Trials of a Seeker - tfanonkink - Ironhide/Will/Ratchet, part 3

[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
Link to part 2



Afternoon found Will waiting on one of the disused runways, flexing his clawed fingers and pacing restlessly on worn concrete in a vain attempt to rid himself of at least some of the mix of nervousness and excess energy that nagged at the edge of his processors. It would have been bad enough with just one of the things to deal with, but together they created a never-ending feedback loop, nervousness feeding energy feeding nervousness, and the Seeker part was sending almost panicked looks to the sky, torn between taking off because it could, and staying because this was important, this was Sarah, this was bonded, and Will did the only thing he could do and tried to keep from being swept away in the Seeker's emotions, too.

It had been easier when the thing had been asleep in the back of his mind, but being told it was free to fly had roused it and it had stayed awake every since... and with it came the familiar, restless, almost claustrophobic echo of the excess energy that had sent him into that desperate flight in the first place.

Another restless flex of clawed fingers, fear settling in the pit of his stomach as a dozen lines and as many possible reactions flashed before his optics and he still didn't know what to say, one attempt after another considered and dismissed as he waited for Sarah's arrival.

The sound of tires against concrete, a vague sensation of something there in the back of his processors – not a bond as much as simple awareness of the presence of someone known and trusted – and he forced himself to stand still as the familiar Search and Rescue Hummer approached him on the runway and came to a halt a bit away, a small, human figure making its way out. Hesitation, the slight tightening of hands against the door that Will only noticed because he had been watching so closely, and then Sarah shut the door and stepped back, and nervousness turned to sudden panic as Ratchet headed back towards the hangars and left the two figures on the runway alone. So small, so fragile, processors kicking into overdrive-

-Big, clumsy, confused, dangerous-

- and then the Seeker stepped in, soundless murmurs and feelings of reassurance, of trust, of care and affection and protection, and Will clenched his fists and forced the panic aside.

Soft footsteps against concrete as Sarah approached and while he had seen her a few times since he had first woken up in the infirmary, this was so very different. There had been other mechs there, someone to keep an eye on him, and she had been kept at a safe distance, and now...

He was big and clumsy and dangerous on the ground, and he hadn't been given the time at all to get used to it, and he sent a desperate thought to the Seeker even as Sarah came closer, familiar features still so foreign to him as he viewed them through alien optics.

Help me. Please.

A startled moment of surprise-

-Understanding, trust, promise, care-

- and then he was moving, thirty feet of alien war machine kneeling carefully on the runway, and there was nothing but complete surrender as he rested the back of his hands against concrete, lethal fingers kept perfectly still as the small human stopped only a few feet away from him.

Silence, waiting for her verdict with icy fear running through his every Energon line – there had always been an audience before, never been a chance to talk alone, never been a chance to really react – and then Sarah made a small sound, soft and tired and worried, and he had never been more proud of her, never felt more undeserving, than when he saw her reach out and felt an infinitely small human hand against a much, much larger metal finger.

Flesh against metal, skin against alloy, steady heat against the unevenness of his own body temperature as it responded to heat and cold and wind and rain and atmosphere, and he opened his hand a bit more, yielding soundlessly and silently offering his own encouragement in return.

She didn't speak and if her hand trembled almost imperceptibly, Will didn't mention it. Whatever the Seeker part of him might think, the breed was downright ugly from a human point of view, and the distinctively non-organic looks didn't help on the comfort factor, either. Ironhide, Ratchet, Bumblebee... Autobots in general tended to look a lot more organic than the 'Cons, metal or not, and Will was painfully aware of the sight he made, every part, every claw, every curve and joint and plate clearly created with war in mind. Ratchet was a medic. Bumblebee was a scout. Even Optimus hadn't been sparked for war, and the few Autobots who were still had less of an alien appearance than the 'Cons did.

Blue optics and Autobot insignia or not, William Lennox looked like a Decepticon, and the Seeker shifted uncomfortably in his mind at the reminder as they both waited silently, unmoving and apprehensive, for any sign at all about how the encounter would go.

A subconscious scan responded somewhere in Will's systems, revealed a normal body temperature and a slightly elevated pulse in the small being in front of him, and then she pursed her lips in a familiar, determined expression and hesitated for only a second to allow him to object before she sat down carefully in the palm of his hand, a gingerly hold on his finger with one small hand and resting the other on a wide, metallic palm.

Heat, heartbeat, softness, trust, and Will's optics shuttered, and there was nothing he wouldn't have done for her in that moment, and the soft, hesitant sound of a gentle croon whispered through the air as the Seeker added its agreement.

He lifted his hands carefully, the unoccupied one resting slightly below the other if she should even look like she might lose her balance, and only the way her pulse sped up slightly on his scanner revealed that she was anything other than perfectly at ease in his hand.

He should ask her about Annabelle, about how she was doing, about how they were both doing, a million questions and a million worries and a million apologies, and all he found himself able to do was listen to the sound of the silence between them, strangely soothing and comfortable as the Seeker feel silent, too, and Will bowed his head slightly and cradled the precious being in his hands with infinite care.

I love you, he said silently.

Sarah shifted, rested her forehead against the coolness of one metal finger before she moved again and curled up in his hand and Will's spark twisted at the memory of the same motion repeated on their couch back home too many times to count.

Human eyes met alien optics as she looked up, and then she smiled – tiredly, weakly, but genuine, and her response was as silent as his but still easily understood to someone as familiar with her smiles as he was.

Don't ever scare me like that again, the smile said, and then she leaned against his fingers, closed her eyes, and simply rested like a hundred times before.

I love you, too, she added in a soundless whisper.

And for just a moment, he was home again.


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


Ironhide had stopped pacing not long after Ratchet had returned to one of the main Autobot hangars. It was fascinating to watch from a purely medical standpoint – just about all Cybertronians could shield their bonds without even a second thought long before they reached adulthood. Watching the effects of an unshielded bond on someone as old as Ironhide was... interesting. Possibly, Ratchet mentally conceded, because he himself wasn't the one on the receiving end of it.

The restlessness Ironhide had displayed in the time leading up to the meeting between the human-turned-Cybertronian and his human bonded was clearly the effects of his bond with said Cybertronian, and Ratchet felt a bit reassured when that restless pacing had finally stopped. He had been impressed with the human female and her reactions to it all but still, it had all been in the company of someone else, and he was well aware that her response to it when she was finally alone with her bonded could be... rather less favourable, too.

He picked nothing up from his own bond with Ironhide – not surprising, considering that they were both quite capable of shielding it – and after watching the weapon specialist for long moments he finally asked the question that kept nagging his processors.

“How is he?”

Intakes vented as Ironhide waited for a moment – considering the situation, or possibly trying to make sense of the emotions he received – but he remained at ease and that was an encouraging sign, at least.

“Calm,” the dark mech finally replied. “Relieved. I would assume the meeting went well.”

There was more between the lines, silently letting Ratchet know that anything past that was personal and none of his slagging medical business, and Ratchet nodded slightly in acknowledgement to it all, spoken and unspoken, and knew that Ironhide would understand that, too.

Silence stretched for long moments and then Ironhide made some small sound, half frustration and half something Ratchet couldn't readily identify. “What is he?”

Ratchet's optics shuttered in a very human display of surprise. “A Seeker. I would not say 'of course', since the circumstances were rather unique, but medically speaking, he is a Seeker. You know that, Ironhide. You have seen him fly.”

“That's my point,” Ironhide frowned and blue optics narrowed at Ratchet. “He flies like an adult Seeker, but he can't block our bond unless I remind him to, and his processors run on core programming. Half the time when that thing takes over, it's like dealing with...”

“A sparkling?” Ratchet finished quietly. He had already gone over those same thoughts himself and with a lot more medical knowledge to assist him, too, and truthfully, Ironhide's question was not that much of a surprise. He had expected it eventually – not this soon, granted, but it was easy to forget that Ironhide did have some fast processors underneath it all.

Ironhide was silent, only a frown giving an idea of his feelings on that matter, and Ratchet continued. “He is not. Seeker sparklings do not have mating instincts the way he does and I would have stepped in if I had any doubts about the ethics of... this.” The relationship that the Seeker seemed very much determined to initiate and which Lennox seemed to have agreed with, too, but Ratchet didn't mention that part, and as Ironhide snorted softly, it became clear that he didn't have to, either.

“I know it's got its optics set on me,” the dark mech drawled. “That's why I'm asking. You're going to turn me into spare parts if I damage the human part, sure, I got that, but did you really think I'd want to? I want to do this right. It's not Will's fault he got stuck with this and the least I can do is keep from fragging it up any further. I have to know what I'm dealing with, Ratchet, before I frag up something on accident. I'm not...” A pause, running scarred hands over his face in a surprisingly human gesture. “Slag it. I don't care what their programming says. If he's a slagging sparkling...”

Definitely some fast processors at work, and Ratchet's hopes for the whole situation improved marginally at that – there might still be plenty of ways for it all to end in disaster, anyway, but at least Ironhide seemed aware of the seriousness of it all. “To the best of my knowledge,” he finally began, “the Seeker is a mature spark that was too weak to sustain itself. I have no way of confirming that theory, of course, but observing them for the past days, it's currently the most likely explanation I have.” He made a soft sound, the tiredness and frustrations of the past week having caught up with even him. “I believed it to be a fully independent spark at first but observations would suggest otherwise. Every bit of programming he has shown suggests a mature spark but it has very little in terms of personality beyond that core programming. To the best of my knowledge, anything it has done so far that has been based on thoughts more complex that basic Seeker instincts has been a result of the human side instructing it.”

Another long moment of silence and while Ironhide didn't look convinced, he didn't quite look ready to argue yet, either. “So that thing when Lennox isn't fighting it is what the 'Con Seekers would be without those Pit-spawned personalities to bug us?”

“Essentially, yes,” Ratchet agreed. “Let us be honest, Ironhide – any genuine Seeker would have left us in favour of Starscream and his trine at the earliest opportune moment. They have never been Autobots by nature. Why send a Seeker to this place with Autobot markings if it would turn on us within mere Earth-days? Why bind it to a human if the Seeker would be strong enough to manage on its own? If we were truly desperate, we could have forced it to bond with a mech here and bound it to us through those means instead. That Seeker spark was never intended to inhabit a body of its own. It was never strong enough to survive. ”

And following that logic, it would hopefully never be strong enough to take over completely and permanently, either, but that particular bit remained a theory that Ratchet hoped he was right about. Why join the Seeker spark to a human at all if it was fated to overpower the human part, anyway? He was not the most religious of mechs and granted, Primus was a god of the Cybertronians, not the humans, but still... Ratchet liked to think that their creator would spare at least a thought for the small, organic allies that fought at their side despite their fragile nature and the brutal nature of their enemies. Soldiers or not, war or not, Ratchet preferred not to think that a loving creator would pick apart the spark of one of an allied species and use it for little more than spare parts to complete the Seeker that had claimed their base for its territory.

“The Seeker was joined with Lennox for a reason,” Ratchet said quietly, firmly, like he was trying to convince himself as much as Ironhide. “The Seeker was never strong enough to survive on its own and no human spark is strong enough to carry a mech body, either, but it would not have to be. Two weak sparks joined together may burn brightly enough to remain alive, and the human side may remain enough in control to keep it from defecting at the first chance it gets.”

Another frown from Ironhide and a glance at a wall in the direction where Lennox and his human bonded would be, and then he focused on the medic again.

“So getting rid of the Seeker...”

“Impossible,” Ratchet said quietly. “I have no intentions of telling them that because that threat is one of the few effective weapons I do have to rein it in, but a human alone would not have the spark necessary to stay online in a Cybertronian body. Major Lennox would have lived as a human for perhaps another four or five decades, barring unforeseen events. Cybertronians live many times longer. Our sparks were intended to live in a physical body for longer than the human civilization has existed. Theirs were intended for bodies that for the most part do not live past a century. Removing the Seeker could be done but would kill them both. Lennox, perhaps, would live for a while past the removal of the Seeker, but eventually he would die as well.” He straightened slightly and levelled a hard look at Ironhide, willing him to understand. “That is what you are 'dealing with' in them. They have to reach a compromise. The Seeker itself may appear simple-minded at times but make no mistake, Ironhide – it is no sparkling. It is a mature Seeker displaying its core instincts and it is all the more dangerous for it. The only common sense it is likely to have at this point is what Lennox has managed to teach it. It will learn more in time but for now, it is very much guided by its core programming.”

“Flight, fight, and 'face,” Ironhide summarised. “So it's not too bright, but at least I'm not... “ Another half-frustrated sound. “It's an adult, at least. Frag. Did Lennox consent? He told me it wasn't all the Seeker the first time they went after me, but that was before you knocked some sense into it and I don't think he was himself back then, either. Now the thing's still interested in me, but I never asked-”

“-If Lennox agreed?” Ratchet finished. “Under normal circumstances this would fall under patient confidentiality but there is no reason to make this any harder to handle for him than it already is. I am unaware of the specifics of the compromise reached by him and the Seeker but at a guess and based on their behaviour around Optimus and myself, I would say that the compromise they agreed on is you.” He shrugged. “Is that consent? That is a matter between you, your conscience, and Lennox. I will tell you this – Seekers were not sparked for celibacy. You can function perfectly fine without 'facing, whereas a Seeker will become physically and mentally affected by it. Lennox is still coming to terms with it all but he is aware of the issues of being a Seeker build. Is it consent when there is no other realistic option available? He will adapt, because that is in his spark, but until then... tread carefully, Ironhide. For the sake of everyone involved.”

Ironhide turned his head again to look at the direction their new Seeker would be in, and then he looked away again with a troubled frown. He didn't speak and Ratchet wasn't going to force him to. Not all of the adaptation necessary would be on the part of the human in question and as Ratchet watched, Ironhide sat down, a tired expression on his features.

“Frag,” he cursed, low and sparkfelt, and then fell silent again.

And in the privacy of his processors, Ratchet added his quiet agreement.


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


Ironhide came out of recharge in free-fall. The world was spinning, his fuel tanks churning, processors dizzy and rattled and confused, and it took him until his fingers dug marks into the berth below him that he realised he was on solid ground and the world wasn't spinning and intakes vented roughly as systems that had been kicked into instant overdrive tried to calm again.

Slag.

The feeling lessened slightly and his processors cleared enough from their instinctive responses to actually think and a moment later the dark mech snarled and pushed back on the bond that had caused it all.

Lennox!

Shock, surprise, then guilt, and then the feelings and the unnerving sensation of falling faded and was gone as the bond was shielded again. Ironhide bit back a snarl and got to his feet an instant later, stomping out of the room and heading for one of the main hangars in the hazy light of approaching dawn. A quick brush of his bond with Ratchet revealed the medic already up and moving – and not surprisingly, present in the same hangar Ironhide was aiming for – and Ironhide's massive build was just a bit more intimidating than it had to be when he stalked inside and startled several soldiers by the door.

“How long has he been up there?” Ironhide demanded as he reached Ratchet by the massive screens, earning a brief glance from the medic before blue optics focused on the displays again. The human technicians were more aware of him, several of them trying to get a better look at him without being too obvious about it but Ironhide ignored it, used to the reaction. His time was spent with fellow Autobots and the human front line teams, not the scientists or support crews.

“About half an Earth-hour,” Ratchet responded and Ironhide knew him well enough to hear that carefully hidden amusement in the words. “Why? Did he wake you up?”

Ironhide barely bit back the snarl that wanted to get out – Primus, but he hated to get pulled out of recharge that early with no warning – and forced himself to watch the screen instead and bite out an almost-civilized response. “You fragging well know he did.” Another moment, flexing powerful hands, and his anger drained a lot faster as he actually looked at the screens instead of just glaring at them, one steadily-rising number drawing his attention. “Ninety-nine miles up,” he said as the meaning of the numbers finally registered in his processors and watched as two digits became three a moment later.

“One hundred,” Ratchet confirmed, glancing at another readout that made little sense to Ironhide. “Not all of it straight up, either. He stopped to play on the way.”

That memory of churning fuel tanks again and Ironhide forcibly banished that thought from his processors before the dizziness could set in again. “Free-fall,” he guessed.

A nod from Ratchet and frag it if the slagger didn't sound amused again. “I'm sure it was an educational experience.” He paused and his voice was marginally more sympathetic when he continued. “He'll learn to shield eventually. Until then, there is little you can go but remind him and bear it when his control slips. He's a Seeker, Ironhide. The sky is his element.”

One hundred and two miles, and one of the human technicians frowned slightly and turned to Ratchet.

“How much further does he intend to go, sir? He just reached low Earth orbit. If he intends to continue like this, we'll have to start keeping an eye on more than just planes and weather balloons. There's a lot of space junk up there... and a lot of satellites. I know they're just going to file away any photos of him as classified, but he can still hit one on accident.”

Ratchet didn't even pause, Ironhide forgotten – or more likely ignored – for the moment. “Track and warn for anything larger than fifty centimetres across. At the speed they are travelling with, a collision with one of that size would be critical if it struck at a vulnerable point. Add an additional warning for anything between thirty and fifty centimetres.”

“Got it,” the technician responded and keyed something. “Autobot Seeker, be aware that you're now in low Earth orbit and approaching the beginnings of the space debris field. Transmitting tracking program. Be aware of warnings of potential collisions.”

The short series of chirps and whirrs of an automatic response was all the acknowledgement they got, and Ironhide frowned slightly as his own processors reminded him of something.

“How's 'Con activity in the area?”

Long way down if something went to the Pit, and 'Con Seekers were notoriously tricky little frags to deal with, Skywarp's lack of accuracy when teleporting long distances be damned, and Ironhide didn't for a second doubt that the day that winged pest of a 'Con got it right would be when it really counted. An update on the situation followed in shape of a data-burst from the medic and Ironhide took a look at it even as Ratchet answered and interrupted his broody thoughts.

“Nothing close enough to be a problem. That far up, they can contact him, but he's not going to listen.”

“You sound sure of that,” Ironhide commented and watched as the numbers on one screen climbed to one hundred and eight miles straight above and then the course seemed to even out a bit as the numbers slowed their steady climb.

“You heard his response,” Ratchet replied and flipped through a series of read-outs on another screen, too fast for Ironhide to keep track of. “I told you, Ironhide. He's a Seeker. The sky is his realm and this is his first chance to fly without a leash on. Right now, even Starscream wouldn't be able to draw his attention.”

Ironhide nodded, not really convinced but realistic enough to know that even if it hadn't been the case, there wasn't much they could do to get him down, even if they wanted to.

The altitude reached one hundred and ten miles and stopped its steady count in favour of more erratic movement – one-nine, one-eight, one-nine as the Seeker it tracked stopped to stretch its wings properly again, and Ironhide wasn't going to admit that he was more than a bit relieved that Will still kept his shields up without being reminded a second time that morning.

The human technicians kept as close an eye on the screens as Ratchet did and Ironhide's attention turned to the other mech again as he reached out through their bond.

How's he doing? he asked silently, the feeling of a worried frown seeping through the words across the connection.

A glance in his direction and then Ratchet was watching the screens again, his response as silent as Ironhide's had been. He recharged for two hours by his own admission. He's trying to get rid of his energy build-up. A snort. At least he had the common sense to comm me before he took off.

Two hours was a lot less than Ironhide had preferred to hear, but he wasn't stupid enough to ask. Ratchet knew their Seeker was up there and he wouldn't have let Lennox take off if there had been a problem. He'd seen their medic boss Optimus Prime around with enough authority that he could probably have made Megatron bend over and take it, and Lennox wouldn't be up there if there'd been a medical reason to ground him.

Is it going to work? he finally asked instead, genuinely curious as well, and Ratchet's response came without hesitation and with no small bit of annoyance.

No. It's a different kind of energy. He's going to exhaust himself before he does anything more than get rid of the worst of it... as he should already be aware, given that he has tried that method once already.

A pause as Ironhide considered that. It was the first time he had really been around a Seeker and the whole thing, he suspected, was almost as educational for him as for the Seeker in question.

Did you tell him that?

Flatly. Yes.

And Lennox obviously hadn't listened. Someone was in for an aft-kicking when they landed again, Ironhide was familiar enough with Ratchet's tone and emotions from painful experience to know that, and he let a whisper of amusement flow through their bond in response.

I arranged some lessons from Sideswipe for him today.

Another pause, this time as Ratchet considered the words, and some of the annoyance faded, pushed aside by a thoughtful feeling with an undercurrent of a distinct smirk that told Ironhide that their wayward little Seeker had probably not been entirely graceful about dismissing Ratchet's advice, either.

That should be... educational. I will observe, of course. Medical reasons. Sideswipe can be enthusiastic in his duty.

So that's what they call it these days, Ironhide snorted. It might beat some sense into him. Take down the Seeker-ego a little. I'm going to test his weapons tomorrow and see what we have to work with. Looks like he scanned the basics of the weapons from the human jet as well, so we can work with what the humans use. I'll see if I can rig something with a little more punch for him than those missiles, too.

Ratchet nodded and it didn't take their bond for Ironhide to realise that his attention was back on the screens and their Seeker, read-outs scrolling across in lines at a steady pace. Still that annoyance in his stance, though, and Ironhide snorted softly and reached out through the still-tentative bond with the Seeker, only slowly lowering his mental shields when he was sure he wasn't going to be treated to another involuntary fall like the one that had woken him up.

Curiosity from his formerly-human friend, joy and the thrill of the flight, but still with attention spared for Ironhide, and he spoke before either of the two personalities stuck in that Seeker body could ask.

For a supposedly smart mech, you sure are stupid sometimes, Lennox, he drawled silently and didn't need to elaborate as a quick glimpse of an annoyed Ratchet passed through from the less-experienced end of the bond.

Embarrassment was at the top of the complex set of emotions that followed in response, a flicker of apprehension that showed Ironhide that their new Cybertronian comrade hadn't lost his common sense completely; restlessness beneath that and an all-consuming feeling of guilt that hit Ironhide's processors with the force of Megatron's cannon, and he forcibly pulled himself away from it and felt Will regain control of it all, letting only a murmur of forced calm flow through his shields.

Sorry. It sounded genuine and Ironhide's only response was lowering his mental shields enough to offer Lennox silent comfort in return. He could understands the guilt, even if he couldn't do anything about it – pulled in a hundred different directions, a hundred things to piece together and fix and with no way to even begin – and so he settled for quiet support instead and Will sighed through the bond. I needed to get away. The walls were... frag it, 'Hide. We're on an island, flat as a slagging pancake, and I got claustrophobic. I know this isn't going to work, I know it only bought me a few days last time and that only because you beat me up until I couldn't get up again, but I had to try. I can think again, at least. That's worth it.

The vague feeling of motion through the bond again, spinning through freezing air at thousands of miles per hour, but not enough that Ironhide tried to block it. A glance at the screens confirmed it, the erratic movements of altitude and position as Will and the Seeker pushed it as far as they could under Ratchet's watchful eye, and then Ironhide shook his head.

Just come down before you run out of Energon and crash. I'm not fishing you out of that death-trap you call an ocean.

A vague feeling of agreement, and Ironhide didn't quite manage to suppress a sigh as he turned his attention to Ratchet again. “We're never getting him down from there again, are we?”

Ratchet snorted. “He is a Seeker. In an ideal world, they would spend more time in the sky than they ever would on the ground.”

It had been so much easier before, Ironhide decided, when his human brother in arms had actually been human and capable of taking orders and keeping his mind focused on something other than flying for more than two minutes at a time, and some of it must have echoed over the bond, because Ratchet glanced at him a moment later.

He is not William Lennox anymore, the medic responded silently over their bond. He will never be that person again. He is a Seeker now, with Seeker instincts and programming, and regardless of how much human behaviour he may show at times, he will never be properly human again. Yes, he used to be a soldier and take orders as such. He won't anymore, and the sooner you acknowledge that, the less frustration we will all face.

A second of silence, then two; remembering car washes and strategy lessons and those long first months of worrying about the small human ally he had suddenly been working with, and Ironhide's reply was uncharacteristically quiet.

I know.

Another long moment and then Ironhide forced himself to think of something else and looked at the screen again to watch the altitude and position change erratically with the movements of the Seeker so far above. So maybe Lennox was stuck with a Seeker driven by some very basic programming and showed those issues more than a normal one would have, but if that kind of slag was common for all of them...

“How the frag does Megatron handle those things?”

They had enough problems with one of them, and sure, the 'Cons only had the command trine on Earth at the moment to the best of their intel, but that didn't change the fact that the fragger had handled an entire army of the winged pests when the War had first engulfed the whole of Cybertron. No matter how much Ironhide might hate the fragging 'Con, he still had to wonder just how Megatron had managed to make the damn things follow orders at all.

“He doesn't,” Ratchet reminded him, a bit amused. “He has an Air Commander for that.”

Silence as Ironhide paused to realise he was actually right, and in what sort of fragged-up world was dealing with Starscream the lesser of two evils?

“Frag,” he muttered and felt Ratchet's agreement through their bond as the medic glanced at him.

When he has sufficiently recovered from the lessons with Sideswipe today, I plan to let him interact with Epps. He is not stable yet by any reasonable definition of the term but interacting more with humans might help ground him a bit more, mentally speaking. They were good friends before all of this. It may strengthen the human side of him.

Point taken, and Ironhide paused for another moment. It'll be good for both of them and he's got more common sense than the Witwicky kid does.

Who is none-too-patient about wishing to see him, too, Ratchet pointed out.

Ironhide snorted at that. Him and the rest of this slagging alliance. He'll have to meet the human representatives sooner or later. I know you've been sending Prime regular little reports telling him it's too soon and he's too confused.

The effects of being frozen in the Arctic and then kept imprisoned in stasis in a laboratory, Ratchet pointed out. We needed a cover story, Ironhide. It was as good as any. By the time I run out of excuses, he should be stable enough to pass for a normal Autobot and not draw any uncomfortable questions in the process.

Silence again, watching the steady scroll of information on the screen, trying to look past the symbols to see what the Seeker would see and failing miserably in the process, and he sighed.

Out of all the mech-builds, on all the planets, in all of the universe...

Amusement. … he got this one? I'm pleased to see you develop an interest in human culture. Then, more serious, Be there for him, Ironhide. He will need it.

And as the lines of information continued and the altitude began to rise again, Ironhide could do nothing but watch and wonder what one ground-bound mech could really do to keep a Seeker reined in.


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


Will wasn't sure when things had started to go wrong, but he suspected it had been before he had ever set foot on the ground again after his morning flight. He had already found that he was unnaturally annoyed at the fact that he'd had to land at all, and there had been something stirring in the back of his new processors when Ironhide had mentioned training with Sideswipe that was definitely not the interest and arousal he had grown used to. He hadn't been sure if it had been a good or a bad thing – the Seeker had shown interest in Sideswipe as a potential interface partner before, if not as a mate – but the Seeker had pushed down the emotions again before Will could get to examine them any further and thus left him with nothing but resigned bewilderment.

He had been unnaturally annoyed when he had headed out for the lesson – the ground was annoying, the sand was annoying, the clouds were in his slagging way – and it had been pure stubbornness that had kept him from calling off the training session at all, Ironhide's reaction be damned. He had energy to get rid of and Sideswipe was quick, brutal, and lethal, and that sort of training was exactly what he needed to handle those little Seeker issues.

Sideswipe was Sideswipe, and a Seeker hadn't been meant for ground-based fighting, and Will had been on his back within fifteen seconds, with one blade against his throat and the ghost of a smirk on the other mech's features, and the only warning Will got was the unusual, unnatural lack of the half attraction, half arousal that was normally there when he had been bested by someone stronger and more skilled than himself. The Seeker was attracted to Ironhide and enjoyed being confirmed in its choice of mate. The Seeker was attracted to Sideswipe...

The thought trailed off, and something stirred in the back of his processors as he got back on his feet, burned brighter and hotter in a sudden flare of emotion, and recognition clicked in a second too late to matter as the Seeker moved to the front of their processors and restless annoyance became so much more.

Not mate.

Sideswipe moved before Will had the chance to warn him, impossibly fast in a blur of silver and grey and then the Seeker was off, five tons of jet transforming and taking off in the space of a heartbeat and the emotion burned bright and fierce and all-consuming as every last bit of Seeker instinct focused on crushing the ground-bound being that had challenged its superiority.

Small, pathetic, worthless thing-

- and he spun and turned, felt Sideswipe's sword barely miss him and defiance surge as his human awareness was caught up in the rush of it all as well, strength and grace and beauty and the Seeker snarled its defiance to the world around them-

- slow, unworthy piece of scrap-

- and there was nothing he could have done to stop it, even if he had wanted to anymore. The Seeker entwined with the human mind, backed off and approached and picked apart the aspects it needed in the space of a heartbeat, and the world glowed brighter and harsher and slowed as he saw what the Seeker saw and the impossibly fast movements of a living blade on wheels became slow, sluggish-

- weak, vulnerable, useless ground-pounder-

- and they landed on concrete with a defiant screech, hands and arms already transforming, and Will had less than a second to realise what was happening.

No!

No one had been stupid enough to give him missiles yet – thank Primus – but the Gatling gun was functional as a just-in-case precaution and it was out and aimed in the second it took Will to react, and he would never know if the Seeker would have fired and it was a question he wasn't sure he ever wanted to have answered, either.

Sideswipe froze, balanced with impossible skill and two swords raised and ready to strike but not moving just yet, and thank Primus, Will realised, that someone had more sense that the Seeker currently did. One second, then two, stretching on endlessly as nobody seemed willing to even breathe-

- and then his bond surged, white-hot and blinding as pain flared through his spark, his processors, and he was screaming before he knew it, loud and high-pitched beyond human hearing, and an instant later it was joined by the only slightly lower-pitched sound of a familiar cannon charging.

Will froze, felt the Seeker do the same in stunned surprise – this was mate, why didn't mate get it – and the pain from the bond faded and was replaced by a maelstrom of anger, regret, and worry, and with grim determination resting right at the forefront of it all where the mech damn well knew the Seeker would feel it.

For a second he was tempted. He had no doubt that Ironhide could feel that, even if he was never, ever going to mention it to him, and for a moment he was painfully, horribly tempted. The Seeker was fast, the Seeker was skilled, but Ironhide slagging well knew what he was doing and had enough experience fighting the damn things to know how to target one. He knew what taking off now would look like – Seeker went 'Con, Seeker went Seeker – and knew just as well that it would land him a blast straight through his spark, the bond with Ironhide left little doubt about that.

For a second he was tempted and hated himself for it, for being willing to put his friend through slag like that because he was a coward and too pathetic to do something about it himself-

- and then he pushed the stunned Seeker aside, triggered transformation sequences still unfamiliar to him to watch the gun vanish into the metallic jigsaw puzzle that was his new body, and offered silent feelings of regrets and apologies and resignation through their bond.

I'm sorry.

Sideswipe moved back, blue optics dark and suspicious as he watched their Seeker, and Will firmly ignored the shocked murmurs from the presence in the back of his processors. The anger and annoyance was still there but muted for the time being, a bit of the energy gone through the fight and the rage that had followed, and he steeled himself before he raised his head slightly and met Ironhide's optics above a still-charged cannon. Ratchet was watching at his side but not moving, Sideswipe was watching with his swords still out but making no move to strike just yet, and Will's attention was on nothing but Ironhide as the cannon remained where it was, one silent command away from turning Will's spark casing into molten bits of metal.

No sudden movements, even the Seeker understood that one, and a moment later Will moved, slowly and with his optics never once leaving Ironhide's as he crossed his arms over his chest to keep any potential weapons aimed far away from his brother in arms. Emotions of unarmed-surrender-submission echoed through his bond with the mech and a moment later he was kneeling and ignored the indignant screech of the Seeker in his mind-

- We were challenged, this was right-

- and focused on being as little of a threat as he possibly could with his current body, and Ironhide's gaze rested on him for long seconds before the hum of the cannon faded and the weapon was lowered fractions of an inch to aim somewhere other than straight at Will's spark.

There was the distant sound of a familiar Peterbilt approaching, of tense silence around him and the whisper of metal against metal as Ironhide shifted to glance at Ratchet, and Will knew damn well what he was talking with the other mech about. Ratchet's optics felt heavy on him, made the Seeker shift uneasily in the back of his mind at memories of very hands-on methods, and Will stayed completely still, not sure what would be right to do and what would be wrong, utterly lost about the whole situation as the silence stretched on-

- and finally Ironhide lowered the cannon completely at an unspoken cue from Ratchet and the tension in Will's frame released just enough to make the tip of his wings shudder instinctively.

Thank you, he said silently and suppressed another shudder as entirely-too-accurate memory processors replayed those endless seconds for him over and over again, and he couldn't quite stop the tired curse that followed, more a sigh than an actual word. Frag.

And through their bond, he felt Ironhide's silent agreement.


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


Fifteen minutes later found Ratchet in Optimus Prime's office, arms crossed in a very human gesture of defiance and with half a processor consistently on his bond with Ironhide as the darker mech kept their Seeker under observation well away from everyone else.

“Instability and lack of self-control had nothing to do with it,” Ratchet said and the hardness of his voice was a testament to the mental stress he was under. “That is normal behaviour for an interface-deprived Seeker! Blame me if you must, I was the one too caught up in how well-behaved he was for the breed that I failed to take this situation into account, but neither Lennox nor the Seeker can reasonably be blamed for what happened.”

“Sideswipe has expressed his doubts about their loyalties,” Prime said, quiet but firm, reminding his CMO of his position in a situation that rank technically didn't even cover, and he gave no hint to his own view of the matter. “As did Major Lennox himself, before he reached his agreement with the Seeker spark. You were there, Ratchet. You know their behaviour carried more than a few reminders of Decepticon mannerisms.”

“Because they are a Seeker,” Ratchet stressed again and his attention was split between too many different things to keep the urgency entirely out of his voice. “Most Seekers are Decepticons for a reason. He has been well-behaved for their breed until the session today but it doesn't change the fact that he is a Seeker, with Seeker programming in a Seeker body. If he was truly a Decepticon in disguise, he would not have spared Sideswipe, nor would he have surrendered to Ironhide. You have experience with the breed, Optimus, you told me as much. Did you have any experience with the breed when they were not actively courting you?” He was getting too personal, going too far, but right now Ratchet didn't care and he continued before his commander could say anything. “Most Seekers tolerate lowly ground-pounders only for as long as we are attractive to them. Even Autobot Seekers were arrogant, elitist, and self-centered. Why would this one be any different? The fact remains that we have very little detailed knowledge of Seekers as a breed. Before the War, by far the most of Seekers had mates or interface partners. The side effects of prolonged exposure to that energy build-up was never a consideration, and the few of them that had that sort of problem were generally unusual types that preferred to avoid company of any sort. I have examined one – one – Seeker with issues like that in my entire career, Optimus. One Seeker with a damaged wing, whose interface-deprivation was accepted as nothing more than an annoyance by it. I have my theories about Starscream as well but no way to confirm it, obviously. That out there is an Autobot Seeker. A bad-tempered one, but an Autobot nonetheless. He surrendered. He would have let Ironhide fire on him at point-blank. That is not a Decepticon.”

Long silence as Ratchet just waited, knowing he had probably gone too far and too stressed to really care, and then Optimus sighed. “What happened out there?”

“Seeker instincts,” Ratchet replied. “He is bad-tempered from the effects of that excess energy on his systems. I didn't consider how affected he would be. He had managed well until then but in retrospect...” A shrug, accepting what couldn't be changed. “The only beings he has been around much have been beings he considered a bonded or a potential mate. Programming would ensure that he put on his best behaviour around us. Sideswipe is not a potential mate. He is a ground-pounder – a moderately attractive one of the sort to a Seeker, but a ground-pounder nonetheless – and when he attacked them during their training lesson, the Seeker saw it as a direct challenge. With no programming to rein it in and with the additional problem of their short temper... it did what its instincts told it to. It dealt with the threat.”

Silence once more as his Prime considered that and then Optimus sighed again.

“What can be done?”

And wasn't that the question? A quick brush against his bond with Ironhide was enough to confirm that the situation was still under control in that end and thus not likely to provide a convenient distraction for Ratchet, and a moment later the medic straightened slightly. Bad news never got any better because you tried to hide it, he had learned that long before the War had ever started.

“Realistically? Nothing.” Too tired to soften the harshness of the words, willing his leader to understand that it was as hard to say as it was to hear, that it wasn't a word spoken lightly, and he continued a moment later. “I have done what I can, Optimus. This is not the Seeker taking control again. This is at the foundation of his core programming, built into his very body, and I can't touch that. Won't touch that. The programming is there for a reason and changing one wrong line of code can be enough to offline a mech. There were scientists who experimented with that when the War began and... research subjects were easier to come by. I may have done questionable things in the line of duty but that was never one of them.” He shuttered his optics and some of the cold anger drained from his frame as he repeated his verdict. “I have done what I can, Optimus. I am not Primus. It is not my place.”

Silence. Ratchet didn't break it but took the chance to brush against the bond with Ironhide again to keep tabs on his short-tempered patient and was rewarded with an amused feeling of reassurance and calm that belied the tension he could feel in flickers just beneath the surface. Awaiting their Prime's decision with as much apprehension as Ratchet himself, undoubtedly, and then his attention was back on his leader as the mech spoke.

“You told me once you would favour the human.” There was no accusation in the words, just the need to get the full picture, and Ratchet nodded and settled for honesty, however little he might want to voice it.

“I would but I can't. Not anymore, not without killing both of them in the process. My initial assessment was wrong. Neither of them are strong enough to manage without the other. In theory I could remove the Seeker part but I won't. If they had been completely separate entities and strong enough to survive on their own... yes. Major Lennox would have lost the Seeker instincts that make him such a skilled flier but he could have survived and adapted. Never be as skilled as before but he would not be grounded. He would learn to fly again given time and practice. But not now. To remove one part would cripple the other and lead to their deactivation. Not immediately, perhaps not for years, but they would not be strong enough to survive without the other part there.” Intakes vented softly, resignedly. “Would I deactivate the Seeker part if it could save the human? Yes, if that was necessary and agreed to by the Major. Would I do it when neither can be saved? No. There is a fine line between medical decisions made in the heat of battle and a deliberate offlining, and I will not cross that.”

“You like them.” Not a question, that, and a fair observation as well, and one that Ratchet didn't argue.

“As a general rule, they are arrogant and disdainful of ground-bound mechs, they have little self-control, they command by fear rather than respect, and there are good reasons why by far the most of them are proud Decepticons.” Optics shuttered in a very human gesture of tiredness, and while he understood the conversation was necessary, he wanted to be with his patient because mostly-bonded or not, Ironhide was not a medic and never would be. “But yes, Optimus. I do like them. They are brutal enemies now but they were not always so. They are arrogant but they are honest about what they are and most Seekers are incapable of truly lying about their emotions for anyone. I appreciated the honesty and level of emotion they showed. It was a refreshing change from politics.”

Long silence again and this time it was Ratchet who broke it as he forced himself to return to the one question that mattered the most, faction loyalties be fragged. “I can do nothing about that core programming. Interfacing to disperse the effects of that excess energy will make them less temperamental and more controlled but the programming will still be there and Major Lennox is still trying to accept that idea.” There was a biting thought lingering in the back of his processors – but why care about that; I hear consent is optional among Decepticons, anyway – but he forced it down before it could make itself to the forefront of his mind. It was an unfair observation. Optimus Prime was required to consider all options, it was just duty as a leader, and Ratchet was well aware that he was being...

… Unreasonable. Temperamental. Annoyed, proud, arrogant-

And the pieces clicked into place.

Primus.

“Ratchet?”

Something must have shown in his expression because Optimus Prime frowned and something in the back of Ratchet's processors did a surprisingly realistic impression of an Earth-deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming Decepticon alt-mode, and he focused on his spark even as he realised what he would find.

Soft, tentative, almost too weak to notice at all but he was a medic and picking up on small details could mean the difference between repairs and offlining, and he felt his uncharacteristic annoyance-tiredness-worry intensify as he focused on what was clearly the beginnings of a bond.

He very carefully did not focus any further on it to avoid making it react in any way, and then he straightened and returned his attention to his Prime. “Permission to leave, sir? There is a medical issue involving our Seeker that needs my attention. It is not an emergency, but-”

“Permission granted,” Optimus Prime agreed before he had the chance to finish. “There is no need to explain, old friend. We will talk later. Go.”

Ratchet nodded once and was gone, out of the office and back in the hangar itself in moment and transformed an instant later, concrete flying by under his alt-mode as he took off, and he remembered all too clearly his warning to Ironhide.

There are two personalities in there, his mind mocked as it threw his own words back at him. Make very, very sure the human side is interested, too.

And Ratchet could do nothing but snarl with Seeker-like annoyance at the memory of the words and desperately hope he could live up to them as well.


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


You could just take off.

The thought popped up every few minutes like clockwork, nagging at the corners of his processors and making it increasingly difficult to stay still and not give in to the constant temptation of pacing restlessly. The sky was there, endless and inviting, and there was nothing but worthless, annoying ground-pounders on the base; pathetic, wingless creatures that didn't understand their place in the universe, mates who had yet to learn to worship him the way a Seeker should be-

- And Will forced that train of thought aside, unnerved by the strength of the emotions he got from the Seeker. His short temper was something he had gotten used to by necessity but the arrogance and anger had come out in full force, too, and dealing with that was a lot harder. Seekers had egos, Seekers had pride, and the longer he listened to that part of his processors, the more he understood why Megatron had them all. No normal Seeker would put up with humans or Autobots for long. Not when they weren't allowed to prove their superiority and dominance.

You could just take off.

It was still cloudy outside, still grey and warm and humid, and the view from the hangar door where he waited was less than inspiring. Not that he really noticed it much as it was. The clouds were there but they were nothing more than an annoyance to his sensors, tiny drops of Pit-spawned water between him and the endless reaches of sky, and he got the sudden, mad urge to shoot at the slagging worthless scrap this planet called weather-

- And then the urge was gone again, pushed aside by the human part of him before it could turn into anything more than just a stray thought.

In any other case, Will might have been amused by the very alien worldview of someone from a planet with little to no water and who saw it as nothing more than an inconvenience at best and a potentially fatal danger at worst. It wasn't any other case, though. It was his own processors, his own mind, and the Seeker's annoyance with it all only intensified the desire to simply take off and never, ever land again, high above clouds and rain and oceans and sand and-

You could just take off.

He squished the thought again and focused on Ironhide's presence somewhere behind him. He had made a point of carefully shielding that bond with the mech – not because Ironhide had used it against him once to take down the Seeker, but because it was all he currently could do to keep his sort-of, tentative, would-be bond-mate safe... or whatever the heck it was going to turn out to be, because however confusing human relationships could be sometimes, they had nothing on Cybertronians – and whatever the hell was going on with him, he wasn't going to take Ironhide down with him. He didn't imagine that having to shoot someone you had a bond with, however new and weak it might be, would be something that was nice for any sort of mech, much less having to do it while the bond was actually open-

- And he was rambling and he knew it, and he suppressed a sigh and kept the bond firmly shielded. Like Pit he was going to take Ironhide down with him just because he'd fragged up, and there was no reason to make it worse for either of them by giving the mech the added effects of the full, nasty range of emotions from the Seeker through that bond.

He heard the sound of metal against metal somewhere behind him as Ironhide moved and a few moments later the mech appeared at his side, staring at the grey sky and the runways and the ocean and probably not really seeing any of it. A glance at the darker mech, then back to staring into the distance as he managed to force aside the Seeker for long enough to keep his voice even and normal and keep the worst of their united issues from showing.

“Thank you.”

For not firing, for being willing to but not doing it, for trusting him, for not keeping that cannon aimed at him even now... he didn't say it but he suspected that Ironhide knew, anyway, and that suspicion was confirmed in the long silence and the slight nod he got in response. He almost lowered his shields a little to see if he could feel anything from Ironhide but he dismissed the idea as soon it appeared in his processors. He didn't doubt that his sort-of-maybe bond-mate had plenty to deal with already and getting an accidental dose of Will's emotions for added fun when his control of the bond slipped was not something Ironhide needed.

The sky was hidden behind clouds, his own restlessness and nagging anger growing increasingly urgent with every passing second, with every endless minute that dragged on as he could do nothing but wait and trust in Ratchet and their Prime, and dull grey wings shuddered slightly.

“I could just take off.” He wasn't aware that he had spoken out loud until he saw Ironhide shift in the corner of his optic, and that ever-present feeling of dread in his fuel tanks intensified with the realisation.

Slag.

They had enough to deal with, enough stupid frag-ups to handle, and he was supposed to be a trained soldier and slagging well able to show just a minimum of self-control, and his hands flexed restlessly as he tried to figure out a way to do damage control.

Lucky for him, he didn't have to.

“But you won't,” Ironhide said and there was no question at all in his voice. “That's the Seeker talking, Lennox. Starscream's a cowardly glitch but he's not exactly unusual for the breed. It comes with the ego. Either they turn and run the moment they're outnumbered or they're so sure they're above the rest of us that they stay and fight no matter what. The first option are the survivors. Corner them on the ground and they'll be off, comrades in arms be fragged. In the sky...” A soft snort. “You've seen them. They have those egos for a reason. Why fight in the dirt with the rest of us when they've got wings and missiles and they're too fast for us to get a proper target lock on them half the time?”

Why play by the rules when you're on top of the food chain, Will realised, translating the sudden surge of annoyance and arrogance and smug pride from the Seeker into something he could actually work with. Seekers own the sky. They have frontliners for the rest.

And wasn't that just comforting to know, too. Another thing on the long list of issues he planned to bring up with Primus in painful, graphic details at the first possible chance he got. Which, on second thought, hopefully wouldn't be that soon, considering that Ironhide would have his aft if he got himself killed or had to turn that cannon on him.

“So you're telling me that if Prime's still willing to let me fight after this, dumping me in the middle of a battle is likely to end up with me pulling a Starscream at the first sign of trouble,” Will said flatly and ignored the sudden, conspicuous silence from the Seeker and its vague feeling of disgust at ground-pounders who didn't understand their place in life.

“Maybe.” Ironhide sounded thoughtful and Will wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. At least it meant the mech was giving the answer some serious thought, whatever said answer might end up being. “I doubt it, though. Be honest, Lennox. You pulled a weapon on a fellow Autobot and between the two of us, I'm guessing that bird-brain there in your processors intended to take the shot, too.” Silence followed as Will didn't object and Ironhide continued a moment later. “What do you think the consequences are going to be?”

Good question. What would he have done in Prime's situation? He had been a leader himself but this was something else entirely. He'd had superiors and endless lists of rules and regulations to lean on if it had ever been needed. Optimus...

… Should recognise the importance of a Seeker and put that waste of metal of a frontliner in his place before someone less merciful decides to do it for him, that presence in his mind snarled, temper flaring and then forcibly pushed aside again by Will.

He sighed mentally and ignored the silent hiss from the Seeker before it curled up in the back of his mind and plotted bloody vengeance on the world around it as it nursed its wounded pride. The Seeker would have fired on Sideswipe, Will had realised that soon after it had recovered from its shock and let its anger out in full force. It would have torn the mech to pieces if given half the chance and there would have been no regret at all, and that scared Will more than anything. Autobot or not, it was a Seeker above anything else, with a Seeker's ego and instincts, and every one of said instincts in Will's processors told him that Sideswipe would have had it coming for daring to challenge him in the first place, training session or not.

The sound of intakes venting by his side reminded him that Ironhide was waiting for an answer, and Will pushed aside the anger and fury as much as he could to clear his mind. He was stalling and they both knew it.

What would he have done in Prime's place? Easy.

“Best case scenario? No weapons and grounded until sometime after the end of the world,” Will said quietly and kept watching a depressingly grey sky that suddenly looked a lot more appealing than it had a moment before. “Worst case? Treason. In reality, probably some middle ground. Lock me in the brig and throw away the key until something can be done to fix this slag. We were both to blame. It wasn't just the Seeker, and even if it was... you can't really punish one without targeting the other, too.”

“And still, you're here,” Ironhide agreed in the same quiet voice. “You could take off but you're not going to. If you were, you'd have been off the moment I turned my cannon away from you. Yeah, the Seeker's there and it's telling you to get the frag out of here but if you're not listening now, I don't think battle is going to be a problem.”

Unless we have a run-in with Starscream, or Megatron, or any other 'Con the thing might be interested in, Will didn't correct because they had enough to deal with as it was and it wasn't a thought he wanted to linger on. He still had the memories of graphic fantasies in his processors and he really didn't want to get a rerun of them any time soon. Or ever.

“I'm a fragging schizophrenic nympho with the brains and common sense of a teenager,” Will bit out. “Are you sure Primus isn't a Decepticon sympathizer? Because at this rate, I'll be more of a danger to you than the slagging 'Cons are.”

The Seeker snarled in the back of his mind even as Ironhide snorted. “You're a Seeker. They've always had issues. You were brought back with blue optics and Autobot insignias, Lennox. You're one of us. Yeah, you're a bad-tempered pain in the aft and a danger to your surroundings, but so are Sideswipe and the twins most days. Nobody sane and stable got through the War in one piece. You're a Seeker now but it's still better than being dead.”

Point. Even if Will had his doubts some mornings when the Seeker had been at its worst and today hadn't helped on it at all. He could deal with the temper and the general annoyance with the world but the violence and the near-constant, snarled insults in the back of his mind about worthless, wingless piles of scrap... the Seeker might be mentally young but that didn't make it any less dangerous than a proper one, and Ratchet's words about the effects of not interfacing rang in his mind. Unpleasant to be around, his aft. The thing was nothing short of a danger to its surroundings and if that was what Megatron was dealing with in keeping Starscream around, Big and Ugly had a lot bigger balls than Will had given him credit for.

You could just take off.

That voice in the back of his mind again and this time Will snapped back.

We'd be leaving the others behind. Is that what you want? Sarah, Ironhide, Ratchet... he didn't need to add the names as flickers of images from the Seeker told him that it knew perfectly well what he was talking about and a bit of the restless, angry annoyance was replaced by uncertainty.

If we take off now, they're going to shoot us out of the sky and lock us up the first time we show up again, he continued, mingling his own images of windowless cells and pain and claustrophobia to the images from his winged partner.

He knew what buttons to hit and it obviously worked as his wings shuddered instinctively and the walls started to close in until the Seeker got its response back under control – and if he had been less focused on trying to avert a disaster in the making, he would have been surprised at the fact that it was actually learning and capable of more than just going with whatever emotion took it.

The anger faded for a moment, was gone and replaced by images of Ironhide; strong and relentless and dominant; of the soft feeling of warmth in his hand when Sarah had rested there and the alien feeling of organic life, and the Seeker went through a rapid series of emotions – guilt-grief-loss-possessiveness-pride-anger – and then it settled for one with a fierceness that made every mental alarm in Will's mind go off.

Mine.

Not if you leave. Like frag Ironhide would pack up and leave the Prime he had served since before the War because of one Seeker, however attached he might be to it, and there was no way he was going to tear Sarah away from everything she had ever known because he'd had to go play hero and ended up more than a bit mental.

Anger coursed through his processors from the Seeker; disgust and distrust and decisiveness and beneath it all, a bone-deep song of battle and rage and sheer lust for violence that made Will's mind reel, and the images that followed were a chaotic mess of torn armour and bleeding Energon and the lust of victory, blue and red yielding under claws, and-

Then we will claim them. If he is too weak to rein in his frontliners, he does not deserve to rule. Worthless ground-pounder, that familiar voice snarled even as Will's mind flinched away. We are a Seeker. We will claim what is ours and we will rule if he is too weak to keep what is his.

He is a Prime, Will bit back.

A Prime, a friend, a commanding officer, and what the Seeker was suggesting was way past acceptable programming quirks and well into the realm of flat-out treason and Will clenched his hands and tried to force the images aside, familiar blue and red and bleeding Energon, Megatron kneeling and Starscream at his side, and-

He is weak. They are all weak. We will claim and we will rule and we will end this war that the wingless bits of scrap are too weak to finish.

Anger-fury-rage, red-hot and burning and all-consuming as it made its way through his mind, and Will did the only thing he could do.

“'Hide...” Low, desperate, barely reined-in panic behind it, and then the feeling of something calming against their bond, chasing away the worst of that initial, instinctive desperation as rage fought to take over and his hands flexed subconsciously, a silent threat of barely-contained violence.

Help.

“Ratchet is on his way,” the darker mech responded quietly, firmly, and maybe it was general information, maybe Ironhide had summoned him, but whatever the case, all Will could do was nod mutely and push against the overwhelming desire to tear through the skies, prove his dominance, and claim his mates for all to see.


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


Ratchet knew something was wrong before he ever set foot in the hangar. A wordless demand to get his aft there faster than his current speed, that uncharacteristic annoyance from the would-be bond tainted by faint panic that he had no doubt came from the human, and even the less-than-a-minute it took him to get there was too long for him.

That was a Seeker in there – a short-tempered, angry, armed Seeker – and William Lennox had never been the type to panic about anything, and that was all Ratchet needed to know that something had gone very, very wrong.

He took a brief look around as he transformed just outside the hangar – Will, Ironhide, hangar, no one else around – and then took in the body language of his patient, and that brief look was all it took to make his decision.

Find something to do, he told Ironhide over their bond. Now.

His voice left no room for arguments and while Ratchet had no doubts that the weapon specialist was unhappy with the order to say the least, he only paused for a moment before he nodded sharply and stalked off in the direction of the training grounds, the hum of a charging cannon leaving no doubt about what he intended to do once he got there.

One problem handled, Ratchet took a look at the second one. Clawed fingers, raised wings, blazing optics, and he took a moment to consider his approach before he decided on one.

“Lennox.” A sharp order more than anything – because slag it, Ratchet hadn't been made CMO because he had a pretty aft – and the way the Seeker startled slightly and narrowed its optics in obvious annoyance didn't improve Ratchet's mood at all.

This time he didn't even try to pretend to be harmless. His EMP generator might have been made for medical purposes but at short range it could still stun a mech, and the Seeker didn't even have time to defend itself before it was on the ground as its body gave out, metal hitting concrete with a hard sound.

One, two steps and he was next to it, kneeling and grabbing one wing-joint hard, and he was rewarded by the slight widening of optics as the Seeker half, at least, understood the seriousness of the threat.

“Would you like to tell me what that was about, Lennox?” Still sharp, still proving his dominance, and the figure under his hand shuddered slightly as optics flickered and the glow returned to a more normal level.

“Try treason,” Will whispered harshly – and there was no doubt at all in Ratchet that this was the human in charge for the moment – and then optics shuttered and the tension in his frame eased as the human stopped fighting. “Should have let him take the shot.”

Treason – against them, against the humans, against Ironhide or their Prime, Ratchet had no way to know for sure. The would-be bond was still there, temptingly close and so easy to reach out and strengthen, every answer he wanted easily within reach without having to deal with the stubbornness of the Seeker and the human both, and Ratchet gave a still Seeker-like mental snarl at the thought to chase it away.

“More details than that would make my task easier,” he said instead, and while his voice wasn't as hard as Will's had been, the hand on the wing didn't relent.

“Treason,” Will repeated, less harshly and more tired this time, and the still-weak body under Ratchet's hand gave up its last bit of resistance against his grip as Will yielded. “It's pissed at Sideswipe for challenging it, it's pissed at all of you for not letting it get even with him, and it's pissed at Prime for not teaching Sides respect for it in the first place. You and Hide have both put that thing in its place before. It respects you. Optimus...”

Optimus hasn't, Ratchet finished the sentence and felt an uncomfortably familiar feeling of dread settle in his processors, images of Starscream against Megatron, and he forced aside those thoughts before they could get any more detailed.

Core programming, not the kind that made up the Seeker's personality, and even if he could tear out that Seeker influence completely, that core programming would still be there, still demand its rightful place and respect, still demand to be worshipped and treated like its pride demanded. That pride and anger was core programming. Mating instincts could be fought. That ego couldn't.

“You can't get rid of it, can you?” Will asked quietly. “You'd already have torn that thing a new one if you thought it would've helped.”

“It is core programming,” Ratchet agreed and settled for honesty. “Even if I banished that Seeker to the deepest, darkest parts of your processors, it would still appear when its pride was threatened. It would not be able to help it.”

Silence. A whisper of fear through that weak, weak bond, optics darkening for a moment, and then Will shuddered.

“So I'm turning into Starscream and there's nothing you can do about it? All this because I didn't...” he trailed off and didn't even seem willing to say the word for the moment, so Ratchet did it for him.

“Interface? No,” he responded quietly. “Your temper is a result of that and it makes your... less charming lines of codes more obvious but it would have been there, anyway. Starscream is a unique case. I don't think his programming ever worked quite as it should. You are a Seeker, Will. For what it is worth, this is not uncommon in your build. Seekers respect strength. Sometimes, they simply have to be reminded that mere ground-pounders can be something to be respected, too.”

Will's mind obviously knew where that line of reasoning was going because he snorted softly a moment later – tired, weary, but not entirely ready to give up completely. “I don't think Optimus is going to like that much.”

“A good thing, then, that I am not asking him to like it,” Ratchet said quietly. “It has been too long since he has last commanded Seekers. He's gotten out of practice.”

“So beat the slag out of the Seeker, then,” Will concluded and sighed. “Frag it. 'Hide is bad enough as it is.”

“A training lesson” Ratchet corrected and was satisfied to notice not just the bit of humour in Will's words but the distinct lack of panic coming from that weak bond as well.

“Potato, potahto,” Will muttered and Ratchet made a point of snorting as he turned his attention to
his comm link to contact his Prime. The bond could wait. They had more important things to handle first.


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


Ironhide had long since learned to control his temper. As much as said temper could be an advantage in the heat of battle, it could be just as dangerous when allowed to run uncontrolled. Today, however, was definitely not one of his better days. Quite rightfully, he blamed the bond with his human-turned-Seeker partner for most of it, too, however much he might try to shield it, and the tried and true Ironhide solution to those days usually resulted in rather massive amounts of destruction.

On Diego Garcia, that translated to shooting the ever-loving slag out of every piece of scrap on the Autobot scale shooting range that was big enough to hit, and Ironhide had been prepared to do just that when he had arrived and found that he was not the only one with that idea.

Both cannons already charging, Ironhide stared at Robert Epps. The human arched an eyebrow and stared right back and silently dared the mech to say a thing about it.

“The targets,” Ironhide finally said over his comm link, tapping into the receiver in Epps' ear protection, “are bigger than you are. I was under the impression that NEST had shooting ranges more suitable for your size.”

Epps snorted and returned his attention to said targets, bringing his gun back up. “And if I go there, I'm just gonna get another slag-pile of paperwork.” Two shots, fired with more aggression than the man usually displayed, and then he lowered the weapon again and looked back at Ironhide. “You're in a piss-ass mood today.”

An exaggeration. Mostly. Ironhide merely snorted in return and brought up his own weapons, and the world exploded in the deafening roar and blinding light of twin cannon blasts striking true, target after target obliterated as aggression turned into anger turned into energy, and when he lowered the cannons again a full minute later, it was to the sight of several new craters in the ground and the last, pathetic bits of half-melted metallic rubble from his last target falling from the sky.

Epps, he noticed, had stopped shooting his own inferior Earth-based weapon and put it aside in favour of watching the show instead.

Long seconds passed and the human looked at him again; fleeting, tired worry in his features that Ironhide had become all too familiar with over the course of their few years on this new planet.

“That bad?” Epps commented and for a moment Ironhide was silent, not actually sure what to say. He wasn't even sure himself. Will had asked for help and Ratchet had arrived and proceeded to kick Ironhide out. That wouldn't have been a good sign in any situation, much less one dealing with something as volatile as a Seeker. On the other hand, Ratchet hadn't contacted him again in the four minutes and twenty-two seconds that his processors informed him had passed since he had left. That, perhaps, meant that the medic had the situation firmly under control. At least, he liked to think that the mech would have contacted him if things had gone from bad to worse.

“I am not a medic,” Ironhide finally settled for.

This time it was Epps' turn to snort as he took off the heavy ear protection. “That wasn't what I asked. Frag it, Ironhide. He's my friend and no one's willing to tell me slag. You scared the crap out of my people this morning and I heard some interesting stories from ground control about something big, winged, and fugly pointing a Gatling gun at Sideswipe not even half an hour ago. You gonna tell me what the frag's going on or do I have to start jumping to conclusions? 'Cause let me tell you, I'm Air Force, and we're fragging good at jumping.”

Silence. Some days, Ironhide really missed the time when their small allies had actually been intimidated enough to simply agree with whatever they were told, and then realised a moment later that it had never been the case in the first place for this particular one of the breed. The Sector Seven humans had feared them for the most part. The new recruits, however well-prepared they might think themselves, took months to stop being edgy around them or jump at the sound of Ironhide's cannons. The small group of survivors from Qatar and Mission City, however...

Decision made, Ironhide snorted. “Do so, and I will inform Ratchet of your failure to care for your health and that you will need to be kept under surveillance in the interest of your future well-being.”

Epps did seem to falter at that but only for a moment before he frowned, a determined look on his face. “I see your medic and raise you a radio. In fact, why don't we call him right now and I can ask him instead?” He picked up said small radio from a pocket and dangled it in front of Ironhide. “I'm sure he'll be a lot more cooperative if I promise to sic the whole fragging lot of NEST on your ass to hunt you down as a training exercise next time you go AWOL from a medical exam.”

And yes, Ironhide also missed the days when he could intimidate someone with his cannons and not get chewed out by Optimus Prime in the process, and while the human had realistically no way of knowing about the current situation for sure, Ironhide still suspected that the man had chosen that course of action for a reason.

“He's there, ain't he? He's with Ratchet,” Epps continued and confirmed Ironhide's suspicion, radio still in hand. “I'm not stupid, man. You're pissy and Will and Ratchet ain't here, so I'm guessing you got kicked out. What do you say?”

Silence again, and this time Ironhide's processors took long seconds to react as they wondered just how to handle the situation. “Are you attempting to play 'chicken' with me, human?”

“Slag 'attempting',” Epps snorted. “I'd say I'm doing pretty damn well. Answers or medic. Which one's it gonna be? I've got paperwork to do and I've been waiting way too long already for one of you to show up here to get some answers from as it is.”

And lack of intimidation or not, sometimes Ironhide was reminded, too, why he put up with those allies in the first place. They were small and fragile and with pathetically weak weapons but they had the bearings and reckless insanity to pull off the plans that anyone even moderately normal would have put aside as impossible... and that, perhaps, while not something to be encouraged overly much, was still an admirably trait in them.

“He is... less than stable,” Ironhide finally said and judging by the small nod he received in return, it only confirmed what Epps had already guessed to some extent. “He asked for Ratchet's assistance. He did not offer any details.”

No details, true, but even the fact that he'd asked for their medic spoke volumes to Ironhide and the way he'd asked wasn't exactly comforting, either. Ironhide had known very few warriors who were willing to ask for a medic for anything less than a dire emergency and Lennox had never been one of them.

“So it's serious,” Epps guessed and returned the radio to its designated pocket again. He watched Ironhide for several seconds, looking for something that the mech wasn't even sure of, and then the human sighed. “People keep saying 'Seeker' to me like it's supposed to explain everything but it doesn't. I'm human, Ironhide. I don't have a slagging clue about this. If you can't tell me as the boss of NEST, then tell me as someone who's supposed to watch his back in the field. He'd have done the same for me.”

Translated, Ironhide knew, the human wouldn't stop asking. He would keep up his enquiries until someone caved or was sufficiently annoyed to give him what he wanted, and Ironhide understood. He might not appreciate having those tactics used on himself but he understood. In a different situation, he would have done the same for the people he called friends.

Optimus had only given orders about how to handle those humans on Diego Garcia that did not find themselves in regular contact with Cybertronians – Lennox' NEST team, after all, knew what had happened, as did his mate and the Witwicky kid – and there was only so long they could keep the realities of the situation hidden. Out of all the humans, Epps was one of the ones who would have the most contact with their new Seeker, in the event that Lennox ever turned out permanently stable enough to take that risk.

It would perhaps be better for all involved if the human in question had been given the time to come to terms with the situation, then, too.

“This information will go no further than you,” Ironhide said flatly.

The words were a statement more than anything but Epps nodded, anyway, and offered a frown in return that looked more than a bit angry at the fact that he would even imply that it was necessary to say as much.

“I can keep a secret,” he responded just as flatly, daring Ironhide to say anything at all to that. The mech, however, simply nodded in return and powered down his massive cannons completely before he gestured for the human to make himself comfortable on a nearby chunk of concrete.

“Seekers are fundamentally different from any other build of Cybertronian,” he began, and under the grey skies of Diego Garcia, a human figure listened attentively as its mechanical counterpart explained.


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


Optimus, predictably, had been less than enthusiastic about the situation. Not that Will could blame him much. While Ironhide and Sideswipe struck him as the types to be downright cheerful about getting to beat the slag out of someone for training purposes, Optimus had never been that type. Oh, he was absolutely lethal in battle, Will had seen enough to know that without shadow of doubt, but he had never been the type to revel in violence in the way that Sideswipe seemed to, and much less when the target in question was a friend, too.

Optimus had not liked the thought at all, and Ratchet's silent conversation with him had made things only marginally better. Will wasn't sure what the medic had told him but he could imagine it was one of those conversations there was really no good way to handle. 'He's going schizo on us again and needs to have his processors beaten back into place', probably, if in more medically-correct terms... not that Will knew what those would be.

The Seeker had responded when Optimus had appeared in the hangar but nothing that the combined efforts of Will and Ratchet couldn't keep in check – medic and reluctant to fight or not, Ratchet had put the fear of Primus into the thing – and by the time the two mechs had finished their discussions, the effects of Ratchet's EMP generator had worn off enough for Will to be back on his feet again, absentmindedly moving one limb after another to test that everything was back to... if not normal, then as normal as it would ever get in his new body.

The Seeker watched Optimus Prime with unconcealed annoyance even as the human part focused on Ratchet as the mech spoke, and if that wasn't a recipe for insanity in the making, he didn't know what was.

“A training session like the ones you have been put through by Ironhide would be the safest option,” Ratchet explained. “I am aware that Optimus has an advantage with his blades, so unarmed combat would be-”

Weak, the Seeker snarled from where it waited impatiently in the back of his processors and sharpened its mental claws, a predator eyeing a potential challenger for its domain.

Ratchet arched what would have passed for an eyebrow and only then did Will realise he had spoken the word out loud. “Weak,” he repeated with a sigh and tried to translate alien emotions into something that made sense as he looked at Optimus instead. “It says that unarmed combat would be weak. Sorry, sir, but you would be holding back.”

Optimus nodded slowly. “It would not accept the outcome.” A glance at the medic, exchanging more silent words, and then he nodded. “Close quarters combat, then, as humans would call it. Would it use its firearms?”

A quick successions of emotions and images, lingering on the brief fight against Sideswipe, and Will waited another moment to be completely sure the thing wouldn't argue before he raised his head slightly. “Not in a fight like this, sir. War would be different. This is...”

About ego, about pride, about showing off, and there wasn't much of that in just gunning someone down. Up close and personal took a lot more skill to handle – skills that Will knew without doubt that neither he nor the Seeker actually had, but if the bird-brain was too stupid to understand that, then Will would fragging cheerfully put up with an aft-kicking if it managed to put the damn thing back in its place again.

“Close combat,” Ratchet agreed when Will didn't continue. “The training grounds would be suitable, then. He doesn't have close combat weapons but those hands are not without their use...” A glance at Will. “And neither are his wings.”

Weak, the Seeker sent again, dark annoyance following the word as Will felt its patience rapidly slip again, Ratchet nearby to rein it in or not. This is not battle. This is groundling weakness. A Seeker would have fought. Pathetic waste of Energon.

Will didn't respond to that – because really, what could he say that wasn't going to send the thing into another furious rant – and instead he looked at Ratchet again. “Ironhide should be there.”

In case something went too far, in case he became dangerous, however unlikely that might be, and the Seeker added its smug agreement, images of claiming the dark mech in triumphant, bloodied victory flickering through their shared processors. Will didn't bother arguing, not if it meant getting Ironhide there without the Seeker bitching to high hell about it.

Ratchet nodded and Will didn't need to ask to know that the mech was speaking silently with Ironhide. A moment later he glanced back at Will, something in his expression that Will didn't quite recognise as he watched him carefully. “Ironhide is currently in the company of Robert Epps on the shooting range.”

It took Will a second to realise why he should actually care, much less what Ratchet was asking, and when he did, he tensed before he could help it.

Bobby.

Small, fragile, vulnerable, human... but Ratchet was asking, wasn't he, or he would just have ordered Ironhide's aft back, company be fragged. Long seconds stretched out as Ratchet watched him, waiting for the answer, and Will's wings shifted slightly, silent tension in them before he could stop it.

Ratchet wouldn't have asked if he'd thought Will would be a danger to his human friend, and that meant that he honestly wanted Will's opinion on the matter, and that scared Will more than he cared to admit. On one hand it was a friend who had already seen him several times in his new body, however briefly; someone who was used to the weirdness of Diego Garcia and wouldn't run away screaming at the sight; someone human and normal and familiar. On the other hand, he was definitely not at his best and he was about to get the slag kicked out of him because the Seeker was too stupid to know what it was doing.

Ignoring the angry snarl from the Seeker at that particular thought, he turned his attention back to Ratchet. “Will it...” Will it be a danger, will it mind, will it be a good idea, will-

“Why don't you ask it?” Ratchet suggested, and if he had been annoyed at what Will had belatedly realised might be taken as implying he would deliberately put a human at risk, he didn't show it.

It was a nice, simple, reasonable idea, and with the Seeker's current mood, it was something Will really didn't want to to do, either. He didn't think he had much of a choice, though, and with a wordless thought, he focused on that alien presence in his processors and shifted through the images he got in response.

Jumbled, confused – anger at Optimus, annoyance at the time it all took, smugness at the thought of Ironhide watching, and digging deeper he found an echo of a bit of the same smugness joined by bemusement at the thought of the human. Small, weak, fragile, but not a danger, and Will slowly released the tension in his wings.

“It wouldn't mind,” he finally said. Winning, the Seeker would have another member of the audience to admire it. Losing... wasn't a concept that even registered in its mind, and Will doubted anything short of a thorough defeat would help on that, either.

“And you?” Ratchet asked, still with that unreadable look, and Will raised his head slightly, defiantly.

“He's a friend. I'll have to deal with him sooner or later. So maybe I'm still so fragged up I'd make Starscream look sane but he's probably going to see that sooner or later, anyway. Might as well make it now.”

Whatever Ratchet had been looking for, he apparently found it, because Will got a satisfied nod in return.

“Then it is settled. They will meet us on the training grounds. Optimus?”

The larger mech merely nodded a confirmation in that solemn, regal way that still impressed Will sometimes, and then they walked out of the hangar and into the overcast world of Diego Garcia.

If the Seeker had any doubts about the whole clusterfrag, Will realised, it hid them well.


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


If asked afterwards, Will Lennox would not have been able to say if it had been a horrible mistake or a really fragging good idea. A mix of both, probably, like most things he had found himself doing since he learned about the existence of giant, alien robots. His bad temper courtesy of one annoying as slag, interface-deprived Seeker didn't help at all, either, and maybe that was why he had gone along with said idea. Temporary insanity and all.

The walk to the training grounds had felt longer than it had any right to and the Seeker had been caught somewhere between anger at the time it took – Seekers, Will had quickly learned, weren't big believers in waiting for anything – and smug, proud satisfaction at the fight that was about to start.

Images flickered through his mind, lingering on one or two before they moved on with no say whatsoever from Will – torn plating, Optimus on his knees, Ironhide's hands on his wings in reverent worship and acknowledgement of his rightful place as a superior being, and Will pushed back as much as he could, adding a mental snort for good measure.

You're delusional. You're going to get your aft slagged in fifteen seconds flat. Twenty if he's feeling nice.

He had expected to get annoyance in return but not the miffed feeling of the Seeker being insulted that came with it, memories of their first proper talk in recharge in Ratchet's infirmary following right on its tail. Annoyance, anger, hesitation, agreement-

We agreed on a truce, the Seeker said, affronted. I keep my word.

'Truce' didn't include helping you do your damn best to kill my commanding officer because you need to get laid, Will snapped back.

More images – that same torn plating and the impression that the wounds weren't as bad as they looked, dominance for the sake of peace, of protection, of prosperity instead of raw power – and Will shuddered imperceptibly as the Seeker turned its full siren song of power-freedom-flight-control on him.

He is weak. Decepticons kill weakness. We are not Decepticon. He is weak and we will claim what is ours and we will end this war.

You're going to get slagged, Will bit out and shook off the faint haze of agreement that had clouded his processors from the full force of the Seeker's attention. The training grounds came into view, a black metal figure waiting next to a much smaller human one as they approached, and he was quickly running out of time to argue with that other, unwanted part of his processors.

Truce! the Seeker snarled, hard and demanding, and Will almost shuddered at the surge of emotions that followed and made the issue entirely too clear.

Fine, he snarled right back. You think it's going to make a damn bit of a difference if I help? Fine. You got it but you slagging well better accept the outcome when you get your aft kicked, then, because I'm not doing this every fragging week because you're too stupid to get the point.

He wasn't a Seeker, didn't know the first thing about mech-style combat beyond what Ironhide had managed to drill into his skull, but if that was what it would take to shut the damn thing up, then by Primus, he would slagging well do that.

The Seeker went utterly still for a moment and then he felt a wordless agreement before it surged to the forefront of his mind to take over as they approached their battle ground and Will mentally stepped back a bit to let it.

I agree, human. My word as a Seeker.

Ironhide watched him, Epps watched him, Ratchet watched him, but Will didn't care, his attention focused on the Seeker as he forced himself to release the heavy shields he had tried to put up to stay in control. Hesitant and fumbling to begin with, the first time since that initial flight that he had really stopped trying to subconsciously block out the alien influence, and then a chain reaction as the tension that had held it all together suddenly snapped. One mental boulder after another crumbled as Optimus stopped and turned, solid walls falling apart to rocks, to rubble, to sand, and something surged to sweep aside what little dust finally remained.

The Gatling gun forcibly locked without any thought from Will at all, flight systems came online in a flurry of activity, and the deep vibrations of engines humming with barely restrained energy sang through his very body.

Ratchet watched them for a moment, nodded once, firmly, and then he stepped back-

- And a dozen things happened the instant later; the sound of Optimus' swords as they were unsheathed, the song of engines, metal against concrete as two mechs moved, the glow of optics and energy and clouded daylight against polished plating-

- And in the back of Will's processors, something stirred.

Optimus moved, impossibly fast and fluid and lethal, but the Seeker was in the air a moment later, spun and turned even as it tried to strike and missed, and Will heard the song of blades slicing through air, heat and metal and the smell of the generator that powered it all as he barely evaded the weapon.

Faster than 'Bee, faster than Sideswipe, and there was no way in Pit that they could win and Will found he didn't even care. Energon sang in his body, the roar of his engines as even the speed of the Seeker in half-flight couldn't match a Prime, and the fight against Sideswipe had nothing on what they faced now. The Seeker had struggled against Ironhide's lessons, Will had struggled against the attack on Sideswipe, and for the first time they worked together-

- like trine-mates should-

- and the final bits of the puzzle clicked.

Human complimented Seeker complimented human, and searing pain flared through their processors as plating met plating and was dismissed the moment later, and even that sword that almost struck true and was barely deflected in time only made the Energon surge stronger and if he hadn't been so busy fighting to even remain standing, Will would have laughed.

This was battle, this was war, this was unfettered fury, and this was what he was sparked for.

Deep gorges marked red and blue as claws struck hard and were returned with interests as even the Seeker was too slow to evade completely, but even the burn of searing Energon swords couldn't keep back the feeling of pure triumph.

Engines roared again, half-flight and half-combat as he was forced back into the defensive again, and the relentless barrage of attacks that followed was calculated and meticulous and impossible to evade. He retreated against his will, one hard strike after another tearing through his defences, and it was both a testament to Optimus' skill and how much they still had left to learn that neither Will nor the Seeker saw the blow that ended it.

One second they were on their feet, the next they were on the ground, head slamming into concrete to send their processors reeling, and with a flare of molten yellow and a shower of sparks one lethal sword drove into the ground not two feet from Will's head.

It was a statement even the Seeker couldn't have argued against and to Will's surprise, it didn't even try. Temporarily stunned systems came back online, sent painful messages from every sensor node on his wings and a list of damages that was impossibly long for a battle that had lasted less than thirty seconds, and the Seeker didn't even care about that.

“Holy slag,” Will whispered and ran a hand across his still-ringing head.

Energon surged and optics flared in sheer pleasure, and this time Will couldn't hold back a laugh. Harsh, joyous, breathless as intakes worked overtime, and there was clear concern in Optimus' frown as he retracted his swords again.

“Major?”

The Seeker surged in his mind, brilliant and lethal and defiant as it echoed the thrill of it all, and Will didn't know if it was speaking or if he was and it didn't matter, not now, not anymore.

Holy slag, he repeated and heard the Seeker echo the sentiment. Let's-

“- do that again.”


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


“Maybe,” Epps finally said, “someone dropped him on his head as a kid.”

They were waiting by the edge of the training grounds as Ratchet took a look at their resident boss and flyboy both, although it was the latter that needed it most. The whole day had been a roller-coaster of heart-attacks in the making and Epps' tried and true methods of dealing with that were guns and humour, and since he suspected that pulling a gun now would be about as smart as taking on Megatron with a paintball gun, he settled for the second option.

Ironhide shifted next to him – a bit uncomfortably, if Epps read him right, but at least the cannons weren't out, so that was a start. Then again, their boss had proven himself more than capable of hammering their new Seeker into the ground without a problem at all, so it wasn't like those cannons would have been needed, anyway. Their Prime didn't show off often and it was easy to forget just what the big guy was capable of in battle but this particular display wasn't one Epps was likely to forget about any time soon. The guy could take on Megatron one on one. One new Seeker didn't have a chance in hell and Optimus had proven that without a shadow of doubt.

“He is a Seeker now,” the weapons specialist finally sighed in response to Epps' remark. “They are not the most stable of builds.”

Which was a lame-ass excuse and Epps knew it and gave a snort to show just what he thought of it, too. “Like frag. You didn't know him before. He's never been right in the head, so it's not like spouting wings'll make that much of a difference. The slag with Blackout's proof enough of that. Maybe bird-brain likes to fight but I don't exactly think Will's raising high hell in there about it, either.”

That laugher had been alien and static and downright creepy – it was a 'Con build, and a laughing 'Con was a sure way to make any NEST team worth the name reach for their weapons – but that didn't mean half of it couldn't be the human having a blast of a time getting the crap beaten out of him by their boss, even if they'd lost the fight in less than half a minute. It was Lennox in there, after all, and while most Rangers in Epps' opinion were firmly in the range of 'pretty damn special in the head', Lennox really took the prize.

His radio made an insistent sound and at least Epps managed not to sigh as he picked it up. Paperwork, probably, or one of the million not-really-emergencies that NEST was so very capable of – and he had plans to whip them into shape about that sort of crap, but he also knew that Will had already tried as much and not really made much headway at all, which meant it would probably be an uphill battle the entire way.

He really didn't get paid enough to deal with that kind of slag.

“Epps.” Still keeping an eye on the three mechs on the training grounds and one ear on Ironhide, and he gave it two weeks at the most before they could write him off as stark, raving mad from the job... or possibly suitably adjusted to his leadership position, knowing the clusterfuck that NEST sometimes was.

“Commander, this is ground control,” a familiar voice replied – same guy Epps had already talked to once that morning, and while it was a bit unnerving sometimes just how much ground control kept an eye on, he was also learning to appreciate having some extra eyes to keep track of everything for him. Air control had the skies while ground control had Diego Garcia airport itself, but with the amount of runways and hangars the island had, that put a good chuck of the place directly in their domain. They could see a lot more up there than he ever could from ground level and had the experience to know when something didn't look right, and when dealing with giant, alien robots, that could make a whole fragging world of difference. “Is everything under control, sir?”

A long look at the mechs in question – and of course ground control would have noticed; those Energon swords lit up like a fragging Christmas tree – and then Epps shook his head. “Big Buddha and...” A pause as Epps realised he didn't actually know Will's new designation and then decided to play it safe, “... the Seeker got a little carried away with training. Doc's on it. It's under control.”

“Copy that, sir. Thank you.”

Returning the radio to its pocket, Epps watched the small group of mechs for a moment longer before he turned his head to look at Ironhide instead. “Ground control,” he said, unnecessarily. “We'll have to introduce him to the rest of the humans here sooner or later. There's only so long we can tell 'em he's got scrambled processors from being frozen and locked away somewhere before rumours pick up. It doesn't exactly help he looks like Starscream. Blue optics and all the right insignias, sure, but the first thing anyone's gonna notice is the Seeker-thing and then they're gonna start jumping to conclusions. The longer you wait, the harder it's gonna be.”

Ironhide's response was little more than a low rumble. “I am aware.” And he probably was. He sounded annoyed in the same way he usually did when he was reminded of something unpleasant, at least. “It will be Ratchet's decision.”

“You know he ain't that much worse than the twins,” Epps said quietly. “They're a menace any way you look at it, and we learned to cope with them. As long as he keeps in mind he's big and we're small and squishy, we can cope. We adapt, Ironhide. It's humanity in a nutshell. You want him to stay human a little, then fragging well let him hang out with us, too. You're great company but you ain't human.”

Which was true, too, and Ironhide didn't respond as they both kept watching the show on the runway. Ratchet did something to one wing that vaguely reminded Epps of popping a dislocated shoulder back into place and he winced in sympathy when the resulting snarl from Will was clear even at their distance. Ironhide had mentioned that the things were touchy about their wings and the body language Epps saw now only cemented that fact. The wings swept back the moment Ratchet let go-

-don't touch that!-

- And Epps' lips twitched slightly in almost-amusement. “Expressive, ain't he?”

Ironhide snorted. “They wear their emotions on their wings. They act first and think later. Whatever their first reaction is, they will usually show it. The 'Con slaggers have been at it for long enough to learn but they are still only passable at it. Pay attention to the wings and you will know what goes on in his processors. He has enough self-control to hide some of it but not when he forgets to pay attention.”

Focusing on the wings this time, Epps could see his point. Ratchet moved on to something on Will's arm and the wings slowly swept forward again as the medic stopped paying attention to them. Optimus said something or another that Epps couldn't make out at that distance, and the wings perked a bit in what he assumed was interest. Autobots as a general rule didn't do body language to nearly the same extent that humans did but it was there if you knew what to look for. With Seekers, you obviously didn't have to look very hard.

“There's no way to hide him, is there?” Epps commented dryly as he realised something else. “You can pretend to be a truck. He turns into a plane and he's gonna to forget about realism the moment something shiny shows up, ain't he?”

“He is a Seeker,” Ironhide replied just as dryly and Epps was starting to get the impression that it really was the catch-all explanation to everything Will-related now. “By definition, they were meant to be displayed. They were a powerful force on Cybertron and saw no reason to hide what they were. Why should it be any different on a planet populated by organic creatures they see as so far beneath their notice that you may as well not be sentient at all?”

Which made entirely too much sense when put that way and Epps resisted the urge to sigh. The mental list of things that needed handled was steadily growing longer, and the more time he spent around his former boss in Seeker-shape, the more clear the nightmare visions of future stacks of paperwork got. Ironhide and Sideswipe and the twins were bad enough when they got going. He really didn't look forward to seeing what sort of incidents a Seeker could cause when it really got started, and he knew his friend well enough to know that even without that Seeker-brain in there, he'd still have been a disaster looking for a place to happen. Will Lennox had been bad enough with Earth-based, human-sized weapons. Thirty feet tall and armed with a Gatling gun and missiles...

“I'm blaming any ulcer on you guys,” Epps finally said. “You and Primus. Just sayin'.”

Ironhide snorted but Epps knew enough of his body language to see the amusement in it. “If so, it will only be reasonable to leave you in Ratchet's capable hands if the need arises.”

“His bedside manners suck. Try it and I'll stick a tracker on your ass before your next check-up.”

“I could let you walk back, human,” the weapon specialist rumbled.

“Half an hour more I can't do paperwork? Ain't much of a threat.”

There was the low rumble of an engine but the dark mech didn't comment and Epps felt himself cheer up a little at the slice of almost-normal life in the middle of the chaos of everything else. Wouldn't do much good in the long run, probably, but for now it might help his patience last a little longer before he snapped at someone – god knew he had a list a mile long of people who needed reamed.

Silence fell once more as Ratchet grabbed one of Will's hands firmly to examine it and the wings swept back again in obvious annoyance... and for a long, absurd moment, Epps was reminded of nothing so much as a huffy pigeon. That mental image didn't quite compute with the thirty-foot metal creature he was staring at – although it would probably make their next run-in with Starscream marginally more entertaining – and he almost managed to turn his sudden laugh into a cough instead.

Almost. Ironhide gave him a questioning look, and Epps waved his hand dismissively. “'S nothing.” Another glance at the Seeker and he took the chance to ask a question that had been pretty near top of the to-do list since the whole mess had kicked off. “What's his designation, anyway?”

The Cybertronians, 'Bots and 'Cons alike, tended to have some pretty damn creative names – fitting in most cases, but still pretty damn creative most of the time – and from what he knew about Seekers, they were about as determined to be special little snowflakes when it came to that as in any other area. Names like Starscream, Skywarp, and Thundercracker didn't exactly inspire confidence in whatever name someone might have thought up for the most recent member of the pigeon-squad, so when Ironhide replied with a short series of Cybertronian sounds that were very alien and very, very incomprehensible, Epps just stared at him for a moment.

Ironhide had obviously noticed because he repeated the sounds a moment later, slower and clearer – not that it helped Epps' comprehension of it any. Although there was something about the sounds...

“Again,” he said with a slight frown and this time he paid close attention when Ironhide complied. Alien sounds, sure, but not as alien as it could have been based on the times he had heard their large, mechanical allies speak Cybertronian among themselves, and with a bit of adaptation...

“Again.” He definitely had Ironhide's curiosity as the mech complied again, and this time he nodded once, determined as the sounds faded. Not as alien as it could have been and hell, he had been around the Autobots for long enough to get at least a vague feel for the language and if that was how they wanted to play, he wasn't about to back down.

Epps looked at Ironhide as he repeated the sounds right back at him, slowly and carefully, duplicating what he could and adapting to a human voice what he couldn't, but he was too tired from everything that had happened to manage much more than a wry smile when Ironhide's optics shuttered in a very human display of brief surprise. “Now, what's the English version of what you just said?”

Ironhide was silent for a long moment as he glanced at the being in question. “Cybertronians names are complicated. They carry more layers than our human-based designations do. An approximation of major Lennox's would be in the range of 'dominant-strong-stubborn-unyielding'.”

It took less than a second for that description to click for Epps and not much longer to realise why Ironhide had given him the Cybertronian designation first.

“Will. His designation is Will.” Ironhide merely nodded and Epps had no idea of how to react – relief that there was enough of his friend in there to keep the name, worry about how to handle it, and in the end he simply closed his eyes and resisted the urge to rub his temples at the beginnings of a headache. “People are gonna to ask questions. You know that. We can get away with saying he got stuck in ice and kept as a lab-rat in that hellhole but no fragging way we can get away with calling him 'Will' and not have people wonder what the hell's going on.”

“It was his choice,” Ironhide responded and whatever he might feel about that, he didn't show.

Silence fell again as they both returned to watching the show on the training grounds, some comment or another from Ratchet that made Optimus shift with a vaguely guilty expression. Probably trying to get out of a closer look at the claw-marks on his armour, going by their boss' usual reluctance when it came to medical attention, although with Ratchet around, it would be a lost cause.

Will shifted again, wings sweeping back and up in a grand gesture of what Epps suspected was smugness, and he felt something inside of him twist painfully. They couldn't call him 'Will', not without raising a whole lot of questions they didn't want to answer, and they couldn't take the name from him, not when it was the only thing human left about him. Rock and a hard place and Epps had long since stopped counting how many times he had wished he could go back and change things and stop it from ever happening in the first place. Before had been good, before had been comfortable, before had been a well-oiled 'Con-killing machine... now they had to get used to new dynamics, a new human commander, and a Seeker that was rapidly teaching Epps just why the things had such a reputation in the first place.

Reputation. Something about that word clicked and Epps looked back to Ironhide, some vague idea slowly taking shape. “Our team knows what happened and we're known for being a bit...” A bit strange on a good day and well into 'insane' on a bad one, and Epps took a slow breath before he continued. “A bit off in the head already, even for a NEST team. We ain't known for being normal. In-team, 'Will' could work. If anyone else picks up on it, it could be explained with us being a bit off in the head and using it as a way to remember him.” Another long pause as he tried to figure out how to put it into words right. “You said they've got ego. We call the 'Con fraggers by human designations but we want to piss 'em off. Will's on our side. Could we get away with using that? Say the pigeon doesn't want a name in an inferior language like the human ones. Call him 'the Seeker' if they can't pronounce the Cybertronian one, and don't use an Earth-based designation at all. He gets to keep his name where it matters and we don't get to deal with a slagload of questions we can't answer. If someone wants a translation, tell 'em the same you told me – Cybertronian names got layers so if they want it right, they gotta go ask him themselves. I guarantee you nobody's gonna take you up on that offer.”

And maybe it was a stupid idea but frag it, it was all he had to work with and if it wasn't because he got where Lennox was coming from, he would have chewed him out for keeping the name in the first place. As it was, he would settle for damage control and kick up security around the human-turned-Seeker's small human family and make a point of using that human name whenever he could.

“It would be a suitable solution,” Ironhide agreed, and the smooth agreement made Epps suspect he was going over things the Autobots had already decided on. Not that it really mattered in this case. He would feel a bit annoyed at being left out of the loop but this was also Autobot business, not human, and he could deal with it, too.

On the training ground Ratchet made a sharp-sounding comment that Epps couldn't quite make out, and then the medic made some firm gestures in the general direction of the infirmary. Optimus and Will both looked like they wanted to argue for a second, and then common sense took over and they followed along without further complaints. It was probably for the better, too, Epps mused. He had seen enough wounded mechs to know some serious injuries when he saw them and going by appearances, Will could use some medical attention.

“Ratchet's gonna have his aft,” Epps finally said as they watched the trio leave.

Ironhide snorted. “He challenged a Prime,” he said, like that would explain everything, and Epps wasn't sure if it was a good sign that he had been around for long enough that it actually made sense. Too tired to really think about it, he settled for a sigh.

“And he wants a rematch.” A pause, and then he shook his head. “Definitely dropped on his head as a kid.”

Going by Ironhide's silence, it wasn't a theory he was going to get a lot of arguments against.


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


Two days later and Ironhide had gone through a range of emotions he didn't even know he had anymore. From worried to relieved to annoyed to confused to suspicious and finally to frustrated as he decided to frag common sense and corner Ratchet in the infirmary for some answers. Of course, cornering Ratchet in the medic's own domain was much like an average unarmed organic trying to corner Megatron, but Ironhide was frustrated enough to be willing to work with that, too.

Predictably, Ratchet looked neither particularly impressed nor particularly cornered as he crossed his arms and levelled a look at Ironhide, and if Ironhide hadn't been so frustrated, he would have taken it as his cue to get his aft out of there. As it was, he didn't.

“And to what do I owe the pleasure?” Ratchet drawled. “Did you finally manage to scramble your processors for good or have you simply spent so much time here that your have forgotten where your own quarters are?”

Ironhide snorted but didn't rise to the bait – long-term Ratchet exposure did have some benefits, after all – and instead he crossed arms as well, mirroring the medic's stubborn look.

“You're the expert on those fraggers. What in the Pit is wrong with him?”

Ratchet paused and then the glow of his optics intensified for a moment in understanding and Ironhide wasn't at all comfortable with the sudden amusement in the medic's features, either.

“I assume you are referring to our resident Seeker?” It wasn't really a question but Ironhide nodded, anyway, and Ratchet continued. “And what would be the problem? He's been exceptionally well behaved since his... training session with Optimus. He has spent time with his human bonded, his temper is under control, he recharges almost sufficiently for his build again, and he has begun to spend time around his human former team-mates. I hardly see a problem in that.”

Judging by Ratchet's amusement, that last part was a flat-out lie and he knew very well just what the problem was and intended to make Ironhide own up to it, anyway. Payback for something Ironhide may or may not have done to him at some point and long since forgotten about, or maybe just being his usual sadistic self, and Ironhide bit back a frustrated sound before he ended up providing any more amusement for the medic.

“He only shows up for training lessons with me,” he stated flatly, and he could have sworn he felt Ratchet smirk over their bond before it was quickly shielded again.

“Why, that's wonderful, Ironhide,” Ratchet responded with the artificial sweetness of those carbonated poison beverages the younger humans liked to ingest. “I'm pleased to hear that he keeps up those lessons. It really shows he is trying – no normal Seeker would have put up with that, you know. I'm pleased that you have chosen to share this breakthrough with me, truly, I am, but far be it from me to keep you occupied with minor things like this when I am certain you have much more important things to do.”

This time, Ironhide couldn't keep the annoyance out of his voice, a frustrated snarl making his feelings clear even before he answered. “Stop yanking my chain, medic. He only shows up for those lessons. I see nothing of him outside of that. When I approach him, he takes off or find something else to do, and when I attempt to use that bond to get an answer out of him, he shields it!”

There was a definite feeling of smugness over their bond at that and then the artificial sweetness came back in full force as their resident sadist clearly enjoyed every moment of Ironhide's discomfort.

“He's learning to shield, then. Why, this is wonderful news, indeed, Ironhide, and I'm honoured you chose to share this breakthrough with me. I do-”

“Ratchet!”

The flare of anger through their bond wasn't something Ratchet could have missed and the medic paused and sent Ironhide an amused expression and when he spoke again, it was in his normal voice, calm and collected and utterly unimpressed.

“He is punishing you, Ironhide. Or rather, that Seeker part is. For the moment, you are its chosen future mate and you refused to give it Sideswipe when it felt revenge was rightfully its to claim,” he drawled. “It is much like a spoiled sparkling in that regard. How often do you honestly think a Seeker would be told no by a mate or someone it courted if there was something it truly wanted? It will tolerate myself or Optimus doing so but in your case, I would assume it intends to ignore you until you make it up to it or it gets distracted by something sufficiently... shiny, as the humans would put it. It is reminding you that there are other choices of mates out there and that it is in your own best interest to remember that and act accordingly.”

It was silent as Ironhide simply stared at him for a long moment.

“He is... punishing me,” he repeated in a suspicious voice, not actually sure if this was just another display of their medic's warped sense of humour, and if it wasn't, how the Pit he was supposed to react to it, then.

“Yes. Major Lennox is military but the Seeker isn't and that requires some compromises to be made,” Ratchet responded and answered the question Ironhide hadn't even voiced. “They are slowly but surely learning to get along and the last few days' display around you has been intended mostly to remind you of, in its mind, the honour it is bestowing upon you by showing interest in a mere ground-pounder. Clumsily, granted, because it is still only core programming at work, but those are the principles of it. I doubt the human side is even completely aware of why they are doing this.” A pause and then more amusement as Ratchet seemed to realise something else. “It's proof of the seriousness of its interest, too, for what it is worth. It would not have bothered if it did not see you as a serious option for a mate.”

There was another long moment of silence after that as Ironhide still couldn't find any better response than simply stare, and Primus, but life had been so much fragging simpler when his human brother in arms had actually been human and if not sane, then at least reasonably predictable to those who knew him.

“Lennox understands and appreciates what you did,” Ratchet continued. “This does not change the fact that the Seeker is still displeased with you.” A shrug. “Leave it to its own devices, Ironhide. It will come around soon enough. Had we been on Cybertron, some grovelling might have been needed to keep it around, but not here. Out of the very few members of our species on this planet, you are the only realistic option for it. Had we had Seekers still... then yes, it could be a problem, but despite it all, it is an Autobot. The 'Con Seekers have never been a consideration.” A pause, relenting. “Well, not a serious one, at least.”

Ironhide wasn't sure if the last addition was supposed to make him feel better or not, and it wasn't something he wanted to think about a whole lot, either, and so he changed the subject before he got the dubious pleasure of remembering the graphic fantasies he had gotten from the bond with the human-turned-Seeker.

“How about Prime?” Prime, who'd had the Seeker interested before and had kicked its aft with barely any effort at all, and slag it all, but those fraggers liked it rough-

“Lennox would never agree,” Ratchet responded and there was absolutely no doubt or hesitation in his voice. “Yes, the Seeker likes and respects him again and yes, it would undoubtedly be more than pleased if Lennox relented on that point, but he won't. You know him, Ironhide. He would never see Optimus like that, regardless of how much the Seeker may influence him. For that matter, I doubt Optimus would agree, either.” A pause, really looking at Ironhide in the way that always made the weapon specialist feel like a lab specimen under a microscope, and then a look of bemusement crossed the medic's features. “Are you jealous, Ironhide?”

And if that wasn't a trap, Ironhide didn't know what was, and he settled for a snort in response before he reluctantly answered a moment later, trying to put it into terms that wouldn't earn him another barrage of sarcasm. “He's a friend. He's got nice wings. I'm attracted to him. We're not 'facing and I know their build would want a slagging harem if they could get away with it. I want to know what I'm dealing with so I don't frag up anything with the human. I know they have the common sense of a malfunctioning combat drone when they're like this and I know I'd beat myself up for the rest of my existence if I did something stupid that made him do something he'd regret. I have to know what I'm dealing with and you're the closest thing to an expert we have, so do your slagging job and help me, medic.”

The last bit had been Ironhide's attempt to bait him in return but frustration with the ridiculousness of the whole situation didn't particularly help on his wit, and Ratchet clearly didn't think so, either, since the only reaction he managed to get from the mech in question was another amused look.

“I already told you, Ironhide. You can either go grovel or wait for it to come around on its own accord. Unless you feel like proving your dominance repeatedly in the future, I recommend you settle for the second option. It knows it doesn't have a lot of choices in mates here, and it knows you should know it, too. Grovelling when there is no competition at all for its affection would be a sign of weakness. That is my professional option,” he added in a drawl. “Now, unless you are next on the list of medical check-ups, find something else to do. Of course, I'm certain Arcee wouldn't mind waiting if you missed this so much that you showed up early, but...”

Endless time spent in the infirmary having countless injuries patched up by the medic in front of him hadn't been wasted. Ironhide considered his options and an instant later wisely chose a strategic retreat before Ratchet could finish that sentence.


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


Around the same time, the subject of the discussion found himself enjoying the first actual sunshine in what felt like entirely too long a while. Granted, he could always take off and fly above the cloud cover – and had done that just about daily, too – but a clear, blue sky was still something different.

Air flowed by and caressed the sensor nodes on his wings as he settled for a leisurely Mach two, only a few, random wisps of clouds breaking up the view below him. Diego Garcia was an uneven ring of green and white in the ocean below him, marked by stripes and squares of runways and buildings, and even a nearby visiting aircraft carrier looked like nothing more than a child's toy in a bathtub. He would get up close and personal with that one, he knew, and learn to handle himself on a ship like that when Ratchet deemed him stable enough to try without accidentally destroying something important. Given that he still took off and handed on one of the less-used runways, he couldn't really blame the medic and if he was perfectly honest, he didn't mind, either. Once he got used to dealing with the aircraft carrier he would have to learn to fly with normal human jets, too, and that really wasn't something he looked forward to. The Seeker was predictably unimpressed and Will didn't particularly care for the thought, either. He understood that he might have to fly and fight side by side with them someday but that didn't change the fact that he was faster, lighter, and a lot more agile than those things would ever be and there was really no point in wasting time on something that would only slow him down.

Not that he'd aired that particular point of view to Epps. Able to transform into an F-22 or not, he still didn't feel like spending half an hour listening to the complete list of virtues of fighter jets of the United States Air Force, as told by Robert Epps. The similarities between him and one of said jets were superficial at best and pretty much non-existent after two minutes in the air.

We transform, the Seeker huffed in agreement. We do not lower ourselves to match their pathetic capabilities.

Used to the alien presence in his mind by now, Will didn't even try to argue. It did have a point and arguing would be a waste of energy for both of them. Truce, cooperation, compromise, and the longer he was exposed to that alien presence, the less he minded it, too. Understanding how it thought and was programmed in the first place went a long way in giving him patience with its ego and assorted other issues. It also helped that the training session with their Prime had gotten rid of quite a lot of the short temper and annoyance he had carried around, too. He didn't know how – and when he thought about it, really didn't want to know, either – but it had returned his frustration to a tolerable level and compared to the days leading up to that fight, it was damn well heaven.

Air control was watching him somewhere below, a steady stream of information crossing his processors and being dismissed for the most part, and he completed a wide, lazy turn over the neighbouring islands before he set in the full force of his engines and went straight up. Mach two was good, Mach two was nice, but it wasn't freedom, and nothing could really compare to the roar of engines pushed to their limits; to the vibration of metal and the scream of air as he tore through the sky, and he made a triumphant spin as the Seeker fairly glowed in approval.

He had been grounded for a day by Ratchet due to the injuries from that training session and had stayed close to Diego Garcia the day after that as well to keep his team-mates from frowning too much after the incident with Sideswipe, but now it was sunshine and clear and he was fragging well going to fly, politics and all be damned.

We are not fragile, the Seeker sulked as it still lingered on the insult of being grounded for an entire day, and Will didn't try try to argue with that, either.

I know. He was just worried. He's doing the best he can.

Another impression of silent sulking and then it was swept away as they levelled out and there was nothing but endless ocean and infinitely tiny islands around them for hundreds and hundreds of miles in any direction. There weren't any explicit limits to where he could go but that didn't mean he didn't pick up on the implicit ones. The further away he went, the greater the risk that he would run into the 'Con Seekers with no backup in sight, for one. Another one was the shipping lane that ran south and east of Diego Garcia – while it wouldn't be a problem if he was too far up to be seen, it would be a bad idea at best to play tag with any passing ships in a fit of boredom, which left west and north as the better options if he wanted to stretch his wings.

Intel on this particular day put the 'Con Seekers nowhere within a thousand miles of him and nothing between him and due west but clear skies, and maybe that was why it took him so long to notice; with the roar of engines and the freedom of stretching his wings after endless days kept leashed, and it was only after several long seconds that a flashing icon in his processors managed to get his attention for long enough to be noticed at all.

Small, flashing, and very, very familiar, and he snapped into a barrel roll before he even knew it, letting out sudden shock before it could cloud his processors too much.

Several more seconds passed and the fragging thing kept blinking, and Will shuddered subconsciously even as the Seeker sent the hesitant feeling of question-uncertainty-permission at him.

It's not an Autobot, Will pointed out, even if he knew damn well that wouldn't matter. It doesn't have the right encryption.

It wasn't the same channel as the first time, either, but that didn't mean a thing. Anyone with even the slightest bit of sense changed those channels frequently and while Will didn't like the 'Cons, that didn't mean they were stupid.

That feeling of a question from the Seeker still lingered and Will kept ignoring the insistent little icon and knew just as well that it was a lost fight. They hadn't heard anything from the 'Cons since the battle that had ended so very, very wrong but that didn't mean they weren't planning something. It was Megatron, after all, and NEST had learned painfully that the longer the slaghead stayed silent, the worse the news tended to be when he finally showed up again.

They had looked around, of course, poked where they could and waited to see if something reacted, but the painful truth was that for the moment they had no intel, no clue, and frag it, Starscream wasn't stupid enough to let something slip on accident, but if that was all Will could do right now to help, then he would fragging well do just that.

The icon continued to flash and Will took a moment to focus and try to calm himself before he silently warned the Seeker of his intentions and then resolutely accepted the connection that he had been offered.

“Decepticon Air Commander Starscream to Autobot Seeker Will, negative six-point-seven, seven-zero-point-two. Did the ground-pounders finally let you out to play?”

The voice that greeted him was strong, dominant, almost purring, and every bit as familiar as that icon had been, and Will just as resolutely forced down that instinctive response of respect and submission and – thankfully muted – lust that made him shudder and desperately wish he could scrub the images out of his brain. This time he was prepared, though, and he ruthlessly pushed aside the programmed responses from the Seeker and focused on the actual conversation instead.

“Decepticon Air Commander, this is Autobot Seeker. Don't you have better things to do than make Soundwave watch my aft?” he snapped back, a bit harsher and a lot less calm and collected than he had intended but really, in this case, he would take what he could.

Whatever he had expected in response, the dark laughter that followed wasn't it, and a moment later he wished he had just left the damn icon alone and kept his stupid mouth shut as Starscream continued.

“But it's such a nice one of the kind, Will.”

And damn it if he didn't make Will's designation sound like a caress even over the distance of their comm channel and the Seeker reacted with startled pleasure and a sudden surge of renewed lust that Will frantically fought to push aside.

Get a slagging grip on yourself! he snapped to the alien presence in his mind and the relief he felt as the waves of lust waned and died was so strong that he didn't doubt it could be felt by Ironhide all the way back on Diego Garcia, shielding and stubbornness be damned.

“Does that one really work or are the rest of the 'Cons just too cowardly to refuse when you tell them to roll over and beg?” Will bit back and that tar-like feeling of disgust still clung to his mind even as he tried to ignore it by keeping one optic on his surroundings in the – admittedly unlikely – case that he was flying into an ambush.

Another dark laugh, and mercurial moods and all, the Air Commander sounded honestly amused, and that unsettled Will more than he cared to admit. He didn't want the attention of a 'Con. It was bad enough to deal with his own Seeker's graphic fantasies. He didn't need any of the 'Con Seekers to encourage that. Starscream was supposed to snarl and leave in a fit when he didn't get his way. Not play along, and not be amused by it, either.

“Who would turn down a Seeker, Will? We are divine, we are perfection, and we are proof of the wisdom and greatness Primus displayed in creating us. If you have yet to have those pathetic ground-pounders worshipping at your feet, it is no fault of our build. If you deserve your designation in any way, certainly you will have realised that. A Seeker is born to rule, to claim dominance over the worthless, planet-bound creatures and let them reach a moment of the divine in being allowed to attend to us. Or did your Prime neglect to mention those minor facts?”

“That you're a raving megalomaniac with delusions of grandeur?” Will drawled. “Oh, he mentioned that but I think I would have worked it out on my own. But thanks for asking.”

He noticed he had effectively managed to stun his own Seeker into silence with that, a shell-shocked mix of disbelief, horror, and the clear impression of the thing doing a more than passable goldfish impression as it struggled for something to say, and it became clear a moment later that Starscream wasn't entirely unaffected, either, as an angry snarl greeted Will in response.

“Your Prime knows nothing of power, Autoscum. No true Seeker would bow to one as weak as that. He can't even rein in his own men. He yields to the fleshlings and prefers to see his own breed killed rather than harm his precious organics. They have a word for that, Seeker – traitor.” And as quickly as the anger had arrived it faded again and the voice was low and powerful and seductive again and Will found himself bitterly cursing every slagging bit of programming that let him react to that voice, too, no matter how much he fought it. “Lord Megatron wishes nothing more than to see our home rebuilt. Is that not what we all wish? A proper home where we will not have to hide from organics who see us as nothing more than something to be dissected like a scientific experiment and destroyed when our usefulness runs out? Cybertron will rise again and our home will be returned to us. That is Lord Megatron's offer to our kind: a home, freedom, and the respect that is rightfully ours. Your Prime can offer none of those.”

And Starscream slagging well knew what he was doing because Will felt his own Seeker instantly respond to the words, a spark-deep longing at the mention of 'home' – the glyph that Will's mind mentally translated to family-safe-origin-belonging – and it took him long, painful moments to push the emotion aside for long enough to even focus on anything else.

This is home, he told the Seeker in his mind. This is where we were born, this is our family, this is where we belong.

A flicker of uncertainty and then the alien presence focused on him again and Will felt a surge of clarity as it gave him its full attention again and he had never been prouder of it than the moment he felt it turn its mental back on Starscream and ignore the Air Commanders presence completely, power, strength, and rank be damned. So maybe they wouldn't get intel out of the 'Con but that didn't mean it had been a complete waste of time.

“Go take a dive in a lava-pit, Starscream,” Will snorted and it was all he could do to control his glee as he felt his Seeker half add its silent, fierce agreement. “Earth is home now. This is where we're staying. So thanks, but no thanks.”

Judging by the angry hiss that followed, the reply didn't go over well, but Will hadn't expected it, too, either, and he was ready before Starscream even began to reply.

“You will regret this, Autoscum!” that familiar voice hissed, low and grating on his processors like nails on a blackboard as it lost some of the attraction that the Seeker half felt for its counterpart. “We will-”

“-Keep whining until you get your way?” Will drawled and focused on the connection, one mental finger ready to disconnect. “I noticed that, too. Give my regards to the slagger in charge. Goodbye, Starscream.”

And with the flicker of a thought the connection died and sure, it was childish and spiteful and pissing off the Decepticon Second in Command was probably on the top ten list of stupid things he had done in his career, but damn it if it didn't feel good.

With a gleeful roar of his engines, he turned sharply and then headed up and east even as he transmitted a copy of the conversation back to Diego Garcia. They would talk about it later, he knew, but for now there was only him and his Seeker and warm, glorious sunshine, and echoing the purr of his alien half, he settled in for some long-needed stretching of his wings. There would be plenty of time to worry later. For now, they had some flying to do.


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


As expected, he had spent the rest of the day on terra firma after he had finally relented and returned to base. It wasn't as much an order as it had been a matter of circumstances – by the time debriefings and various other meetings were over, it was well into evening, and while Will would never turn down an opportunity to fly, the fact remained that they were in the middle of the Indian Ocean, it was pitch black and the view would be boring to say the least. There was a stray thought of chasing the sunset or flying ahead to greet the dawn, but it was gone again as quickly as it had arrived. It would take him out of the safe range of Diego Garcia and he knew just as well that the stray temptation was nothing more than the Seeker wanting to prove its independence and how very much it did not need its fellow Autobots after the thing with Sideswipe.

The Seeker was still annoyed about that and there had been more than a flicker of anger directed at their Prime during the debriefing as well. It hadn't been much that had caused it – a slight frown about Will's taunts to Starscream was all – but it had been enough to make the Seeker snarl silently and Will instinctively raise every mental defence in response. It had been their afts out there, Seeker to Seeker, and he had slagging well heard Ironhide and Sideswipe and the Twins mock the 'Cons often enough in battle.

What do pathetic ground-pounders know about our kind? the alien presence in his mind had snarled in agreement and watched their Prime's every move suspiciously for the rest of the debriefing.

Will could understand Optimus on a level – Ironhide and Sideswipe had long since proven that they could back up those taunts when attacked – but he was a Seeker and this was none of their fragging business, and while he knew perfectly well that at least part of it was Seeker programming influencing his mind, he didn't try to block it. The annoyance was Seeker-based but the insults had been purely human, and he was oddly touched that even when he got the clear impression that he had broken more than a few Seeker protocols during that talk, the Seeker in his mind still backed him in it. It didn't matter that he ignored parts of it and that he stubbornly kept as much of his human side as he could – a week ago the Seeker would probably have snarled at him for doing it, but now it backed him as a fellow Seeker, and that more than anything told Will that the truce might actually work.

Still, even that debriefing couldn't ruin Will's good mood. They had gotten back at Starscream, stretched their wings, and if the 'Cons decided to take insult, well, then frag them, too.

To make up for being stuck indoors for half a day, they were up before the break of dawn and greeted the first rays of sunshine a hundred miles above the infinitely tiny island they called home. Hours later, when they showed up for Ironhide's daily lesson, even the Seeker's stubborn annoyance with the mech couldn't quite stop the silent purr from the pleasure of it all – it was dry, it was sunshine, and it was good.

The annoyance was fading, too, Will could tell as much. Three days after the training session gone wrong, the Seeker was slowly starting to relent enough to be able to admire Ironhide again, scarred black and cannons that could take down just about anything short of a combiner, and Will was silently relieved that things were getting somewhat back to normal. The peace and quiet had been a nice change but the bird-brain's insistence of looking at other mechs, however obvious of a ruse it was, had been more than a bit unnerving. All in all, the devil you knew was probably to be preferred, and after another moment, he inclined his head slightly in greeting; a thing the Seeker had stubbornly refused to do for the past couple of days.

The Seeker offered a feeling of sulking annoyance in the back of his head, still offended that it hadn't been given Sideswipe, and Will sighed mentally in return. He understood the sulking and it wasn't really its fault that it had been programmed like that but it was still getting annoying fast.

He did what I told him to. It's not his fault.

Another faint feeling of sulking followed at that, not that Will had expected anything else. Will had never been the type to hold much of a grudge but waking up with an alien presence in his head, he had gotten more lessons in holding grudges than he had ever wanted. He had hoped it was just the young age of the thing being an issue and that it would grow out of it again – and hopefully sooner rather than later – but a talk with Ratchet had gotten rid of that delusion pretty fast. Seekers had strong emotions and grudges were right up there near the top of the list. At most, it would learn to take less offence over the years and simply hold on to those fewer grudges that much longer instead.

Which, come to think of it, probably explained some of Starscream's behaviour around Megatron, too, since Will didn't doubt there was a history of grudges between those two that made Ironhide's issues with the slaggers look normal in comparison.

In front of them, Ironhide watched them for long seconds and Will raised his head in a silent challenge and let him. Ironhide had presence, Ironhide had power – not as much as their Prime, but still enough to be felt, and it was a testament to the Seeker's displeasure that it would openly defy him like that. Will didn't move as seconds stretched on, knew that the other mech could probably tell that he wasn't quite as self-confident as he let on but still not about to back down... and then Ironhide nodded slightly in return and it was all that Will could do not to release the tension in his body in one relieved sigh. Instead it remained for a little while longer, wings released from their unnatural stillness first, then the slow relaxing of shoulders and clawed hands, and there was no amusement in Ironhide's voice when he spoke.

“Still in a slag-aft mood?”

“It's a Seeker-thing,” Will responded in a carefully neutral voice. “We don't handle long meetings well.”

Ironhide did snort at that; the first genuine emotion Will had seen from him since he had landed again that morning. “Or being told no. I'm not stupid, Lennox,” he continued before Will could object. “You've been avoiding me so I talked with Ratchet. I would have asked you but it turns out that cornering a Seeker when it doesn't want to be is about as easy as getting a target-lock on Skywarp.”

So Ironhide knew what was going on, which neatly reminded Will that cannon-fetish and all aside, his friend was definitely not stupid. He hadn't survived for so long just by virtue of strong armour and a brilliant field medic. It also saved Will from having to find a way to explain the whole thing to the other mech – he had considered several approaches before he had dismissed them all and settled for hoping that the mech just simply wouldn't notice. That plan, obviously, had just been scrapped... not that he had held much hope in the first place. The Seeker was being blatantly obvious about its actions, which wasn't that much of a surprise considering it was all being done for Ironhide's benefit in the first place.

Since they were already moving into 'uncomfortable topic' territory, Will sighed mentally and decided he might as well get rid of another question that had nagged him since the meeting.

“So how much did you pick up?” he asked, honestly curious about the answer. He had shielded their bond to the best of his ability and there hadn't been anything really disgustingly graphic in nature, so it wasn't likely to be too embarrassing, either.

Unreadable optics watched him for a long second.

“Some. Emotions, no images. You're getting better,” Ironhide finally replied, and there was something in his voice that Will couldn't quite decipher.

Relief-regret? the Seeker sent questioning in response and Will blinked. It should have sounded off – with the sort of images they had given Ironhide, he should be grateful for some peace and quiet – but it felt somehow right, and if nothing else, it would probably make the weapon specialist twitch a little if he got it wrong.

“So tell me I'm nuts and hearing things, but was that disappointment?”

Ironhide snorted again. “As a human, you had the longest medical file of any human NEST personnel save for Samuel. You do not just attract trouble; you actively seek it out when it fails to show up fast enough. Do you expect me to believe that's changed with that new personality in your head?”

Good point, that, and Will didn't even bother to argue, even if there was a renewed wave of huffy sulking from the Seeker at that. He'd worked at the mech's side for entirely too long to be able to talk his way out of it and the Seeker's sulking only served to confirm Ironhide's words... not that there had been any doubt in the first place.

“So?” Lack of argument or not, Will still couldn't quite keep out the slight challenge in his words. He hadn't been that bad – someone had to put their aft on the line sometimes, and he preferred it to be him rather than his men whenever possible. They'd all known what they had signed up for, too, for that matter, and a sudden flare of anger made him continue even when some faint whisper of common sense told him to stop and shut up. He knew a good part of it was the Seeker's emotions he was getting, but he also knew just as well that it could have been much worse, and their whole situation was based on a give-and-take partnership. He could deal with having a few more issues than normal and if nothing else, it was still better than having the damn thing ignore Ironhide completely like the past couple of days. “You want a nice little leash on me? Keep track of the sparkling so he doesn't do anything stupid like pulling his own weight in battle? Newsflash, Ironhide – I'm a weapon. You may have the cannons but I'm bigger, faster, and heavier than you are. I'm not something to be coddled because you think I'm too weak to tell Megatron and Starscream to frag themselves.”

The only thing that revealed Ironhide's annoyance in turn was the way his fists clenched and a slight edge to his words, but it was all Will needed to feel his own defensive systems prepare for a possible attack even as the weapon specialist answered. “You're not a sparkling but you're untrained and you have a reckless, delusional Seeker in your head that spends more time thinking about interfacing than war. Like it or not, Lennox, it's a fragging miracle that you haven't gone off and done something stupid yet, and since I know it's going to happen sooner or later, having some idea of where you are and what you're doing might be a good idea for all of us.”

And even as the Seeker snarled in their mind, Will realised that this was exactly the sort of thing he could work with. It wasn't that different from the situation with Optimus. The Seeker was less pissy, less serious about it all, but the base instinct was the same – beat the slag out of the offending mech until it learned its place or proved that it could handle whatever got dished out.

Whatever faint voice of common sense he had left vanished completely at that as he let Seeker instincts take insult and the human side bristled at the words as well, however much he might know there was some measure of truth in it, deep, deep down. “You're the one who told me to learn to shield myself,” Will snapped. “First you want me to stop broadcasting, now you think it's a shame I learned? Make up you mind, before I tell Ratchet to check your processors for memory decay.”

He heard the distinctive whine of a cannon charging but not actually moving into combat mode – the sure-fire way to know when Ironhide was well and truly pissed – and then the sound stopped abruptly as the darker mech just stared at him.

“Are you asking to have your aft whipped?”

The Seeker snarled silently at the implication that anyone would even think of besting it, especially a mate who was too ignorant to know proper behaviour at all, but Will just raised his head slightly in a silent challenge. “Worked with Optimus, didn't it?”

Ironhide kept staring at him with a look that clearly said he was wondering what sort of expenses he could put a Cybertronian-sized straight-jacket under, and Will snorted in return. “You don't seem to mind when we train and I know you're holding back there. You can either get the first shot, or I'll do it myself. Either way, one of us will get our aft kicked.”

The only warning Will got was the sudden, intense glow in Ironhide's optics, the same gleeful love of a good fight he had seen in battle when he had still been human, and then there was nothing but tarmac and the sound of metal against metal as the weapon specialist let cannons be cannons and sent Will into the ground with one hard strike. Seeker reflexes were stunned for fractions of a second and then the fight was on, and even as the Energon sang in their veins and he could already imagine Ratchet's glare, it didn't matter how one-sided that fight might be.

The Seeker was snarling in the back of his mind but there was reluctant approval there as well, the lust of war that came natural to any one of the breed, and it didn't help that Will had never been one to shy away from hand-to-hand combat, either. Sure, he was big and clumsy and had to learn a whole new set of reactions and moves, but it didn't change the fact that he was fast and strong and could actually take on Ironhide in a one on one fight without having the mech hold back. And sure, he didn't stand a chance in the Pit of actually winning, but that had never been the point of it, either.

Wings struck tarmac, sent warnings flaring in his processors before he dismissed them an instant later, and then he struck out as well with bird-like legs that he still hadn't gotten properly used to, and it was all he could do to keep the glee off of his face when Ironhide went down only slightly less gracelessly than Will had done.

Of course, that didn't help him much when Ironhide hit the ground already in motion and he found himself slammed painfully back against the tarmac, and judging from the glow in the mech's optics, he wasn't the only one to enjoy the impromptu battle.

“Faster than usual,” Ironhide growled and got a grip between two large plates that made the Seeker snarl and tear claw-marks into Ironhide's own heavy armour. “Getting better or just getting pissier?”

And Ratchet was going to have their sparks for this but Will just offered a toothy grin in response. “Let's say both.”

The roar of twin jet engines as they ignited for less than an instant tore Will free but the intended turn that would have landed him on Ironhide was ruined as the weight of the mech on him made it impossible to predict where he would end up. All it got him was another hard landing on the tarmac as the engines cut out again, and then Ironhide was back, one massive arm slamming against his throat to pin him to the ground even as he felt the weight of the mech settle on his body.

“Still got the common sense of a malfunctioning drone,” Ironhide snorted and perhaps for that reason didn't release his hold just yet.

Will snorted in return but didn't fight and forced his body to relax, silently accepting defeat. “Frag you, too,” he said and couldn't quite keep a satisfied smugness from his voice. He may have lost but he wasn't the only one with injuries to fix.

And as quickly as the battle as started it was over again and only then did Will notice the strange stillness of the alien presence in his mind. The frustration and annoyance and anger was gone, and Will suspected the feeling from it was confusion but it was gone before he could be sure, replaced by a surge of respect and pleased purring as the graphic images that had stayed away for days returned in full force.

Grey against black, metal against metal and hands against wings, and the heating fans that Will had almost blissfully forgotten about kicked in an instant later as the full weight of Ironhide pinning him registered in his mind, and with it came the realisation of what had just happened. Three ways to deal with a sulking Seeker – ignore it, grovel, or put it in its place – and it wasn't until now the Seeker had stopped sulking for long enough to remember that putting it in its place meant that Ironhide had proven his dominance and that every instinct in the Seeker's processor told it to submit to its mate in turn.

Ironhide startled almost imperceptibly at the sound, probably as unfamiliar with the situation as Will himself was, and Will had enough of the Seeker's perspective to recognise the glow in his optics. Ironhide was attracted to them – to him or the Seeker, the difference wasn't that big anymore, and Will could live with that, too – and he reacted on instinct before the mech could ever move.

One clawed hand dug hard into the crack between two bits of plating on Ironhide's shoulder and gripped the delicate wires and lines with almost enough force to damage them, felt the hum of energy and the pulse of a spark that was probably older than humanity itself, and Ironhide stilled before he could do anything more than shift his weight and prepare to let his captive go.

“Lennox...” A low growl, part threatening, part warning, part... something else, and Will tightened his grip slightly and offered another toothy smirk in response.

“That feels like a main Energon line. How long would we have to get Ratchet here if it snapped?” One fingers traced lightly against the line in emphasis, tugged and let go and repeated it all again, and he could feel the pulse of it pick up and a surge of heat as the body above him responded.

“Long enough to beat the slag out of you if you tried,” Ironhide growled back, the high-pitched whine of a charging cannon mingling with the sound of venting intakes, but he didn't even shift as Will tugged on the Energon line again, slightly gentler and more curious this time.

There was something to be said for power and control, however much the Seeker might like to have a partner prove its dominance, and Will was acutely aware of the fact that this time the heating fans could not be blamed on the alien part of his mind.

Another gentle tug, tracing the side of his finger against the lines and wires to feel the charge build under Ironhide's plating, and this time he was rewarded with a slight shudder and creaking metal as Ironhide's arm against his throat pushed down to keep a firm hold of his opponent, even if they both knew that unless the cannons came into play or Will withdrew his hand, that Seeker grip could cause serious damage a lot faster than Ironhide could. It was the first time Will had truly had the upper hand when it came to Ironhide and the low rumble of a half-purr, half-growl that broke the silence was far more human than Seeker.

Ironhide was a mech, an alien, something so long-lived and powerful that it was almost incomprehensible to a human mind; a good friend and ally and attractive for his own qualities, but right now all Will could focus on was the raw power he held in his hand, the utter stillness of the darker mech and the knowledge that if he pulled back on those lines and wires, Ironhide would follow, and only at the sharp hiss that followed did he realise that he had tightened his grip on the Energon line again.

He held his grip for a second, blue optics meeting equally blue optics as neither was willing to yield, and then he loosened his grip but still didn't let go.

“Lennox.” A firm, quiet warning, giving him a chance to back out before something went wrong, and the Seeker was confused and attracted and bewildered by the whole thing, and Will pushed it all firmly aside with only a word at that alien presence.

Truce, he murmured silently and the surge of heat that followed was all the confirmation he needed to know that the Seeker understood.

He caressed the Energon line again, lingered on the feel of the pulse against his hand and the heat and the still-building charge and he kept his voice deliberately casual as he spoke.

“The Seeker part would have gone submissive on you the moment you put it in its place.” An almost vicious tug on the heated line followed by a sharp sound from Ironhide at the pain, and the smirk Will offered in response was pure challenge. “The Seeker would have submitted. I'm going to make you work for it.”

He could see the moment the penny dropped, darkened optics and an expression that he had definitely never been on the receiving end of as a human, and then there was nothing but searing heat and metal and the gleeful thrill of the fight as Ironhide struck and their world descended into the sort of flirting that would land them both in the infirmary; tired, bruised, and disgustingly smug about it all.