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Beauty Within	By : Scienceteacher Category: Transformers > G1 > Slash - M/M Views: 4014 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story

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Recycling

It seemed like an eternity that he fell. Suddenly, renewed agony tore through his chassis as his unprotected circuits hit the ground. Unable to even utter a moan, the Autobot weakly gasped. Then he blacked out as metal shards penetrated his naked sensory nets.. Ripping.. Destroying what little remained of his exterior nets.

Sometime later, he came to. He could feel the slight breeze of a planet’s atmosphere on his pressure circuits. The faint odor of decaying organic matter assailed his olfactory sensors. Too weak to move more than his fingertips, he rubbed his fingers against the surface he lay upon. Sure enough, it felt like a garbage dump. Shaking with sobs he realized that he’d truly become nothing but garbage. A worthless chassis.. So far gone, that there was no hope. His battered, naked frame – unrecognizable – even to his friends; unable to see or even speak, there was no way he’d ever find help anyways. Yes, this is how it would end for him; All alone and in pain. With no one to bear witness to his final tears.. No one to cradle him in their arms as his spark left his chassis.

For astrohours he lay, praying that death would come quickly. Take him away from the agony of his sensory networks.. The discomfort of his uninsulated systems getting chilled.. He wondered how it would feel to off line.. To leave the prison of his chassis and wander freely as a spark, dancing amongst the stars.. So he waited, and waited – for death. But it didn’t come. Instead, he heard the sounds of garbage Mechs coming closer to his side of the dump.

“Hey Droct, find any steel over there?” a female voice called. Her voice flitted through the planet’s air, like a lone cyberfalcon calling for a far away mate.

The sound of mech footsteps crunching through the garbage came very close. Then they stopped, so close that Bumblebee knew the garbage mech must be able to see him. “Nope,” A male voice answered. His tone was soft; the type of tone that bespoke of one that could be trusted. Bee listened to him, hearing him shift his weight. Perhaps turning and looking at him more fully as he spotted him?

“I’ll look over the other side,” the female called. Her voice sounded like it was going farther away as she must had turned and began her search for recyclables in that direction.

Bumblebee could sense the male garbage mech looking him over. He could envision those optics narrowing in thought as the stranger studied him. His battered, naked chassis – now half covered in trash. The mech took a step closer. He was now so close that Bee could feel the pressure of his weight packing down the garbage next to his left side. He felt a foot softly nudge one of his legs. “You still functioning?” the male named Droct asked softly.

Feeling a wave of hope soar through his meta at the mech’s question, Bee dared to show him he was alive.. Dared to dream of life over death.. Unable to speak and too weak to move much, Bumblebee barely wiggled his fingers. He felt a sense of desperation flow over him as he did so. He wanted the stranger to know he was still functioning. Perhaps… Perhaps the mech would show him some mercy? Carry him to an Autobot base or something?? Garbage crunched next to him as the mech knelt down; he felt the trash brushed off of him. “You poor mech, what happened to you?” Droct asked softly. Fingers softly ran over Bee’s exposed circuits along his back. Gently, he felt himself being turned over. A hand went under his helm, carefully lifting his head up. He could imagine the garbage mech peering into his shattered optics. Perhaps wondering who he was.. Perhaps wondering how he could help? Bumblebee prayed desperately that the mech would choose to help him.. Help the damaged stranger who had no one else to turn to…

Mech feet crunching on the garbage filled his audios. “Droct, you’re supposed to be looking for recyclables. What are you-” the female’s voice rang out. She cut herself off in mid-sentence. Obviously the femme had seen her companion kneeling next to him. This answered her question as to what the mech was doing.

“He’s still functioning, T’ran. He’s alive;” Droct mumbled as he carefully propped up the limp form of Bumblebee against his side. His arm going gently around the naked mech.. Almost protectively..

The femme sighed with exasperation. “You don’t have the funds left to fix up another one. When are you going to learn?” she snorted in disgust. Bee could imagine her optics narrowed to slits as she looked at him, judging his extensive damage. He wanted to yell to her that they didn’t need to fix him up, just get him to an Autobot base.. But he couldn’t.. He lay there, totally helpless.. Totally at the mercy of what they decided to do.. If they chose to leave him – he’d off-line soon.. If they chose to take him with them – he’d have a chance of making it.. Of living..

“But sis, I can’t just leave him out here. He’ll short out the second a rain comes through.” Bee felt himself being lifted up, cradled in the male’s arms like a human baby. The damaged mech so weak, he hung limply, not even able to lift his own head. But his meta was fully aware.. Listening to every word, every sound.. Hanging onto a simple hope..

As Droct picked him up, Bee could feel the femme’s fingers running over his shattered optics. “You just never learn, brother. You spend all your credits on parts, give these homeless wrecks your heart – then they just leave,” her voice was soft, the concern for Droct obvious. Bumblebee wished he could tell them that the Autobots would pay them back for the parts, he was not homeless! But he couldn’t, for Starscream had taken his voice away.

He heard Droct sigh, “But I can’t just leave him, I can’t.” The male gripped Bee’s naked form tighter to his chassis. As if he didn’t want to let him go.. Let him die - All alone in the dump… Fervently, the Autobot prayed that Droct would win this discussion, would take him with them. This garbage mech was his only hope.

“I just hope your not just setting yourself up for another letdown Droct,” T’ran said softly, “Give him to me and I’ll put him in your bed.” Bee could hear the resignation in her voice. She had obviously lost this same argument before with this ‘brother’ named Droct. But Bee was glad she’d lost. He now had a reason to hope.

Bee felt himself passed gently to the femme garbage mech. Hearing the sounds of transformation, he knew that Droct had transformed into some kind of ground alt mode. The femme’s feet crunched on the garbage as she carried him to Droct. Then pain ripped mercilessly through him, as the femme tried to gently put him in Droct’s bed, but with all of his circuits exposed – any hard surface was painful. But he couldn’t even shudder from the pain.. Couldn’t even shed a tear.. He had barely enough energon left in him to keep his vital systems functioning.. He had none to spare.

“Droct, you do realize how much it’s going to cost to rebuild him don’t you? He barely has twenty percent of his armor intact, and those optics will run a fortune;” T’ran continued as she gently turned Bee on his side and folded him into a fetal position. This got all of his arms and legs safely into the confines of Droct’s bed. Bee felt safe now that he was folded up into the male mech’s bed. He was safe from the torture. Safe from the rapes… Even with his meta screaming in agony from his raw circuits, he relaxed.

“It’ll just take time. I’ll fix him piece by piece,” Droct assured her, his statement also giving Bee more hope. For this garbage mech would eventually have him fixed up, and eventually he’d get back to the Autobots again. They’d pay this mech back for his kindness. And Bee would be back home.. Amongst his friends..

Bee heard the sound of a tarp being unfolded, and then T’ran put the plastic over him and tucked it around him. He was glad for the tarp, it helped hide his naked circuits from prying optics. It made him feel even safer. And under the tarp, a weak smile crossed his lips. “Since his vocals aren’t functioning, guess you’ll have to give him a nick name for now;” T’ran said to her brother.

Starting his engine, Droct mumbled; “Well, since his helm is painted yellow. I’ll just call him Yellow.”

Snuggled, secure in his bed, the barely functioning mech sighed as he relaxed for the first time in a long time. Yes, ‘Yellow’ was an ok nick name until he could tell them his real name. Yes, ‘Yellow’ was good…

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Beauty Within