Will had wondered once if Cybertronians dreamt. Did androids dream of electric sheep, and all that. Judging by his first recharge, the answer was a resounding no, and he was more relieved than he cared to admit. The Seeker part of his brain had been entirely too interested in the smell of Ironhide's cannons and the play of sunlight in the curved metal, and he had been honestly worried that going into recharge would mean a whole night of the Cybertronian equivalent of wet dreams.
He wasn't sure he could have looked Ironhide in the optics if that had happened. Him, or Prime, or Ratchet, because being away from Optimus Prime for most of the day had done nothing to keep down the unwanted and very, very graphic images of being pinned by the larger mech and the feel of strong hands playing with his wings as he mewled and arched into the touch and submitted to the demands of his Prime.
At least he could sort of ignore the thoughts and push them aside when he was awake. Enough, at least, to keep from wanting to sink into the ground whenever he saw one of the three.
"Transforming should come natural to you," Ratchet explained where they stood on an old runway, far away from curious eyes and with only Ironhide for company to avoid crowding Will. "Take your time with your first attempts. Don't rush it. You don't want to damage something important."
Will nodded, and whatever curiosity Ratchet felt, he hid it well – and Will damn well knew he was curious. Everyone was – even Sideswipe, distant and reserved that he might be – because Will was a Seeker, and Primus himself had sent him back in that body, and none of them knew what his alt-mode would look like.
The knowledge appeared instinctively, his body moving before he could even think about it, and he was torn between feeling sick at the way his body twisted apart and fascinated by the play of it all as it slid together to create something new, and when it was done, he was a lot closer to ground level and Ironhide let out a soft, admiring sound that would probably have been a whistle if he had been human.
"Cybertronian." He moved closer and put a hand on Will's plating and the sudden surge of energy as they connected was enough to make Will jerk and Ironhide take a step back. He paused, and then he chuckled. "Touchy."
Will shifted uncomfortably and suddenly understood what Ratchet had meant about the necessity of cooling fans, and if Ironhide was giving him a speculating look, Will firmly ignored it.
"Cybertronian jet," Ratchet agreed and moved closer as well, and this time Will got a warning before careful fingers brushed against his wings, and he kept a firm grip on himself and whatever instinctive reaction it was that Ironhide's touch had triggered, although he couldn't quite stop the silent purr that coursed through his systems at the touch.
"Almost a pity we'll have to find him an alt-mode from here," Ironhide murmured. A pause, and then he reached out and brushed his hand against the metal again, and Will still kept a firm grip on his reaction to it. It was easier now that he knew what to expect, but it didn't mean it wasn't annoying to have to keep his reactions on a leash like that.
The Seeker programming in him preened at the obvious admiration, pleased to be confirmed in his attractiveness. The human part very firmly ignored the same, because while he was a guy and part of the military and had most guys' natural appreciation of big machines, said admiration from his allies on the runway definitely went just a bit past casual appreciation.
"Prime is waiting," Ratchet commented in an almost-question, and Will sent his agreement through his communication system. Their Prime was as curious as any of them, but Ratchet had kept him away until they were sure nothing would go wrong and Will wouldn't freak, and now he was waiting with his usual patience somewhere nearby.
His communication system listened in as Ratchet passed on the okay to their Prime – good practice in getting used to his new systems, the medic had said, and Will was grateful. His Seeker programming might know exactly what he was doing but his human mind was still hopelessly overwhelmed.
The Peterbilt appeared at the end of the runway and all three of them waited in silence until it arrived and transformed in one smooth motion, a blur of blue and red as Optimus Prime stood. This time Will knew what was coming, too, and he had the heating fans turned off before they could even start. It did nothing to help on the mental images, of course, but it kept his embarrassment to a minimum and he took his victories where he could get them.
Will felt Optimus Prime's optics move over him, taking in every detail of the graceful body, and then the mech nodded. "It has been a long time since I have last seen a sight like this outside of battle," he said softly, and the hand that touched his wing was gentle and affectionate, less about tracing the smooth curves of the jet shape and more about simple, physical contact. His programming responded immediately, and only Will's firm control of the fans kept the wing from heating up underneath the gentle touch. He couldn't quite stop the energy surge, though, and small electric charges danced under Optimus Prime's fingers until Will ruthlessly reined them in. His Prime, ever polite, said nothing but simply stepped back.
"Can you fly?" he asked. It was aimed at Will but he did send Ratchet a questioning look as well, and the medic shrugged.
"There's no medical reason why he shouldn't be able to."
A look at Will, and his systems answered before he could even consider the question, an affirmative response joined with a brief data-burst for the medic with a quick diagnostic of his systems.
Optimus Prime didn't move for a moment, and if Will had been human he would have held his breath as he waited for the verdict, and then his Prime nodded slowly and the simple gesture released the sudden tension in Will's systems.
"A short attempt, to begin with," he decided. "Can you hover?"
Five tons of Cybertronian jet responded instantly, and the roar of his engines would have been deafening if he had been human. As it was, it was enough to make his onlookers step back under the assault of sound and power, and Will's sensors picked up the distinct sound of tarmac cracking under him as he carefully let go of the ground and hovered twenty feet above the ruined runway. He could have controlled the power in his engines, could have kept it at a far lower level and still hovered just fine, but the sheer thrill of raw power and the roar of it all was intoxicating and Seeker instincts purred in approval.
The sky spread endlessly above him and with it came the knowledge that there were no limits, nowhere he couldn't go, nobody that could outrun him, and he suddenly understood, and every part of his body sang with the knowledge. Seekers didn't have egos, Seekers weren't vain, Seekers simply knew their place on the top of the food chain and acted accordingly, and Will couldn't help it. Seeker programming took over, demanded attention, promised freedom if he would let it loose, and he heard Ratchet's roar even as the thunder of his engines grew louder.
"Rein him in!"
Confusion – rein in, why, he was enjoying it, he was a Seeker, this was who he was – and then something took a painful hold on his left wing and he tumbled and engines cut out in an instinctive precaution and he hit the ruined tarmac hard, an angry screech torn from him, demanding vengeance even as he transformed.
Blazing blue optics met the icy cold of Ironhide's, and Will's instincts faltered for a moment, torn between anger and lust – the mech was strong enough, daring enough, to tear a Seeker out of the sky, and it could be forgiven in the interest of claiming a worthy mate – and then strong hands gripped him and he found himself staring at Optimus Prime instead, strong and dominant and unyielding.
"Stand down, soldier."
The smell of burned tarmac, of jet engines and alien fuel, and Seeker programming faltered again before it yielded and submitted, and Will lowered his head and powered down his engines completely.
Holy slag, the human part of him whispered, and the Seeker parts trembled from the sheer pleasure of it all, and Will suppressed a shudder as he found himself under Optimus Prime's unyielding gaze.
"He's a Seeker, all right." Ironhide, chuckling again, and those same Seeker parts fairly purred at the thought of someone who could pluck a Seeker out of the sky and come out of it able to joke about it, too, and if Ironhide was trying to help, it was really the wrong way to do it.
His Prime sent Ironhide a look, and then turned his attention back to the Seeker in his grasp. "That would be enough for today. We will try again tomorrow. We will know what to expect, then." The 'and hopefully give him time to gain better control of himself' remained unspoken, but Will heard it just fine, anyway, and could have told the mech to spare himself the trouble.
There was Seeker programming you could fight and Seeker programming you couldn't. One brief taste of flight, and he could have told any one of them that his reaction to it belonged in the latter category. He'd fight the constant, nagging instinct to find a good mate, the graphic images, and the bad mood that was sure to come with the lack of 'facing, but this was something else entirely. Flight programming couldn't be fought, and with the thrill of it all still coursing through his system, Will was pretty sure he wouldn't have tried to, either.
Primus had sent him back as a Seeker, and William Lennox intended to fly.
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"He has suffered no injuries from his... test flight," Ratchet reported later that day, in the privacy of Optimus Prime's office. "His paint was scratched from Ironhide's intervention but easily fixed. Beyond that, he is undamaged. Seekers are not as frail as the wings might give the impression of."
Their Prime nodded as he took a look at the full report of the incident, and then he made a soft sound. "He has no experience with his new build," he said, and Ratchet knew him well enough to read between the lines.
Translated, What are we supposed to do with him?
"We can't keep him grounded," Ratchet said, because he had spent quite a while after the morning's display considering just that question. "You expect him to obey orders simply because he is a soldier and you are his commanding officer. That is not the case anymore. There is obviously still human understanding and thought processes in his mind, but his core programming is that of a Seeker, and eventually, he will obey Seeker instincts. Two days, Prime, and it's already taking over. He's trying – for your sake, maybe, or for Ironhide, or his bonded – but the fact remains that he is no longer a human but a Seeker, and his new programming will eventually come out in full force. No one can fight their core programming forever and I will not ask him to try."
Hesitation and a brief flicker of guilt across expressive features – it had been Optimus Prime's orders that had put the human in the targeted building to begin with, and even if none of them could have predicted the attack that followed, he knew their Prime well enough to expect guilt, anyway – and optics flicked to the data-pad for another moment.
"His bonded?" he finally asked. The woman was in one of the old hangars with their new Seeker, and Ratchet had privately been impressed with how she had handled it – for better and for worse, indeed, even if she was technically a widow now, but she seemed willing to fight, and she wasn't alone in that.
"He is a Seeker. He cannot consider her a mate anymore, his very core programming would prevent it, but he considers her kin," Ratchet replied, with the ghost of amusement at the memory. "He crooned at her. It's a sign of strong affection. If she can accept that – and observations would suggest so – the situation may work itself out. He will consider her kin and protect her as such for the rest of his existence. A sibling, perhaps, or a bonded companion, if not an actual mate anymore. If they can accept those roles, it would not be a bad solution. As for their young offspring, we are both familiar with Seeker instincts. You know as well as I do that he will guard her with his life."
Optimus Prime nodded and his relief was obvious. Ratchet had felt about the same when he had realised the situation seemed to work itself out, too. Even putting aside the mental health of their new Seeker and his former mate, their Prime had enough to weigh on him without adding anything more to his burdens.
"Then what is your recommendation?"
Ratchet paused in uncharacteristic hesitation. He knew Seeker programming well enough to make it work for him when needed, but he wasn't sure if his leader would agree with that idea. "He is a Seeker. Let him fly, Optimus. He was meant for the skies. The longer we keep him grounded, the more affected he will be." Optimus Prime looked like he was about to object, but Ratchet continued before he had the chance. "Yes, it may be dangerous. We assume based on the display this morning that he was brought back with the knowledge of how to do it, and with no one around to train him, we have to trust that Primus has taken it all into account. It may be dangerous, but he is still a Seeker, and keeping him grounded is not an option. Rather let him get used to flight in a controlled situation than let him take off on his own."
"Seekers," Prime pointed out, "do not take orders well. You saw that, too. He would have taken off, had we not stopped him."
"Seekers," Ratchet corrected, "take orders if you give them. Command, for Primus' sake! You are our last living Prime. If you give him orders as a soldier because you remember him as such, Seeker instincts will fight because they do not take orders obviously meant for mere mortals. Command, Prime, and he will obey. Seekers obey a strong trine leader without question. He will do the same if you show that strength." A pause, almost amused. "Even Starscream, who considers himself a god in the sky – and with good reason, we all know that – will obey Megatron in the end. He will plot and scheme and turn on him in an instant if he sees the chance but in the end, he yields in his presence. When Megatron commands strongly enough, even Starscream obeys."
"I am not Megatron," their Prime said quietly, almost unsettled by the idea, and Ratchet nodded.
"You are not, nor will you need to be. Megatron commands a trine leader who does not want to obey him – and not just any trine leader, but quite possibly one of the best to ever have claimed the skies of Cybertron. Will may be a Seeker but he still respects you and still considers you his superior. You are right that you are not Megatron, nor is William much like Starscream. Will wants to follow you. If you command him as a Seeker, he will obey. That, too, is in his programming."
Their Prime still looked vaguely unsettled by the whole idea, but he didn't object, and for now, that was good enough for Ratchet.
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One recharge later, and Will was already going stir crazy. Part of it, he knew, was the fact that he had gotten a taste of flight, just enough to let him know just how much he had been missing, and then been told to stand down and keep his aft on the ground. The other and no less important part was the fact that while they had told him they would continue the following morning, Will wasn't going to believe it until he saw it.
Optimus Prime had not been happy. Seeker programming was snarling at that – he was a Seeker, flight was what he did, pathetic, jealous ground-pounders – but his human mind understood and even regretted it to some extent. Not the flight itself, but the fact that he had little chance or desire to keep his flight programming under control and that by extension, odds were that he would defy his orders again. If they stuck to simply letting him hover in the air like a sparkling, he seriously doubted there was anything he could do to just keep from taking off. Ironhide had stopped him once, but he had been distracted by the sheer thrill of it all at the time and hadn't really been paying attention. Bringing him out of the air when he was simply hovering was one thing. Doing so when he was in actual flight would be something else entirely, and Will really didn't want to hurt Ironhide on accident if the mech felt forced to do it again.
This morning, it was the same old, out-of-sight runway he had ruined in his first attempt, but it wasn't just Ratchet and Ironhide and Optimus Prime around. Two fire engines nearby and human emergency crews – as if they could do much if he really crashed, Seeker programming snorted – and Will had watched everything silently and not allowed himself to hope, even when he had realised that Diego Garcia air control had been briefed on the situation and would be keeping an eye on the situation.
He remained silent even when Optimus Prime gave him a level look, and he still didn't dare to hope, because his Prime hadn't looked happy about the previous day's attempt at all, and he didn't trust himself not to say anything he would regret.
"You are a Seeker now and I will not keep you grounded, but you are still unfamiliar with your abilities. Therefore, there has been issued a temporary flight restriction in our airspace for the day," Optimus Prime finally stated, and there was an edge to his voice that hadn't been there the day before. "You will not cross outside of Diego Garcia airspace. Your will provide continuous system updates to Ratchet, and the human air control will keep watch over the situation to ensure no aircrafts enter the restricted zone and to warn you if weather conditions turn unfavourable."
The voice left no room for arguments, and Will bowed his head slowly in agreement. Twelve nautical miles in every direction wasn't a lot of room, but it was more than he could ever have hoped for in his current situation, and engines were warming up before he was even aware his processors had given the order.
His Prime hesitated for a moment, and then he took a step back and gestured at the runway that spread out ahead of them. "You may take off when your systems are ready."
He was spoken to as a Seeker, and it was Seeker programming that responded, and he transformed mid-motion without even thinking about it, massive engines igniting with a roar before he hit the ground, and tarmac became a blur under him and was gone an instant later, and then there was nothing but blissful, endless sky. Seekers weren't planes, Seekers were Seekers, and Seekers didn't need pre-flight checks, and Energon sang in fuel-lines and circuits as he spun through the air, up turning down turning up and he laughed as his speed picked up faster than any human jet could have done.
He left the sound barrier behind a moment later and kept climbing, and a voice tore through his communication systems, only vaguely familiar to processors already half-gone in the thrill of the flight.
"Lennox!" Ironhide, annoyed and worried and snarly, and Will made another triumphant spin and felt air scream by his wings.
"Twelve nautical miles in every direction, Ironhide," he laughed and kept climbing, and the sound of his purr joined the roar of his engines. "Every direction except up!"
Mach two and his engines sang and still there was no limit, and still he kept climbing because he was a Seeker, and Seeker wings wouldn't melt in the heat of the sun, and his systems kept up the silent data-bursts to Ratchet, all telling the same thing – that their Seeker was fine, that his systems were fine, that he knew what he was doing, because this was what he was born to do and instincts guided him better than conscious thought ever could have.
Ironhide snarled something on the line, and on a whim Will reached out and found a tentative bond between them. Ironhide's doing, he knew, from when Will had been human; a way to keep track of a small, vulnerable ally in battle, and it was only now, as a Cybertronian with a spark of his own, that he could feel it in return.
Glowing softly in his mind, vague warmth joining the heat from the Energon that pumped through his body, and Seeker programming reached out and completed the bond that the mech probably wasn't even aware was there, and it was confirmed an instant later as surprise and confusion flooded the bond.
So close to Mach three, and finally he found the limits of his new body but the brief, angry disappointment was gone again a second later, lost in the sheer thrill of endless sky and feeling the temperature rise again around him as freezing, thin air slowly warmed again, and the sky above him slowly darkened.
Fly with me, old one, he purred, and floodgates opened and sent waves of flight-borne ecstasy through their bond.
Speed, joy, freedom, air against strong wings, unchallenged supremacy and dominance, and he raked mental fingers through Ironhide's circuits, images of merged sparks and the overwhelming heat of their joined overload scorching against the still-rising temperature around him, and then the last bits of coherent thought vanished as Ironhide reached back and the world exploded.
Engines screamed as heat flooded back, frustration and pride and white-hot demand burning through his every circuit as Ironhide returned the favour and reclaimed control, and the purr that followed was dark and low.
Clever little Seeker.
Energy danced across his wings, his weapons, left scorching marks that turned freezing an instant later, and he shuddered as his far more experienced partner sent images through the bond, promised retribution and pleasure to rival his rush of flight, but it was not enough, never enough, and Ironhide clearly knew it as a chuckle followed, and the Seeker screamed its frustration to the stars above.
Get your aft on the ground again before Optimus paces a hole in the runway, Ironhide purred. And maybe we'll continue this later.
Hesitation – flight, Ironhide, speed, pleasure, freedom – and then he cut the engines and let himself drop in freefall as he turned. Still-hot engines kicked back in a moment later with a shattering roar and the endless blue and white of sea and clouds spun closer in breathtaking speeds and he laughed at Ironhide's sharp gasp as he fed every last emotion through their bond.
Straight down, a dark silver blade that cut through the sky, and clouds came closer and the world turned white, dark, humid; wings and turbulence drawing patterns behind him, and Ironhide's voice cut through his lust-addled processors.
"You're going too fast, Lennox. Pull up." Almost amused, but still an order, still unyielding, and it wasn't his Prime, but it was Ironhide and Seeker programming hesitated.
Six thousand feet and he was out of the clouds again, ground screaming closer, and he spun, turned sharply, and powerful engines roared and then calmed as he relented and slowed and traced the outer limit of Diego Garcia's airspace in a lazy corkscrew pattern, slowing and watching with silent fascination as the island below him grew bigger, more detailed, and he could make out the distant runway they had chosen for him.
Not much faster than a human aircraft approaching for landing, instincts objecting to the pathetically slow pace, but Will ignored it all and took in the green and white and grey of the narrow island instead.
His Prime would not be pleased, and Ratchet would probably lecture him, but at that moment, he couldn't bring himself to care. The steady beat of lazy swirls of heat remained in the still-tentative bond with Ironhide, and as the runway came into view, that was all that mattered.
Three mechs on the runway, fire engines, emergency crews – he had probably rattled the whole base, like a proper Seeker should – and optics focused on the black shape that watched him approach, the play of sunlight on gleaming metal and the relaxed stance that betrayed nothing but what he wanted to show.
And through their bond, the Seeker purred.