Epilogue

The hillsides lay quiet, their forests resting in the deep of winter. The trees were barren, their autumn display gone as if had never been. Snow marked the hilltops, and frost was everywhere, painting the world in shades of grey and white. There was a cold snap in the air, a chill that made Bumblebee shiver. At least that's what he told himself, and what he'd swear if Sam, sitting in his driver's seat, or Wheeljack and Sideswipe, following close behind him, noticed his shudders.

It felt strange to be driving these roads, a full four months after his cruelly interrupted journey. The weeks he'd spent undergoing repairs, voiceless or dormant had felt like a lifetime, and not just for Bumblebee himself. He didn't blame Optimus Prime and Ratchet for keeping him close to base in the weeks since. He hadn't been keen to venture far himself, revelling in his ability to finally speak to his fellow Autobots, to rebuild friendships and reassure a team that thought him lost forever.

He'd had other reasons to accept his limited freedom and the inevitable constant companionship too. All the times he'd dreamed of leaving NEST, he'd accepted the revenge of the Decepticons as a price worth paying. With that necessity gone, he was as keen to heed his friends' warnings as they could hope for. More so. It wasn't until he found himself bolting back for the hangar at the unexpected sound of a human-built helicopter overhead that he stopped to look at his own behaviour. The realisation that he'd come to associate the world outside NEST with his own inevitable destruction came with a bitter taste.

He was an Autobot scout. He'd survived more time alone in this war than most humans could comprehend. He'd certainly survived more than one skirmish with his courage and honour untarnished. Okay, so this time he'd come close to returning to the All-Spark once and for all. That had always been a possibility and, at its most fundamental level, now that the viruses were flushed, nothing had changed. Nothing but Bumblebee himself. He'd never been a 'bot who jumped at shadows. He wasn't prepared to become one now.

He'd seen the understanding and pride in Optimus Prime's eyes when he'd gone to his leader and told him that he wasn't going to let a single failure against a surprise attack rule his life.

Part of him had wanted to come on this journey alone, simply to make that point. The more rational side of him, and the side that, despite everything, ducked on his wheels every time the shadow of an aircraft passed overhead, had been more than willing to accept company when his friends offered it. He wasn't going to live his life in fear, but he couldn't deny his survival had made him a target. There was no point in making it an easy one.

"You're quiet, Bee."

If he'd been in his bipedal form, Bumblebee might have shrugged. As it was, he hummed briefly, warming up his still little-used voice, and activated his dashboard speakers. "Not much to say."

They were halfway to Sam's college town now, not far from the coordinates of Bumblebee's first, useless distress signal. Sideswipe and Wheeljack had GPS to tell them that, closing in behind him and reassuring him simply with their presence. Sam had only instinct to work with, an instinct that told him his friend was uneasy.

"It must have hurt."

"Not as much as what came after."

Sam patted his steering wheel, the gesture at once awkward and reassuring.

"It's over, Bee. And, okay, I know things are pretty tough right now, but you know what hanging around you guys has taught me? The world's a big place, and it's got some pretty scary stuff in it. Getting scared is normal. It's what keeps you alive. But, you know what? You get scared, and then you get over it. And you kind of come out stronger for it."

Bumblebee thought that over for a few long moments, comparing the boy's words with his lifetime of experience. He couldn't deny their truth.

"Thank you, Sam," he said quietly.

"Any time, Bee. Any time."

There was silent for a while after that, the mayday coordinates passing by with nothing more than a shudder of relief from Bumblebee and of memory from his friends.

It was perhaps a dozen miles further down the road that something caught Bumblebee's optics. He slowed, Wheeljack and Sideswipe easing to a halt behind him in response to his request for a stop. He felt their concern as he transformed, lowering Sam to the ground beside him and just staring down at the carpet of spring flowers, filling the sheltered valley below. A moment of mechanical music later, his friends stepped up beside him, looking out across the frost-blighted hillsides and letting their optics scan past the valley, oblivious to the golds and reds, the orange and blue flowers that spoke of a warm spring to come and a new year ahead.

Wheeljack eyed him up and down, carefully keeping his voice nonchalant. "Everything okay, Bee?"

Sideswipe wasn't so good at hiding his anxiety, unsheathing his blades and retracting them again in a nervous gesture before his gaze swept the landscape again, searching for threats. "What're we doing here?"

Bumblebee smiled at them, feeling warm for the first time in far too long.

"Enjoying the colours."

The End