Chapter 2

"Give me my wrench," Ratchet ordered, and Ironhide started from his resting position on the wall, looking at the medic incredulously.

"Now," Ratchet growled, and a shudder ran through Ironhide's frame. This was why Ratchet was feared amongst all of the crew members. He was somehow able to produce a menacing tone that could shake the hardest of mechs right down to their very core. His death glare was pretty potent, too. Ironhide wasn't sure which was worse, and was glad that the medic wasn't looking in his direction.

"Slag it, are you trying to kill Hound? Give me the wrench now!" Ratchet finally turned from his work to glare at Ironhide. Knocked back to his senses both from fear for Hound's life as well as the force of Ratchet's glare, Ironhide scuttled to grab the wrench and, without thinking, tossed it to Ratchet.

Ironhide winced even as Ratchet reached up and snatched it out of the air. To his surprise, Ratchet didn't say a word as he immediately went to work on loosening a panel in Hound's internal systems, but not before Ironhide caught a slight smirk on the medic's face.

What was the damn medic smirking about?

Running over the last few moments in his head, he groaned- internally, not wanting to disturb Ratchet- as he realised that when Ratchet had turned to glare at him, he had moved to get the wrench like some slagging youngling. The medic had damn well better not have the thing on tape. Sadistic mech.

Ironhide let a slight growl out of his throat. Without looking up, Ratchet spoke, in a sweet tone that was twice as scary as the normal, menacing one. "Problems with your vocal processor, Ironhide?" he asked. "Perhaps I should shut it down until I fix the glitch."

"Nothing's wrong," Ironhide ground out. Not for the first time, he wondered if the medic had installed some sort of mod on his vocal processor to make it so truly petrifying. He knew he hadn't been the only mech to wonder that same thing. In fact, he was pretty sure that Jazz had asked the same thing to Ratchet, only to have the medic make do on the promise that he had made vorns ago on Cybertron and dismantle the saboteur's vocal processor. He'd left the poor mech's voice untended to for a full week after that, until Optimus had ordered the medic to fix it.

Ratchet said nothing and went back to work on Hound, growling when he found that a little water had indeed seeped into Hound's spark chamber. Normally, that wouldn't happen, but apparently Hound had loosened the catch on his spark chamber as well. Probably because of the whole 'fresh air' thing. Ironhide couldn't understand the appeal of the air on Earth.

"Hold this," Ratchet said and shoved what looked like some sort of hose into the mech's arms. Surprised, Ironhide stumbled slightly, but kept his hold on the hose. As Ratchet put one end of the hose into Hound's body, it became clear that it was, in fact, some sort of heater. The thing was burning his hands and the water in Hound's body was quickly turning into steam as it evaporated. Ironhide knew that Hound's cooling systems would prevent him from overheating, but wasn't it risky to-

Ironhide hissed as the heat got to him and his processor screamed out errors. His cooling system was incredibly efficient, given that he was a soldier and would otherwise overheat in battle, but the heat at his hands was concentrated. Ratchet was holding the hose thing quite a distance away from Hound, so the heat had the time to dissipate, but he was suffering direct contact with the thing.

Ironhide just knew that the slagger of a medic had done it on purpose.

And then he would have to go back to the medic so that he could check up on his hands. Gritting his teeth, Ironhide tried to let go- Ratchet could hold the weight of the slagging thing by himself- only to find the hose was stuck to his hand.

It was slagging welded to him. Ironhide swore he could hear the medic chuckling. Ratchet was either really pissed off at him, or he was just horribly sadistic. Ironhide was pretty sure it was the latter, despite the unnaturally tense shoulders and the glint from his optics indicting otherwise.

Finally, Ratchet spoke. Ironhide was relieved. He wouldn't admit it to anyone, but a quiet pissed Ratchet was ten times scarier than a loud pissed Ratchet. Granted, what Ratchet said didn't do anything to calm his nerves.

"What on earth did you do to Hound?" Ratchet spoke quietly, something that was rather uncharacteristic of him. Ironhide frowned. "The water damage is… extensive. This couldn't have happened unless someone poured water directly into his open panels. Why were they open in the first place?"

"First, I didn't do anything," Ironhide scowled. "It was Optimus. Hound was watering the plants at Elita-One's grave, and you know how he is about fresh air and all that. His panels were open, Optimus walked in, scared Hound, and he poured the water all over himself." He sent a databurst of his memories of the situation.

Ratchet paused and looked up. "Elita-One's grave, you say?"

The rather peculiar tone of the medic made Ironhide look up sharply. The medic had an expression on his face that was frightening, to say in the least. It told Ironhide that the medic was about to do something that was in no way a good idea.

Sure enough, Ratchet looked hound over. Once he had determined that the 'bot was in no danger, he stood up. Ironhide frowned. The medic could not be thinking of what Ironhide thought he was thinking. Could he? Surely the medic wouldn't…

"I'm going to kill him," Ratchet growled, and Ironhide's hopes were shattered.

"Don't. Ratchet, Optimus is in a terrible mood and-" Ironhide began, but Ratchet fixed him with a steely glare that momentarily left his speechless. For a single, absurd moment, Ironhide wondered if Ratchet had a mod for his eyes, too. He quickly shook the thought off and gathered himself, only to find that Ratchet had already gone out into the hallways and heading towards Optimus.

Ironhide quickly hurried out of the medbay (bringing along the entire heater-hose thing with him, which was quite a sight) and into the hall, keeping a close optic on Ratchet as he stomped through the hallways. A frightened squeak came to his audio receptors and Ironhide looked down to determine the source of the noise.

It was Sam, once again, and this time he was holding a bunch of supplies. Laboratory equipment, it seemed, so chances were that he was helping Perceptor. He was absolutely petrified. As Ratchet stalked past him, the human stumbled to get out of the way despite knowing that Ratchet would never step on him, and in doing so, he stumbled. Had Ironhide not reached down with a finger to support the human, Perceptor's equipment would have been shattered.

…Not that he had been trying to protect Perceptor's equipment instead of the boy.

"Th-Thanks," Sam spoke, and Ironhide nodded in acknowledgement. He was rather distracted trying to find Ratchet again, having lost sight of the medic when he had helped Sam. Not that it really mattered; he knew the way to Elita-One's grave. If he couldn't find Ratchet, then he'd just have to go there himself. Accessing the internal map of the Ark that he had downloaded, he chose the shortest route and thundered down it, almost stepping on Epps in the process. Epps let out a string of curses, some of which Ironhide didn't even know existed, and he had access to the whole of the internet. Some of them were Cybertronian, too. Ironhide let out a quick apology, but didn't bother to stop.

When he reached Elita-One's grave, he froze. Ratchet was already there. He wasn't sure how the medic had arrived faster than him, but he was more concerned with the fact that Optimus was still there. That meant that Ratchet was about to confront Optimus. That meant that he hadn't reached Optimus in time.

Neither Optimus nor Ratchet noticed him despite the racket that he had made in entering the room; that in itself was a bad sign. The two of them almost never came to blows, and the only time Ironhide had ever known them to argue was when Optimus' decisions conflicted with the wellbeing of the mechs. That in itself happened rarely, but this time Optimus had injured another mech. Granted he hadn't done it on purpose, but this was Ratchet that they were talking about. Ratchet didn't care if you had done it on purpose or not, he only cared that it had been done.

"What in the Matrix were you thinking?!" Ratchet exploded before the Prime even had a chance to say a word. To his credit, Optimus actually looked somewhat ashamed. Then again, the only reason that Ironhide even noticed that was because of how long he had known the Prime. The shame came and went in a flash, and was almost instant replaced by Optimus' 'pissed-commander' voice.

"Do not blame me," Optimus growled. Yes, he growled. Ironhide thought that he might get Ratchet to check his audio receptors later. For now, he had to try to break up this fight before it got any worse. Somehow, though, he couldn't find it in himself to move. Ironhide was old; experienced. He had been through countless battle scenarios and built up his own instincts, and those instincts were now screaming at him to get the slag away only he knew he couldn't. "Hound's panel's were open. That's against the regulations, anyway." Optimus continued.

"Not that I'm not going to slag him later, but you're the one that scared Hound in the first place." Ratchet growled right back.

"How was I to know he would be scared just by looking at me?!"

"Maybe by looking at how everyone else reacted to you?"

"Slag it, Ratchet, I don't pay attention to every little detail!"

"Little? How the slag is everyone jumping when they look at you little?"

"I was a little preoccupied on other things, okay? Most of my processor was-"

"If you were so focused that you didn't see anything else, then-"

"I don't see-"

"You DO see, or you wouldn't h-"

"I have a right to be angry that my soldiers were car-"

"And I have a right to be angry that you nearly slagging OFFLINED ONE OF YOUR OWN SOLDIERS!"

"WILL YOU TWO JUST SHUT UP ALREADY?!" Ironhide finally snapped. Their yelling had attracted half the base to them, and they were looking at the arguing pair with a mixture of awe and fear. Of course, the moment he had yelled, the aforementioned half of the base turned their gazes to him.

The first one to speak was Optimus.

"You're one to talk!" the Prime yelled. Ironhide just stared. Optimus had never, ever lost his temper. And Ratchet was still pissed. He looked around… yep, the place was vacated. Empty. He was the only one still there, because everyone else had been scared off by the arguing 'bots. "You welded Ironhide's hands to a heat ray?! Now who's being hypocritical?!"

"I did that because he was irresponsible!" Ratchet growled right back. Ironhide, oddly enough, wasn't scared anymore. He was just pissed.

"WILL THE TWO OF YOU JUST SHUT YOUR SLAGGING MOUTHS?!" Ironhide yelled, throwing his hands up in despair causing the heat ray (it still just looked like a slagging hose) to flip upwards and hit him in the aft. Ironhide refused to react.

Of course, both Optimus and Ratchet ignored him like he didn't even exist. Technically, in their minds, he didn't, for now. He was just something else to argue over. In all the vorns of his life, he had never seen either of the mechs so angry. That might have been because no one talked back to Ratchet or Optimus when they were mad. This was the first time that the two of them were both angry, at the same time, and were arguing with each other… oh slag.

Apparently, one of the mechs who had witnessed the argument (or possibly one of the humans, given that few mechs were suicidal enough to report on Optimus or Ratchet) had reported the incident to Prowl.

Much slower than it normally would, Ironhide's processor registered three things.

The first was that Prowl was here.

The second was that prowl had placed half the mechs of the Ark in strategic locations all around Optimus and Ratchet.

The third, and most horrifying of all… Prowl was smiling.

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Author's Note: Yeah, I tried changing my writing style a little for this. I'm hoping it worked.