A/N: ...hi. I know it's been a while. But I had a very good reason. See, last Chapter, someone made a comment that got me thinking, and I realized that we really needed this Chapter. So, I started working on it, but was having a bit of difficulty with some parts and figuring out how it meshed in with the rest of the story, along with just dealing with life in general. But, it's done and here now. So...yeah...anyways, enjoy the Chapter.

Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers in any shape or form. I only own the story and any and all OCs in said story. If there's someone you're not familiar with, it's probably an OC.

PLEASE COMMENT! I NEED CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM TO MAKE MY STORIES (PRESENT, FUTURE, OR OTHERWISE) BETTER!

Amber optics blearily open, helm pounding. Delta groans. He remembered going to a bar with SkyLancer, the two of them catching up some more, and drinking to the anniversary of not only Kris's death, but also the day he and Lance met and became best friends—he was surprised to realize the two events happened on the same day.

And now he had no idea where he was. He could hear another groan coming from near his peds, where Lance was sitting, nursing his pounding helm.

"I'm never letting you convince me to drink ever again, you fragger."

Delta chuckles, sitting up slowly. His vision was still blurry, the lights burning his optics and Mechs walking by, nothing but shadows. He groans again, helm dropping into his servos—his memories were coming back, snippets of an argument, and then a fight, and being arrested flashing through his mind. He hears a pair of heavy peds approaching, and a door screeching open.

"Fighting other patrons, destruction of private property—not to mention a number of other things. The bar's owner is wanting to press charges against you two." The gravelly voice snarls.

"Why? Because I proved those idiot Mechs couldn't fight worth scrap? I'll do it again if they still think they're the Pit." Delta snarls back, the ringing in his helm reaching a new decibel.

It's quiet, and then…

"Primus dammit, kid. You really do know how to piss Mechs off. Even after all these years."

Delta looks up, confused. There was no anger in that voice now. Instead, there was…fondness? His optics narrow as he takes in the hulking figure in front of him. His vision finally clears, and his optics widen.

Faint scars littering the rust-red-colored body, massive arms crossed over a black-accented chest. Sparking blue optics filled with an emotion he was very familiar with coming from this particular bot.

"C-Commander Ironhide?"

Ironhide smiles.

"Long time, no see, you stubborn Scraplet."

Pounding helm forgotten, Delta is moving before he realizes it, burrowing his helm in the broad chest. Chuckles echo around him, arms wrapping him up in an embrace. Delta feels tears stinging his optics, barely managing to hold them back. He never even thought about how relieved he would be to find out his mentor survived all of the fighting until the older Mech was here, standing in front of him.

After that incident at the Academy, Ironhide had taken him under his proverbial wing, teaching him all he knew about fighting, his gruff attitude meshing with Delta's personality almost seamlessly in a mentor-apprentice type of relationship. And now Delta finally understood why he bonded so quickly to Papa Jack back on Earth—he was so much like Ironhide, it was scary.

They break apart, Ironhide clasping his shoulders.

"Alright, kid. Let me have a look at you…"

Delta finds himself subconsciously straightening, steely gaze roving over him, taking in every detail. Ironhide smiles.

"Well, you have grown up quite a bit, haven't you, DuskShot?"

Delta ducks his helm.

"Yeah. But I…I go by Delta now. It's a long story, but…yeah."

Ironhide quirks an optics ridge. There was something going on…but, if his kid didn't want to bare his spark and soul to him just yet, then he was okay with that. Instead, he gestures to SkyLancer, and the three of them walk away from the cells and into the main bullpen of the Enforcer outpost in old Iacon.

Delta smiles at the familiar atmosphere, memories of accompanying his dad to the sometimes-chaotic place of work every once in a while. He recognized a lot of the bots here, the older bots greeting him and SkyLancer with smiles and claps on the back. It was a bit overwhelming, but these were his people.

"Ironhide, Sir, I have that report you were asking for."

His smile fades at the sickeningly familiar voice. He slowly turns, the familiar black and bronze plating flashing slightly in the lights. Suddenly, he's moving, his fist slamming into the bot's jaw. He hits the ground, startled shouts rising up around him. Bots grab at him, dragging him away from the other, but he shakes them off.

"I'm going back to the cell." He growls, ignoring the looks the others share.

"DuskShot."

He grunts, not bothering to look at the form entering the cell. He was lounging on the berth, leaning against the wall and his arms crossed over his chest.

"What in the Pit could have possibly compelled you to hit an Enfor-"

"He's not an Enforcer, Ironhide." Delta snarls. "He doesn't deserve the title—we both know that."

He sighs. "DuskShot…Delta. I know you don't like Turnpike—you have every right not to after what he put you and SkyLancer through at the academy. But, in spite of what you want to believe, he is an Enforcer. He went through the academy, he went through all of the training, he works just as hard as anyone in this department. He has every right to the title of 'Enforcer' as anyone here."

Delta frowns, turning away from the older Mech. he knew there was some truth to what Ironhide was saying, but he didn't want to believe any of it. Seriously, of all Mechs, him? An Enforcer?

He hears Ironhide mutter something to someone, another form entering the cell.

Delta's audio twitches.

"You have a lot of nerve coming in here. Better be a good explanation."

"I…I don't have one."

He snorts, "That's rich, coming from you. If memory serves me correctly, you always seemed to have a reason for doing every fragged-up thing to Lance that you could."

Turnpike sighs.

"I know you hate me for how I treated him. And you. And I can understand-"

Delta is on his peds and looming over the slightly smaller Mech in an instance.

"Don't you dare say you understand, Turnpike. You understand nothing." He snarls. "You had everything handed to you on a silver platter your whole life. Meanwhile, bots like Lance and I have to literally fight for everything we can. We were in hell when we were at the academy—all because you couldn't stand the fact that someone else was getting the attention for something they actually worked for and succeeded at. And now you're walking around the place SkyLancer and I actually deserve to be in, and you don't care at all."

Turnpike is quiet as Delta finally finishes, his helm lowered and optics dim.

"I understand more than you think…"

Delta pauses at the quiet statement, blinking.

"What?"

His helm lifts, icy-blue optics meeting amber visor.

"I said, 'I understand more than you think'. You really think it was that easy for me? Well, it wasn't. I was seen as the spoiled kid who didn't have to work for anything—everyone saw me as that, even the Professors. Which meant I had to work even harder to prove I was capable of actually doing something worthwhile in my life. Then there was you and SkyLancer, and you were this seamless team, this duo who had things come so easy to them, who worked hard, but still had it better than anyone else, and-"

His helm lowers, servos curling into fists. "And I got jealous. So, I decided to make it miserable for you guys. I…I pushed you into situations, made decisions I'm not proud of. But I changed—I changed a long time ago, after you got hurt, because I realized that I had to become better, that I could find myself in a situation like yours, but no one would have my back. I even patched things up with SkyLancer, and was…I don't know…"

"Hoping to do the same with me?" Delta asks. He tried to find the anger, the hate he had for this Mech, but it was all gone now. He didn't understand how that could just happened, but it did.

He sighs.

"Look…Turnpike. It's great that you patched things up with Lance, that you two get along now, but…I don't know if I'm ready to just forgive you for everything."

The black and bronze Mech nods, "I don't expect you to."

"And I definitely don't trust you. But…"

He looks up, hopeful.

"But I…I think I can try. This doesn't make us friends or anything, but I am willing to try."

Turnpike smiles.

"Oh yeah, definitely not friends. That's just pushing it."

Delta finds himself chuckling.

"Maybe someday, but not yet. Sound good to you?"

Turnpike nods, "Yeah, sounds good."

"Good. Now, about hitting you. I-"

A fist slams into his jaw, and he blinks, the ceiling greeting him. He sits up, rubbing his face.

"Yep, definitely deserved that. Feel better?"

Rubbing his knuckles, Turnpike snorts.

"Yeah. I do feel better. Maybe Ironhide was right bout this whole 'talking things out' slag he keeps spouting off."

Delta chuckles as he gets to his peds, "Sure doesn't sound like him. Guess all those years having to deal with you mellowed him out."

"Oh, you take that back, you slagger."

Ironhide chuckles as the two begin mock fighting, wrestling each other to the ground. While he's definitely gonna have a long talk with Turnpike about proper conduct as an Enforcer, he was glad to see his boys finally getting along.

"Ha! You fight like you have Ironhide's rusty old joints!"

"That's so not true!"

Even if it was at his expense.