Ever Fleeting
By Snare-chan
Pairings: Implied Ironhide/Ratchet
Ratings: K+
Category(ies): Romance
Warning(s): Slightly spoilerish?
Status: One-shot, complete
Summary: (2007 Movie Verse) Ironhide, Ratchet, and the presence of time.
Notes: This was something I wrote in 2007 and never got around to posting until now. Like most things I've done as of late, this was a request, and it was from umi_mikazuki! She wanted Ironhide/Ratchet action.
Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers; wish I did like everybody else. They should put TF in stock, then I'd buy it all!
When it comes to Cybertronians, their perspectives are a bit skewed in comparison to most other beings. One such perspective is time. With almost unlimited life spans, patience is expanded to entirely new levels. An Earth-hour to them can be felt, but easily forgotten, like a fleeting second to a human, and age is only truly demonstrated with experience or in the way some gears grind from overuse.
Ratchet was still rather new to this medical assignment he'd been given. He wasn't necessarily fresh out of the academy by any means, but a couple centuries in the local hospitals obviously hadn't prepared him for the sensations he'd experience on a battle front. Sure, the onslaught of wounded mechs and nearby explosions was stressful and distracting, but the real challenge came with the soldiers.
In this case, it was an operative by the name of Ironhide. Ratchet in particular had never met him personally, yet he'd certainly heard of him, in one form of another, and seen him around often enough to recognize him, at least. If his cannon shots weren't echoing through camp, then stories of his mentality and the headaches he's caused for the medical staff most certainly were. A no-nonsense, gung-ho, ornery, tough, and notably the most…
"PUT ME DOWN. I CAN STILL FIGHT THEM."
…stubborn Autobot this side of the planet, he was avoided at all costs. You could knock him down, but Primus help the unfortunate soul when he got back up, cannons blazing, to push right back with double the amount of force. This is normally all well and good in a war; however, any healing personnel on hand who had to deal with him were less than thrilled.
Today it looked like it was at last Rachet's turn to put up with him.
"Sir, kindly put your assault weapons away, or I will do it for you," Ratchet directed tersely, coming around the side as two mechs set the formidable gun expert down, the both of them retreating almost immediately as if sensing some kind of nuclear fallout about to occur. In a cosmically funny way, it was probably a rather accurate assessment on their part.
"BUT-"
Leaning down so that they were nearly face plate-to-face plate, he spoke to him in a tone that booked no room for argument.
"I don't like repeating myself. Power down or I'll manually cut you off. And I can assure you, you won't like it if I have to do the latter."
Glowering right back at the doctor in return, they shared a drawn out, silent battle of wills. With a determined air, Ratchet began to reach for the other's neck, intending to do as he'd promised, before the audible whir and click click of cannons retracting gave him pause.
It didn't take long for word to travel, and Ratchet was wordlessly voted to handle that particular mech from now on.
Suffice it to say, certain things in their lives aren't instantaneous. They grow, accumulating in such a way that each instance – separated – is just a small ripple in the stream that is time, until at last the waves strike shore for completion.
The round hemisphere nestled on the center of the screen had Ironhide feeling a lot of things, which was a strange occurrence all its own since he was hardly one to give other forms of life and their locations much consideration. Except…with nothing really to occupy his current existence except waiting to arrive in Earth's quadrant, and send Bumblebee on the search for the Allspark, and with nothing around to blow up, he had more than ample time to contemplate. To him, this was never a good thing because it…reminded him about a lot of unpleasant things.
"It's beautiful, isn't it?"
He inclined his head, watching as their head medical officer…their only head medical officer, approached, taking residence on the railing nearby with his elbows and staring up at the same overview.
"It's…very blue. And green," he replied in kind, unable to think of much else to say on the subject that didn't involve cursing fate and how backwater they currently were.
The other chuckled softly.
"Not nearly as much as the last one we visited. That one was over 87% water, whereas this one is only 70%."
"Still far too wet," he harrumphed under his breath, before properly responding with, "Been doing some more research with Jazz, have you?"
"This place is fascinating, Ironhide. The humans are so diverse-"
"And primitive."
"And adaptive," Ratchet shot back, frowning at him slightly.
"And violent."
"Remind you of someone?"
Ironhide roughly snapped his lips closed, the grinding of metal on metal stark in the sudden silence. His anger simmered inside him for a moment, ready to burst free in the form of words he'd be Most Likely to Regret at some later date, probably in the form of painful repairs when the doctor would have to inevitably fix him at a later date. But before he could voice any complaints, a sigh escaped the other's intakes in a long hiss.
"My apologies. That was rash, even for me. It's just…I feel as if we have so much we can learn from them. They've had clashes of their own and…they ended. They recovered, and managed to move on. It's such a bizarre concept, having been struggling with this war of ours for so long…"
That effectively knocked the wind out of Ironhide's proverbial sails, a huff seeping out of him along with any anger he'd been harboring.
"It shouldn't be much longer. We'll get there, retrieve the Allspark, and, while we're at it, put those Decepticons in their place. Then we can go back home."
Ratchet hm'ed softly.
"What will you do, when the war is over?"
The question caught him off guard for a moment, his shoulders shifting around and his head bowing.
"I haven't really thought that far ahead yet…what about you?"
His answer was immediate; he'd obviously thought about it previously.
"I want to go into the sparkling care unit. With the Allspark, we'd have some running around again. I'd love to assist raising the next generation."
"You'd be good at that, I think."
A comfortable silence, rare but not unheard of, replaced the somber and heated one from before, the both of them settling their gazes on the screen showcasing the alien planet they were beginning to approach. Like so many things, though, it didn't last for long.
"Thank y-"
"With your comforting bedside manner and pleasant disposition, I have no doubt in my mind you'd keep every single young spark within a 500 mile radius in check."
The medic openly scowled at him for the added, unnecessary comment, causing Ironhide to smirk at what he perceived to be a well-earned victory.
The beings of Earth have a saying – "the more things change, the more things stay the same." For a people with such minor lifetime expectancies in comparison to the Cybertronians, it's rather fitting to even those outside their species, summing up the basic principles behind the lives of every mechanical being that makes up what's left of their society. Half the time the universe stands still, whole worlds motionless on their axis as nothing is lost or gained, while on the opposite side of the spectrum, everything is turned upside down. It might just take a while to get there, but even when that occurs…
Really, the both of them were wondering how they'd gotten into this predicament. They knew how it'd started all right, but the outcome wasn't one either had clearly foreseen. When Annabelle – now a full grown woman of 35, with twin terrors to call her own - had invited them for a 'small' get together among friends and family, a four generations' worth reunion was not what they'd imagined. Their reactions to this varied, Ratchet in particular rather amused at the sight while Ironhide had every intention of reversing full speed back to base.
Neither stood a chance. Little hands from children ages four through ten were all over them, demanding to see the amazing 'robot heroes,' their transformed bodies quickly becoming the best playgrounds. Idly, Ratchet's optics took in the sight of each biological being that weaved under the bridge of his legs, screaming and cheering as they played a game in which they sought to tag one of their companions. For those not running around they were clambering all over Ironhide's form, wanting to be the one to claim hierarchy on his top most perch, though he only permitted them to his chest.
Their only reprieve from the madness was when their parents called them over to eat, playtime turning in for nourishment. At the weapon specialist's sigh you would have assumed he'd just escaped from holding the world and its problems on his shoulders, though Ratchet saw straight through it.
"You two holding up okay?" a familiar, male voice asked from down below, and their attention was drawn to Will Lennox, now a bit grey around the ears but no less spirited than the day they'd met him. He was smiling, hands casually stuffed deep down his pockets, having probably been taking in the sight of his grandkids and the rest of the young family and their friends turning the giant robots into their personal domain.
"We're doing quite alright," Ratchet assured, resting a hand on his fellow soldier. Though he didn't appear to think much of it nor look like he was going to remove the appendage anytime soon, Ironhide did take notice of his touch and stared at his hand for a lingering moment. Normally they didn't go out of their way to have physical contact, unless of course the mech was in serious need for repairs or to be reprimanded, which was certainly not the case right now.
"Ironhide and I are made of tougher material than you give us credit for and can easily withstand anything the human offspring can think to have us endure."
"I'm not so sure about that. As I recall, my little munchkin did quite the number on a certain someone's paintjob with some permanent markers when she was still just a rugrat."
Letting the other's hand rest there without complaint, the weapon's specialist instead diverted his attention to more pressing matters, retorting back to the captain's statement with, "He's right; they don't call me IRONhide for nothing. Such previous endeavors were nothing more than a temporary inconvenience."
"Suuure, whatever you say. Now what's your excuse behind the months of wailing about how demeaning it is for such a high-ranking officer to be colored in silver sharpie forest animals and little whiteout hearts?"
"I wasn't 'wailing,' I was merely stating the obvious."
"Of course, of course…" The man laughed, obviously not buying it.
The doctor joined in with his own chuckles, remembering quite vividly the artwork that Mr. Lennox spoke of, and added in with, "You must admit, my friend, it was quite the look for you."
His hand tightened on his shoulder, demonstrating that he was jesting, and Ironhide harrumphed dejectedly, a ghost of a smile betraying his own amusement. All around them people were laughing – excited, happy, and content in their peace.
Everything carries on.
-Fin-
A/N: I'll be the first to admit that I took some liberties with these guys. Especially the first scene, but since we're never really told how they met (in movie verse at least) just take it like it is like a man! The second I feel is a bit obscure if no one has started reading the novel Transformers: Ghosts of Yesterday by Alan Dean Foster. It takes place in the year of 1969 while everyone is still traveling in space (though according to the movie it was more like 1930, so just realize it's basically when the transformers Haven't Arrived Yet), which was what I was playing off of. The last one, obviously, is that of the future, where unanimity is presumed to exist.