Musical Meme
Chapter VI
Song:
'Here Without You' – Three Doors Down
Lyrical inspiration:
A hundred days have made me older
Since the last time that I saw your pretty face
A thousand lies have made me colder
And I don't think I can look at this the same
But all the miles that separate
Disappear now when I'm dreaming of your face
Everything I know, and anywhere I go
It gets hard but it won't take away my love
And when the last one falls
When it's all said and done
It gets hard but it won't take away my love
I'm here without you baby
But you're still on my lonely mind
I think about you baby
And I dream about you all the time
I'm here without you baby
But you're still with me in my dreams
And tonight it's only you and me
It had been exactly one hundred days (by Earth time) since Ironhide had set out on his solo assignment to hunt and extinguish several remaining Decepticon symbols located on a planet called Gholiton. One hundred days spent alone on this always-dark planet made him lonely and dejected. One hundred Ratchet-less days made him just downright miserable. With no other sign of life on the entire planet other than the 'Cons that he was sent to hunt, Ironhide had plenty of time to reflect on things such as the war, the opposition, events passed… But mostly he tried to keep his thoughts centered on his bonded and the weapons specialist often wondered what Ratchet was doing at that precise moment. He could almost see him clearly in his processor, probably throwing a tantrum or… a wrench. Ironhide chuckled.
One hundred days wasn't an immensely long stretch of time by most Cybertronian standards. But for Ironhide, even though he was several millennia old (Ratchet's voice popped into his processor then, 'You old scrap heap!'), it was a long time to go without seeing those he loved, especially his bonded. He missed Ratchet's fleeting glances, his contented sighs, his gentleness that he reserved only for Ironhide when they were alone,… frag, he even missed the clang of the CMO's wrenches when they connected with his helm. Medic had some damn good aim. He was nearly done with the mission now, just needing to catch two lingering 'Con signals before he could return home to the chartreuse mech's arms (and wrench). He clung to thoughts like these, knowing that Ratchet was the only thing that kept his processor from slipping into deep depression, here alone on this planet.
As Ironhide drifted off into recharge later that night, he wished Ratchet sweet dreams, knowing that somewhere else in the universe that the CMO was doing the same.
