Trials of a Seeker - tfanonkink - Ironhide/Will/Ratchet, part 1

[sorciere]

Original request is here: http://community.livejournal.com/tfanonkink/491.html?thread=792299#t792299 – Seeker!Will, car fetish, Seeker libido, more humour and plot than smut, and my general fail at writing anything above PG-13.

Title as suggested by requester: Trials of a Seeker
Rating: R
Pairing: Eventual Ironhide/Will/Ratchet, as things are looking now.
Summary: Will gets turned into a Seeker. Things go downhill from there.



WIP – it'll get posted here as it gets written, and crossposted to the TF anonkink community as well. I probably fail at this request, since this turned out to be more humour and sort of plot than kink, but eh, I have fun writing it, so I'll post it :D Non-beta'ed, since I'm supposed to be writing something else and my poor beta will be overworked enough as is -cough-

The all-mighty Wikipedia states that movie!Starscream is around 31 feet tall. I figured the rest of the Seekers would probably be around the same size, then.

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It was not a good day. Getting killed had sucked, and then it had headed downhill from there, and no, it was not a good day at all. He wasn't sure how he had found himself in his current situation, because all he remembered was light, and a voice, and the distinct impression that the god of the Cybertronians had a sick, sick sense of humour and a very warped idea of gratitude, and then he was in the infirmary, with Ratchet poking him and suddenly looking a lot less towering than Will was used to.

It had really gone downhill from there.

Oh, sure, the Autobots looked alien, but it had nothing on the weirdness of suddenly waking up as one. His processors might insist that his new body was perfectly fine, but the rest of his human thought processes were less than happy with the whole thing. The first uncomfortable realisation was that he was an alien robot now. The second was that the weird-aft slag on his back was wings, and the third one – discovered as Ratchet let him stand up – was that he was towering.

Not just tall. Towering. His sense of perspective was slagged to the Pit, but some processor or another kindly informed him that he had ten feet on Ratchet, eight feet on Ironhide, and that whenever their resident medic would permit him to see anyone else, he would find himself close to eye-level with Optimus Prime.

The fourth realisation was that while his human mind had firmly decided that his new body could best be summed up as 'ugly as frag', his mech mind was already preening in a really, really uncomfortable way. He was a thirty-foot tall alien robot that apparently transformed into a plane. The last thing he needed was his entirely-too-close-to-being-schizophrenic mind deciding that he was pretty.

“Sam,” Will said as calmly as he could manage – and Primus, it was going to take a while to get used to hearing himself like that – “got brought back from the dead, too. In his own body.”

“Sam,” Ratchet repeated, in a voice that invited no arguments, “actually had a body that could be revived.”

Which, granted, was true, and was another reason on the list of why it had really not been a good day. He really, really hated large explosions he didn't cause himself. Fragging worthless Decepticon cowards.

He stared at his hand, flexed alien, metallic fingers as Ratchet watched him and clearly kept an eye on any sign that he was going to freak. Will couldn't blame him. He hadn't even started on the fact that his wife thought he was dead and he'd have to explain to her that she was technically married to an alien now, and that wasn't the only uncomfortable thought demanding attention, because slag it all, he wasn't just a Cybertronian, he was a Seeker.

“Does this make me a 'Con?” he finally asked quietly. He had seen his optics, and they were blue, but...

“A 'Con?” Ratchet repeated, voice questioning, and Will made what passed for a shrug in his new body and tried to make it casual.

“I thought all Seekers were 'Cons by default. They're all on Megatron's side, right?”

Ratchet looked amused at that, which was a nice change from the intense scrutiny Will had been the subject of since he woke up in the infirmary. “Do you feel like a 'Con?”

“... No?”

Still amusement. “Blue optics, Autobot insignia on your wings, no immediate urge to kill innocent beings... I'd say you're clear.”

Oh.

Another pause, and finally Will got a grip on himself and managed to ask the question that had been nagging him since approximately three seconds after he first laid his brand new optics on Ratchet, and if he had been human, he would have taken a deep breath to steel himself. “So, you going to tell me why the Pit I've got slagging heating fans turning on when I think of 'Hide, or Optimus... or you?” he added, because if he had to go for embarrassing, he might as well get it all out in one go.

Ratchet, bless his spark, didn't even look surprised but only pointed at the infirmary bed again. “Sit,” he said firmly. “You're going to get a crash course in Seeker programming, and I don't think you're going to like it.”

---------------------------

Not liking it, Will realised about half an hour and several data transfers later, was an understatement. It didn't help that most of his objections were dismissed with the catch-all 'You're a Seeker'. Married and not interested in fooling around? You're a Seeker now. Human mind that does not think mechs are a turn-on at all and which is really uncomfortable with fantasising about the colour of Ratchet's plating? You're a Seeker now. Sudden urge to provoke Ironhide into pinning him to the wall and 'facing him into next week? Well, you're a Seeker now.

Seeker were, apparently, the Cybertronian equivalent of raving nymphos, and there was nothing to do but accept it and get used to the thought, or stay moody and biting about not getting anything. Right back to his teenage years, basically, and Will bit back a snarl as he waited for Optimus and Ironhide to get their afts down to the infirmary. Optimus, because he was in charge, and Ironhide because Ratchet apparently felt that the weapon specialist would be a calming influence as Will adapted to it all. Knowing Bumblebee, he was probably waiting impatiently, too – as much for his own sake as for Sam's – but Will really didn't feel up for facing any more people that he had to.

A pause, and his brain groaned.

Meeting. Meeting any more people than he had to.

Slag it all.

The doors opened and thirty-two feet of Prime stepped inside, followed by a weapon specialist that looked uncomfortably small to someone who was used to watching him from a human-sized body. He cringed before he could help it, the soft sound of plating sliding against plating, and Optimus Prime gave him a sympathetic look, and only a firm grip on his slagging heating fans kept them from kicking in as core programming reacted to the sheer strength the Prime radiated.

The Seeker programming purred. The human brain groaned.

Seeker programming found his optics lingering on the lines of Optimus Prime's helmet, curved blue that looked sinfully smooth to touch, and Will ruthlessly pushed aside the thought before it could go any further.

It was Optimus Prime, for Pit's sake. Optimus Prime.

Then his Prime went to talk with Ratchet, and Ironhide crossed the room and if there was any hesitation at all, he didn't show it. Not that Will would have minded. It would have been understandable. He was a Seeker, and Seekers were generally bad news to an Autobot.

“What the slag did you do this time?” the weapon specialist drawled, and Will hadn't even known until then how worried he had been about their reactions, and he shifted, a bit embarrassed.

“Something blew up. We got the building cleared, though.”

Which made it worth it. At least, that's what he had figured the moment before it all blew up. Stupid way to die, but none of them had signed up for NEST expecting a safe career, and that was okay, too.

He probably looked stupid, big-aft Seeker ducking his head at the words of a mech about two thirds of his size, but he didn't particular care. Ironhide made him feel human for a while, made him feel normal, and he could add that to the long, long list of things he already had to be grateful for when it came to the dark mech.

It wasn't much, but it was still a distraction, and a moment later his heating fans whirred to life as his attention slipped, and he groaned. Audibly.

Ironhide, bless his spark, merely smirked faintly but didn't comment until after Will had managed, a few painfully long seconds later, to get the fans back under control – and he really, really didn't deserve friends like that, and 'Hide really, really didn't deserve to have Will's new core programming gleefully bring up images of what those strong hands would feel like, and the hum of the cannons as they stroked against his wings, scarred metal following the flawless curves of his new body, caressing wing-tips and lingering on the spot where the wings joined and sensors would spring to life at even the ghost of a touch, and-

“Seeker, huh?” Ironhide finally said, amused, and Will just sighed.

“Seeker,” he agreed.

His core programming felt insulted. Will really didn't care.

---------------------------

Optimus Prime's little talk with Ratchet was a lot shorter than the one Will had gotten, but then, he probably didn't need most of it. If Will had figured Ratchet right, a lot about Seekers was considered common knowledge to most mechs, and the less-known parts about it, Ratchet had apparently not seen fit to tell his Prime.

Will was seriously considering finding someone who delivered gift-wrapped high-grade and get a stack for the medic as a thank you for small mercies.

You've got two sets of fans, Ratchet had said, and Will was grateful for his straight-forwardness, at least. Cooling fans, which we all have. They cool you down. And then you've got those. A tap of fingers against his plating, making his point until Will got said fans under control again. We all have internal heating systems, but heating fans are a Seeker-specific addition. It's a mating display, but it's not common knowledge. Cybertronians experience heat when we feel... attracted to someone. You don't need to be cooled down until things heat up, obviously. Your heating fans bring up your surface temperature just enough to show your interest until your actual body response can take over, and the sound is familiar to mechs as a sign of arousal. It's part of why Seekers have a reputation for having interfacing on their processors. The fans are mistaken for a sign of arousal rather than interest. A pause, amused. I'm flattered, really.

Will had ignored that part of it. So he was a peacock now. Strutting his feathers, while everyone around him assumed he was running around with a constant hard-on. Mech-on. Whatever.

Peachy. Just slagging peachy.

It would be unfortunate to have to spend energy in an emergency on keeping your body temperature down, Ratchet had continued. If Seekers were truly in such a constant state of arousal, they would not be as dangerous as they are. It's a sign of interest, a signal that someone is seen as a potential mate and that you would be willing to pursue the idea, but it's only surface plating that heats up, and only enough to get the intent across.

So Ironhide probably had the idea that being around him made Will worked up because Ironhide was a mech, and Will was a Seeker and Seekers were interface addicts and would do anyone, and he wasn't sure at all that would be an improvement to explain to the mech that it had actually been a very specific response aimed at a potential mate rather than just raving nympho tendencies showing themselves.

Rock and a hard place, really. No wonder Seekers liked to let everyone think they just liked 'facing that much. It left them a lot less vulnerable when people didn't think it was anything they meant that seriously.

Anything else I should know? he had asked, just a bit annoyed with the whole thing, and Ratchet had sighed – or what passed for it, in their species.

Seekers do have their reputation for a reason. While you are not in a near-constant state of arousal as some might think, your core programming is looking for potential mates to spark with, and it will react if you ignore it for too long. To be blunt, Seekers who do not interface regularly become unpleasant to be around. You do not have a trine to assist you in that. I would recommend you keep that fact firmly in your processors.

He could have objected that he was married, that he didn't find robots a turn-on, that he wasn't going to let programming dictate who the slag he was, but it wasn't what his brain latched on to in the end.

… Spark with? I'm a chick? Baffled, utterly baffled, because the few femmes Will had seen were all relatively small for Cybertronians, and he was the size of Optimus slagging Prime, and this was not going well at all, and-

No, Ratchet had said, amused. You're a Seeker.

And the day had continued downhill after that.


---------------------------


Two hours later, and Will's day had only improved marginally. The heating fans had reacted to Ratchet, Optimus, and Ironhide. They also seemed to have considered Bumblebee for fraction of a second before deciding against him – and for frag's sake, the scout was barely more than half his size, so thank Primus for small mercies, at least – but still Will had barely managed to suppress a groan.

No reaction around Arcee or Chromia or Flareup – or the Twins, thank Primus – all of which his core programming had dismissed as too small and fragile, and those Seeker instincts had seemed baffled by Jolt for a moment before finally, reluctantly, deciding against him as a mate, too, although Will got the distinct impression that those Seeker instincts also wouldn't at all mind a good ol' 'facing with the mech at all. Sideswipe... attractive enough to make Seeker programming downright purr in his mind again, and while he got an uncomfortable amount of images of just how very much his programming would like a roll in the hay with the mech, the heating fans stayed off. Too small, even if he was dangerous and competent enough, and Will had sighed and accepted that little mercy, too.

Three mechs he needed to watch himself around, then, and he very firmly pushed the thought of the slagging 'Cons out of his mind, because Seeker programming apparently didn't care much about factions at all, either, and while fantasising about allies was one thing, he was not going to acknowledge the images in the back of his processors that informed him just how very good it could be with fellow Seekers, who knew what to touch, what to do; who knew his responses and would spend hours worshipping those wide expanses of beautiful, flawless, sensitive wings and running clawed fingers over delicate sensor nodes, and-

Slag. Slag it all to the Pit, and he was starting to understand why Megatron had all of the flying fraggers. Seeker knew Seeker best, and why make due with only ground-pounders when you could have a trine to bond with; who knew you, who would watch your back, who would bond over purred wing-polishing and send pleasure through your bond when you 'faced with them, and the heating fans whirred to life before he could stop them, and it took Will another few, fumbling seconds to get them back under control again.

Ironhide only gave him an amused look and Will bit back a scowl.

Slag it all to the Pit, and when he got his hands on Primus, someone would fragging well pay for the whole Pit-spawned clusterslag.

He had a human wife. He had a daughter. He had a family, and at least Sarah seemed to have a firmer grip on it that he did, an uncertain first look replaced by raw concern and then a dark glare at Optimus Prime before she had all but dragged him away for what Will assumed to be a very firm talk about the situation. He would normally have pitied Optimus for that, but right now the fragger was their most direct link with Primus and thus a handy target for Will's irritation with the slagger, too.

“Fraggers,” Will muttered and levelled another scowl at Ironhide. “Stop looking so slagging amused.”

Still faint amusement as Ironhide watched him. “What would you prefer, Will? You didn't strike me as the type to prefer being pitied and coddled.”

A jab at his refusal to pick a designation – his name was William Lennox, how fragging hard could it be? Will, or William, or Lennox, or whatever other combination they could think of, and he didn't care, he was not picking a Cybertronian name – and Will glared at the mech but didn't really mean it. Ironhide did have a point, and if he had been given more time to come to terms with his new situation, maybe he would even appreciate having someone treat him normally and not give him those wide-eyed looks or speculative glances, or whatever else the other fraggers had done.

And he was getting seriously annoyed. He desperately hoped it was a delayed stress reaction and not Ratchet's warning coming true that soon.

They fell silent again as they watched Diego Garcia and its surroundings from a secluded hangar as Optimus Prime and everyone else tried to keep their new Seeker hidden until they figured out just what to tell to the governments and the humans on base, and when Ironhide spoke again, his voice was surprisingly soft for the mech.

“Could be worse,” he said quietly and his optics were staring into the distance as Will turned his head to look at him. “You can fly, you know. Most of us can't. Even when Cybertron was at its brightest, most of us were ground-bound. Fliers of any kind weren't that common, much less Seekers.”

There was something in his voice that sounded almost longing and it made Will's anger fade as he turned his head to stare out at sea as well. “I have no one to train me,” he said just as quietly, and Ironhide snorted softly.

“If he brought you back as a Seeker, I doubt he'd have left you ground-bound because you didn't know how to fly.” A pause. “It's probably mostly instinct. I always knew how to use weapons, too. I got training, sure, but the first time someone handed me a cannon, it felt... right. I knew what to do, I just had to remember it. I learned fast.”

Flying, Will realised. He could fly. Not a parachute jump, not stuck inside a plane, but actually fly, and every instinct in his body sang at the realisation and made him look up at the vast emptiness of the sky above them, just waiting for a Seeker to tear through the freezing air up there and leave intricate patterns of turbulence as it skimmed across clouds.

A hesitant look at Ironhide – just shy of four tons, shorter, more compact than Will's new body, and he wondered just how much he would be able to lift as he flew – and he kept a firm mental grip on his fans as his core programming let him know in no uncertain terms that it approved of the idea, Ironhide pressed hard against his body as they tore through the air together, the exhilaration of being the first to introduce the ground-mech to the wonders of flight-

- And Will bit back a tired sigh and kept the grip on his heating fans and pretended not to notice the questioning look Ironhide gave him.

Out of all the mech-builds, he just had to end up in the sex-obsessed one, and a moment later his new body agreed as Ironhide shifted, the sound of heavy plating sliding, moving, old scars won in battle catching the light of the sun, and his heating fans picked up again before he could stop it, drawing a groan from the new Seeker.

“You have a sick, sick god,” he muttered.

And Ironhide laughed.

---------------------------

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.


---------------------------


“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.


---------------------------


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.


---------------------------


An hour later found Will in the infirmary – again – and waiting restlessly for Ratchet to finish his check-up. A week ago, patience wouldn't have been a problem, but Seeker instincts didn't do sitting still, and human mind and Seeker programming had yet to reach a compromise on that issue... or more others, for that matter.

Like food. He was a Cybertronian and every bit of programming told him that the Energon he had been given might not be high-grade but was still good. The human part of him had just sighed and wished for a pizza. His new body and his old mind didn't get along on a lot of issues, and Will really didn't look forward to getting used to it all.

Issues like Ironhide, although it wasn't just the Seeker part attracted to him now, but that thought was interrupted as Ratchet reappeared and honed in on the restless Seeker with a precision that would have made Starscream envious – and he was really not comfortable with the admiration his new programming seemed to have for the Decepticon Second in Command, and he desperately hoped that ignoring it would make it go away before it got any worse.

“You've got the human crews in awe of you,” the medic snorted. “And Prime stuck between reprimanding you for that stunt you pulled or acknowledging that you technically kept the word of the agreement and showed a remarkable level of skills in the process.”

Will looked down for a moment, watched his new bird-like feet and legs, and then looked up again and shrugged and settled for plain honesty. “I have no excuse. I took a look at the sky, and next thing I'm off and it's... like nothing else. Nothing. We all think that Starscream and the rest of his trine have issues, but I don't. Not anymore. It's in their programming. You're up there, and it's like a drug. You're a god. Unchallenged and undefeated.” A pause, and when he continued, it was a lot quieter, forcing out words his Seeker programming struggled desperately against. “I can't fight it, Ratchet. I'll do it again given the chance. If you want to keep me ground-bound, you have to lock me up, and you have to do it soon, or I'll be fighting it every step of the way. I'll go quietly now if you want me to, but I can't promise tomorrow, or the day after that.”

Ratchet watched him for a long moment, and Seeker programming twisted as it realised the medic might just seriously be considering the suggestion, and his voice gave nothing away as he finally answered. “You're a Seeker.”

Seekers are meant for the sky, Seekers are claustrophobic, Seekers can go mad if they're grounded, hung unspoken in the air, because Ratchet had experience with Seekers and some things were just well-known about them.

“I know,” Will said quietly, to both the spoken and the unspoken remarks. “I'm also William Lennox, and I'm supposed to be stronger than this. Give the order and I'll go. You're still my superior officer.”

Lock up, toss away the key because his Prime and the ground-pounders were too scared of what a Seeker could do, and programming struggled in his mind even as he forced it aside, and still Ratchet watched, and maybe it was a test, but he had too much to think about already and he couldn't deal with anything else.

A gentle hand against his face plates, causing heating fans to almost switch on again, and Will looked up, unaware that he had even looked away to begin with.

“I would not lock up a Seeker,” Ratchet said quietly. “I already recommended to Prime that we let you fly. Your offer is noted but will not be accepted.”

Relief, gratitude, dread, because there would be nothing to hold back the Seeker anymore, and Will finally spoke the words that had lingered in the back of his mind since he had woken up.

“I'm scared.”

Silence, and Will continued as he looked down again. “I'm scared slagless. I can feel it take over and there's nothing I can do. I can see what I'm doing, I can tell myself I shouldn't do it, but I can't do anything to stop it. Three days, Ratchet. You saw what happened today. There's going to be nothing left of me when this is done. Just a Seeker... and a future Decepticon whenever it gets around to defecting, because I'm starting to understand why Megatron has all the Seekers and it scares the slag out of me, too.”

Strong fingers gripped his chin and Will looked up, startled. “That won't happen.” Fierce, determined, and he wanted so badly to believe it as Ratchet continued. “Seekers have strong programming but they still have personalities, just like the rest of us. Starscream, Thundercracker, Skywarp... they all have their own personalities. Unpleasant ones, perhaps, but personalities nonetheless. You will still be William Lennox. You simply need to learn to merge the programming with the person you were.”

“You sound sure about that,” Will said quietly. “Got any case studies to back that up?”

“No, but I trust that Primus wouldn't send you back just to let you watch yourself become nothingness in the face of Seeker programming,” Ratchet said firmly. “Fight, Lennox. You didn't back down to Blackout, or even your own government when you felt they were in the wrong. Don't tell me you're going to let one little bit of coding break you.”

“It's not that easy,” Will said, but even then he still felt a bit better. He trusted their medic, trusted that he knew what he was talking about, and even if the fight looked hopeless, he was still going to try. He could do that much, at least.

“I know.”

Will got the impression that Ratchet really did know, and then the medic let go of him and straightened, looking distinctly amused.

“You suffered no injuries from your little stunt. If anything, I'd say you're in better shape now than you were yesterday. Your body is adapting to itself.”

Which was... good. Probably. Will wasn't sure, because if there was nothing physical that needed fixed, he would have entirely too much time to consider his various mental issues instead, and Ironhide ranked pretty high on that list.

“Asking for help is not a weakness, Will. You don't have to fight alone,” Ratchet pointed out, and Will snorted.

“I know.” And slag it all, he might as well go with honesty for that, too, and the words were biting as he continued. “What do you want me to say? That I apparently had the mech equivalent of a really good long-distance make-out session fifty-six miles above Diego Garcia? That I have vivid fantasies of making Ironhide prove his strength to me? Of my body pinned under Prime's stronger built, and your hands systematically seeking out every sensor node on my wings? Because I do. Every slagging time I let my thoughts drift around you, every slagging time I lose focus, that's what I see, and I know I'm a Seeker now, but I'm also still human somewhere in the back of my mind, and that part of me is not comfortable fantasising about giant robots.” A pause, and if he had been human, he would have taken a deep breath. “This is my fight, Ratchet. I wouldn't undo this if I could, because I can do a lot of good like this if I can make it work, but I'm not going to pretend it's all fine, either. I can cope with this part of it, but it's my fight, not anyone else's.”

“I understand your reasoning, but the offer stands,” Ratchet said, and there was a flicker of bemusement across his features. “Why me, though? I'm flattered, don't get me wrong, but while I understand your programming deciding on Ironhide and Prime... why me? I'm a medic. Seekers look for fighters.”

Seeker programming murmured in the back of his mind, the answer instantly there without even trying, and Will passed it on, because he owned Ratchet that much, at least.

“You're a front-line medic,” he said. “Skilled. Not afraid of war. Seekers go after fighters because they're strong and skilled. So are you, in a different way.”

Ratchet nodded thoughtfully, and Will stared at his hands again, metal fingers moving absently.

Fight.

Seeker programming fighting against what remained of his human mind and personality, and the body didn't help at all on it – purely Cybertronian, right down to the Autobot insignias on his wings, and maybe that was part of the problem, too. There was nothing physically human left. Nothing he could hold on to.

Fight, Lennox.

Ironhide had a scar, Starscream had Cybertronian glyphs written on him in some mech equivalent of tattoos, and there was a hazy idea somewhere in his mind, and he struggled to grasp it as he looked at Ratchet again.

“How did Starscream get his markings?” he asked.

And the idea took shape.


---------------------------


When Ironhide saw his human-turned-Seeker partner again, it took his processors a moment to pick up on the fact that something was different. Well, more different than the fact that they had a Seeker in their midst now, and Ironhide paused as his optics really took in what he saw.

“NEST,” he said, and it was a statement more than a question.

The familiar NEST insignia added underneath the Autobot insignia on either wing, and Ironhide knew real etchings when he saw them. For a moment he wasn't sure how to react – Will Lennox was an Autobot now, and while Ironhide had carried the NEST insignia as well on occasion, it had always been a temporary addition and never a permanent brand like the one Will now wore – and then he decided to handle it like he handled everything else: the straight-forward way.

“Must've hurt like slag,” he commented.

Will shrugged, and experience told Ironhide that his wings were probably still sore, although he didn't let it show. “It did.”

A pause. “Why?”

Will gave him a defiant look. “Because I'm not going down without a fight, Ironhide. I might be turning schizophrenic, I might be losing my mind, I might be losing myself, but I'm not going to just let it happen. I'm going to fight, Ironhide. Kicking and snarling every step of the way. I was human before Primus decided to mess around with things. I'm not going to forget that without a fight.”

Maybe he expected an argument, but if he did, he was in for a disappointment as Ironhide settled for a shrug. “That explains why you took so long with Ratchet.” He had almost used the tentative bond to contact their wayward Seeker, but hadn't. He was aware to some degree that there were two personalities in there and that Lennox-the-human needed time. The Seeker had been the one to make advances during the fight, but the one he was dealing with right now was obviously the human, and furthermore, the human was just as obviously struggling. It wasn't something Ironhide had considered until then, but it made several pieces fall into place to complete an image he did not want to see.

There was a distinct difference between the way the Seeker moved and the way Will carried himself, but there were signs that the difference was becoming less pronounced, and most of it was Seeker-behaviour taking over. Part of the flight had been Lennox, even if the Seeker had been dominant, but a lot of what Ironhide saw now was very much Seeker behaviour. The voice was human, the word choice and personality was human, but the Seeker was lurking just beneath the surface.

Ironhide wasn't one to linger on what he couldn't change, and he was realistic enough to appreciate a new Cybertronian fighter in place of a human – even if said human had been a close friend – but he still found himself hoping rather strongly that the human personality would remain, and not just for the former human's sake, either. To see a good friend brought back had been a miracle from Primus, but the more he learned, the less miraculous it looked for the human mind stuck in a Seeker body as programming took over.

Like getting reprogrammed, Ironhide realised as the new etchings began to make an uncomfortable amount of sense. Losing yourself one bit of coding at a time.

The wings were interesting in ways that he hoped he would get the chance to explore in detail at a later time and the opportunity to train against a Seeker wasn't one he would pass up if offered, but not if the price of it was watching a brother in arms fall to pieces until nothing remained but another Seeker like Starscream's trine. Not if it was knowing that said brother in arms was aware of it, too, and fighting a losing battle against it every step of the way.

Decision made, Ironhide reached out and grasped the Seeker's arm in a firm grip, and still-unfamiliar features looked startled for a moment before determination took over and Will returned the gesture, fingers gripping hard as they found at least a bit of an anchor in the storm.

Neither said anything, and they didn't need to, and when they finally let go again, Ironhide gestured at the hangar behind him. “Prime's looking for you.”

Will hesitated for a moment, and then he nodded and followed Ironhide towards the familiar office.


---------------------------


The Seeker programming was mercifully dormant as Will stepped inside the office, only a slight purr in the back of his mind in reaction to their Prime. The flight and the etchings seemed to have kept the programming low-key for the time being, at least, and maybe he could actually get some work done with a clear head.

He would have stood at ease, but his new build wasn't really made for that sort of thing, and instead he merely let his hands rest at his side and waited silently for the verdict.

The silence stretched for long minutes, and Will was acutely aware of Ironhide standing unmoving behind him, a silent protector to their Prime, and Seeker programming slowly began to stir again. It would take so little for the mech to reach out and touch his wings, so many sensors nodes within reach, such wide expanses of smooth, flawless, sensitive wings, and Will forced the thought aside before it could go any further.

“What am I going to do with you?” Optimus Prime finally said and broke the increasingly uncomfortable silence. “You technically did not break our agreement, but Ratchet let me understand that I will need to learn to command a Seeker properly if I wish to avoid unfortunate loopholes in my orders in the future.”

If Will had been human, he would have taken a deep breath. As it was, he stood a bit straighter instead, because whatever happened, he was not going to back down to his new programming. Not while he could still fight. “The nice option or the practical one, sir?”

It might have been surprise in their Prime's features, but it was gone again an instant later. “Would you like to tell me the difference between them?”

Will shrugged. “Nice option – I stick around, get used to being a Seeker, fight it for as long as I can. Might even succeed in getting control of it eventually, but as it looks now, I wouldn't bet on that.” A pause, and when he looked at their Prime again, there was a silent dare in his eyes. “Practical option? You accept the fact that my Seeker programming is probably going to take over eventually and you'll be stuck with a rogue Seeker likely to go 'Con, and you use the time until then to send me on missions. If we're lucky, I'll get myself offlined, and treason won't even be an option.”

Silence. Silence and a pause as Optimus Prime really watched him and saw past the wings for possibly the first time since Will had woken up in the infirmary, and he resisted the urge to sigh.

“You're a leader, Prime,” Will said instead. “Don't try to tell me you've managed to hold your own against the 'Cons for this long without getting familiar with the dirtier side of war. I've heard the term 'Special Ops' thrown around here once or twice, and I'm going to guess that it's not that different from the human version most times. We might not be anywhere near as technologically advanced a species as you are, but we know dirty warfare. We've done pretty much nothing else through the entire human history.”

Still silence, and slag it all, it still felt wrong to be close to eye-level with their Prime, and then the mech nodded slowly. “We have had... some. It does demand a certain type of mech.” A pause, quieter. “Jazz was one.”

Jazz. Will could see that, somehow – good with infiltration, much better at adapting to cultures than the rest of the Autobots from what little Will knew about the mech he had only ever seen briefly before Megatron had torn him apart. He would have been a good Special Ops agent, and Will found himself nodding in turn. A damn good agent, even, and even if it was all Will would ever know about those Special Ops missions the Autobots had been behind, it was enough to tell that Optimus Prime did know his way around the nastier aspects of war and that he accepted their necessity, too. Out of the original five Autobots, Jazz had been their Prime's Second in Command. No leader who refused to acknowledge those shadow agents would have done something like that.

“I do not, however, believe you offer this for the right reasons,” their Prime continued, and Will froze almost imperceptibly. “Ratchet briefed me on your suggestion to him. I do not intend to let you throw your life away on a whim.”

Will hesitated, but their Prime's look was unyielding and finally he nodded tiredly. “Just... stop me before I hurt anyone. I wouldn't be this slagging worried if I thought I could control it.”

“I know.” Optimus Prime looked sympathetic for a moment, and then he nodded as well, all business again. “You will need an Earth-based alt-mode before we can allow you outside of Diego Garcia's airspace. When you have narrowed down a selection, I will contact our liaison, and we-”

“F-22,” Will interrupted. “Sir. I want an F-22.”

A long pause as Optimus Prime watched him. “Like Starscream and his trine.”

Will could imagine Ironhide's frown behind him, but he didn't back down as he held their Prime's gaze. “Yes. I looked at the specs when I had too much time to go stir crazy. The 'Con Seekers would have picked the best they could find. I agree with their choice. With the insignias and the NEST etchings, you shouldn't have a problem telling me apart from them in battle, and I can get a different paint job, too, if you want. I don't need to hide the same way they do.”

Another long pause, enough to make Will wonder if their Prime was starting to reconsider the offer he had made at first, and then the mech finally nodded. “I concur.”

He did?

Will's surprise must have shown, because Optimus looked faintly amused for a moment. “I will make arrangements with our liaison today. It should arrive tomorrow, then. The sooner you become used to your abilities, the sooner, perhaps, you will learn to control your Seeker programming to your satisfaction, too.”

Or lose my mind completely, but Will didn't say that. It was their Prime, and he would trust him, because he didn't have a choice. Him and Ratchet, and if he ended up going mad, at least he had done everything he could to warn them.

“I will notify you when your alt-mode is available.”

A polite dismissal, but a dismissal nonetheless, and Will straightened. “Yes, sir.”

And with that, he followed Ironhide out of the room.


---------------------------


Lost in his own thoughts, he didn't have time to realise that Ironhide was leading him behind a hangar in the lesser-used parts of their base until a strong hand grabbed him and he found himself pinned, back against the hangar wall as Ironhide's optics narrowed on him. The hold wasn't enough to keep him if he wanted to get loose, but enough to make the point, and he made a sharp sound as he barely managed to keep suddenly-active heating fans under control.

“Do you have a death wish, Lennox?” he growled, and Will glared back but didn't move.

“I just believe in back-up plans, Ironhide. Things aren't magically going to fix themselves just because I ignore them. If I plan ahead, maybe it'll never get to a point where I have to use those plans.”

“I'd say,” Ironhide said in a low voice, “that your ideas go a little past 'back-up plans', Lennox. You all but told Prime to send you on a suicide mission.”

A silent stand-off as both glared and then Will looked away. “I told you, 'Hide. I'm losing myself and it scares the slag out of me. I don't want to turn 'Con. I don't want to snap someday and target you or Sam or the teams because that Seeker programming turned out to be nastier than we thought. I know I've got blue optics and Autobot insignias, but you know what? Frenzy had blue optics, too.”

His optics darkened for a moment as they still focused on everything but Ironhide, and the tension in his body drained under the mech's hands as Will yielded in their silent fight for dominance. “Optimus would take the shot but we both know he'd wait too long. Your cannons could probably take down Megatron. A Seeker wouldn't be a problem. It's just a matter of getting a target lock.”

He paused, and finally looked up and found Ironhide watching him, silent and serious, and he continued quietly, desperately. “I don't want to turn 'Con. Don't let me, 'Hide. Please.”

The grip lessened slightly, and when Ironhide spoke, there was no doubt or hesitation in his voice. “I won't. You have my word, Will. Whatever it takes.”

Even if it means pulling the trigger, he didn't say, but Will heard it, anyway, and nodded in silent thanks. He had needed to hear it, needed the knowledge that it would be one less worry to shoulder, and maybe he would have a little more focus to put into making sure it wouldn't come to that, now.

The grip had lessened but Ironhide still hadn't let go, and there was a peculiar glow in his eyes as he continued. “How much of you was up there?”

Up there? Will thought, and then it clicked a moment later. ...Oh.

If he had been human, he would have taken a deep breath at that, but he kept Ironhide's gaze, almost defiant. He'd gone with honesty for the rest of it. He might as well continue that trend, because there would be no guarantee he would have the chance to do it over if he fragged up. “Some. It wasn't all the Seeker.” He paused, and then he let go of his grip on the fans and let Ironhide pick up on the meaning himself. “I didn't have to fight that in Prime's office, or with Ratchet. I'm mostly me right now, and that means at least part of that reaction is mine as well. Am I comfortable with that? I'm not sure. A good part of me still sees me as a married human, and you as a big, alien mech, and that part gets stuck wondering how it would even work.”

Ironhide nodded and seemed to consider that before he spoke. “If we strengthened our bond,” he said carefully, “would it strengthen your connection to our side as well?”

Will blinked. That was... actually a good question. Would a Seeker be willing to leave a bond-mate, whatever the nature of that bond? Would any Cybertronian?

“I don't know,” he finally said. “It might just help the Seeker programming take over that much faster, too. Ratchet – Ratchet might know.”

One of the best medics since the war had broken out, and definitely the best surviving one, and if anyone knew, it had to be him.

He's got experience with Seekers, too.

“We should talk with him,” Ironhide said and let go of Will, and it wasn't just Seeker programming that objected a little to the sudden loss of contact.

“We should,” Will agreed.

He wasn't going to hope, but he wasn't going to argue with Ironhide, either, and with a small, tired sound, he followed the mech back towards the infirmary.


---------------------------


Ratchet wasn't sure what he had expected when Ironhide had entered his infirmary, followed by their new Seeker looking distinctively tired, but the suggestion that followed had definitely not been it. Ratchet had dismissed his immediate response – are you out of your slagging processors? – and had watched both of them carefully for a moment before he had dismissed Ironhide firmly.

“Last time I saw you, Lennox, you were willing to fight,” he told the Seeker quietly once they were alone. “That was half an hour ago.”

The soldier made what passed for a shrug in his new body. “I had a nice plan. Prime turned it down.”

“You had a suicidal plan,” Ratchet corrected, and more worrying than anything, perhaps, was the fact that the former human did not deny it.

“I had a nice plan,” Lennox repeated and didn't back down. “Half an hour, Ratchet. That was all it took for it to start to take over again. It was dormant when you did the etchings, but as soon as I was out of the door, it picked back up. I can't do this. I'm going to lose, and there'll be nothing I can do to stop it. That way, at least I'd be able to do some good, and maybe 'Hide wouldn't have to pull the trigger on me when I turned 'Con.”

“Not all Seeker are 'Cons,” Ratchet said, and repeated what he had told the former human several times already in as many days. “Primus would not have-”

“I have fantasies about Starscream,” Will interrupted, very quietly. “Starscream. Maybe Primus wouldn't have sent me back as an Autobot if I would turn 'Con, anyway, but maybe something went wrong. Maybe a human isn't strong enough to fight back. Maybe my Seeker programming is just fragged. Could be plenty of reasons, and I don't really care either way. I have fantasies about Starscream. I'm a Seeker, Ratchet. I'll be used in combat. What's going to happen the first time I end up fighting Starscream or Thundercracker or Skywarp? I've flown twice now and the Seeker took over both times. What's going to happen when I meet those Seekers in mid-air?”

Silence, because for once Ratchet really wasn't sure, and he suspected it was a question neither of them really wanted to know the answer to. Instead he took the chance to watch their new Seeker again and he wasn't encouraged by his conclusions.

Worse than I thought, then.

“How distinct is that Seeker programming?” he finally asked as a vague idea began to take shape. There was no guarantee it would work, of course, but unless he did something, they would lose either Will or the Seeker or both. It was really only a matter of which part had the final say in the argument.

The whisper of plates sliding together as Will shuddered at the question. “Distinct. I can feel it take over. It's a personality of its own. Schizophrenia. I wasn't lying, Ratchet. I can do a lot of good like this. Give me the chance and I can cause some real damage to the 'Cons before they take me down. At the rate this is going, it'd be the kindest thing to do. It'd be fast, at least.”

Ratchet nodded slowly and made his decision. “Let me speak to it.”

Sudden tension in the body before him, every last bit of body language telling Ratchet the answer before Will could even speak. “No. No. It'll take over soon enough. I'm me now. Let me keep that.”

While the medic understood Will's refusal, it also couldn't be helped. He had an idea, but he didn't want to warn the Seeker, and he watched the former human for a moment. Two ways to handle it. Ratchet settled for the kinder one.

“Have I ever given you reason to doubt me?”

Blue optics watched him for a long moment, something very human in the features as the soldier seemed to consider it, and then he made a soft sound. “No.”

Ratchet knew surrender when he heard it. “Then trust me in this, too.”

Another long moment, and then William Lennox nodded slowly, and Ratchet could see the changes as the Seeker took over – expression changing slightly, body shifting, head held higher, and the familiar sound of heating fans broke the otherwise silent room.

I like you, Ratchet mentally translated the sound. You interest me. We should explore this further.

He reached out carefully, watched the Seeker's optics follow his hand and the mech lean into his touch as he rested his hand against the sensitive wires on his throat, and an instant later he struck, fingers digging into vulnerable seams and taking a hard grip on the Energon-line there.

The screech was almost deafening but Ratchet had expected it and already prepared his audio receivers for it, and the Seeker was on the floor a second later, wings trembling as it stayed very, very still to keep Ratchet from damaging it.

The medic watched for a moment to ensure it had gotten the point, and then he went down on one knee, still keeping that grip on wires and lines.

“Now that I have your attention, Seeker, listen to me very carefully,” he said, his voice quiet and unrelenting. “You have a human personality in there as well. I don't know why Primus brought him back as a Seeker, but I do have experience with your breed. Most of you, if not all, are Decepticons by nature to some degree, blue optics and Autobot insignia or not. You all have that seed of arrogance and brutality in you, however deep down it might be. The human in you is fighting hard not to be crushed by you, as I'm sure you know. That means I have two patients in you, and right now I favour the human, Seeker. A soldier is worthless if it's a constant battle to make him take orders. I will fight for that human personality you carry. I will destroy every bit of programming you have, if that's what it takes. He is trying to adapt to you. If you ever wish to fly again, you will do the same.” Fingers tightened fractionally and the body beneath them trembled in soundless pain. “Have I made myself clear, you winged piece of scrap metal?”

Bright, panicked optics looked at him – first time, probably, that anyone had been anything but impressed or fascinated by the Seeker – and Ratchet knew the jet understood the point even before it nodded.

“Yes,” it rasped, and Primus, there was nothing human in that voice. “Yes, medic. I obey.”

Ratchet kept his grip for a moment longer and then he slowly let go. “Go into recharge. And Primus help you if we need to repeat this.”

The Seeker watched him with wary optics as it climbed onto a berth, nursing its wounded throat, and Ratchet waited until it was completely gone in recharge.

Then he went to find Ironhide.


---------------------------


“I'm not going to ask you what the slag you thought you were thinking,” Ratchet said flatly as he found the weapon specialist lingering outside of the infirmary, “because I strongly suspect you weren't.” Ironhide frowned, but Ratchet continued before he could object. “It's not entirely your fault. I am going to make some educated guesses, and you are going to tell me if I got it correct.”

Ironhide nodded at that, a bit wary, and Ratchet watched him carefully.

“You have a bond. Not a complete one yet, but the tentative beginnings of one that could evolve into the full connection of a mated bond, or a sibling bond, or one of close comrades in arms. You initialised it when he was human as a way of keeping an optic on him and likely were not even aware of it. Now the Seeker completed that bond.”

A stiff nod confirmed as much.

“As I suspected. That half-formed bond is now a constant source of attention to your processors. Like a line that has been put slightly out of place or a dent in an uncomfortable but not painful spot. This,” Ratchet continued firmly as Ironhide looked ready to object, “is not entirely your fault. The Seeker saw a chance to claim a mate. A good part of the frustration you feel about the tentative bond not being stronger is that Seeker influencing you.” A pause. “This should not be a problem in the future, if the winged pest knows what's good for it.”

Ironhide looked a bit uncertain at that. “Lennox?”

“The Seeker,” Ratchet corrected. “And make no mistake, Ironhide. They're distinctive personalities. More so than I originally assumed based on his answers. It's not a matter of getting used to programming. It's a matter of learning to deal with an entirely separate personality taking up residence in your processors. The Seeker, to the best of my knowledge, is a new spark and eager to explore this world and thus all the stronger for it. In time, it will settle down and be driven by more than just core programming.”

Silence. Ironhide, Ratchet knew, was familiar with physical damage but processor-related issues were far outside his area of experience.

“I had a talk with that Seeker. It should be more cooperative in the future, which in turn will allow the human part to regain control to a degree where it is the dominant one again.” A tired sound. “What went wrong? I don't know. I would say that Primus would never have sent him back as a Seeker if Will could not control it, but there is the very real possibility that Primus judged him on Cybertronian merits and simply did not consider that the human soul, however strong, would not ordinarily be a match against a spark and actual programming. Or perhaps Primus knew it all along, and judged Will as a soldier rather than a human, and reasonably assumed that if Will was going to die no matter what, he would not object to being brought back to even our odds, even if it meant that the Seeker would take over before long. For now, I have evened the battle ground for him but in the long run, him and that Seeker will have to merge to be able to function as they should.”

Still silence as Ironhide seemed to consider this, and when he finally spoke, his response was slow and thoughtful.

“What can we do?”

“Focus on the human,” Ratchet said, because he had already considered that part of it, too. “Do not bond with them, do not even interface, if it's not specifically what Will wants. If we simply wanted to bind the Seeker to our side, we could let it bond with Optimus Prime, and probably lose Will in the process as I doubt the human side would be very accepting of a bond made against its wishes. If he gives consent – him, not the Seeker – then it would probably serve to help merge the two sides to some degree, but you had better be very, very certain the human side consented, too.”

Ironhide frowned, and Ratchet snorted. “Don't think I didn't know what you two were up to during that test flight. You needed to hear that part of it. Focus on the human, Ironhide. Most of the rest of this place is too preoccupied with the fact that we have a Seeker now to consider the human part at all.” A pause. “I ordered the Seeker into recharge. Be there for him when he wakes up, Ironhide. He needs it.”

The dark mech nodded. “All right.”

And perhaps, Ratchet realised, things were starting to go the right way again.


---------------------------


Wariness greeted William Lennox somewhere in whatever place mechs went when they recharged. Wariness, annoyance, curiosity, and spark-deep fear lingering on the edge of it all, and the pieces clicked into place as it was followed by fleeting images of Ratchet in all his ruthless, unyielding glory.

Got your aft handed to you, huh? he drawled silently.

Sulking, but no attempt to stop Will's comments, and that was a start, at least.

So? he continued, letting the Seeker pick up on the meaning from the rest of his thoughts, and the question was followed by hesitation, and then faint bewilderment.

You have no wings, the Seeker asked in bemusement. I fly. Humans don't.

It was honest confusion, too, and Will got the sudden impression that the Seeker's spark or programming or whatever the hell made up the personality of a mech was very, very young.

We're adaptable, Will drawled. Besides, if you keep flying like that first time, you're going to get your aft fragged – by the 'Cons or our own side when you fly off to 'face with Starscream or someone.

Annoyance again. Mate.

Enemy, for Primus' sake! Starscream is an enemy, Will snapped back. And Ironhide will fry your aft if you as much as look like you want to go after those Seekers.

A pause followed by interest again, and Will got the distinct impression that it had been the mention of the Weapon Specialist that had drawn the bird-brain's attention.

Mate, it repeated, although this time it seemed aimed at the image of Ironhide, and if Will had been awake, he would have face-palmed. Out of all the Primus-damned builds on Cybertron... slag it. Being able to fly did not make up for dealing with a Seeker.

Starscream, Ironhide, Prime, Ratchet – do you have anything but 'facing on your processors? Will snapped.

There was a long pause and the distinct feeling that the Seeker was considering that.

Compromise? it offered hesitantly, followed by images of Ratchet, and whenever Will woke up, he owed the medic a big thank you for handling the situation.

Compromise? Will repeated, and there were another quick flicker of images of the mechs in question, lingering on-

Ironhide, the Seeker said, still hesitant – and Ratchet had definitely put the fear of the Pit into the thing. Strong.

The thought wasn't as objectionable as Will had expected – better than the alternatives, definitely, and he hadn't been lying when he had told Ironhide that it hadn't all been the Seeker making out with him in mid-air – and adapting was supposed to go both ways. He was stuck with Seeker programming but that didn't mean they couldn't make it work. Somehow.

Frag it all, he didn't get paid enough for this kind of slag.

Ironhide, Will agreed, and wouldn't the dark mech just be overjoyed to know he was being bargained away like a slab of beef. In return, you won't try to take over. It doesn't matter if we're flying – we're supposed to work together, not play parasites. I can't fly? Fine, then teach me. You teach me to fly, and I'll teach you to put it to military use.

Another long pause, and then the feeling of acceptance from the Seeker, and Will waited for a moment but no objections followed.

Truce? he finally asked.

The Seeker hesitated, and then gave the impression of a mental nod. Truce.


---------------------------


Will came out of recharge feeling honestly rested and clear-headed for the first time in days. The Seeker was there but lingering in the background, thought-pattern merging with his own rather than trying to take over by force, and the stress of trying to stay in control was gone, too, and with it a lot of tension he hadn't even been aware of. It took him a moment to comprehend that fact, and a moment longer to discover that Ironhide was silently watching him, sitting on the neighbouring berth.

The Seeker purred in the back of his mind and Will hesitated as he tried for the first time to really see the weapon specialist as the Seeker saw him.

Strong. Stubborn. Unflinchingly loyal. Will knew that much, already. Bearings of chrome steel and the ability and willingness to take shots that could have killed a smaller mech and still take on Megatron with relentless brutality. Not news, either.

Strong, the Seeker whispered in his mind, and he let it come to the forefront of his awareness as he tried to see through its eyes.

Gleaming black bearing the scars of countless battles that even the best of Ratchet's work couldn't remove completely; battles fought and survived, won or lost; scars earned in the defence of what he believed in, an unbreakable oath he had honoured unflinchingly through it all.

Old – ancient – and the very feel of it penetrated the air in a way that made him wonder how he had never noticed before. Older than human civilization, older than entire species, older than anyone on base save perhaps their medic, and he made even Optimus Prime look like little more than a sparkling in comparison.

He fought brutally because that was how war had been, with no room or time for flashiness or showing off; intimidating like Megatron himself if he really wanted to be and ruthlessly efficient in a way that probably wasn't entirely Autobot approved at times, and it suddenly made sense to Will.

The Seeker wanted a mate, someone to spark its offspring, and Ironhide had proved his strength, his loyalty, and his protectiveness and will to survive, and no slagging wonder the thing was completely taken with him, and it wasn't just the Seeker watching the dark mech with admiration this time.

Gleaming black plating, the smooth curves of devastatingly lethal cannons, and the Seeker purred again and didn't object too much when Will kept the heating fans from starting up. Maybe it was satisfied that he was starting to see its point of view and didn't really need the fans anymore, and maybe it was another thing to thank Ratchet for, and whatever it was, he appreciated it.

Mate.

And Will could probably live with that, he realised, as Ironhide arched what passed for an eyebrow on a mech and Will noticed for a moment that the mech's self-control was strong enough to keep anything from slipping through their bond. Ratchet had probably had a talk with him, too.

“Lennox?”

He had been staring, Will suddenly realised as well, and he shrugged slightly. “Just thinking,” he said, which wasn't entirely a lie. Just... leaving out select bits of the truth, because like slag he was going to tell Ironhide what he and the Seeker had agreed on.

Ironhide just nodded at that. “How's your head today?” he finally asked.

Good question, actually, and he paused to consider it.

“Better,” Will answered after a moment. “We... worked things out.”

Ironhide nodded again and watched him like he wasn't quite sure if Will was telling the truth, and Will stayed still as he let the mech take whatever time he needed. He had been acting strange with the Seeker in charge, after all. In Ironhide's place, he would have been worried, too.

“Ratchet said you're free to leave. You just needed to rest,” Ironhide finally said, then paused, still not looking completely convinced. “If you feel up for it, your new alt-mode arrived.”

It was all he needed to say, all they needed to hear, and bright optics lit up in brilliant blue fire as Will and the Seeker spoke as one.

“Show me.”


---------------------------


He let the Seeker stay almost at the front of things as they made their way through the base. It was the first time he had really let himself see people's reactions to him as anything but a source of annoyance, and to see it from the Seeker's point of view was... interesting.

Startled glances from the humans they passed, a natural wariness from being around an unfamiliar mech that looked anything but harmless and more than a few frowns from the small crowd who knew enough to recognise a Seeker on sight, and the presence in Will's mind purred.

The mechs were more used to him, and the looks he got from those weren't wary in the slightest but ranged from curious to thoughtful to downright appreciative – and not just for the military asset he represented – and it was really no wonder Seekers were so arrogant. Not when everyone had that reaction to him.

The Seeker part of him preened, enjoyed every bit of attention they drew, and Will let it as they approached an undamaged runway with Ironhide leading the way, and an instant later the Seeker's preening abruptly stopped as their new alt-mode came into view.

Sleek, lethal, state-of-the-art, and even Will could appreciate the curves and lines of the jet that waited silently on the runway.

Perfect, he whispered in his mind, and Ironhide gave him a glance as an echo of their emotions slipped through their tentative bond.

The Seeker purred its silent agreement, and then they reluctantly turned their attention to Optimus Prime as he approached, and Will barely had time to realise that the graphic images that usually appeared around their Prime were gone and the heating fans stayed silent without any help from him, and then his superior was in front of him and he snapped to attention.

“Sir.” He straightened and was almost eye-to-eye with their Prime as the mech gave them a considering look.

“Ratchet mentioned that he had a... talk with you yesterday.”

“Yes, sir,” Will answered, and pushed aside the thought that wondered just how much Ratchet had shared with their Prime. Most of it, probably, if he had been smart, because Will was a Seeker and there was no guarantee Ratchet's threats would have been enough to keep that part of him reined in. “We... reached an agreement.” Take it one day at a time, he specifically didn't say, because hesitation wasn't an option. Ratchet's threats didn't matter in that particular regard. Seekers didn't respect weakness and the only way their truce would work without that constant threat of violence and deactivation was if Will proved to the thing that he wasn't going to back down.

Optimus Prime nodded.

“Very well. As Ratchet has cleared you for active duty again, you may scan your alt-mode.” A slight gesture at the jet, and Optimus Prime was forgotten again, because this was perfect, flawless, lethal grace, and every Seeker instinct in him sang their approval in wires and lines and processors.

A clawed hand reached out to gently – gently – touch one wing of the F-22, making the pilot waiting nearby shift nervously, and then Will took a step back and let the Seeker take over and scan the jet.

Data flooded his processors an instant later – height, length, wingspan, weight, speed, materials – and the data came together to give the image of what he needed and then he was transforming, a slight change of colour from the Cybertronian grey as plating responded first, and then he felt his body take itself apart to rearrange it all again in the still-unnerving transformation process, and then he was staring at the runway, fourteen feet shorter and with the sensations of a brand new alt-mode taking over.

Perfect, the Seeker agreed, echoing his first impression of the thing, and it didn't matter if it was an Earth-based jet. It was one of the best they could get on the planet, and if it was good enough for Starscream and his trine, Will couldn't find much to complain about.

A quick scan confirmed that he had gotten it right – a near-perfect copy of the F-22, with only the Autobot insignias and the NEST etchings marking him as anything but a normal jet.

Another second of admiring his new alt-mode, and then he realised something else – he had a cockpit. He'd need a pilot, or people would stare. The scan-ray reappeared, swept across the pilot's uniform, and the man yelped and took a step back, and Optimus frowned slightly.

You, the Seeker part suggested, like it was the most natural thing in the world, and Will only barely managed to stop it before a hologram version of his human self appeared in the cockpit.

No!

Confusion from the Seeker, not understanding his reaction at all, and Will sighed mentally. It wouldn't be fair to Sarah. She has enough to deal with without having a hologram around to remind her of me all the time.

The Seeker seemed to consider that for a moment, then brought up a new suggestion in their mind – very pretty and very young, Sam's age at the most, and Will sighed again.

Too young. We'd draw too much attention like that.

More confusion. We draw attention now. We are a Seeker. Implied: 'What's a little more?', and Will paused before he answered.

Compromise. The Seeker was young, so it went for a young hologram. The Seeker was vain, so it went for pretty as well, even if it was a slightly unnatural version of 'pretty' to Will's mind. Compromise, frag it, and if the Seeker was willing to try, he could slagging well do the same.

How about mid-twenties? he asked and didn't sigh this time.

The Seeker seemed to consider that for a moment, too, and then came the familiar feel of agreement as it brought up another suggestion – male, wearing a copy of the pilot's uniform, mid-twenties, brown hair, with echoes of what Will had looked like at that age... but almost painfully attractive, unnervingly so, and all arrogance and ruthless confidence, and Will nodded slowly and bit back his objections. He still wasn't completely happy with the faint resemblance in the physical features, but on the other hand he could appreciate the Seeker's attempt to acknowledge his presence as well, and considering what he knew of the Seeker... it was as nice a compromise as they could probably reach. That Seeker part didn't feel willing to tamper with the inhuman attractiveness of the hologram and it was a battle Will wasn't going to start.

All right.

The hologram flickered into existence and unnatural bright blue eyes focused on Optimus, and whatever else might be said about the Seeker, subtle and inconspicuous weren't on the list.

For long seconds, their Prime simply watched him and Will felt the Seeker part grow increasingly restless before the mech finally spoke.

“Can we expect a repeat of your last flight?”

The hologram straightened. “No, sir.”

Almost sulking from the Seeker at that, but it didn't flat-out argue. Even it was smart enough to realise that pulling another stunt like that was likely to get their collective aft grounded until the Pit froze over, because Prime knew he was unstable now and Will had every faith that Ratchet would step in again if needed.

A slow nod from their Prime, and then he gestured at the runway. “Stay within your alt-mode's intended limitations. To hide is useless if you cannot do it convincingly.”

The hologram sent the mech a wary look that seemed completely out of place in the arrogant features. “No other limitations, sir?”

Restricted to hovering the first time, restricted to Diego Garcia's airspace the second time, and he couldn't possibly mean-

“Ratchet kept me updated in regard to... recent developments,” Optimus Prime said quietly. “I trust you.”

Right, no pressure at all, then, and the Seeker part felt as confused as he did himself about it all, and he only barely registered the fact that the Seeker was looking to him for an explanation rather than taking charge itself.

Maybe he figured that since we worked our way around his orders, he might try this instead, Will said silently in response. I don't know. A pause. Can you stay within specs?

Sulking, annoyance, because why would a Seeker be bound by mere Earth-laws, but the answer still came almost instantly, even if it was an almost-sigh of petulant disappointment. Yes.

Thank you, Will said and pretended to ignore the flicker of surprise that followed and that he was pretty sure the Seeker hadn't intended him to pick up on. We can push the limits later, he added, with far more promise in those words than any of their comrades would have approved of. The F-22 was fast, but it was still a far cry from the near-Mach 3 the Seeker could pull when it dropped pretences, and they would be painfully aware of that when they took off.

Speed, g-forces, a hundred things to keep in mind, but at least it was flying, and everything considered, it was a lot more than Will could ever have hoped for and the Seeker silently agreed in his mind.

A final nod at their Prime, and the runway vanished underneath them in a roar of engine noise as five tons of alien F-22 took off, and then there was nothing but sky.


---------------------------


Three hours on and most of the crowd had found other things to do – voluntarily or through the encouragement of their superiors. Three hours on, and their Seeker was still up there, still carefully staying exactly within the limitations an Earth-built jet of the same kind would have had, and at some point Sarah Lennox had made her way from the hangar she had been watching from and to the place on the runway where Ironhide still kept an eye on things.

He had always been cautious of his human allies and Will Lennox's mate was no exception to the rule and he was aware of her approach long before she reached him. A fleeting feeling of guilt about things he could do nothing to change, and then he kneeled and held out a hand, and to her credit she only hesitated for fractions of a second before she made herself comfortable in the make-shift, dark metal seat and he stood up again.

“He's good, isn't he?” she said softly, watching the Seeker as it came into view and vanished again, playing tag with clouds and testing air streams with its new alt-mode.

“He is,” Ironhide agreed. Not that he had that much experience with Seekers that didn't involve shooting at them, but Will did seem to know what the slag he was doing. Will or that Seeker. Considering that he was still following orders, Ironhide had some hope that Will was still the one in charge.

Silence. Blue optics flickered to focus on the small human again, wondered briefly where their young offspring was, and then dismissed it as irrelevant. Mostly likely it was in the care of some other human on base, and it was perhaps for the better. The small human in his hand had enough to worry about as it was.

“Promise me something, Ironhide,” she said quietly, still watching the Seeker as it finally began to approach for landing, and Ironhide gave her a questioning look. “Don't let them take advantage of him,” she continued, quiet and unrelenting and hard as steel. “Your god took away everything that made him human. He enlisted when he was eighteen, against his parents' wishes. He's been army for longer than I've known him. It was his life, Ironhide, and your god took that from him. His life, his humanity, his home... every chance of ever having a normal life again. He's not even part of this planet anymore now. He may be yours now but nobody asked him what he wanted. That insignia on his wings doesn't give anyone the right to treat him as just another stupid military advantage, just because your god made sure he's got nowhere else to go.”

“He is a comrade in arms,” Ironhide frowned. “He is a warrior. To ask him to remain outside of battle-”

“I'm not,” the small human female bit out. “I'm not asking you to keep him out of battle. I'm asking you to keep them from going too far just because they have their own stupid jet now. I may not be married to him anymore, Ironhide. The papers might claim I'm a widow, and I might still have to tell Annabelle that her father won't be coming home, but I'm still going to fight for him. You people already took him from me once. I will make you regret it if you do it again. He didn't ask for this, and everyone else is too busy giving him flirty eyes to give a damn how his mind is doing. Promise me, Ironhide. You were his friend before. Promise.”

The roar of jet engines and their new Seeker touched down, a perfect imitation of a real F-22 as he still stayed within the rules he had been given, and something in Ironhide's spark twisted.

“I can't,” he finally replied, with real regret in the words. “I will try, and I trust Optimus Prime's judgement, but I cannot give you that oath.”

A soft sound from the human. “Good enough, then,” she said softly. “Thank you.”

Ironhide nodded slightly and up ahead the Seeker came to a halt and transformed to wait patiently as Ratchet approached. Post-flight check-up – you could never be too sure, and the Seeker part was still young. It never hurt to play it safe in cases like that.

“For what it is worth... you have my sympathies, Sarah Lennox,” he said quietly. “I will always welcome a new ally, but I have not forgotten the circumstances. Whatever happens, he will not be alone. I can promise you that.”

Sarah Lennox nodded and kept watching what used to be her husband as he complied with Ratchet's scans with far more tolerance than Ironhide expected a normal Seeker would have shown.

“I'll hold you to that,” she said, but she felt less tense as she rested in his hand, and it eased a bit of the troubled feeling he wasn't even aware he'd had about her reaction.

Silence fell again, and together they simply watched and waited in surprisingly comfortable companionship for Ratchet to be done with their new Seeker and release him for the day.


---------------------------


Thousands of miles away, Soundwave contacted his Lord exactly thirty-two Earth-minutes before scheduled and made Megatron put aside his datapad. It could be a new arrival, perhaps. Things had been quiet since their last fight with the pathetic little fleshling-lovers and he didn't expect anything to happen anytime soon, either, but perhaps... Ironhide. He had taken out the fleshling in charge of their human division, after all, and the two-legged cannon had been disgustingly protective of that squishie. He didn't think Prime would dare to go after them with thoughts of vengeance so close to his processors, but their weapon specialist had always been more Decepticon than Autoscum, anyway, and simply too cowardly to admit it.

“Report,” he ordered as the Communications Officer waited silently in orbit to be acknowledged.

“Autobot Seeker: located. Designation: unknown.” As calm and monotone as ever, and maybe that was why it took Megatron just a moment to realise just what he had said.

“Re-scan, Soundwave. Fleshling communications have scrambled your processors. There are no Autobot Seekers,” he snapped, and somewhere behind him, Skywarp tensed but continued his work without pausing.

“Confirmed. Processors: fully functioning. Autobot Seeker: located.” Still calm. Still monotone. Still impossible. The Autoscum had no Seekers left, and Soundwave made note of every new Cybertronian that arrived from space, whatever their loyalties. A quick scan revealed his own trine to be where they were supposed to, and even if they hadn't been... Soundwave would have known their designations. Those couldn't be hidden.

A moment of hesitation, and then he leaned back in his chair again, troubled. “Acknowledged, Soundwave. Keep an eye on it.”

“Soundwave: acknowledges,” the Communications Officer responded and the connection fell silent again as Megatron kept staring at the new data they'd received.

How the frag did you pull off that one, Prime?


---------------------------


According to Will's brand new processors, he had exactly half a second to realise he was slagged before he found himself on the ground, staring up into the cloudy afternoon sky of Diego Garcia as Ironhide came into view.

“And that's why you're going to learn close combat,” the dark mech drawled. “If you hadn't known human close combat, I might've let you off the hook, but knowing the wrong way to fight is even worse than not knowing anything at all.”

Which was true, Will had realised that the moment he had remembered – too late – that he wasn't human anymore and human close combat techniques wouldn't do a slag of good when you were taller than just about anyone and had wings to boot. Which was about a second before he found himself on the ground and the Seeker stunned into silence in the back of his mind. Oh, sure, Ratchet had manhandled it a little – or Seeker-handled, possibly, Will wasn't sure – but this was Ironhide, and Ironhide, according to Seeker-logic, was obviously not supposed to attack. It was mate, after all.

Will had ignored that and decided to let the Seeker keep sulking and refrain from explaining the facts of life to it until it had calmed down a little.

Ironhide was still watching him, then held out a hand, and Will grasped it and got back on his feet. Nothing serious showed on his damage reports – scratches, for the most parts, and a small dent near one hip – and then he groaned slightly as he realised something else. “Different balance, different weight, different hands, different built, different size... slag. I'm going to have to start over from scratch.”

We are a Seeker, the presence in his mind objected as the words made their way through its shock. This is not right.

Images of wings against concrete, scratches, dents, broken joints and shattered sensor nodes as the Seeker made its point, and Will really didn't care. Words wouldn't help, he knew that much, and so he shifted through memories of Mission City and latched on to the image of Megatron's Second in Command tearing through cars with what might have been called a lack of finesse, but still in a definite show of skills and strength.

Starscream learned, Will retorted. You can't count on always being able to fly away.

Silence from the Seeker as it retreated to sulk again, and Will turned his attention back to Ironhide.

“Seekers aren't programmed for this sort of thing. You've got wings for a reason, but I'm not sending you out there without a fragging good grasp of this,” the weapons specialist said and left no room for arguments. “You will learn, Lennox. The Seeker'll object, because those things will complain about anything that doesn't involve flying, and I really don't care. This is for its own good, even if it's too stupid to get it. You will report for training two hours a day, every day, until you get it right.”

Will straightened slightly and ignored the firm sulking from the presence in his mind. “Yes, sir.”

And while it sucked to have to start over, at least there was something familiar about ground-based fighting, and he could live with that.

He hoped.


---------------------------


Two hours later had him seriously reconsidering his initial estimate. Everything hurt, wings more than anything, and the Seeker part of him had gone from sulking to angry to frightened and then finally silent as it simply watched and let Will handle it all, a peculiar sort of morbid fascination starting to show near the end of their lesson. It wasn't real curiosity, but at least it was better than a running commentary whenever he found himself on the ground and at Ironhide's mercy again, and he had almost groaned when he had realised that not even two hours of getting their afts kicked was enough to keep the Seeker from responding to those particular situations.

Once, with Will on his back and Ironhide pulled down with him in a last-ditch attempt to get even, the heating fans had even turned on, and the Seeker had at least had the good grace to feel vaguely embarrassed at that.

Strong, it murmured in response to Will's bewildered thought directed at it. Dominant. Control.

Will had ignored that, too, along with Ironhide's smirk, and gone right back to getting his aft kicked like he was supposed to, Seeker instincts be damned. He might not be programmed for it but stubbornness could do a lot, anyway, and two hours later had him slowly and painfully grasping the beginnings of Seeker-style close combat, and a whole new appreciation for his instructor.

It had been different as a human. Every single one of the Cybertronians were big when you were human, even Arcee and her sisters, and relative size had never really been that much of a worry to Will. When dealing with 'Cons, it didn't matter if you were dealing with twenty or thirty feet of mech. You'd be equally dead if they stepped on you, and at most the smaller ones might be only slightly easier to take out. It was different as a Seeker. Ironhide was significantly smaller than him now – everyone was, save for Optimus – and he had at least a ton on the dark mech. It didn't change the fact that Ironhide consistently had him on the ground in seconds, and it was only as a mech that Will really started to realise just how good his instructor was. He had always known Ironhide was damn fast and damn competent, but he'd never had the perspective to let him realise just how dangerous the mech was even without his cannons to help. Seekers weren't programmed for ground-based fighting, but it didn't change the fact that he was still taller and heavier than Ironhide and had reflexes to match the breakneck speeds he was capable of now.

Ironhide wasn't just competent, Will realised as the mech called an end to the lesson and helped Will back on his feet. Ironhide was built and programmed for war. It wasn't luck that had let Ironhide become one of the oldest surviving Autobots around that Will knew of. It was skill combined with ruthless brutality when necessary, and not for the first time that day he wondered how many Seekers the mech had been up against in battle.

“You're a Seeker but you're not completely useless on the ground,” Ironhide finally said and let go of Will's arm. “You've got Seeker instincts working against you, but that human part knows what it's doing. Listen to it. It's got it right.”

Will nodded and subconsciously flexed his wings, testing for damage he was surprised to find wasn't there at all. The wings were obviously a lot less fragile than the Seeker believed... but then, that did make sense. A Seeker was nothing without its wings. Protecting them would be first priority, whether that protection came from programmed concern from the Seeker or a wing-construction that was a lot more durable than it gave the impression of.

Some stunned sensor nodes and scratched paint, but the rest of the damage was all on his body rather than the wings, and he ignored the silent sulking of the Seeker in the back of his mind. Annoyed, probably, that it hadn't been right in its doomsday scenario about learning that stuff.

At least the graphic images were mostly gone and the ones that remained were focused solely on Ironhide, and it wasn't until he'd had most of a day to think clearly that he really noticed how much of his mental strength had been taken up fighting the various aspects of the Seeker.

It was trying to adapt to him now. It was honest-to-Primus genuinely trying to compromise and the realisation left Will baffled. It was a compromise made under threat of extreme measures, but it was still a compromise and it was clearly trying even when Will himself was struggling with giving up any bit of his humanity in return.

Clawed fingers flexed as he watched them, still not completely used to the sight, and then he looked up again and finally asked the questions that had been lingering at the edge of his processors since Ratchet had given him the all-clear after his earlier flight.

“How is Sarah?” Quiet, unsure – and didn't that sound completely wrong from a Seeker – but the presence in his mind was as quiet as Will felt, uncertain worry and a distinct feeling of wrongness from being separated from someone it liked, and underneath it all, a clumsy attempt at understanding the difference between Will's pain and the feelings the Seeker itself went through, and Primus, but the thing was trying. Clumsily, uneasily, but trying.

Ironhide hesitated slightly, almost too shortly to register at all, and then led the way as they slowly made their way towards their base again. “She is strong.”

Which Will knew, and slag it, it wasn't what he asked. On some level he could understand what they were doing. The Seeker was young and inexperienced and very likely to forget that humans were fragile, and Will, however much he might try, was still off-balance and unsure about everything and going from one end of the emotional spectrum to the other in the blink of an eye, all depending on how much control the Seeker and the human had respectively. On some level, he could even appreciate it. He was unstable, mentally and otherwise, and Sarah deserved to talk to someone who wasn't a basket-case in the making, and even if that wasn't an issue, they could probably both benefit from time to actually come to some degree of acceptance about what had happened before they talked.

Most of him, though, was torn between impatience and restlessness and worry and bone-deep guilt, and all he wanted was to see her without Ironhide or Ratchet standing guard in case anything happened, talk to her without an audience, and give her the freedom to react in whatever way she had to, without trying to keep it buried because someone was watching and it was private stuff that even Ironhide wasn't going to be privy to. They had to talk, face to face, because that was the only right way to do it.

She had left the runway again by the time Ratchet had finished Will's check-up, and Will understood. They needed to talk, and being so close and still unable to share a single sentence without having someone standing right next to them as a precaution was just a painful reminder of the restrictions still put on Will more than it was actual comfort in the presence of someone loved.

And his emotions were probably showing through the bond with Ironhide, but it wasn't something he was willing to rein in and he doubted he would really be able to if needed, and if the mech noticed anything, he didn't let it show.

“How long?” Will finally asked, and Ironhide didn't need to ask what he meant.

“Ratchet's decision.” He paused, and there was a hint of regret in his voice and body-language. “It's improving, I'm told.”

Improving. Which really told Will nothing more than it was heading in the right direction, and gave him no actual useful knowledge past that, and the Seeker in his mind stayed very, very silent, and Will couldn't even bring himself to blame it for their instability. It was young, it was confused, it had been put in an entirely new world, and it had no experience with life whatsoever. It ran on core programming. Blaming it would be like blaming an overly-enthusiastic puppy for being clumsy. It wasn't its fault. Whatever other faults Seekers had as a build, it really meant no harm. Whatever other faults it had, it wasn't its fault that they had all had to learn from scratch and do their best through guesswork because there was no recordings of anything like it ever happening before, and even Ratchet had to learn the hard way as things progressed.

He needed to talk to Sarah, and she wasn't the only one, either. The rest of the humans had been kept away, too. He hadn't been closer to an actual human being than thirty feet since he had woken up as the completely wrong species, and even that had been Sarah and had also been enough to make Ironhide visibly tense. The rest... Epps was probably ready to tear his head off for making them worry and not being able to exchange more than a few words with them before being dragged off again for check-ups or training or for security reasons, Sam was probably pacing a hole through the floor based on Bumblebee's behaviour, and he tried really, really hard not to think about his tiny daughter who had grown up so fast and whom he wasn't sure he would ever be comfortable being close to again in a body as large and dangerous and intimidating as his new one. Adults, at least, had some degree of common sense. Three-year-olds didn't, and even if she did, there was still the question of whether it would be fair to her at all. He needed to talk about that with Sarah, too. Daddy was on a mission, that was the excuse so far, but sooner or later that excuse would run out and they'd have to make a decision, and his spark twisted painfully at the knowledge that it might just be the easiest thing for everyone to write William Lennox off as dead and keep the truth tightly under wrap. Sarah could keep a secret. So could NEST and Sam.

His emotions must have been painfully clear through the bond, because a moment later he felt a tentative presence at his end of it, followed by emotions that were far more soothing that he had imagined their weapons specialist capable of. He tensed for a moment, not sure about it at all, and then let the emotions flood his processors and chase away the worst of the darkness and felt the Seeker murmur soothingly in response.

Ironhide kept walking, not skipping as much as a beat, and Will slowly released the worst of the tensions in his frame. Part of him felt guilty for trying to make reality just go away, but the larger part of him knew that it was probably for the better. It was limited how much you could deal with at a time before it all just collapsed around you.

“Thank you,” he finally said quietly, and Ironhide put a hand on his arm, and Will was almost too preoccupied to notice the lack of little electric charges at the touch. Almost. They had been missing all day, and he really, really owed Ratchet a gift-wrapped stack of high-grade for stepping in the way he had.

Ironhide didn't speak and Will didn't answer, and together they made their way towards the hangars again in comfortable silence as the Seeker purred quietly in the back of his mind.


---------------------------


“They seem to have worked out some sort of a truce for the moment,” Ratchet reported to his Prime later that evening, after finishing the last check-up of their Seeker for the day. Seekers weren't as fragile as they looked, but Ironhide had a very hands-on approach to teaching and there was no need to risk anything. As expected, there had been only minor injuries and Ratchet had fixed what needed to be and then sent him away again. He knew there was something Will wanted to ask, knew there was something gnawing on his processors, but their new Cybertronian had stayed silent and Ratchet hadn't asked. There was any number of questions it could be, but Will would ask when he was ready and Ratchet wasn't going to push him.

“They did stay within the limitations of their alt-mode,” Optimus Prime agreed but his voice still had a worry in it that had become familiar to Ratchet over the last few days whenever the topic turned to their new Seeker. “Exactly within specifications, in fact.”

“But they obeyed orders, in both letter and spirit,” Ratchet pointed out. “They reached a truce. I had a talk with it. I've dealt with Seekers before, Optimus. I do have some experience with them and I made sure it understood the situation. They obeyed their orders for the full three hours and didn't once try to find any loopholes. That's not the Seeker at work, that's Lennox. He was special operations before NEST claimed him. Being competitive is in their nature.”

Optimus Prime nodded and seemed to consider that. “Do we have any idea of the nature of that truce?” he asked, just a bit dryly. “I'm not blind, Ratchet. I noticed he didn't have to spend part of his focus today on not letting the Seeker show its mating displays.”

Ratchet's optics shuttered in an imitation of a human blink of surprise. “You're familiar with them?”

It wasn't common knowledge outside of the Seekers' own personal circles, hadn't even been particularly common knowledge even in some medical circles, and certainly not in Autobot circles after the War had really started in full and with the majority of the Seekers on the Decepticons' side.

There was gentle amusement in Optimus Prime's voice as he answered, probably reading his surprise as easily as a data transfer. “We weren't always at war, Ratchet. There was once when a Seeker was not necessarily a likely enemy.”

Ah.

Ratchet blinked again in bemusement and then politely changed the topic. The time before the War was a painful topic to most mechs, and while he didn't know if the same was the case with his Prime's experiences with Seekers, there was no need to risk anything for the sake of simple curiosity. “Based on his behaviour around Ironhide, I strongly suspect that part of their truce involves him. He controls himself well, but there were signs that those mating displays were still present around Ironhide.” He paused, then shrugged. “As long as it keeps the human part in control, I'm willing to give them the benefit of doubt. The Seeker part is strong and it's better for all involved that human and Seeker reach an agreement on their own rather than have an outside force push it on them. For the moment, it seems stable. If it continues like that, I would be willing to let him move around unsupervised soon. Him and his human bonded are both growing restless and worried. It would be good if he could be trusted around humans soon, for him as well as them.”

“I concur,” Optimus agreed, as Ratchet had expected he would. “Anything else?”

“Beyond the fact that there is nothing at all like this in any sort of medical records and we're essentially learning as we go along?” Ratchet said dryly. “It's unfamiliar ground to all of us, but we're trying. There will be compromises, about quite a few things. Seekers weren't intended for ground-based combat, but the human part seems strong enough to force it to learn, anyway, and with some luck an un-Seeker-like activity such as that will strengthen the human side. On the other hand, he will most likely never be able to fly with the same reckless abandon as true Seekers. Even if he gave over control to the Seeker side completely, there would most likely always be that small piece of human self-preservation arguing with the more death-defying stunts.”

He hesitated, then continued. “He is good, Optimus, but he will never truly be on par with Megatron's Seekers. Starscream has no equal, Skywarp has his teleporting abilities, and Thundercracker would not be in their trine if he could not keep up with them to some degree. Lennox will argue with that point, because he's a Seeker now and they hate admitting weakness, so I'm telling you now, Prime. However skilled he might look from the ground, he's still going to come out second best if he ever goes one on one against one of the real Seekers.”

Ratchet fell silent and their Prime nodded slowly as he considered the warning. It wasn't one Ratchet was happy to have to give – Seekers were useful, but Seekers also had a remarkable arrogance and lack of common sense and the complete inability to face their own weaknesses sometimes – but it was a warning that was uncomfortably necessary. The human NEST teams all had the ability to disregard their own safety when needed, because no one sane really wanted to sign up for a job like that, but it also meant that there was no real leash on the Seeker. Even if Lennox knew the limitations of his new body when pitted against genuine Seekers, there was a very real risk that he would disregard those limitations if he felt the situation called for it.

“Your warning has been noted,” Optimus Prime finally said, quiet and serious, and Ratchet nodded in acknowledgement, because there was nothing else he could do. He had passed on the warning, and while he strongly hoped said warning would never be necessary, endless years of war had taught him better. Desperate times sometimes called for desperate measures and they would need every mech in the field. All they really could do was stress the danger of the Seekers to Lennox and hope that even if he chose to disregard the warning, one of them would be around to order him to stand down if he did anything too unnecessarily dangerous.

“I'll keep an eye on him tomorrow,” Ratchet said and changed the topic again. “If he still looks stable, I will let him interact with the humans on base again. Other than that... nothing. His scans look good, his Energon levels are kept within recommended ranges, and even Ironhide's lesson didn't rattle anything in his processors. Physically speaking, he is in perfect condition.”

“Good news, at least,” Optimus said wryly. “To be completely honest, I had started to question the wisdom and kindness of Primus in this, however much I appreciate another comrade to fight on our side in this war.” He sighed before he continued, another habit picked up from exposure to humans, and then shook his head slightly. “Keep an eye on both of them. From what you have told me, the Seeker meant no harm. Hopefully, they will work this out on their own. If not...”

He trailed off and Ratchet picked up before his leader could do so himself.

“If not,” the medic interrupted, his voice deliberately harder than needed, “I will favour the human. I know they both deserve the chance to exist but if it comes to that, I will favour the human. He has proven himself. The Seeker hasn't.” A pause, enough to see the slight shift in his leader's stance, guilt and relief obvious if you knew what to look for, and Ratchet continued in a kinder voice. “I am your Chief Medical Officer, Optimus, and in this case, the choice is mine. He is my patient. You make enough hard decisions on our behalves already. Let me make this one for you.”

Optimus Prime nodded, silent gratitude in the motion, and Ratchet snorted slightly. “Now that that's settled... go recharge before you collapse on your feet. You've worried too much the past days. It shows. That's my order as your CMO, too.”

And with a sharp nod in greeting, Ratchet turned and left before his Prime could object. There were still things to be done, still questions to be answered, but it was heading in the right direction, at least, and that was good enough for now.


---------------------------
(interlude 1: Ironhide)

Contrary to common belief, not all of Ironhide's processing power was spent on his weapons systems. You had to be smart to survive on the battlefield, because the femme Luck was fickle and only followed you for so long before someone else caught her optics and you were left surrounded by enemies and with no backup in sight.

It was one of the reasons that had made him accept the then-human Major as a comrade in arms in the first place, despite his small size and the fragile nature of his species. He was lucky – he had to be to survive not only the attack in Qatar and being hunted by Scorponok, but the mess that had been Mission City and his attack on Blackout as well – but luck had not brought him and his men from the destroyed base and back to the human's native country with the information they carried. Luck had helped, but most of it had been skills and relentless determination, and Ironhide could respect that. 'Will' was a fitting name for the small new ally Ironhide had found himself with after the battle against Megatron, and he had been pleased when said ally had been put in charge of the human part of NEST. It was someone tried and tested in battle, and Ironhide could respect that, too.

That humans were fragile compared to Cybertronians had been painfully clear from the start. They were determined to fight for their planet and did it quite well, too, but it came at a high cost for them. It didn't stop them, but it was something that all of the Autobots kept in mind. Ironhide had always known that it was true for all humans, that his small ally was no different and that fighting at their side would be very likely to end up getting him killed someday, but over time he had stopped worrying about it quite so much. The Major was skilled, his team was skilled, they had learned each others tactics and quirks, and the femme Luck seemed to keep a consistent optic on him. There had always been the risk, of course, but it hadn't been at the forefront of his processors the same way as it had in the first months. It had been an acknowledgement of a fact, like Arcee and her sisters' relative vulnerability, and nothing more. It was a credit to said human's skills that Ironhide simply acknowledged the fact of his relative fragility and still trusted him to stay safe.

It hadn't been until the last few seconds before the explosion and the too-late warning from inside the building that Ironhide's processors had caught up with reality and the theoretical fact of human fragility became sudden, spark-chilling knowledge, too late to do anything but watch as metal and concrete exploded and the structure came down with a rumble that was felt more than heard through the chaos of the battlefield.

He had finished the battle with brutal efficiency after that. There would be nothing to salvage but bodies – not many of them, either, because Primus damn it all, that was why the human had been in there in first place, and the building had been all but cleared of both civilians and all NEST personnel but one by the time it came down – but it hadn't mattered to Ironhide. Cold fury in his spark, he had ignored Ratchet and Chromia and even his Prime. Nothing to salvage but bodies, and in the case that really mattered to Ironhide, not even that. Humans were a foolish species, too, and had yet to learn that some alien technology should be left alone. The explosion had originated from the laboratory, and Lennox's sharp warning had come from the same location. Logic told Ironhide that there would be nothing left to find, and he had obliterated one of the few remaining fragments of the building in helpless anger. He didn't know why Lennox had gone back inside, didn't know what had been important enough to run a risk like that without backup, and it didn't matter, either. The femme Luck was fickle, and Ironhide would gladly have torn out her spark if he could for abandoning the human when he needed her most.

It had been Ratchet who had picked up the presence of a spark and Optimus Prime and Ironhide who had helped the medic force aside the heavy pieces of broken concrete to reach the Cybertronian buried underneath. They had thought it was Starscream or one of his trine at first, until a disturbingly familiar Autobot insignia had come into view, and while Ironhide's processors recalled with perfect clarity what had followed, it was still something they had problems dealing with.

The Seeker, Energon levels at critical and in desperate need of a recharge, had asked for Ironhide in perfect, flawless, familiar English, and Ironhide had done the only reasonable thing he could: He had frozen and stared, like the Earth-deer caught in the headlights of a vehicle, and had stayed that way as Ratchet worked, only moving when the medic ordered him to get his aft in gear and help lift the Seeker.

Things had only turned increasingly strange after that. The hows and whys of the situation nobody had any idea of. Lennox himself couldn't offer an explanation, either, and Ironhide had been a lot more relieved than he had been willing to show when Ratchet had confirmed that it was indeed their supposedly-dead human in the Seeker body and not some freak sort of Earth-influence that had caused the thing to speak human-style English and ask for Ironhide.

Some things made sense, they had found in the days that followed. Most things didn't. A brand new spark wouldn't have known how to fly so well, but it came instinctively to Lennox. On the other hand an adult Seeker, from what Ratchet had told him in a private moment, should have had more control of its core programming than Lennox currently had. It wasn't a sparkling but it clearly wasn't completely mature, either, and Ratchet had finally admitted defeat. He could help the human part stay in control to some degree, but where the thing had come from in the first place and why Primus had chosen to do it like that, they'd have to ask him themselves, and Ironhide hoped it would be a long time before any of them got the chance to do that.

With Lennox finally in recharge after their training session and Ratchet's check-up, Ironhide had retreated to analyse the information he had gathered over the course of the day, from the flight to their training and their talk, and he was slowly, cautiously, starting to believe that Lennox was telling the truth when he said the Seeker and him had reached an agreement. It had clearly been the Seeker in control the day before, but now... Lennox's control had slipped once or twice during their close combat lesson, but nothing even approaching what Ironhide had observed the first few days and the constant visible struggle to keep the Seeker from reacting to something as simple as the presence of someone stronger than itself. Something had reined in the Seeker, and while Ironhide wasn't sure exactly what their medic had done, he approved.

Even the bond felt different now. Less familiar Cybertronian and more... something else. The time after the first flight it had felt like a normal Cybertronian bond – less controlled because of the Seeker, with stronger emotions, but a normal bond. Now... less so. A constant, low-key presence as Lennox couldn't quite shut it off completely, but with a strange feeling to it that Ironhide assumed was the human influence showing. It was more controlled than the Seeker, certainly. He had wondered after Ratchet's talk just how much of Lennox's reactions to it all had been nothing more than the Seeker looking for a mate, but even with the human in charge the bond remained and Ironhide's cautious attempts at reassurance hadn't been blocked like he had initially suspected they would be.

Everything considered, Ironhide had finally decided, there was a real chance that Lennox had told the truth about that as well – that it hadn't just been the Seeker showing interest during that first flight, and Ironhide approved. Of course he had reached back when the Seeker had initiated the bond – it was a Seeker and Ironhide had always held a fascination with them – but that initial fascination had turned from the Seeker and to the human instead as their fight had begun in earnest. The Seeker was fascinating on a purely visual level, strong and dangerous and exotic to a ground-based mech, but the human was a comrade in arms and for the first time Ironhide found himself appreciating Lennox's traits as a mech rather than as a fragile, organic life-form.

The stubbornness and determination that fit so well with his name had been commendable in a human working with NEST, but it was only with Lennox as a Seeker that Ironhide had remembered how much of an attractive trait he considered it in a mech. Seekers were arrogant and vain, which was why Ironhide had preferred to admire them from a distance, but with Lennox in control, the Seeker had yielded and obeyed orders, and Ironhide had watched in fascination as a build of mech that was never intended for ground-based combat had nonetheless silently put up with two hours of relentless training in that very topic, and Ironhide didn't for a moment believe a proper Seeker would have done that.

Seekers were interesting by nature but Lennox was quickly becoming interesting to Ironhide for much more than simply his new build, and he reached out carefully to reaffirm the presence of the still-tentative bond before he retreated again, careful not to disturb the new Cybertronian's recharge.

You slagging well better be careful, Ratchet sent through their own bond, forged through aeons in battle together, and it was only then that Ironhide realised he had been transmitting to some degree. Of course you are. I can practically feel your processors creaking, the medic continued a bit annoyed and confirmed what Ironhide had already guessed. Shield, Ironhide. I know it's a unique situation, but the only excuse for forgetting to shield a bond at your age is senility. Is it time for a thorough medical exam, perhaps?

I can still slag your aft, medic, Ironhide rumbled, more annoyed with his own lack of attention than anything, and the amusement that followed the remark was well-deserved, too.

And risk the Seeker thinking you're interested in me instead? Keep in mind what I told you. There are two personalities in there. Make very, very sure the human side is interested, too. He sounded patiently amused, like explaining something to a youngling, and Ironhide made a grumbling sound through their bond, drawing a soft snort from Ratchet. Recharge, Ironhide. He's not the only one who needs it. Recharge or shield. Yes, he is attractive. I am aware of this. Stop keeping me awake because you need to overload.

And before Ironhide could come up with a suitably snappy retort, the bond went silent and Ironhide huffed.

Medics, he grumbled for good measure, and then sighed and surrendered. Annoying or not, said medic was right. Recharge it was.