Title: Song Meme #8 - "Bulletproof" by Kerli

Pairings: Ironhide x Chromia, Elita x Optimus.

Rating: PG-13 for violence, death, and one curse word.

Warnings: Angst, implied death.

Author's Note: This was written for BloodTempest's Kiriban winnings on DeviantArt. (Added here on February 28th, 2010. Written on February 7th, 2010.) All recognizable content belongs to its owner.

Be careful what you say,
Be careful what you do.
I'm not bulletproof.
I'm not bulletproof.
- Kerli, "Bulletproof"

The medical bay was uncharacteristically quiet, even more so because of the dozen or so mechs and femmes crammed into the seats that had been dragged into the room. There were no voices or laughter, only the quiet beeps and whirrs of the machines. Chromia, seated directly beside Ironhide, pressed her cheek into his palm, kissing the broad plane gently as her engine hiccuped. Elita rubbed Chromia's shoulder gently as they both surveyed the off-line warrior. He had nearly perished to protect Elita and her sparkling from a surprise attack by rogue Sector Seven agents.

Both of his broad chest plates had been punctured by shrapnel and a sabot round. When he had first entered the medical bay, Ratchet had initially believed that Ironhide would not survive. True to his namesake, his armor absorbed most of the damage, leaving his internals mostly unscathed. The plates had been mangled and melted beyond salvation, so they had to be removed. The gaping crevasse had been covered with a few large pieces of dull steel, stark against his protoform. His cannons, partly dissolved by acid pellets, had been stripped off, leaving behind exposed wires and nodes on his forearms. He looked pitifully bare without them. The only paint that remained on him was the few patches of soot-stained black that had not been destroyed by the acid pellets or Ratchet's soldering tool.

Ratchet entered the room and began to tinker with the wires in Ironhide's exposed shoulder joint, as though the unnecessary repairs would somehow help bring his friend out of stasis. For a cycle, there was nothing but silence and the quiet hiss of Ratchet's soldering tools. Soon, there was nothing left that Ratchet could repair without extra supplies. As Ratchet turned away, Chromia reached out and grabbed his hand, not speaking as she turned her empty, sorrowed optics up to him. Ratchet knew what she wanted to ask.

Will he survive?

"Most of the physical damage has been repaired," Ratchet said softly, squeezing her hand gently, "the rest is up to him now. He needs you to lend him strength." Chromia nodded silently, not even noticing the gentle squeeze from Ratchet. She slipped her hand out of his and rested her fingertips against Ironhide's scarred cheek plate. She maintained her dutiful presence in their bond, anchoring him to the physical world. She feared that if she let go for even a split-second, Primus would pluck his spark from his chest.

There was a pulse from his end of the spark bond at her touch. Then there was a ragged groan from the mech's vocalizers. Ratchet dropped his tool onto the berth and leapt into action, running several scans in the span of a few seconds. Just as quickly, he decided on a course of treatment. He twisted a knob on the computer, doubling the energon flow into Ironhide's converter. The surge of raw energon jolted his systems to life. Ironhide's engine spluttered for a brief moment, but roared to life soon afterwards. The strong roar shuddered every few moments. Ironhide's optics came online a split-second later.

"Ratchet?" Ironhide asked quietly, "what happened?"

"Sector Seven agents," Ratchet spat out acidly, "Do not worry about their fates. Optimus terminated them just before you went offline."

Ironhide lifted the hand that Chromia was not clinging to and lifted it into the air above him. He flexed his hand into a fist, turning his wrist over to glance at the port that had connected his cannon to his weapons interface. He peered around the room, looking even more confused than before.

"Oh, Ironhide," Chromia sobbed, throwing her arms around Ironhide's neck, "I was so worried about you! Y-you were so close to deactivating..."

Ironhide patted her back awkwardly. He gave Ratchet a curious look, but he did not push her away. Instead, he rubbed her back soothingly as she cried. After Chromia calmed and let go of his neck, Ironhide spoke very quietly. His brilliant blue optics brightened slightly.

"I don' mind the hug, sweetspark, but who...who the frag are you?"

Note: There won't be a continuation of this, so you are more than welcome to decide what happens next. ^^