Fic: Set Fire to the Rain
TITLE: Set Fire to the Rain
SERIES: Imperfection Deviation
AUTHOR: Macx
RATING: PG-13
DISCLAIMER: None of the characters belong to me, sadly. They are owned by people with a lot more money :)
FEEDBACK: Loved
MASSIVE SPOILER ALERT for Transformers 3: Dark of the Moon! Don't read if you haven't seen it yet! Major plot points dealt with!! After watching the movie for the first time, this little story wouldn’t let me go. The second time, in IMAX 3-D (can I just say: Wow!!), just helped the bunnies along.
Premiere time for me, too: I actually wrote this by hand! At the Halifax airport and on the plane (turbulence is bad for writing… you never hit the paper…). I typed this after coming home and being awake for almost 30 hours because I couldn’t get my wired brain to shut up.
Now, after twelve hours of sleep, I present you with the Fic That Wouldn’t Go Away.
This is Macx’s Fix-It version. You own it to the fact that Will Lennox in black battle gear looks simply hot!
All grammar errors are mine. I'm too jet-lagged to really see much any more....
He blinked.
And found himself in the middle of a battle. Something exploded to his right, but the heat didn’t seem to register on his skin. Nor was there any backlash from the concussion the energy explosion created. It was like being immersed in a 3-D world where nothing was real.
A mech he had never seen before - huge, red and strangely ancient looking - stood just a few feet away from him, aiming his gun at…
“Ironhide?”
… and fire.
The shot tore through Ironhide’s upper body, exploding out of his back and ripping deep wounds.
“NO!”
The black mech tumbled, fell forward, crashed. The red one aimed again.
Fired.
And Ironhide’s chest was torn to pieces.
“IRONHIDE!!”
Blue optics flickered.
He started to run.
But it was too late.
The empty optics stared accusingly at him, then the whole body of the familiar mechanoid began to crumble. Like rust eating him.
“NOOOOO!”
The next scream was inhuman as the spark died within the weapon’s specialist. Will Lennox screamed at the top of his lungs and energy rushed through him, consuming him, aggressive and spoiling for a fight.
The need to kill something rose and he whirled around, looking for the red mech, but he was gone. All he saw was death and destruction. Dimly part of him told the hybrid that this looked like Washington DC; that there were humans running around, trying to tend to their wounded comrades; that someone he glimpsed looked an awful lot like Sam. But it didn’t register on his conscious mind. There was only the agony of loss and the emptiness of the spark, the dark optics of his partner.
He cried out his pain as Ironhide fell into reddish dust.
Energy coalesced and he released it. It tore out of him in a screech.
-- and he bolted upright.
Panting hard, Lennox frantically looked around.
No battle field. No enemy. Nothing. Just a familiar room in a familiar base. His guest room, Yuma. He was breathing hard, his whole body tingled, and his heart hammered frantically. He wasn’t aware of his skin looking like a replica of the Allspark’s exterior. He didn’t see his eyes glow an electric blue in a bluish white-gray iris.
His partner’s name left his lips and he stumbled out of bed, barely realizing the energy licking over his fingers as he balled them into fists.
Lennox knew Ironhide wasn’t here. He wasn’t in Yuma, or the States, let alone the same continent. He was running a mission, he recalled. Overseas.
Will ran a shaky hand over his face. He caught sight of the dark bronze and burned golden skin. A look in the bathroom mirror confirmed that he was in basic Allspark-exterior mode.
“Shit,” he whispered and staggered out of the room, needing to move.
Flashes of the …what? - nightmare? dream? vision? - ran through his mind and he tried to shake them, but they persisted. So real, so fragging real! It was as if he had been there. And maybe he had. For a second he had been there.
But where? And why? This wasn’t even close to anything he had ever seen or been through. It didn’t resemble a battle on Cybertron either that Ironhide might have told him about. And who had been the red mech?
What was going on?
Will nearly ran into a sandy brown leg with dark trimming. He managed to side-step and looked up, meeting the red optics of Scavenger.
“Sorry,” he managed.
“You don’t look too good, Will,” the Constructicon remarked, sounding neutral.
Which was an understatement. He looked bad. He looked ready to fight an enemy that wasn’t real. He looked ready to avenge the death of his bonded, who hadn’t died and who was rather alive and well somewhere else.
Lennox was brimming with energy and he needed to get rid of it.
“Bad dream,” he murmured, trying to change shape but failing.
Scavenger went down on one knee, red optics sharp and holding a knowing glimmer. “Really bad,” he commented. “Ironhide?”
Damn, he was an open book! And he wasn’t some emotional kid pining after his lover! Anger swamped him and the runes sizzled with energy.
Scavenger drew back a little.
“Sorry,” Will muttered. “I’m a bit… upset.”
“Apparently. And if it was connected to your bonded, which I think it is, you might want to seek him out.”
“He’s in Siberia, Scavenger!”
It got him a tilt of the head, coupled with a look that easily translated as ‘I know, Will Lennox you super-moron’. Not that Scavenger would say it.
“You can transform, Will. You could go there easily.”
“I’m not going to run after ‘Hide because of some freakish dream! I can deal with it!”
“Holy shit, Lennox.”
Great. Just what he needed.
“Sam,” he managed, trying to ignore flashes of another Sam.
-- staring in horror at the scene before him; running from enemy fire; almost killed by Starscream; saving the world a third time.
Damnit! He didn’t need this! He didn’t need some nightmarish semi-reality in his head!
“This isn’t good,” the younger man said, narrowed eyes on Lennox.
For all his youthful appearance, Sam Witwicky was a lot older than the one from Lennox’s… yeah, okay, call it a vision… He was a Prime, he was bonded to Bumblebee, he was a double-doctorate and engineer.
“What triggered?”
“Bad dream.”
Nightmare. Vision. Fucked-up brain.
“Get outside,” Scavenger told him firmly. “Burn it off. If this gets out of control in here…”
Will didn’t need to be told. He knew. He knew what he could do. And he knew he had to let the energy get out before it ate up his control. As much as he could control it, this was too emotional. Emotions were volatile and dreams even more so. He had to get it out of his system and he had to do it quickly.
“Prime,” Scavenger started again, a warning in his voice.
“I’m going,” he said harshly. “Just tell everyone to stay clear.”
Neither Sam nor Scavenger needed to be told.
* * *
Will felt like in a haze. Energy filled the space around him, flickering through his field of vision like tiny moths. The release hadn’t been as tremendous as the first time he had accidentally let the energy inside him play without parental guidance. He was pretty sure he hadn’t flattened a mountain or created a ten-mile crater. He was also pretty sure that Yuma had shut off their scanners and ignored the noise coming from this lost corner of their testing ground. Otherwise scanners would be shrilling with alarm and someone might want to go and figure out what had blown up. Then again, the Constructicons were responsible for this area and Scavenger had told the Yuma commander that something could be expected.
He blinked.
“You need to learn restraint, young Prime.”
Red optics in a clearly alien face loomed over him. Six optics. In a face that looked barely like one. There was no nose and the mouth was a jagged opening. Terrifying for a human. Will met the red gaze. He knew the faces of the ancient Primes and this was one of the spokespersons. Some never talked, simply hovered. This was one who was a chosen speaker.
“This was your doing,” he said, sounding exhausted.
He was no longer in the desert, but it was a desert around him. Alien. A mind-plane. Something the Primes liked to do when they set their energies to it. For a bunch of dead sparks they loved to meddle.
All sparks returned to the Allspark, Optimus Prime had told him once. Since all current Primes were closely linked to the Cosmic Cube, it was easy for the ancient Primes to meddle. Their preferred contacts were Sam and Will. Lately, Lennox alone had had the honor. Why not Tony? He would get a blast out of it! Rodimus and Optimus had no idea why they didn’t get more ‘hauntings’. Then again, who wanted to talk to their ancestors? Will sure didn’t. It was never good and this time proved it, too.
“We merely gave you access to what you are capable of.”
“And I’m capable of what? Seeing alternate pasts? What Could Have Beens? History with a twist?”
“Alternate realities.”
“So this was real?”
“Somewhere it is.”
“Where?”
“Somewhere.”
Will laughed humorlessly and shook his head. “You guys need to learn to talk.”
“Maybe you need to learn to listen.”
“To dead Primes?”
“To your instincts.”
Will’s eyes narrowed. “My instincts tell me to kick your butts back to wherever you came from!”
It got him a chuckle. Six red optics flared slightly.
“Glad someone finds it funny!” Lennox closed his eyes, more tired than before. “What do you want?”
“What do you want to do?” the Prime countered his question.
Save Ironhide. Stop his death. Don’t let him die.
“Stop doing that!”
“Would you want to change history?”
“It didn’t happen!” Will screamed.
“It did. In one reality it did.”
“Not in mine!”
“Your loss was different. The death was different. Still you prevailed. Your bonded lives.”
This one had died. But it was one of many possibilities, right? It wasn’t his partner. It wasn’t his Ironhide!
Will dug his fingers into the sand. “Why show me this one? Why show me a reality that isn’t my own? This never happened here! It has nothing to do with me!”
He had briefly seen another him. Dressed in a black outfit, clearly military, staring in horror and despair at the smoldering corpse, then following his training and instinct as he protected another version of Sam.
Colonel Will Lennox. Commander in charge of NEST. Recently divorced.
The knowledge came easily enough, as if he was reading a book.
“What is it to you if this reality had Ironhide die?” Will demanded.
His stomach threatened to turn at the words. Ironhide’s death at the hands of the unknown red mech was clear on his mind. Very clear.
“We try to push your potential, young Prime. You are part of our legacy.”
What potential? Go somewhere and meddle? Why would he want to see other realities? He was pretty much okay with his own, which wasn’t all that much fun and games sometimes either.
“You want me to go around and change history?”
“No.”
Frustration rose and with it the ancient power within him. “Then what do you want?!”
“What do you want, Avatar Prime?”
Save Ironhide. Don’t let him die.
He pushed the manipulative fingers on his mind away, hissing angrily. The Prime drew back a little and he appeared somewhat satisfied.
Seeing the horror in his other self’s eyes… Will wondered if there had been more. Had there been more? Could there be more? Between a human being and a mechanoid life-form? Without the alterations inflicted by the Allspark?
His head started to ache.
“Stop meddling with my life!” he whispered harshly. “I won’t go around changing the events of alternate universes!”
“Do you want to change it?”
He glared.
The Prime looked back, unperturbed.
“Why this one?!”
“It’s your decision.”
“That doesn’t answer my question!”
The flashes of violent death, despair, horror and pain came back. He saw it all again and again, Ironhide’s death, the battle, the countless deaths.
“What happens if I do step in?” he cried.
Nothing would change of the battle’s outcome if Ironhide survived. Nothing at all. Ironhide wouldn’t take part in the final fight against Megatron and the Decepticons.
“It’s up to them,” the Prime murmured. “A warrior’s bond is strong.”
Why me? Lennox raged. Why did they have to pick him over and over again? Why change this little fact? Couldn’t they do it themselves?
Why this reality?
Something tickled his senses. Because maybe, this was the only other one where Will Lennox and Ironhide would ever meet like this. He recalled faint memories of the first time he had touched other realities. There had been death in them, too. But Will had never felt this strongly about a possibility.
“You are worse than meddling relatives!” he snarled.
The Prime didn’t answer.
“What are you? Couple therapist? You want them to get a chance?”
No answer again.
He blinked.
-- And he was in the middle of the fight again. It was like a very bad dream, seeing Ironhide get shot again; going down. The disbelief in the black mech’s optics at the betrayal.
The red one raised his gun.
Will knew he couldn’t watch again. Not without acting.
Energy coalesced between his fingers, forming a tight ball.
The red one fire.
The energy released, counteracting the shot. There was an explosion, almost blinding Will, and when he could see again the red one was running into the building. Just like the last time. Just like the last time there were more shots fired inside, more explosions.
Lennox didn’t care. He gazed at the severely damaged black mech.
Blue optics met white-gray non-human eyes with a pin-brick of blue in them. The hybrid was in complete battle mode, though he hadn’t - thankfully! - taken on his Protoform shape.
“W-who?... What are you?” Ironhide rasped.
His systems were failing fast. Will could almost feel the alarms going off everywhere, the frantic rerouting of energon, the fight to survive.
He placed a hand against one massive cheek. Allspark or not, whatever transferred that moment saved the sputtering spark from extinction. Ironhide wheezed.
“Lennox?”
Will just smiled. “No. Not him.”
The optics flickered.
“Find him. Talk to him,” the human Prime only said. “You’ll be good for one another.”
Because this was one reality where they might have a fighting chance, too. Maybe more.
He blinked.
-- And found himself held by a very familiar mech. Not a dream, not an illusion, not an alternate reality. He simply knew this was Ironhide, his bonded partner. Blue optics regarded him curiously, not without surprise, and Will tried to get his scrambled brain into gear.
“Hide?” he blurted, immediately feeling stupid.
“Will,” was the gruff reply.
“Uh…”
“You zoned out.”
“Yeah. How… I mean, when…?”
Very intelligent, Will, he told himself.
“Me and the new guys got back this morning. Sam told me about your… dream. And that you might be here. Still.”
Will scrubbed his hands over his eyes. His brain was trying to unscramble itself and he felt a faint headache behind his eyes. Had he really done this? Fixed another reality? And why? Because another him might have a shot at an unlikely relationship? What if he had truly manipulated another reality?
He shivered.
“Will?” Ironhide asked, sounding concerned.
“I’m okay. I just need to…” he shrugged. “Gimme a bit, okay?”
Ironhide studied him, then nodded.
“Uh, set me down?” Will requested.
It got him a grin. “Uncomfortable?”
Actually, he thought, no.
He had never been uncomfortable being held or touched by this mech. He knew some humans didn’t want it, were afraid the huge mechanoid life-forms might forget how fragile humans were, but Lennox had never had the problem. Even before his hybrid status. Now, with all the changes, Ironhide’s touch held even more meaning.
But Ironhide set him down and he steadied himself against one large foot. Runes flocked to the point of contact. He leaned a little bit more, briefly closing his eyes.
What a fucked-up day…
“Thanks,” he said quietly.
He was still in the desert. It was morning. How long had he zoned out?
“Scavenger and Sam got worried after two days,” Ironhide answered the unspoken question, looking at him. “I was back with the bunch of fragged Wreckers about that time.”
“Wreckers?”
Leadfoot, Roadbuster, Topspin, his brain supplied, added with video footage, so to speak. Flashes from an alternate reality where those mechs existed, too.
“Yeah. Names are Leadfoot, Roadbuster and Topspin. Nasty bunch of bots. Last-resort kinda guys. Get sent into those places no sane mech would wanna go.” Ironhide shrugged. “Get the job done. Survivalists. Good mechanics, too. They got a downed ship, the Xantium, working and came here. She’s currently on the way to Arctic base for a first check. They are, too.” He grimaced. “Banachek will have fun.”
Lennox smiled dimly. The Wreckers he recalled from the flashes were, by all means, assholes with an attitude and a mean set of weaponry. He tried to shake the memory from his brain, but it stubbornly stayed.
Ironhide’s optics fell on his Cybertronian name, brightly etched around Lennox’s wrist. He knelt down and one huge, blunt finger touched it. The runes pulsed and Lennox placed his hand against the digit. His partner gave the Prime rune that was clearly visible on Will’s temple another sharp look.
“Later,” Will repeated his plea, meeting the blue optics.
“Later,” Ironhide accepted the promise.
Lennox rested his forehead against the huge hand, feeling a finger of the other hand caress his back. The Matrix seemed to respond, even though it rarely did unless there was unhindered contact - skin to metal.
Shit, shit, shit. He was truly messed up.
But he would tell his partner. He would tell him everything. He needed to talk and right now it felt more right to spill his problems to the one closest to him than to another Prime.
* * *
Things had been… chaotic. Frantic. Painful. Too much to take. Too much to sanely comprehend. And filled with death and more pain. Washington DC was a mess. Chicago was mostly standing, but still in ruins. It would take years to rebuild. The world was in deep shock, but they had learned their lesson. As harsh and cold as Optimus Prime’s decision had been, part of him knew that it had been the only one to make.
Colonel Will Lennox walked through what was left of the NEST base of Washington DC, nodding at the clean-up crew. They had done a hell of a job already and he would let them know how proud he was of them.
Later.
Right now his feet felt leaden, exhaustion dragging him down, and no amount of water and soap could wash off the grime of the final battle. He hurt in so many places, he couldn’t really say what was the worst. His ribs were bruised, two cracked. He was featuring scrapes and cuts on exposed body parts. He was black and blue on his back. One knee was really bothering him. But he was alive.
He felt a tremor run through him and he caught the swelling emotions, shoving them away.
The world had nearly ended. His world. The world of humans. Instead Cybertron had been forever destroyed because of the insanity of one lone, deranged bot.
He sighed and walked up the stairs that would give him more of an eye-level contact with the mech who had returned to DC with him. Ratchet had been adamant that he had to get back after taking care of Optimus Prime. The repairs to the Autobot leader would be extensive and he was currently stuck in Chicago until the Wreckers restored his transformation capabilities - which in their estimate would be within the next hours. They might brag, but they were that good. Reattach the arm, hammer out the worst dents, then their leader would be able to get back to their base to start the extensive repairs his own body couldn’t handle.
Ratchet had wanted to look after the more seriously injured patient who had been left in human care, deep in stasis lock. Ironhide.
The weapon’s specialist would probably see the whole situation as having missed out on all the fun of banging Decepticon heads, but it had been more. He had nearly perished.
Will hadn’t slept at all since Chicago and he wondered if he actually could. He had been awake so long, catching brief naps, but never real sleep, it was hard to think. Hard to control his emotional reactions. He was actually glad the base was to empty. The Autobots would be relocated somewhere else. Nevada had come up as an option. There was an abandoned airfield with enough underground areas to convert for them.
Lennox watched Ratchet work and listened to Ironhide complain. It felt so normal. Aside from the ruined chest armor that Ratchet was currently replacing - the final mending was up to Ironhide’s self-repair - the weapon’s specialist looked almost like before.
Will nearly let the relief shine through in his smile. Sitting down, back against the wall, he listened and watched, watched and listened. It was comforting and it was reassuring.
Ratchet finally left with a nod at him and Lennox wondered how much the mech knew. His presence hadn’t been questioned. Ratchet hadn’t even given him a second look when he had made himself as comfortable as possible and waited. How much had Ironhide told his fellow Autobots? Probably as much as Lennox had let slip to anyone else, ally or friend: nothing at all.
Blue optics looked at him as Ironhide sat up from the repair bed. He was far from completely back to normal. This would take time. But his spark was safe.
Safe.
Will shivered again. Numerous injuries twinged.
“You should be recharging,” Ironhide broke the silence between them. His voice was soft. Softer than normal. Gentle.
“Yeah.”
“You’re not.”
“No.”
Silence fell. Ironhide walked over to him,
“Wanted to see how you are,” Will added with a tired shrug that pulled at a bruised shoulder. It sounded so dumb.
“Hard to kill.”
He winced. But not impossible. Never impossible. Sentinel had come so close. Will was unclear as to the events after the first shot, but Sentinel had made a run for the hangar, stolen the pillars, and left. He hadn’t finished Ironhide off, though Will was sure he had heard a second shot.
Whatever.
Ironhide held out a hand and Lennox slid onto it. It was a familiar gesture. The mechs made a point of not belittling their allies and friends by carrying them. For Ironhide and Will it wasn’t like that.
It was more.
“Will, sleep,” Ironhide said softly.
“You able to transform?”
To make his point the massive mech shifted, neatly pushing Will into the cab. The warm leather seats had an immediate effect and when they folded back to get him into a prone position, Lennox felt his eyes slide shut. It was impossible to find a really comfortable position because of the bruises, but the seats accommodated his form and he sank into them like into a cloud.
He gave a contented sigh. The hums reverberating through the entire frame lulled him into further relaxation.
“We made it,” Ironhide murmured.
Lennox smiled briefly. “Yeah,” he breathed, then sleep claimed him.
No one disturbed the black Topkick whose windows were darkened. No one was looking for Colonel Lennox. He was on a 48-hour leave and even after that he would be off regular duty until he was cleared by a medic. Only Ratchet checked from afar, satisfied with Ironhide’s energy levels.
The Autobot medic knew more than he had ever been told. He had optics. He had a brain, as the humans might say. And he knew that those two needed their time, needed each other, and that was fine with him.
* * *
Ironhide regarded the naked form of his hybrid human partner through the eyes of his holoform. Not solely, of course. Will was curled up in his cab, physically, as well a mentally, finally exhausted enough to sleep. The Matrix was clear and sharp on his back. Ironhide’s name glowed around one wrist. The Prime glyph was there. All the other runes had seeped into the skin, it had seemed, and disappeared. The release of energy had actually managed to black the mech out for a nano-second and it had been one of the strongest reactions yet. He had almost tasted the need in his partner’s energy.
The holoform reached out and traced the intricate pattern of the Matrix runes. Will moved sleepily, making an appreciative sound. Ironhide felt a smile come up and kept up the gentle contact.
What Lennox had told him had floored him. Part of him hated the ancient Primes for meddling, for always interfering, for pushing his bonded this far. Of course Will was powerful and would find out more about himself as his life continued. They didn’t have to push.
Whether or not the dream was truly a reality or not, whether Will had managed to influence it, was still an open guess. Maybe another Ironhide had a relationship with another Will Lennox. Maybe his bonded had saved this Lennox from a world of pain. He knew his partner had saved himself, and Ironhide, from it that one moment in time. When Soundwave had killed Ironhide.
His hand stilled on the center of the Matrix and the runes seemed to move. Lennox mumbled something and Ironhide draped the holoform over the naked man. It quieted the hybrid down and the Matrix seemed to pulse gently once-twice, then everything calmed. Ironhide pressed a kiss against Will’s neck, smiling more when the gesture drew an appreciative murmur. Yes, studying human behavior was useful. And Will very much appreciated the efforts.
The Wreckers had existed in the other reality. Lennox had known their names. The red mech, who Will had called Sentinel Prime, didn’t exist in theirs, though. Sure, Sentinel Prime had been alive. Had been, being the operative word. He was one of those long-past Primes, the predecessor of Optimus. His death had been long before the war, too. There had always ever been one Prime, one leader. Always with a Lord Protector as a partner.
It was strangely painful to know that somewhere else, in another reality, a Prime had betrayed his kind and allied himself with the Decepticons in the false hope to save a doomed planet. And this Cybertron was dead. Maybe his own homeworld was already, too.
Ironhide chased those thoughts away. He didn’t want to ponder the What Ifs and Might Bees.
The Matrix pulsed softly against the point of contact between his holoform and Will. It was calming, reassuring.
Whatever happened in the other reality, Ironhide knew his own was plenty for him. Lennox made a soft sound, as if agreeing to his silent thoughts, and Ironhide felt a smile course through him.
Yeah, this was plenty enough for him.
fin
Okay, got that one out of my system. Gah!
SERIES: Imperfection Deviation
AUTHOR: Macx
RATING: PG-13
DISCLAIMER: None of the characters belong to me, sadly. They are owned by people with a lot more money :)
FEEDBACK: Loved
MASSIVE SPOILER ALERT for Transformers 3: Dark of the Moon! Don't read if you haven't seen it yet! Major plot points dealt with!! After watching the movie for the first time, this little story wouldn’t let me go. The second time, in IMAX 3-D (can I just say: Wow!!), just helped the bunnies along.
Premiere time for me, too: I actually wrote this by hand! At the Halifax airport and on the plane (turbulence is bad for writing… you never hit the paper…). I typed this after coming home and being awake for almost 30 hours because I couldn’t get my wired brain to shut up.
Now, after twelve hours of sleep, I present you with the Fic That Wouldn’t Go Away.
This is Macx’s Fix-It version. You own it to the fact that Will Lennox in black battle gear looks simply hot!
All grammar errors are mine. I'm too jet-lagged to really see much any more....
He blinked.
And found himself in the middle of a battle. Something exploded to his right, but the heat didn’t seem to register on his skin. Nor was there any backlash from the concussion the energy explosion created. It was like being immersed in a 3-D world where nothing was real.
A mech he had never seen before - huge, red and strangely ancient looking - stood just a few feet away from him, aiming his gun at…
“Ironhide?”
… and fire.
The shot tore through Ironhide’s upper body, exploding out of his back and ripping deep wounds.
“NO!”
The black mech tumbled, fell forward, crashed. The red one aimed again.
Fired.
And Ironhide’s chest was torn to pieces.
“IRONHIDE!!”
Blue optics flickered.
He started to run.
But it was too late.
The empty optics stared accusingly at him, then the whole body of the familiar mechanoid began to crumble. Like rust eating him.
“NOOOOO!”
The next scream was inhuman as the spark died within the weapon’s specialist. Will Lennox screamed at the top of his lungs and energy rushed through him, consuming him, aggressive and spoiling for a fight.
The need to kill something rose and he whirled around, looking for the red mech, but he was gone. All he saw was death and destruction. Dimly part of him told the hybrid that this looked like Washington DC; that there were humans running around, trying to tend to their wounded comrades; that someone he glimpsed looked an awful lot like Sam. But it didn’t register on his conscious mind. There was only the agony of loss and the emptiness of the spark, the dark optics of his partner.
He cried out his pain as Ironhide fell into reddish dust.
Energy coalesced and he released it. It tore out of him in a screech.
-- and he bolted upright.
Panting hard, Lennox frantically looked around.
No battle field. No enemy. Nothing. Just a familiar room in a familiar base. His guest room, Yuma. He was breathing hard, his whole body tingled, and his heart hammered frantically. He wasn’t aware of his skin looking like a replica of the Allspark’s exterior. He didn’t see his eyes glow an electric blue in a bluish white-gray iris.
His partner’s name left his lips and he stumbled out of bed, barely realizing the energy licking over his fingers as he balled them into fists.
Lennox knew Ironhide wasn’t here. He wasn’t in Yuma, or the States, let alone the same continent. He was running a mission, he recalled. Overseas.
Will ran a shaky hand over his face. He caught sight of the dark bronze and burned golden skin. A look in the bathroom mirror confirmed that he was in basic Allspark-exterior mode.
“Shit,” he whispered and staggered out of the room, needing to move.
Flashes of the …what? - nightmare? dream? vision? - ran through his mind and he tried to shake them, but they persisted. So real, so fragging real! It was as if he had been there. And maybe he had. For a second he had been there.
But where? And why? This wasn’t even close to anything he had ever seen or been through. It didn’t resemble a battle on Cybertron either that Ironhide might have told him about. And who had been the red mech?
What was going on?
Will nearly ran into a sandy brown leg with dark trimming. He managed to side-step and looked up, meeting the red optics of Scavenger.
“Sorry,” he managed.
“You don’t look too good, Will,” the Constructicon remarked, sounding neutral.
Which was an understatement. He looked bad. He looked ready to fight an enemy that wasn’t real. He looked ready to avenge the death of his bonded, who hadn’t died and who was rather alive and well somewhere else.
Lennox was brimming with energy and he needed to get rid of it.
“Bad dream,” he murmured, trying to change shape but failing.
Scavenger went down on one knee, red optics sharp and holding a knowing glimmer. “Really bad,” he commented. “Ironhide?”
Damn, he was an open book! And he wasn’t some emotional kid pining after his lover! Anger swamped him and the runes sizzled with energy.
Scavenger drew back a little.
“Sorry,” Will muttered. “I’m a bit… upset.”
“Apparently. And if it was connected to your bonded, which I think it is, you might want to seek him out.”
“He’s in Siberia, Scavenger!”
It got him a tilt of the head, coupled with a look that easily translated as ‘I know, Will Lennox you super-moron’. Not that Scavenger would say it.
“You can transform, Will. You could go there easily.”
“I’m not going to run after ‘Hide because of some freakish dream! I can deal with it!”
“Holy shit, Lennox.”
Great. Just what he needed.
“Sam,” he managed, trying to ignore flashes of another Sam.
-- staring in horror at the scene before him; running from enemy fire; almost killed by Starscream; saving the world a third time.
Damnit! He didn’t need this! He didn’t need some nightmarish semi-reality in his head!
“This isn’t good,” the younger man said, narrowed eyes on Lennox.
For all his youthful appearance, Sam Witwicky was a lot older than the one from Lennox’s… yeah, okay, call it a vision… He was a Prime, he was bonded to Bumblebee, he was a double-doctorate and engineer.
“What triggered?”
“Bad dream.”
Nightmare. Vision. Fucked-up brain.
“Get outside,” Scavenger told him firmly. “Burn it off. If this gets out of control in here…”
Will didn’t need to be told. He knew. He knew what he could do. And he knew he had to let the energy get out before it ate up his control. As much as he could control it, this was too emotional. Emotions were volatile and dreams even more so. He had to get it out of his system and he had to do it quickly.
“Prime,” Scavenger started again, a warning in his voice.
“I’m going,” he said harshly. “Just tell everyone to stay clear.”
Neither Sam nor Scavenger needed to be told.
* * *
Will felt like in a haze. Energy filled the space around him, flickering through his field of vision like tiny moths. The release hadn’t been as tremendous as the first time he had accidentally let the energy inside him play without parental guidance. He was pretty sure he hadn’t flattened a mountain or created a ten-mile crater. He was also pretty sure that Yuma had shut off their scanners and ignored the noise coming from this lost corner of their testing ground. Otherwise scanners would be shrilling with alarm and someone might want to go and figure out what had blown up. Then again, the Constructicons were responsible for this area and Scavenger had told the Yuma commander that something could be expected.
He blinked.
“You need to learn restraint, young Prime.”
Red optics in a clearly alien face loomed over him. Six optics. In a face that looked barely like one. There was no nose and the mouth was a jagged opening. Terrifying for a human. Will met the red gaze. He knew the faces of the ancient Primes and this was one of the spokespersons. Some never talked, simply hovered. This was one who was a chosen speaker.
“This was your doing,” he said, sounding exhausted.
He was no longer in the desert, but it was a desert around him. Alien. A mind-plane. Something the Primes liked to do when they set their energies to it. For a bunch of dead sparks they loved to meddle.
All sparks returned to the Allspark, Optimus Prime had told him once. Since all current Primes were closely linked to the Cosmic Cube, it was easy for the ancient Primes to meddle. Their preferred contacts were Sam and Will. Lately, Lennox alone had had the honor. Why not Tony? He would get a blast out of it! Rodimus and Optimus had no idea why they didn’t get more ‘hauntings’. Then again, who wanted to talk to their ancestors? Will sure didn’t. It was never good and this time proved it, too.
“We merely gave you access to what you are capable of.”
“And I’m capable of what? Seeing alternate pasts? What Could Have Beens? History with a twist?”
“Alternate realities.”
“So this was real?”
“Somewhere it is.”
“Where?”
“Somewhere.”
Will laughed humorlessly and shook his head. “You guys need to learn to talk.”
“Maybe you need to learn to listen.”
“To dead Primes?”
“To your instincts.”
Will’s eyes narrowed. “My instincts tell me to kick your butts back to wherever you came from!”
It got him a chuckle. Six red optics flared slightly.
“Glad someone finds it funny!” Lennox closed his eyes, more tired than before. “What do you want?”
“What do you want to do?” the Prime countered his question.
Save Ironhide. Stop his death. Don’t let him die.
“Stop doing that!”
“Would you want to change history?”
“It didn’t happen!” Will screamed.
“It did. In one reality it did.”
“Not in mine!”
“Your loss was different. The death was different. Still you prevailed. Your bonded lives.”
This one had died. But it was one of many possibilities, right? It wasn’t his partner. It wasn’t his Ironhide!
Will dug his fingers into the sand. “Why show me this one? Why show me a reality that isn’t my own? This never happened here! It has nothing to do with me!”
He had briefly seen another him. Dressed in a black outfit, clearly military, staring in horror and despair at the smoldering corpse, then following his training and instinct as he protected another version of Sam.
Colonel Will Lennox. Commander in charge of NEST. Recently divorced.
The knowledge came easily enough, as if he was reading a book.
“What is it to you if this reality had Ironhide die?” Will demanded.
His stomach threatened to turn at the words. Ironhide’s death at the hands of the unknown red mech was clear on his mind. Very clear.
“We try to push your potential, young Prime. You are part of our legacy.”
What potential? Go somewhere and meddle? Why would he want to see other realities? He was pretty much okay with his own, which wasn’t all that much fun and games sometimes either.
“You want me to go around and change history?”
“No.”
Frustration rose and with it the ancient power within him. “Then what do you want?!”
“What do you want, Avatar Prime?”
Save Ironhide. Don’t let him die.
He pushed the manipulative fingers on his mind away, hissing angrily. The Prime drew back a little and he appeared somewhat satisfied.
Seeing the horror in his other self’s eyes… Will wondered if there had been more. Had there been more? Could there be more? Between a human being and a mechanoid life-form? Without the alterations inflicted by the Allspark?
His head started to ache.
“Stop meddling with my life!” he whispered harshly. “I won’t go around changing the events of alternate universes!”
“Do you want to change it?”
He glared.
The Prime looked back, unperturbed.
“Why this one?!”
“It’s your decision.”
“That doesn’t answer my question!”
The flashes of violent death, despair, horror and pain came back. He saw it all again and again, Ironhide’s death, the battle, the countless deaths.
“What happens if I do step in?” he cried.
Nothing would change of the battle’s outcome if Ironhide survived. Nothing at all. Ironhide wouldn’t take part in the final fight against Megatron and the Decepticons.
“It’s up to them,” the Prime murmured. “A warrior’s bond is strong.”
Why me? Lennox raged. Why did they have to pick him over and over again? Why change this little fact? Couldn’t they do it themselves?
Why this reality?
Something tickled his senses. Because maybe, this was the only other one where Will Lennox and Ironhide would ever meet like this. He recalled faint memories of the first time he had touched other realities. There had been death in them, too. But Will had never felt this strongly about a possibility.
“You are worse than meddling relatives!” he snarled.
The Prime didn’t answer.
“What are you? Couple therapist? You want them to get a chance?”
No answer again.
He blinked.
-- And he was in the middle of the fight again. It was like a very bad dream, seeing Ironhide get shot again; going down. The disbelief in the black mech’s optics at the betrayal.
The red one raised his gun.
Will knew he couldn’t watch again. Not without acting.
Energy coalesced between his fingers, forming a tight ball.
The red one fire.
The energy released, counteracting the shot. There was an explosion, almost blinding Will, and when he could see again the red one was running into the building. Just like the last time. Just like the last time there were more shots fired inside, more explosions.
Lennox didn’t care. He gazed at the severely damaged black mech.
Blue optics met white-gray non-human eyes with a pin-brick of blue in them. The hybrid was in complete battle mode, though he hadn’t - thankfully! - taken on his Protoform shape.
“W-who?... What are you?” Ironhide rasped.
His systems were failing fast. Will could almost feel the alarms going off everywhere, the frantic rerouting of energon, the fight to survive.
He placed a hand against one massive cheek. Allspark or not, whatever transferred that moment saved the sputtering spark from extinction. Ironhide wheezed.
“Lennox?”
Will just smiled. “No. Not him.”
The optics flickered.
“Find him. Talk to him,” the human Prime only said. “You’ll be good for one another.”
Because this was one reality where they might have a fighting chance, too. Maybe more.
He blinked.
-- And found himself held by a very familiar mech. Not a dream, not an illusion, not an alternate reality. He simply knew this was Ironhide, his bonded partner. Blue optics regarded him curiously, not without surprise, and Will tried to get his scrambled brain into gear.
“Hide?” he blurted, immediately feeling stupid.
“Will,” was the gruff reply.
“Uh…”
“You zoned out.”
“Yeah. How… I mean, when…?”
Very intelligent, Will, he told himself.
“Me and the new guys got back this morning. Sam told me about your… dream. And that you might be here. Still.”
Will scrubbed his hands over his eyes. His brain was trying to unscramble itself and he felt a faint headache behind his eyes. Had he really done this? Fixed another reality? And why? Because another him might have a shot at an unlikely relationship? What if he had truly manipulated another reality?
He shivered.
“Will?” Ironhide asked, sounding concerned.
“I’m okay. I just need to…” he shrugged. “Gimme a bit, okay?”
Ironhide studied him, then nodded.
“Uh, set me down?” Will requested.
It got him a grin. “Uncomfortable?”
Actually, he thought, no.
He had never been uncomfortable being held or touched by this mech. He knew some humans didn’t want it, were afraid the huge mechanoid life-forms might forget how fragile humans were, but Lennox had never had the problem. Even before his hybrid status. Now, with all the changes, Ironhide’s touch held even more meaning.
But Ironhide set him down and he steadied himself against one large foot. Runes flocked to the point of contact. He leaned a little bit more, briefly closing his eyes.
What a fucked-up day…
“Thanks,” he said quietly.
He was still in the desert. It was morning. How long had he zoned out?
“Scavenger and Sam got worried after two days,” Ironhide answered the unspoken question, looking at him. “I was back with the bunch of fragged Wreckers about that time.”
“Wreckers?”
Leadfoot, Roadbuster, Topspin, his brain supplied, added with video footage, so to speak. Flashes from an alternate reality where those mechs existed, too.
“Yeah. Names are Leadfoot, Roadbuster and Topspin. Nasty bunch of bots. Last-resort kinda guys. Get sent into those places no sane mech would wanna go.” Ironhide shrugged. “Get the job done. Survivalists. Good mechanics, too. They got a downed ship, the Xantium, working and came here. She’s currently on the way to Arctic base for a first check. They are, too.” He grimaced. “Banachek will have fun.”
Lennox smiled dimly. The Wreckers he recalled from the flashes were, by all means, assholes with an attitude and a mean set of weaponry. He tried to shake the memory from his brain, but it stubbornly stayed.
Ironhide’s optics fell on his Cybertronian name, brightly etched around Lennox’s wrist. He knelt down and one huge, blunt finger touched it. The runes pulsed and Lennox placed his hand against the digit. His partner gave the Prime rune that was clearly visible on Will’s temple another sharp look.
“Later,” Will repeated his plea, meeting the blue optics.
“Later,” Ironhide accepted the promise.
Lennox rested his forehead against the huge hand, feeling a finger of the other hand caress his back. The Matrix seemed to respond, even though it rarely did unless there was unhindered contact - skin to metal.
Shit, shit, shit. He was truly messed up.
But he would tell his partner. He would tell him everything. He needed to talk and right now it felt more right to spill his problems to the one closest to him than to another Prime.
* * *
Things had been… chaotic. Frantic. Painful. Too much to take. Too much to sanely comprehend. And filled with death and more pain. Washington DC was a mess. Chicago was mostly standing, but still in ruins. It would take years to rebuild. The world was in deep shock, but they had learned their lesson. As harsh and cold as Optimus Prime’s decision had been, part of him knew that it had been the only one to make.
Colonel Will Lennox walked through what was left of the NEST base of Washington DC, nodding at the clean-up crew. They had done a hell of a job already and he would let them know how proud he was of them.
Later.
Right now his feet felt leaden, exhaustion dragging him down, and no amount of water and soap could wash off the grime of the final battle. He hurt in so many places, he couldn’t really say what was the worst. His ribs were bruised, two cracked. He was featuring scrapes and cuts on exposed body parts. He was black and blue on his back. One knee was really bothering him. But he was alive.
He felt a tremor run through him and he caught the swelling emotions, shoving them away.
The world had nearly ended. His world. The world of humans. Instead Cybertron had been forever destroyed because of the insanity of one lone, deranged bot.
He sighed and walked up the stairs that would give him more of an eye-level contact with the mech who had returned to DC with him. Ratchet had been adamant that he had to get back after taking care of Optimus Prime. The repairs to the Autobot leader would be extensive and he was currently stuck in Chicago until the Wreckers restored his transformation capabilities - which in their estimate would be within the next hours. They might brag, but they were that good. Reattach the arm, hammer out the worst dents, then their leader would be able to get back to their base to start the extensive repairs his own body couldn’t handle.
Ratchet had wanted to look after the more seriously injured patient who had been left in human care, deep in stasis lock. Ironhide.
The weapon’s specialist would probably see the whole situation as having missed out on all the fun of banging Decepticon heads, but it had been more. He had nearly perished.
Will hadn’t slept at all since Chicago and he wondered if he actually could. He had been awake so long, catching brief naps, but never real sleep, it was hard to think. Hard to control his emotional reactions. He was actually glad the base was to empty. The Autobots would be relocated somewhere else. Nevada had come up as an option. There was an abandoned airfield with enough underground areas to convert for them.
Lennox watched Ratchet work and listened to Ironhide complain. It felt so normal. Aside from the ruined chest armor that Ratchet was currently replacing - the final mending was up to Ironhide’s self-repair - the weapon’s specialist looked almost like before.
Will nearly let the relief shine through in his smile. Sitting down, back against the wall, he listened and watched, watched and listened. It was comforting and it was reassuring.
Ratchet finally left with a nod at him and Lennox wondered how much the mech knew. His presence hadn’t been questioned. Ratchet hadn’t even given him a second look when he had made himself as comfortable as possible and waited. How much had Ironhide told his fellow Autobots? Probably as much as Lennox had let slip to anyone else, ally or friend: nothing at all.
Blue optics looked at him as Ironhide sat up from the repair bed. He was far from completely back to normal. This would take time. But his spark was safe.
Safe.
Will shivered again. Numerous injuries twinged.
“You should be recharging,” Ironhide broke the silence between them. His voice was soft. Softer than normal. Gentle.
“Yeah.”
“You’re not.”
“No.”
Silence fell. Ironhide walked over to him,
“Wanted to see how you are,” Will added with a tired shrug that pulled at a bruised shoulder. It sounded so dumb.
“Hard to kill.”
He winced. But not impossible. Never impossible. Sentinel had come so close. Will was unclear as to the events after the first shot, but Sentinel had made a run for the hangar, stolen the pillars, and left. He hadn’t finished Ironhide off, though Will was sure he had heard a second shot.
Whatever.
Ironhide held out a hand and Lennox slid onto it. It was a familiar gesture. The mechs made a point of not belittling their allies and friends by carrying them. For Ironhide and Will it wasn’t like that.
It was more.
“Will, sleep,” Ironhide said softly.
“You able to transform?”
To make his point the massive mech shifted, neatly pushing Will into the cab. The warm leather seats had an immediate effect and when they folded back to get him into a prone position, Lennox felt his eyes slide shut. It was impossible to find a really comfortable position because of the bruises, but the seats accommodated his form and he sank into them like into a cloud.
He gave a contented sigh. The hums reverberating through the entire frame lulled him into further relaxation.
“We made it,” Ironhide murmured.
Lennox smiled briefly. “Yeah,” he breathed, then sleep claimed him.
No one disturbed the black Topkick whose windows were darkened. No one was looking for Colonel Lennox. He was on a 48-hour leave and even after that he would be off regular duty until he was cleared by a medic. Only Ratchet checked from afar, satisfied with Ironhide’s energy levels.
The Autobot medic knew more than he had ever been told. He had optics. He had a brain, as the humans might say. And he knew that those two needed their time, needed each other, and that was fine with him.
* * *
Ironhide regarded the naked form of his hybrid human partner through the eyes of his holoform. Not solely, of course. Will was curled up in his cab, physically, as well a mentally, finally exhausted enough to sleep. The Matrix was clear and sharp on his back. Ironhide’s name glowed around one wrist. The Prime glyph was there. All the other runes had seeped into the skin, it had seemed, and disappeared. The release of energy had actually managed to black the mech out for a nano-second and it had been one of the strongest reactions yet. He had almost tasted the need in his partner’s energy.
The holoform reached out and traced the intricate pattern of the Matrix runes. Will moved sleepily, making an appreciative sound. Ironhide felt a smile come up and kept up the gentle contact.
What Lennox had told him had floored him. Part of him hated the ancient Primes for meddling, for always interfering, for pushing his bonded this far. Of course Will was powerful and would find out more about himself as his life continued. They didn’t have to push.
Whether or not the dream was truly a reality or not, whether Will had managed to influence it, was still an open guess. Maybe another Ironhide had a relationship with another Will Lennox. Maybe his bonded had saved this Lennox from a world of pain. He knew his partner had saved himself, and Ironhide, from it that one moment in time. When Soundwave had killed Ironhide.
His hand stilled on the center of the Matrix and the runes seemed to move. Lennox mumbled something and Ironhide draped the holoform over the naked man. It quieted the hybrid down and the Matrix seemed to pulse gently once-twice, then everything calmed. Ironhide pressed a kiss against Will’s neck, smiling more when the gesture drew an appreciative murmur. Yes, studying human behavior was useful. And Will very much appreciated the efforts.
The Wreckers had existed in the other reality. Lennox had known their names. The red mech, who Will had called Sentinel Prime, didn’t exist in theirs, though. Sure, Sentinel Prime had been alive. Had been, being the operative word. He was one of those long-past Primes, the predecessor of Optimus. His death had been long before the war, too. There had always ever been one Prime, one leader. Always with a Lord Protector as a partner.
It was strangely painful to know that somewhere else, in another reality, a Prime had betrayed his kind and allied himself with the Decepticons in the false hope to save a doomed planet. And this Cybertron was dead. Maybe his own homeworld was already, too.
Ironhide chased those thoughts away. He didn’t want to ponder the What Ifs and Might Bees.
The Matrix pulsed softly against the point of contact between his holoform and Will. It was calming, reassuring.
Whatever happened in the other reality, Ironhide knew his own was plenty for him. Lennox made a soft sound, as if agreeing to his silent thoughts, and Ironhide felt a smile course through him.
Yeah, this was plenty enough for him.
fin
Okay, got that one out of my system. Gah!