Quits

Chapter Ten

Five o'clock saw Ironhide returning from the firing range after spending a day wearing out the Twins and any other bot Prowl had quietly suggested would benefit from being a little tired before they started on the High Grade that evening. Beneficial for the Base, that was. Ironhide had taken on the task gladly, though he wasn't looking forward to the extensive repairs that every single training droid now required.

The NEST soldiers had started a large barbeque beside a bonfire around the back of the Base, and the air was thick with the smell of charcoal and searing meat. As Prowl and Sideswipe began setting up the newly made High Grade kegs, Ironhide made his way past several excitable bots towards the main hanger where Prime's office could be found. With the High Grade outside and the celebrations officially begun, the corridor was predictably deserted. Outside the door, though, the dark mech found himself hesitating to go inside or even knock.

He'd spent the day since transporting Lennox's family and returning with the soldier to the Base 'blowing seven shades of shit' out of anything remotely like a target, as Epps had so eloquently put it, and it had felt long-overdue. He was a mech built for conflict and understood the battlefield and weaponry better than anything else. Conflict was his optimal environment, and he knew what he was doing there.

With Optimus lately, he'd had no idea of what he was doing. And it chilled his spark.

The situation was nightmarish to contemplate let alone try to find a way out of. When his sparkmate was with Megatron, and he'd pressed the bond to see how things were going, the flood of emotion back had floored him.

No word from Prime yet, and Prowl had insisted that all they could do was wait. Like he could just slagging –wait- when his sparkmate had gone, on his own, to meet the head of the enemy faction at an unstated location. Leaving the briefing room he and Prowl had been hovering in since Optimus had left, Ironhide stalked back to his shared quarters muttering in Cybertronian beneath his vents. Prowl's unending patience had been sending his circuits into a fritz, and there was no reason he couldn't wait for contact in his quarters instead of staring at that irritatingly calm visage.

And, he thought to himself as he let himself in and took up a cube of energon, Prowl had only said they couldn't use the comm.s to speak to Prime. Megatron wouldn't know if they spoke over the bond.

Taking a swig of energon, Ironhide slid up to sit on the edge of the berth and set about oiling the microparts in his canons to keep his hands busy. :Optimus? What's going on? What did Megahead want?:

The burst of panic that surged back froze his hands. Panic at being caught doing something, he realised, and quickly diagnosed the other sensations flowing back like liquid to be shame and… arousal?

:Please, 'Hide, I don't want you to see this.:

The plea stilled his spark. Dropping to his feet, he took half a step with balled fists before realising that he didn't have anywhere to go. :See what? What the slag is going on?:

Nothing for a few seconds, then a curdling sense of nausea swelled up beneath everything else along the bond. A fresh spike of fear and… pressure. As if Optimus were being trapped somehow. Ironhide began to pace in agitated steps, head ducked and optics dark. Before he could repeat the question, the mech's 'voice' came again, forcibly level.

:We're negotiating a truce. Everything will be fine.:

There was static as Optimus tried to close the bond on his end and Ironhide forced it back open with a grunt of effort, finding it too easy to overcome the mental defence. It amplified his own fear and frustration.

:Ironhide, please…:

Optimus had never spoken in such a tone, and it stilled Ironhide's tight pacing to hear it now. The anxiety he could sense from the other mech surged, twisting his own tanks, and there was an alien note of helplessness and uncertainty honing the edge of the feeling. Seconds passed and it didn't abate, beginning to prickle with more cold, unwelcomed spikes of arousal.

A whimper slid against his mind.

One hand on the berth, Ironhide found himself sinking to his knees as the wave of shame, disgust and fear swelled about his mind. He covered his optics, pressing until it hurt. :Primus, tell me he's not.:

:It's all he wants for peace: Optimus snapped back in a more recognizable tone, sounding as if he were arguing with himself as much as to his sparkmate. :He wants to feel that he's defeated me. A few joors of personal discomfort is a small price to pay.:

Ironhide felt his vents shunt violently and his fans kick in as his systems began to heat. He shook his head, bewildered by the words and overwhelmed by the feelings. :Personal discomfort? Frag Optimus, what you're talking about -:

Optimus's cry cut him off and triggered his tanks to purge. Against the maelstrom of emotions coming from the bond, his processor roared through every imaginable thing that could be happening to the mech at this instant. Gripping the berth, he forced himself to his feet, stumbling when a clear note of echoed pain lurched through the bond, backed by dread and fear.

:'Hide, help me.:

Ironhide was already making for the door, his tone thick and growled back down the bond in reply. :Where are you?:

:The Nemesis, but I don't-:

Every awful feeling filling the bond suddenly increased tenfold, and Ironhide clutched at his helm feeling as if he were drowning in it. It didn't stop, didn't lessen, twisting a burning path through his spark that brought him back down to his knees by the door. He'd felt spikes of fear from Optimus in battle before through the bond, when someone was about to get seriously hurt or it looked like a whole mission was about to go to slag. He'd felt anxiety when a big decision had to be made, one that could potentially cost a bot their life. But he'd never felt such abject terror from his sparkmate before. It was naked and encompassed his every sense, spanning beyond his instinct to simply dive in weapons blazing. It scared him to his core.

And that manipulated arousal, coated in layer upon layer of seething shame and loathing.

The bond began to fill with static as Optimus's mind began to recoil back in on itself, and Ironhide grasped it with his own. :Stay with me, Optimus.: His voice had taken on a pleading quality, desperate with a need to protect and helpless with the knowledge that he couldn't. He could help him survive this, though, and get him back. :Just focus on me.:

:Stop, please.: They cry made his spark lurch as he imagined it being said to Megatron. There was a sudden rush of humiliation alongside the shame. :It's bad enough without you here.:

Ironhide brought his hands from his head and balled them into fists, pressing them into the floor. The solid ground anchored him, let his shaking vents suck in air for his burning systems. :All you need to do is survive this.: He fell into the level, firm tone that he used to teach on the firing range, clinging to it with closed optics. :Survive it, that's all. Just let him do what he wants to your body. Keep your mind with me. Focus on me.:

For long minutes there was silence across the bond, though the emotions were deafening in their own right. Escalating to impossible heights. The flash of rage caught him by surprise, but the white anger was quickly overwhelmed by despair. He pressed in fresh panic, desperate to know what had happened.

Optimus mentally choked out the words. :I have to overload for him to stop.:

Mouth twisting, Ironhide shuttered his optics hard and pressed his trembling fists into the floor. He wanted nothing more right then than to go straight to the Nemesis and turn it into a crater. To tear his sparkmate from Megatron's hands and shred the mech apart one piece at a time. But that wasn't what Optimus needed right now. That wasn't how he could help. He needed for this torment to stop, and though it seemed an impossible condition to meet they would try.

Resolved, the scarred mech shifted to sit against the wall, resting his elbows on his knees and pressing his hands to his helm. :Pretend you're with me,:

Shock, fear, pain and a warmth that signalled that his spark chamber had been opened. :'Hide, I can't.:

Ironhide shook his head, jaw tight as he forced out the reassurance that Optimus needed. :Yes you can. Focus on me.:

Numbness now, emotionally overloaded so that the bond registered as white noise. It wouldn't end until Megatron was satisfied, and as loathe as he was to give it he wanted to end this nightmare as soon as possible. Head bowed into his chest, he searched for what he could possible say that would help. It struck him suddenly.

:Remember that night we bonded in the rain?:

:Yes.: The word came back a hiss.

Ironhide smiled grimly, forcing his processor to focus on the warm memory. He tried to laugh, to detract from what was really happening. :You shook like a petrorabbit, even when you were against me.:

The fog of distress faltered momentarily. :I remember.: The relief was short lived as tainted pleasure began to move to the fore of the bond, a shameful arousal charge beginning to build from a spark chamber being caressed and stimulated. :Oh Primus, 'Hide, he's-:

:I know, I know.: Ironhide interrupted in a rumbled, soothing tone, as much for himself as Optimus. He didn't want to imagine it. Couldn't. Tipping his head back, he pressed his helm hard into the wall and forced himself to concentrate. :Don't think about that. Think about me. Remember how that was the first time you let me be on top? Let me hold you for once.: Nothing in the bond changed and he hissed a sigh before continuing. :And you just lay there looking at me, watched me run my hands on your chassis.:

A silence and then, sounding choked, Optimus replied, :You were smiling.:

Some of the tension in the bond easing away, Ironhide gave a thin smile of relief. : I'd never been happier than I was then, looking down at ya. Knowing we were about to tie our sparks together like that."

The cracks of pleasure began to overcome the rest of the emotional storm, though shame remained a close second. :'Hide… Can you feel what's happening?:

A low sound passed through his vents before he could catch himself, leaving him with no choice but to admit the truth. :I can feel your fear. Your arousal.:

A mental groan and the shame amplified, suppressing the arousal. :Primus…:

:No, that's good,: Ironhide assured quickly, forcing a reassuring calm that he didn't feel. He could tell that it was nearly over now. :It's what he wants. It'll be over quicker if you just let it happen. Focus. Think about us bonding.:

It seemed to help distract Optimus from what was happening, the fear abating enough to allow the overload charge to build again. :It was raining so hard I couldn't always make you out against the sky.:

Ironhide immersed himself in the memory, devoting himself to the cherished details with a low purr. :The water gathered in your neck when you tipped your head back. Let me kiss you. Bite you. Please you.:

Something close to calm, and Optimus replied in a tone he associated with their berth. :You always please me.:

:You'd never let yourself go like that before.' Ironhide almost added that until then Optimus had never put himself at his mercy, but the words died in his processor. Optimus had turned out to be a submissive partner, passionate but finding great freedom in the one place where he didn't have to lead, and it was not something he needed reminding of now. :I remember your spark was like a nova, or a dying star, reaching out for mine.:

The wave of pleasure built slowly, stumbling over pricks of fear as Megatron elicited new sensations through his body. :I needed you. I need you." A jolt of heat and he guessed it was from a neural line in the mech's neck. 'Hide…:

Ironhide spoke determined to sound as if he wasn't listening to a rape, fists trembling off his knees. :The first thing you said across our bond was that you loved me. I think about it every time I see you.:

Another soft sound like a whimper. :Will you love me after this?:

:Of course I will,: Ironhide rumbled back, feeling his spark contract viciously. :This is the bravest, most selfless and stupidest thing you've ever done.:

The bond was swollen with warmth and pleasure, just hovering on the border of bitterness. :'Hide...:

Ironhide replied softly to that quietly panicked plea, head bowed in concentration and willpower to see this through. :You're close. Let it happen. Imagine it's my hands on your plates, my spark against your spark, my mouth on your mouth. Let go.:

Seconds later the electrical charge thrummed against him, a rough, hard rush of power that burned of bitter surrender. He waited, frozen, for it to pass before concentrating on sending love and reassurance along the bond. :That's it. It's over. You can come back to me.:

There was a cold nothingness for almost ten minutes though the bond remained open. Finally the awful limbo ended with a fresh wash of pain and shame. He sent warmth back, his words soft. :Come back to me, love.:

Nothing at first, and then, :Meet me halfway. I'm coming.:

Ironhide shook his head again, gaze still fixed on some undetermined point near the base of the door. He'd been at a loss to see how he could help Optimus overcome the attack before he'd accidentally intercepted the whole experience through Soundwave's hack. Now he had every touch to his sparkmate's body, every movement of Megatron against him burned into his processor, and the only solution he could come up with was to murder the Decepticon. But that would undermine everything that Optimus had fought for, and had continued to defend even when he'd been told that everyone would happily shove the peace agreement if they knew the circumstances. He couldn't imagine any of the Autobots not wishing to avenge their Prime for this dishonour.

But the short of it was that he had to find another way around this. From what Ratchet had said, that way was talking. A great deal, in an openly emotional way. The weapons specialist shifted again at the thought, very doubtful that he had the capacity for such conversations. He genuinely feared he'd just make things worse. He'd already spooked Optimus once by getting too close, though he'd meant nothing by it at the time other than to reassure. It was such a fragile thing between them now, and he was wary to do anything that might make things harder.

His servos all jerked together in surprise when the door suddenly opened, revealing Optimus's impressive form on the other side. The tall mech seemed weary but offered a smile, stepping out of the doorway and brushing a hand along Ironhide's arm. "Were you looking for me?"

Ironhide cleared his processor and shifted a little, warmed by the brief touch. "Yeah. The party's just kicking off outside. I figured you might need someone to pry you from your desk."

"Thank you, but I've no qualms with leaving it for the day," Optimus replied with a soft whine from his hydraulics as he moved, lines stiff from sitting for most of the day. Resealing the door, he started for the yard and smiled as Ironhide fell into step beside him. "I've been speaking to officials all day, and it became very repetitive very quickly. What about you?"

A broad shoulder rolled in a shrug, and Ironhide grumbled his response with his optics downcast. "I've been on the firing range with the mechlings having a productive day of weapons training."

Though Optimus had noticed the subtle withdrawal he didn't mention it, merely replying softly, "I'm glad to hear it."

Ironhide gave a curt nod, finally looking up to the taller mech with a thin smile. Bright blue optics stared back at him quizzically, and he immediately gestured towards the doorway out to the yard. "Come on – let's see just how big Wheeljack's fireworks are."

The fireworks had scared away all wildlife for several miles around the Base, and nearly some of the humans as well. They had been very impressive, though. Now it was close to midnight and the handful of soldiers still cursed with a low alcohol tolerance were passed out against resting mechs or mingling near the bonfire. Sam and Mikaela were toasting marshmallows on the side of laughing at Bumblebee's attempts at juggling the beer kegs. With his equilibrium sensors as compromised as most of the other mech's, he was being given a wide berth. The Twins were animatedly retelling old war stories, gesturing with their cubes of High Grade and making up names for when their muzzy processors drew a blank. Sideswipe had taken an interest in burning animal flesh on the bonfire, listening to Epps recount all the unusual species he'd ever eaten whilst the mech cooked the whole cow he had mysteriously 'found' an hour earlier.

Ironhide and Prowl sat with their backs against a wall, legs outstretched and a fair collection of cubes littering the ground around them. Only three of them were the tactician's, whom had taken it upon himself to be the designated sober bot even though the peace deal had been confirmed as a certainty. Lennox had been drawn into a lengthy argument between Ratchet and Wheeljack about what explosives you couldn't put into a firework, no matter how aesthetically pleasing it may be. Neither had been successful in getting away despite motioning for Jolt to come over to 'rescue' them. The transformed Chevrolet had found it to be far more entertaining to watch them from a distance.

Suddenly realising the time and remembering that the Witwickys had insisted that Sam call in during the 'army booze-fest', Mikaela left Sam starting to teach a very wired yellow mech how to do the chicken dance to venture away into the trees. Though quiet enough to make the phone call, the sound of the soldiers and mechs was still loud enough to make out distinct voices. A crash followed by loud expletives led her to believe that Bumblebee had just fallen onto Ratchet, and she began to make her way back to the group with a grin splitting her features.

The sharp sound of cracking wood drew her attention to Optimus's silhouette through the trees to her right, his almost silent approach belaying his substantial form. The slant of the two blue lights suggested that his head was tipped. She slipped her phone back into her pocket and smiled up at the reserved mech as he moved closer. "Hey Optimus. Enjoying the party?"

"It is very… festive," he replied after a pause, an amused lilt underlining his preoccupied tone. The reverb of his voice was slightly more noticeable, but otherwise there was nothing to suggest that he'd taken in a fair amount of High Grade. Dropping to one knee, Optimus's voice turned softer and more serious. "I was wondering if I could impose on your time to speak with you privately."

Mikaela blinked at the request, momentarily stunned before nodding. "Sure, yeah. We can just, uh." She looked about the vicinity for something robot-friendly to sit on, like a big log, but abandoned the search when Optimus simply moved to sit alongside her. He'd never approached her like this before, and it left her flustered, dusting at her jeans as she sat next to him with her back against a thick tree. "So, uh, what's on your mind?"

Optimus shifted fractionally, adjusting his legs against the ground. It seemed to be a conscious decision to meet her gaze. "It seems that part of the condition for us remaining on this planet is to allow your scientists to learn more about us, particularly our biology," he began hesitantly, running a finger across the corner of his jaw with narrowed optics. "It is problematic because our species are so alien to one another, making analogies difficult to draw. To better answer their questions, I have been researching your own biology more thoroughly in search of comparability. You're so different to us, Mikaela, and I wondered," he paused, tone hesitant, "if you would be willing to answer a personal question."

Her brows raised and she ran a hand back through her hair, not evening hazarding a guess as to what the Autobot leader could possibly want to ask her in terms of a personal question. Surely he could have gotten any answers he wanted from Ratchet, who seemed to know the ins and outs of their bodies better than they did at times. Finally she cleared her throat and looked up to him, granting her full attention. "That'd be fine, Optimus. Anything I can do to help human/Autobot relations, you know? What's your question?"

His optics drifted down again, narrowing slightly. There was a quiet metallic noise as he rubbed his thumb across the armoured pads of two fingers in slow circles. It was a nervous gesture, she noted with dull surprise, looking up again when he finally, softly, asked, "How can you permit another to penetrate your body?"

Mikaela's jaw slackened though her mouth remained closed – an unconscious skill that she'd mastered over the last few years. There had been plenty to gawk at where the Autobots and NEST in general were concerned, and it was a source of pride for anyone who could seem unaffected by new instances of strangeness or incredibleness. Though, there were limits to what anyone could expect in the realm of the unexpected. "That's, not quite what I was expecting," she replied weakly with a half smile, watching his shielded face in profile.

With an agitated rumble through his vents, Optimus shook his head and made as if to get up. "Forgive me, that was deeply inappropriate and a breach of cultural etiquette. I'll leave with my sincere apologies."

"No! No, wait – I just said it was unexpected, not that I wouldn't answer," she shouted over the sounds of his systems flexing to get him upright. Optimus paused and looked down to her, sceptical, only sitting again when she patted the ground. Once he'd settled to watch her patiently, her brow furrowed and she rubbed her neck in thought. "First, why do you want to know?"

His vents cycled the equivalent of a sigh that sent a wave of hot air across her. Silence stretched out, filled in with excitable sounds from the Base and blasts of music. Finally his hydraulics hissed out pressure, sagging his systems. "It is simply a foreign concept, one that seems to be both painful and pleasurable," he went on at last, his thrumming voice sounding troubled. "It is a violation of your physical boundaries. I find it hard to understand how human females wish to engage in such an activity outside of the need to procreate."

Mikaela sat back against the broad tree behind her, crossing her outstretched legs at the ankle. Clearly he'd been giving this a lot of thought, and she could see his point. To his species, it was a paradox. She knew a little about spark merges from Ratchet following an explanation of where little mechs and femmes came from, so she could understand how a part of a man's body breaching into a part of a woman's body, repeatedly, was disconcerting information. "Well, firstly that's how it's designed to work, and it's meant to feel good – does feel good, because it encourages us to actually have sex and have children." A quick rolling gesture with her hands. "For gay men it's just the way they're wired – again, it feels good."

Optimus's thumb kept moving idly, unnoticed as he processed that. "I understand the biological drive to procreate, and that such an act is pleasurable. Humans have an abundance of sensory nodes designed for that sole purpose, and the Internet has evidenced many instances of enjoyed coupling in this way." He frowned, seeming to hesitate and consider his words before his cool gaze swept back to her. "I don't understand how you are able to allow it mentally. It seems an invasion. An indication of being a submissive recipient."

A lot of thought, Mikaela mused to herself as she tipped her head back with that statement, wondering how to explain this facet of sex that many of her own species still struggled with. Finally she thought of Sam, a smile teasing her mouth into a slight curve. "I suppose that the submission thing is part of it. You're giving yourself to someone else, like they're giving a bit of them to you. It's as close to being to someone as you can get, around and inside each other. It's a really loving act. Some people don't think so, or just do it out of lust, and some people get paid to do it, but generally you'd hear sex explained as something people in love do."

"But what of," Optimus began, optics narrowing with confusion mixed with something else as he looked at her, "sex without love? Or lust, or any circumstance that would indicate that both participants were willing."

"Then that's called something else," she replied flatly, all trace of a smile gone from her features. "If someone has sex with someone, whatever their genders, and they don't want it or aren't able to consent, then it's called rape."

His head tipped, voice coming softly. "Please explain."

Now it was her turn to fidget, drawing her knees up to herself and resting her hands in her lap. "Like, if someone gets really drunk or is tanked on a lot of drugs, and they get taken advantage of because they can't say 'yes' or 'no' to it at the time, then that's an assault. Just like if someone gets jumped on the street, or if they get bullied into it so they'll agree to it but they don't really want it. That kind of attack, because it's so personal, it's worse than normal violence."

"I see." His gaze shifted back to his hands.

Mikaela fidgeted, finding the sounds of the party a disconcerting contrast to the conversation. "The people it happens to… it takes a long time for them to recover from it. To learn to trust someone in that way again. That they aren't to blame for what happened, and that it hasn't made them dirty in some way."

A low mechanical sound and she saw that he was looking at her again, optics tight. Her mouth quirked. "This girl I used to hang with worked in a rough bar, stayed late to lock up one night. I didn't really know her, but you could tell afterwards. It's a horrible thing, Optimus, and it happens far too often."

"I agree," he murmured, optics darkening as he turned them back out to the trees in the direction of the party. After a long moment he twitched his head and looked back to her, smiling slightly. "Thank you, Mikaela, I believe I understand now."

"Anytime," she replied with a matching feigned attempt at lightness. Sensing that his question had been answered and that the conversation was over, she got to her feet and dusted off the back of her trousers. "I guess we should get back to the party now. They'll be wondering where we are."

Optimus nodded but made no move to rise. "Go ahead, Mikaela. I'll be there shortly."

With a final uneasy glance back, Mikaela moved back through the trees and trotted down the slope of the bluff towards Sam.

The lanky teen climbed unsteadily to his feet, wrapping an arm around her waist. "Hey 'kaela, everything okay? Saw the Boss Bot go up there after you."

"Uh, yeah," she replied quickly, leaning out of his hold to pick up a beer from the open cooler. "I think so anyway." Shaking her head, Mikaela forced a grin and nodded to Bumblebee, whom was tapping another High Grade keg for himself and Skids. "How'd the chicken dance go?"

Sam grinned, pressing a fist to his mouth. "Oh man, it's awesome. Bee put this whole robo-twist on it. Yo Bee! Get over here and show 'kaela that spinning thing!"

Popping the cap off the bottle using the hem of her shirt, Mikaela fixed her mouth into a keen smile and forced the lingering anxiety over the mech she'd left sitting in quiet contemplation from her mind. Clearly something was bothering him, and she could only assume that Optimus had been spending too much time focussing on the worst qualities that humanity had to offer.

Following their little chat this morning, Lennox had been casting subtle glances to Ironhide all night. It was very obvious that despite the atmosphere the dark mech was still distracted, and now that he knew about their relationship Lennox was really beginning to notice the distance Optimus had been putting between them. The Autobot leader had left the celebrating group a half hour ago, and Ironhide was sitting alone a little way from the group against the wall with a stack of empty High Grade cubes and bowed head.

Wondering if a loose tongue was also a side-effect of the Cybertronian's version of alcohol, Lennox wandered with his own beer around the fire to sit next to him in the dirt. "Hey, 'Hide. Not enjoying the party?"

Ironhide looked down to him with a low sound, reaching past the human for another cube and bringing it to rest beneath his jaw. "We shouldn't be celebrating, but, it's deserved at the same time. Most of us never thought we'd see peace in our lifetimes."

"Well, you, Prime and Ratchet are the only ones sitting out," Lennox broached with a sweeping gesture of his bottle, encapsulating the sprawling din. He frowned when he noted another missing face, though it surprised him less. "And Prowl, but I don't think he really counts."

A grim smile against the lip of the cube. "That's because we're the only ones who know what this cost," he groused quietly, his voice slurring across the hard consonants.

Now glad that he hadn't been on as heavy a bender as all the other soldiers, Lennox pressed in an equal volume, "What it cost Prime?"

"Yeah." Ironhide downed the cube and slung it into the pile, his private stash now mostly gone. Running a thumb along a thick groove in his chest plating – a scar that ran almost the width of him, he added in a growl, "A disgusting price."

The soldier took a long sip of his own drink and waited, scuffing his boots in the dirt and watching the twisting fire in front of them. Long minutes dragged by as Ironhide sat motionless and Lennox watched him deliberate in his peripheral vision.

"What do you know about interfacing?"

The question came before the mech actually moved again, making Lennox jump though he forced an impression of nonchalance. "Interfacing?"

Blue optics narrowed, vents rumbling. "What you would term sex for our species."

"Uh, I don't know… I never gave a lot of thought to how you guys reproduce, let alone how sex worked. Interfacing. Whatever," he trailed off, shaking his head with a dismissive wave. "I figured that it was just completely different for your species, and that's why some of you are so curious about it. Namely Bee. Just Bee, actually. Hell, I think Epps is running out of sex stories to tell him."

Ironhide grunted an acknowledgement and fell silent again, fans humming. Lennox waited a few minutes before nudging the closest piece of metal hard enough to bring the blue gaze back down to him. "Why is that relevant?"

The big mech's features shifted uncomfortably before he finally shook his head and got to his feet. "Come with me. We'll have that 'talk'."

"Alright," Lennox replied automatically, getting up as well and breaking into a jog to keep up as Ironhide took them around the corner of the Base.

Ironhide glanced down to the human though didn't slow his stride. "I need to show you something first."

Lennox nodded, feeling a knot of apprehension beginning to swell in his stomach. "Okay."

Ironhide stopped abruptly once they'd come around to the other side of the hanger where it was quieter. Deserted for the night, the area was dark but the mech was wary to bring about much more light than his optical glow and the stars. Rather than sitting, he turned to face the human and shifted down onto one knee.

With hard clicks and whines, his chest plates twisted and folded outwards to reveal the glowing blue light of his spark, smaller than Prime's but still fiercely bright. He watched Lennox's face with narrowed optics. "This is my spark. My soul. It is what gives what you would deem these lifeless parts life. What makes me the mech I am."

Lennox's eyebrows inched up a little closer to his hairline, and he stared openly at the strangely organic light. "Wow."

A low rumble as Ironhide glanced away, as if suddenly self-conscious, before he resealed his chest plates. "A bot doesn't show their spark to just anyone," he explained in gravelled tones, resting an arm on his knee.

The bottle in his hand forgotten, Lennox moved to lean against the side of the hanger, his brow knitted in thought. "So why me?"

"Because you need to understand what I'm going to tell you," came the flat reply, and Ironhide brought up a hand to pinch between his optics. "Because I think I do need some help."

A very large and painful admission for the old mech to make, and Lennox nodded solemnly to acknowledge as much. He set the half-drunk beer on the ground and folded his arms, waiting patiently for him to go on.

Mouthplates tightening momentarily, Ironhide looked to the human with bright optics. "During an Interface, it is the most… intimate way that we can be with another bot. We have interface lines and ports to transmit sensory packages, eliciting pleasure, and code data that could potentially create a sparkling. An infant." He shifted again, vents sighing. "Touches to the spark go beyond basic sensory pleasure and reproductive practicality. It is… a brief combining of souls."

Lennox bit his lower lip and nodded, making a thoughtful sound. He hadn't imagined that the metal organisms could experience anything like that. For knowing them for going on three years now, there was an awful lot he didn't know about them. "Sounds… Intense."

Ironhide nodded with a soft sound. "It is."

"Okay." Picking up the bottle again and taking a long swallow, Lennox began a slow pace. "So, that's your spark, and I guess that when you called Optimus your sparkmate, you meant that your sparks are joined together more permanently."

The mech nodded, satisfied that as much had already been understood. "Yes, we are bonded through our sparks. It gives us a heightened awareness of each other, and a more deeply ingrained communication link."

Lennox paused with an arched brow up at the dark mech. "Like telepathy?"

A whine as Ironhide considered that before grunting an affirmative. "Similar, yes."

"Okay." A rolling gesture with his hands, ending in both holding the bottle. "And it's like a marriage?"

Ironhide shifted off his knee and turned to sit back against the warehouse, watching Lennox pace thoughtfully and sip his drink. "More substantial, but that is the closest term your species has for it. It is a commitment until death. If Optimus's spark is extinguished, mine will follow shortly." A flicker of a smile, and his optics warmed. "It is infrequently done during war, and a powerful symbol of our commitment."

"Right. So, you guys are… bonded on the deepest level you could possibly be, and something's happened to Optimus that's hurting you through it?" Lennox stopped to regard the sitting mech, motioning with the bottle. "Is that it? Whatever he gave the Decepticons for peace is hurting him, and so it's hurting you too?"

Ironhide seemed to steel himself, vents exhaling shakily before he slowly replied, "Megatron summoned Optimus to a private meeting, offering a peace treaty." His gaze lowered and darkened, hands clenching into fists. "He wanted an interface, with my sparkmate. To touch his spark. Violate it."

Lennox blinked, momentarily forgetting to breath. "Rape?" The word came out quiet but hard with disbelief.

A barely perceptible nod, optics still downcast. "Yes."

The soldier grasped the back of his head and turned to look in the direction of the party, mouth open. "Oh God."

"Yeah."

Nauseating silence filled the air as both waited for the other to speak. Ironhide's cannons warmed unconsciously, the powerful lines behind them flexing in agitation. Lennox was waiting to wake up, or for some similar event that would make this untrue. He couldn't connect that word with Optimus Prime. Not what it meant and what it was given what Ironhide had told him about their spark being their soul. It was impossible to think of it as applying to the indomitable, invulnerable Autobot leader, whom had literally come back from the dead once already.

But it was true, and it had happened to him.

Lennox shook his head again, turning back to Ironhide. "Fuck… Does anyone else know?"

Ironhide looked up again at the question, resting his wrists on his knees. "Only Ratchet and Prowl. Optimus doesn't want anyone else to be told, and I agree with his decision."

The soldier realised that he was gripping the neck of the bottle hard enough to hurt, and consciously relaxed his hand. "Shit."

A sound like distant thunder escaped the mech, and Ironhide forced his gaze to remain on the other. "There's… more to it, what's making it impossible to, I don't know, deal with it." Another long pause and this time he shook his head in apology. "It's difficult."

"Yeah, of course," Lennox murmured, folding his arms and allowing his gaze to wander over the ground between them as he waited for Ironhide to summon the words.

"Megatron wished to feel that he had achieved a personal victory over him," Ironhide admitted in a rush, cannons retracting back in on themselves. "He, engaged in an act completely alien to our species, and I think it's been more destructive than his spark chamber being forced was. Slag, Ratch' and I don't know where to start with it."

"What did he do?"

A shunt akin to a human swallowing loudly. "Megatron forced him to receive him in the human female way. Split open his plates and cut up his protoform."

Lennox blanched at that and lowered himself to squat when he felt his legs weaken, the forgotten bottle rolling away after it was dropped. He gripped his jaw, eyes wide on the dark mech whose hands had begun to twitch minutely. "Jesus Christ."

Sitting forward, Ironhide rested his head in his hands in a rare display of insecurity, his broad body somehow appearing smaller as he curled in to rest his weight through his elbows onto his legs, optics fixed on the floor. "It's what's making things so difficult. If there had just been a forced spark merge, Ratchet would know how to help. But such a physical attack is a mystery to us. We don't know what to do. I don't know what to do. Optimus won't let me go after Megatron because of nullifying the peace, and I can't take that from him. I won't."

The raw emotion in that husky, typically gruff voice struck Lennox hard atop everything else he'd heard, and he scrubbed his face silently for a few moments. Ironhide remained still, systems humming from tension and the High Grade that took some of the edge off his anxiety. Lost as to what he could possibly say, Lennox sat back properly in a position that almost mirrored the mech's, one hand kneading the back of his neck.

Quite obviously there was nothing he could do that would help Optimus – Ironhide had said himself that he hadn't wanted anyone else to know. But Ironhide had gradually come to him to talk, to share the burden of this terrible event and to find solace in someone else just knowing so that he could sit like this, clearly worried, torn and seething angry about what had happened to his partner. His sparkmate. These guys were joined at the soul, Lennox reiterated to himself, his hand coming to press at his closed eyes as the implications of that truly sank in. If they had a quasi-telepathic link, then Ironhide would have experienced some of the attack, if not all of it. Knew every detail of what had happened to his lover. With a resolving exhale, he decided that Ironhide needed help as much as Optimus did right now, and that was something he could try to do.

"Before I met Sara, before I joined the Rangers, I dated this college girl for a few months," he began tentatively. "Nothing serious, y'know. It didn't go anywhere. We fell out of touch for a bit and then one day her mom calls me up. Charlotte got, attacked in the park walking back from campus, and her mom was just calling everyone, anyone who might know who did it. She just didn't know what to do."

He didn't realise he'd trailed off into silence. He hadn't thought about Charlotte in years.

"Will?" Ironhide pressed softly, sounding almost reluctant to break the quiet to do so.

Lennox looked up with a grim smile, shrugging a little. "It was one of her classmates. I didn't know the guy. But she was different afterwards. Skittish, like she was waiting for something bad to happen. And really quiet. She just sort of fell in on herself."

Ironhide nodded, finding the comparisons easy to draw. "What happened?"

The soldier sighed and scrubbed a hand through his hair, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "You know, the usual therapy thing and some drugs to make her feel safer and help her sleep. She had nightmares, and sometimes flashbacks in the daytime. She had to pull out of school for a while."

"What did you do?"

Lennox found his gaze flickering away under the glowing stare. "There wasn't much I could do. First off I'm a guy, so she wasn't really comfortable with having me around, and second I was her ex. We weren't even friends, really. I talked to her on the phone a few times, told her I was there if she needed me. Not a lot. She didn't want my help."

Ironhide's optics shuttered briefly, his mouth angling into a grimace. "Optimus told me he wanted my help, but he's been reluctant to take it any further."

"Just give him time. Best thing you can do right now is give him some time and space to get his head straight. He'll come to you when he's ready," Lennox replied, happy that he could assure as much and be certain of it. "He knows you're there for him, and that you'd do anything to help him."

The dark mech simply nodded at the statement, vents hissing as he straightened his body out to sit back against the hanger again. Rubbing at his jaw, he offered a slight smile. "Thank you for listening, Will."

A vague gesture back in the direction they had come, where the party still seemed to be going strong. "You want to head back, or just sit here for a while longer?"

"Just sit here for a while," Ironhide murmured, his expression denoting something like gratitude.

Lennox got up to sit next to the hulking mech, resting his head back against the metal wall to put his gaze on the night sky. Both soldiers fell into easy silence, their thoughts turned inwards but finding comfort in the solidarity.