Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers.

A/N: Yeah, I hadn't meant to add another chapter onto this story, but the bunny bit and wouldn't let go. :)

This is Sam's version of events. It's a little longer than Bee's version, and written slightly differently. Please tell me if you like the new chapter, or felt it was better with one.

Thanks!

Warnings: This does have some swear words and death is a major theme. It's meant to be sad and does involve character-death.

~o.0.o~

An Eternity of Inevitability

~o.0.o~

Sam could feel death waiting.

It hovered just out of his range of sensing, but it was there none the less. It felt like a great black force, empty and endless and inevitable, but also peaceful.

Welcoming.

There was an endless silence in that nothingness, and though his arms and legs would be shaking and doused in a cold sweat if only his body had the strength to do either, there was also comfort in that silence.

Because silence meant Bumblebee, and Bumblebee was his comfort.

Sam could feel him; feel Bumblebee waiting outside the hospital. If anyone asked how he knew, he wouldn't be able to say. But Bumblebee was there, and Sam could feel him like he could once feel the suns' rays softly resting against his skin.

And just like he could feel Bees' presence, he could also feel his pain and –oh, please, Primus, Sam, don't leave me! – his fear; such a thick, endless terror that Sam could only fathom because he felt the same.

Oh, how Bees' pain made his heart ache.

To leave him so soon...

He had known that he would have to eventually; he was not immortal after all, and the sad fact of the matter was that one day his body would break down and decay and finally cease to work. He was simply not made to last long.

But still, he was supposed to have more time. Time that would not, and could never be enough, but more all the same.

He was supposed to have many more opportunities to laugh and to smile and to cry. He was supposed to be able to enjoy many more silences with Bumblebee, and then to break them by whispering three little words that he never failed to delight in hearing when they were echoed back.

He was not supposed to be dying at the fragile age of twenty-three.

~o.0.o~

Cancer was a bitch of a thing.

Dizzy spells, migraines and collapsing at random times were only the beginning; it didn't take long for the combined efforts of multiple operations and several horrifying rounds of chemotherapy to nearly convince him that he was ready to just give up and die.

It shamed him, to think of how close he had been to giving up. Of how close he had come to just saying goodbye.

But persistence, and obstinate pigheadedness, paid off, and the news came that all that torture and effort had actually worked.

Following that, there was a euphoric period of almost violent relief. He and Bumblebee had celebrated in the best way possible, and the feelings of profound love and joy lasted the few months that they were permitted.

Three months; that's how long he had to live – something that was suddenly oh-so precious after his recent brush with death.

Three months; and then the tumour was back.

After that everything started to move very fast.

A mountain load of tests were conducted; being poked and prodded was not Sam's idea of a good time. But still, throughout it all, he had been conscious of Bee waiting anxiously outside, alone in the hospital car park. His presence had warmed him in a way his parents' constant worry hadn't.

Then the news came; he was dying.

And there was nothing anyone could do.

Suddenly, he had become one of many; those that were forsaken because their death was foresee-ably near, and unstoppable.

He had never felt more alone.

~o.0.o~

That is not to say that his friends and family abandoned him.

No, they were there; worrying and fussing over him like through their care and concern alone they could somehow stall the inevitable. It was that – their pain and worry – that so alienated him.

His mum and dad –

They broke, for a lack of a better term. He had never seen them so drawn or tired or scared.

Knowing that he was the reason that they suddenly looked far older than they should; that the pain and fear was for him; knowing that there was nothing he could do to ease it –

It hurt like Hell.

Mikaela and Miles visited often, and he dreaded those visits the most.

Oh, don't get him wrong; he did appreciate the thought. But, truthfully, neither of them knew how to act around him, so their visits consisted of awkward babbling followed by tense silences, interspersed with repressed snivelling. It only served to remind him that he was dying.

Was it wrong of him that at times he felt angry at them, for being able to live when he could not?

...Yes, he supposed it was. But humans have never been the most logical of creatures, and he was of no exception.

So it fell to Bumblebee to offer the solace he so sought.

~o.0.o~

During the rounds of chemotherapy, he and Bee had started taking drives off into the country. It was a time out for Sam that offered a temporary relief from illness and medicine and overprotective parents.

So it was really only logical that the drives became almost daily things after the terminal diagnosis, as he sought relief again – this time from overprotective parents and friends and death. He felt surrounded by death at that time – like it was hovering over him, just waiting to snap him up and never let him go.

At first, Bumblebee had tried to do the good friend thing and get him to talk. Only thing was, he had had enough of questions and explanations and meaningless, endless chatter.

It was so easy to snap.

To scream and release all the hate and anger – and fear – that so corrupted his insides, and to strike out at the silent form of his friend that surrounded him. To then collapse upon himself to try and heal the gaping hole that was left behind with a seemingly endless flood of sorrow, and know that it was okay.

Because Bumblebee had him, and Sam knew that he wouldn't let go.

The rest of the ride was passed in silence.

As Bee rolled smoothly into his driveway, Sam considered what to say. He thought of 'sorry', but it seemed somehow ungrateful. 'Thank you', irrelevant. 'I love you', presumptuous.

In the end, he hadn't meant to say what he did, but it escaped his chapped lips anyway. He made no move to take it back; it conveyed everything.

"It's not fair, Bee."

He swayed as he got out, clinging frantically to his friends' door and trying to suppress a wince at how hoarse and weak his voice sounded.

His mum was there then, worried and questioning, and Sam was forcibly reminded of why he and Bee were driving in the first place. But he felt better; purged of all that was horrible in him. He was sure that it would be back, but for now, it was okay.

So he allowed his mother to lead him away, conscious of Bumblebee sitting silently at his back.

Yes.

For now, it was okay.

~o.0.o~

It was only five weeks later that he and Bumblebee were driving along an abandoned road.

Silence stretched between them, weighed heavy with their pain and fear. But it wasn't uncomfortable; pain and a fear were a constant these days, and sharing them with someone else without words was just a small slice of peace that Sam revelled in.

The choking feeling of death was worse that day; somehow more stifling, more ominous. Like it was closer.

So Sam blamed that when his mouth opened without conscious thought, and words came spilling out.

"I'm scared Bee."

Was that really his voice, echoing around the cabin?

There was a pause, before, "Sam?"

Bee was confused; Sam could hear it, along with the seemingly ever-present fear.

"I'm scared," Sam repeated, then on impulse added; "What will it be like Bee?"

That couldn't be his voice. His wasn't so small or weak or fragile.

Mercifully, Bee didn't need to ask what he meant. He knew him well enough.

"I don't know Sam. I don't know."

Sam nodded his head woodenly.

What had he expected? Older and far more knowledgable than he the Autobots most certainly were, but they were not omniscient.

They did not know what happened after death; only the dead had that privilege.

Personally, Sam believed in reincarnation. Call it wishful thinking, but he couldn't bear the thought that his death would be the end. That nothingness was quickly approaching, inescapable and inevitable.

He couldn't bear the thought that he would never see Bumblebee again.

"Bee?"

He blamed the stupid cancer for his inability to hold his tongue.

"Yes, Sam?" Came the reply, calm and cool, yet somehow failing to hide the pain that echoed weakly through Bee's voice.

"We'll see each other again right?"

Desperation coloured the voice that was most definitely not his.

There was an endless pause, then; "What do you mean Sam?"

Stupid. Of course he was confused. He probably didn't even believe in an afterlife.

But Sam clarified all the same.

"In the next life. We'll see each other again, right?"

Anxiety raged as he waited for Bee's answer. Surely Bee agreed with him; surely he could see that death could not be the end? That Sam simply must meet him again? Surely that wasn't so hard to grasp?

And if his thoughts were slightly hysterical, well. Surely he was entitled to a little panic every now and again?

It was forever and an age later that an answer was finally decided upon. And when it was uttered, it slipped into the air between them like something new and wonderful and pure.

"Of course, Sam. Nothing could keep me from you."

Somehow, in face of that, Sam found all his pain and fear vanish, and the constant shroud of death that hang over him retreat silently.

Of course he and Bumblebee would meet again. How could he ever have doubted?

~o.0.o~

It was that same night that death returned, and this time it wasn't taking no for an answer.

Five weeks; five pitifully short weeks was all he was allowed in the end.

Five weeks to live.

Five weeks to love Bumblebee.

Five weeks to be loved in return.

Five weeks.

Then it was over.

~o.0.o~

Sam could feel death waiting.

It hovered just out of his range of sensing, but it was there none the less. It felt like a great black force, empty and endless and inevitable, but also peaceful.

Welcoming.

There was an endless silence in that nothingness, and though his arms and legs would be shaking and doused in a cold sweat if only his body had the strength to do either, there was also comfort in that silence.

Because silence meant Bumblebee, and Bumblebee was his comfort.

Sam could feel him; feel Bumblebee waiting outside the hospital. If anyone asked how he knew, he wouldn't be able to say. But Bumblebee was there, and Sam could feel him like he could once feel the suns' rays softly resting against his skin.

And just like he could feel Bees' presence, he could also feel his pain and –oh, please, Primus, Sam, don't leave me! – his fear; such a thick, endless terror that Sam could only fathom because he felt the same.

He felt like he was being pulled in two directions.

Bumblebee was there; waiting with him, impatient and lonely and heartbroken. And – oh, God – it killed him, not to rush towards him and to cling and never let go.

His heart and mind were screaming for Bumblebee; aching to return to him, to see him one more time.

To whisper 'I love you' once again.

But his body was tired; exhausted. It had done its' best, fought for every day and hour and minute that he had lived waiting, waiting for this one.

And through it all, death watched. Patient like no other force, it waited for his mind to succumb, to follow the body that was yanking him towards peace.

And inevitably, he did.

He felt it as his body gave up, as his heart spluttered to an end and his lungs ceased to function.

"Bee?"

Vaguely, he was aware of a woman screaming, a man shouting – Mum? Dad? – but they were background noises.

"Yes Sam?"

Because he could hear Bumblebee's Spark breaking, accompanied by the vicious squeal of his tyres as he sped away.

"We'll see each other again right?"

As death threatened to consume him entirely, Sam couldn't help the hurt that flashed through him, even though he knew it to be unfair.

"What do you mean, Sam?"

Sam had left him first after all; Bee had every right to leave him behind.

"In the next life. We'll see each other again, right?"

Sam was surrounded by darkness then, but still, he could feel Bumblebee; like he could once feel the suns' rays softly resting against his skin.

"Of course, Sam. Nothing could keep me from you."

Next time... Next time, I promise I won't leave you. Not first, not ever.

Then there was nothing but black nothingness and a final sense of inevitability.

Bee was gone, and Sam was alone.

~o.0.o~

Fin

~o.0.o~

Authors Request: You've all been wonderful with writing reviews and adding this fic to your favourite lists; I don't reply to every review, unfortunately, but I do realy appreciate the feedback you've given me. :)

If you could tell me what you think of this chapter and any mistakes I've made or areas I could improve on, then I would really, really appreciate it.

Thank you!