A/N We check in with the Autobots! I want to thank everyone who's taken the time to leave a nice comment and review: it really means so much to me!
4. Long Time Coming
Ironhide had had enough. Someone had to confront Optimus about this. Of all the many things mechs could say bad about Ironhide, they could not say that he was not forthright. No sneaking around. If you were his enemy, you knew it. He had spent considerable effort—and pride—in making that true.
Not that Optimus was his enemy. But…he'd heard enough grumbling, suffered enough doubt, and he wanted answers. He needed answers. Now. This wasn't about him or his pride: this was about their future. Here, or not. Prowl had been right: they'd used up more than half of the time they had left to utilize the Diego Garcia base and there had been no guidance from Optimus. All preparation had been organized by Prowl himself. Preparation that could only go so far without them knowing what they were preparing for: off planet? On planet? Were they leaving this system entirely?
He crossed the hangar. Sideswipe was whining and squirming under Flareup's care as she hoseclamped a leaking line. More than half of his histrionics seemed designed to get Flareup's sympathy—one optic winked at Ironhide as he went by. Ironhide, unfortunately, wasn't in a joking mood. But Sideswipe needed to do it—needed to make some public show that he was in control of himself. Vortex's attack had…disrupted a lot of things.
"Optimus," he bellowed. He wasn't in a subtle mood, either. Anything he had to say he would say in front of the entire Autobot army. And if Optimus were any kind of leader, he'd do the same. Subterfuge was for cowards and Decepticons.
Optimus turned from where he was kneeling, listening to a wildly expostulating human. "I will be with you in one moment, Ironhide," he said, patiently. The other mechs in the area fell silent—even Sideswipe's laugh fading.
"No. You will be with me, NOW." Humans. Ironhide would not be put behind humans again. Optimus would remember his loyalties. Ironhide had switched sides for the ideal that the Autobots had promised, and he would hold Optimus to those ideals. He gritted his jaw as he saw Optimus's flicker of surprise. Oh yes, he thought, I remember who you are, Optimus Prime. Do you?
"Ironhide, this is really not the time…," Optimus began, gesturing at the human. "Humans have been injured." Did Ironhide not understand the need for delicacy? Optimus worked so hard to prevent the humans from feeding their xenophobia and fear that the Autobots had come with conquest in mind. He did not enjoy the effort, and he was beginning to think he was not very good at it: Sam had turned away. Lennox…well, Lennox understood but served his country, meaning his loyalty and obedience was to his own kind. Optimus had to respect that. And Lennox gave him hope.
And Ironhide's outburst could destroy everything he'd been working for.
"Humans have tested a weapon," Ironhide countered. "On one of our kind." He could hear a ripple of sound around him. Flareup had told him in confidence, but there was no reason to keep it that way. They all needed to know their danger. They all needed to know the truth. The Optimus he knew, the Optimus he followed, would not shrink from the truth.
"We do not know that," Optimus said. He was trying hard not to let his impatience show. Ironhide had done an exemplary job on the runway, controlling the unloading of the helicopter. He did not want to take that achievement away from him. "I am attempting to discover what happened from the humans."
"You trust them to tell the truth?" Ironhide challenged. The Russians sprang to both their processors. They were still hanging under the cloud—global governments all suddenly restricting airspace access, politely demurring that they did not need help, thank you.
"Do you trust a Decepticon?"
"Do you?" Ironhide's optics blazed in open challenge. They never forgot he was not one of them, not from the start. He would not let them forget now. He saw the comment strike home. Yes. You didn't trust me: I return the favor. This rift, you started.
Cliffjumper crossed over, his too-new face creased with concern. "Hey, what's going on?"
"Humans have a weapon that can kill us."
"They had one before—those high heat rounds things."
"This is worse." Ironhide fumbled. He didn't have any details, beyond what Flareup had told him, and Flareup had heard it from the 'con copter. And he certainly hadn't rushed to believe Barricade. Why trust Vortex? Because even Ironhide knew genuine rage when he saw it. And those shots that had torn up the runway, punched a new hole in Sideswipe, cracked Armorhide's engine block, those were sincere, helpless, frustrated rage.
He knew more about that than he cared to admit.
"Are you saying they deserved Vortex's attack?" Optimus asked. Not angry, never angry. Just…trying to understand. As if Ironhide was—still—speaking a different language. As though he never quite got 'Autobot' right. Not intended to sting, but it stung nonetheless.
"No! Of course not. I just," Ironhide's own gaze dropped to the human, whose clothing was scorched and tattered. "We have to figure stuff out." All of his rage, all of his righteousness, seemed faded right now. Unimportant. But this was important. He blundered on, "Like, where are we going? When? Are we even staying in this star system?" They'd used up almost half of the time that they'd been given on Diego Garcia. Prowl had had them pack up, but…without knowing where they were ultimately going, it was hard to do some of the preparation.
"We are still discussing matters," Optimus said.
Even Cliffjumper snapped at that. "We? Who is we? You haven't been discussing a thing with any of us!"
"There hasn't been time." Why wouldn't they understand that? Since their return from Tunguska, Optimus hadn't had a chance to so much as recharge, it seemed. He could feel himself fraying, losing control.
Ironhide felt his mouth set. "And…now isn't 'the time' either, is it?"
"We need to take care of the humans. It is our fault they were damaged." We gave them Barricade. We didn't protect them. We…didn't do something right. Optimus just had to figure out what it was.
"If we believe Vortex," Cliffjumper said, "They brought it on themselves. Oh come on, Optimus," he said, quickly. "I'm not trying to say it that way. Just that, you know, we should be careful."
"Careful," Optimus responded, "Is making sure that we do not lose sight of our protection of the humans." His voice had that unshakeable timbre that had once stirred Ironhide to fierce loyalty. Now…it grated in his audio. Like a charlatan's trick.
"I'm not sure they need, or deserve, our protection," Ironhide muttered. "First with the nuke, and now this. Seems like they can take care of themselves without our help."
"You know that's not true," Optimus remonstrated.
Ironhide's hands balled. "Oh, do I? Do THEY? They certainly seem not to need—or want—our help." He glared down at the human, defying contradiction. The human said nothing, looking as wary as Ironhide felt. No trust there. No loyalty, no honor.
Optimus had no answer for that. Ironhide stared at him for a long moment, his mouth a tight line. He shook his head, disappointed in Optimus, disappointed in himself. Another false idol. Another hollow ideal.