Ironhide hated Earthlings. He hated the planet as a whole -- the organic life and lack of advanced metals were not something he was fond of from the beginning.

But the Earthlings -- Ironhide disliked them more than anything else. They were pompous and rude and believed themselves to be superior than everyone else. Ironhide wished he could show them just how inferior they were. (Optimus will not allow him to. A pity.)

Being on this wretched planet, deserted without any means of contacting any Autobots that could need refuge, had to be the worst thing Ironhide has faced. And he's faced obstacles where a whole squadron of comrades perished, where black holes threatened to suck him into oblivion.

Eleanor Cambridge, though. She was the biggest obstacle that Ironhide has ever encountered. She was brash, angry, impolite -- a right menace to everyone around her.

Yet, she had the guts of a thousand soldiers. Her eyes were set, hardened like those gems earth held. Emeralds, the humans called them. They reminded Ironhide of the eyes of fallen Cybertronians, illuminatingly bright and cold.

Only days after their meeting, Ironhide figured out she had seen death too early. She had faced turmoil and knew the sorrow of losing a comrade and loved one. She knew what it was like to stare death in the eyes and come back from it. She had seen the darkness, swam in the shadows of it only to come back into the light, scarred and broken, a mangled version of the human she once was.

Ironhide understood better than any creature what it was like to see death.

He knew that coming back from traumatic experiences could take some time. Ironhide was not dense, and he understood that someone of her age -- someone who had no experience with the pain of losing someone -- was bound to recover achingly slow.

He knew what she felt was survivor's guilt. The frown always etched on her face was due to the fact that she came out of the experience almost unscathed whilst her brother took the damage. He understood it all too well. Jazz had offlined not too long ago.

And this should aid him in understanding this fleshing better. Ironhide should understand that caution was required when dealing with her -- Colonel Cambridge informed him not to be too testy around her. (Whatever. Ironhide stopped asking questions when Optimus made him go back to their houses after meeting the blasted femme. He figured nothing he argued would matter now.)

But, for some unnatural reason, everything the femme did set Ironhide off. She was so cold to him, seemed to hate him for a reason unbeknownst to him. It was not as though he was fond of her, either, but if Colonel Cambridge expected him to sit back whilst she dissed (as the humans liked to call it) his name, he had certainly lost some sort of sanity.

He was prepared for the punishment he would face later at the base. Optimus would probably throw him through a metal grinder for a couple hours, but Ironhide could not help the rage that boiled through his processors when Eleanor stood in front of him, mocking and condescending.

"The truck is superior to everyone else's," Ironhide snapped. He glared at Eleanor. Oh, how he wished he could demonstrate the strength he had. "None of those petty fleshlings would stand a chance against it -- in battle or anything else in between."

Colonel Cambridge and Major Lennox were glaring at Ironhide, but he was relentless. For days, he had taken this insolent child's snarks and barks and said nothing more about the matter. He never once acted malicious, never spoke out against her unless she truly deserved it. But for her to come for him, his very being, is a chip at his pride, and Ironhide will not silence himself this time.

However, this time Ironhide's rage was not taken seriously. His threat towards Eleanor keying his alternate form was very real and serious, yet the human only quirked a smile and ran outside.

When she dragged the metallic key against the bed of his alternate form, Ironhide wanted to transform right there -- to give her a taste of just how strong he was. The rage bubbled deep inside of him, a rage that was always present, but showed itself on special occasions. He hated this femme, and he wanted to show just exactly how much he did.

But then -- she walked up to him, and there was mischief in her usually dead earthen eyes. They were alive with something, and Ron had never met a human with such a fire inside of them.

He was surprised.

"You -- you keyed it," he said, breathed out. His processors couldn't handle this. He needed a break. "You insolent child, Have you no will to live?"

And he meant it. His words were true enough. Perhaps this human really did not have a will to be alive anymore. A part of her family has been disconnected from her through death. Maybe she wanted Ironhide to indeed show her what suffering was. The way she spoke back to him, when she told him she cared not if he threatened her or harmed her, proved just how little she cared for her well-being.

Then, after a moment passed, he processed it. He understood. The fire was burning bright, searing through an entire forest. For the first time in awhile, this human girl felt healed; she felt normal after being treated like a patient for the past months. She had tasted death and was constantly living with it due to everyone around her carrying it on their shoulders like shadows. She needed freedom -- air.

Softly, Ironhide said, "You are a strange human, indeed, Eleanor Cambridge."

Her grin looked like a battle cry.

Ironhide didn't buff the scratch out.