Rex hates Galloway on sight, but his outburst comes with consequences he's not ready to deal with...
Hey guys!
It's been a while huh.
As promised, here's Rex meeting Galloway, and the first verbal mention of Rex's learning disability to, well, everyone.
The mission in Shanghai goes the kind of bad that will probably end up becoming the next textbook example of how not to destroy half a city block. But this time, at least, it isn't even Rex's fault. Not even mostly Rex's fault.
Rex jerks awake when the plane touches down. He yawns and rubs at his face, shaking away the daze of sleep. He's still tired, he should sleep for another couple of hours. Days.
He knows, already, that he probably won't get the chance.
He stands up, stretches some of the stiffness out of his joints. As he gets off the plane, he spares a second to hope that he gets the chance to sit in the debrief as Will calmly and capably rips into every choice Diaz made that led them here. He still remembers awkwardly sitting in on the training sessions for the new recruits, where Will tore apart videos of Rex's own fuck-ups.
He just really, really wants to be there for this one.
Because Johnny Diaz is the most arrogant, conceited son of a bitch Rex's ever met. Actually, son of a bitch isn't right, because by all accounts his mother is practically an angel, so maybe he's just a bitch.
Rex looks at Will. He's quiet, but Rex's pretty sure that the motivating factor is that they lost people this time around. He wonders how many soldiers he's flown to their last missions, how many young faces passed in front of Will's eyes, out of his plane, and came back carried as corpses, if they came back at all.
Prime is quiet, too. There's a knowledge, shared between him and Will.
Ironhide is standing with Rex in the shadow of the hangar, waiting for him. He and Will are almost never more than arms' length apart if they're in the same place. There's a rumor that Ironhide and Will have a real love affair brewing, and there are nights where Rex checks the hangar, just in case Will spends too much time there.
Rex's eyes draw towards the horizon.
"The fuck?" His voice breaks Will's focus.
He glances over, face screwed up and jaw set at an unfriendly angle. By the time he makes it to Rex's side, he has given up on trying not to scowl.
Whoever this guy, Rex is begrudgingly impressed. It usually takes him a solid half-hour to piss Will off this bad.
Next to him, Ironhide makes a low sound of amusement.
"He looks important."
" He ," Will says, "is a real son of a bitch."
"Hm," Ironhide says, musingly. "Is that a common figure of speech here? Or are you insulting his parent?"
"Figure of speech, buddy," Rex says, following one step behind Will. "This guy really doesn't like you, huh?"
"He doesn't like any of us."
Will sounds like he's working not to take that personally and failing. It must be causing some cognitive dissonance for him, having someone dislike him and his team.
Rex hates Galloway on sight. He walks right past Epps and his crew, and Rex can tell, in an instant, that this man is going to piss him off. He can hear his own voice in his head, sneering; look at this prissy, goddamn asshole. Looks at his fucking suit. Hey, Will, we gotta pretend to take this guy seriously or can I go ahead and shoot him ?
"Director Galloway," Will says, with the narrow-eyed squint he usually saves for the shooting range. He looks about five seconds away from drawing his sidearm, emptying the clip into him.
"I would show you around, but you don't have clearance to be here -"
It amazes Rex, how the man saunters past Will as if he were stepping into a day spa and not a secret military base. He walks with the same stiff-spined professionalism Rex has seen from every other suit here. Nothing about him would suggest that he could ever be a threat.
Rex doesn't miss a step, but a frown pulls down one corner of his mouth. He very deliberately chooses not to look at Galloway too long.
"I have a message for you and your space buddies. You guys made a mess of Shanghai."
"Wow, starting with a low blow," Rex says.
He glances at Will. Will shoots him a look, but when he waves Rex towards the debriefing, Rex chooses to follow along instead if causing problems.
Will takes him straight to the debriefing area. Prime is already there, but he's more of an observe-and-wait type, and doesn't say anything to the man that's hauling himself up onto the walkway Will and Rex just effortlessly climb their way up to.
"Alright, secure a link to JCS."
The guy next to Rex starts tapping at the screen. The screen behind him brightens and then flips to two separate camera feeds. One shows Rex and Will standing in front of a bank of computers, heads cocked at nearly identical angles, mouths pursed in matching frowns. The other feed shows the General, sitting around an otherwise empty table.
Rex decides to lean against the railing and just listen; his head is tipped low and his eyes are closed, as if he's bored at one of the debrief meetings he's never actually attended.
"Will, I saw the op. You guys had a rough day out there."
"Yes, sir. We have intel that I believe warrants an immediate debrief."
Rex doesn't get intimidated anymore by how large Prime is, how ridiculously tall, because there's nothing in this world that could make Prime hurt him. The opposite is true: show him any kind of weakness, and he'll make himself into a shield to protect you from it.
Rex watches him with one eye open, and there is something in the way he moves, the innate knowledge of his body's capabilities, his constant awareness of the exact breadth of his reach and strength and the people around him, that reminds Rex of a god among men.
He doesn't need to look to know his own awe-inspired expression is mirrored in every person's face here.
Galloway looks at Prime like he's something dangerous that gained sentience in a high-level government lab they forgot about.
"Excuse me!"
The look Prime gives Galloway appears, on its surface, to be entirely polite. He doesn't sigh or narrow his eyes. But Rex makes a mental note to ask him later what he thinks of the man, because Prime doesn't set his shoulders like that unless he's making some kind of point.
"But you don't actually know who… the Fallen is, do you?" Galloway asks, looking up. "Does anyone here know? You - got any theories you'd like to share with the American government?"
Galloway doesn't sound any more respectful or awed when he's level with Prime than he did when he talked to Will. Rex shares a dark look with Will and then refocuses on Galloway.
"After the fiasco in Shanghai, the President has lost confidence that the job is getting done. Not to mention the disaster in Germany, or the mess you made of the Argentina op. And the national park in Bolivia? Do you have any idea how much we owe their nation?"
"I guess we got carried away while we were trying to save every other national park on the planet," Will says, and this time, Rex can hear the anger in his voice.
"It's a diplomatic nightmare," Galloway says. "And if one of your alien buddies can do this much damage, imagine what an army could do! You and your men should be working on fixing the problem your alien friends created when they sent that message into space."
"Hey," Rex says, straightening up. Behind him, he hears Prime shift, like he's going to intervene, but Rex feels like he maintained his composure for what feels like a truly admirable three minutes.
"We didn't handwrite an invitation to the Decepticons to 'Come to earth and fuck up Yellowstone Park'."
"Rex," Will says, probably because he can see exactly where this is headed.
"Soldier," Galloway says, suddenly, swinging his head around to stare directly at him, "you don't have a reason to be up here."
"Got nowhere else to be."
Galloway squints appraisingly at him. "You're the one who made a mess of the Siberia op."
"I've already explained to him that being suicidally heroic isn't the default setting for most people and he's actually the outlier, sir," Epps says.
"He's certainly the outlier on this team," Will mutters under his breath, tone dry enough to make a desert jealous.
Rex tries to tell him, with his eyes, and the middle finger he raises in his direction, how unhelpful he is being at the moment.
"We don't need any more loose cannons in the field, Major. Get your man under control, or I will personally request his discharge," Galloway says, tone so heavy with derision that Rex damn near gets flashbacks to his dad.
"Yes, sir," Rex says instead of Will, saluting, every inch of the gesture something between a joke and an insult.
Will makes a strangled noise and drops his head into his open hand, and Rex decides to make more of an effort by adding, "I will keep my heroics to a minimum, General."
Because if there's one person to stay on the good side of, it's this man.
The General looks him over for a moment, and Rex holds still for it, lets the man decide for himself whether he's telling the truth or not.
He nods. "I expect the only thing you'll be jumping out of in the future is a perfectly good plane, soldier."
Rex's face is still for a second and then he smiles.
Galloway's face is on the edge of dangerous, his scowl massively unhappy as he folds his arms across his chest and glares at Rex, like he doesn't care about the weight the General's character assessment carries.
"Yes, sir."
"Perhaps we can focus on more important matters now."
With great reluctance, Galloway pulls his gaze away from him.
"Under the classified alien corporation act, your space friends agreed to share their intel with us, but not their advancements in weaponry."
"We've witnessed your capacity for war. It would absolutely do more harm than good," Prime says.
He'd observed the Rex's interaction with the man silently, eyes moving between them, lingering the longest on Rex.
He should find that comforting, but the flash of disgust across Galloway's face makes him feel like something cold burrows into his chest, making itself at home.
Rex's hands curl tight into fists.
"... But who are you to decide what's best for us?"
Prime says nothing, and it's sad, but when he looks at Galloway there's not a single scrap of anger in it. Of course there isn't. Instead, he tries to fully and completely, with every peaceable inclination he has – to find a diplomatic way forward.
The problem is that he was never going to have much luck with that.
Rex closes his eyes, because he can focus on that, on Prime's voice, eyes already drifting closed as he leans back. He could probably doze off to it, but there's no way he could cover everything else before he fell asleep out of boredom. Like the Tech Guy's unnecessary loud typing or Galloway's voice …
He thinks about letting Will handle this. He intends to. But then Galloway keeps talking, and Rex makes the mistake of listening.
"... So if we ultimately conclude that our national security is best served by denying you further asylum, will you leave peacefully ?"
"Jesus, did that actually sound smart to you in your head before you said it?" Rex says, from where he's still brooding over by the railing.
Something dark and touched with anger flickers across his face, and before Will can even open his mouth to talk him down, he snarls, "You should think over what you're gonna say next. For the sake of your dignity, stop treating them like they're civilians trespassing on your property. You talk like that some more, and I'm gonna take offense."
"I'm speaking on behalf of The US government that we don't trust their kind."
"Please, this whole shadow organization is a shitshow of damage control," Rex says, feeling the definite snap of the last of his patience. "I've seen the notes on the break room fridges. Nobody in this place trusts anybody from National Security. But we trust the Autobots."
Will's mouth tips up in a small smile, and Prime full-on looks at Rex with the intensity of… well, Prime , and it's only then that Rex realizes he said we instead of they .
"Rex," Will says, sounding somewhere between exasperated and wrecked.
" They ," Galloway spits, "are refugees that we have allowed sanctuary on our planet -"
Rex snorts. "You need to rethink that," he says, tipping his head to the side, and next to him Will heaves a heavy, burdened sigh. "If you can, with your fucked-up depth perception, sir ."
Everything goes still for a moment, and everyone watches in silence as what is clearly a staring contest between Rex and Galloway starts.
"Christ," the underpaid tech guy next to Rex whispers, watching it play out.
Will doesn't roll his eyes or tell him to shut up, because he is, technically, supposed to be a figure of authority right now. But he looks at Rex as if he hasn't entirely ruled out having to restrain Rex once he realizes that Galloway isn't going to drop dead by himself.
There's something in Galloway's eyes, in that moment, that Rex recognizes.
His smile - sick and smug, superior and amused - is borrowed straight off Rex's father's face. The look of him, the eyes, the way he's standing there with a smile on his face while he looks down at Rex, it's right from his father's handbook.
It looks less like he's smiling and more like he's inviting Rex to attempt to try something on him.
As he steps closer to him, Rex weighs it out in his head, but then he swallows, stares instead.
He knows better. He's learned better.
Looking down at him, Galloway starts in on some kind of speech - "I've been paying attention to you, you know. Ever since your file ended up on my desk with all of its notes and comments about your… problems."
If Thomas Prola were here, this is exactly the kind of thing that would make Rex stand in front of him and raise his fists.
But Galloway couldn't resemble his father less, with his sandy brown hair and green eyes, but he's sure got the attitude down cold, and Rex wonders when he'll stop feeling like a small kid whenever he's confronted with military men.
"Several red flags came up with your name on it. Do you know why that is, soldier?"
Rex falters, eyes dodging to Prime and then back to Galloway. The Autobot Leader's eyes track attentively between the two of them. Rex doesn't want to show any vulnerabilities, give Galloway any ideas of his weaknesses.
He feels, somehow, like Galloway already knows enough.
"No, sir."
"It's because your Commanding officer has yet to receive a single piece of paper with your name on it since you arrived here. That's not a standard issue weapon."
Galloway takes several long, controlled steps forward, and Rex holds himself steady, just out of reaching distance. He's wearing standard uniform, nothing out of the ordinary, and he has his SIG Sauer P229 in a holster on his thigh.
"And those are not 9mm rounds."
Rex shrugs, unholstering his SIG with a professional ease that for a moment provokes dissonant feelings of comfort and varying levels of unease in Galloway. He doesn't seem to like the idea that Rex knows how to handle a gun (and the thought almost makes Rex snort).
As for Rex, he likes the idea that he might even get to.
"I like a little bit of flash," he says, offhand, as if he expects the other man to believe that the difference between their standard issue weapons and this is 'a little bit of flash'.
"What kind of bullets are those?"
Rex smiles, like he thinks this conversation is funny. Or like he's not particularly worried about the point the other man is making.
"The skull-hollowing kind." He shrugs again, his smile getting wider. "Any more questions?"
The cartridges can penetrate 16mm of steel plating at two hundred meters. At a hundred, it can slam through body armor. Here, up close and personal, and no armor between the two of them, he could feed Galloway the muzzle and watch the man's brain burst out the back of his head easy.
"You stole NEST property."
Rex stares. "What?"
"Since you haven't filled out any of the necessary forms, you didn't requisition your weapon through the proper channels."
He stiffens, his hand freezing on his thigh holster. He has to force himself to take his hands off the grip of his gun.
"You do have the necessary forms, do you not?"
"I lost them," Rex says, which is a ridiculous lie, since they're the only things in his room that aren't clothes or weapons. He's been thinking about asking Will to help him with them.
"Then I'll get you new forms."
Galloway smirks at him, and Rex comes to a conclusion he doesn't like…
He laughs, and he hates the sound of it. It gives too goddamn much away. He straightens immediately, jaw setting, shoulders tensing.
"Don't I need to fill out a form to ask for more forms?"
"Yes, you do, actually," Galloway says, and it sounds like he's trying to use small words, "If you need someone to sit next to you and remind you how to spell your own name, I'm sure there are people who'd be happy to."
Rex fights to keep from punching him and walking off.
He half expects Galloway to keep going, to suggest Rex get enrolled into a learning program, or maybe make a joke and say he'll get gold stars every time he spells a word right, he's heard it before , but before he can Rex says, "No, sir,", swallowing down a shame that he's never been able to verbalize.
"No, sir, what?"
"I don't need help," he says, trying (and failing) not to sound like he's making sure to talk slowly, because he's afraid the words will tangle in his mouth and prove Galloway right.
"If you take any more NEST property without the proper paperwork, I'll revoke your base access."
Rex looks at Will, panicked; the enormity of the threat chasing any smart-assed words out of him.
"The next time, you'll be looking at disciplinary action. Have I made myself clear?"
Rex looks at him and his throat closes up. A heatwave goes through his body. He opens his mouth, but no words come out and save him. Except -
"Yes, sir." It comes out harsher than he intends, angry, and bitter.
There's nothing about his body language that actually says surrender, but Rex still feels oddly like he's been put on show, his stupidity advertised like a big, glowing sign over his head.
He feels every inch the stupid kid who'd grown up to waste everybody's time; feels as dumb as he had when he was six, seven, eight, and the teachers sent a note home with him, about his problems , about how he's dumber than the other kids, or when he was fourteen, and he got held back a grade for the second time…
Someone - the General - clears his throat. Rex forces his hands to unfurl; his knuckles are starting to ache. He closes his eyes.
Will starts talking, but Rex doesn't have it in him to listen. He needs out. He needed to be out minutes ago.
He's still for a second, and then he deliberately steps away and turns, brisk and businesslike, and walks off.