In a Dark Ruby Stain

by Keelywolfe

When he remembered it later, and he never wanted to, those memories came seeping unwilling into his dreams like the fog off of a lake, heavy and dim, and when Sam woke from those dreams his eyes were always too hot, unshed tears thick in his throat. But when he did, less and less as time passed, the one memory he could never quite shake was the way the floor beneath him never warmed. He sat on it for what seemed like hours, speaking softer and softer to Bumblebee as his voice slowly gave way to overuse, and the floor never warmed to his body heat.

It seemed to siphon it away instead, leaching his warmth until he was speaking through chilled, bloodless lips but never did Sam stop speaking, not so long as Ratchet still worked and there were tiny lights that flashed on Ratchet's instruments. Meaningless little shifts in color to Sam but he watched them nonetheless, silently counting every tiny flicker because each one said life and that was all he needed to see.

Bumblebee hadn't moved since Sunstreaker had fallen away from him.

But Ratchet had told him to speak and Sam had, to the point of telling Bumblebee meaningless stories about his childhood, about the time he'd broken his arm when he'd tried to stand on one foot on a soccer ball, about his eighth birthday party where Miles had eaten too much cake and had puked on his mom's azaleas. He'd sung snatches of his favorite songs and bits from poems he'd remembered. Anything, everything, and once he'd had a dim, almost hysterical thought that if it was possible to bore someone to death then he might be doing it right now.

Those little flickering lights were the only straw he had to grasp at and Sam did, watching them, counting them and every time he got to one hundred, he told Bumblebee that he loved him.

It was only when Optimus arrived that Sam broke off, briefly, rubbing his tongue on the roof of his mouth in a useless effort to work up any spit to ease the dryness of his throat. He felt like he'd swallowed a large glass of the Sahara.

Optimus spared Sideswipe and Sunstreaker only the barest of glances, taking in the darkness of Sunstreaker's optics and his brother's grip on his limp form. It was Ratchet and Bumblebee who took the full weight of his attention, Ratchet not even looking up as their leader loomed over him, almost too large for the room. He didn't speak, waiting with silent patience for Ratchet to pause in his work.

"This is as stable as I can get him here, with the little equipment that I have. We need to move him to the infirmary," Ratchet said, his hands always moving and to Sam it looked like little beams of lights came from his fingertips, the same laser he'd used on Bumblebee the night they had arrived. "I'm barely keeping ahead of the virus now and I won't be able to for much longer, not with field medic tools."

"Ironhide will be here momentarily," Optimus said, "Between the two of us, we will be able to carry Bumblebee and allow you to continue staving off the virus."

"Fine." Ratchet's hand moved, twisting something almost viciously and Bumblebee made a sound, the first in ages and Sam felt an answering sound swelling in his own throat, a wordless protest of the pain Ratchet was causing him. Sam choked it back, but he couldn't stop watching, couldn't look away from the dark, liquid sheen on Ratchet's fingertips.

"Sideswipe," Ratchet snapped out, and the other Autobot jumped, startled from his stillness. "Sunstreaker is going to be fine. When we have Bumblebee stable, I will have him transported to the infirmary. For now, I want you to take Sam back to his quarters."

"What?!" Sam's voice was rough and grating, and he swallowed hard, forcing words past his abused vocal cords. "If I go anywhere it's going to be straight to the infirmary with Bumblebee. I'm sure as hell not going to my room like a five year old!"

"Sideswipe, take him out of here," Optimus said, his tone brooking no argument and if he'd been an Autobot, Sam surely would have jumped the same way that Sideswipe did, carefully settling his brother on the floor before his large hand closed over a protesting human as gently as possible. But he wasn't an Autobot, he was only human and every bit of his organic body was struggling against Sideswipe's grip, bruising tender flesh against metallic fingers.

"No!" Sam screamed, his voice fading. "Ratchet, don't do this to me! I want to stay with him, please--" He managed to squirm half out of Sideswipe's grip, forcing him try using two hands and Sam slipped trying to avoid them, biting his tongue hard enough to taste warm copper. The pain cleared his head somewhat and he could hear Ratchet saying his name.

"Sam," Ratchet said again, sharply, and for the barest moment he looked up, the blue light of his optics meeting Sam's eyes. "Listen to me. Do you remember what we spoke about earlier?"

Sam nodded, glaring at Ratchet through tear-filled eyes.

"You were right. I wasn't being fair to you," His optics flicked down to Bumblebee, back up to Sam. "I trust you, do you understand me? I believe you. But I need you to trust me. I need to focus on Bumblebee and it will be much easier if I'm not worried about you as well so for Bumblebee's sake, I want you to go with Sideswipe. I can contact him in seconds if I need to."

"Promise me you'll help him," Sam whispered it with the last bit of voice he had.

His optics flickered but Ratchet didn't hesitate. "I promise."

Sam didn't need anyone to tell him it was a lying promise, a false piece of hope offering what comfort it could. Help him, yes, Ratchet would promise that. But nothing in his words or in those soft blinking lights promised that Ratchet would save him.

At that moment, Ironhide came through the door, crowding into the already too-small room and Sam never had a moment to reach out to Bumblebee, not a single last touch before Sideswipe carried him away and he never knew if his last barely whispered 'I love you' was heard by anyone at all.

~*~


Outside, night had already fallen, shadowing the city in darkness that was never complete. There were too many lights, Autobot City an appropriate name for the way it shone through the desert darkness akin to Las Vegas. They were well away from Main Administration before Sideswipe finally set him down, almost warily, hesitating a moment before stepping back to transform as if he was afraid Sam would run back into the building. Back to Bumblebee.

But Sam never moved a step, only swayed on his feet with a sort of exhaustion he'd never before felt. When Sideswipe opened the driver's side door in silent offering, he nearly fell into the seat, curling up into cool leather and not even murmuring a protest as the seatbelt tightened gently around him.

"I'll take you back to your quarters, Sam," Sideswipe said, his voice faintly tinny in the small interior.

"I think..." Sam tried to swallow again, wishing very much for just a glass of water. "I think I'd like to see Mikaela instead."

"All right." Softly agreeable and he shifted into drive slowly, moving almost unsteadily along the smooth roads. It shook Sam from his melancholy enough to remind him that Sideswipe's evening hadn't been of the sunshine and cherries variety either.

"Are you all right?" Sam whispered, trusting Sideswipe to hear him much in the same way he'd trusted Bee. The long silence almost convinced him that Sideswipe hadn't heard him at all and it made panic swell in his chest, thickening in his throat because oh, god, what if Ratchet had just been trying to distract him, what if Bumblebee couldn't have heard a word of it and--

"Not really." Those two words, heavy with exhaustion and honesty, eased his fears more than Sam would have liked to admit. "I believe the human equivalent would be that I am in shock. These past few months have been so peaceful; I believe I allowed myself to forget that we are still at war. Although this kind of wound..."

"It's bad, isn't it." Not a question, not one that required an answer. Not with what he'd seen and the sight of dark liquid dripping from Sunstreaker's eyes was one that would haunt him for months to come.

Another long silence, the hum of the engine and the faint hiss of the tires on asphalt the only noise before Sideswipe offered, tentatively. "Ratchet will do everything in his power to help Bumblebee."

"Have you seen anything like this before?"

"Yes," so softly, and to Sam it felt like a tremor went through Sideswipe's sturdy frame. He didn't ask the next question, could almost feel Sideswipe's tension as he waited for it to come. But no, he didn't want to ask, he didn't want to know what had happened before. He just wanted to sit here and watch the headlights cutting through the gloom ahead of them as Mikaela's quarters loomed into view.

The low-slung building that was almost a perfect copy of Sam's, the westerly facing door was the only difference. There was a vehicle parked in front of it, 'Police' in neat black letters across the door and Sam stared at it uncomprehendingly, almost stupid with exhaustion.

"I hadn't heard that Prowl had been assigned to guard her," Sideswipe said, "But that makes sense, he would be an excellent protector."

Sam was too weary to even think of agreeing, just stumbled out of the door when it swung open and up to the steel-framed one that led to Mikaela. He hadn't even thought much about why he was coming here, only that she had been with him the last time Bumblebee had been hurt and he knocked almost too hard, just wanting her to open the door. From behind him, he heard Sideswipe begin to speak, urgency in his soft voice, "Sam, wait--"

The door cracked open slowly, her face cast in shadow as she peered out warily. "Sam? What are you doing here, it's like midnight!"

So flustered, her cheeks bright with color and suddenly Sam didn't need her to open the door because he knew, he knew exactly what was happening behind it and he didn't need to see the faint swollenness to her lips or the tangles in her hair to realize it. His only dim curiosity was to what form Prowl had taken for her, perhaps that muscled jock look that she'd always been weak for.

It was enough for him to take a hesitant step backwards because he could not deal with this right now and the fact that he had no right to be jealous or upset, that he'd cheated on her with Bumblebee before he'd ever considered the consequences of it didn't keep the slow boil of his emotions in check. His heart and his gut throbbed in unison, keeping time in some sort of hellish rhythm where everyone he'd ever cared about was abandoning him. His parents, Mikaela, Bumblebee...

"Sam, wait," Mikaela followed his stumbling backwards steps, unmindful of the cold ground beneath her bare feet. "You look like hell, what happened? Where's Bee?"

"I can't," Sam choked out, his abused vocal cords locking up beneath tightness in his throat. He flinched when she reached out to him, backing away and only stopping when he bumped against the slick metal of Sideswipe's side. The hood was still warm beneath his numb fingertips, ticking gently as it cooled.

"What happened?" Mikaela demanded. "Look, I know how you feel about him, what's going on!"

"You know?" Sam murmured hoarsely. "Did he tell you?" he jerked his head in Prowl's direction and was bitterly gratified to see her cheeks redden, dull ruddy color.

Anger lit her eyes but her voice was even when she spoke. "He didn't need to. I'm not blind, Sam, I can tell when someone sneaks off for a quickie. Now, are you going to tell me what's going on?"

For the briefest of moments, he wanted that more than anything in the world. Wanted to curl up in her arms and just weep out all of the weariness and strain, and he knew without question she would let him. She would hold him and murmur nonsense words into his hair and offer him every ounce of comfort her arms could give him.

But he didn't belong in her arms anymore.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, tried to put every apology he owed her into that one hoarse whisper. For leaving her, for letting her go, for nearly hating her in this one brief moment because it was so easy for her to let him go. For not being able to love her nearly as much as he loved an alien being of metal and gears who was not even close to human but still somehow everything he ever wanted.

Sam didn't give her a chance to protest, just pulled open the door and slipped behind the wheel, pulling it closed quickly behind him. It was gratifying that Sideswipe seemed to understand, driving away without a word, only the faint squeal of tires and the brief yellowed flash of Mikaela's face in the headlights was contorted with worry. He didn't have the energy to care right now, only moving clumsily over the center console until he could get into the back seat and curl up, letting Sideswipe drive wherever the road took him.

"Sam?" Warm hands on his bare arms startled him and he jerked up, blinking at Sideswipe's human aspect. The concern on his face was easier to accept than Mikaela's, the underlying exhaustion so amazingly vivid. Bumblebee had always told him that his holo form was a reflection of what he truly was but he'd never seen it before so clearly as he did right now with Sideswipe, his own fears mirrored in blue eyes.

He didn't quite think about pressing his mouth against Sideswipe's parted lips, easing his tongue into that soft cool mouth. It was frightfully still beneath his questing mouth, Sideswipe's tongue lax and motionless for the briefest of moments before it tentatively responded to Sam's coaxing, liquid movement against him. The seats were cool leather, warming quickly beneath Sam and he noticed the shift of gravity almost dimly, Sideswipe surprisingly heavy over him and his mouth heating, wet tongue lashing against Sam's.

A leg slipped between his own, gliding upward and pressing firmly into the swelling heat of his erection and Sam gasped into Sideswipe's mouth, biting his own lip at the sweet pressure that was so, so perfect, for just an instant. And then it was gone, Sideswipe tearing away from him and scrambling backwards in the too-small space.

Protests died on Sam's lips as he met Sideswipe's eyes, the Autobot panting for breath that he surely didn't need and then reality came back to him in a surge like a tidal wave, guilt drowning him.

"Oh, god, I'm sorry," Sam cried out, pulling his knees up to his chest. He covered his mouth with one hand, feeling the stinging heat of his lips that were almost swollen from too-hard kisses. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean--I'm sorry!"

"Shhhhh," Sideswipe slipped a little closer, lightly touching Sam's hands and he ignored Sam's efforts to pull them away, holding them firmly. "Please. Don't. I may not be a human but I know enough about them to realize that you're emotionally and physically exhausted. It's perfectly understandable that you’d seek comfort and we do have a kind of relationship between us."

A kind of relationship. It reminded him of Bumblebee's reluctance to share any piece of him with Sideswipe, barely allowing a kiss, and guilt was like a physical force battering him inside.

Sideswipe made an exasperated noise, pulling Sam into his arms. "Humans have such an disproportional sense of self. If you honestly think Bumblebee is going to begrudge you a single kiss in this moment, then I daresay you don't know him at all, don't you agree?"

He did, Sam realized. Bumblebee would forgive him without even a thought. Bumblebee always knew what he needed. It made it easier to relax against Sideswipe, closing his eyes at the soothing feel of slim fingertips petting his hair.

"I'm sorry, anyway," Sam said, sleepily. "Cocktease isn't usually a word I like to resemble."

"If I thought for one moment that it was true desire and not a moment of lunatic desperation, I would already have you naked," Sideswipe told him dryly. "There is a great deal about you that would arouse a sexual response."

"I spend most of my life single and now I find I'm irresistible to Autobots."

"I can't vouch for humans but you have many qualities that would attract an Autobot. Your strength, your courage, your compassion are highly desirable. The fact that you have a great ass seems inconsequential in comparison."

Sam choked on a teary laugh. "I don't feel very strong."

"Everyone has an off day."

Sleep was pulling at him, but Sam resisted, confessing softly, "We were going to, you know, me and Bumblebee. We were going to...to...with you. During the next training session."

"Really?" Sideswipe said, surprised. "I admit, I'm a little shocked. Bee didn't seem like he was interested in sharing."

"No, but it didn't seem fair to you to feel everything and get nothing."

"Fair?" He seemed to consider that, his fingers pausing briefly in their stroking before they stirred again, slipping down to rub gentle circles into Sam's back. "If I'd been promised a sexual relationship, I could understand that but I asked for nothing but the chance to help a friend. Not that I wouldn't have taken the opportunity if it was offered but I confess, I'm confused as to why it would be."

"I saw you and Sunstreaker," Sam admitted, quietly. Sideswipe went very still, his false breathing stuttering to a stop and it made Sam continue in a rush of words. "I'm sorry, we weren't trying to spy, we just accidentally walked in and--"

"It's all right, Sam," he said heavily, his hands stirring back into motion. "My relationship with Sunstreaker is...complicated, at best. He surprised me, tonight." The hushed admission almost seemed reluctant, thoughtful. "I never would have expected him to nearly extinguish himself to save Bumblebee."

Neither would I, Sam didn't say, kept his words on the tip of his tongue because his dislike of Sunstreaker seemed churlish, at the very least, given what had happened.

"In fact, I--" Sideswipe broke off, stiffening against Sam. "We need to go, now. Optimus wants us at the infirmary.

The rush of fear in his blood sloughed off any exhaustion and Sam sat up straight, silently buckling his seatbelt as Sideswipe's holo vanished and he made a sharp turn, tearing down the road at breakneck speed that Sam only wished could be faster.

~~*~~

The silence in the infirmary was damning in its own way, as much as Ratchet's still, grave expression. The splashes of dark fluid on the floor surrounding Bee seemed inconsequential, unreal and Sam could only look up at Ratchet mutely, dimly noting that Optimus was crouched low next to Bumblebee, murmuring to him in soft tones

"Sam," Ratchet said, his voice modulator dissolving into static and never had Sam hated the sound of his own name as he did then, that one word speaking volumes, more information than it had any right to carry.

"Please, no," he begged almost silently, shaking his head in denial as Ratchet knelt in front of him, reaching out one large, fluid–stained hand. Sam flinched away from it, back into Sideswipe's steady touch and Ratchet recoiled instantly, seeming to catch himself.

"I'm sorry, Sam." Ratchet said, so gently and that very gentleness seemed an aberration. "Every time I remove a portion of the virus, it spreads it further. It's already done a great deal of damage to his short term memory processors." He hesitated.

"Tell him, Ratchet." Sideswipe said quietly when Sam couldn't seem to force the words out himself.

"I can't get to his main memory banks. Everything around them is already corrupted. If I were to push through, I would carry the virus directly into it and risk infecting myself. Sam, I'm sorry. There's really nothing I can do."

He felt the faint stinging in his eyes and was almost surprised by the rush of dampness on his face. It almost didn't seem like he could be crying because this couldn't be real. It couldn't. For so brief of a time he'd had Bumblebee with him and it felt like so much time wasted, time spent arguing or trying to figure things out could have simply been spent together and this couldn't be real, please, it wasn't.

"Sam?" Optimus's low, grave voice. "If you wish to speak to him, you need to do it quickly. Once his main processors are affected, he will no longer be able to hear or comprehend."

Stepping forward was like a dream, his hands reaching out like they belonged to someone else. So small in comparison to Bumblebee's large ones, resting still on the low table that Ratchet had set up for surgeries. He could see the fruitless results of Ratchet's work, parts of Bumblebee torn open in such a visceral way, the corrupted portions no different to his eyes than those that made him up at his base.

"I really do love you," Sam choked out, laying his small, trembling hands over one of Bumblebee's large fingers and the world exploded. Brilliantly white light, like an avalanche of snow falling in front of his eyes and dimly Sam heard shouts, voices echoing senselessly through his skull before he reached out to it and fell within.

Bumblebee?

Yes, I'm here.

Where are we?

Here.

Here?

Yes. With me.

Bee? Don't leave me, please, I love you.

Sam...

~*~

It was like swimming through syrup, gluey wetness holding him down and Sam was too tired to struggle against it, and besides, it was warm, warm and comfortable and he could rest here a while if he wanted, he could, and--

"Sam, come on now, you can open your eyes."

When he tried, he found he could, blinking in the too-bright light. Ratchet's face was close to his own, his eyes glowing eerily in a way that meant he was scanning. Sam kept still even as he blinked in confusion, his body aching in a way that was entirely unpleasant.

"Wha--" It came out as a sort of croak and with surprisingly dexterity for so large a being, Ratchet plucked a glass of water from the side table and offered it to him. Blissfully cold and Sam drank it eagerly, thirst distracting him from his confusion over the various tubes threaded into his arms. For the first time, he noticed that he was wearing a hospital gown and he felt like he'd spent three days on the floor of a taxi.

"What happened?" Sam asked, bewildered.

"That's a question I've been asking myself," Ratchet said, tartly. "Quite frankly, I was more expecting to be attending a memorial ceremony rather than tending to a ward full of patients but I can't say I find it disagreeable."

Memory came back in a flood and the glass slipped from Sam's nerveless fingers, shattering on the ground. "Bumblebee--"

"--is resting in the next room," Ratchet finished. "And he's recovering quite well, as a matter of fact. Much better than you would expect from someone who was nearly scrap a week ago."

"A week--!"

"Yes, you've been unconscious for a full Earth week. My sensors just indicated that you were returning to consciousness." Ratchet busied himself with cleaning up the broken glass. "I was starting to get concerned but all your systems were normal. All you seemed to require was rest."

"But..." Sam broke off, his muzzy thoughts not catching up easily. "What happened?"

"As best as I can decipher, your immune system overloaded the virus and rendered it defunct. You have some of Bumblebee's receptors on you, even in you, I see." He gestured at the tattoo circling Sam's bicep. "Contact with Bumblebee kept them powered and eventually, through contact, they had an affinity to you. You probably gained more every time he touched you but they are so tiny, you hardly would have noticed. When you touched Bumblebee that night, they linked with his system and the virus infected you as well. But it was unable to adapt to your organic immune system. Your systems were able to destroy the pathogens and through your link with Bumblebee, his defense systems were able to identify the processes and react accordingly."

Sam was fairly sure that all of those words were English. Pretty sure. "Huh?"

The sound Ratchet made could have been amusement. "I believe in generic terms, when you touched him, he infected you with the virus and your immune system saved you both. I've heard of organics gaining an attachment to their simi's receptors but I've never seen it used in this fashion."

"So...I have like, my own receptors now? What does that mean?"

"You won't be growing antenna if that's your concern," Ratchet said dryly. "To you, it means very little. As you have no way to communicate with them, you can't consciously affect them. They'll likely boost your immune system and they'll respond to Bumblebee's command if you wanted something specific, possibly another tattoo?" He tilted his head as if listening to something just out of Sam's range of hearing. "As stimulating as this conversation is, there is someone who is most eager to see you and I'm afraid if I don't take you to him, he's going to start tearing out walls. If I may?"

It only took a moment for Ratchet to unplug Sam from a the beeping machinery surrounding him. Only the IV remained when he was done, one last uncomfortable tube in Sam's arm, and then Ratchet pushed him carefully through the door and into the main room. Sam could see glimpses of Bumblebee before he came into full view, gleaming yellow and black and it seemed impossible to think how near he'd come to never seeing that again.

"Now, here he is. Will you please remain still?" Ratchet said irritably. "I'd like the hours I spent recalibrating your systems to not go to waste."

"Yes, sir," Low, husky voice, still rusty from previous damage and it was the most beautiful thing Sam had ever heard. Blue optics focused on him, brightening visibly as they moved over him. He barely heard the door click shut as Ratchet left, all his attention focused on the being in front of him."

"Hey," Sam said, softly.

"Hey," Bee echoed, amusement vibrating in his voice, and suddenly this was so not enough. Carefully, Sam slipped out of the bed, wobbling on shaking knees and he heard Bee chirrup in alarm, ignored it as he gathered up his IV stand and stumbled over to him. He felt like an old man, at least a million years old and screw it if Optimus was that old, he was human. Leaning against the large metal table that served as Bumblebee's sickbed, Sam had to rest a moment, taking a deep breath before he caught a handhold on Bumblebee's side and started to climb. A large metal hand gently closed around him, boosting him up so he could curl up on Bee's chest. It was not comfortable, cold metal and hard bits poking at him in tender places but he felt better anyway. A blanket settled lightly over him and that helped immeasurably, the metal beneath him warming quickly enough that Sam suspected Bee was helping it along.

"Bumblebee?" Sam murmured, sighing as one metal finger stroked lightly down his back.

"Yes, Sam?"

"I love you." It seemed important to say it now, to let those words finally be between them properly.

The finger on his back went still for a moment before it resumed its gentle stroking. "Yes, I know."

"You know?" Sam moved to prop his head on his chin, looking up into Bee's optics.

"You told me fifty-seven times while Ratchet was attempting to circumvent the virus," Bumblebee told him.

"You counted?"

"I saved the voice files," Bee admitted, softly. "I was so very cold and alone, but I could hear you, Sam. You saved me."

"I heard," Sam said, sleepily. The warm metal of Bee's chest plate beneath his hands was slick to the touch, his fingers skimming over the smoothness. "Can you even feel this?"

"Yes, after a fashion." Sam could feel the vibration of Bumblebee's voice modulator as he spoke. "It's not how you understand sensation. It doesn't feel bad or good, it just is. We are not tactile, our intimacy takes place entirely within. It's organics who taught us how touch can bring pleasure." Soft, tired laugh. "You taught me."

"Couldn't it feel good, if you wanted it to?"

"I suppose. Why would you want it to? I can hardly make love to you in this form and I suspect Ratchet would not approve of such activity even if I could."

"You're touching me and it feels good. It doesn't have to be sexual, you know."

"All right." Softly.

More vibrations beneath his fingertips and for just a moment it was like Sam could feel...something. Some little echo in the back of his head that was too quiet to hear. It vanished as quickly as he felt it and he knew the exact moment Bumblebee began to feel, the quiet sigh of pleasure all the evidence he needed. For long moments, they touched each other, gentle caresses that spoke of emotion more than need and all too soon, Sam fell asleep, curled up against Bumblebee. Large metal fingers eased their pressure but never ceased, stroking the fragile human body so close to him and Bumblebee kept his scanners focused on that small form, focused on the gentle rhythm of his heartbeat.


-finis-


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