Disclaimer: No ownership of the characters or universe claimed or implied.

Pre-empting any confusion: this is no AU and there are no OCs. I'm just taking a couple of lesser-used Minicons for a spin. All comments and such are appreciated, so drop a review and let me know what you think!

Iron Resolve

If it was possible to be born old, Refute figured that was him. They were all so young, really: no more than half a vorn at most, even if there was some confusion about that. But he could remember back further than any other Minicon he'd ever met, and he didn't feel his youth. Not the way other bots seemed to do, when they were bounding around the place or talking in hushed beeps about the Bulks saying this or the commander saying that. He could see their youth, all right, looking at them.

He even looked older, more work-worn and dented around the edges, and apparently that got him some of the respect they gave the Bulks. Refute talked to them and they listened because he'd been talking to his first Autobot before their first memories began. He tried to tell them what he knew about the way things worked. They needed to know. Most of them were refugees now. And all of them were kids.

And that was the thing. He felt responsible.

He came into the Minicon barracks and looked around. They had three rooms total, though the two leading off this one were just storage closets really. He was grateful the Autobots recognised their need for more than a storeroom, but he got the feeling they were quick to underestimate how much room the 'micro-bots' needed. Not that they had much space to spare themselves in this base. One of the Autobots had taken enthusiastically to the idea of making furniture for the base's new arrivals, but his off-duty attempts had been less than perfect, so far. No-one had the spark to replace them. Or the time.

It wasn't a big place, but it was suddenly one of the main gateways for Minicons fleeing the Decepticons, and the Autobots were scrambling to adjust. The sounds of construction weren't so loud here, but Refute had spent the last decacycle helping to shore up the defences. He knew how much work was going on outside.

He scanned the clusters of wary refugees slumped around the edges – lots of triads in there, already learning to stick together – a dozen or so faceplates he recognised well, 'old hands' who'd been around the base longer, carrying a kind of bravado with them like a lamp. There were a few bots he didn't know what to think about, the ones who moved around wheeling and dealing amongst the groups, and the ones he knew were trouble, swiping rations or starting fights to work off the boredom. He didn't have the spark to blame them, mostly, not that it slowed his fist on the way to their helmets.

He could pick out a couple of other actual recruits like him, 'bots who'd thrown their lot in with the Autobots for real. Just the two others… make that three. Refute zeroed in on the bot sitting in the middle of the room, a blocky rust-red outline sitting at a lopsided table.

He settled down on a makeshift chair and watched her coolly examine the components spread out in front of her – her main gun, detached from her back and disassembled. Risky thing to do in a common area, but there was nowhere else for a Minicon. And he noticed the wide berth the others were giving the worktable. Looked like nobody fancied trying to steal from Ironhide.

"I'm not gonna pretend I know you well," he said. "And I'm not in a position to complain about getting more recruits. But I've got to know if this is really what you want to do."

"I went to the base commander and volunteered," she said, not looking up. Her hands moved steadily, motions bright among the dark gunmetal of the components. "What's that tell you?"

Refute sighed. "Tells me you think you want it."

"And you think different?" Direct, challenging. No defensiveness. Maybe he shouldn't have expected any.

"Look," he said, laying it out, "you come in here with a gang of other refugees, out of fuel, out of your processors and falling off your last servos, telling everyone up to the service drones about the other friends who've been snatched by Decepticons. Soon as we give you some fuel you take off, disappear for nearly a decacycle. Then you finally show your face again and next thing I hear is you've marched into the commander'n told him you want to help the Autobots. He leaned forward, optics searching her faceplate. "So be straight for me: what's going on, kid?"

"I'm an upfront kind of bot." She shrugged. "What do you want to know?"

"Well, where'd you go?"

Ironhide's expression didn't flicker, but her hands slowed in their movements. "I went east. To Sineplex. Tracked the Decepticons to their base."

Just what he was afraid of. "Looking for your friends."

"Right." In her steel-calm voice it didn't sound like the admission it was.

And you came back alone, which tells me everything I need to know about that. Refute gave her a moment. "I know how it is, when you lose a pal," he told her, as gently as he knew how. "But you have to understand, joining up with the 'Bots ain't going to let you storm a Decepticon fortress to get them back."

"I never said it would," she said, finally sounding irritable. Defensive, he thought, and sighed.

"But you thought it," he said quietly. "Maybe without even realising it. But like I said, I know how you're feeling, and I know… all you can think about is blasting in with all the firepower you can dig up and tearing apart whatever gets in your way until you find 'em."

"That's not what I'm trying to do," Ironhide insisted, just staring at the disassembled gun now.

Refute levelled a steady gaze at her. "Really? You sure about that, kid?"

"I'm sure. Because I know damn well it's too late for either of them."

That knocked him back. "You found shells?"

"I found enough. Thrown out by the perimeter, not even recycled."

He blinked, knowing something about the defences up there and teetering on impressed. "You… got up as far as the perimeter?"

"Yeah."

"Without getting caught?"

"Auto-defences got wind of me after a while."

"…Slag, you were lucky." He was impressed.

"Not that lucky." She turned towards him, revealing half a dozen shallow dents and gouges along the right side of her arm and body. Refute felt his optics widen. Decepticon auto-turrets were designed to stop armoured Bulks in their tracks – terminally. The idea of a Minicon taking a hit from those things gave him the surges, and it didn't help that she was sitting in front of him.

Ironhide saw his expression and snorted. "Give me a break, I said I'm not that fast."

He shut off his optics for a second. The commander didn't mention those.

She went on, voice dropping as her gaze went back to the table. "This thing they're doing to us… Powerlinking." At that Refute straightened up and listed. He had to. "They don't have it figured out yet, I think. Halflight, what was left of him… he was burned out like a rotten power coupler." Her hands clenched around the barrel of her gun. "And that's what'll happen to Fender. They'll use her up and burn her up and throw her away like they did to him. One of the best friends I ever had, smartest bot I knew, and that's what… so don't tell me I don't know what I'm fighting."

"All right. All right. But after all that… do you think this is a good time to make a decision like this?"

"The Autobots won't ask questions," she said simply, as if that was all that mattered. So long as she got accepted. Refute winced.

"Yeah, well, the Autobots…" He scratched the back of his helmet, torn. They needed every weapons system they could get, and every willing Minicon more. But that was just it. "They ain't exactly perfect, are they?"

"So maybe not. But they're the ones with the right idea. The only ones, far as I can tell." Ironhide sounded exasperated now. "Look, knock off that 'kid' thing before I deck you. You can't be that much older than me. I've seen plenty of this war. I've seen places the 'Cons have been through. I've been there when they come hunting for us. I've seen enough of what happens when there's no-one to stand up and fight them." She laid her hands on the table and looked him in the optics. "I made this decision a while ago. I've been telling people we need to pull together and put them down. If Fender was here you could- slag, ask the guys I came in with. I've been saying this stuff for years. And now I'm here I can finally put my colours where my voice is."

He processed that, and after a few nanoclicks of his silence Ironhide started looking at her gun again. She really seemed sure of herself, and he didn't know how to argue with her. To her credit, she hadn't dodged his questions. Hadn't tried to avoid answering. She'd taken him head on, and he had the feeling she'd won. Fair enough, he supposed…

Besides, he hadn't come down here to talk her out of signing up. Not really. He'd expected he would, but that wasn't the aim of the thing. Refute knew bots like him were the exception. Not many Minicons with the chance to get out wanted to commit themselves to a side in the war. In Refute's opinion, you had to wonder about the ones that did.

He wasn't the only one who thought that way. People who joined up with the Autobots got a wide berth along with their respect, often as not. The Bulks had their work cut out encouraging Minicons to join the fight. He almost wondered about them, too…

But he'd come down and wondered at Ironhide, and she'd given him straight short answers. And she was right – she wasn't any more of a kid than he was.

"All right, then," he said, shrugging at her, and at the uneasiness in his core. "I just had to know you knew. It's harder to drop out of this war than into it."

"Good. That's what I want." She raised her head and looked at him, shoulders relaxing, looking surprisingly relieved. "Satisfied?"

He wasn't the kind of bot to lie. "I don't have a lot of choice," he grunted, settling back. "I'll have to take your word you know what you're doing."

Ironhide's gaze didn't waver. "If we're going to work together, you've gotta have some faith in me. I don't need you looking over my shoulder, wondering if I'm going to cut and run when I get some sense knocked into me."

She was blunt. Refute held her gaze while he thought about it. She was right, and he owed her an honest answer, and that meant he had to work out what the truth was.

And the truth was… he could trust her. As far as anyone could work out she was as cut out for this as he was. Some bit of him wasn't happy about it, but maybe sometimes you had to knock yourself back into line.

Refute thought he could do that. There was something new to learn.

He nodded to her finally. "You're right. I'll trust you to know what you're doing, if you trust me."

"Done," she said, and there was a very final weight on the word. Deal made; subject closed. "Talking about knowing what I'm doing, it'll help if I have a teacher. What do you know about upgrading weapons?"

"I've been fixing Autobots for years," Refute said slowly, setting aside his doubts. She'd made her commitment; time for him to hold to his. "A thing or two."

"Help me out, then." Ironhide gestured at the gun. "Start teaching me. I want to pack as much of a punch as I can take."