A/N: A request from Autobot Trapjaw! The O.C's Marshall, and Trapjaw belong to her! Whoot!

Trapjaw worked silently on the bot in front of her. Sunstreaker got his arm ripped of in some odd chain of events. Apparently, he was trying to rip Sideswipe's off, but obviously that didn't end too well. "You know, Sunstreaker, when you spar, no actual damage is supposed to be inflicted?"

"Shut up." Sunstreaker growled.

Trapjaw stopped working. "Is this how you treat a kind medic who is helping you?"

"Just fix me!"

Trapjaw put her welder on the berth and turned away. "No."

"No?" Sunstreaker glared. "What do you mean 'No'?"

"I mean I'm not fixing you until you apologize and treat me with respect!"

The med bay doors opened, and Trapjaw glanced over to whoever was interrupting her. She sighed as Ratchet walked in. "He's yours! I have a meeting with Optimus!"

Ratchet frowned. "Excuse me? I thought you wanted me to run some tests?"

"Meeting. Optimus. Now. Me." Trapjaw smirked as she ducked, and a wrench hit the wall behind her. "Bye!" She quickly transformed into her beast mode, a White wolf, and sprinted from the med bay.

The Pure white femme sat on the ground in her bipedal mode. Her helm leaned against the wall, and her optics were offline. She heard the footsteps approach, but she ignored them, knowing exactly who they were.

"Trapjaw? What are you doing out here? You should be in the Med bay or some other place where you usually work!"

Trapjaw smirked at her bonded's comment. "Well, Hot Rod, if you must know, I do have days off, and I don't always work."

Hot Rod frowned. "I knew that! I was just saying."

"I got a mission this morning. I leave tomorrow. I was just thinking. You know, the thing most of us do?" Trapjaw onlined her optics just in time to see the offended face her bonded pulled off so well.

"I think!"

"I know you do. It's just you usually think of useless stuff."

"Har Har!" Hot Rod crossed his arms and looked away. After a second he peeked over to Trapjaw. "What kind of mission?"

Trapjaw leaned her helm back again, and sighed. "It's a secret."

Hot Rod frowned. "Yeah? Even if I put on my sexy face?"

"Yep, but if I get back, we can play doctor." Trapjaw purred from her place on the ground.

Hot Rod smirked. "Yeah. You think we can have a second Wildfire?"

Trapjaw laughed. "Oh Roddy, if we ever have another sparkling, you're the carrier!"

"What?" Hot Rod glared. "No way! Never! Nu-uh! You'll have to pull my spark out before that happens!"

"I do have some ratchets with me."

Hot Rod backed up. "I think now would be a good time for me to run."

Trapjaw laughed as Hot Rod sprinted down the hall. Her smile slowly faded. The mission wasn't going to be fun. It wasn't going to be easy, and most likely, she wouldn't come back.

Trapjaw sighed as she reached the launch pad with her half of the medical supplies. Ratchet had the other half, and was none too shy to announce that he was too old for scrap like that. Trapjaw glanced down at the ground as another wave of paranoia hit her.

She had been having that feeling frequently since the day before. She always wanted to look behind, and make sure there wasn't a gun or something pointed at her. She finally understood how Red Alert felt like with his extreme onsets of paranoia. Not fun at all.

"Trapjaw!" Hot Rod waved from the other side of the launch pad. An orange mech stood beside him grimacing.

Trapjaw smiled as she walked over to the two. "What's with the face, wildfire?"

"He's so embarrassing! He's been singing 'Trapjaw! Trapjaw! I love you, and can't wait to play doctor!' Make him stop."

Trapjaw glared at Hot Rod. "Seriously?"

"What?" Hot Rod shrugged. "I can't wait. I might just become a patient."

"And I'll let Ratchet deal with you!" Trapjaw let out a giggle. "Idiot."

Hot Rod shrugged. "Sometimes, I can't help it."

Trapjaw reached into her subspace. She pulled out a data pad, and smiled. "I wrote it last night." She handed it over to Wildfire. "Only read it if I don't come back! If you read it and I do come back, it'll be really embarrassing."

Hot Rod ripped the data pad from Wildfire's servo. "Don't worry! I won't read it ever, cause I know you'll come back!"

Trapjaw frowned. "What if I don't Hot Rod? You have to be ready for stuff like that! You can't just go around always making jokes and stuff!"

Hot Rod frowned. "I know." He reached around Trapjaw and gave her a hug. "I'll bawl if you don't come back. You wanna know why? It's cause I love you!"

Trapjaw reached around Hot Rod's waist. "I love you, too."

Hot Rod was quickly pulled away. A big black mech glared down at him. Hot Rod backed up. "Sire's here!"

"Don't call me that." Ironhide grunted. He turned to Trapjaw. "Be careful. I'm not going to be there this time, but I'll frag up anybody who messes with you, got it. Make mental notes of all the slagging cons who tried!"

Trapjaw laughed. "Don't worry, Sire. I'm sure everything will be fine!"

Ironhide snorted. "Be careful, alright. No con is going to slag up my creation and not answer to me about it."

"Alright." Trapjaw laughed. "Aren't you supposed to be on monitor duty?"

Ironhide frowned. "I am. I was just on my way. Don't nag me."

Trapjaw giggled as Ironhide stomped out of the room, and Hot Rod reattched himself to his femme.

Wildfire moved his Sire away almost like he was a sheet of paper. He reached down and gave his carrier a hug. "I will not let Sire open the data pad unless we must."

Trapjaw hugged her creation back. "Thank you, Wil."

Wildfire nodded as he stepped back. "I think it's time for you to go." He motioned to a femme waving her down.

Trapjaw laughed. "Yep. I'll miss you guys!"

Trapjaw leaned back in her place inside Skyfire. She sighed as the back of her helm tapped on the wall of the hold. The bots around her were chatting, and happy, but she just didn't feel that way. She felt off. Something was wrong. She just couldn't tell what.

Trapjaw glanced over to Ratchet who had a heated glare on Sideswipe. She didn't feel the usual amusement at the young frontliner's expense. That was odd. She glanced up at the ceiling and sighed.

"Something wrong?"

Trapjaw turned to Ratchet who had spared the time to rip his glare away from Sideswipe and moved it to her. "No." She answered. "Just not feeling like myself is all."

Ratchet nodded. "I see. We're almost there, right, Skyfire?"

"Yes. The designated area isn't too far away."

Ratchet nodded. "See?"

Trapjaw nodded. "What exactly are we supposed to be expecting?"

Ratchet glanced up. "Megatron in all his glory. Seekers, Eradicons, insecticons. I hear he's pulling all the stops. How are you feeling? The Fracaso acting up?"

Trapjaw frowned at the mention of the disease. The slagging thing took her original colors away, and it was well on it's way to whiting out her processor. "Hot Rod said I was supposed to have a meeting with Smokescreen a couple of days ago. I apparently forgot. I don't remember, but this morning Smokescreen asked me where I was."

Ratchet nodded. "I see. The memories go first. Then the core programming."

Trapjaw sighed. "That's not what has been bothering me though. I've started to feel paranoid lately."

Ratchet frowned. "Do you know why?"

"If I knew why I wouldn't be asking you!"

"Don't snap at me, femme!" Ratchet growled as the plane bounced a bit.

The hold's door opened up, and bots started to file out. Trapjaw stood up, and prepared herself for what was to come. She had never gotten used to the battle fields. She doubted she ever would.

Ratchet watched Trapjaw and Optimus as they discussed the battle plans. Trapjaw would be the field medic while Ratchet would take over the make shift medical bay inside Skyfire's hold. Trapjaw nodded. "Alright. Prowl is sure that the Decepticons are going to attack here?"

"There is a high concentration of energon beneath our pedes. It is more than likely the Decepticons will strike. When? We cannot be sure."

Trapjaw nodded again. "Okay!" She smiled at Optimus. "Leave everything to me and Ratchet. Between us, not one mech will offline!"

Ratchet snorted. "A big ego." He commented.

"You think it." Trapjaw accused. "Every medic has a big ego. We like to think we're playing god. Deciding who to fix first."

Ratchet snorted. "Sure."

Trapjaw giggled. "I'm just messing with you, Ratch."

Ratchet shook his helm. "Whatever you say."

A mech ran up to the group. "Optimus we have the Decepticons on our radar. They are headed this way just as Commander Prowl said!"

Optimus nodded. "Trapjaw, Ratchet, get ready."

Trapjaw nodded.

The Autobots stood ready for the Decepticons. Any moment and the bane of their existence would coming over the mountain, and towards the place they would try to claim as their own.

The seekers flew in first. The sound of their thrusters almost deafening. Soon after Megatron landed on the top of a mountain, that to the Autobots seemed no more than a hill. "Autobots! How nice of you to join us! Too bad it will be last!"

Megatron made a hand signal and the rest of his army appeared on the top behind him. "Depticons, Transform and rise up!"

Optimus glared as his battle mask snapped close. "Autobots, Roll out!"

The Autobots ran up the mountain meeting the Decepticons halfway in a clash of swords and blasters. It wasn't long before bots began falling, and Trapjaw's patch jobs were needed. She started at the base of the mountain, working in the less dangerous zones before moving closer to the combat zone. The closer she got, the more her paranoia seemed to act up.

"Slag it! Stop it, Trapjaw! Nothing is there!" She cursed as she ran up to another bot, and started a scan. A major blast to the side. She pulled out her anesthetic and injected it into the bot's neck. "You'll be fine. The anesthetic will ease the pain, but your senses should stay sharp."

The bot nodded with a groan. Trapjaw pulled out some sheet metal and began working on the temporary weld job. The feeling to look behind her continued to rack her processor. Turn around! Turn around! Turn around!

Trapjaw quickly finished the weld, and stood up. Turn around! She couldn't control herself any longer. She turned around. Her optics widened as the blue plasma shot hit her chest and she flew back, barely missing the mech she had just fixed.

Trapjaw's frame hit the ground with a thud, and slid back.

"Slag!"

She faintly heard the mech she had repaired yell out in shock.

"h-HELP! MEDIC DOWN! MEDIC DOWN!" The bot watched with wide optics as a huge mech ran down the mountain, and scooped the white femme off the ground.

Ratchet had already had a huge influx of bots coming in. He was treating the severely injured while Trapjaw was taking care of the moderately injured on the battle field. "Ratchet!"

Ratchet quickly turned to the sound of his name being shouted. "What the frag? What's with the slagg- Trapjaw!" Ratchet rushed forward, and ran a quick scan over the femme. "Slag! Put her on the berth!"

Ratchet quickly began working on the femme's chassis. He began hooking the frame up to the machines that kept track of her energon flow and spark signature. The shot hit right over her spark chamber. Multiple cracks had began to form over protective casing, parts had even crumbled away. Even Ratchet knew when there was not hope. Any kind of wound to the spark chamber was hard enough to fix, but this, this was impossible. Ratchet cursed as the femme's optics began to online.

"R-ratchet?"

"Shut up." Ratchet grabbed a wrench and gently tapped it against the femme's helm. The least he could was be there.

"I can't really feel anything."

"It's normal." Ratchet cursed as he looked away. He knew the femme. She was his apprentice. He helped raise the slagging cyberwolf!

"It feels funny."

Ratchet watched as the femmes' optics began shorting out. "Yeah." Ratchet swallowed a knot in his throat as the femme began coughing.

"Ow." She mumbled. A trickle of energon ran down her face. "Oh. I see." She chuckled. "I'm dying."

"Shut up! You're-"

"Better than offlining as a vegetable. At least I got a chance to fight."

Ratchet glanced down at the floor. "Y-yeah."

"I regret nothing." Trapjaw mumbled. She let out a slight laugh. "I've always wanted to say tha-" Her optics flickered offline, as the blue glow from her spark flickered out.

Ratchet stared at the frame. His optics wide. He squeezed them shut, and turned away from the frame. He shuttered his optics, and worked the tears from falling out. "Next patient!" He yelled.