A/N: Happy New Year to all you wonderful readers! Thank you for hanging in there, even if the M-rating is slow in showing itself *cough* Also, since I don't think I've mentioned it here, but only in a few review responses – suggestions are always welcome! I don't bite unless someone bites me first ;)
Two days later and Ironhide had gone through a range of emotions he didn't even know he had anymore. From worried to relieved to annoyed to confused to suspicious and finally to frustrated as he decided to frag common sense and corner Ratchet in the infirmary for some answers. Of course, cornering Ratchet in the medic's own domain was much like an average unarmed organic trying to corner Megatron, but Ironhide was frustrated enough to be willing to work with that, too.
Predictably, Ratchet looked neither particularly impressed nor particularly cornered as he crossed his arms and levelled a look at Ironhide, and if Ironhide hadn't been so frustrated, he would have taken it as his cue to get his aft out of there. As it was, he didn't.
"And to what do I owe the pleasure?" Ratchet drawled. "Did you finally manage to scramble your processors for good or have you simply spent so much time here that your have forgotten where your own quarters are?"
Ironhide snorted but didn't rise to the bait – long-term Ratchet exposure did have some benefits, after all – and instead he crossed arms as well, mirroring the medic's stubborn look.
"You're the expert on those fraggers. What in the Pit is wrong with him?"
Ratchet paused and then the glow of his optics intensified for a moment in understanding and Ironhide wasn't at all comfortable with the sudden amusement in the medic's features, either.
"I assume you are referring to our resident Seeker?" It wasn't really a question but Ironhide nodded, anyway, and Ratchet continued. "And what would be the problem? He's been exceptionally well behaved since his... training session with Optimus. He has spent time with his human bonded, his temper is under control, he recharges almost sufficiently for his build again, and he has begun to spend time around his human former team-mates. I hardly see a problem in that."
Judging by Ratchet's amusement, that last part was a flat-out lie and he knew very well just what the problem was and intended to make Ironhide own up to it, anyway. Payback for something Ironhide may or may not have done to him at some point and long since forgotten about, or maybe just being his usual sadistic self, and Ironhide bit back a frustrated sound before he ended up providing any more amusement for the medic.
"He only shows up for training lessons with me," he stated flatly, and he could have sworn he felt Ratchet smirk over their bond before it was quickly shielded again.
"Why, that's wonderful, Ironhide," Ratchet responded with the artificial sweetness of those carbonated poison beverages the younger humans liked to ingest. "I'm pleased to hear that he keeps up those lessons. It really shows he is trying – no normal Seeker would have put up with that, you know. I'm pleased that you have chosen to share this breakthrough with me, truly, I am, but far be it from me to keep you occupied with minor things like this when I am certain you have much more important things to do."
This time, Ironhide couldn't keep the annoyance out of his voice, a frustrated snarl making his feelings clear even before he answered. "Stop yanking my chain, medic. He only shows up for those lessons. I see nothing of him outside of that. When I approach him, he takes off or find something else to do, and when I attempt to use that bond to get an answer out of him, he shields it!"
There was a definite feeling of smugness over their bond at that and then the artificial sweetness came back in full force as their resident sadist clearly enjoyed every moment of Ironhide's discomfort.
"He's learning to shield, then. Why, this is wonderful news, indeed, Ironhide, and I'm honoured you chose to share this breakthrough with me. I do-"
"Ratchet!"
The flare of anger through their bond wasn't something Ratchet could have missed and the medic paused and sent Ironhide an amused expression and when he spoke again, it was in his normal voice, calm and collected and utterly unimpressed.
"He is punishing you, Ironhide. Or rather, that Seeker part is. For the moment, you are its chosen future mate and you refused to give it Sideswipe when it felt revenge was rightfully its to claim," he drawled. "It is much like a spoiled sparkling in that regard. How often do you honestly think a Seeker would be told no by a mate or someone it courted if there was something it truly wanted? It will tolerate myself or Optimus doing so but in your case, I would assume it intends to ignore you until you make it up to it or it gets distracted by something sufficiently... shiny, as the humans would put it. It is reminding you that there are other choices of mates out there and that it is in your own best interest to remember that and act accordingly."
It was silent as Ironhide simply stared at him for a long moment.
"He is... punishing me," he repeated in a suspicious voice, not actually sure if this was just another display of their medic's warped sense of humour, and if it wasn't, how the Pit he was supposed to react to it, then.
"Yes. Major Lennox is military but the Seeker isn't and that requires some compromises to be made," Ratchet responded and answered the question Ironhide hadn't even voiced. "They are slowly but surely learning to get along and the last few days' display around you has been intended mostly to remind you of, in its mind, the honour it is bestowing upon you by showing interest in a mere ground-pounder. Clumsily, granted, because it is still only core programming at work, but those are the principles of it. I doubt the human side is even completely aware of why they are doing this." A pause and then more amusement as Ratchet seemed to realise something else. "It's proof of the seriousness of its interest, too, for what it is worth. It would not have bothered if it did not see you as a serious option for a mate."
There was another long moment of silence after that as Ironhide still couldn't find any better response than simply stare, and Primus, but life had been so much fragging simpler when his human brother in arms had actually been human and if not sane, then at least reasonably predictable to those who knew him.
"Lennox understands and appreciates what you did," Ratchet continued. "This does not change the fact that the Seeker is still displeased with you." A shrug. "Leave it to its own devices, Ironhide. It will come around soon enough. Had we been on Cybertron, some grovelling might have been needed to keep it around, but not here. Out of the very few members of our species on this planet, you are the only realistic option for it. Had we had Seekers still... then yes, it could be a problem, but despite it all, it is an Autobot. The 'Con Seekers have never been a consideration." A pause, relenting. "Well, not a serious one, at least."
Ironhide wasn't sure if the last addition was supposed to make him feel better or not, and it wasn't something he wanted to think about a whole lot, either, and so he changed the subject before he got the dubious pleasure of remembering the graphic fantasies he had gotten from the bond with the human-turned-Seeker.
"How about Prime?" Prime, who'd had the Seeker interested before and had kicked its aft with barely any effort at all, and slag it all, but those fraggers liked it rough-
"Lennox would never agree," Ratchet responded and there was absolutely no doubt or hesitation in his voice. "Yes, the Seeker likes and respects him again and yes, it would undoubtedly be more than pleased if Lennox relented on that point, but he won't. You know him, Ironhide. He would never see Optimus like that, regardless of how much the Seeker may influence him. For that matter, I doubt Optimus would agree, either." A pause, really looking at Ironhide in the way that always made the weapon specialist feel like a lab specimen under a microscope, and then a look of bemusement crossed the medic's features. "Are you jealous, Ironhide?"
And if that wasn't a trap, Ironhide didn't know what was, and he settled for a snort in response before he reluctantly answered a moment later, trying to put it into terms that wouldn't earn him another barrage of sarcasm. "He's a friend. He's got nice wings. I'm attracted to him. We're not 'facing and I know their build would want a slagging harem if they could get away with it. I want to know what I'm dealing with so I don't frag up anything with the human. I know they have the common sense of a malfunctioning combat drone when they're like this and I know I'd beat myself up for the rest of my existence if I did something stupid that made him do something he'd regret. I have to know what I'm dealing with and you're the closest thing to an expert we have, so do your slagging job and help me, medic."
The last bit had been Ironhide's attempt to bait him in return but frustration with the ridiculousness of the whole situation didn't particularly help on his wit, and Ratchet clearly didn't think so, either, since the only reaction he managed to get from the mech in question was another amused look.
"I already told you, Ironhide. You can either go grovel or wait for it to come around on its own accord. Unless you feel like proving your dominance repeatedly in the future, I recommend you settle for the second option. It knows it doesn't have a lot of choices in mates here, and it knows you should know it, too. Grovelling when there is no competition at all for its affection would be a sign of weakness. That is my professional option," he added in a drawl. "Now, unless you are next on the list of medical check-ups, find something else to do. Of course, I'm certain Arcee wouldn't mind waiting if you missed this so much that you showed up early, but..."
Endless time spent in the infirmary having countless injuries patched up by the medic in front of him hadn't been wasted. Ironhide considered his options and an instant later wisely chose a strategic retreat before Ratchet could finish that sentence.
Around the same time, the subject of the discussion found himself enjoying the first actual sunshine in what felt like entirely too long a while. Granted, he could always take off and fly above the cloud cover – and had done that just about daily, too – but a clear, blue sky was still something different.
Air flowed by and caressed the sensor nodes on his wings as he settled for a leisurely Mach two, only a few, random wisps of clouds breaking up the view below him. Diego Garcia was an uneven ring of green and white in the ocean below him, marked by stripes and squares of runways and buildings, and even a nearby visiting aircraft carrier looked like nothing more than a child's toy in a bathtub. He would get up close and personal with that one, he knew, and learn to handle himself on a ship like that when Ratchet deemed him stable enough to try without accidentally destroying something important. Given that he still took off and handed on one of the less-used runways, he couldn't really blame the medic and if he was perfectly honest, he didn't mind, either. Once he got used to dealing with the aircraft carrier he would have to learn to fly with normal human jets, too, and that really wasn't something he looked forward to. The Seeker was predictably unimpressed and Will didn't particularly care for the thought, either. He understood that he might have to fly and fight side by side with them someday but that didn't change the fact that he was faster, lighter, and a lot more agile than those things would ever be and there was really no point in wasting time on something that would only slow him down.
Not that he'd aired that particular point of view to Epps. Able to transform into an F-22 or not, he still didn't feel like spending half an hour listening to the complete list of virtues of fighter jets of the United States Air Force, as told by Robert Epps. The similarities between him and one of said jets were superficial at best and pretty much non-existent after two minutes in the air.
We transform, the Seeker huffed in agreement. We do not lower ourselves to match their pathetic capabilities.
Used to the alien presence in his mind by now, Will didn't even try to argue. It did have a point and arguing would be a waste of energy for both of them. Truce, cooperation, compromise, and the longer he was exposed to that alien presence, the less he minded it, too. Understanding how it thought and was programmed in the first place went a long way in giving him patience with its ego and assorted other issues. It also helped that the training session with their Prime had gotten rid of quite a lot of the short temper and annoyance he had carried around, too. He didn't know how – and when he thought about it, really didn't want to know, either – but it had returned his frustration to a tolerable level and compared to the days leading up to that fight, it was damn well heaven.
Air control was watching him somewhere below, a steady stream of information crossing his processors and being dismissed for the most part, and he completed a wide, lazy turn over the neighbouring islands before he set in the full force of his engines and went straight up. Mach two was good, Mach two was nice, but it wasn't freedom, and nothing could really compare to the roar of engines pushed to their limits; to the vibration of metal and the scream of air as he tore through the sky, and he made a triumphant spin as the Seeker fairly glowed in approval.
He had been grounded for a day by Ratchet due to the injuries from that training session and had stayed close to Diego Garcia the day after that as well to keep his team-mates from frowning too much after the incident with Sideswipe, but now it was sunshine and clear and he was fragging well going to fly, politics and all be damned.
We are not fragile, the Seeker sulked as it still lingered on the insult of being grounded for an entire day, and Will didn't try try to argue with that, either.
I know. He was just worried. He's doing the best he can.
Another impression of silent sulking and then it was swept away as they levelled out and there was nothing but endless ocean and infinitely tiny islands around them for hundreds and hundreds of miles in any direction. There weren't any explicit limits to where he could go but that didn't mean he didn't pick up on the implicit ones. The further away he went, the greater the risk that he would run into the 'Con Seekers with no backup in sight, for one. Another one was the shipping lane that ran south and east of Diego Garcia – while it wouldn't be a problem if he was too far up to be seen, it would be a bad idea at best to play tag with any passing ships in a fit of boredom, which left west and north as the better options if he wanted to stretch his wings.
Intel on this particular day put the 'Con Seeker nowhere within a thousand miles of him and nothing between him and due west but clear skies, and maybe that was why it took him so long to notice; with the roar of engines and the freedom of stretching his wings after endless days kept leashed, and it was only after several long seconds that a flashing icon in his processors managed to get his attention for long enough to be noticed at all.
Small, flashing, and very, very familiar, and he snapped into a barrel roll before he even knew it, letting out sudden shock before it could cloud his processors too much.
Several more seconds passed and the fragging thing kept blinking, and Will shuddered subconsciously even as the Seeker sent the hesitant feeling of question-uncertainty-permission at him.
It's not an Autobot, Will pointed out, even if he knew damn well that wouldn't matter. It doesn't have the right encryption.
It wasn't the same channel as the first time, either, but that didn't mean a thing. Anyone with even the slightest bit of sense changed those channels frequently and while Will didn't like the 'Cons, that didn't mean they were stupid.
That feeling of a question from the Seeker still lingered and Will kept ignoring the insistent little icon and knew just as well that it was a lost fight. They hadn't heard anything from the 'Cons since the battle that had ended so very, very wrong but that didn't mean they weren't planning something. It was Megatron, after all, and NEST had learned painfully that the longer the slaghead stayed silent, the worse the news tended to be when he finally showed up again.
They had looked around, of course, poked where they could and waited to see if something reacted, but the painful truth was that for the moment they had no intel, no clue, and frag it, Starscream wasn't stupid enough to let something slip on accident, but if that was all Will could do right now to help, then he would fragging well do just that.
The icon continued to flash and Will took a moment to focus and try to calm himself before he silently warned the Seeker of his intentions and then resolutely accepted the connection that he had been offered.
"Decepticon Air Commander Starscream to Autobot Seeker Will, negative six-point-seven, seven-zero-point-two. Did the ground-pounders finally let you out to play?"
The voice that greeted him was strong, dominant, almost purring, and every bit as familiar as that icon had been, and Will just as resolutely forced down that instinctive response of respect and submission and – thankfully muted – lust that made him shudder and desperately wish he could scrub the images out of his brain. This time he was prepared, though, and he ruthlessly pushed aside the programmed responses from the Seeker and focused on the actual conversation instead.
"Decepticon Air Commander, this is Autobot Seeker. Don't you have better things to do than make Soundwave watch my aft?" he snapped back, a bit harsher and a lot less calm and collected than he had intended but really, in this case, he would take what he could.
Whatever he had expected in response, the dark laughter that followed wasn't it, and a moment later he wished he had just left the damn icon alone and kept his stupid mouth shut as Starscream continued.
"But it's such a nice one of the kind, Will."
And damn it if he didn't make Will's designation sound like a caress even over the distance of their comm channel and the Seeker reacted with startled pleasure and a sudden surge of renewed lust that Will frantically fought to push aside.
Get a slagging grip on yourself! he snapped to the alien presence in his mind and the relief he felt as the waves of lust waned and died was so strong that he didn't doubt it could be felt by Ironhide all the way back on Diego Garcia, shielding and stubbornness be damned.
"Does that one really work or are the rest of the 'Cons just too cowardly to refuse when you tell them to roll over and beg?" Will bit back and that tar-like feeling of disgust still clung to his mind even as he tried to ignore it by keeping one optic on his surroundings in the – admittedly unlikely – case that he was flying into an ambush.
Another dark laugh, and mercurial moods and all, the Air Commander sounded honestly amused, and that unsettled Will more than he cared to admit. He didn't want the attention of a 'Con. It was bad enough to deal with his own Seeker's graphic fantasies. He didn't need any of the 'Con Seekers to encourage that. Starscream was supposed to snarl and leave in a fit when he didn't get his way. Not play along, and not be amused by it, either.
"Who would turn down a Seeker, Will? We are divine, we are perfection, and we are proof of the wisdom and greatness Primus displayed in creating us. If you have yet to have those pathetic ground-pounders worshipping at your feet, it is no fault of our build. If you deserve your designation in any way, certainly you will have realised that. A Seeker is born to rule, to claim dominance over the worthless, planet-bound creatures and let them reach a moment of the divine in being allowed to attend to us. Or did your Prime neglect to mention those minor facts?"
"That you're a raving megalomaniac with delusions of grandeur?" Will drawled. "Oh, he mentioned that but I think I would have worked it out on my own. But thanks for asking."
He noticed he had effectively managed to stun his own Seeker into silence with that, a shell-shocked mix of disbelief, horror, and the clear impression of the thing doing a more than passable goldfish impression as it struggled for something to say, and it became clear a moment later that Starscream wasn't entirely unaffected, either, as an angry snarl greeted Will in response.
"Your Prime knows nothing of power, Autoscum. No true Seeker would bow to one as weak as that. He can't even rein in his own men. He yields to the fleshlings and prefers to see his own breed killed rather than harm his precious organics. They have a word for that, Seeker – traitor." And as quickly as the anger had arrived it faded again and the voice was low and powerful and seductive again and Will found himself bitterly cursing every slagging bit of programming that let him react to that voice, too, no matter how much he fought it."Lord Megatron wishes nothing more than to see our home rebuilt. Is that not what we all wish? A proper home where we will not have to hide from organics who see us as nothing more than something to be dissected like a scientific experiment and destroyed when our usefulness runs out? Cybertron will rise again and our home will be returned to us. That is Lord Megatron's offer to our kind: a home, freedom, and the respect that is rightfully ours. Your Prime can offer none of those."
And Starscream slagging well knew what he was doing because Will felt his own Seeker instantly respond to the words, a spark-deep longing at the mention of 'home' – the glyph that Will's mind mentally translated to family-safe-origin-belonging – and it took him long, painful moments to push the emotion aside for long enough to even focus on anything else.
This is home, he told the Seeker in his mind. This is where we were born, this is our family, this is where we belong.
A flicker of uncertainty and then the alien presence focused on him again and Will felt a surge of clarity as it gave him its full attention again and he had never been prouder of it than the moment he felt it turn its mental back on Starscream and ignore the Air Commanders presence completely, power, strength, and rank be damned. So maybe they wouldn't get intel out of the 'Con but that didn't mean it had been a complete waste of time.
"Go take a dive in a lava-pit, Starscream," Will snorted and it was all he could do to control his glee as he felt his Seeker half add its silent, fierce agreement. "Earth is home now. This is where we're staying. So thanks, but no thanks."
Judging by the angry hiss that followed, the reply didn't go over well, but Will hadn't expected it, too, either, and he was ready before Starscream even began to reply.
"You will regret this, Autoscum!" that familiar voice hissed, low and grating on his processors like nails on a blackboard as it lost some of the attraction that the Seeker half felt for its counterpart. "We will-"
"-Keep whining until you get your way?" Will drawled and focused on the connection, one mental finger ready to disconnect. "I noticed that, too. Give my regards to the slagger in charge. Goodbye, Starscream."
And with the flicker of a thought the connection died and sure, it was childish and spiteful and pissing off the Decepticon Second in Command was probably on the top ten list of stupid things he had done in his career, but damn it if it didn't feel good.
With a gleeful roar of his engines, he turned sharply and then headed up and east even as he transmitted a copy of the conversation back to Diego Garcia. They would talk about it later, he knew, but for now there was only him and his Seeker and warm, glorious sunshine, and echoing the purr of his alien half, he settled in for some long-needed stretching of his wings. There would be plenty of time to worry later. For now, they had some flying to do.