Four Traps
Oct. 14th, 2009 10:09 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sorciereTitle: Four Traps Someone Almost Fell For... And One They Still Just Might
Rating: PG-13 for Cybertronian curses
Disclaimer: Nothing in here is mine and I promise to put them back in the box safe and sound when I'm done playing.
Warnings: Spoilers for RotF, but not the books or comics, most of which I haven't read and will cheerfully ignore. Slight AU from the very end of RotF.
Summary: Paranoia isn't a requirement for living on Diego Garcia – but it sure does help. Ca. 5000 words.
A/N: Set in the same slightly AU 'verse as the previous 'Four' fics and works as a companion-piece to 'Four Days' and 'Four Threats', covering the days that followed Will and Barricade's recovery. The next one will be a bit delayed – got some busy weekends coming up, so there'll be less time than usual to write in, so now you get a warning/apology in advance :/
Also, thank you, thank you, thank you to my amazingly awesome and patient beta for putting up with me and our regular discussions about writing styles and grammar. You make this series so much better than it could have been!
* * * *
1.
* * * *
It was morning two days after the search and rescue team had returned that Sam happened to meet Sarah Lennox on her way to the infirmary... or, as he'd later suspect, she had made a point of seeking him out and done a good job making it look like an accident.
With Annabelle at her side and after a good night of sleep, there was no sign that she had just spent four days worrying about her husband, and she smiled as she saw him. Guilt twisted Sam's stomach but he ignored it and fell into step with Sarah and offered a smile of his own in return, if a bit paler and a lot more tired.
“Are you sleeping again?” she asked, a slight, concerned frown as she got a closer look at him. “Mikaela was worried about you.”
Worried about me, Sam's mind echoed, and tried its best to fight aside the nasty thought that he wasn't the one they should have been worried about, when he had been home and safe on Diego Garcia when Will had been stuck with Barricade in his place.
“I'm sleeping,” he told her truthfully and conveniently kept from mentioning his nightmares, although knowing Sarah Lennox, she could probably guess just from looking at him. NEST wives, he had realised, could be every bit as relentless as their husbands.
An instant later he found his arms full of Annabelle as the little girl held up her arms at him, and Sarah swiftly picked her up to hand to Sam. He gave her a startled look, then looked at the girl and shifted her weight a bit as they kept walking.
“You're getting bigger, aren't you?” he said and grinned, almost in spite of himself. “Did Mikaela feed you ice cream all day? That's a bad babysitter.”
“Classified,” Annabelle grinned right back and squealed when he tickled her with one hand.
“You're as bad as your dad.” He ruffled her hair quickly and then put her down to let her walk on her own two feet again. She really was getting heavier. He hadn't realised how fast kids grew until he was around one on a sort-of-regular basis. Epps' wife and kids had been moved to Diego Garcia, too, for security reasons Sam really didn't like to think about, but even the youngest of that bunch had four years on Annabelle.
A heartbeat, and then he looked at Sarah again and asked the question that been gnawing on his mind all morning. “How's Will?”
Sarah offered a wry smile. “Going stir crazy,” she said. “He's fine, Sam. They'll release him tomorrow, and in another two weeks, they'll take off the cast. The broken arm was the only serious injury. The rest... he went through Ranger school. He's survived worse in training.”
And he probably had, but that didn't change the fact that it should have been Sam out there, not Will, and he started talking before he was even aware of it.
“I'm s-” Slag, he realised a second too late and stopped himself before he could finish the word. “I'm glad he's doing good,” he tried a bit lamely instead, and the ghost of a smirk on Sarah Lennox's lips told him he hadn't done a very good job of it.
“Nice save. I almost got myself a Saturday night babysitter there.”
Sam looked down, a bit sheepish, and Sarah reached out to touch his chin lightly. “He really will be fine, Sam, and I meant what I told Mikaela. It's not your fault. None of this is your fault. Stop feeling guilty about it all time.”
Sam nodded slightly, even if he didn't quite believe it, much less knew how to do something about it, and he hesitated for a second. “Can he get visitors?”
Sarah actually laughed slightly at that. “He'd be darn disappointed if he didn't. Come along, honey. He'll be happy to see you.”
And maybe, Sam realised, it was time he actually sat down and talked with someone about it all.
* * * *
2.
* * * *
It wasn't often Ratchet had been given the chance to work on a Decepticon, but it had happened. Former Decepticons in a few cases, although Wheelie had been put in Mikaela's care, but occasionally a genuine one as well. More often in the early years of the war, though – before offlining rather than capture and interrogation had become the norm rather than the violent exception – and he had paused to stare more than a few times as he worked on Barricade.
Decepticons, he knew from experience, came with nasty surprises, and not all of those surprises stopped being dangerous simply by putting the mech into stasis. Barricade had been no different.
“I deactivated his weapons and his transformation module,” Ratchet summarised to his Prime later that morning after their unwelcome guest had been put in a containment cell, having survived the night with no further issues. “It was offlined in the jump but was starting to bring itself back online. The space bridge module is a lump of slag. Completely melted. I doubt we can get anything from it, but I removed it to take a look at it later. His communications centre is offline as well, but that one will need repairs to get running again. I also mended his finger joints and the broken Energon lines that hadn't closed themselves and removed what soil and plant life remained under his plating.”
“He was in bad condition, then,” Optimus Prime remarked and looked slightly troubled – from the very clear evidence that this planet held more dangers to them than they had first thought, probably. Ratchet had been surprised at just how bad Barricade's condition had been, but he shouldn't have been. He suspected there had been a bit of arrogance in play from all of them. Humans lived in those rainforests just fine, after all. It wasn't an entirely welcome thought for most of them, however much they might hate to admit it, that their small allies really were much better suited for the planet than Cybertronians were.
“Three days more, and he would have been done for,” Ratchet said flatly. “And that's counting on his stubbornness to keep him going for that third day. Lennox needs to keep his arm in a cast for two weeks, but other than that, he'll be back on his feet in days. We might want to add that to the lessons for the new arrivals, Prime. Just because the humans can do something doesn't mean a Cybertronian can manage as well. There are things we are suited for and things we are not. Rainforests belong in the latter category.”
“Your recommendation has been noted,” Optimus Prime said. “Anything else?”
Ratchet snorted. “Standard Decepticon tactics, nothing more. The space bridge module had been booby trapped, as the humans call it. It was a bit more complex than the usual ones I've seen, but nothing a trained medic couldn't disarm. I'd wonder why they still insist on using those tactics, but the harsh truth is that there are precious few mechs left that are actually trained in the medical arts anymore. It costs them very little to create, and if they were captured, there would always be the chance it might take down an Autobot unfamiliar with those tactics.”
Still a vaguely troubled look as Optimus Prime nodded. “I am familiar with the concept and I am not surprised that Megatron would go to those extremes to protect his secrets. Those space bridges are one of his main advantages at the moment.”
Ratchet nodded. “And with a mech as loyal as Barricade, a trap such as that would not be dangerous to the Decepticon itself unless triggered by an outside force, such as us.” A pause. “Which brings me to another point, Prime. Barricade has an active symbiotic connection.”
“Frenzy was deactivated.”
“Deactivated and buried under three and a half miles of water,” Ratchet said. “Yes, I'm aware. It's not Frenzy. Barricade would have shut down that connection soon after Frenzy was deactivated. This connection is active and even with his communications centre offline, it's still searching for its symbiont. It's an active link, Prime. He has a symbiont somewhere. Perhaps left in the jungle, or perhaps it wasn't even present at the battle that started this whole thing. I do know that he's not currently carrying it around, and it wasn't present when Ironhide brought him here. Past that, I'd have to take a close look at the link to say anything and I can't do that right now without damaging his systems.”
Optimus Prime nodded at that. “I will pass that on.”
Silence after that, the question hanging unspoken in the air, because however useful information might be, there were some duties that their Prime did not look forward to. Ironhide undoubtedly did, Ratchet knew, and likely with disturbing pleasure at that, but Optimus Prime was not Ironhide.
Ratchet could sympathise with that, and as more than just a medic whose very spark told him to repair rather than destroy. Decepticons might find interrogating the enemy an entertaining duty, but by far the majority of Autobots did not, and the ones that did... there were things Ratchet preferred not to think about. War could change the spark of a Cybertronian.
“My opinion as your CMO? He's well enough to be questioned,” Ratchet finally said, because there was no reason to make his Prime ask when he already knew the question. “His processors are still too unstable from the ordeal to attempt hacking them, but plain interrogation won't offline him.”
“A Decepticon tactic,” Optimus Prime said quietly, and Ratchet shrugged.
“So it's useful to know that it's not an option. You won't have to feel guilty for not considering it, then. He's in forced stasis at the moment, but I'll bring him out of it on your order.”
Another long moment of silence, and then Optimus Prime nodded.
“Do it.”
* * * *
3.
* * * *
'Visitors', Sam realised the moment he stepped into Will's room in the infirmary, was an understatement – and judging from the glint in Sarah Lennox's eyes, she had known that when Sam asked to come along.
He had a million things to ask Will, a million things to feel guilty about, but it had all been scattered by the hurricane that was Will's room, crowded by people that were mostly familiar to Sam, and a few that weren't, and even Ironhide was there, putting up with it all with a slightly uneasy expression as the humans crowded the room.
Talking, laughing, carefully censored war stories, jokes and rude remarks about Decepticons in general and Barricade in particular, and it could have been half an hour, it could have been two, and slowly the room emptied again as one of the doctors showed up to check on Will's bandages.
Sam lingered for a moment, not sure if he should leave with Sarah and Annabelle as everyone else did, but Ironhide's hand blocked the door with careful, measured movements and Sam let himself be guided back to one of the chairs, confused but not really willing to argue with the large mech.
They waited in silence as the doctor did his work and Will rested and it wasn't until the doctor finally left again that Sam broke the silence of the room.
“So...” A vague gesture at the door and Ironhide, trying to explain without words, and Will gave a dry smile in response.
“You think I'd let you sneak off when Ironhide was nice enough to tell me you hadn't slept in days by the time they hauled my aft back here?”
Oh.
Sam ducked his head slightly at that and squished the small part of him that really wished he could just sink into the ground, because it was bad enough that someone had kept him up to date with Sam's utterly embarrassing reaction to it all, but the fact that it bad been Ironhide who had done it...
“Nightmares,” he explained and wrapped his arms around himself, gripping tightly. “I mean, I'm used to the 'Cons, it was just... it was Barricade, you know?” And no, he probably didn't, Sam realised and desperately wanted a rewind option for his mouth. “Barricade is... Barricade.”
Barricade, who had been the first 'Con he had met, who had tried to kill him repeatedly, and that voice still showed up in his nightmares, demon police cars to chase him when Megatron didn't take over that role.
“I know,” Will said quietly, and Sam looked up with a startled expression. “Blackout was nasty, but at least we killed him in Mission City. Now Scorponok... we saw that fragger get away. He was out there hiding for two years, and we had no idea of where he was. What was left of our team... none of us got a full night of sleep in a desert for those two years. Some of them still don't. We were always waiting for that thing to show up and finish what it started.”
Ironhide made a disgusted sound. “I have known battle-hardened warriors who froze in battle at the sight of Megatron. You defied him, human. There have been many mechs who couldn't even do that in the end. Barricade is a pathetic, cowardly excuse for a 'Con, but still a dangerous one of his kind. There has been no cowardice in your actions, Witwicky.”
“Still feels pathetic,” Sam muttered. “It should have been me out there, and there I was, weeping into my pillow like a little girl instead of being useful. Mature, reliable Autobot ambassador, that's me.”
And whatever reaction Sam had expected, the short, sharp laughter from William Lennox wasn't it. “That's just common sense, kid. God. You're younger than I was when I went through Ranger school. You're not trained for this stuff. We may have put you through the work-out, but there's not a single person on the NEST teams that hasn't had advanced training of some kind and the active combat experience to back it up.” He sobered a bit and offered Sam a wry smile as he continued. “You're supposed to be their ambassador. You get the basic training so you know what we're dealing with, but you were never supposed to end up in a situation like that. The 'Cons outsmarted us, that's all, and after getting up close and personal with fugly there, I get where you're coming from. If 'Cons have a shrink, Barricade needs to visit it. Slag.”
Will shuddered slightly, subconsciously, and Sam knew better than to give in to the small, curious voice that wondered what sort of stories Will could tell about the 'Con. He didn't need anything else to feed his nightmares, and even the thought of going to sleep next to a 'Con, much less Barricade... no. He had enough nightmares as it was.
“He is intelligent,” Ironhide confirmed, with the disgust in his voice that usually appeared when he talked about Decepticons. “A worthless, scheming glitch, too cowardly to fight like a real mech. He was trying to trap us right up until we deactivated him for the flight back.”
Will snorted. “If they'd sent someone smaller and less dangerous than 'Hide, the fragger would have attacked them when they let their guard down, cut them open, and used their parts to contact Megatron. 'Hide flat-out asked him. Know what the little slagger did? He smirked and said, 'it was an option'. If you want to freak about him, I won't say a thing about it.”
And yeah, definite nightmare fodder there, and 'Bee had won against Barricade once, but if he had been caught unaware... sure, Barricade had been a mess when they'd retrieved him, but it didn't change the fact that he was still dangerous. And now Barricade was somewhere on the island, maybe conscious and maybe not, and he was so close that Sam could almost feel his presence tainting the air.
“Where is he now?” Sam finally asked, almost dreading the answer but still desperately needing to know all the same.
Ironhide made another disgusted sound. “In containment. Ratchet brought him online again half an hour ago. Prime will contact me when it's time to interrogate the glitch.”
So Barricade was actually awake, which was enough to make Sam's heart beat slightly faster, but on the other hand Ironhide was sitting in Will's room, and there was no way he'd do that if there was any chance at all Barricade might cause trouble. That did make Sam feel better. Slightly. Except...
“And when that's done?” he asked quietly and didn't miss the long look between the soldier and the mech. “Are we going to just... keep him around?” Barricade stuck in a containment cell somewhere, maybe in stasis and maybe not, so close that Sam could almost reach out and touch him from anywhere on the island, and no, he couldn't deal with that. Not now, not Barricade, not spending every night worrying that the glitch would find a way to escape and go after him, but Primus, what was the alternative, and offlining prisoners in cold blood was a Decepticon thing to do, not something Autobots did, but this was war and-
“We'll see when it comes to that,” Will responded and interrupted Sam's mental rambles. His voice gave nothing away, even though Sam would have been willing to bet a month's salary that NEST and the Autobots had already covered that topic, and Sam knew that voice well enough to know he'd get nothing more out of him.
“So in other words,” Sam said, “trust Optimus to know what he's doing?”
Matching nods from Will and Ironhide, and Sam let out a slow breath. He wasn't even sure what answer he had hoped for, so he couldn't be sure if he was even disappointed or not, but trusting Optimus... he could do that. He'd learned the hard way that their Prime usually had it right, and he trusted the large mech with his life. He had learned that the hard way, too.
“All right.” And with that, a little bit of the nagging worry he had carried around was neatly bundled up and deposited in a mental trash can somewhere and the weight on his shoulders felt just a bit lighter.
From the bed Will gave Sam an approving look, and then leaned back against his pillow and made a small gesture towards the door, a wry smile on his lips.
“Good. That's settled, then. Now go, kid. Shoo. Go get some real sleep. I'm an old man and I need my rest, my doc and my wife say so.”
Sam grinned and let himself be sent back outside again, and while the grin faded a bit as he was alone again, the good mood did linger. There were still things to worry about, still plenty of issues to deal with, but for the first time in a week, things were looking up.
* * * *
4.
* * * *
The containment cells were heavily re-enforced, meant to hold considerably stronger mechs than the lone Decepticon that was currently inhabiting the cell in the corner, and the shock-trooper looked almost small in comparison to the room. Not that it was going to make Optimus Prime underestimate their prisoner in any way. It was still a Decepticon, and the fact that Barricade was not currently snarling insults or tearing at the wall did not mean that he was in any way harmless.
“Prime.”
Glowing red optics watched him as he stepped into the room and stopped in front of the cell, and Optimus was not surprised to see the arrogant defiance so common in Decepticons present in this mech as well. He looked in better shape than when they had retrieved him, but then, even a simple wash had worked wonders, much less Ratchet's repairs, and it was an uncomfortably real reminder that the planet held dangers even to Cybertronians.
“Barricade.” He paused, took in the minor signs of lingering injuries that a casual glance would have missed. Not many, granted – Ratchet was a medic above all, and Barricade, whatever his allegiance, was still a patient – but some injuries would take time to heal. “You are improving.”
The Decepticon made a disgusted sound, and if he was intimidated by being in the presence of a mech nearly twice his height, he didn't let it show. But then, he was used to Megatron, and Optimus knew his brother will enough to know how intimidating the Decepticon leader could be. “You are fools for repairing me. I am an enemy. But you know that already, Prime. Pathetic Autobot beliefs.”
Standard Decepticon approach as well, and Optimus Prime did not rise to the bait, his voice as calm and even as always. “I am amazed that you were able to hide your injuries so well. Ratchet tells me they were quite a bit worse than they appeared.”
Another disgusted sound. “Weakness is not a Decepticon virtue.” Barricade paused and then smirked, unpleasantly. “Nor is hacking processors an Autobot one. Would you have done it anyway, I wonder? Does the end justify the means? It's almost a pity my processors are still too unstable to try it. I'm curious.”
Barricade was as poisonous as Starscream and Megatron in his own way, and Optimus Prime wasn't going to forget that, either. The very fact that he was not just online but still serving Megatron after failing to stand by his leader in the Battle of Egypt was enough to tell all of them that Barricade was more than simply a shock-trooper. Starscream's treacherous ways were tolerated solely because the Air Commander was second to none in the sky. Barricade's second chance, Optimus suspected, had been granted because of the mech's strong loyalty to Megatron more than anything, and the rare show of mercy had turned that loyalty into unflinching devotion. It was a miracle that the Decepticon had let William Lennox live at all, however dire their situation had been.
“I see your ordeal hasn't affected your spark,” Optimus Prime remarked dryly. “You're welcome. I'll pass on your compliments to Ratchet.”
“The Hatchet.” Another unpleasant smirk. “You should ask him about this planet, while you're at it. Fleshling aggression is like a virus; an infection shared by every species on this pathetic ball of dirt. It's affecting us all. A pity when you're an Autobot and programmed to adapt to new worlds.”
Optimus ignored the obvious insults as well, still refusing to be baited, and Barricade's words did nothing more than confirm what he already knew – that letting Ironhide wait outside had been the right decision, however much said weapon specialist and unofficial bodyguard had objected to it.
“An interesting medical theory. Ratchet will be fascinated, I'm sure. It does now, however, change your situation. They will not come for you, Barricade” he said quietly. “We are both aware of Decepticon protocols. You are a thousand miles from the nearest mainland. I do not wish to see a fellow Cybertronian imprisoned, but neither can a Decepticon be allowed to run loose on this planet if we can prevent it.”
Red optics flared at that. “I am not for sale, Prime. My loyalty is to Lord Megatron.”
“I am aware,” Optimus responded calmly. “I'm merely making sure you understand your situation.”
Barricade made a short, harsh sound of almost-laughter. “Cooperate and be less violently offlined, if it had been one of your breed in our hands. Is that what you intend to do, Prime? Do you have the bearings to execute me, or would you leave it to your trained cannon out there to do it for you? I'd make up my mind soon, in your case. I am a Decepticon. No Autobot can cage a Decepticon worthy of the name.”
Another deliberate bait, although that one struck too close to some of the uncomfortable thoughts Optimus had been forced to deal with about their choices with Barricade, and he changed the topic as much to keep their prisoner off-balance as to keep from getting any closer to those uncomfortable thoughts again.
“Why Samuel?” he asked. Red optics narrowed slightly, calculating and suspicious, and Optimus continued. “The trap was set for him, even if it failed. It is a lot of work simply to target one small human.”
Metal teeth bared in a mocking grin. “Maybe Lord Megatron enjoys his company. I hear they make for excellent pets. You would know.”
“A lot of work,” Optimus repeated dryly and ignored the taunt, “for one human. You were close to losing one of your own for no other reason than to kidnap the boy. I have a hard time believing Megatron would value one human life above his own soldiers.”
Almost-flattery, even if he was reasonably sure it wouldn't work on Barricade, but it wouldn't hurt.
Those red optics narrowed again. “It is not my place to question his wishes.”
“I'm sure it isn't,” Optimus agreed, and he could feel Barricade's glare as the Decepticon tried to decide if it had been an insult and finally settled for silence as Optimus continued. “You are still recovering, Barricade. You were close to offlining when we found you. I merely ask you to consider your situation.”
“And I already have your answer, Autoscrap. Hack me if you want your answers. Offline me if you want to keep me caged. No true Decepticon will bow to your kind.”
It, too, was standard Decepticon procedure, and they both knew that as Optimus nodded once and turned to leave the room again, keeping his more worried thoughts well hidden. It was standard Decepticon procedure, but some took those words more seriously than others, and talking with Barricade had only confirmed what Optimus already knew. The Decepticon wasn't going to yield. Sooner or later, they would have to decide what to do with him, and indefinite stasis to be put on trial for war crimes when the war was over was looking increasingly like the most realistic option available.
He would still be questioned, of course, but Optimus knew as well as Barricade did that they would gain nothing from it. Hacking could give them what they needed, but it was a Decepticon tactic, and a line Optimus Prime had refused to cross even as the war had gotten grittier, more violent, more ruthless.
Some humans, Optimus knew, would use that method without flinching if told about it. He prayed to Primus he would never reach that point himself.
* * * *
5.
* * * *
Ten thousand miles and half a day away, an insignificant marker on a datapad changed from dormant to active with a small signal and made Megatron pause for a moment before he picked up the datapad. A check of the data confirmed what the marker already showed, and still eyeing the datapad, he accessed a familiar communications channel. Verification first. He knew what the data meant if it was valid, but he wasn't going to simply assume that was the case.
“Soundwave. Something came online in the Autoscum's base. Verify.”
The response came instantly; calm, emotionless, and efficient. “Soundwave: acknowledges. Drone: active. Barricade: assumed online and in proximity.”
Barricade.
Annoyance and anger flared at the thought, one clawed hand digging into the softer metal of his chair before he pushed most of the anger aside again to consider the situation. He had assumed Barricade offlined and had been more than a bit annoyed at the loss of the chance to punish the mech for his failure himself, but if the drone was anything to go by, that assumption had been wrong.
“And the worthless slag himself?” Megatron half-snarled, not completely able to keep the annoyance out of his voice. Barricade had let himself be taken out by fleshlings. A careful plan, so close to succeeding, had failed because of one worthless mech.
“Location: unknown. Drone range: twenty-two kilometres.”
Somewhere on the island that housed the enemy main base, then, since the drone had responded to the worthless glitch, and for a moment Megatron was tempted to simply deactivate the drone and leave Barricade without even that backup, then decided against it. If nothing else, perhaps the thing would offline a few fleshlings before someone crushed it.
Imprisonment and interrogation was the most likely fate of the mech himself, but even if the Autoscum hadn't been too soft-sparked to use proper methods, Megatron had little doubt that Barricade would stay loyal. He knew the punishment of treason. Not even Optimus Prime could save the worthless glitch from a slow, painful offlining if he decided to turn on his Lord, and Barricade knew that as well.
Perhaps the glitch had a plan. Perhaps he would merely be a pest to Prime before the Autoscrap finally offlined him for good. Either way, Megatron wasn't going to step in. Failure like Barricade's could only be forgiven once.
Decision made, he turned his attention to his communications officer again. “Keep me updated on this.”
“Soundwave: acknowledges.”
The datapad remained in his hand, the purple marker glowing slightly in a sea of Autobot insignias, and then Megatron put it aside. Soundwave would contact him with any new developments. He had no desire to assist a mech who had failed him twice, but he would still keep an optic on the situation. Barricade had been taken out by fleshlings, but perhaps he could still redeem himself.
Redeem himself or be offlined, by one faction or the other. Megatron had shown mercy once. It would not happen again.
Rating: PG-13 for Cybertronian curses
Disclaimer: Nothing in here is mine and I promise to put them back in the box safe and sound when I'm done playing.
Warnings: Spoilers for RotF, but not the books or comics, most of which I haven't read and will cheerfully ignore. Slight AU from the very end of RotF.
Summary: Paranoia isn't a requirement for living on Diego Garcia – but it sure does help. Ca. 5000 words.
A/N: Set in the same slightly AU 'verse as the previous 'Four' fics and works as a companion-piece to 'Four Days' and 'Four Threats', covering the days that followed Will and Barricade's recovery. The next one will be a bit delayed – got some busy weekends coming up, so there'll be less time than usual to write in, so now you get a warning/apology in advance :/
Also, thank you, thank you, thank you to my amazingly awesome and patient beta for putting up with me and our regular discussions about writing styles and grammar. You make this series so much better than it could have been!
* * * *
1.
* * * *
It was morning two days after the search and rescue team had returned that Sam happened to meet Sarah Lennox on her way to the infirmary... or, as he'd later suspect, she had made a point of seeking him out and done a good job making it look like an accident.
With Annabelle at her side and after a good night of sleep, there was no sign that she had just spent four days worrying about her husband, and she smiled as she saw him. Guilt twisted Sam's stomach but he ignored it and fell into step with Sarah and offered a smile of his own in return, if a bit paler and a lot more tired.
“Are you sleeping again?” she asked, a slight, concerned frown as she got a closer look at him. “Mikaela was worried about you.”
Worried about me, Sam's mind echoed, and tried its best to fight aside the nasty thought that he wasn't the one they should have been worried about, when he had been home and safe on Diego Garcia when Will had been stuck with Barricade in his place.
“I'm sleeping,” he told her truthfully and conveniently kept from mentioning his nightmares, although knowing Sarah Lennox, she could probably guess just from looking at him. NEST wives, he had realised, could be every bit as relentless as their husbands.
An instant later he found his arms full of Annabelle as the little girl held up her arms at him, and Sarah swiftly picked her up to hand to Sam. He gave her a startled look, then looked at the girl and shifted her weight a bit as they kept walking.
“You're getting bigger, aren't you?” he said and grinned, almost in spite of himself. “Did Mikaela feed you ice cream all day? That's a bad babysitter.”
“Classified,” Annabelle grinned right back and squealed when he tickled her with one hand.
“You're as bad as your dad.” He ruffled her hair quickly and then put her down to let her walk on her own two feet again. She really was getting heavier. He hadn't realised how fast kids grew until he was around one on a sort-of-regular basis. Epps' wife and kids had been moved to Diego Garcia, too, for security reasons Sam really didn't like to think about, but even the youngest of that bunch had four years on Annabelle.
A heartbeat, and then he looked at Sarah again and asked the question that been gnawing on his mind all morning. “How's Will?”
Sarah offered a wry smile. “Going stir crazy,” she said. “He's fine, Sam. They'll release him tomorrow, and in another two weeks, they'll take off the cast. The broken arm was the only serious injury. The rest... he went through Ranger school. He's survived worse in training.”
And he probably had, but that didn't change the fact that it should have been Sam out there, not Will, and he started talking before he was even aware of it.
“I'm s-” Slag, he realised a second too late and stopped himself before he could finish the word. “I'm glad he's doing good,” he tried a bit lamely instead, and the ghost of a smirk on Sarah Lennox's lips told him he hadn't done a very good job of it.
“Nice save. I almost got myself a Saturday night babysitter there.”
Sam looked down, a bit sheepish, and Sarah reached out to touch his chin lightly. “He really will be fine, Sam, and I meant what I told Mikaela. It's not your fault. None of this is your fault. Stop feeling guilty about it all time.”
Sam nodded slightly, even if he didn't quite believe it, much less knew how to do something about it, and he hesitated for a second. “Can he get visitors?”
Sarah actually laughed slightly at that. “He'd be darn disappointed if he didn't. Come along, honey. He'll be happy to see you.”
And maybe, Sam realised, it was time he actually sat down and talked with someone about it all.
* * * *
2.
* * * *
It wasn't often Ratchet had been given the chance to work on a Decepticon, but it had happened. Former Decepticons in a few cases, although Wheelie had been put in Mikaela's care, but occasionally a genuine one as well. More often in the early years of the war, though – before offlining rather than capture and interrogation had become the norm rather than the violent exception – and he had paused to stare more than a few times as he worked on Barricade.
Decepticons, he knew from experience, came with nasty surprises, and not all of those surprises stopped being dangerous simply by putting the mech into stasis. Barricade had been no different.
“I deactivated his weapons and his transformation module,” Ratchet summarised to his Prime later that morning after their unwelcome guest had been put in a containment cell, having survived the night with no further issues. “It was offlined in the jump but was starting to bring itself back online. The space bridge module is a lump of slag. Completely melted. I doubt we can get anything from it, but I removed it to take a look at it later. His communications centre is offline as well, but that one will need repairs to get running again. I also mended his finger joints and the broken Energon lines that hadn't closed themselves and removed what soil and plant life remained under his plating.”
“He was in bad condition, then,” Optimus Prime remarked and looked slightly troubled – from the very clear evidence that this planet held more dangers to them than they had first thought, probably. Ratchet had been surprised at just how bad Barricade's condition had been, but he shouldn't have been. He suspected there had been a bit of arrogance in play from all of them. Humans lived in those rainforests just fine, after all. It wasn't an entirely welcome thought for most of them, however much they might hate to admit it, that their small allies really were much better suited for the planet than Cybertronians were.
“Three days more, and he would have been done for,” Ratchet said flatly. “And that's counting on his stubbornness to keep him going for that third day. Lennox needs to keep his arm in a cast for two weeks, but other than that, he'll be back on his feet in days. We might want to add that to the lessons for the new arrivals, Prime. Just because the humans can do something doesn't mean a Cybertronian can manage as well. There are things we are suited for and things we are not. Rainforests belong in the latter category.”
“Your recommendation has been noted,” Optimus Prime said. “Anything else?”
Ratchet snorted. “Standard Decepticon tactics, nothing more. The space bridge module had been booby trapped, as the humans call it. It was a bit more complex than the usual ones I've seen, but nothing a trained medic couldn't disarm. I'd wonder why they still insist on using those tactics, but the harsh truth is that there are precious few mechs left that are actually trained in the medical arts anymore. It costs them very little to create, and if they were captured, there would always be the chance it might take down an Autobot unfamiliar with those tactics.”
Still a vaguely troubled look as Optimus Prime nodded. “I am familiar with the concept and I am not surprised that Megatron would go to those extremes to protect his secrets. Those space bridges are one of his main advantages at the moment.”
Ratchet nodded. “And with a mech as loyal as Barricade, a trap such as that would not be dangerous to the Decepticon itself unless triggered by an outside force, such as us.” A pause. “Which brings me to another point, Prime. Barricade has an active symbiotic connection.”
“Frenzy was deactivated.”
“Deactivated and buried under three and a half miles of water,” Ratchet said. “Yes, I'm aware. It's not Frenzy. Barricade would have shut down that connection soon after Frenzy was deactivated. This connection is active and even with his communications centre offline, it's still searching for its symbiont. It's an active link, Prime. He has a symbiont somewhere. Perhaps left in the jungle, or perhaps it wasn't even present at the battle that started this whole thing. I do know that he's not currently carrying it around, and it wasn't present when Ironhide brought him here. Past that, I'd have to take a close look at the link to say anything and I can't do that right now without damaging his systems.”
Optimus Prime nodded at that. “I will pass that on.”
Silence after that, the question hanging unspoken in the air, because however useful information might be, there were some duties that their Prime did not look forward to. Ironhide undoubtedly did, Ratchet knew, and likely with disturbing pleasure at that, but Optimus Prime was not Ironhide.
Ratchet could sympathise with that, and as more than just a medic whose very spark told him to repair rather than destroy. Decepticons might find interrogating the enemy an entertaining duty, but by far the majority of Autobots did not, and the ones that did... there were things Ratchet preferred not to think about. War could change the spark of a Cybertronian.
“My opinion as your CMO? He's well enough to be questioned,” Ratchet finally said, because there was no reason to make his Prime ask when he already knew the question. “His processors are still too unstable from the ordeal to attempt hacking them, but plain interrogation won't offline him.”
“A Decepticon tactic,” Optimus Prime said quietly, and Ratchet shrugged.
“So it's useful to know that it's not an option. You won't have to feel guilty for not considering it, then. He's in forced stasis at the moment, but I'll bring him out of it on your order.”
Another long moment of silence, and then Optimus Prime nodded.
“Do it.”
* * * *
3.
* * * *
'Visitors', Sam realised the moment he stepped into Will's room in the infirmary, was an understatement – and judging from the glint in Sarah Lennox's eyes, she had known that when Sam asked to come along.
He had a million things to ask Will, a million things to feel guilty about, but it had all been scattered by the hurricane that was Will's room, crowded by people that were mostly familiar to Sam, and a few that weren't, and even Ironhide was there, putting up with it all with a slightly uneasy expression as the humans crowded the room.
Talking, laughing, carefully censored war stories, jokes and rude remarks about Decepticons in general and Barricade in particular, and it could have been half an hour, it could have been two, and slowly the room emptied again as one of the doctors showed up to check on Will's bandages.
Sam lingered for a moment, not sure if he should leave with Sarah and Annabelle as everyone else did, but Ironhide's hand blocked the door with careful, measured movements and Sam let himself be guided back to one of the chairs, confused but not really willing to argue with the large mech.
They waited in silence as the doctor did his work and Will rested and it wasn't until the doctor finally left again that Sam broke the silence of the room.
“So...” A vague gesture at the door and Ironhide, trying to explain without words, and Will gave a dry smile in response.
“You think I'd let you sneak off when Ironhide was nice enough to tell me you hadn't slept in days by the time they hauled my aft back here?”
Oh.
Sam ducked his head slightly at that and squished the small part of him that really wished he could just sink into the ground, because it was bad enough that someone had kept him up to date with Sam's utterly embarrassing reaction to it all, but the fact that it bad been Ironhide who had done it...
“Nightmares,” he explained and wrapped his arms around himself, gripping tightly. “I mean, I'm used to the 'Cons, it was just... it was Barricade, you know?” And no, he probably didn't, Sam realised and desperately wanted a rewind option for his mouth. “Barricade is... Barricade.”
Barricade, who had been the first 'Con he had met, who had tried to kill him repeatedly, and that voice still showed up in his nightmares, demon police cars to chase him when Megatron didn't take over that role.
“I know,” Will said quietly, and Sam looked up with a startled expression. “Blackout was nasty, but at least we killed him in Mission City. Now Scorponok... we saw that fragger get away. He was out there hiding for two years, and we had no idea of where he was. What was left of our team... none of us got a full night of sleep in a desert for those two years. Some of them still don't. We were always waiting for that thing to show up and finish what it started.”
Ironhide made a disgusted sound. “I have known battle-hardened warriors who froze in battle at the sight of Megatron. You defied him, human. There have been many mechs who couldn't even do that in the end. Barricade is a pathetic, cowardly excuse for a 'Con, but still a dangerous one of his kind. There has been no cowardice in your actions, Witwicky.”
“Still feels pathetic,” Sam muttered. “It should have been me out there, and there I was, weeping into my pillow like a little girl instead of being useful. Mature, reliable Autobot ambassador, that's me.”
And whatever reaction Sam had expected, the short, sharp laughter from William Lennox wasn't it. “That's just common sense, kid. God. You're younger than I was when I went through Ranger school. You're not trained for this stuff. We may have put you through the work-out, but there's not a single person on the NEST teams that hasn't had advanced training of some kind and the active combat experience to back it up.” He sobered a bit and offered Sam a wry smile as he continued. “You're supposed to be their ambassador. You get the basic training so you know what we're dealing with, but you were never supposed to end up in a situation like that. The 'Cons outsmarted us, that's all, and after getting up close and personal with fugly there, I get where you're coming from. If 'Cons have a shrink, Barricade needs to visit it. Slag.”
Will shuddered slightly, subconsciously, and Sam knew better than to give in to the small, curious voice that wondered what sort of stories Will could tell about the 'Con. He didn't need anything else to feed his nightmares, and even the thought of going to sleep next to a 'Con, much less Barricade... no. He had enough nightmares as it was.
“He is intelligent,” Ironhide confirmed, with the disgust in his voice that usually appeared when he talked about Decepticons. “A worthless, scheming glitch, too cowardly to fight like a real mech. He was trying to trap us right up until we deactivated him for the flight back.”
Will snorted. “If they'd sent someone smaller and less dangerous than 'Hide, the fragger would have attacked them when they let their guard down, cut them open, and used their parts to contact Megatron. 'Hide flat-out asked him. Know what the little slagger did? He smirked and said, 'it was an option'. If you want to freak about him, I won't say a thing about it.”
And yeah, definite nightmare fodder there, and 'Bee had won against Barricade once, but if he had been caught unaware... sure, Barricade had been a mess when they'd retrieved him, but it didn't change the fact that he was still dangerous. And now Barricade was somewhere on the island, maybe conscious and maybe not, and he was so close that Sam could almost feel his presence tainting the air.
“Where is he now?” Sam finally asked, almost dreading the answer but still desperately needing to know all the same.
Ironhide made another disgusted sound. “In containment. Ratchet brought him online again half an hour ago. Prime will contact me when it's time to interrogate the glitch.”
So Barricade was actually awake, which was enough to make Sam's heart beat slightly faster, but on the other hand Ironhide was sitting in Will's room, and there was no way he'd do that if there was any chance at all Barricade might cause trouble. That did make Sam feel better. Slightly. Except...
“And when that's done?” he asked quietly and didn't miss the long look between the soldier and the mech. “Are we going to just... keep him around?” Barricade stuck in a containment cell somewhere, maybe in stasis and maybe not, so close that Sam could almost reach out and touch him from anywhere on the island, and no, he couldn't deal with that. Not now, not Barricade, not spending every night worrying that the glitch would find a way to escape and go after him, but Primus, what was the alternative, and offlining prisoners in cold blood was a Decepticon thing to do, not something Autobots did, but this was war and-
“We'll see when it comes to that,” Will responded and interrupted Sam's mental rambles. His voice gave nothing away, even though Sam would have been willing to bet a month's salary that NEST and the Autobots had already covered that topic, and Sam knew that voice well enough to know he'd get nothing more out of him.
“So in other words,” Sam said, “trust Optimus to know what he's doing?”
Matching nods from Will and Ironhide, and Sam let out a slow breath. He wasn't even sure what answer he had hoped for, so he couldn't be sure if he was even disappointed or not, but trusting Optimus... he could do that. He'd learned the hard way that their Prime usually had it right, and he trusted the large mech with his life. He had learned that the hard way, too.
“All right.” And with that, a little bit of the nagging worry he had carried around was neatly bundled up and deposited in a mental trash can somewhere and the weight on his shoulders felt just a bit lighter.
From the bed Will gave Sam an approving look, and then leaned back against his pillow and made a small gesture towards the door, a wry smile on his lips.
“Good. That's settled, then. Now go, kid. Shoo. Go get some real sleep. I'm an old man and I need my rest, my doc and my wife say so.”
Sam grinned and let himself be sent back outside again, and while the grin faded a bit as he was alone again, the good mood did linger. There were still things to worry about, still plenty of issues to deal with, but for the first time in a week, things were looking up.
* * * *
4.
* * * *
The containment cells were heavily re-enforced, meant to hold considerably stronger mechs than the lone Decepticon that was currently inhabiting the cell in the corner, and the shock-trooper looked almost small in comparison to the room. Not that it was going to make Optimus Prime underestimate their prisoner in any way. It was still a Decepticon, and the fact that Barricade was not currently snarling insults or tearing at the wall did not mean that he was in any way harmless.
“Prime.”
Glowing red optics watched him as he stepped into the room and stopped in front of the cell, and Optimus was not surprised to see the arrogant defiance so common in Decepticons present in this mech as well. He looked in better shape than when they had retrieved him, but then, even a simple wash had worked wonders, much less Ratchet's repairs, and it was an uncomfortably real reminder that the planet held dangers even to Cybertronians.
“Barricade.” He paused, took in the minor signs of lingering injuries that a casual glance would have missed. Not many, granted – Ratchet was a medic above all, and Barricade, whatever his allegiance, was still a patient – but some injuries would take time to heal. “You are improving.”
The Decepticon made a disgusted sound, and if he was intimidated by being in the presence of a mech nearly twice his height, he didn't let it show. But then, he was used to Megatron, and Optimus knew his brother will enough to know how intimidating the Decepticon leader could be. “You are fools for repairing me. I am an enemy. But you know that already, Prime. Pathetic Autobot beliefs.”
Standard Decepticon approach as well, and Optimus Prime did not rise to the bait, his voice as calm and even as always. “I am amazed that you were able to hide your injuries so well. Ratchet tells me they were quite a bit worse than they appeared.”
Another disgusted sound. “Weakness is not a Decepticon virtue.” Barricade paused and then smirked, unpleasantly. “Nor is hacking processors an Autobot one. Would you have done it anyway, I wonder? Does the end justify the means? It's almost a pity my processors are still too unstable to try it. I'm curious.”
Barricade was as poisonous as Starscream and Megatron in his own way, and Optimus Prime wasn't going to forget that, either. The very fact that he was not just online but still serving Megatron after failing to stand by his leader in the Battle of Egypt was enough to tell all of them that Barricade was more than simply a shock-trooper. Starscream's treacherous ways were tolerated solely because the Air Commander was second to none in the sky. Barricade's second chance, Optimus suspected, had been granted because of the mech's strong loyalty to Megatron more than anything, and the rare show of mercy had turned that loyalty into unflinching devotion. It was a miracle that the Decepticon had let William Lennox live at all, however dire their situation had been.
“I see your ordeal hasn't affected your spark,” Optimus Prime remarked dryly. “You're welcome. I'll pass on your compliments to Ratchet.”
“The Hatchet.” Another unpleasant smirk. “You should ask him about this planet, while you're at it. Fleshling aggression is like a virus; an infection shared by every species on this pathetic ball of dirt. It's affecting us all. A pity when you're an Autobot and programmed to adapt to new worlds.”
Optimus ignored the obvious insults as well, still refusing to be baited, and Barricade's words did nothing more than confirm what he already knew – that letting Ironhide wait outside had been the right decision, however much said weapon specialist and unofficial bodyguard had objected to it.
“An interesting medical theory. Ratchet will be fascinated, I'm sure. It does now, however, change your situation. They will not come for you, Barricade” he said quietly. “We are both aware of Decepticon protocols. You are a thousand miles from the nearest mainland. I do not wish to see a fellow Cybertronian imprisoned, but neither can a Decepticon be allowed to run loose on this planet if we can prevent it.”
Red optics flared at that. “I am not for sale, Prime. My loyalty is to Lord Megatron.”
“I am aware,” Optimus responded calmly. “I'm merely making sure you understand your situation.”
Barricade made a short, harsh sound of almost-laughter. “Cooperate and be less violently offlined, if it had been one of your breed in our hands. Is that what you intend to do, Prime? Do you have the bearings to execute me, or would you leave it to your trained cannon out there to do it for you? I'd make up my mind soon, in your case. I am a Decepticon. No Autobot can cage a Decepticon worthy of the name.”
Another deliberate bait, although that one struck too close to some of the uncomfortable thoughts Optimus had been forced to deal with about their choices with Barricade, and he changed the topic as much to keep their prisoner off-balance as to keep from getting any closer to those uncomfortable thoughts again.
“Why Samuel?” he asked. Red optics narrowed slightly, calculating and suspicious, and Optimus continued. “The trap was set for him, even if it failed. It is a lot of work simply to target one small human.”
Metal teeth bared in a mocking grin. “Maybe Lord Megatron enjoys his company. I hear they make for excellent pets. You would know.”
“A lot of work,” Optimus repeated dryly and ignored the taunt, “for one human. You were close to losing one of your own for no other reason than to kidnap the boy. I have a hard time believing Megatron would value one human life above his own soldiers.”
Almost-flattery, even if he was reasonably sure it wouldn't work on Barricade, but it wouldn't hurt.
Those red optics narrowed again. “It is not my place to question his wishes.”
“I'm sure it isn't,” Optimus agreed, and he could feel Barricade's glare as the Decepticon tried to decide if it had been an insult and finally settled for silence as Optimus continued. “You are still recovering, Barricade. You were close to offlining when we found you. I merely ask you to consider your situation.”
“And I already have your answer, Autoscrap. Hack me if you want your answers. Offline me if you want to keep me caged. No true Decepticon will bow to your kind.”
It, too, was standard Decepticon procedure, and they both knew that as Optimus nodded once and turned to leave the room again, keeping his more worried thoughts well hidden. It was standard Decepticon procedure, but some took those words more seriously than others, and talking with Barricade had only confirmed what Optimus already knew. The Decepticon wasn't going to yield. Sooner or later, they would have to decide what to do with him, and indefinite stasis to be put on trial for war crimes when the war was over was looking increasingly like the most realistic option available.
He would still be questioned, of course, but Optimus knew as well as Barricade did that they would gain nothing from it. Hacking could give them what they needed, but it was a Decepticon tactic, and a line Optimus Prime had refused to cross even as the war had gotten grittier, more violent, more ruthless.
Some humans, Optimus knew, would use that method without flinching if told about it. He prayed to Primus he would never reach that point himself.
* * * *
5.
* * * *
Ten thousand miles and half a day away, an insignificant marker on a datapad changed from dormant to active with a small signal and made Megatron pause for a moment before he picked up the datapad. A check of the data confirmed what the marker already showed, and still eyeing the datapad, he accessed a familiar communications channel. Verification first. He knew what the data meant if it was valid, but he wasn't going to simply assume that was the case.
“Soundwave. Something came online in the Autoscum's base. Verify.”
The response came instantly; calm, emotionless, and efficient. “Soundwave: acknowledges. Drone: active. Barricade: assumed online and in proximity.”
Barricade.
Annoyance and anger flared at the thought, one clawed hand digging into the softer metal of his chair before he pushed most of the anger aside again to consider the situation. He had assumed Barricade offlined and had been more than a bit annoyed at the loss of the chance to punish the mech for his failure himself, but if the drone was anything to go by, that assumption had been wrong.
“And the worthless slag himself?” Megatron half-snarled, not completely able to keep the annoyance out of his voice. Barricade had let himself be taken out by fleshlings. A careful plan, so close to succeeding, had failed because of one worthless mech.
“Location: unknown. Drone range: twenty-two kilometres.”
Somewhere on the island that housed the enemy main base, then, since the drone had responded to the worthless glitch, and for a moment Megatron was tempted to simply deactivate the drone and leave Barricade without even that backup, then decided against it. If nothing else, perhaps the thing would offline a few fleshlings before someone crushed it.
Imprisonment and interrogation was the most likely fate of the mech himself, but even if the Autoscum hadn't been too soft-sparked to use proper methods, Megatron had little doubt that Barricade would stay loyal. He knew the punishment of treason. Not even Optimus Prime could save the worthless glitch from a slow, painful offlining if he decided to turn on his Lord, and Barricade knew that as well.
Perhaps the glitch had a plan. Perhaps he would merely be a pest to Prime before the Autoscrap finally offlined him for good. Either way, Megatron wasn't going to step in. Failure like Barricade's could only be forgiven once.
Decision made, he turned his attention to his communications officer again. “Keep me updated on this.”
“Soundwave: acknowledges.”
The datapad remained in his hand, the purple marker glowing slightly in a sea of Autobot insignias, and then Megatron put it aside. Soundwave would contact him with any new developments. He had no desire to assist a mech who had failed him twice, but he would still keep an optic on the situation. Barricade had been taken out by fleshlings, but perhaps he could still redeem himself.
Redeem himself or be offlined, by one faction or the other. Megatron had shown mercy once. It would not happen again.