"You are acting like a. . . What was it that Bumblebee called them?"

"I believe the word you're looking for is a teenage girl," Chromia supplied.

Ratchet snapped his digits. "Ah! Yes! A teenage girl. Dramatic and emotional. Like Sam Witwicky. Exactly how you are acting at this moment, Ironhide!" The glee in his voice was a cover for the condescending tone underneath.

Ironhide slammed his hammer into the work table, the metal banging against steel. He did not spare either of them a glance. "Leave at once."

"No can do, big guy," Chromia wheeled herself over to him, and though she was smaller than him, she still made Ironhide feel tinier than a speck of dust. "We're here to get you out of the damn base for once. You haven't been out of your workshop since yesterday. It's Friday night. Let's go for a drive. Something. Just. Get out of here. It smells like motor oil."

A breath. Ironhide ignored the attack on his personal hygiene and brought out his blow torch, melding the two pieces together to make a new piece of armor for Sideswipe. Ratchet's big steps clanked closer to him, and Ironhide was forced to turn his helm towards the medic when Ratchet brutally swiveled him around.

"It truly does stink in here, Ironhide," Ratchet chastised. "What on Earth have you been up to?"

"Something blew up. I think." Ironhide shoved the servo off of him, turning back to his project. "I have been preparing for a battle since there is no telling when the Decepticons will return."

"It's been weeks, Ironhide," Chromia said softly. "The 'cons have been silent. They--"

"All the more reason to prepare for their return," Ironhide snapped. "Right now, they are plotting their next move and there is a possibility that it could harm the humans we are meant to protect. Primus knows what Starscream is up to. When I get my hands on him. . ."

"Oh, hush up." Ratchet smacked him on the back of the helm. Ironhide grunted in annoyance. He was tired, so tired of them, of their attempt at comfort. Of them in general. Could they not just leave him to his peace? "Don't think you're going to go off and murder Starscream as a declaration of love or something. Especially when there are others here that care for Eleanor as much as you do and would love to see Starscream burn for his words. Good grief, you truly are acting like a human girl in her teenage years."

"You are not the only one who has to deal with the problems, 'Hide," Chromia added in as though Ironhide begged for her input. In the background, there was a clink of metal hitting metal that indicated she had hit Ratchet, who groaned quietly afterwards. Ironhide smirked to himself. "We will be there to help. What you need to do now is to take a break and relax. We all care about Eleanor. We will help each other. We're a team. It's what we do."

Ironhide clenched his optics shut, pausing in his work. The craftsmanship was messy, and it looked like a sparkling made this piece of armor. He threw it to the side, sighing.

He did not like the fact that they were taking this so lightly. Granted, they were a team, and they were to let individual problems be team problems so not one 'bot had to carry the burden on their own. However, adding Eleanor into the equation along with the fact that Starscream had seemed like he didn't want to kill her but abduct her, Ironhide figured there was more weight on his shoulders than anyone else's.

Ratchet cared for the girl, Ironhide knew this, especially when he took off his afternoon to pick the female up because Ironhide and her father got caught up at base. Ratchet would certainly protect Eleanor. Chromia knew nothing of her, had never met her, but she had heard airy gossip, and she understood Ironhide's feelings, and she decided she would protect the girl. The rest of the team would go along with Optimus's orders should he demand they protect Eleanor, so it wasn't a matter of keeping her safe.

It was a matter of telling her what she needed to stay safe from.

He thought about it. What would have happened had he broken protocol and allowed everything to bleed out of his mouth the day Eleanor surrendered. Perhaps she'd have been able to meet them all as Autobots and see that there was good fighting against evil. It would have eased her conscience to know that.

Certainly, it would ease Ironhide's, too.

"I suppose some air would do me well."

When the three of them returned to base, Ironhide felt slightly better about the entire situation. Truthfully, his spark still felt as though it was blasted by an ion cannon, but the pain singed and did not burn. It was healable. Riding through the dense space of the forest with only Ratchet and Chromia's bickering to focus on was enough to take Ironhide's mind off of everything--Eleanor, Starscream--for a while.

Only when Ironhide stumbled into his hangar with a promise to the both of them that he would pull his helm out of his aft, Owen was standing in his usual post, eye level with Ironhide.

Bloodshot were the human's eyes. Ironhide automatically honed in on the saltiness of him, the way his entire body was tense and disheveled, coiled like a spring ready to shoot. The despair was almost tangible on Ironhide's glossa.

"What has happened?" Ironhide asked urgently. Almost immediately, his mind produced an image of Eleanor, of the accident. Starscream. "Is everything okay, Colonel Cambridge?"

Rather than make a joke out of it, Colonel Cambridge shook his head solemnly. "I think--I think 'Bee saved my daughter, Ironhide. And I don't know what to do about that."

Ironhide sighed, relieved and solemn all at once. He wanted to be boastful about this turn of events. He wished to rub it in Cambridge's face just how correct he had been and how wrong the human had been. Ironhide wished to be selfish and arrogant, but the devastation on Owen's face was stopping him from doing so. Afterall, this was Owen's daughter. And he was just enlightened of her memories--of the car crash.

If Ironhide took this time to ridicule and belittle the human when it was so clear that he needed comfort then he would be no better than a 'con.

Ironhide shrunk his consciousness until it fit into his holoform and then he hopped onto the platform with Owen, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Perhaps talking would help. . ."

"Yeah, yeah--that might be a fine idea, Ironhide."