Translation: Never Forget

Bit of a sequel to Aeternum Vale. We all know everyone grieves differently. So I thought: what was this mech thinking after the death of Ironhide? This is another one of my favourite bots, and I have a great feeling he's not taking it very well. This takes place two months after DOTM and the funeral. I had help from a friend to help me translate Mirage's/Dino's Italian words since I wanted to get Mirage's words just right. Yes, I'm calling him Mirage because that is who he was supposed to be, not named after an Italian human's nickname. It's silly. If you get confused about what he says, there are translations on the bottom.

It's been over two months since the Battle in Chicago. Two months since the funeral and I had heard my commander's screams of agony. Two months since I had replaced... No, replace is too strong of a word to sum up the situation I am in right now. Merely I have been handpicked by Optimus Prime to be his second in command – or rather as he and I like to put it – I had been given the title and rank due to my experience as a front-liner and I had once been one of my mentor's best students since the middle of the war. However, I could not believe that my mentor was well and truly gone from this world.

I hadn't been present when Sentinel had betrayed us, but I had arrived on the scene shortly after Optimus had as soon as I heard Ratchet's open channel of Ironhide's demise. I admit it I was almost as shocked as my commander was. The sparkbreak I felt as soon as I saw of what remained of him had shaken me completely. Even as I has had kneeled beside his corpse of Ironhide and gently touched what the corrosive cosmic rust hadn't touched, I knew that deep down my mentor was no more.

I can still recall what his final words were when I last saw him.

"Class dismissed."

He and I worked together and took down those Dreads in a matter of seconds.

That little Mexican standoff brought me memories of long ago when Ironhide had first taken me underneath his wing and started training me until I was as good a fighter as he was. Though perhaps not as well equipped in weapons like him, but maybe I was almost as deadly in melee combat. It had been an honour fighting alongside my mentor again, but I just wished that I had been there to perhaps stop Sentinel from pulling the trigger on my teacher...

And even as I stand here in our newly repaired base and look upon our new training facility, I know that every bit of it reminded me of Ironhide. The old mech often sparred with me until our sparks were content or until we exhausted our recharge systems. And even when I was feeling down, I came in here to beat the living slag out of a drone.

Now these days... I feel like I'm slowly losing myself.

The death of Ironhide had forced Optimus to pick me to be his second in command and now I feel like my processor is dissolving just like Ironhide's body. Dissolving into nothing and being weighed heavily down by the strange, new burdens that I had been charged with.

My shoulders sag.

I'm not worthy to have such a title. Ironhide was a lot better at it than me. Even though I had accepted Optimus's request, I somehow get the feeling that I'm regretting that acceptance. At first it seemed like a good idea to me, but... now I understand why Ironhide liked to often beat up a couple of drones during the past three years since the defeat of The Fallen. He had been weighed down by his burdens, but never let anyone see that except for me. He had tried to hide it from me, but I saw it in his optics when he first asked me if I'd like to spar with him.

And as I look at the drone that stands before me, emotionless and lifeless just like my response, then I know that I cannot do what Optimus requested of me.

In my inner anger and frustration, I charge at the drone so fast that my blades slide out from my wrist and I slice at it, but it moves out of the way with lightning fast reactions. I miss it by a centimetre, but I kick out at it with one of my wheeled feet, balancing myself with ease on the other foot, and sending the drone crashing into a wall behind it.

I watch it get up with bloodlust satisfaction, its body bleeding from where the metal had cut into it. However, its response was exactly how I was feeling on the inside. While it cannot display any emotion, it still charged at me without any warning. Its hands wrapped around my frame, lifted me up above its head and tossed me like a ragdoll.

I just lay there, dazed, but unhurt.

It was as if the fight in me and the warrior within had been torn out the day Ironhide had been murdered and the day Optimus gave me my mentor's title. I just didn't know what to do anymore. I let my grief consume my spark and I allowed the drone to beat me by kicking me in the sides. I didn't fight back, and I didn't even bother to lift a servo to defend myself. All I did was cry out in agony as my warrior instincts left my processor.

And then, just as suddenly as the pain came, it was gone.

My optics turned themselves online and I saw Mirage standing over me, a blade sticking through the chest of the drone. The drone collapsed to one side, it's optics flickering for a brief moment before they went offline as its life was taken away, just as Ironhide's had been.

I didn't get up. I just don't have the strength to fight on anymore.

My mentor was gone, I had been given his title, and now my grief had taken over.

Mirage bent over me, offering his hand for me to take. "Up on your feet, amico," he said sternly, but not unkindly.

"I can't," I answered pathetically, looking at the ground in shame. "I don't know what to do anymore."

Mirage stood back, looking at me with concern. He had been my friend since the day he had arrived on Earth. He was a master at stealth while I was the master of combat. We didn't get along at first, but ever since he had saved my life two years ago, we have been best friends since.

"Sei una testa dura," Mirage grumbled.

I blinked up at him in confusion. "What did you call me?" I demanded angrily.

"A blockhead," Mirage answered. "You're being stubborn."

"I'm not!" I snapped, getting to my feet and swinging one of my blades at him. But Mirage nimbly dodged it and shook his head at me. I didn't realise that one of my hands was dripping energon until I noticed that a sharp piece of metal had wedged its way into my hand. I didn't even feel the pain up until now.

I stopped dead in my tracks and felt something prickle in the corner of my optics. I shook my head again as Mirage waited for me to move forward again, but I didn't. I just stood there, leaking energon on the floor and staring at my injured palm. My hand tightened itself into a fist, my anger reaching its boiling point.

"Why!" I suddenly screamed at the ceiling. "Why me?"

My dear friend took that as his cue to move towards me as the prickling sensation continued to hurt my optics. From his subspace pocket, he pulled out a small container and kneeled at my feet. He gestured to me to sit down and I obliged, feeling too confused and lost to be my stubborn self. He opened the container up and pulled out what appeared to be Transformer sized tweezers, a cloth and a small packet of healing jelly.

"Give me your hand," he said gently.

I did so, offering my injured hand to him. He carefully took a hold of it, his blades moving out of the way as he used the tweezers to remove the sharp piece of metal. It stung like hell and I hissed, spitting out a Cybertronian curse word. Mirage just laughed at me and started wiping my hand with the cloth, removing the energon, and then he dipped the cloth into the packet of jelly and gave me a hard look.

"I warn you, amico," he said in his thick Italian accent, "sarà doloroso."

"What?"I asked, not understanding what he meant.

But before I could get an answer, Mirage pressed the cloth against my injured hand and I howled in pain. It was a good feeling though, even though I was prepared for it, it still stung like Pit. I had experienced small injuries before during my training and Ironhide had used what limited skills he had to fix me up by applying the stinging jelly on me.

"There," Mirage said in a satisfying tone. "All done."

I looked at my hand where he had wrapped it up in some kind of thick metallic cloth, one that I hadn't seen before up until now. But that wasn't what was on my processor. The memories of Ironhide leaving our lives haunted me, never too far away. I glanced away from my friend and looked at the ground, feeling ashamed for screaming like a hatchling.

As if he sensed my regret, Mirage placed a hand upon my shoulder, giving me a reassuring squeeze. "It's understandable," he said. "We all know how much he meant to you."

I didn't respond, refusing to answer and reverting back to my stubborn self. I didn't feel like talking. The pain was almost too much to bear, but I held it in. I had to. I didn't want my friend to see how weak I was. Ironhide had taught me to never show weakness, even in the face of friends and enemies. But he also said that my upbringing was my greatest strength and weakness. How could I tell my friend that I was all messed up on the inside? How can I tell him when all I'm doing is replacing our greatest warrior to have ever existed?

"I know what you're thinking," Mirage said. "So come ti senti."

I frowned. "How would you know?" I growled, ignoring his second sentence, as I stood up and looked down upon him, my spark pulsing with fury. "How can you expect to know what I'm thinking?"

"Because I feel the same way about it too," Mirage snapped back, getting to his feet and pushing his face into mine. I backed away to give myself personal space, feeling invaded. "Primus, I was there when you and I arrived shortly after Optimus did! I felt the same kind of sparkache you did when I saw the body of Ironhide laying there on the ground. Do you know how I felt when I saw him lying there?"

I shook my head, not answering.

"Distrutto."

I quickly searched the word up until I realised what he meant. He had been just as hurt as I was. I had forgotten that, like me, Mirage had been trained by Ironhide to fight. But he had been taught by someone else the value of stealth. However, he never talked about who it was, but I can guess that it was someone he was once very close to. I had tried researching his background, but all I got was that had also been bred by the Allspark during the war. That was all I knew of him. He never spoke about his past, and neither did I. We became friends because of how much we loved the thrill of battle. It was what drove us to fight.

I chewed my bottom lip and looked away again.

We were both hurting. My other friends were also hurting. Ratchet had already come to accept that his close friend was gone, Optimus had kept himself together until the funeral, Bumblebee consoled himself by being with his human charges, and the Wreckers just raced until their sparks were content. Everyone seemed to find a way to handle their grief.

"I'm an aft," I groaned.

"No," Mirage laughed. "You're a scemo."

I had to laugh. Mirage certainly knew how to make me feel better.

Mirage laughed too.

When we both settled down, I sighed, "Thank you, my friend."

Mirage nodded as he put the medical kit away, storing it back into his subspace pocket. He then turned to face me and smiled a rare smile. He then stood in a stance and I laughed again, blinking away tears of regret and sadness. Mirage was doing his best to distract me from my grief, this I knew that much. And what better way to do that than a little spar.

And so we sparred.

And as our blades clashed and my grief seemed to sink away into the back of my processor, I knew that my friendship with Mirage was something special. I hadn't felt this excitement since I had sparred with Ironhide. Like Ironhide and myself, Mirage and I were quite competitive. We always quarrelled over who got what kill and who had the most kills. It was our way of saying how much our friendship meant to the other.

Even though I was now second in command and would be ordering Mirage about in the future, I had the feeling that we made a pretty good team when we were together.

And as we stopped to take a break, my insides now burning with a new fire that refused to be quenched, I wondered if we truly were at peace. I glanced at my friend beside me, his bright blue optics twinkling with excitement. He was just as pumped as I was from all that sparring.

"Thank you for the distraction," I tell him as we sit down to let our systems cool down.

"Remember this, fratello," he said seriously as he looked into my optics, "mai dimenticare."

"What does that mean?" I asked.

"Never forget."

Amico = male friend
Sei una testa dura = You are a blockhead
Sara doloroso = It will be painful
So come ti senti = I know how you feel
Distrutto = Destroyed
Scemo = Idiot
Fratello = Brother
Mai dimenticare = Never Forget

Hope you like it!