The first time Will had seen a C-17, he had been amazed it could fly. He had the personal theory that it worked on the same principle as a bumblebee did – that the only reason it could take off at all was because no one had told the pilots that it was technically impossible. Primus-knew-how-many-flights later and he still wasn't entirely convinced that it wasn't all just one giant joke that science had played on them.

That theory only became all the more insistent in his mind whenever he watched their alien allies – which he was technically one of as well now, even if he still wasn't used to the thought – settle into the planes for the flight to wherever the frag the 'Cons had decided to go on a rampage at the given occasion. Logically he knew that something that could carry an M1 Abrams tank would have absolutely no problem with the puny weight offered by something like Ironhide or Ratchet or even Optimus Prime in comparison but somehow the 'Bots just took up a lot more room visually speaking. That, and he still wasn't sure the whole idea had been a good one to begin with. He understood the logic of using an isolated, restricted island for the NEST base and really did appreciate that he had to deal with far fewer 'got spotted by a civilian' incidents than he would have had to otherwise but that didn't stop him from feeling like a sitting duck whenever they took off.

It was an air plane, Primus knew how many thousand feet up, in the middle of the Indian Ocean, and their enemy had Seekers. He knew how many precautions they'd taken, he knew the sort of security those planes had, he knew that the 'Con Seekers stayed away for good reasons but that didn't keep his brain from still feeling like a sitting duck. Might as well paint a bullseye on the slagging things, too, and give the 'Cons a laugh while they were at it.

The fact that he was now a Seeker did absolutely nothing to help on his view of it. If anything, the fact that something that big and clumsy and slow and defenceless carried his mates made him want to twitch. They were mates, they were valuable, they were treasures, and they were his, and that worthless pile of would-be scrap metal had no business being anywhere near said mates, much less being responsible for their very lives and well-being.

Going by Ratchet's amused glance, Will's admittedly rather feeble attempt at hiding the Seeker's displeasure about the whole thing was apparently a bit of a lost cause.

"You have travelled in those machines yourself often enough," the medic pointed out as he helped Will get fitted with weaponry – and holy frag, he had missiles now, and if it wasn't because there was a very real risk he could end up using them against their own side, Will wasn't sure he could have kept from smirking.

As it was, he settled for taking comfort in the slight weight of those missiles; not enough to disturb his flight but still enough to be a comforting reminder that he was no longer defenceless, and that was a comfort he hadn't realised how much he had missed until then.

"I have, and I still think it's a miracle those things can take off at all, never mind what Bobby says."

Ratchet just snorted but that was fine with Will, too. He had heard Sideswipe bitch often enough to know that he wasn't the only one who distrusted the flying tin-tubes, even if Sideswipe's issues were more related to vanity than anything else. Will personally suspected that minor stuff like personal safety and potential offlining came quite a bit further down Sideswipe's list of priorities than an unscratched paint-job and newly-polished swords did but then, the 'Vette had the skills to pull it off, too, and like Pit if Will was going to seriously bitch about the issues of an ally who had the skills in combat that Sideswipe did. Even the Seeker, with its long list of grievances with the 'Vette, could agree with that. Most reluctantly, certainly, but agree nonetheless.

"We can't be everywhere," Ratchet finally pointed out as he finished up the last... whatever he did and tapped Will's arm to let him know he was finished. "They serve their purpose in transporting us. They look more vulnerable than they are."

Doesn't mean I have to like it, Will said mentally and shrugged, before flexing his arms to get used to the added weight of his new ammunition. Ratchet ignored the comment in favour of a pointed look and Will answered the unspoken question.

"All good," he reported and couldn't help the bit of amusement at the Seeker's smugness about it all. Then again, if it hadn't been for the thoughts of Starscream constantly running through his head, Will would have been right there being smug with it. They had missiles. "All good, both of us. Target systems are up and running, and the weight and balance won't be an issue. If anything, it feels a little better than before."

Ratchet just nodded at that and didn't look surprised in the least. "You were meant for carrying weapons. You can function just as well without them but your core programming and your very body were designed with armed conflict in mind. It's simply a matter of the sort of weapons used. In this case, an Earth-based missile design adapted by Ironhide to suit your alt-mode. On Cybertron, it could have been a very different weapon in its place."

Which made sense. You chose your weapons according to the situation when you could and adapted what you had to work with when you couldn't. It might be an Earth-based design – alt-mode and missiles both – but it still felt surprisingly... right. It could just be because he was Earth-based himself but he somehow doubted it and for a brief, insane moment, he was tempted to ask Starscream if he felt at home in an alt-mode designed by fleshlings.

The last adjustments done, Ratchet glanced towards the busy runway and a figure waiting by the side as the anthill that was NEST moved around it, humans and Autobots and machinery in one huge mass of organised chaos.

"Your mate is waiting. I have things to do."

A dismissal if Will had ever heard one – not that he could blame him; the medic probably had just as many nasty thoughts on his mind about Starscream and their situation as Will did – and he nodded in acknowledgement before he turned and left, making his way over to said mate-wife in the middle of the confusion around them. It wasn't hard – people gave him space, not only because they were used to the 'Bots but also because he was still something alien and unsettling, and for once he didn't mind – and he saw her follow his progress until he finally reached her just beyond the side of the tarmac, away from the worst of it all and out of hearing range as well.

Her presence made the Seeker purr contently in his mind. It wasn't a bond like with 'Hide or Ratchet but it was still strong enough to matter and make that alien other half of him respond to it as well. She was a lot harder to pick up on than his two Cybertronian mates were and the range of their connection was limited at best but Will suspected that if given the time and chance to practice, his Seeker half could make that connection a lot stronger. They had created that bond and knew how it felt now and those two things seemed to be the hardest parts over with.

The world was a buzz around them, indistinct voices and the sound of machines and occasionally a word or heavy footsteps that stood out among the rest, but for the most part it was nothing but background noise and easily dismissed as he held down his hand and allowed his mate-wife to make herself comfortable on the impromptu metal chair.

This time not even her breathing changed as he carefully lifted his hand again to bring her closer to eye level and his spark felt like it twisted for a moment in response. She was small and fragile and vulnerable and she trusted him and he wasn't even sure he trusted himself yet on most days, and that wasn't even getting into what the Seeker could do on a whim. He knew it wouldn't hurt a mate on purpose but that didn't mean he trusted it not to forget that humans were fragile beings because he shared a mind with the thing and slagging well knew it was impulsive at best and had the common sense and daunting self-restraint of a hyperactive toddler.

It wasn't a comparison the Seeker had been particularly impressed with when Will had actually explained it but then, Will had not been particularly impressed with the Seeker at the time, either, so he'd figured that turnabout was fair play.

He had the echo of Ironhide's presence in the back of his mind but the bond felt muted and distracted and was probably being blocked by the mech in an offer of what little privacy he could have in his current situation. He appreciated the gesture, at least, even if he would never truly have any secrets anymore when it came to Ironhide. That whole thing should probably bother him a lot more than it did, even if he trusted Ironhide with his life, but Will suspected it was a wonderful combination of shock, stress, and stubbornness that kept it all at bay to be dealt with later... assuming they got out of it alive. If not, he still had his list of grievances to air to Primus.

Even the Seeker was being suspiciously quiet but a silent inquiry gave him the feeling of hesitance-worry-impatience-fear and he could understand that. If he could have helped, he would have - for all of their issues, they were still partners and trine-mates - but Will had yet to find anything to help make himself feel better about the whole situation, much less a terrified youngling who probably understood better than anyone the gravity of the situation. He couldn't even reasonably compare it to the first time he saw active combat himself because this was really nothing like it. Ratchet had felt distracted, too, if less so than the Seeker - more used to putting his life on the line and being a target by virtue of being a combat medic and the last genuine Autobot medic around - but still distracted and still worried. His body language had told Will as much, even if their bond hadn't.

To be fair, it wasn't something Will liked to think about, either, and however much he might have been against it before, he was quickly learning the joys of denial now. It wasn't like there was much he could do, not this close to leaving and with no Starscream around to practice against. Worrying would get him nowhere. They would meet up with the slaggers soon enough and he really doubted it would matter then how much he had and hadn't worried about it. It wasn't a matter of skill, after all - he was honest enough with himself to admit that much. Skill wouldn't come into play to their advantage until he actually proved he could go against Starscream in person and he knew perfectly well that 'frozen with indecision' and 'deer in headlights' rather than flat-out treason was probably the best he could hope for in that particular regard.

"Will?"

Sarah's voice cut through his brooding, low and worried, and he cursed his tunnel-vision for good measure before the Seeker made an apologetic sound followed by Will's own sigh.

I'm sorry, he offered quietly.

He expected her to pick up on those unspoken words in the way that she always seemed to know what he thought - long marriage or mind-reading abilities, he still wasn't sure, but he figured it was the former or she would probably have glared at him for his language a long time ago - but he hadn't expected the way she froze in his hand for a second and her eyes widened almost imperceptibly; too little to notice if he hadn't already been paying close attention to her but more than enough to tell him something was going on.

The Seeker offered a short, concerned series of clicks and whirrs in what Will had learned to recognise as that alien Seeker-language, and the meaning apparently carried over just fine from body language and tone alone because Sarah relaxed again in his hand and the blue eyes that found his were looking at him with a sense of wonder.

"I felt you. In my mind, like when you scanned for me," she explained quietly. "Stop being sorry, Will. It's not your fault. You, or the Seeker. You're making the best of a bad situation. You died but I got you back. Maybe in a different wrapping and maybe with someone else I have to share you with, but I can live with that if it means having you here."

Nice, calm, reasonable... which, sadly, wasn't really something Will's human mind was particularly inclined to listen to when it came to that whole situation and much less his own guilt at putting his small family through that sort of thing.

"I was the one who got myself killed by being stupid," he responded just as quietly and brushed one finger against her hair with infinite gentleness, grateful that Seekers needed as delicate sensors as they did. It allowed him to feel that much, at least. "I could have been more careful. I could have not gotten killed in the first place."

Sarah snorted in the way that Will had learned meant 'you're being an absolute idiot' – and he really couldn't argue with that one – and then her expression softened again.

"Then get back to me alive."

Will's optics shuttered briefly at that, the sudden, sharp pain in his spark right back again at the soft words and the answer he didn't want to say out loud.

I can't promise that.

And he couldn't, not with Starscream out there, not with the Seeker unable to do much of anything to resist at all, not with Megatron out to convert or kill him like the slag-aft Seeker-wannabe of a glitch that he was. He couldn't promise it and even if he could, it would still say nothing about the circumstances of his survival. Megatron wasn't going to let an Autobot Seeker wander around and Starscream's protection of a stupid, misguided youngling only extended so far. Coming back alive did not necessarily mean coming back with the same paint-job as he had left with and that thought scared him far more than an offlining did.

Something must have shown through the weak bond with Sarah, or he was just that obvious to the people who knew him, because she shifted in his hand and rested one of her own hands against his much larger metal finger and gave him a look that left little doubt that she knew exactly what was going on in his head.

"Get back to me alive, Will," she repeated softly. "I'm not NEST or Optimus Prime or Ironhide. I'm your wife and I trust you, with myself and Annabelle both. And if you decide that a new 'paint-job' is in order, then I trust that, too."

It was reassuring and terrifying all in once, one less thing to worry about but also one less leash to keep him safely bound at the Autobots' side, and all he could do was shift his own hands slightly as well to curl protectively in a shield around her.

He would keep her safe. He would keep her safe, whatever the cost, because Ironhide could stand his ground a hell of a lot better than Will could and Ratchet wasn't half bad, either, but Sarah was small and fragile and his.

It was as much the Seeker part in him as the human who made that silent promise, and then he carefully uncurled his hands again as the background noise picked up somewhere behind them and the first in a series of pings in his processors alerted him that their departure was approaching fast.

"I'll try," he promised quietly.

He moved to put her down on the ground again but something in the look she gave him stopped him and he watched silently as she took off her small, familiar gold necklace. It took a second for it to click in Will's entirely-too-stressed processors and then his eyes flared briefly in surprise.

Oh.

He knew there were little compartments here and there in his new body, even with an alt-mode like his, but he had never considered them before or paid attention in the slightest even in theory so he put the matter in his Seeker half's clawed, metallic hands and watched with some bemusement as coding flickered through his mind before it finally seemed to settle on... whatever the Seeker had decided on.

Something shifted near the top of the gold-tinted canopy that somehow transformed from cockpit and into being part of his chest, and a pair of small plates near his spark-chamber split apart even as he followed Sarah's unvoiced order to bring her closer.

Her hand brushed lightly against armour plating, lingered for a moment above his spark-chamber, and then she shifted again and he felt the minute change as his sensors picked up on twelve-point-four grams of familiar soft, yellow metal as the small necklace found its way into the compartment and he and the Seeker both made sure their mate-wife was well away from it again before the compartment closed.

"Come back to me alive," Sarah repeated softly before she allowed him to lower her to the ground again and slid down from his hand with practised ease.

For a moment his world narrowed down to nothing more than that small bit of precious metal and the silent, desperate promise that he would do everything he could to fulfil that one request, and then he was brought back again as a second ping intruded upon his processors and he became aware of someone behind him.

Sarah had left but Ironhide was there, waiting silent as Will forced rampant emotions back under control and turned around to face him. The connection was still muted, if less so than before, and that was probably how the mech had been able to sneak up on him. That, and the Pit-spawned tunnel-vision he doubted he would ever get used to.

"Lennox?"

It sounded like the beginning of a serious question about his mental state of mind or his emotions or something else he really did not want to talk about so Will fell back on good ol' army training and settled for a diversion.

"Shouldn't you be all wrapped up in a cargo hold like a Christmas present by now?"

Judging by Ironhide's snort, that little diversion had been seen through immediately – frag his inability to properly block a bond, and frag allies who knew him entirely too well while he was at it, too – but the mech allowed it, anyway.

"As soon as I get your aft on the runway, Lennox."

A glance in the mentioned direction and Will very carefully did not pass along the Seeker's disgusted look. The runway with the actual, human F-22s that would take off as air support for the C-17s if needed and which they were supposed to fly along with to get used to working with other people, and while the Seeker liked its alt-mode, that courtesy did not extend to the actual F-22s, too.

Will had made the mistake of asking what its problem was. The list of insults aimed at said F-22s that he got in return was enough to convince him that he really didn't need to know and he really didn't care enough to push any further for an answer. Slow, weak, and useless had ranked pretty high on the list of insults, though, so Will could have some qualified guesses, at least. Seekers weren't that well-armoured or well-armed compared to a lot of ground-bound mechs but they were fast and the sort of acrobatics they were capable of in the air was nothing a human-built jet could have done. It was their strength and they took pride in it. Looking at it like that it wasn't that much of a wonder that the Seeker was annoyed with their escort to say the least.

"I don't need a runway," Will pointed out on behalf of both of them but followed Ironhide towards the jets, anyway, knowing a lost cause when he saw it.

That was probably why Ironhide looked vaguely amused, too. Will doubted he would have found it quite as amusing if he'd flat-out refused.

"I know," the mech responded. "Be a good bird-brain and play along, anyway. You make the pilots twitchy."

There was more things to say, a million worries and fear and gnawing uncertainties, but time had run out for that and when it came down to it, it didn't matter, either. What Will knew, Ironhide knew as well and he could not yet block it enough to keep secrets. Everything that was gnawing on Will's mind Ironhide already knew, for better and for worse, and he was still there despite it all.

As he approached the runway and felt Ironhide's hand on his arm in silent support, Will sent him a flicker of gratefulness before the Weapon Specialist was called off and Will was left among Earth-jets and pilots and thoughts that had entirely too many opportunities to demand his attention.

What Will knew, Ironhide knew, and still the mech was there, despite fantasies of Starscream and thoughts of treason and everything else Will and the Seeker had put the poor mech through. He was still there despite it all, spark-merge and not, and Will's hand lingered for a moment on the compartment with the small necklace within.

Maybe he couldn't promise to come back alive but he would fragging well keep them safe. He wasn't going to make Ironhide pull the trigger, he wasn't going to turn his weapons on his comrades in arms, and he sure as frag wasn't going to roll over and beg just because Starscream wanted him to.

He imprinted that promise on his very spark and felt the Seeker add its own resoluteness to it, the combined stubbornness of two beings so very much in over their heads and so painfully aware of it, too, and even that didn't matter now.

Maybe the odds weren't good but going by the odds, the whole of NEST should have been dead several times over. Right now, that stubbornness was all they really had going for them and that would fragging well have to do.