Angelic- this is a little short chaptered story dedicated to my friend smounged1989, who happens to be the Skyfire to my Starscream (Trust me. He's the Skyfire… I'm much smaller and louder in comparison). Happy birthday my friend! May all your dreams come true. Dirty grin And before you all say something, I have been working on my stories. This will be updated at my leisure, and it WILL be short, unlike my legendary lengths… This is more of a drabble series, or collection of interrelated one-shots. Got it?

Dedicated to: see above

Disclaimer- I do not own Transformers. Title comes from a flowering plant that's beautiful (dark purple petals, some even look black like Ironhide), frost hardy (hard like Ironhide XD), tall (as in grows taller than some people!), and can suffer from chlorosis, which apparently means it's not getting enough iron. I lol'ed. That and I can't think of a better title. Fuck my life.

Summary: Even heroes don't always get to keep the girl. Mikaela and Sam end it right there on the ship back to Diego Garcia, and the last mech he thought would care helps him pick up the pieces of his life in a way that changes everything. IronhidexSam

Note: It was requested by smounged1989 that this be an Ironhide x Sam fic, with romance, starting after Egypt and on the ship, and Ironhide helping Sam get over a particularly nasty breakup with Mikaela. Ironhide is also with Chromia at first, but of course that changes later… and then I was free to experiment.

Clematis Romantika

Chapter o1- Breaking and Mending

"Speech"

'Thought'

On the Ship Back to Diego Garcia-

Normal POV

Sam didn't know where it all went wrong.

He had been talking to Optimus on their way back to NEST headquarters on the huge ship when Mikaela came storming towards him. He took a step back in alarm and felt Optimus shift on his stabilizing servos right next to him as the unusually angry female stomped towards him.
"Sam?"

He swallowed a bunch of saliva and felt a lump of nerves form in his throat. "…Yeah?"

She gave him a steely glare and tugged on his arm. "We need to talk." Without leaving him room to argue, she pulled him away…

…and the rest was all a blur of angry words, gestures, tears and harsh volumes that made his ears ache. He was all too aware of the still-stinging pain in his right cheekbone and on his chest from being hit and shoved away… he could still hear the sounds of her heels slapping the concrete of the floor below him as she strode away. Even though his body was there, feeling and experiencing all of that, his mind felt disconnected from his body… as though he was merely observing.

Through all of the fight and back to the present, there were only a few phrases that stuck out in his mind. Some of them happened to be Mikaela's never-ending questions of "why?" He could not be with her anymore… not when he knew that he didn't love her. He had finally told her, only to see her large blue eyes become covered by a film of tears. She'd gotten especially furious then… furious, and heartbroken.

Sam hadn't raised a fist or even the volume of his own voice. He knew he deserved it for not telling her; but he'd only completely admitted it to himself during the whole mess in Egypt and beyond. Before that he had felt the stirrings of discontent and even a small amount of revulsion when he saw how Mikaela herself kept changing.

Mikaela Banes was beautiful, brave, clever, and quick to take action… and she had wanted him to drown himself in normality. She wanted him to dream of a nice house, a picketed fence, kids and a mundane suburban life after college. He had wanted it once… but not anymore. And that extended to having her as his wife and lover.

Sam Witwicky didn't love Mikaela Banes, and she hadn't liked that. Her manicured nails, once so pristine and whole, were broken and chipped from the abuse her body had taken through the journey. Her luxurious black hair was singed, sand was caked on her scalp and her normally tanned skin was bruised with smears of black, blue, and purple. The stress of it all had snapped Sam before, but he had reacted with deep depression and self-blame. Mikaela snapped and turned her fists into tools that accurately expressed her rage.

It only took a few minutes of the blows to attract attention, and it was a pissed off Will who had come to Sam's aid and got her taken away. Words escaped the soldier's mouth but didn't quite make it to Sam's ears, until he heard names mentioned. "Ironhide, take him to Ratchet, would you? I've gotta go deal with a scorned woman and I really don't want to get others involved 'till he's in the right hands."

"I'll take care of him, Will." Sam hadn't realized the large black mech was even here… perhaps he'd been more out of it than he thought? He watched Will rush out of the hallway and into another section of the ship, and it wasn't until a soft blast of the Topkick's horn startled him into turning around. He twisted his spine to peer at him, and was greeted with the sight of a door inviting him into the cab of Ironhide's alt mode.

Sam openly gaped at him for a few minutes, unabashedly staring at the form several meters away. He had never gotten to ride in Ironhide's alt mode before… that privilege generally belonged to Will, who worked with the weapons specialist frequently on missions. Another impatient horn blast knocked him out of his thoughts and he hurriedly clambered into the passenger's side, in the "shot gun" seat. In comparison to his scramble to board, he slowly and gently closed the door and put his seatbelt on.

"You don't need to do that. There are no threats of Decepticons in the vicinity, nor is there such a deadly thing as "traffic" here," Ironhide's crisp voice sounded through the cab as they started to move. Apparently he didn't believe in seatbelts…

Sam shrugged and kept his on anyway. "It's a habit. You know, to help keep me from smashing through your windshield and into the asphalt? Yeah. I think it's a good one."

"Humans…" Ironhide grumbled. "You're safe now. I am not driving above what is deemed as the "speed limit" of this hallway and you still complain."

Sam's expression went dark and he bitterly ground out, "I might be safe for now from the Decepticons, but I have other things to worry about that my affect my health."

That was enough to shut up Ironhide for a few minutes, and for a time, silence graced Sam's ears. The older teen moodily stared through the window at the changing scenery, frowning at the quietness. He'd moved from shock to a mix of depression and anger. The way he slumped on his seat and hid his face from Ironhide's visual sensor feed (on the inside of the cab) made the Autobot grow concerned, and he finally spoke up.

"…Why did Mikaela attack you?"

Sam sighed and straightened in his seat a little as his weary brown eyes gazed at the translucent expanse of the windshield. "She attacked me because I told her that I don't love her, and she got really upset…"

Ironhide inwardly flinched at that. He knew all too well what could happen if a femme got upset… especially what it meant for him if he made Chromia angry. The slim blue femme was, to put it in human terms, his "girlfriend," and she could scare him in ways no Decepticon truly could. "I see…"

"Is that all you're going to say? That you see? See what? That my ex-girlfriend beat the crap out of me and that I should man up or something?" Sam looked like he was going to explode at that, and he was grabbing the upholstery with a grip that felt annoyingly painful, and Ironhide grew irritated, but grudgingly supportive of the Witwicky.

"Samuel… I am not going to pity you for incurring the wrath of a femme when the smart thing was to tell her." Sam opened his mouth to argue, but was cut off when Ironhide continued. "I can, though, understand your fear. I know what it's like… I used to be a real charmer back before the war started-" at that Sam snorted- "and Chromia wanted to slag me for the fact that I seemed more devoted to combat and weapons than her." He could still remember the words she had spoken… "Is your duty as an Autobot more important than your feelings?" He didn't answer her then… He hadn't known exactly how he felt. Time went on and he realized things, but ultimately, he couldn't choose. That was his mistake, and even though they were still together and fighting together, their relationship was less fiery, with muted passion and uneasy words whispered between bodies on the berth they occasionally shared… Ironhide knew he could identify with this kid, and in a way that he never thought he could.

The drive gave them both time to think, and though the conversation was short, the depth of the thoughts shared and the feelings that they pondered made them feel as if they'd spent hours together. As Ironhide pulled up to the outside of the temporary med bay, he gently bade a temporary farewell to the boy. "I am sorry about Mikaela… but perhaps it is for the best that you two don't stay together."

"…I know." He did know. His bruises would heal and fade, but the memory of this encounter and the years preceding it would never truly go away. He'd still feel pain… but his friends could help him get through it.

Sam stepped out of the Topkick and once again closed the door in that same gentle manner, taking care not to make too much noise. He wanted to see Ratchet when he wanted to, and talk to Ironhide until he was satisfied. Though he had no more time now, he felt a strange sense of longing build up in his chest. He realized how little he truly knew about the weapons specialist, and vowed to get to know him better. Why not? Ironhide knew… and the best sort of therapy one could get was the kind of talk he had just had.

With a smile on his face, Sam gently placed his hand on the side of Ironhide's alt mode. It lightly traced the contours of the upper left hand side of the door, and basked in the warmth that radiated into his skin. He was so warm… and alive. It was comforting, and Sam continued to trace and swirl his finger into shapes that would appear illegible from far away. A blink, and he was a step away, then another, and then another until he was finally outside the closed med bay doors. The young man then gave him a wave before stepping inside, and Ironhide watched him leave with a funny, tingling feeling in his spark.

The words written into the fine coating of dust had only one meaning, and he treasured it.

"Thank you."

Anj: despite the weird ass drama and soft-sparked hint of fluff, I liked it. I hope you did too…expect to see more development as this continues on. Once again, happy birthday Smounged! My crazy partner-in-crime, my Nappa, and my Skyfire. Hope you liked this! Review, or I'll give you that crazy look of disdain that has everyone freaking. Seriously, don't make me do it. .-.