I'm pretty sure 'I'm Yours' is reaching its end very soon, as a warning. Thank you all so much for staying with this story! I hope you enjoy.
Slowly, the dull ceiling of Medbay came into focus and Ironhide idly wondered how and when he had gotten there. The last thing he could remember was the bright battlefield and the barrel of a gun being shoved into his face.
"What were you thinking?" a voice suddenly snapped, making Ironhide jump quite badly. He struggled to sit up, only for Ratchet to come into view and push him down. He cried out in pain and froze, letting the pain fade. So that was what had happened, Ironhide realized. The flash of a barrel had been when he had gotten injured, and the others had brought him back. Now he had to deal with a mad medic.
"What?" he questioned softly. He turned his helm so he could see Ratchet who retook his seat on the berth beside Ironhide's.
"Don't play dumb. I got the recap from the other mechs that ended up in my care. You're a glitch, you know that? Prime's got enough to deal with without wondering how the slag you'll get yourself killed, you aft!" Ratchet roared, obviously quite fine without disturbing his other patients. Ironhide looked around and realized the room was a small one and empty besides them.
"Where is he?"
"Heavily sedated in another room. Bumblebee is with him," he replied coolly. "I had to. Jazz said he was lost in his memories before being distressed. Then he got the news you did something stupid and couldn't handle it. You know unstable he can be right now. We're supposed to try to help him, not try to get ourselves killed, Ironhide. He's still the mech we raised."
"I know Ratch'. I'm tryin'."
"Yes, you are very trying," Ratchet hissed. Ironhide rolled his optics. "Ironhide, please. Try to be careful. If not because I'm tired of patching you up, then for him."
"Lay off," Ironhide sat up slowly and climbed to his pedes, making Ratchet stand and rush to his side. He brushed off the medic's help, too angry to admit that he needed it. His helm was pounding, as was a dent on the side of his face, and his chest was half torn up and the repairs hadn't had enough time to set yet. "Which room is Prime in?"
"The first one on the right," Ratchet replied quietly, uneasy. He didn't move as Ironhide went to see to Optimus. He just sighed and moved off to finish the reports he had been working on before Ironhide had woken up.
Bumblebee whimpered where he was tucked against his sire's side. Tears were already slipping down his face from not getting a response from Optimus.
"Sire," he whined. He rubbed his helm against Optimus' chest, his cries growing as he found his sire wouldn't wake up. He jumped when the door opened and started to wail instead since he was feeling so scared.
"Shush, 'Bee, it's just me," Ironhide said softly, slowly moving over to where the two other mechs were. He gently picked Bumblebee up and held him close, trying to comfort the little one. Bumblebee panicked, reaching desperately for his sire. "Easy 'Bee. Calm down. He's alright, just in statis."
"Sire!" Bumblebee cried. He only started to calm down when Ironhide stroked his helm gently.
"Is fine… He's okay 'Bee," he whispered. He took a seat beside Optimus' limp form and watched in surprise as Optimus' optics slowly flickered to life. "Orion, can ya hear me?"
"I can…" he slurred a moment later. He sat up and looked at Ironhide with joyful but tired optics. He was unsurprised when Ironhide gently hugged him for only a second.
"You're not supposed to be up yet," Ironhide said. Optimus chuckled and took Bumblebee back.
"You weren't supposed to be back yet."
"I didn't expect to get my helm bashed in or chest torn up. All according to plan, right?"
"'Hide, you worried me. There's something we need to discuss."
"What?"
"I want you to take Bumblebee," he said. Ironhide stared in utter disbelief. Not once had Optimus actually suggested that someone else take Bumblebee from him to care for. He had always tried to keep Bumblebee with him. But the fact that he had to be sedated was proof to Optimus that he couldn't manage it anymore. Ironhide just hadn't expected that.
"Why?"
"He's safe with you. You'll keep him away from Megatron and the Decepticons. And it will give you a reason to be careful. I warned you. I'm not fit to raise a sparkling. I can't do this anymore. I don't want anything to happen to Bumblebee. He's all I have left…"
"I won't take your sparkling from you. I already did my part in raising you."
"Which is why I trust you. Please, Ironhide," Optimus said. The other mech sighed and looked away, reluctant to agree. He didn't look at his Prime, afraid that once he looked into Optimus' optics he would cave instantly.
"If I take 'im, you're just gonna bury yourself in work. That's not gonna make Elita come back," he said. Optimus' free servo clenched into a fist as he forced back every image the name brought up. "I'm not raisin' 'im ta think I'm his sire. You're still his sire."
"I know," Optimus replied. He offered Bumblebee to Ironhide, and the older very reluctantly took the sparkling. Bumblebee cried out, reaching for Optimus again. The Prime stroked his son's helm with the care of a sire, smiling sadly. "Dearest Bumblebee… I hope you grow up to be a strong mech one jour. Thank you, Ironhide. I'll talk to you later." Optimus left without another word.
Ironhide stood after a moment, cradling Bumblebee close to his spark. He shook his helm and slowly left Ratchet's Medbay and headed home, aching both physically and emotionally. Optimus' words were yet another scar on his weary spark, and now he had a sparkling to take care of as well. He knew it hadn't taken very much prodding, but that was simply because of the fact he knew Optimus was right. All Ironhide could hope was that Optimus didn't actually lose himself to his work.
A soft whine dragged his attention back to Bumblebee, and he went back to stroking Bumblebee's helm gently. The sparkling burrowed into the warm armour of his new guardian. He was less than a vorn old, and yet he was already being touched by the war. He was yet another victim in a long line of victims touched by the war between brothers. He just happened to be caught between the two.