A/N: I would like to take this chance to brag about/sing the praises of the absolutely fantastic Noctaval on LJ/waxburden on dA, who did an incredible piece of fanart for this monster of a fic, of the scene in chapter 5 where Ironhide tries to comfort Will. Since FFNet doesn't like internet addresses much, the link can be found on my profile. Thank you so, so much again! It's awesome and amazing and fantastic and it's so my new wallpaper for my laptop :D
Ironhide came out of recharge in free-fall. The world was spinning, his fuel tanks churning, processors dizzy and rattled and confused, and it took him until his fingers dug marks into the berth below him that he realised he was on solid ground and the world wasn't spinning and intakes vented roughly as systems that had been kicked into instant overdrive tried to calm again.
Slag.
The feeling lessened slightly and his processors cleared enough from their instinctive responses to actually think and a moment later the dark mech snarled and pushed back on the bond that had caused it all.
Lennox!
Shock, surprise, then guilt, and then the feelings and the unnerving sensation of falling faded and was gone as the bond was shielded again. Ironhide bit back a snarl and got to his feet an instant later, stomping out of the room and heading for one of the main hangars in the hazy light of approaching dawn. A quick brush of his bond with Ratchet revealed the medic already up and moving – and not surprisingly, present in the same hangar Ironhide was aiming for – and Ironhide's massive build was just a bit more intimidating than it had to be when he stalked inside and startled several soldiers by the door.
"How long has he been up there?" Ironhide demanded as he reached Ratchet by the massive screens, earning a brief glance from the medic before blue optics focused on the displays again. The human technicians were more aware of him, several of them trying to get a better look at him without being too obvious about it but Ironhide ignored it, used to the reaction. His time was spent with fellow Autobots and the human front line teams, not the scientists or support crews.
"About half an Earth-hour," Ratchet responded and Ironhide knew him well enough to hear that carefully hidden amusement in the words. "Why? Did he wake you up?"
Ironhide barely bit back the snarl that wanted to get out – Primus, but he hated to get pulled out of recharge that early with no warning – and forced himself to watch the screen instead and bite out an almost-civilized response. "You fragging well know he did." Another moment, flexing powerful hands, and his anger drained a lot faster as he actually looked at the screens instead of just glaring at them, one steadily-rising number drawing his attention. "Ninety-nine miles up," he said as the meaning of the numbers finally registered in his processors and watched as two digits became three a moment later.
"One hundred," Ratchet confirmed, glancing at another readout that made little sense to Ironhide. "Not all of it straight up, either. He stopped to play on the way."
That memory of churning fuel tanks again and Ironhide forcibly banished that thought from his processors before the dizziness could set in again. "Free-fall," he guessed.
A nod from Ratchet and frag it if the slagger didn't sound amused again. "I'm sure it was an educational experience." He paused and his voice was marginally more sympathetic when he continued. "He'll learn to shield eventually. Until then, there is little you can go but remind him and bear it when his control slips. He's a Seeker, Ironhide. The sky is his element."
One hundred and two miles, and one of the human technicians frowned slightly and turned to Ratchet.
"How much further does he intend to go, sir? He just reached low Earth orbit. If he intends to continue like this, we'll have to start keeping an eye on more than just planes and weather balloons. There's a lot of space junk up there... and a lot of satellites. I know they're just going to file away any photos of him as classified, but he can still hit one on accident."
Ratchet didn't even pause, Ironhide forgotten – or more likely ignored – for the moment. "Track and warn for anything larger than fifty centimetres across. At the speed they are travelling with, a collision with one of that size would be critical if it struck at a vulnerable point. Add an additional warning for anything between thirty and fifty centimetres."
"Got it," the technician responded and keyed something. "Autobot Seeker, be aware that you're now in low Earth orbit and approaching the beginnings of the space debris field. Transmitting tracking program. Be aware of warnings of potential collisions."
The short series of chirps and whirrs of an automatic response was all the acknowledgement they got, and Ironhide frowned slightly as his own processors reminded him of something.
"How's 'Con activity in the area?"
Long way down if something went to the Pit, and 'Con Seekers were notoriously tricky little frags to deal with, Skywarp's lack of accuracy when teleporting long distances be damned, and Ironhide didn't for a second doubt that the day that winged pest of a 'Con got it right would be when it really counted. An update on the situation followed in shape of a data-burst from the medic and Ironhide took a look at it even as Ratchet answered and interrupted his broody thoughts.
"Nothing close enough to be a problem. That far up, they can contact him, but he's not going to listen."
"You sound sure of that," Ironhide commented and watched as the numbers on one screen climbed to one hundred and eight miles straight above and then the course seemed to even out a bit as the numbers slowed their steady climb.
"You heard his response," Ratchet replied and flipped through a series of read-outs on another screen, too fast for Ironhide to keep track of. "I told you, Ironhide. He's a Seeker. The sky is his realm and this is his first chance to fly without a leash on. Right now, even Starscream wouldn't be able to draw his attention."
Ironhide nodded, not really convinced but realistic enough to know that even if it hadn't been the case, there wasn't much they could do to get him down, even if they wanted to.
The altitude reached one hundred and ten miles and stopped its steady count in favour of more erratic movement – one-nine, one-eight, one-nine as the Seeker it tracked stopped to stretch its wings properly again, and Ironhide wasn't going to admit that he was more than a bit relieved that Will still kept his shields up without being reminded a second time that morning.
The human technicians kept as close an eye on the screens as Ratchet did and Ironhide's attention turned to the other mech again as he reached out through their bond.
How's he doing? he asked silently, the feeling of a worried frown seeping through the words across the connection.
A glance in his direction and then Ratchet was watching the screens again, his response as silent as Ironhide's had been. He recharged for two hours by his own admission. He's trying to get rid of his energy build-up. A snort. At least he had the common sense to comm me before he took off.
Two hours was a lot less than Ironhide had preferred to hear, but he wasn't stupid enough to ask. Ratchet knew their Seeker was up there and he wouldn't have let Lennox take off if there had been a problem. He'd seen their medic boss Optimus Prime around with enough authority that he could probably have made Megatron bend over and take it, and Lennox wouldn't be up there if there'd been a medical reason to ground him.
Is it going to work? he finally asked instead, genuinely curious as well, and Ratchet's response came without hesitation and with no small bit of annoyance.
No. It's a different kind of energy. He's going to exhaust himself before he does anything more than get rid of the worst of it... as he should already be aware, given that he has tried that method once already.
A pause as Ironhide considered that. It was the first time he had really been around a Seeker and the whole thing, he suspected, was almost as educational for him as for the Seeker in question.
Did you tell him that?
Flatly. Yes.
And Lennox obviously hadn't listened. Someone was in for an aft-kicking when they landed again, Ironhide was familiar enough with Ratchet's tone and emotions from painful experience to know that, and he let a whisper of amusement flow through their bond in response.
I arranged some lessons from Sideswipe for him today.
Another pause, this time as Ratchet considered the words, and some of the annoyance faded, pushed aside by a thoughtful feeling with an undercurrent of a distinct smirk that told Ironhide that their wayward little Seeker had probably not been entirely graceful about dismissing Ratchet's advice, either.
That should be... educational. I will observe, of course. Medical reasons. Sideswipe can be enthusiastic in his duty.
So that's what they call it these days, Ironhide snorted. It might beat some sense into him. Take down the Seeker-ego a little. I'm going to test his weapons tomorrow and see what we have to work with. Looks like he scanned the basics of the weapons from the human jet as well, so we can work with what the humans use. I'll see if I can rig something with a little more punch for him than those missiles, too.
Ratchet nodded and it didn't take their bond for Ironhide to realise that his attention was back on the screens and their Seeker, read-outs scrolling across in lines at a steady pace. Still that annoyance in his stance, though, and Ironhide snorted softly and reached out through the still-tentative bond with the Seeker, only slowly lowering his mental shields when he was sure he wasn't going to be treated to another involuntary fall like the one that had woken him up.
Curiosity from his formerly-human friend, joy and the thrill of the flight, but still with attention spared for Ironhide, and he spoke before either of the two personalities stuck in that Seeker body could ask.
For a supposedly smart mech, you sure are stupid sometimes, Lennox, he drawled silently and didn't need to elaborate as a quick glimpse of an annoyed Ratchet passed through from the less-experienced end of the bond.
Embarrassment was at the top of the complex set of emotions that followed in response, a flicker of apprehension that showed Ironhide that their new Cybertronian comrade hadn't lost his common sense completely; restlessness beneath that and an all-consuming feeling of guilt that hit Ironhide's processors with the force of Megatron's cannon, and he forcibly pulled himself away from it and felt Will regain control of it all, letting only a murmur of forced calm flow through his shields.
Sorry. It sounded genuine and Ironhide's only response was lowering his mental shields enough to offer Lennox silent comfort in return. He could understands the guilt, even if he couldn't do anything about it – pulled in a hundred different directions, a hundred things to piece together and fix and with no way to even begin – and so he settled for quiet support instead and Will sighed through the bond. I needed to get away. The walls were... frag it, 'Hide. We're on an island, flat as a slagging pancake, and I got claustrophobic. I know this isn't going to work, I know it only bought me a few days last time and that only because you beat me up until I couldn't get up again, but I had to try. I can think again, at least. That's worth it.
The vague feeling of motion through the bond again, spinning through freezing air at thousands of miles per hour, but not enough that Ironhide tried to block it. A glance at the screens confirmed it, the erratic movements of altitude and position as Will and the Seeker pushed it as far as they could under Ratchet's watchful eye, and then Ironhide shook his head.
Just come down before you run out of Energon and crash. I'm not fishing you out of that death-trap you call an ocean.
A vague feeling of agreement, and Ironhide didn't quite manage to suppress a sigh as he turned his attention to Ratchet again. "We're never getting him down from there again, are we?"
Ratchet snorted. "He is a Seeker. In an ideal world, they would spend more time in the sky than they ever would on the ground."
It had been so much easier before, Ironhide decided, when his human brother in arms had actually been human and capable of taking orders and keeping his mind focused on something other than flying for more than two minutes at a time, and some of it must have echoed over the bond, because Ratchet glanced at him a moment later.
He is not William Lennox anymore, the medic responded silently over their bond. He will never be that person again. He is a Seeker now, with Seeker instincts and programming, and regardless of how much human behaviour he may show at times, he will never be properly human again. Yes, he used to be a soldier and take orders as such. He won't anymore, and the sooner you acknowledge that, the less frustration we will all face.
A second of silence, then two; remembering car washes and strategy lessons and those long first months of worrying about the small human ally he had suddenly been working with, and Ironhide's reply was uncharacteristically quiet.
I know.
Another long moment and then Ironhide forced himself to think of something else and looked at the screen again to watch the altitude and position change erratically with the movements of the Seeker so far above. So maybe Lennox was stuck with a Seeker driven by some very basic programming and showed those issues more than a normal one would have, but if that kind of slag was common for all of them...
"How the frag does Megatron handle those things?"
They had enough problems with one of them, and sure, the 'Cons only had the command trine on Earth at the moment to the best of their intel, but that didn't change the fact that the fragger had handled an entire army of the winged pests when the War had first engulfed the whole of Cybertron. No matter how much Ironhide might hate the fragging 'Con, he still had to wonder just how Megatron had managed to make the damn things follow orders at all.
"He doesn't," Ratchet reminded him, a bit amused. "He has an Air Commander for that."
Silence as Ironhide paused to realise he was actually right, and in what sort of fragged-up world was dealing with Starscream the lesser of two evils?
"Frag," he muttered and felt Ratchet's agreement through their bond as the medic glanced at him.
When he has sufficiently recovered from the lessons with Sideswipe today, I plan to let him interact with Epps. He is not stable yet by any reasonable definition of the term but interacting more with humans might help ground him a bit more, mentally speaking. They were good friends before all of this. It may strengthen the human side of him.
Point taken, and Ironhide paused for another moment. It'll be good for both of them and he's got more common sense than the Witwicky kid does.
Who is none-too-patient about wishing to see him, too, Ratchet pointed out.
Ironhide snorted at that. Him and the rest of this slagging alliance. He'll have to meet the human representatives sooner or later. I know you've been sending Prime regular little reports telling him it's too soon and he's too confused.
The effects of being frozen in the Arctic and then kept imprisoned in stasis in a laboratory, Ratchet pointed out. We needed a cover story, Ironhide. It was as good as any. By the time I run out of excuses, he should be stable enough to pass for a normal Autobot and not draw any uncomfortable questions in the process.
Silence again, watching the steady scroll of information on the screen, trying to look past the symbols to see what the Seeker would see and failing miserably in the process, and he sighed.
Out of all the mech-builds, on all the planets, in all of the universe...
Amusement. … he got this one? I'm pleased to see you develop an interest in human culture. Then, more serious, Be there for him, Ironhide. He will need it.
And as the lines of information continued and the altitude began to rise again, Ironhide could do nothing but watch and wonder what one ground-bound mech could really do to keep a Seeker reined in.