Big thanks to everyone who encouraged me to get a new chapter out. Sorry it took so long. I'm also sorry I didn't get a chance to reply to reviews last chapter like I usually do. I'll try harder this chapter to reply to any reader comments or questions.

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Unexpected News

Ironhide shakily lifted the cube of high grade to his mouth and took a long swallow. The high grade washed over his glossa and down his intake line to his fuel tank where it sat like a lead ingot. Ironhide's head felt fuzzy from it, his visual display blurry around the edges. He hadn't recharged at all since he and Optimus returned home from the hospital. It was now early morning. Sunlight warmed the eastern horizon, but it felt lukewarm and gray. Ironhide barely remembered coming home. He had left the hospital in a complete daze. If it hadn't been for Jazz and Prowl to escort them home Ironhide doubted he would have been able to find his own way back. Grief seemed to have robbed him of all ability to think or function.

Ironhide was ungracefully sprawled across the lounge in the main living area of their domicile sipping high grade. He's started drinking almost as soon as he'd walked through the door. It was all he wanted to do until the high grade finally calmed the demons in his head or he drunk himself into sweet unconsciousness. So far Ironhide had managed to find no escape from his grief.

It was all his fault. Starfall was dead. If he'd just left work a few klicks earlier he would have been there to stop that crazed mech from grabbing Starfall. If he'd taken that other exit on the freeway instead of his usual one he might have missed more traffic and been there in time to prevent the mech from getting away from the school. If he had gotten Starfall to the hospital just a few klicks sooner would Ratchet have been able to save him?

The what-ifs and could-have-beens made Ironhide literally sick to his spark. He took another swallow of high grade to try and temper the pain. It barely seemed to have any effect.

Ironhide hadn't seen Optimus since they'd returned home. Optimus had disappeared into Starfall's room joors ago. As far as Ironhide knew that was where he still was. What he was doing in there Ironhide didn't know, nor did he want to investigate to find out. The thought of going into his son's empty room where all his possessions still stood as though Starfall was to return at any minute made Ironhide's spark spasm with unbearable pain.

Like Ironhide, Optimus seemed to have been in a grief-stricken daze the entire way back to their domicile. Nor had he spoken a word to him since Ratchet showed them Starfall's body. Ironhide knew he should go and find his sparkmate to try and console him but he couldn't bring himself to get up off the lounge. Ironhide couldn't bear the thought of facing Optimus yet. Although he knew Optimus would never say anything about what happened he dreaded the silent looks of recriminations and blame in his sparkmate's optics that were sure to come for his failure to protect their son.

Ironhide took another draft of high grade. He knew he should try and recharge. His processor was sluggish from exhaustion, his spark heavy with grief. His entire body screamed for rest but Ironhide knew even if he did try to sleep he would only lay there on the berth and stare at the ceiling thinking about Starfall and how he'd failed him. How was he supposed to sleep when his life was already a waking nightmare? What were Optimus and he supposed to do now? Starfall was gone. Their family was shattered. How was someone supposed to just pick up the pieces and move on after such a loss? Could anyone actually move on after the death of a child? Ironhide had experienced loss before. He had lost countless friends, family, and comrades over the millennia. Everyone from his own sparkline was dead. But Starfall's death felt inherently different. Besides the initial tidewave of anger, grief and despair there was also an unbearable sense of guilt, failure, and an unspeakable gapping emptiness in his spark that Ironhide knew could never be filled again. The broken edges of his spark stabbed at his core with every memory of his son like razor-sharp pieces of glass. It felt like he had lost a portion of himself with Starfall's death.

Ironhide desperate gulped down more burning liquid, hoping it would drive away his pain. An unbidden sob slipped past the knot constricting his intake line. He took another swallow to drown the sound. Why wasn't the high grade working? He'd already drunk at least four cubes over the course of the night, yet his pain still felt as intense as it had been when Ratchet delicately led him and Optimus away from Starfall so other medics could take his body away.

The sudden chime of the front door pierced through the drunken haze of Ironhide's thoughts. Blearily, the old war mech looked at the door. As he did a second, more insistent buzz sounded.

"Go 'way," he slurred. His hand drunkenly shook as he lifted his cube of high grade to his mouth for yet another dose.

A third buzz echoed through the domicile. Ironhide pointedly ignored it. He didn't care who was at the door. The night before the comm-line had rung non-stop with bots calling in reaction to Starfall's death. Reporters, friends, old war buddies, and countless senators were among the callers. Neither Ironhide or Optimus had answered any of the calls, opting instead to let the messages be recorded on the automated system. Optimus hadn't left Starfall's room since returning home, and Ironhide didn't feel emotionally stable enough to field the endless line of bots calling to express empty condolences or reporters wanting to get some asinine comment from the Prime or Consort for that evening's newsfeeds – as if they really had to confirm for the public that he and Optimus were devastated by their son's death. It had only been very late after midnight that the calls finally started to tapper off into blessed silence. With the start of a new day it seemed they were to be besieged again not only with tele-com calls but bots banging at the door as well.

One last insistent buzz sounded before the door unexpectedly slid aside. Ironhide unsteadily looked up to find Jazz and Prowl standing in the doorway.

oooooooo

"Go 'way," Ironhide's empty voice muttered from deep inside the domicile. "Don't wanna talk."

Jazz felt Prowl's own jolt of surprise across their bond at their friend's disheveled state. Jazz had been expecting Ironhide and Optimus to be in mourning, but the palpable aura of grief he and Prowl found Ironhide stewing in in the darkness of his living area was shocking. The old war mech was slouched against the back of the living area's lounge, his body language slack with all-consuming grief. Thick rings of static fuzzed the edges of Ironhide's optics. The protomatter around his optics was discolored a light shade of gray – the usual indication of extreme exhaustion or emotional distress. As Jazz stepped inside the domicile Ironhide lifted a half-empty cube of what appeared to be high grade and took a deep swallow. The older mech's movements were jerky and uncoordinated. Jazz suspected he had at least three cubes of high grade in him, if not more.

Jazz cast his sparkmate a distraught look. Prowl returned it with a frown. Ironhide was spiraling into deep depression. Although such a thing was only to be expected in the wake of a child's death, such unchecked emotions were dangerous when the one experiencing them was bonded. Optimus surely was taking Starfall's death no better then Ironhide. If Jazz knew anything he was probably taking it even worse. Although Optimus had never come out and talked to either him or Prowl about it, he knew the Prime had desperately yearned for a child ever since the end of the war. He and Ironhide were no doubt feeding off of each other's grief through their sparkbond. If nothing was done to intervene it was possible for the two to get locked in a vicious cycle of heartbreak they could never break out of.

That was one of the reasons he and Prowl had stopped at the Prime's domicile before continuing on to Enforcer's HQ. Optimus and Ironhide were close friends. They should not be left to face their grief alone. Looking at Ironhide now Jazz mentally kicked himself for not insisting that he and Prowl stayed longer the night before to make sure they were alright. It was lucky Prime had given him and Prowl the passcode to their domicile in case they ever needed to enter when they weren't there. If they hadn't had it Ironhide more than likely would have just ignored their knocks and continued to drink himself into oblivion.

Concern coursed across Jazz and Prowl's sparkbond. This couldn't be allowed to continue. They had to distract the two from the worst of their grief before it became physically harmful to one or both of them.

"I'll go find Optimus," Jazz whispered.

Prowl nodded. Turing determined optics towards the despondent figure on the lunge, Prowl's doorwings stiffened. He looked like he was about to go into battle which, Jazz realized with a sinking feeling, in a way he was. Ironhide had always been a hard-headed mech. It was going to take a lot to break him out of his funk and convince him Starfall's death wasn't his fault.

Focusing on his own mission, Jazz padded down the hallway that led deeper into the domicile. Optimus hadn't been in the living area with Ironhide and Jazz felt certain he wasn't in his personal office. He was probably in the berthroom. At least, that's where Jazz would be if it was him who just lost a child. He would want to lay down and never get up again. He couldn't imagine what he would do if Kia ever died – especially in such a brutal way as Starfall had. After escorting Optimus and Ironhide back to their domicile the night before, he and Prowl had returned to their own home to relieve Kia's babysitter. Jazz had spent several joors just holding his daughter and cherishing the feel of her spark pulsing next to his. He had seen brutality and unspeakable violence during the Great War. In some ways he had become desensitized to it. But this – this malicious targeting of a child simply because of his frame-type – made Jazz physically sick to his spark. What kind of world were they living in where a child was killed because of such prejudiced hate? It made him never want to let Kia out of his sight again. If the Prime's own child wasn't safe, then whose was?

"Optimus?" Jazz gently called at the doorway of Optimus and Ironhide's berthroom. He was surprised to find no one inside. He glanced towards the doorway of the only other room Optimus could be in. His spark sank. "Optimus?" he called as he slipped inside Starfall's room.

The room was dark. The only illumination came from the hallway. Optimus forlornly sat on the edge of Starfall's berth, his head and shoulder sagging in a posture of hopeless despair. As Jazz slowly came closer he noticed that Optimus had the sides of his face mask retracted. A data pad was held in one hand. Jazz thought Optimus was holding something else in his other hand, but he couldn't really tell for sure. He didn't have time to try and figure out what it was because when he came within the last few feet of Optimus he saw Optimus's optics which almost made his footsteps falter.

Optimus stared down at the data pad in his hand with the emptiest optics Jazz had ever seen. It was like every shred of happiness or hope had been sucked out of the Prime. Jazz was slightly frightened. Never had he seen Optimus look so grief-stricken or lost before – not even during the bleakest days of the war. Even when things had been at their worst, Optimus had always maintained a certain aura of majestic confidence and poise. Right now he looked like a mech who'd just lost the will to continue living.

Jazz carefully sat the edge of the berth beside Optimus. "Hey," he softly greeted as he placed a consoling hand on Optimus's knee joint.

Optimus came out of his trance with a small start. He looked at Jazz as if he hadn't even realized the saboteur was there until now. "Jazz? What are you doing here?" His voice was nothing but a hollow croak.

Jazz's spark ached with sympathy. "Prowl an' I stopped by ta make sure you an' Ironhide were okay. D'ya two need anything? Is there anything we can do ta help?"

Optimus's optics dimmed with heartache as he looked back down at the data pad. "No. There's nothing you or Prowl can do."

"What are you looking at?" Jazz asked, motioning with his chin towards the data pad.

It took Optimus a moment to find his voice. "It's one of Starfall's stories," he emptily murmured. "When we adopted him the only things he had to call his own were a couple of secondhand data pads one of the hatchling facility's workers had given him. Even after I bought him new ones he still liked to go back and read his old stories. This was the first one I ever read to him before recharge."

Optimus lifted his other hand and opened it to reveal a small purple crystal. It looked like something one would buy in a store. "I bought this for Star the day Ironhide and I took him to the Crystal Gardens. It was our first time out together as a family. He loved it. He kept it with him all the time in his subspace compartment. Ratchet-" Optimus's voice caught for a moment. "Ratchet returned it to me last night before we left the hospital."

Jazz felt his spark break with sympathy. For several moments he could find no words. "Optimus… I'm so sorry. I can't even begin to imagine what you're going through. Star was a good kid. He really was. It wasn't fair what happened to him."

"He was the son Ironhide and I had always wanted. We had tried for so long for a sparkling of our own, but neither of us was ever able to conceive. Star was Primus's answer to our prayers."

"I know you're hurting right now but you can't blame yourself or Ironhide for what happened. No one could have known Star was in danger."

"I don't blame Ironhide," Optimus murmured, his optics emptily staring at the crystal in his hand. "I don't blame anyone except the mech that took my son away from me. I want to forgive him, or at least understand his motives. It's one of my main directives as Prime. But… I can't. I just can't. It goes against everything I stand for as Prime, but all I want to do is to go up to that mech and make him feel the same pain I'm feeling."

Jazz's concern deepened. Although such feelings were justified coming from a parent who'd just lost a child, such thoughts did not sound like the reactions of the Optimus Jazz knew. Those sounded more like the thoughts of Ironhide. It looked like his and Prowl's concerns were justified. Optimus and Ironhide were feeding off each other's emotions. This couldn't be allowed to continue or one or both of them were liable to make themselves sick with grief.

"You can't think like that, Optimus," Jazz gently insisted. "This isn't you. Star wouldn't have wanted you to think like this."

Optimus opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off by a muffled tele-com ring that echoed down the length of the hallway. It sounded like it was coming from Optimus's office. It rang for several moments then went silent. Within nano-clicks it began to ring again. A loud voice suddenly rose up over the sound.

Jazz frowned. That was Ironhide's voice. Although he couldn't make out any words, he thought Ironhide sounded angry. He felt Prowl's side of their bond flare with concern.

Optimus blinked. He seemed to shake himself out of his depressed stupor a little at the sound of his sparkmate's voice.

"Come on," Jazz said. "Let's go see what's wrong."

oooooooo

Prowl scrutinized Ironhide as he walked into the living area. Ironhide was obviously drunk. His slouched posture and the pinched rings of gray around his optics said as much. Prowl did a quick calculation and figured there were at least 42 different ways this conversation could go – only five of which ended without raised voices or flared tempers. Ironhide was grieving the loss of a child and although he didn't show it right now, he was soon going to be looking for someone to take his grief and anger out on. Given the odds, Prowl decided the best way to approach Ironhide was to be as direct as possible. Might as well get straight to the point.

"I see you've been drinking," Prowl said as he sat on the lounge cattycorner to Ironhide.

"Wha's it to yeh?" Ironhide mumbled. He spared Prowl a drunken, halfhearted glare out of the corner of his optic. Instead of intimidating Prowl it only made his worry deepen.

Prowl leaned closer to Ironhide to convey the sincerity of his concern. "I understand that the loss of a child is unimaginable, but you're not doing yourself or anyone else any good sitting in a dark room trying to drink away what happened. Especially Optimus. He's hurting right now just as much as you. He needs you to be strong to help him through this, just like you need him."

Ironhide tried to give a bitter scoff but it sounded more like a choked off sob. "How can ah be strong fer Optimus when it's my fault Star's gone? Ah can't even bear the thought of facin' him right now. It was my job ta pick Star up, ta keep him safe. That's wha' fathers are supposed ta do. But ah failed. Yeh can't tell me some small part of Optimus ain't gonna blame me fer what happened. It was my fault."

"I know for a fact Optimus would never blame you for something like this," Prowl said, his voice stern with conviction. "You're in pain and looking for some way to explain what happened. You might feel some sense of responsibility, but this wasn't your fault."

Ironhide shakily took another swallow of high grade. Empty optics blearily stared at the dark tele-consol mounted on the opposite wall. Silence reigned for several minutes. Prowl thought maybe Ironhide was trying to ignore him to make him go away. He was just about to speak up when Ironhide surprised him and unexpectedly began to talk.

"Yeh know wha' the worst thing about this entire mess is?" Ironhide shakily took another sip of high grade as the static lining the edges of his optics fuzzed thicker. "Ah was just startin' ta really like the kid. When Optimus first brought Star home all ah could see was Starscream. Fer the longest time ah hated him. But then… then ah started ta see that Star really wasn't Starscream. He was a good kid. He was smart and funny. All he ever wanted ta do was make other people happy. The happiest day of meh life was the first time Star ever called me daddy. It made me feel like ah'd actually done something good with my life ta earn that name."

Prowl winced at the unexpected stab of heartache that assaulted him at Ironhide's confession. He had known Optimus and Ironhide had cared for Starfall as their own son, but to actually have Ironhide come out and say how much Starfall had meant to him made his friend's loss that much more painful to bear witness to. Ironhide hadn't just started to like Starfall. He had loved him to the very core of his being. Prowl realized he had to do something to help Ironhide, even if he had to be tough doing it.

In a single move too fast for Ironhide to stop in his drunken state, Prowl leaned forward and snatched the cube of high grade out of Ironhide's hand. He carefully set it on the table far out of Ironhide's reach.

"Hey!"

"No," Prowl forcefully said. "You have to snap out of this. I know you're hurting and that you miss Starfall but you can't keep blaming yourself."

"Why can't ah?" Ironhide drunkenly snapped. "My kid's dead because 'a me. Ah was supposed ta go pick him up, but ah was late. If ah'd been there in time ah would'a been there ta stop that mech from grabbin' him. Ah wasn't there ta protect my son. Ah wasn't even fast enough ta get him ta the hospital in time fer Ratchet ta save him."

Prowl was slightly taken aback. He'd seen Ironhide through rough times before – in the wake of devastating battles, at the funerals of fallen comrades, and on days when the war seemed all but a lost cause - but never had he ever seen him express so many raw emotions before. In a way, he felt like he was seeing a completely new side to Ironhide he'd never known existed before now. Ironhide rarely ever expressed his feelings or talked about emotions. To see him like this now reminded Prowl just how badly he must be hurting inside.

"Ironhide," Prowl sighed, awkwardly resting a hand on the older mech's knee, "I'm so sorry for your loss. For both you and Optimus. No matter what you think, none of this was your fault. And blaming yourself for Starfall's death isn't going to bring him back."

A strangled sound clicked in the back of Ironhide's throat. He hung his head and off-lined his optics as though to collect himself. Prowl kept his hand on Ironhide's knee if only to give the other mech an anchor to keep himself grounded to as he tried to rein his emotions back under control.

"Do you believe in Primus?" Ironhide unexpectedly croaked.

Prowl blinked at the question. This line of conversation hadn't been part of his initial calculations. "Yes. He is our race's god." In all honesty, Prowl was doubtful of the existence of an all-knowing being that supposedly guided the fate of their race, but he didn't feel that was something Ironhide needed to hear right now.

"Do you think Primus is merciful?"

"Yes. What are you getting at?"

For a moment it looked like Ironhide was too distraught to find the words he needed to express himself. "It's just that… ever since Optimus an' ah got back from the hospital all ah've been wonderin' is if Star's okay. Did Vector Sigma really clean Starscream's spark enough before he was reborn? Ah keep tryin' ta remember everything Optimus once said 'bout Vector Sigma – 'bout how it restored Starscream's spark ta how it was before he joined Megatron. But no matter wha' ah do ah can't stop wonderin' if my son's in the Pit right now sufferin'."

Prowl's fuel tank curdled with understanding. What a terrible thought for a parent to be saddled with. To not only have to mourn the death of one's child but also wonder if that child was suffering eternal torment for sins he'd committed in a previous life was an unbearable thought. Starfall must have worked himself even deeper into Ironhide's spark than he'd originally thought for Ironhide to be agonizing over such things.

"Ironhide… I am no theologian. I've never taken much interest in religion or the metaphysical. I've always prided myself in focusing on the logical. But there is no way I can believe that Starfall is in the Pit right now. I cannot believe that a god that is supposed to be merciful and kind would ever send such a young and innocent spark to the Pit no matter what things he did in a past life. Starfall was a good spark. He was nothing like the mech we used to know."

"Ah wanna believe yeh. Ah keep tryin' ta tell myself the same things. But how can ah know fer sure? How can ah know my son's spark is safe? That he's not hurtin' right now because 'a what Starscream did?"

"I am sorry, but I don't have answers for those kinds of questions," Prowl regretfully said. Unbearable helplessness washed over him. What was he supposed to say to Ironhide? No platitude or empty assurance would ever be able to quiet such fears. Unless someone discovered a way to speak directly to Primus and be able to hear his answers, there was no way they would ever truly know Starfall's fate.

A silence heavy with the weight of unanswerable questioned settled over them. As Prowl racked his processor for something to say, a sudden tele-com ring startled him. It was coming from Optimus's office. He glanced at Ironhide, but the other mech made absolutely no move to get up. In fact, Ironhide barely even turned his head to acknowledge the sound.

"Do you want me to answer that for you?"

"No," Ironhide wearily shook his head. "It's probably just some senator or ol' war buddy callin' ta say they're sorry about wha' happened ta Star. People were callin' all last night. D'yeh know even Kup called? Ah heard his voice through the door when the message log kicked on. It was just a continual string a' calls an' ah couldn't stand ta actually pick up an' talk ta anyone. A part 'a me just wants ta pull the line out of the wall. It's not like any 'a their condolences can actually bring Star back…"

The rings of the tele-com abruptly ended as Prowl heard the message log kick on. Whoever was calling, however, didn't want to leave a message. The log's recorded message directing the caller to leave their name and contact info abruptly stopped only several seconds after beginning. Almost immediately the tele-com became to ring again.

"Goddamit!" Ironhide unexpected roared. Prowl flinched back from the angry mech. "Why can't they just leave us alone?!"

"Ironhide-"

"Unless they can bring my kid back, ah don't wanna hear anymore people say how sorry they are 'bout wha' happened!"

"Ironhide, calm down," Prowl sternly admonished. This reaction was what he had been hoping to prevent.

From the office, the message log once again kicked on and was immediately cut off by the person on the other side hanging up.

"What's going on in here?" a third voice suddenly said from the doorway to the room. Prowl looked up to find Optimus and Jazz standing there. His immediate thought was that Optimus looked just as bad, if not worse, than Ironhide did. Pale circles of gray ringed tired blue optics which made the Prime's already haggard looking face look even more empty and lost. Despite this, concern filled Optimus's optics as he studied his distraught sparkmate.

From Optimus's office, the tele-com began to ring a third time.

"That's it!" Ironhide roared over the insistent rings. He pushed himself off the lounge to his pedes and began to drunkenly stumble for the office. "Ah'm disconnectin' it! If one more person calls ta say how sorry they are 'bout Star ah swear ah'm gonna go insane!"

"'Hide," Optimus worriedly called as the other mech stormed inside the office.

Prowl frowned as he got up to follow. He had calculated a scenario similar to this happening. He had to calm Ironhide down before he accidentally hurt himself or someone else. There were several different ways this could go considering how belligerent and unsteady Ironhide was from high grade right now. None of them were good.

"Ironhide!" he called as he, Jazz, and Optimus hurried after him into the office. Ironhide was already sitting in the chair in front of the tele-com, blindly pulling at wires and cables, by the time they streamed inside.

"Ironhide, stop!" Prowl ordered.

"'Hide, please stop this," Optimus chorused, his voice strained with stress. "This isn't helping."

The old war mech, however, seemed oblivious to them. "Ah don't wanna talk ta anymore people," he growled as he drunkenly tore at the tele-com's control panel.

In his rage, Ironhide must have accidentally hit the receive key on the consol because a face unexpectedly appeared on the screen.

"Where the hell have you been?!" a familiar voice snarled over the line. "I've been trying to get a hold of you for the last five klicks!"

All the mechs in the room froze. Even Ironhide paused in his rampage against the tele-com machine in surprise at seeing Ratchet's face suddenly appear on the screen.

"Ratchet?" Ironhide croaked. "Wha' are yeh-?"

"You and Optimus need to get to the hospital. Now," Ratchet ordered. His voice was tight with some emotion Prowl couldn't immediately identify.

Ironhide stared at the screen, his optic ridges furrowing together in drunken confusion. "Wha? Why?"

"Starfall's still alive. You and Optimus need to get here as soon as you can."

For several moments of stunned silence, there was no immediate reaction from anyone in the room. Finally, Optimus managed to find his voice.

"H-how?" He sounded too afraid to hope.

"A medic discovered him in the morgue a few joors ago. I just got out of emergency surgery to finish fixing Starfall's internal damage. I don't know how to explain it but he's still alive. He's under heavy anesthetic right now, but you should be here for when he wakes up."

There were several more spark-pulses of stunned silence before Optimus shakily said, "Ironhide and I will be right there."

To be continued

Comments, questions, thoughts? Leave them in a review!