Trials of a Seeker - tfanonkink - Ironhide/Will/Ratchet, part 2

[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.

Link to part 1




Will came out of recharge feeling grouchy. 'Grouchy' lasted for all of thirty seconds before his processors came back online completely, and then it rapidly went downhill from there. If he had been human, he would have called it a simple case of not being a morning person – which, granted, was unusual for him, but he was a Seeker now, and that could have explained it – but with a feeling of dread, he was starting to get the sinking realisation that his foul mood had another source.

His entire body seemed to hum, pent-up, excess energy straining against every single part of him, made lines and wires ache and sensors throb painfully, and he hissed instinctively as he stepped into sunlight, overly sensitive optics taking too long to adapt and processors making their displeasure known.

He felt like he was burning, consumed by energy that had nowhere to go, and he knew with painful certainly that he had been an idiot when he'd wondered if his bad mood the first few days had been because of Seeker-instincts demanding he interfaced with someone. It hadn't, and he knew that now. There was nothing he could mistake this for, and he shoved aside the graphic images before they could get a foothold, familiar images of Ironhide the day before, of Prime's strength and quiet dominance, of Ratchet's skills and ruthless ultimatum given to a graceful, lethal war-machine so much larger than the medic himself, and the buildings around them were closing in, shadows creeping closer as Will grasped for anything that could help him stay in control.

Confusion from the Seeker, impatience and demands and worry all in one, the need to fly, to fight, to 'face, anything to make the painful tension in his wings and his body and processors go away and Will shuddered instinctively.

Words and impressions rushing through their processors, mate, bonded, control, overload, make it stop, and he clenched still-alien hands tightly.

You're kidding, he told the Seeker, nearly desperate. Ratchet was kidding. Don't tell me your kind actually gets pissy if they don't get to 'face with someone. There are other ways to do this. I told you I agreed, we'll go after Ironhide, but I'm not going to jump him just because you have the self-control of a human teenager. You're a slagging Seeker. Tell me you've got more self-control than this.

Images; graphic, unwelcome, and sending systems further into overdrive, and then the clear feeling of the Seeker honest-to-Primus trying, reaching for alternatives and desperately trying to find something that worked, and the image that followed was more sensation than visual, spinning through endless sky with wind tearing at wings and tail and engines, faster than any human jet, and the Energon in his veins sang at the thought and the feeling that followed from the Seeker was sheer desperation.

Fly.

One word, all it had said to him on the topic so far, and even through relentless instincts demanding to be obeyed, it was trying to help.

Cooperation. Adaptation. Compromise. Slag it.

He keyed the communications line to their Prime before he could think twice and spoke before the mech could do anything more than acknowledge his presence.

“Permission to fly, sir?”

His voice sounded strained even to himself, a flood of emotions just barely kept in check as he set in every last bit of willpower he had to keep himself on the ground and level-headed until he got a response – and what would happen if that response was 'no' was something he wasn't going to consider unless it actually happened – and time stretched on forever, seconds turning endless as he could almost hear Optimus Prime frown on the other end and the Seeker screamed mentally and fought against restraints that could barely hold.

“Please, sir,” Will continued after seconds that felt unbearably long, and he knew he was uncomfortably close to pleading, knew it wasn't something he would ever have done before, but desperation took over, claustrophobia closing in even out in the open as hangars seemed to tower above him, and he shuddered subconsciously. Excess energy wrecking havoc with his processors and only two proven ways to get rid of it. “It's fly or find someone to jump, and I can't. Won't. Sir.”

Please.

He really had no dignity left at the moment and he'd slagging well beg if it got him off the ground and the chance to clear his mind, and their Prime had clearly come to the same conclusion as he responded after what felt like an eternity.

“Stay within one hundred nautical miles of Diego Garcia, and come down before you drop from lack of Energon,” Optimus Prime finally said, and if he had any reservations about it, he didn't let it show. “Go.”

And in a roar of powerful engines, Will was off, transformed mid-air and lost among the rain-clouds that covered the island as the temperature around him dropped and then there was nothing but a grey sea of rolling clouds below and endless, impossibly blue sky stretching out above him as he dipped, skimmed the top of the clouds and drew strands of them with his wings, and as Mach one became Mach two and kept climbing, Will knew he was home.


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


Thousands of miles away, Megatron had only half an optic on his datapad when Soundwave contacted him ahead of schedule again, gaining the instant full attention of his Lord before he even spoke.

“Report.” He suspected what Soundwave was contacting him about, because the Autoscrap had been unusually quiet lately, but he wanted confirmation before he would allow himself to get his hopes up.

“Autobot Seeker: located,” Soundwave reported, calm and monotonous as ever as he confirmed Megatron's suspicion. “Current position: outside reach of Autobot scrambling field.”

Images followed and showed the creature for the first time, recording taken from orbit and showing the jet from above – F-22, Megatron noted, like his own trine – and with markings that left little doubts about its loyalty. The Autobot insignia and the human NEST mark, and he felt disgusted at the sight of that on something so obviously sparked for the sort of freedom the ground-pounding Autoscum and their Prime refused to give the breed.

An Autobot Seeker, however baffling and disturbing the idea was, and this time it was outside the shielding that kept the enemy base hidden from even Soundwave's optics... which meant that the thing could be contacted, too. It was too far away to be reached without giving the Autoscum plenty of warning in advance, but communication wasn't easily blocked. Not completely.

Seekers listened to Seekers. They were hardwired to belong in trines and could be social to a degree uncommon to most Decepticons, even with Seekers outside of their trine if they felt a kinship with them. He could contact the Seeker and use the response to power that was hardwired in the build, too, to make the creature listen, or he could take advantage of the fact that the few Seekers on Earth were already his. Seekers listened to Seekers and Seekers listened to power, and however treacherous his backstabbing Second in Command was, he was also indisputably the most skilled Seeker of his generation – Megatron would not have put up with him otherwise – and a strong trine leader at that.

Starscream would shoot him in the back if given the slightest chance, but the Air Commander's disgust for the Autoscum far outweighed any feelings he had for his leader, and Megatron knew that, too. Seekers respected power, and Thundercracker and Skywarp were loyal to their Lord. Starscream was the exception to the rule, too vain and too arrogant to admit his place. If the Autobot Seeker was willing to take orders from Optimus Prime, of all people...

Another moment of thought, and then he opened a familiar frequency. The Autobot Seeker was too close to its base to be able to physically approach it without giving it time to retreat, but they wouldn't need to for now. For the moment, communications alone would be sufficient.

“Starscream. The Autobot Seeker has been located again. Find out who and what that thing is and how in the Pit Prime managed to claim it. Don't fail me in this.”

He didn't wait for a response but turned his attention back to his Communications Officer again, processors already at work considering the possible outcomes. “Soundwave, give him what information he needs and record their communication. Keep me updated.”

“Soundwave: acknowledges.”

And with only some slightly troubled thoughts running through his processors, Megatron leaned back in his chair and waited restlessly for things to be put into motion.


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


Will hit the one-hundred mile barrier with the roar of engines and an impossible turn as he twisted and went straight up, g-forces that would have crushed a human dizzying even to a Seeker, and then there was only sky above him as he climbed, tilted backwards and followed the dome of his one-hundred mile limit with perfect accuracy, going back and up and somewhere in his wake, he had left a bit of the pent-up energy, but it wasn't enough, never enough, and he pushed his engines further and shuddered as he found nothing more to give.

Faster, something whispered, himself or the Seeker and he wasn't sure, and it suddenly made sense that they needed to interface, because at this rate it would take all day to rid himself of the excess energy and an overload could have done it so much faster, and was the thought really that repulsive to him?

He shuddered again, spun to clear his mind and shake off a bit of that energy, and maybe it was the distraction that cause him to miss the little flashing icon the first few seconds it appeared.

A communication request on an unknown channel, and the world froze around him as he took a closer look, bad temper and strained processors forgotten as he ran on autopilot and could do nothing but stare at the icon that continued to blink insistently.

Unknown channel with no Autobot encryption. It could be a virus, could be any given one of a number of nasties, but Ratchet had made sure his 'protection' was up to date – and that term had made Will groan more than once – and after another moment of thought, he accepted the request. There was nothing on his radars and he was close enough to Diego Garcia to get back long before anyone could get close to him, and whoever might be behind the request, refusing it and not knowing at all would be even worse. Humanity had a well-developed sense of imagination, and Will was still human in some ways that counted.

The channel opened and the voice that followed should have been familiar but didn't sound it, and Will felt himself freeze again at the words, strong and demanding and with no room for arguments.

“Decepticon Air Commander Starscream to unidentified Seeker, negative six-point-two, seven-two-point-four. Designation and faction?”

Starscream, his mind repeated, frantic thoughts going through his processors, realising an instant later that the voice that was so grating on human ears held so much more to Seeker audio receivers, and he trembled as the Seeker part of his spark responded to the hail, fascination and respect and sheer, mind-numbing lust and he ruthlessly pushed it aside, helped by the sudden confusion that followed as the words really registered.

Designation, his mind repeated and the Seeker part stayed silent, and Will realised with a sudden chill that none of them had given it any thought at all. He was human and had refused an Autobot designation, and no one had asked the Seeker, and if creators gave their offspring a name when they were brought into the world and the Seeker came from Primus... it might not have been given one at all.

He halfway expected the Seeker part to take over in response to the Decepticon – to Starscream, whom the Seeker had fantasized about ever since they woke up in their new body – but instead there was uncertainty and hesitation and almost submissive respect, and Will realised a moment later that if he wanted to keep Starscream from noticing that the Autobot Seeker was, in fact, completely lost about the whole thing, he'd have to handle it himself. He wasn't going to show weakness to Starscream, couldn't afford to give any sign that anything was wrong and possibly make his family a target if the 'Cons found out what had really happened, and whatever else might happen with him being an alien robot now, he would do whatever he could to keep them safe.

He crossed his fingers mentally and then he responded and put every ounce of authority and unyielding determination he had in his voice.

“Decepticon Air Commander, this is Autobot Seeker, designation Will, under the command of Optimus Prime... as you'd know if Soundwave had done his job right. Get his optics checked, Starscream. My markings are clear,” he replied and let sarcasm show in his voice.

He felt the Seeker's uncertainty at having no other designation to give but Will's, but it was better than nothing, and they both knew that, too. The Seeker had translated it into Cybertronian in his mind even as he spoke – some complex glyph or another that his processors translated to stubborn/strong/dominant/unyielding – and it was better than an obvious Earth-name, at least, and there was the fraction of a pause and Starscream's silence sounded almost amused.

“Autobot Will,” the Decepticon finally responded, and made a sound that Will mentally translated as a snort. “An unfitting name for a pathetic piece of Autoscrap but appropriate for a Seeker, I suppose. Did you get your loyalties confused, Seeker? What are you doing with the Prime?”

The Seeker stirred, lingering images of the sheer power of being in the presence of Starscream and Megatron to underscore the Air Commander's words, clawed hands grabbing roughly, twisting wings, making him obey through sheer power and strength, and it took every last bit of self-control Will had to keep the nausea at bay.

“I've got processors that can focus on other things than flying and interfacing,” Will bit back, disgusted. “And I don't get a hard-on from getting squishy, organic bits between my toes.”

Laugher filtered through the channel, harsh and mocking, and as the human side started to take over more, Starscream voice sounded increasingly like it was supposed to – unpleasant. “So you obey them instead? You're unworthy of your wings, Seeker. I can feel your energy from across this planet. You have no trine, no sense of your worth, not even an interface partner to release your tension and worship your wings as they should be. The Prime deserves no Seeker on his side. Megatron came back with wings himself, Autobot Will. He understands the lure of the skies. The Prime never will. He will cage you and bind you to the ground-pounders until your wings grow lifeless and vanish into nothing.”

One hundred nautical miles, Will's mind whispered, unbidden, and the Seeker shuddered at the restriction. It was for their own safety, Will knew that, the Seeker knew that, but it didn't change the sudden feeling of a leash around his neck when all he wanted was to fly, fly until the world ended, until sky turned to space and there was nothing between him and the stars but endless darkness, and Starscream continued at the sound of his silence.

“You know I speak the truth, Seeker,” he stated, and the voice had become fuller, more alluring again, strength and control and dominance, and the images rose again as well, unwanted and disturbingly appealing and Will could do nothing but listen as aeons of experience demanded his obedience. “I am the Decepticon Second in Command, Air Commander of the Lord High Protector's army, leader of Lord Megatron's first-among-trines, and I offer you freedom if you are enough of a Seeker to dare claim it. When you tire of the Prime and the ground-pounders, the offer stands.” Energy crackled and Will spun desperately, threw himself into a series of manoeuvres that would have killed any human, and Starscream knew, because the words that followed were dark velvet and touched against every sensitive bit of Will's processors, and then the Air Commander laughed.

“Hail the true children of Primus!”

An instant later the connection was cut, and energy danced across wings, across engines and tail and left icy cold behind, and Will continued straight up, put every last bit of energy he could grasp into the engines and desperately tried to keep his last, weak grasp on their combined self-control.

He wasn't going to let it control him. He was a Seeker, but he was also William Lennox, and they were Pit-be-damned stronger than this.

You can outrun anything, Will bit out at the Seeker who had stayed quiet in the back of his mind and felt it stir in response to the challenge. Prove it.

Engines suddenly screamed, alien metal trembled under the relentless assault of sheer force, and warnings appeared in Will's processors but he ignored them and trusted the Seeker, and even as the warnings continued, his body withstood and the Seeker was nothing more than brilliant, vibrant joy-

- And twenty-eight miles above Diego Garcia, five tons of alien jet hit Mach three.


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


The summon by Ratchet to get his aft back on the ground had not been a polite request, and Will was not surprised to find the medic waiting on the out-of-use runway when he landed, anger fairly radiating from his tense stance. He had known about the warnings Will had ignored, of course. Will had remembered that his systems were still set to offer regular updates on his condition to the medic about five minutes too late, when he'd already hit a speed he wasn't made for and the first damning databursts had already been transmitted.

His entire frame hurt and his engines felt like the armour covering them was too tight to really fit as they responded to the intense heat of the flight, and his landing was a lot less graceful than it could have been, tarmac cracking as he landed on his feet at entirely too high a speed and with a roar of engines that could probably be heard over most of the island.

His systems still hummed from pent-up energy, if less than before he took off, and he was still fighting a vague feeling of distinctively human nausea in his processors at the memory of Starscream and his effect on Will's new Seeker body, and he offered an explanation in an almost-steady voice before anyone could ask.

“Starscream contacted me. They know about me and want me on their side. I told them to stuff it.” Told them, with as much conviction as he could have managed at the time, and he added a databurst of the recorded conversation to Optimus Prime and Ratchet as little more than an afterthought, to let them have the full image. Another moment and some actual thought involved from his still-clouded processors, and then he added the same databurst to Ironhide and Sideswipe because slag it all, he had nothing to hide and they might find something in it that Will had missed, and if there was a small voice in the back of him mind that added and they'll know there's a real risk you might be a danger someday and will be ready to act if it happens, it was only common sense. Ironhide would take the shot if needed, he had already promised as much, and Sideswipe hated 'Cons more than any of them did. It would probably hurt like slag at his hand, but it'd be fast and much better than the thought of one day turning on his friends.

Only a slight narrowing of optics in a frown gave any indication of Optimus Prime's feeling on the new development, and then he nodded, a flicker of optics directed at the medic at his side before they returned to Will. “There will be a full debriefing after Ratchet has given you the all-clear. Dismissed.”

Ratchet was in front of him an instant later, twenty feet of ground-bound mech easily staring down thirty feet of Seeker, and even through the hum of energy, Will still felt the Seeker in his mind flinch at the glare directed at them. “Infirmary, Lennox. Now.”

Will followed quietly as Ratchet turned and led the way, and in the back of his mind, the Seeker stayed equally silent and didn't argue. They were probably toast, Will realised, but it had been worth it. He could think again – not clear-headed by any stretch of imagination, but he could think again, and that was a lot more than could be said for the situation when he had first woken up that morning.

Pain, whispered the Seeker, clearly still remembering its experience with the medic. Anger. Hurt, it added, worried, and Will steeled himself and felt the Seeker draw a bit of strength from that as well.

Pain, it repeated, if a bit less worried, and Will raised his head slightly.

Worth it, he said, and together they followed Ratchet to the infirmary.


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


The walk to the infirmary happened in silence, and it didn't escape his notice that the tense anger remained in Ratchet's stance as he directed them to a bed once they stepped inside, uneasiness fairly radiating from the Seeker in his mind. Will had never feared Ratchet – respected him, certainly, but never feared – but right now he could almost understand the feelings from the Seeker, the sudden feeling of the snake and the mongoose and the realisation that being the stronger wouldn't help him now if the medic decided to strike.

“Who was in charge?” Ratchet asked flatly and made the Seeker tense in Will's mind, watching the medic with wary optics.

“I was.” Unhelpful but true, and Will continued at the glare he got in return. “The human,” he clarified. “I thought you were exaggerating about Seekers needing to interface. I owe you an apology. You were right. I woke up with it this morning feeling like I'd have jumped anything that looked even remotely interested and when I didn't want to go along with that, the Seeker suggested flying instead. We gave it a go, obviously. It didn't work very well, but it was better than nothing.”

Ratchet snorted, clearly unimpressed. “So you decided to see if you could hit Mach three.” Blue optics narrowed and this time even Will ducked his head slightly at the hard glare. “Starscream can keep up Mach three consistently because he was built that way. More importantly, Starscream can hit Mach three without damaging himself in the process. You're not made for the same speed as him, and if I ever catch you trying to do that sort of thing again without a valid reason, I will ground your aft until the end of the universe. Have I made myself clear, soldier?”

The voice was every drill instructor William Lennox had ever had and he responded instinctively, sitting up straight before he was even aware of it. “Yes, sir!”

Another long, hard glare, and then Ratchet brought out some unfamiliar tool or another and walked around the bed, and a moment later Will felt the medic start to work on his engines. He flinched instinctively at a particularly harsh sound of metal against metal but there was no pain to go with it, only an unfamiliar, uncomfortable numbness as his processors made him aware that the sensors in his engines were offline.

It was silent for long minutes as Ratchet worked and Will wasn't going to risk angering the medic further by making potentially stupid comments, and then finally the silence was broken by the sigh of intakes venting. “I don't know if that Seeker you're carrying around has reminded you, but a core instinct of the breed is to mate and spark. That excess energy is a way to ensure that the Seeker in question will seek out an interfacing partner or a more long-term mate, thus also ensuring an increased possibility of sparking an offspring.”

The Seeker listened silently in the back of his mind and he got the vague impression of curiosity from it, the Seeker used to obeying its instincts but having never actually wondered about the reasons for said instincts before.

Mate and spark, Will's mind repeated, turning Ratchet's words over as he considered them and realised something else with a sick feeling to his stomach.

“The Allspark's gone,” he quietly pointed out, and yes, it had taken them a while to realise the full consequences of the battle of Mission City, and years on he still hadn't stopped feeling bad about it. No Allspark, no sparklings, and there was nothing they could do now but slowly watch the end of the Cybertronian species.

“Yes,” Ratchet responded. “I know.” Another pause, and the sound of something metallic scraping against Will's engines. “Seekers are... unique. A breed of their own when you get down to it, I suppose. Seekers can spark. Primus knows why, and why no one else can, but that's how it is. They can spark and their instincts reflect it. We all have core programming that tells us that sparklings are to be protected, but in Seekers, that programming overrules most everything else in their processors, including their own spark and well-being. Factions don't matter. I suspect that even Starscream's trine would protect an Autobot sparkling if it was ever needed – certainly a Seeker one, at least.” He snorted softly. “Take it from its creator by force and raise it as a Decepticon, but protect it nonetheless, in what passes for it in their world.”

Something deep and instinctive stirred in Will's processors and the words didn't sit right with him. “Any Autobot would protect a kid,” he said. “never mind the species.”

“Not all Deceptions would,” Ratchet responded, very quiet and very serious. “Not even a sparkling born of their own faction. The Seekers would, but most Decepticons are not Seekers, and neither is Megatron. Having wings and the ability to fly does not make one a Seeker, nor does it imply the mech in question possess Seeker-instincts. Keep that firmly in mind when that Seeker in you becomes too tempted by Starscream's offers. Remind it what else it would be agreeing to, and perhaps it will be less tempted by it all.”

An unpleasant, unneeded reminder of just what sort of beings they were up against and Will suppressed an instinctive shudder as those same Seeker instincts responded to the thought as well, and he forced himself to change the topic before they could linger on the mental images. “I don't think it really knows what it wants,” he admitted, and the silent feeling of sulking he got from the Seeker was all the evidence he needed that he was right. “I don't think it really looks any further than just a mate. It's really attracted to Starscream because of what he is but forgets about the rest of the 'Cons. It's even a bit attracted to Megatron, and we know what sort of mech he is.” Clawed hands flexed and Will looked down at the still-alien part of him. “It'd probably be easier to just give in and go jump Ironhide, but my brain still sees me as married and interfacing as something really bizarre. It won't change in a week, and if I jumped 'Hide, anyway, you'd probably have my aft for doing it, and the Seeker would be completely in charge for the whole thing, and... that's not really fair, either, is it? To it or to 'Hide. We're supposed to be working together and adapting, and letting the Seeker deal with anything involving 'facing really wouldn't be fair to anyone.”

The sensors on his back came online again to the feeling of soreness in his wings and engines, but less than before, and Will almost didn't twitch when Ratchet began to look over his wings, a gentle kind of firmness in the motions that made Will suspect that Ratchet had more than a little experience with Seekers – and in more than just theory, too.

“My apologies,” Ratchet murmured, clearly distracted. “Your sensors need to be online for this. Let me know if any of them cause you pain. Seeker sensors are made to pick up on even minute changes in their surroundings, and while they are reasonably durable, you did push the limits of them.”

Will hissed a moment later as the words turned prophetic with a touch of one particular sensor near the base of his left wing, and there was a sudden, sharp pain as Ratchet used some small tool or another on the sensor, and then it was over again, as sudden as it had arrived.

“You caused your engines to heat up further than they were intended to. Some of that heat affected the sensors as well. It's usually not enough to matter, but the heat this time caused the metal to cool wrong around them. It only hurts when something comes into contact with it. Until then, there would be a dull tension at the most.” The tool moved again, targeting a different sensor, and his right wing tensed at the pain, the left one kept tightly in Ratchet's grip. “Keep this in mind next time you decide to ignore your warning displays.”

Another sharp stab of pain somewhere in his left wing and no, it wasn't a lesson Will was likely to forget any time soon, and he could almost appreciate the way Ratchet did it, blending firm reminders of Will's own stupidity with useful knowledge of his new anatomy in a way that would ensure Will might actually remember both parts of it.

“It was that or jump someone,” Will bit out as yet another sensor was identified and repaired, and then he sighed. His processors still felt clouded but not enough that he couldn't control it, and Ratchet's work only helped keep it in check. “Even if I wanted to do it the other way, I wouldn't know how. It's like flying – the Seeker's trying to teach me, but it's all instincts, and it's the same with interfacing. I get lots of graphic fantasies from it, but they're all bits and pieces of it, nothing solid. I wouldn't even know what to do, Ratchet. I'd be leaving the Seeker in charge for the whole time, and I don't think even it really knows what it's doing.”

Silence for long moments, broken only by the soft sound of metal brushing against metal as Ratchet kept working, and then the mech sighed as well. “You can't pull a stunt like this every time, Will. You're going to push it too far eventually, and it won't work. I can feel that the energy is still in your body. You may have gotten rid of the worst of it, but the rest will still remain. That's why Seekers get unpleasant to be around if they do not interface regularly. To constantly deal with that sort of stress on your body and processors was not something any of us were constructed for.” Another long pause and the clear impression that he was looking for the right words and then the medic continued. “Cybertronians as a species have quite a few less hang-ups and taboos in regards to interfacing than the human species does. I already gave you a lesson in basic Seeker programming. If you wish instructions in regards to interfacing from someone who has had actual experience with Seekers outside of the medical arts, I would not be averse to giving you that.”

Will froze under his hands, and Ratchet continued before he could object, hands never ceasing their careful, measured work. “I am aware the Seeker sees me as a potential mate, and I am also aware that you and it have apparently reached some sort of truce regarding Ironhide. I am offering this as your friend and medic, neither of whom wish to see you injured because you decided to follow Seeker instincts and interfaced with someone inexperienced with Seekers – which would be most Autobots currently here. As I'm sure you have discovered, Seekers enjoy rough interfacing, but the fact that you are sturdier than you look does not mean you are invulnerable, and Ironhide enjoys a rough 'facing as much as any Seeker does.”

Oh, Primus.

Will, to his credit, did not facepalm at that, although he did for a brief moment wish for any distraction – a Decepticon attack would do nicely, thank you – and then he groaned. “I'm not having this conversation. Please tell me I'm not having this conversation.”

A hard twist of something on his wings that drew a sharp gasp from Will at the flare of pain, and Ratchet snorted. “You're having this conversation. You're a Seeker now, Will. This is what you are. The best thing for both you and it would be to find a way to work together. You will never feel properly at home in a Seeker body without those same instincts to help you. You need at least that part of it still present, and to have that, you need to come to terms with the Seeker. I am not telling you to lie back right now and think of Cybertron. I am telling you that the offer of instructions is there when you have had time to consider the situation and if you decide that interfacing might not be quite as abnormal as your human side tells you. I am aware that adapting will take time. I am aware that your bonded mate remains an anchor to your human side. I am simply telling you that the offer stands.”

A genuine offer made out of honest concern, Will realised. Not because he was pretty or exotic or unique, but because Ratchet was honestly concerned and wanted to help in whatever way he could, and after a long moment Will nodded – slowly, hesitantly, but still a nod.

“I'll... keep it in mind.”

It wasn't flat-out refusal, at least, and for the moment that was the best he could do. Ratchet obviously knew the same, because he merely nodded slightly and silence fell again as he continued his work on the young Seeker-build that was already lost in thoughts.


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


Two hours later found that same medic in the presence of Optimus Prime, and one look at his leader told Ratchet he hadn't arrived a moment too soon. Of course he had taken a look at the recording of the conversation Will'd had with Starscream – Will's quick debriefing had only revealed so much, and the recording itself had shown so many more details that were all so very Starscream – and in some cases, so very much not, too. Mostly it had been pure Starscream, though, and that would always be bad news to an Autobot.

“I ordered him to recharge,” Ratchet reported. “He'll be able to attend a proper debriefing tonight. For now, he needs rest. Excess energy or not, reaching speeds you were not built for demands a lot of your body.”

“A wise precaution,” Optimus Prime agreed quietly. “He did not have any serious injuries from his flight?”

“Minor damage. Unpleasant for him but easily repaired.” Ratchet paused, took a good, hard look at his Prime, and changed the subject before the mech in question could object. “My opinion as your friend? The humans have a saying, Optimus. You're damned if you do and damned if you don't.”

“Megatron was always gifted with words. There was very little he couldn't convince a mech of if he had sufficient motivation to do so. He... understood what desires drove the beings around him. He understood how to use it to his advantage.” Optimus fell silent for a long moment, then continued. “Starscream learned well.”

“There's a reason why most of the Seekers joined the Decepticon cause,” Ratchet pointed out, his voice hard and unyielding and willing his Prime to understand. “Those are the facts and you know that as well as I do. Seekers as a breed were always arrogant, vain, and with a streak of brutality that was rarely very well hidden. They were Decepticons by nature. Megatron simply allowed them to give free rein to that side. Seekers were never Autobots by nature. Whatever you do, you are likely to lose. Rein him in and they will both start to fight against the sort of restriction that is unnatural to any of their breed. Let him loose, and you know that he will be targeted. Converted to their cause if possible and destroyed if not.”

“Damned if I do, damned if I don't,” Optimus Prime agreed softly. “How strong is he?”

The real question hung unspoken between them but Ratchet could easily pick it out, anyway. “Is he strong enough? I don't know. Even he doesn't know. For now, they seem to be getting along. For now, they both seem willing to adapt. Will it be enough? I don't know.” Another long moment of silence. “I can't tell you much as your CMO that you don't already know, but my advice as your friend? Let him fly. Restricting him will not end well, no matter how you choose to handle it. If you give him his freedom, there is some chance it may work out. The human side may be strong enough to keep them out of the worst situations. There is a risk, yes, but there always is. To him, to you, to all of us. That risk was no less when he was a human, Optimus. He died as a human, in a war we brought to their doorstep. Give him a fighting chance. It may end badly, and I am no less aware of that than you are, but at least he was given that chance. Restricting him will leave him without even that.”

Optimus Prime stayed silent for a long while, his calm stance betrayed by the slight tension in his frame, and Ratchet let him think and simply waited for whatever conclusion his leader would reach.

“Even in the darkest hours of the War, there was always choice,” Optimus finally said, and Ratchet released the tension in his own body that he hadn't even been aware of. “When Cybertron was laid to waste, when no mercy was granted... there was always choice. It has been so long since a new spark has appeared that it is perhaps easy to forget. Whatever your origins, you always had a choice. Perhaps not much of one, at times, but it was always there. Even I had that choice – to defy or submit when Megatron rose. I thank you for reminding me, old friend.”

Ratchet nodded and whatever fears had nestled themselves at his spark, images of four Seekers in the skies or the lifeless, burned remains of someone he called friend, he ruthlessly pushed them aside. “Let him fly?” he asked and needed the confirmation, a small bit of certainty in a situation none of them truly understood, and Optimus Prime finally nodded.

“Let him fly.”


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


Waking up was not a pleasant experience but not nearly as a bad as Will had feared. The debriefing had been all business by Ratchet's orders – Will was in no condition to sit still and focus for any prolonged periods of time – but it had still been a bit more than Will's overcharged brain had been willing to handle and by the time he had finally gone back into recharge, he had been tired and drained and grouchy and the Seeker had fared little better.

Recharging, as it turned out, had only marginally improved things. His body was still humming with excess energy, the Seeker part of his brain still clouded and confused when he didn't forcibly make it focus, but at least he wasn't tired anymore, and he felt marginally less grouchy about life as well. The Seeker part was unusually silent, still asleep in the back of his mind, and that left the human side to be in charge for the morning. He felt unfocused and annoyed and somewhat out of sync with his body, but the world was not an entirely miserable place this morning and he could work with that, at least.

That, of course, had lasted all the way until he'd had his Energon and found himself outside with Ironhide on the training ground, staring at the grey sky above and feeling the urge to take off again and knowing damn well Ironhide would have his aft if he tried. The mech hadn't said much during the debriefing at all, letting Optimus and Will do most of the talking, but he hadn't exactly given off the impression of being particularly pleased with Will's stunt.

“You skipped training yesterday,” he had drawled when Will arrived, and it had only gone downhill from there. Two hours of training was what he'd skipped the day before and when the daily two hour mark approached and Ironhide gave no sign of letting up, Will realised with a sinking feeling in his stomach that the mech fully intended to make up for the missing training session.

The Seeker would have objected, would probably have fought, but its processors were too clouded, too unfocused to really do much, and so Will was stuck dealing with it instead, and it was a testament to Ironhide's relentless training that there wasn't as much as a flicker of arousal from the Seeker. It had been overcharged, willing to do just about anything to get rid of the energy they could only barely keep in check through their collective stubbornness... even now there was still the feeling underneath it all of energy straining to be released, and still there wasn't as much as a flicker of mental images from the Seeker. Not of Starscream, not of Optimus, not even of Ironhide.

It was three hours into the training session that Ratchet showed up and ordered a halt to it with all the unyielding stubbornness of a CMO who had spent most of his career at war, and Ironhide had arched what passed for an eyebrow at Will, kneeling on the ground and still trying to find the energy to get up again after the last throw had sent him flat on his back, and then he had nodded once, sharply, and held out a hand for Will.

Will eyed him for a moment, then Ratchet, and finally decided to just go with it and trust him, and said trust was rewarded as he was pulled to his feet again without some sort of dirty trick bringing him right down again in the name of training.

“See me in the infirmary when you're done here, Lennox,” Ratchet said firmly, making Will shift slightly and bite back a soft hiss as the motion made several sensor nodes near one hip flare up in pain and no, he wasn't going to argue with that order. Like it or not, he was quickly coming to accept that no, Seekers weren't meant for close combat and no, being a human mind in a Seeker body didn't make a slagging bit of difference in that, either.

“Yes, sir,” he responded and straightened slightly, and Ironhide finally let go of his arm, probably because he was finally somewhat convinced Will wasn't going to fall right back down and earn them both a chewing-out from the medic.

Ratchet watched both of them for a moment, silently promising pain for both of them if anything happened, and then he turned and left and Will's intakes vented softly. Every part of his body was sore, he had dents in place he didn't even know he had, and his paint needed a serious touch-up after three hours of close combat training with a pitch-black mech... and underneath it all he realised to his surprise that the excess energy wasn't quite as bad as it had been before, a soft hum beneath it all but his head felt clearer and the Seeker's still half-asleep processors felt a good bit less clouded, too.

“Feeling better?” Ironhide finally asked, and Will gave him a startled look, prompting a snort from his instructor. “You need to learn to shield that bond, Lennox. I got to go along for your whole flight yesterday and let me tell you, I really didn't need those images of 'facing with Starscream and Megatron.”

Oh. Will's optics shuttered for a moment, too tired to really feel embarrassed, and he did what he could to shield the bond at the reminder and probably failed miserably in the process.

“You think I wanted them?” he settled for instead, one clawed hand lingering on a still-sore bruise on one wing where the sensor nodes hadn't blocked it yet, and too tired to really muster much in terms of emotions at all. “Slag it, Ironhide. They scare the frag out of me and no one seems to be able to do a goddamn thing to help me. Ratchet is going to have my aft if I go flying like that again and it didn't even help that much at all, just took off the edge of it. It took three hours of hard training now to even get out the worst of the energy to a degree where I can actually think again without forcing myself to.”

Maybe he had expected Ironhide to get angry, maybe he'd expected annoyance at Will's inability to control himself, but whatever it had been, what Ironhide finally did was not it.

“I know,” the black mech said, quietly and seriously. “And I will keep my promise if it's ever needed. Watch your back, Lennox. Starscream is a treacherous spawn of a glitch. Even Megatron can't control him. Don't turn your back on him. He'd turn on his own trine if it could get him what he wanted.”

Will wasn't entirely sure of that but he didn't argue but simply nodded in agreement instead, too tired to try and defend the Seeker and not sure why he would even want to in the first place, either. It was the enemy, a brutal killer who would gladly tear apart every ally, friend, and family Will had, and why in the name of all that was holy he'd gotten the thought to even try and argue against Ironhide's words, however quick the thought had been to vanish again, he had no idea.

Seeker, the voice in the back of his processors murmured, finally roused from its clouded rest. Kin. Protection.

It's Starscream, Will snapped back but it lacked its usual heat, the tiredness draining to both of them. He's the enemy.

Kin, the Seeker whispered, more to make a point than anything, because a moment later it was gone away, resting away in the back of his mind and Will got the clear impression that for the moment, it didn't mind at all letting the human part be in control while they tried to handle what remained of the pent-up energy.

Ironhide was watching him, clearly waiting for an answer, and Will finally got a grip on himself again and nodded tiredly. “I'll be careful.”

A long moment of silence as Ironhide kept watching him, looking for something that Will wasn't even sure what was and then the mech nodded. “Good. We'll test out your weapons tomorrow. After that, we'll try to see about letting you train with someone other than me. Now get your aft to Ratchet before he makes both of us miserable. Dismissed.”

The Seeker stirred uneasily in the back of his mind at the thought of Ratchet, a strange mix of apprehension and respect, and then that strange feeling of mental recharge claimed it again and Will was left to his own thoughts and reactions again. For the first time in a long while, he found himself honestly looking forward to a trip to the infirmary – if nothing else, it was a lot better than another hour of training at Ironhide's hands.


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


“You look better than I'd feared,” Ratchet greeted him as he stepped inside, still feeling absurdly clumsy on the ground, with broad shoulders and even larger wings that stretched far beyond anything that was reasonable and kept threatening to catch on doorways or get stuck in palm trees.

“Training helped,” Will admitted and sat down before Ratchet could even tell him to, making a few sensor nodes complain at the motion. “It got rid of some of the energy. It's still there but I can sort of control it today. It's better than yesterday, at least.”

Ratchet nodded, already focused on Will's wings, and silence fell as the medic worked, fixing dents where it was needed, handling damaged sensor nodes and joints, and leaving the rest to heal itself. A minute of lingering on the NEST etchings on his wings, examining the marks that Will could feel were almost healed, and then the feeling of hands against his wings moved on to the next injury. It wasn't too different from being a human. He had been used to various scrapes and bruises. He was special ops and NEST came with its own kind of training, so working through scrapes and bruises had been normal for him. Being a Seeker hadn't changed it much. At the most, it made it easier since mechs came with the ability to turn sensors off if needed, although Will had no doubt that Ratchet would have his aft if he as much as thought about doing that outside of emergencies.

“I'm impressed you lasted as well as you did,” Ratchet finally said. “Most mechs would have problems keeping up with Ironhide's training for three hours. Being a Seeker has nothing to do with that. He's a demanding teacher but he is competent and simply wishes to give you the best chance of surviving. He just isn't always aware of the limitations of other mechs, which is why I stepped in when I did. He would have kept pushing you until you hit the four-hour mark or you couldn't get up anymore, but that's Ironhide, too.”

Will shrugged slightly. “I've had drill sergeants like that. They do it for your own good. The Seeker hates it but it knows it's good to learn and it likes being around Ironhide. I'm in charge during the training but it does pay a little attention to Ironhide, too. Tries, at least.” A soft snort. “In between fantasising about him, but it was too tired to do that today, at least.”

Ratchet turned his attention to the prominent dent near one of Will's wings and it still surprised him how much of a relief it was when something wing-related was fixed. It had to be a Seeker-specific thing, the large amount of attention spent on the wings, because it didn't draw nearly the same reaction when the medic handled the dent on his hip.

Silence again. Ratchet worked and Will waited quietly, and finally the medic stretched again and put the tools aside.

“I patched up what needed it. The rest will fix itself.” A long look at Will, looking for something in just the same way Ironhide had and Will forced himself to stay still even as the Seeker stirred uneasily in its haze. “You seem stable today,” he finally remarked.

Will shrugged again. “It... works. I think we managed to compromise. The energy-thing is Seeker-specific. I think we managed to burn off enough that the Seeker's dealing with what's left and I'm left mostly clear-headed again. Mostly. It's still there, just... less than before. I can deal with it.”

Another tool appeared, scanning one optic in what looked like a perfect echo of a human doctor checking a human patient, and Will just watched him with bemusement.

“Interesting concept,” Ratchet finally said and lowered the tool. “It's still there?”

“It's still there,” Will confirmed. “Just... almost asleep. Distracted, I guess.” It was hard to put into word but he tried, anyway, fumbling for ways to describe concepts he wasn't even sure about in the first place. “I think it's because human brains aren't wired the same way Seekers are. It's trying hard to keep those compromises and I was willing to try just about anything but interfacing to handle that energy-problem. It picked up on it and when flying didn't help... I guess this was its solution. I don't have the same flight-or-frag reaction going on that it does, so it went into a sort of mental recharge for a while to let me try and deal with it. I don't think it's going to last for long, though, not if the energy doesn't go away completely. Then the problem is just going to get worse until something snaps.”

A stay of execution, Will didn't say, but the words hung in the air, anyway, and Ratchet nodded.

“I would like to tell you that I have a solution, but I don't. It's a Seeker-specific problem and Seekers deal with it in their own way. If any of them have ever gone to a medic to find a solution, it hasn't been recorded anywhere. They consider it a part of them. It's programming and they instinctively know what to do about it.”

“Interfacing,” Will said and resisted the urge to rub his face tiredly. The words did bring up another question to the forefront of his processors and Will asked before he could stop himself. “How do you know so much about them?”

Ratchet arched an optic ridge and Will elaborated. “I get that Cybertronians have a lot less hangups about these things than humans do, but I'm pretty sure it's not standard medical knowledge to know that much about Seeker programming, much less how to interface with Seekers, and especially not for an Autobot medic.”

“It could be. I was a medic before the war ever started,” Ratchet pointed out but his amusement betrayed the words, and when he continued, it was more thoughtful, more serious. “I have had Seekers as interface partners before the war. They were fairly aloof and generally not too tolerant of ground-pounders in those days... still are, for the most part, but these days they have become forced to work with ground-bound mechs and have become moderately more tolerant compared to what they once were. In those days they were quite a bit more trine-focused and elitists, but there were exceptions – among them and among the lowly ground-pounders. Medics are respected in any army I have known of and I took an interest in the particular medical issues of their breed. That particular combination was enough to bring me in contact with them, and draw the interest of a few as well.” He tapped lightly on Will's wings. “For one, Seekers have sensitive wings and medics have sensitive hands. It's a useful combination.”

It wasn't even a caress of his wings but it was still enough to send a shiver through Will's processors and he could definitely see Ratchet's point. Sure, the Seeker was overcharged and in desperate need of an overload, but it had still been a lot stronger of a reaction than Ironhide's touches had gotten as he had forcibly instructed Will and corrected his stands. The touch hadn't been much but between it and Will's musings, it was enough.

With a soft whirr, Will's heating fans turned on, and it took him several long seconds to realise what had even happened, much less turn them off again, and he snapped at the presence in his mind as soon as it was under control.

We agreed on Ironhide. This is Ratchet.

The only response he got was vague annoyance, displeasure as being torn out of its rest again, and the words that followed were distinctively miffed.

I recharge. You reacted.

Definitely miffed, as much as from being roused to being accused of breaking its word and potentially invoking Ratchet's wrath in a fear that was very real in the back of its mind, even half into recharge as it was. Will blinked mentally, watching in stunned silence as the Seeker part returned to its rest and he noticed with no small bit of discomfort that the insistent reaction from the heating fans remained even as he tried to keep them under control.

The Seeker had been in recharge. He hadn't noticed it until then, but looking back, it was true. It hadn't just been resting during the training with Ironhide. It had continued throughout the medical check-up, which meant that it hadn't actually been aware enough to react to Ratchet's touch.

Slag.

“Will?” Patient, amused, and Ratchet was watching him, and Will groaned softly in response.

“I can't even blame the Seeker for that one. Sorry, Ratchet. It... I can't even tell you it won't happen again. Slag it. You're a giant alien robot. I'm not supposed to be attracted to you.”

“Not that giant,” Ratchet reminded him, a bit amused. “You're a good bit taller than I am these days. To remind you of a comparison you once made yourself, Will, you could be said to have been brought back to the mental equivalent of your teenage years. You may not care much for it but your body will react entirely independent of you at times. Perhaps there is genuine attraction. Perhaps it is merely a physical response. Either way, the Seeker itself seems without blame in this case.” Will's sudden urge to groan must have shown because Ratchet offered him a sympathetic look and changed the topic. “You do seem to have been dealing decently with all of this in the past few days. Would you feel comfortable being around humans?”

Sarah, his immediate reaction was, and his instant agreement died on his lips before he could quite form the words.

Would he really, he wondered, and the way Ratchet kept watching him, he suspected that immediate agreement would not necessarily have been a good thing. Humans were small and fragile and delicate, and his claws alone could tear apart a decent-sized truck. Did he really have enough self-control and self-awareness to keep anything from happening without forcing himself to stay thirty feet away and be completely still to keep from doing anything wrong? It was Sarah out there, his once-wife and the mother of his child. He was a Seeker now, as big as Optimus Prime and with a lot stronger primal instincts to drive him, and there was really no room at all for mistakes around humans.

Was he really going to be comfortable around humans after only a week in his new shape?

Ratchet kept watching and finally Will looked up, voice quiet and serious.

“I'm not sure, but I want to try. I don't think I'll ever stop worrying about hurting someone on accident, but I'm never going to get used to anything if I stay hidden away here. I have a wife out there, Ratchet. I have friends. I want to try. Maybe I'll fail and spend the whole time in a corner of the room to keep from doing any kind of accidental damage, but I have to try. It's the only hold I have on my humanity anymore.”

It had obviously been the right response, because the medic relaxed fractions of an inch and nodded slowly. “I would suspect that your bonded would very much like to see you, too. She has been insistent in her enquiries about you.”

Sarah.

“I would like that,” he agreed quietly.

The medic nodded again and gesture for Will to get off the infirmary bed again. “I will let her know. Another thing... Optimus will make it official later today, but effective immediate, the restrictions on you have been lifted.” Will's optics widened slightly in surprise and even the Seeker reacted to that, torn out of its clouded rest as Ratchet continued. “You are a Seeker and they have never responded well to being grounded. Just keep in mind that Starscream and his trine are still out there and we will have no reliable way to assist you if you encounter them. You are free to fly but I will have your aft if you get yourself offlined.”

Flight, the Seeker whispered joyously, the thrill of the flight coursing through Energon lines and processors, the instinctive desire to take off and never, ever land, tear through clouds and rain and until the sky was blue turned dark turned black and there was nothing but him and stars and the endless emptiness of space at the edge of the atmosphere, and Will took a tight grip on it and willed it to calm down again.

Sarah, he repeated; quiet and firm and unrelenting, and the Seeker paused and relented and backed down, and Will's frame slowly released the sudden tension in it again.

“I appreciate it,” he said quietly. “But I have to talk to Sarah.”

The medic nodded, and if there was a slight touch of pride in his features at his words, Will didn't mention it. Seeker or not, he was still a goddamn human, and he had a wife he adored, and if there ever came a day when flight won over spending time with his loves ones, he slagging well didn't deserve them anymore.

And the Seeker, resting quietly in the back of his mind, paused and wondered and finally, bemusedly, murmured its silent agreement.


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


[Interlude 2 - Epps]

Robert Epps had never considered his position as Second in Command of NEST as anything more than another source of paperwork, courtesy of one commanding officer who was entirely too good at delegating said paperwork and a bunch of alien robots who caused just as many problems sometimes as they fixed.

He had never considered his position as anything more than another source of paperwork... and then said commanding officer had been killed and brought back in a series of events that still made Epps' head hurt, and the alien robots had been distracted at best by the new robot in their midst, and Epps had been left trying to juggle it all, demands for explanations from generals, insistent video conferences with congressional lackeys and politicians that he kept postponing, and above it all was NEST, just as worried as their new commander was, and rumours were running rampant even as Epps tried to keep it all under control.

“I can't keep making up excuses,” he said to Optimus two days into the deal, eyes red from lack of sleep and with only copious amounts of coffee keeping him going at all. “I know what's going on. The team does, too – they don't know for sure but they've guessed enough to get the basics, even if they're not going to tell anyone else. But nobody outside knows and I'm running out of excuses with the brass. Somebody has to make a decision, and they better do it fast.”

Preferably something better than 'he got turned into an alien plane like the ones that've fragged up the Air Force every time they've had a run-in, and now he's staying with the 'Bots', too,' but Epps wasn't even going to object to that one, as long as he got some orders he could use.

He wasn't as good at reading Big Buddha as the kid was, but something in Optimus' expression at that told Epps that the big mech had already considered that particular problem. He wasn't surprised, either. It was what leaders did, and Optimus Prime was the best there was at the job.

“His human body died in defence of this planet,” the mech said with the same regret in his voice as Epps had heard from him or Will a few times before, when there were hard decisions to be made and no easy way to handle it, and that voice had never been a good sign.

Epps' grip on the papers in his hand tightened slightly at that but that was all the reaction he could really muster, too tired to feel much at all as he guessed where the conversation was heading. “Killed in action?”

“It would be easier,” Optimus agreed quietly, “for everyone. We can not afford to have a Cybertronian under human jurisdiction, much less a Seeker.”

Human jurisdiction, who'd either pick him apart to see how he worked or send him after Starscream or Megatron or whoever had pissed them off the most that week and get him killed trying, and Epps nodded, suddenly tired of all of it, of politics and fighting and stupid, Pit-spawned 'Cons.

“I'll get it done.”

If there was brief gratitude in Optimus' expression, Epps ignored it. It was human business, with a human soldier, and the big boss had enough to handle if the tiredness in his stance and the hard expression on Ratchet's face when he'd passed the medic earlier was anything to go by.

The paperwork for that kind of thing was uncomfortably familiar to all of them, and Epps was already going through a mental checklist by the time the rest of his brain caught up with him and he wanted nothing more than to grab his stupid commander, whatever the hell body he was in, go get slagfaced, kick his ass, and then crash for the next week.

He had no condolence letter to write, at least. Sarah already knew.

He stared at the paperwork in his hand, meaningless and useless, then nodded to Optimus and turned and left with a tired sigh and a lingering longing for something stronger than coffee. The human-turned-Seeker was out there somewhere and he tried not to wonder where as he made his way back to his own office.

I'm sorry, man, he said silently.

The teams would have to be told. General Morshower. Liaisons, support crews, politicians...

But for the moment, Epps really didn't care.


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


“Nobody wants to tell me anything,” Sam said frustrated on the third day, after six windows had been shattered by a jet hitting the sound barrier way, way too close to the ground and Diego Garcia's flight control had stayed tight-lipped and wide-eyed when Epps had tried to grill them about it. “He died and got turned into a robot-jet-thing like Starscream and all 'Bee tells me is that he can't say anything and he's sorry and that Ratchet's working on it. I asked Optimus, and he told me the same. He's my friend. He hauled Optimus halfway around the world because Simmons told him I asked him to, kicked Galloway out of a plane, and pretty much killed his military career if I'd been wrong, and he did it anyway.” A deep breath, tanned fingers running through unruly hair. “And I heard Ratchet tell the big guy that he's unstable and they don't want him around humans yet, but it's Will and... I just want to help. He'd have done the same for me.”

Epps didn't ask where Sam got most of his intel from and it probably didn't matter, anyway. Most likely, their NEST team had talked. Sam was all but an honorary member, anyway, and they all liked the kid. The 'unstable' part was new, and Epps made a mental note to ask Ratchet about it next time he saw the mech in a decent mood. He'd gotten close enough to exchange a grand total of one greeting with the man-turned-mech before Ratchet had hauled Will off again the night before, and he'd gotten the impression that even that had been an accidental encounter their medic would have preferred to have avoided. What little Epps knew about reading Seeker expressions, Will hadn't looked unstable to him, but it might've explained why Ratchet had frowned. Will had passed by other humans on base, word of mouth had told him that, but none of them close enough to talk to him, much less get within easy reach, and maybe that was why. He'd ask about it when he got the chance... if he ever made his way out of the office with the ever-mounting paperwork again in the first place, because he was starting to understand why Will had dumped so much of the crap on his Second in Command instead of dealing with it himself.

“Can't help you,” he finally said and he probably looked as tired as he sounded, even to himself. “I'm sorry, kid. I'm supposed to be in charge and they don't even tell me anything. Nobody even mentioned the word 'unstable' to me. You probably know more than I do right now. I get the paperwork and the headaches and occasionally I try to pry some intel out of them and they give me some smooth-talking slag that don't tell me anymore than I already knew.”

The kid ran his hand through his hair again and looked twitchy in a way Epps had learned pretty fast meant that he was nervous, and then he sighed. He liked the kid, he really did, but right now anything new meant another headache and he already had enough of those to deal with. “Listen, kid... I'm sure 'Bee's got his reasons, but if I hear anything, I'll pass it on.”

Because it was Will, and the kid was worried, and it was the only thing he could do right now, and if it added another headache to his collection, he could deal with that, too. The kid had brought back Big Buddha. If passing on a little intel if he got it would make the whole thing a bit easier to deal with, then Epps would do that, because there was slag-all else he could do.

The kid seemed to have realised that, too, because while it clearly wasn't what he'd hoped for, he nodded and sighed, anyway.

“Thanks. I appreciate it, I really do. I'm just... I wish I could do something. Waiting sucks.”

Epps knew that, too, but he'd had a lot more experience dealing with it, and he offered only a short, tired nod in return, and watched as the kid turned and left and his mind returned to a million things that still needed handled, and every single slagging one preferably should have been done a week ago.

Waiting sucked but for the moment, there was nothing else they could do.


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


He ran into Sarah Lennox on the fourth day, looking as tired as Epps himself felt and with a hard look in her eyes that wouldn't have been there in a world where Will was human and alive and well. He felt suddenly guilty for not having been there at all for her, wondered where four days had gone and realised a moment later that he wasn't actually even sure of that, and Sarah tugged a lock of hair behind her ear and just watched him.

Epps was silent for long second, not sure what to say at all-

-I'm sorry, I should have done something, I should have stopped him, I should-

- and then Sarah broke the silence and took that headache away from him, at least.

“Ironhide is looking out for him,” she said quietly. “He's- I trust him. I made him promise.” A small, uncomfortably shrug – she was trying her damned best to handle it, and Epps wasn't sure if he was envious or grateful that he had paperwork to distract him, at least – and then she sighed. “I don't know how much they've told you.”

-Nothing, they told me nothing-

- And Epps sighed, too, because that wasn't her headache. “I know some. I was there. Sam told me...” That Will isn't stable, he didn't finish, because he didn't know if she knew and slag it all, it was no way to hold a conversation, and he had always hated that 'classified' crap.

Sarah must have thought the same, because she offered a wry, small, tired smile. “They're worried he's going to be dangerous.” She took a deep breath and anger flared in her eyes in an instant, was replaced by fear and worry and desperation, and Epps hugged her tightly as she crumpled against him. “It's Will. It's my husband, Bobby. He'd never hurt me and they still won't let me see him without someone there. To stop him.” The last part was spat out in between sobs, coherency melting into grief that had been kept at bay for too long already, and Robert Epps could do nothing but hold her and offer a wrinkled uniform to cry in.

“It'll be okay,” he whispered, held her protectively and felt her grip him tightly in return. “It's Will. You know him. He's going to be fine. I promise, Sarah.”

Her desperate grip lessened slightly and Epps fell silent and let her take her time.

And so help me, he silently promised, I will have your fraggin' ass for target practice if you make a liar outta me, Lennox.


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


By day five, the sound of something fast and alien hitting the sound barrier way too close to base was starting to become almost familiar, even if it still would have hauled Epps out of bed if he'd been sleeping. As it was, he'd been buried in paperwork and video conferences and uncomfortable conversations with people who didn't know whether to offer their condolences about the loss or congratulate Epps on his promotion, and he settled for a resigned sigh and would have spent the rest of the day keeping track of a million stupid things if he hadn't gone looking for Optimus Prime and run into Ironhide on the way.

Almost literally, at that. He knew Tall, Dark, and Not-Too-Handsome well enough to recognise annoyance when he saw it, and Ironhide turned his head and looked like he was about to snap at whatever unfortunate soul had dared to interrupt him-

- And then he had recognised Epps and stood down again and Epps was not too proud to admit he was more than a bit relieved at that, too.

The smart thing to do when Ironhide was annoyed, they knew from experience, was stay the hell away from him, but after five days of worry and anger and paperwork and way too little sleep, Epps didn't think he had anything left that could muster the coherency to do 'smart' if his life depended on it.

Instead, he did the one thing that he'd wanted to for days, levelled a frown at the mech, and verbally paraded right up in front of the firing squad and flipped it the middle finger.

“So, anyone going to tell me what the frag is going on with Will?”

Ironhide just watched him, but there wasn't that distinctive sound of cannons charging that usually followed when he was really pissed, and then the mech slumped slightly, tiredly, and Epps felt a moment of painful sympathy.

“He is a Seeker,” Ironhide said, weariness shining through what Epps didn't doubt was supposed to have been a flat response. A Seeker, like that was supposed to explain everything, and Epps heard a frustrated sigh and took a moment to realise it had come from himself.

“You know, I appreciate having one of you actually willing to talk to me, but I'm not an Autobot. I'm human. 'Seeker' doesn't mean slag to me as anything other than some winged 'Con fraggers that need a goddamn nuke up their exhaust pipe, and they need it yesterday.”

Ironhide snorted and there was no humour in the gesture, and if Epps hadn't been worried before, he sure as slag would have been now. “That would be an accurate assessment.”

Not much help at all, that, and Epps bit back another frustrated sound as his sleep-deprived mind worked as fast as it could to make whatever sense it could of it. Will was a Seeker. Seekers were Seekers, Seekers were fragging pests, Seekers had issues, Seekers were brutal, Seekers were deadly, Seekers were 'Cons-

His brain stumbled to a terrified conclusion even as Ironhide was moving again, heading somewhere else and probably blow something up because that was the Ironhide method of dealing with slag, and Epps raised his voice to get his attention.

“He's stronger than you think!”

A pause, Ironhide hesitating for fractions of a second, and Epps saw his chance again, five days of stress and worry and frustration finding an outlet in his anger.

“He's your friend! You know him! He's stupid and he's stubborn and he's a goddamn danger to his surroundings sometimes, but he's not a 'Con. Slag it, Ironhide! He's stronger than you think!”

Ironhide was still for a moment as perfect silence followed, and then he turned and left and Epps sank back into the Jeep, tired and desperate and with dark, nauseating worry settling in the pit of his stomach.

Don't make me a liar, Lennox, he mouthed soundlessly, forehead resting against the steering wheel and trying not to think about Sarah and Annabelle and having to tell a woman that her husband didn't just die but turned traitor, and he closed his eyes tightly and repeated the words, silent and desperate. Please. Please, don't make me a liar.


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


On the sixth day he managed to corner Ratchet, the medic on his way to the training ground Epps had discovered that Ironhide had claimed for himself, and he had steeled himself, decided the mech had looked in less of a bad mood than the previous days, and took his chance.

He'd wondered about what to say if he got the chance but when he finally found himself in the situation, he was still too tired, too worried, and too stressed to manage much of anything, and what came out was weary and resigned.

“What do I have to do to get an actual update on him?” he asked and didn't bother to elaborate on who 'him' was, because they both knew that just fine. “You want me to beg? Because let me tell you, I'm pretty close to that right now.”

Not particularly dignified but he didn't particularly care and he continued as Ratchet's expected annoyance failed to make its scheduled appearance in favour of what looked like an almost concerned frown.

“He's my friend and you're freaking the frag out of us. 'Bee won't tell the kid anything. Sarah isn't allowed near him without one of you around, and when I ran into 'Hide yesterday, he talked like Will was about to pack up and join the 'Cons.”

There, it was said, and Epps sighed and crossed him arms and waited for the verdict, too tired to really work up the proper energy to put into it all, and with bits and pieces of a dozen mental checklists flickering in his mind, scrambled together and utterly useless by now. The memory of a paper with his signature and a death certificate he would remember in painful detail for the rest of his life, and then Ratchet was speaking and Epps looked up again, a second slower than normal as his mind tried to keep up.

“You need to recharge.”

Epps shrugged, a silent gesture of what-else-is-new. “Later.” Next month, maybe, or next year. Or maybe when he was dead, because they all knew damn well that fighting 'Cons was never a safe duty.

Definitely a disapproving frown from the medic, and maybe it was the lack of sleep that delayed Epps' common sense for long enough for him to straighten a bit and frown right back. “He's had my back in battle, Ratchet. Now I've got his. You want me to sleep? Fine. Tell me what the frag is going on and I'll consider it.”

The medic seemed to consider his words for a moment, and then his expression softened just a bit. “He is learning to adjust.” Softly – gently, almost – and if that wasn't a bad sign, Epps didn't know what was. “He has two personalities in his processors to deal with now, two distinct entities – the human and the Seeker spark and programming. Even at his most human now, he will never be the person he was before. Never completely. The Seeker will always be there.” A heartbeat. “I am sorry.”

Sorry that Will was apparently a schizophrenic alien robot with wings and an attitude now, and Epps rubbed his face with his hand, too tired to even question the words. It was NEST and while it was true that this situation was probably right on top of the 'Weird Slag That's Happened' list, there were a few close runner-ups, too. You didn't stick around if you didn't have a suspension of disbelief that was a lot more flexible than most.

“Frag,” he muttered under his breath and rubbed his face again, trying to get some of the exhaustion to go away. “Is he gonna be okay?”

Ratchet was silent for just long enough for that gnawing worry to start to make an appearance again as he watched Epps, probably wondering how much to say, and then he finally responded. “He is... improving. For now, it looks well.”

Which probably meant that asking about how he'd be doing later was a bad idea, and Epps settled for a nod. Maybe he should ask, maybe he'd regret later that he didn't, but there was only so much he could deal with at a time and none of them were in any position to guess about the future.

“Thank you,” he said and made a vague gesture of something even he wasn't sure what was. “I'll... go sleep now.”

Sleep, somewhere away from paperwork and people and fragging phones, and maybe he could crash on the human-sized couch someone had put in one of the Autobot-sized hangars. They wouldn't poke him, at least, not with the threat of Ratchet there to stop them.

“Do that,” Ratchet agreed, and even the slight note of 'or else' in his voice wasn't enough to stop Epps' lips from twitching slightly in pale amusement, much more used to hearing that sort of thing directed at Optimus Prime or Ironhide instead.

He was tired, he was worried, and he still didn't know much about anything that was going on, but Will was getting better and he had doctor's orders to get some sleep, and as Ratchet turned and continued on his way, that was good enough for now.

It had to be.