TITLE:
Grudge
SERIES: Imperfection, part 10
AUTHOR: Macx
RATING: PG-13
DISCLAIMER: None of the characters belong to me, sadly. They are owned
by
people with a lot more money
Author’s Voice of Warning (aka Author’s Note):
English is not my first language; it’s German. This is the best I can
do.
Any mistakes you find in here, collect them and you might win a prize
FEEDBACK: Loved
The Decepticon was a thorn in his optics. Barricade’s presence was a
danger to everyone, especially the humans, and though Will had argued
Ironhide
was behaving like an overprotective mother-hen, the weapons specialist
couldn’t be swayed from his vigil.
Barricade had been the enemy and still was. He was a Decepticon, right
down to
his core programming, and he would never change his ways. That Jazz and
he
shared sparks, something sacred and intimate to Cybertronians, didn’t
mean anything. It could be just another plan to get them to drop their
guard
and be vulnerable.
As the months passed Ironhide started to develop a grudging respect for
the
Decepticon. He had respected him before as a warrior on the battle
field. Barricade
was tough; hard to kill, tenacious and vicious when fighting the enemy
–
the Autobots. He had killed many and he had seriously wounded even
more, but he
had never slaughtered out of the satisfaction it gave him. His victims
had been
out to kill him and it had been defense.
Still… he was a Decepticon.
“I don’t care if Jazz thinks he’s his other half, Prime! He’s
a slagging ‘Con!”
“To share is the ultimate trust between two of our kind, Ironhide,”
Optimus replied calmly. “Do you think Barricade would open himself up
to
someone if that put him into danger?”
“Maybe he got something on Jazz,” Ironhide muttered angrily.
“I’ve known about their sharing since before the war,”
Optimus told him. “There is nothing.”
“What?!” the other mechanoid blurted.
“You knew?!”
“Yes.”
Ironhide stared at him. Optimus refused to add to his confirmation.
“So you trust him not to betray us?”
“Yes.”
Again, no further explanation.
Ironhide flexed his fingers, curling them into fists.
“I don’t trust him. I never will.”
Optimus inclined his head. “That is your right.“
Ironhide had left it at that. You couldn’t argue with Prime when it
came
to such things. Maybe Optimus was too idealistic this way.
Still, sharing sparks… Ironhide knew that there was no faking it. If
Jazz’s claim was true that Barricade’s spark had the same
resonance, then the Decepticon was what humans called a soul mate to
the silver
Autobot.
Great. Fucking great.
Ironhide sighed at the thought. He was picking up bad habits from
°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°
That Barricade saved Sam a few weeks later, brought him back to
Bumblebee safe
and sound, though a little shaken and thoroughly drenched, didn’t help
with Ironhide’s dark thoughts. Add to that the revelation four months
later that he had found the instigator of the attack and had ruined him
with
well-placed allegations and forged reports, and Ironhide didn’t really
know what to think.
Barricade didn’t gain anything from helping Sam. The young human was
still
freaked out by him. Barricade hadn’t tried to get into the Autobot base
before and he hadn’t tried it ever since the rescue. Or after his
little
campaign against Trent DeMarco.
Jazz had just shrugged and had claimed Barricade had been bored.
Bored! Ironhide would have laughed if he hadn’t been gaping at the
Autobots’ second in command.
It was the sparring session a few weeks after that had Ironhide look at
the
Decepticon more closely. He had met the smaller mech
in battle before and he knew how deadly he was. For Barricade to fight
Jazz and
both to come out looking like roadkill, it
must have
been a really bad argument. Having Barricade in the base, actually
recharging
in the base, didn’t sit well with the weapons specialist, but he
didn’t fight Prime on it. Mainly because Ratchet had told him to stuff
it
and act like a grown bot, not like some
whiny
mechanoid fresh off the assembly line.
Ironhide caught Jazz right after recharge and from the wary expression
on the
First Lieutenant’s face, he was expecting the worst.
“What happened for real?” Ironhide asked calmly.
He had no idea where Barricade was, if he was still recharging or had
disappeared or was skulking around the base, but right now he wanted
the truth
out of Jazz.
“It was just a sparring,” the silver Autobot evaded a direct
answer.
“You can give that crap to Prime and get away with it as long as he
doesn’t catch you alone, too,” Ironhide rumbled. “But I know
this was more. What did he say?”
The blue optics dimmed. “The truth.”
“That being…?”
Jazz sighed. “I lost my edge. I got soft, Ironhide. It was what killed
me.”
The last words sounded painful. Ironhide felt compassion rise.
“You didn’t get soft, Jazz. You’re still a warrior. Hells,
Megatron almost beat Prime to a pulp. Sam had to save him. Do you see
him
moping around and getting his ass slagged?”
Jazz chuckled. “I know, I know. But when Barricade told me I had lost
my
edge, I wanted to prove to him that I hadn’t. I could still beat him
with
an arm tied behind my back.”
“That Con is one mean fighter, kid. Fast, furious and sneaky. You’d
need more than your hands to even slow him down.”
“Did you just compliment Barricade?” Jazz teased.
He groaned. “No! Where is the heap of junk anyway?”
“Left recharge early. I think he snuck out
to
finish somewhere he feels safer.”
Ironhide ignored the pointed look. “He provoked you and you let
yourself
go, is that it?”
Another shrug. “Kinda.
I think he wanted that. See me fight like that. Without
any
restraints. It was like before the war, when we were just…” He
stopped. “Well, a long time ago,” Jazz murmured.
The much larger mech studied his friend.
“How
long before the war did you know him?” he finally asked.
“Long enough. Ironhide, there’s nothing
false about him defecting, about what we share. Why can’t you accept
it?”
“Because a Con will always stay a Con.”
“And I’ll always be an Autobot. We’re different, but
we share something that can’t be swayed to be Decepticon or Autobot.
The
insignia on the outside doesn’t change the connection.”
Ironhide regarded the other silently, then
nodded. “Still
don’t trust him. Never will.”
“I’m not asking you to. Just lay off the death threats.”
“Now where’s the fun in that then?” Ironhide chuckled.
Jazz smiled dimly. “It would at least let him recharge a little
more.”
“Noted.”
They had arrived at the hangar entrance.
“Okay, I’ll cut him some slack,” Ironhide said. “But
don’t think I won’t keep a very close eye on him if he ever shows
up here again.”
“It wouldn’t be you if you didn’t,” Jazz replied.
“Thanks.”
“Don’t thank me yet. I still believe this is gonna
backfire on us.”
“It hasn’t in all the millennia we were on different sides,”
was the calm reply.
Jazz transformed and started his engine. He drove out into the dawn, the sun still at least thirty minutes from
rising, and
Ironhide watched him. There was no trace of Barricade, but Jazz would
find him.
The weapons specialist went back into the base, deep in thought.
Barricade was
and would always be a Decepticon in his eyes. That would never change.
Still,
he had to give it to the guy, he had started to change.
°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°
Barricade stretched like a large cat, his spark expanding and
contracting, then
settling next to the one that pulsed softly.
::You didn’t have to leave:: Jazz murmured
lazily.
But he had had to. He could relax more in the middle of his former
comrades,
knowing they would more likely kill him than Ironhide ever threatened
he might,
than stay at the Autobot base.
::You’re still not fully recharged::
He knew that. Sixty percent was rather low. He could fight with less,
but it
wasn’t advisable.
::’Cade?::
He acknowledged the other with a soft grunt.
Jazz flowed closer. He had met up with Barricade behind some old
warehouses and
was as close as he could physically get. Their sparks were even closer.
Right
now they were almost meshed together.
::I appreciate what you do:: Jazz murmured.
::I do nothing::
Jazz sent a smile. ::Yeah::
Barricade couldn’t help sliding deeper into the sharing. It was the
most
relaxing, safest and calmest experience he knew. It was complete
freedom. No
wariness, no guards up, no expectation of
pain or
violence or betrayal. Jazz embraced him, held him, and he felt his
physical
body lock in recharge mode.
°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°
Jazz watched his companion as Barricade dropped into recharge stasis,
trusting
him.
Trusting him. He smiled. He would never
betray that
trust. And maybe Barricade would learn that he was safe within the
base, too.
One day.