Chapter Text
“I want it on the record that I didn’t agree to you joining this mission.”
Ratchet looked up from adjusting the release cap on his sawblades. He didn’t like the wobble he felt at its highest setting.
“This may be just a recon mission, but this is the closest we’ve ever been to the Con’s current front line.”
“I’ve seen my share of horrors, Ironhide. Held mangled frames in my arms and been elbow-deep in energon trying to reconstruct chest cavities from the inside out. If you’re about to say I’m not hardened enough to be out here, then you can stow it.”
“Though I would’ve preferred Optimus assign me another soldier, that’s not the point I was trying to make.” Ironhide cast a cautionary glance out at the battle-scarred plains that stretched endlessly from their refuge, scrap churned up from Cybertron’s very surface to form a cave-like hideaway. He moved slowly across the entrance, dipping into shadows to throw off any sniper that may be watching. He came to sit at Ratchet’s side. “We can’t risk losing any more fighters, yes, but we’ve already lost so many medics to Megatron, be they casualties or kidnapped. I don’t want to risk one more.” Ironhide placed a hand on Ratchet’s knee. I don’t want to lose you.
Ratchet allowed himself this brief moment of intimacy and overlaid Ironhide’s hand with his own. Ironhide turned his palm over and twined their fingers together. Ratchet looked back at the small cadre of warriors, wondering if any had caught the act and were grinning or about to issue a snarky comment, but no one paid them the least attention. Some of the soldiers had fallen asleep or simply stared at the broken metal around them, content to conserve what little energy they had.
“Ironhide, I don’t wish to die, either. I rather relish the idea of growing old,” Ratchet gave a soft laugh. He met Ironhide’s eyes and in them the old soldier saw the same light he had fallen in love with, a hope and fire this war hadn’t quashed. “But if I died protecting someone, be it a young soldier on the other side of the planet, or you beside me, I’ll know that’s one more life that hopefully sees the end of this war.”
Their gazes lingered a while longer, when Ironhide saw the medic’s optic ridge twitch. Ratchet heard it first, his audio sensors tuned to their highest sensitivity. The high-pitched shriek of an incoming missile. Ironhide was shouting to his soldiers then found himself being shoved on the ground, Ratchet’s body covering his. He didn’t register much before the impact, searing heat and pain engulfing him, but he knew at some point Ratchet had grabbed his hand and squeezed. Tight.