Comfort, Part II
(OOC: More moving forward of plot wow, we're really moving now. XD Takes place after this.)
Three weeks later...
...and Ironhide sat looking out at sunlight glinting off of water still too cold for his partner to venture into without risking hypothermia. It was the weapons specialist who did most of the catching of fish, leaving Will to deal with them as he chose. There was small game in the area, too. The Ranger hunted when he had the inclination. Mostly he continued coming to terms with everything, suicide, guilt, anger, sadness. Not the easiest three weeks Ironhide could remember, but he thought at least, Lennox seemed to be coping better. The Ranger talked, ate, and slept. Sometimes he dreamed, and more than once the mech came out of recharge to feel hands gripping his plates, and the traces of tears on armor. But mostly, he felt sure, Lennox was recovering.
If only Ironhide could say the same. The Guardian leaned against the large rock that Will had claimed as one of his spots to sit at midday, with the sun at its zenith and warming it nicely. His engine stuttered, systems churned sluggishly, his field flickered erratically, and Ironhide sat and wrestled with unwelcome thoughts. He hadn't told Lennox, and he had no intention of telling him, how well Ironhide understood what led his partner to make the attempt to end his life. As much as the mech tried not to think about it, it pressed on him. Will was here, now, but for such a short, terribly brief span of time, while Ironhide's lifespan was closer to eternity by comparison. Going on alone here, without his partner... the thought of that made the choice Will tried to make, his attempt to end things, seem painfully clear.
The past few days had been the worst yet, with Ironhide withdrawing more from his partner, still present but keeping his thoughts to himself, and only monosyllabic replies to Will's conversation, especially whenever the topic strayed anywhere close to what weighed so heavily on the mech's processors.
Ironhide's vents sighed out air, but there was a stubborn set to his mouthplates. Frag it, the Ranger didn't need the added burden of knowing something was bothering his Guardian on top of everything else he was dealing with.
Three weeks later...
...and Ironhide sat looking out at sunlight glinting off of water still too cold for his partner to venture into without risking hypothermia. It was the weapons specialist who did most of the catching of fish, leaving Will to deal with them as he chose. There was small game in the area, too. The Ranger hunted when he had the inclination. Mostly he continued coming to terms with everything, suicide, guilt, anger, sadness. Not the easiest three weeks Ironhide could remember, but he thought at least, Lennox seemed to be coping better. The Ranger talked, ate, and slept. Sometimes he dreamed, and more than once the mech came out of recharge to feel hands gripping his plates, and the traces of tears on armor. But mostly, he felt sure, Lennox was recovering.
If only Ironhide could say the same. The Guardian leaned against the large rock that Will had claimed as one of his spots to sit at midday, with the sun at its zenith and warming it nicely. His engine stuttered, systems churned sluggishly, his field flickered erratically, and Ironhide sat and wrestled with unwelcome thoughts. He hadn't told Lennox, and he had no intention of telling him, how well Ironhide understood what led his partner to make the attempt to end his life. As much as the mech tried not to think about it, it pressed on him. Will was here, now, but for such a short, terribly brief span of time, while Ironhide's lifespan was closer to eternity by comparison. Going on alone here, without his partner... the thought of that made the choice Will tried to make, his attempt to end things, seem painfully clear.
The past few days had been the worst yet, with Ironhide withdrawing more from his partner, still present but keeping his thoughts to himself, and only monosyllabic replies to Will's conversation, especially whenever the topic strayed anywhere close to what weighed so heavily on the mech's processors.
Ironhide's vents sighed out air, but there was a stubborn set to his mouthplates. Frag it, the Ranger didn't need the added burden of knowing something was bothering his Guardian on top of everything else he was dealing with.