You don't have to say you love me

Just be close at hand

You don't have to stay forever

I will understand

Believe me, believe me

That you don't have to love me

But believe me, I'll never tie you down

- Elvis Presley: You don't have to say you love me -

"That seems ta have gone well," Ironhide remarked, sharp optics focusing everywhere but on the tall mech next to him and the pink femme leaving his premises.

"Elita is magnificent," the Prime agreed. "As she has always been. I am lucky to have her by my side."

"Uh-huh," Ironhide replied wryly. "And will she stand by yer side?"

"She's fighting her own fight," the Prime sighed. "For now, that takes priority." A smile stole across his face, just in time for Ironhide to see it before the blast mask clicked back into place. "She did tell me she loved me, though."

"Good." Ironhide's tone was deliberately gruff. "Ya deserve no less."

"Thank you." The Prime's hand gave his shoulder a squeeze. "And what about you, old friend?"

Ironhide glanced at him again before resuming his vigilant watch. Even here, in the Prime's personal quarters, safety wasn't guaranteed. "What about me, Prime?"

"You know what I mean." Another affectionate shoulder squeeze. "You shouldn't be alone, Ironhide."

He didn't reply to that. After all, what could he say?

"Elita has a femme under her command that she wants you to meet," the Prime continued, oblivious. "Chromia is much like you."

Ironhide snorted. "I know of Chromia. That femme is a firecracker." He shook his head. "Her and me, we'd get along like a house on fire, and not in a good way. It would be hot and bright with nothin' left but ashes."

The Prime laughed. "You may be right. Still, there must be someone out there for you, don't you think?"

Ironhide grinned. "Are ya indicating that I should find someone ta warm my berth? Because there is a pair of twin pleasurebots who keep askin' me back."

The Prime stuttered, embarrassingly decent mech that he was. "Well, that - I mean - no, not just berthwarmers," he chuckled. Ironhide knew those cheeks were heating up under the mask. "You deserve someone who really cares for you, Ironhide."

Ironhide hesitated. Sometimes he wondered if the Prime really was as blind as he appeared. But then the taller mech looked at him with those guileless optics, and Ironhide shoved all his doubts and hopes to the back of his mind again.

"Don't worry about me, Prime," he replied, shaking his head. "Not all of us are lucky enough ta have someone who loves us back. I'm content as it is."

Prime looked at him for a moment longer, then nodded. "Very well, my friend. I won't push if you don't want me to."

"There's no need for pushin'." Ironhide grinned. "I'm good, Prime."

"I wish you'd call me Optimus," the Prime said softly. "At least when we're in private like 's no need for such formality. We're old friends."

"The day may yet come when I do," Ironhide replied. He nodded towards the entrance. "I see the next shift has arrived."

"So it seems," the Prime replied, acknowledging the twins' salute with a nod and a smile. "Do you have plans for your off-shift?"

Ironhide shrugged. "Refuel. Talk ta some friends. Then there's a target series with my designation on it down at the range."

"Fun," the Prime chuckled. "Enjoy your free time, my friend. I'll see you tomorrow."

Ironhide saluted lazily. "Good night, Prime."

He nodded at the twins as he walked past them. They were among the few he trusted to guard the Prime aside from himself, Jazz and a handful of others. He knew the Prime would be in capable hands, but it still hurt to walk away.

Of course, that wasn't just because it was his responsibility to keep the Prime safe.

He ambled towards the rec room. He needed to refuel, but he was in no hurry to arrive. It would be packed at this point because of the shift change, and he wasn't tempted by the prospect. He'd rather have some time alone to clear his head.

So seeing Ratchet walking towards him with a slight smirk and two energon cubes in his hands felt like a fragging gift from Primus.

"Come on," the medic said. "Blaster says the officer's lounge is clear, and he's leaving as soon as we get there."

"Sounds perfect." Ironhide relieved Ratchet of one of the cubes. "How did ya know?"

Ratchet gave him a sympathetic look. "You just came off duty. Guarding him."

Nothing more needed to be said. They knew each other too well and had had that same conversation too many times.

They walked in silence to the officer's lounge. Blaster was holding the door for them, clearly about to leave.

"G'night, mechs." He smiled, but it was a tired expression. "I've locked the place down for you. Won't be anyone in there to interrupt." His optics met Ironhide's.

Blaster knew, Ironhide realized. He'd never told the mech, and he knew Ratchet hadn't either, so somehow Blaster had figured it out by himself.

Meeting the comms mech's optics was like looking into a mirror. Ironhide recognized every single emotion Blaster was trying to hide.

"Hang in there," Blaster said softly as Ironhide moved to walk past him. "It gets easier."

"Thanks," he replied gruffly. "Let me know if ya need anything."

Blaster saluted lazily – Ironhide was sure it was an act - and shut the door behind him.

Ratchet dropped into one of the sofas. "So how is he? Optimus?"

"His usual self." Ironhide sat down heavily next to his friend. "Elita was there tonight. That always cheers him up."

"And drags you down," Ratchet countered.

Ironhide just grunted. It was the truth, and they both knew it. No point in arguing.

They'd done that too many times to count, too.

Ratchet looked at him over the rim of his cube. "You know, you could tell him."

Ironhide snorted. "An' what good would that do?"

"You don't know until you try," Ratchet insisted gently. "As it is, I worry for you, Ironhide. You're tormenting yourself."

"But at least I'm here ta be worried about," Ironhide said. "If I told him, he'd be feelin' guilty because he don't feel the same. And then he'd look at me with those sad optics. I can't take that, so I'd transfer away, because that would be easier fer the both of us. No." He drank deeply. "I'd rather be here, where I can keep an optic on him, than havin' ta worry about him from afar."

"I won't push," Ratchet said, despite having done just that on a multitude of occasions. "But I still worry." He smirked. "And it's no point telling me not to."

"I'm holdin' on," Ironhide replied. "Ain't better, ain't worse."

"That's something, at least."

Quiet descended again while they finished their cubes.

"So Elita was there, huh?"

"Yup." Ironhide dispersed the cube. "She loves him. So he says."

"And he loves her." Ratchet sighed. "It's clear as day."

"He does," Ironhide confirmed.

Ratchet looked at him again. "And you love him."

"Yup. It's an epic mess." Ironhide frowned. "And don't go sayin' that too loud."

"Blaster cleared the room." Ratchet's voice was soft. "No one will hear." But he let it go.

After a moment, Ironhide chuckled. It was as much an attempt to lighten the mood and change the subject as an actual expression of mirth, but he knew Ratchet would let it go. "Prime said Elita wants ta set me up with Chromia."

Ratchet snorted a laugh. "Primus! That would be a disaster."

"I know. I tried ta say that, too. But he's too infatuated with the idea of match-makin' to actually listen." He shook his head wryly. "Remember when he tried ta get ya ta relax by arrangin' that date with Wheeljack?"

Ratchet laughed. "I'd have paid good credits to see the look on his face when he realized that he hadn't been as sneaky as he thought."

"And that you two already knew each other," Ironhide agreed. "Jazz showed me an image capture. He wouldn't stop chortlin' fer two whole days."

"Jackie and I had fun that night, though." Ratchet leaned back into the seat. "But dating him would have been like dating you."

"Yeah, I can't imagine that either." Ironhide grinned. "While we're on that topic. How're the twins?"

"The twins?" Ratchet smirked. "Those young, dainty things? I don't know, why don't you tell me?"

"Not them." Ironhide smiled and shook his head at what had to be a deliberate misunderstanding. "The other pair. Our two. The trouble-makers."

"You mean Sideswipe and Sunstreaker?" Ratchet frowned. "I don't know, you saw them last, didn't you? Weren't they supposed to have this shift?"

"Ya're right, they are. And I did."

Ratchet kept frowning, but Ironhide let it lie. It was kind of good to know that the Prime wasn't the only blind one on base. It made Ironhide feel a tiny bit better.

He sighed and stood. "Thanks fer this, Ratch. But I need ta move. I have time booked on the shootin' range."

Ratchet waved him off. "Go. Blow something up. Primus knows it's how you warriors cope. I'm on third shift, so I'll take a nap right here." He twisted to lie flat on the couch. "Good luck on the range."

"Pleasant recharge, old mech," Ironhide teased.

"Who're you calling old, you decrepit pile of rust," Ratchet grumbled good-naturedly. "Turn down the lights on your way out, will you?"

"Sure." And I'll make sure ta tell the next responsible bot I meet that ya're in here and need ta be woken up in time for yer shift.

Ironhide raised the rifle, aimed, fired. Moved on to the next target, aimed, fired, then moved on again.

It was cathartic.

"So what's got you all upset?"

Ironhide frowned as he shifted his aim. "I ain't upset."

Kup snorted. "Sure you're not."

Aim, fire, move on to the next target. "I ain't. It's just target practice."

"Sure it is. Lad, I ain't never seen anyone shoot like that unless they were majorly pissed at someone or something. So spill. What's riding you?"

Fire, fire, fire, and the triplicate target was down as well. "Nothin'."

Kup didn't say anything. He just waited. Ironhide reckoned the old warrior had enough practice with that to outwait Primus himself.

And, predictably, Ironhide caved first.

"We're at war. Ain't that enough for some aggressive shootin'?"

"For some," Kup allowed. "For Cliffjumper. The twins. Prowl. Not for you, I don't think. Not this time." He grinned around his cygar. "You're shooting like it's personal."

Ironhide sighed and lowered the rifle. "Well, maybe I'm just angry with myself."

"That so?" Kup mused. He walked over to the control panel. "Then I figure you need the Prime's run."

"The Prime's run?" Ironhide watched as all the targets reconfigured.

"The Prime's run," Kup confirmed. "Start with Reflector over there, then work yourself up through the ranks by order of nasty."

In front of Ironhide, the targets settled. Starscream and his trine were darting above him, solid light forms surprisingly lifelike. Soundwave and his pit-spawn were everywhere. Shockwave was hovering in the back, and Megatron was in the center, roaring.

It was quite the impressive who's who of Decepticon command.

"Prime would never do this one." Ironhide was absolutely certain of that. The Prime was an effective warrior, but he wasn't vindictive. He would never use his enemies' images as target practice.

"Not him, no," Kup agreed. "Sideswipe coined it. We keep adding targets whenever Optimus takes someone important down single-handedly on the battlefield."

Ironhide chuckled at that. His Prime was a formidable warrior. It was enough to warm a spark.

"Then there shoulda been three Megatrons at least, and most of the others should be there twice or more. But I'll take what I can get."

He raised his rifle again, choosing target after target. For all that it looked impressive, the targets weren't harder to take down.

He saved Megatron for last and took him out with his cannons just for the fun of it.

"Not bad," Kup praised. "I've seen better, but not bad at all."

"I ain't a sniper," Ironhide said, putting the rifle back.

"No, you're not. You're a warrior." Kup gave him an assessing look. "I'll say our Prime is in good hands."

"That's the idea." Elita's hands, though, not mine. I'm just the shield.

"I also think he doesn't know what he's got in you," Kup said shrewdly.

"He's got a loyal guard," Ironhide replied, taking care to keep his tone neutral. "Someone who'll step between him and danger when it's necessary."

"Yeah, I figure that's about what he thinks," Kup agreed. "But that's not all."

"Ya see much for an ancient pile of rust," Ironhide retorted, more resigned than truly angry. He was too tired to be upset.

Plus, Kup was a friend. He asked because he cared.

"Watch who you're calling rusty, you worn out pile of slagged ammo," Kup shot back, grinning.

Well. Somewhere deep down, he cared. Probably.

"Anyway, it doesn't matter," he sighed. "It ain't like it's gonna change anything."

"Do you know that?" Kup's look was penetrating.

"I work closer with him than most. I know." Ironhide turned the solid light generators off. "He's asked Elita to bond with him."

"Mecha change their minds."

"Not that much." Ironhide walked past his old mentor and headed for the door.

"Might."

Ironhide stopped, but didn't turn back. "Ya've been around too long to believe that, Kup. Ya know that not everyone gets a happy endin'."

"That's as may be." Kup didn't look too happy about agreeing with him, though. "So what are you going to do?"

"Nothing. There's nothing I can do that doesn't end bad." He half-turned, leaned against the wall. "Ain't gonna say anything that'll hurt him. And this will."

"You know him better than me."

"I know him better than most."

"Yeah. Guess you do." Kup walked up, reached to pat his shoulder. "If it gets to be too much, get out of there. There's no shame in self-preservation." Sharp blue optics met Ironhide's. "Give me a call if you need an out. I can always find somewhere for you."

"I know. I appreciate it." He straightened away from the touch. "Thanks."

He was already walking away, only barely catching Kup's reply before the door closed behind him.

"Sure thing, lad."

Recharge would be the next logical step, but he already knew it wouldn't work. He had too many thoughts running rampant in his processor.

::Sideswipe.::

::Sir?::

::Sit rep.::

::It's quiet, sir. He's in recharge.::

::Good. Hope it stays that way. Ironhide out.::

Slag.

The shooting had helped, but then Kup had ruined everything again. And now it was too late in the shift, so there was no one for him to spar with either. And he couldn't afford to keep going back to the other set of twins – not just because of the credits, but because they were getting attached.

Also, whenever he was with them, they felt sort of wrong. Too short, too slight, too gentle.

Not that he was ever going to get to curl up with the frame he wanted - the frame that was bigger than his, with that gentle field that always pulsed warmly at him, with those strong arms sheltering him.

He might as well give that up right now.

His berth was too large, leaving too much room for tossing and turning. He managed most nights, but he knew he couldn't manage tonight.

And Ratchet was on shift.

There was only one thing for it. He changed direction, heading for the monitor room.

The two 'Bots inside both looked up when he arrived. Smokescreen grinned at him. "Hey, Ironhide. What brings you here?"

"Figured I'd give one of ya two lucky slaggers the shift off," Ironhide grunted. "So whattaya say? You want off, Smokey? Or should I let Hound off?"

The Praxian glanced at his compatriot with an easy smile. "Let Hound off. Mirage just got back from a mission."

"Say no more." Ironhide walked over and poked the green scout in the shoulder. "Move it, Hound. Get outta here."

The smile he got in return was pure gratitude. "Thanks, sir."

"Don't mention it. Now, don't ya got someone waiting fer ya?"

Hound just grinned and saluted before walking out.

Ironhide settled in the vacant chair. He could feel Smokescreen glancing at him.

Kid was way too observant.

"Optics on the screen, soldier."

"Yes sir."

The silence had barely settled before his comm rang.

::Ratch. How's your shift?::

::Oh, fine. If you overwork yourself, I'll have you carted here and put into stasis, then magnetize you to the ceiling.::

::I'm fine. Can't recharge tonight, figured it was better ta be workin' than tossin' and turnin' all night.::

A sharp sigh. ::Fine. But you will recharge through first shift tomorrow.::

Yeah, they'd have to see about that.

::Pleasant shift, Ratchet.::

Another sigh. ::You too, 'Hide. You too.::

He disconnected and settled back down to watch the monitors.

There was not much else to do.