A/n- Alright, I have to get this out of my head. Maybe now I'll be able to get a few of my half-done fics finished. Maybe. A slightly different take on Barricade and Ironhide's personas, this time.

x-xxx-x

-Auto-repair systems online. Processor failed to initiate. Rebooting.-

Barricade shuddered, slowly becoming aware of his surroundings. Heavy clamps were secured uncomfortably tight to his frame, and more disconcertingly, his wheels were off the ground. Attempting to transform brought him to the conclusion that whoever had secured the clamps knew exactly what they were doing, immobilizing the most important parts of his chassis and preventing him from freeing himself. He shifted a bit, then stopped as pain stabbed through his side.

-Processor online. Cortex functions optimal. Updating navigational data… GPS uplink failed. Commencing local area scan… Scan failed. Blocking field detected.-

Concrete flooring. Metal wall plating. Tables. And judging by the medical equipment, he was a prisoner in the Autobot's medbay. Barricade sighed, blowing hot exhaust.

Just his fraggin' luck.

-Analyzing status… Armor compromised. Rear suspension damaged. Left rear tire nonfunctional. Vehicle movement at 7 efficiency. Fuel system online. Frame integrity compromised. Weapon systems offline.-

Even if he could get down, escaping was out of the question. His side was mangled, one tire was shredded, his windshield was cracked, his weapons were gone, and his hood was badly dented from when he'd tried to dodge around Ironhide and had gotten backed over for his trouble.

The Autobots had been hunting him for weeks; with the human's help and satellite imagery, they'd finally caught him in Oklahoma City. They cornered him in mostly-empty underground parking garage before he realized they were there. The fight had been short and vicious, and ended with an irate Ironhide punching the stubborn Decepticon into unconsciousness.

The sound of footsteps brought Barricade's attention back to the present.

"Awake finally," Ratchet observed.

"Let me down," Barricade growled.

Ratchet snorted. "Why, so you can tear out what's left of your rear axle trying to escape?" He picked up a tool. "Stop squirming before you break something important."

Barricade's engine growled. He'd already come to the conclusion that escape was impossible, but he wasn't going to admit that to an Autobot. Ratchet rapped him hard on the hood.

"Didn't I just tell you to knock that off? Hold still!"

Barricade ignored the command, letting the medic know in precise detail exactly where he could stick his medical equipment.

"That's it. I have to put up with enough of this crap from my own team; I'm not taking it from you, too!" Ratchet yanked open a panel, ignoring Barricade's continued struggling.

-Manual override. Initiating shut down.-

"Slagging Auto-"

-Stasis lock.-

x-x-x

Ironhide leaned in the doorway, watching Ratchet work in silence.

The medic glanced back at him. "You coming in, or did you accidentally bolt your tailgate to the doorway?" Ratchet went back to working on a bent strut. "Did you have to cave in his whole side? Do you have any idea how much work it's going to take to fix this?"

"If he'd stopped when Prime told him to, I wouldn't have had to hit him so hard. Or so many times," Ironhide said defensively.

Ratchet grunted. "Yeah, and you didn't enjoy it at all, did you."

"Hey, I can't help it if beating up Decepticons is therapeutic. And taking pleasure in one's work is supposed to be a good thing." The truck looked over the unconscious Barricade. "Prime wants an update. He gonna live?"

"Of course he'll live. Whether he likes it or not." The strut slid back into place with a snap. "He's functional now – I just got tired of his snarling."

"Got to admire him a bit," Ironhide said after a moment, "He's quite the tenacious little bastard, ain't he?"

"That's one way of putting it," Ratchet grumbled. "Stupidly stubborn, is what I'd call it. Kind of reminds me of a certain weapons specialist who needs to go away and stop distracting me before I strap him to a table."

"Hey! I resent that!"

"The word is 'resemble,' Ironhide. Now scram, or I'm going to decide you need your coolant flushed."

Ironhide backed up. "No need to get nasty. I'll just leave you and your new friend for some quality 'alone time.'" He ducked a spanner. "I'm going!"

x-x-x