Fic: If We Could Just Speak Quietly (Transformers, Ironhide/Ratchet)
Title: If We Could Just Speak Quietly
Fandom: Transformers (Dark of the Moon)
Pairing: Ironhide/Ratchet
Rating: PG
Warning: Character death centric storyline.
Word Count: 1880
Summary: Sideswipe broke the news, Optimus blamed himself for the news, and Bumblebee helped Ratchet to cope with it.
Author's Notes: Spoilers for Transformers: Dark of the Moon within, and all my love to fahrenheit_f430 for betaing <3.
Sideswipe was the first to break the news. It was involuntary, a cry of disbelief that ended up lost in everyone else's broadcasts about Sentinel's betrayal, but he was still the first to say Ironhide had been killed. Others mentioned how Ironhide had been shot, but Sideswipe knew not to be an optimist about restoring his friend from scraps.
There was nothing left he could safely bring to Ratchet by way of comfort. Ironhide's remains were tainted by cosmic rust, too dangerous to touch or move, and Sideswipe had no real means with which to lessen the blow of telling Ratchet the news to his face.
"He died quickly," Sideswipe offered, and watched Ratchet lock up tight before shrugging and resuming his work repairing the bots who had escaped with their lives.
Not knowing what else he could do, Sideswipe left Ratchet to it and returned to telling the others how Ironhide had always said he wanted to go out in battle; it was a lie, one that he and Ratchet were both privy to, but it was a lie Ironhide had spread deliberately for years before his death. A lie meant to help those who believed it to accept his passing.
For better or worse, it seemed to be working.
Optimus blamed himself for Ironhide's death. Sentinel's betrayal had ended hundreds of human and Autobot lives, had nearly ended millions more, but it had started with one of Optimus' oldest and closest friends and the ache of that loss would linger for decades to come. He should not have trusted in Sentinel so easily, even if he was far from the only Autobot to be swept up in the excitement of a leader they had thought dead returning to them almost unharmed.
Regrets would not change the existing situation, and they would not give him back his friend or Ratchet his partner. All they could do was ensure he would not make the same mistakes again.
Ratchet had thrown himself into his work and Optimus wished he could leave Ratchet to mourn in peace; unfortunately, even if an arm was easily enough reattached, perfecting the reconnection took time. There were wires in need of threading back into place and broken connections that required welding shut, which meant regular visits.
Optimus was not the only one to think he was responsible for Ironhide's death, and as a result the tension between Ratchet and himself was thick enough to ensure they were always left alone for their check-ups. When he first approached Ratchet he had made the mistake of apologising; Ratchet's reaction had been cold, Optimus' apology rejected in an instant and the reason why made clear just as quickly. Ironhide would not have wanted anyone to say sorry over him, and Ratchet was not ready to forgive anyone who tried to.
Optimus did not wish to hurt Ratchet further by accident and kept quiet on the subject after that until their sessions were nearing an end. When his arm was close to fully healed, his new scars well earned, Optimus knew he had to take what time they did have left to ensure the rift between them would not grow into something worse.
As Ratchet inspected his shoulder, Optimus caught his hand and gripped it gently, held back the apology he wanted to make and voiced a different truth.
The bond between Ironhide and Ratchet had been no secret, their bickering in public a constant source of levity and their ability to balance their responsibilities with their connection worthy of respect. Having fought alongside Ironhide for many years, Optimus had been present for several of his friend's more contemplative moments and was well aware Ironhide felt he had "lucked out" with Ratchet.
"He knew you loved him."
Optimus waited for an answer, but it did not come quickly; Ratchet kept quiet as he finished his checks of Optimus' shoulder and sent him on his way, and it wasn't until their last session that Ratchet said, "He made me laugh more than anyone else."
While that was all Ratchet had to say and nothing had happened to fully clear the air between them, Optimus felt a shift in the atmosphere as he left the room. He knew it would be some time yet before he would see forgiveness in Ratchet's eyes, and that he would likely never find words to ask for that forgiveness, but even one step in the right direction was still a step.
After Bumblebee saw Que executed in front of him and came close to suffering the same fate, most of the other Autobots had started behaving excessively affectionately towards him, telling him what he meant to them and what their favourite memories of him were. It was a thoughtless sort of kindness, and while he understood where it came from - he had broadcasted his fear and his love for his comrades loud and clear when thinking he truly was about to die - it had left him feeling a little as if he was attending his own memorial.
Ratchet had been far less dramatic about Bumblebee's brush with death for obvious reasons, and Bumblebee was thankful for it; it wasn't so strange that he should want to find a way of showing that thanks.
Ratchet had said nothing about Ironhide's death while keeping Bumblebee under his wing, and it worried Bumblebee that his friend seemed unable to mourn his partner even when granted enough time without work to do it in peace. Bumblebee wasn't the smartest of the Autobots but he was bright enough, and felt safe in drawing his own conclusions about Ratchet's actions.
Ratchet needed company if he was to mourn Ironhide and he was too stubborn to ask for it.
Bumblebee knew offering a bond under the circumstances was unusual, but he wanted to give Ratchet the means to grieve Ironhide's passing with him. Ratchet was as hesitant at first in accepting the bond as Bumblebee was in offering it, but with Bumblebee's voice still recovering and other methods of communication too impersonal, it seemed the best way.
They had bonded on other occasions for different reasons, better reasons - as comfort when repairing damage, as entertainment when bored, on occasion as something more intimate though Ironhide had always been Ratchet's primary love.
Ratchet seized up after making the connection, his defences up and his systems tense, so Bumblebee pushed as gently as he could with a memory of another, happier time. There were many he could choose from, but the first to come to mind was a moment between battles on Earth when he had been present for a game of Ironhide's design. Ratchet had stood in the middle of a field of wheat blasting patterns into the crop, while Ironhide awarded points for symmetry and accuracy. Bumblebee kept score, suggesting Ironhide should make himself an award if Ratchet scored enough points, and had been the first to laugh when Optimus told them off for being wasteful afterwards. None of them had listened, and in all honesty, Bumblebee didn't think Optimus had expected them to.
Ratchet's response to the memory was no more than white noise at first, keening and quiet, his grip on Bumblebee's thigh tensing. Bumblebee squeezed his friend's shoulder in return, tightened the bolt connecting the cable between them just a little to secure it. "It's okay to miss him," Bumblebee sent. "I do too."
Ratchet's barriers fell, and the pain behind them wasn't clean or pretty, but Bumblebee held the link as Ratchet allowed himself to feel the grief he had so forcefully pushed down and away. Rage at first, at Sentinel, at Optimus for trusting Sentinel, at himself for not being the one to avenge Ironhide's death. Despair, once the rage passed.
The begging was hardest to cope with. Not the begging for Ironhide back - that he could understand - but the begging to swap places with Ironhide or join him in death. Bumblebee didn't interrupt even though he wasn't completely sure his silence was the reaction Ratchet needed, waited for Ratchet to go quiet and then quieter still until there was nothing between them but the faint static of their sparks.
Ratchet's half completed message of "Why did you -" warranted a reply Bumblebee had wanted to give from the start.
"Your friends still love you. It's okay."
"It isn't," Ratchet sent back, despondent rather than snapping. "He nearly saw it end. He was so close."
Bumblebee let go of Ratchet's shoulders and wrapped both arms around him as best as possible, pulled him close despite it almost crushing the cable connecting them. "Maybe it's not okay yet, but it will be. It will be. I promise."
Ratchet fell quiet again and Bumblebee kept hold of him, occasionally flexing his grip or sending through a pulse just to remind him he wasn't alone, but nothing more. Ratchet needed someone who would listen to him, not someone who talked. More than anything he needed rest, and Bumblebee was willing to keep him company while he got it.
One night wasn't enough to make everything right, but it seemed enough to persuade Ratchet he was allowed to continue mourning in his own way. There were good days and bad days, and occasionally outright terrible days, but as time passed Bumblebee saw his friend recover. As they tracked down the remaining Decepticons, mostly dissidents and cowards who had not turned up to Megatron's last stand, Ratchet's behaviour became more familiar; while at first he was as aggressive as Sideswipe, he gradually returned to his more diplomatic self. The Decepticons directly responsible for Ironhide's murder were already dead, and Ratchet was still a healer at heart above all else.
When Ratchet cuffed Bumblebee after catching him tidying up the medical bay and said, "I thought I was the one supposed to be looking after you?", Bumblebee finally felt he could stop keeping watch. It was even more of a relief when the day came that he bonded with Ratchet and found his friend's spark settled; Ratchet's barriers were back up, but they didn't feel strained or rigid anymore. They felt like they were there by choice rather than necessity, and there were memories of Ironhide left open for viewing instead of being shut away as though the very fact Ironhide had once lived was painful.
With time the others had also started taking Bumblebee's continued existence for granted again, and though perhaps he should have felt a little sad at that, he couldn't help but feel grateful. It was good to fit in again, to have others pay attention to him when he sought it instead of every moment of every day.
The world was always going to be changing, in some ways to improve, in others to worsen, but their war was over in every way that counted now. They had a place to call home that they had successfully protected, and they had earned their rest. Ironhide's death before he could rest with them was a weight they all carried, but not an unbearable one. They had the support of each other.
And if Ratchet could move on from that death to enjoy the life he'd made for himself on Earth, then so could everyone else.
Fandom: Transformers (Dark of the Moon)
Pairing: Ironhide/Ratchet
Rating: PG
Warning: Character death centric storyline.
Word Count: 1880
Summary: Sideswipe broke the news, Optimus blamed himself for the news, and Bumblebee helped Ratchet to cope with it.
Author's Notes: Spoilers for Transformers: Dark of the Moon within, and all my love to fahrenheit_f430 for betaing <3.
Sideswipe was the first to break the news. It was involuntary, a cry of disbelief that ended up lost in everyone else's broadcasts about Sentinel's betrayal, but he was still the first to say Ironhide had been killed. Others mentioned how Ironhide had been shot, but Sideswipe knew not to be an optimist about restoring his friend from scraps.
There was nothing left he could safely bring to Ratchet by way of comfort. Ironhide's remains were tainted by cosmic rust, too dangerous to touch or move, and Sideswipe had no real means with which to lessen the blow of telling Ratchet the news to his face.
"He died quickly," Sideswipe offered, and watched Ratchet lock up tight before shrugging and resuming his work repairing the bots who had escaped with their lives.
Not knowing what else he could do, Sideswipe left Ratchet to it and returned to telling the others how Ironhide had always said he wanted to go out in battle; it was a lie, one that he and Ratchet were both privy to, but it was a lie Ironhide had spread deliberately for years before his death. A lie meant to help those who believed it to accept his passing.
For better or worse, it seemed to be working.
Optimus blamed himself for Ironhide's death. Sentinel's betrayal had ended hundreds of human and Autobot lives, had nearly ended millions more, but it had started with one of Optimus' oldest and closest friends and the ache of that loss would linger for decades to come. He should not have trusted in Sentinel so easily, even if he was far from the only Autobot to be swept up in the excitement of a leader they had thought dead returning to them almost unharmed.
Regrets would not change the existing situation, and they would not give him back his friend or Ratchet his partner. All they could do was ensure he would not make the same mistakes again.
Ratchet had thrown himself into his work and Optimus wished he could leave Ratchet to mourn in peace; unfortunately, even if an arm was easily enough reattached, perfecting the reconnection took time. There were wires in need of threading back into place and broken connections that required welding shut, which meant regular visits.
Optimus was not the only one to think he was responsible for Ironhide's death, and as a result the tension between Ratchet and himself was thick enough to ensure they were always left alone for their check-ups. When he first approached Ratchet he had made the mistake of apologising; Ratchet's reaction had been cold, Optimus' apology rejected in an instant and the reason why made clear just as quickly. Ironhide would not have wanted anyone to say sorry over him, and Ratchet was not ready to forgive anyone who tried to.
Optimus did not wish to hurt Ratchet further by accident and kept quiet on the subject after that until their sessions were nearing an end. When his arm was close to fully healed, his new scars well earned, Optimus knew he had to take what time they did have left to ensure the rift between them would not grow into something worse.
As Ratchet inspected his shoulder, Optimus caught his hand and gripped it gently, held back the apology he wanted to make and voiced a different truth.
The bond between Ironhide and Ratchet had been no secret, their bickering in public a constant source of levity and their ability to balance their responsibilities with their connection worthy of respect. Having fought alongside Ironhide for many years, Optimus had been present for several of his friend's more contemplative moments and was well aware Ironhide felt he had "lucked out" with Ratchet.
"He knew you loved him."
Optimus waited for an answer, but it did not come quickly; Ratchet kept quiet as he finished his checks of Optimus' shoulder and sent him on his way, and it wasn't until their last session that Ratchet said, "He made me laugh more than anyone else."
While that was all Ratchet had to say and nothing had happened to fully clear the air between them, Optimus felt a shift in the atmosphere as he left the room. He knew it would be some time yet before he would see forgiveness in Ratchet's eyes, and that he would likely never find words to ask for that forgiveness, but even one step in the right direction was still a step.
After Bumblebee saw Que executed in front of him and came close to suffering the same fate, most of the other Autobots had started behaving excessively affectionately towards him, telling him what he meant to them and what their favourite memories of him were. It was a thoughtless sort of kindness, and while he understood where it came from - he had broadcasted his fear and his love for his comrades loud and clear when thinking he truly was about to die - it had left him feeling a little as if he was attending his own memorial.
Ratchet had been far less dramatic about Bumblebee's brush with death for obvious reasons, and Bumblebee was thankful for it; it wasn't so strange that he should want to find a way of showing that thanks.
Ratchet had said nothing about Ironhide's death while keeping Bumblebee under his wing, and it worried Bumblebee that his friend seemed unable to mourn his partner even when granted enough time without work to do it in peace. Bumblebee wasn't the smartest of the Autobots but he was bright enough, and felt safe in drawing his own conclusions about Ratchet's actions.
Ratchet needed company if he was to mourn Ironhide and he was too stubborn to ask for it.
Bumblebee knew offering a bond under the circumstances was unusual, but he wanted to give Ratchet the means to grieve Ironhide's passing with him. Ratchet was as hesitant at first in accepting the bond as Bumblebee was in offering it, but with Bumblebee's voice still recovering and other methods of communication too impersonal, it seemed the best way.
They had bonded on other occasions for different reasons, better reasons - as comfort when repairing damage, as entertainment when bored, on occasion as something more intimate though Ironhide had always been Ratchet's primary love.
Ratchet seized up after making the connection, his defences up and his systems tense, so Bumblebee pushed as gently as he could with a memory of another, happier time. There were many he could choose from, but the first to come to mind was a moment between battles on Earth when he had been present for a game of Ironhide's design. Ratchet had stood in the middle of a field of wheat blasting patterns into the crop, while Ironhide awarded points for symmetry and accuracy. Bumblebee kept score, suggesting Ironhide should make himself an award if Ratchet scored enough points, and had been the first to laugh when Optimus told them off for being wasteful afterwards. None of them had listened, and in all honesty, Bumblebee didn't think Optimus had expected them to.
Ratchet's response to the memory was no more than white noise at first, keening and quiet, his grip on Bumblebee's thigh tensing. Bumblebee squeezed his friend's shoulder in return, tightened the bolt connecting the cable between them just a little to secure it. "It's okay to miss him," Bumblebee sent. "I do too."
Ratchet's barriers fell, and the pain behind them wasn't clean or pretty, but Bumblebee held the link as Ratchet allowed himself to feel the grief he had so forcefully pushed down and away. Rage at first, at Sentinel, at Optimus for trusting Sentinel, at himself for not being the one to avenge Ironhide's death. Despair, once the rage passed.
The begging was hardest to cope with. Not the begging for Ironhide back - that he could understand - but the begging to swap places with Ironhide or join him in death. Bumblebee didn't interrupt even though he wasn't completely sure his silence was the reaction Ratchet needed, waited for Ratchet to go quiet and then quieter still until there was nothing between them but the faint static of their sparks.
Ratchet's half completed message of "Why did you -" warranted a reply Bumblebee had wanted to give from the start.
"Your friends still love you. It's okay."
"It isn't," Ratchet sent back, despondent rather than snapping. "He nearly saw it end. He was so close."
Bumblebee let go of Ratchet's shoulders and wrapped both arms around him as best as possible, pulled him close despite it almost crushing the cable connecting them. "Maybe it's not okay yet, but it will be. It will be. I promise."
Ratchet fell quiet again and Bumblebee kept hold of him, occasionally flexing his grip or sending through a pulse just to remind him he wasn't alone, but nothing more. Ratchet needed someone who would listen to him, not someone who talked. More than anything he needed rest, and Bumblebee was willing to keep him company while he got it.
One night wasn't enough to make everything right, but it seemed enough to persuade Ratchet he was allowed to continue mourning in his own way. There were good days and bad days, and occasionally outright terrible days, but as time passed Bumblebee saw his friend recover. As they tracked down the remaining Decepticons, mostly dissidents and cowards who had not turned up to Megatron's last stand, Ratchet's behaviour became more familiar; while at first he was as aggressive as Sideswipe, he gradually returned to his more diplomatic self. The Decepticons directly responsible for Ironhide's murder were already dead, and Ratchet was still a healer at heart above all else.
When Ratchet cuffed Bumblebee after catching him tidying up the medical bay and said, "I thought I was the one supposed to be looking after you?", Bumblebee finally felt he could stop keeping watch. It was even more of a relief when the day came that he bonded with Ratchet and found his friend's spark settled; Ratchet's barriers were back up, but they didn't feel strained or rigid anymore. They felt like they were there by choice rather than necessity, and there were memories of Ironhide left open for viewing instead of being shut away as though the very fact Ironhide had once lived was painful.
With time the others had also started taking Bumblebee's continued existence for granted again, and though perhaps he should have felt a little sad at that, he couldn't help but feel grateful. It was good to fit in again, to have others pay attention to him when he sought it instead of every moment of every day.
The world was always going to be changing, in some ways to improve, in others to worsen, but their war was over in every way that counted now. They had a place to call home that they had successfully protected, and they had earned their rest. Ironhide's death before he could rest with them was a weight they all carried, but not an unbearable one. They had the support of each other.
And if Ratchet could move on from that death to enjoy the life he'd made for himself on Earth, then so could everyone else.