Unforeseen

Chapter 7

I don't own Transformers, only my OC's.

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Chapter 7

It had been two days since Lucas and I had seen those giant robots fighting in the park. Their battle should have caught at least some attention. They had made quite a racked and there had to have been substantial damage done to the forest. But there was not a single snippet of news to be found on it. We had looked. Thoroughly.

I could not bring myself to tell my aunt or uncle about it. I was sure the news would be helpful to the military, but I was afraid uncle Will would never let me out of his sights if I did. My one consoling thought was that perhaps the military did know. They could cover up anything if they wanted to. Perhaps that explained the lack of reports.

Besides, who would believe two teenagers claiming to have seen giant robots? I think they'd have me thrown in a psychiatric ward, especially given what I had been through this summer.

At least some things were returning to normal. I patted the black truck I was leaning against. He'd been gone for two days. It had been rather lonely without him. Though he had gained a few dents since I'd last seen him.

My cast and sling had been retired too. I stretched by newly freed arm out in front of me. It felt good having it back, but it would be a while still before it fully functional. I had to build the muscles back up after weeks of uselessness.

"Shouldn't you be in bed kid," my head snapped towards the flank of the truck. Ron was leaning against it, arms folded and eyes turned skyward.

I had not seen him in two days either. "Why are you here?" There were some things I could have done without returning. I rather doubted he lived anywhere around here.

An awkward silence settled in around us.

I looked down at the ground, uneasy. If he ever hurt you he'd find himself drawn and quartered, my uncles voice sounded in my head. I wrapped my arms around my knees.

Ron sighed and looked over me, "I'm not going to hurt you kid."

A mute nod was all I could offer before resting my cheek on my knees, allowing me to look, somewhat discreetly, in the opposite direction.

Time passed by us. I'm not sure how long.

"Hey," I finally decided to talk, "how's your no-" I looked up to find him gone "-se"

I smacked my head against the truck. "Idiot," I chided myself, repeating the action a few times. It earned me a head ache.

"I'm officially an ass."

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At the toy shop the next day I related my story to Lucas.

"Look," he said, "it sounds like he's something of a jerk himself. So don't beat yourself up over it. Besides," he picked up a toy motor, "how often do you actually see him?"

I had to admit, he had a point.

Strewn before us were an array of pieces and parts. We may have lost our first RC, but we were determined to build Little Ironhide II better than its predecessor. The test run had given us some rather nice feedback and, while we both wished the truck had not been destroyed, it at least gave us a chance to start anew.

We weren't building just one this time either. I looked at the body mold we had been tinkering with. I wanted Little Ironhide, but Lucas wanted to have one of his own. He was more into the sport cars, so this one was being modeled after an Aston Martin V12 Vantage.

"Where do you intend to put the cannon?" I asked as I looked over a few snapshots the car.

"Roof?"

"Could work I suppose," I traced the sleek design with my finger, trying to imagine it in a three dimensional form. It wouldn't be as arrow dynamic, but it would offer fairly good steering as far as the camera placement went.

"All right you two," our queue to pack up came as Lucas's father walked by.

"I'll bring them into school tomorrow. We can use the labs during study hall."

I nodded. "Sounds good."

I grabbed my backpack and headed for the front door. I would have to attack my homework as soon as I got home, there was just too much of it to do otherwise. I swear, sometimes I think teachers get together and scheduled death days for their students. What else was I supposed to think when I had homework and tests to study for in almost every class?

My fingers curled around the handle of the truck's door.

"No complaints this time?"

I flung the door open, but Ron caught it well before it had a chance to clock him.

"You like inflicting damage, don't you."

I groaned. "If you don't sneak up me, you won't get wacked."

He snorted. "And they call me trigger happy."

"I don't play with guns."

Ron shook his head with an exasperated expression. "Get in." A few strands of my hair got caught in the door as he shut it roughly. I thought better of complaining.

The ride was a silent and awkward. I knew last night's events were playing on my mind and, judging by his silence, I figured they must be on his as well. Or maybe he just hated me and didn't want to talk. Either way I couldn't be mad at him for it. It seemed every time we met there was some kind of argument.

I looked over at him. He was watching the road with boredom, hands resting loosely on the steering wheel. His tanned skin looked far healthier than my own, which had been growing pale with the amount of time I spent indoors. His eyes, I realized, were not just blue, but an elegant aquamarine.

Does he wear contacts? I wondered. I wasn't about to ask.

My eyes shifted down to his nose. It certainly didn't look broken, just has uncle Will had told me. There wasn't even the faintest hint of a bruise.

Ron's eyes flickered towards me, a frown settling upon his lips.

"S-sorry," I stampeded. I must have been staring for longer than I thought. "I just… how is your nose?"

"Intact." His voice was flat.

I bit my lip. He must still be angry about it. "I'm sorry… for hitting you."

He grunted. "It was weak punch anyway."

Heat rose into my cheeks, "it put you across the room." I don't know why I was biting back.

"Surprised me is all."

"Is that you were acting like I'd broken it?"

He gave me an amused look. "You would have broken your hand long before my nose."

"What's your nose made of, titanium?"

"As a matter of fact, it's made of trithyllium steel."

The strangest look must have struck my face because Ron chuckled. I couldn't it, I laughed myself. So the guy did have a sense of humor.

Gravel crunched beneath the tires as we pulled into my uncle's driveway. "Thanks for the ride."

"Welcome."

I smiled as I climbed out and shut the door. Maybe there really was a nice guy under that gruff exterior.

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Please Review.

And so a spark appears. Can it be fanned into a flame?

To anyone who's wondering, apparently trithyllium steel is an impeccably strong alloy on Cybertron. To my knowledge, Ironhide is the only transformer with it. All of his bio's say it makes him "nearly invulnerable to attack", which explains why in the first movie he received next to no damage but Bumblebee had his legs blown off.