reaches down, curving a servo against Bumblebee’s shoulder. “Bumblebee, I’m so sorry that this all happened to you, if there’s anything that I—”

“Shockwave asked me to join the Decepticons.” Bumblebee blurts out, making Optimus stare at him, optics wide. “When me and Bulkhead were fighting him on the moon, he asked me, and I was...almost tempted to say yes, because I just wanted my friend back.” 

He shifts to his side, balling himself up slightly. “I was just...so, so focused at the fact he’d been lying, I...couldn’t see the rest of you and I’m sorry for that.” 

Optimus lowers himself, bumping his helm against Bumblebee’s. “It’s okay, Bumblebee.” He mutters. “We’ll talk all about this further when you’re feeling all better, alright?” 

“Yeah, that’s...nice.” Bumblebee says, genuine. “I actually wanna try and recharge for a bit.” 

The Prime shifts, his presence apparent even after Bumblebee offlines his optics. “I’ll just be right here.” Optimus reassures, and the yellow mech feels him glide a servo against his helm for just a moment before it pulls away. 

“Thanks, Optimus.” 

Nothing wakes him this time.