Notes: Well, my NaNo has keeled over and died, so I've gone back to this a week earlier than planned.

A Wing and a Prayer

Chapter 2

The common room was quiet at this hour of downtime - well, it had been quiet until the Aerialbots had descended on it, at least. The fact that Slingshot, Skydive, and Air Raid were having another argument was a factor, but really, it was rare for the group of flyers to go anywhere quietly.

Fireflight liked it. He sort of knew that it was annoying for other people - like Mirage, leaving the room in a hurry as soon as they entered, with a glare and a muttered remark that the others, fortunately, didn't catch - and he sometimes felt bad about it, but then, other people were always doing things to annoy the Aerialbots, so wasn't turnabout fair play? And besides, didn't they deserve some slack - and some credit - for their status as the Autobots' only air forces?

And Fireflight loved being surrounded by the constant push-and-pull of his brothers' voices. Even when they were teasing him - even when the arguments grew teeth and ended with someone sulking and the others loudly pretending they didn't care - even when Silverbolt lost his temper (rare) and shouted at them (rarer) - he felt everything was right as long as it wasn't quiet.

Wedged in next to Silverbolt on the smaller couch with the other three descending into (mostly) friendly death-threats on the bigger one, Fireflight felt that all was right with the world. And pressed up this close to Silverbolt, he could read his wingmate's energy field like a datapad: despite a faint thread of frustration over the day's training, and the low-level anxiety that never really seemed to dissipate, Silverbolt was content too, and that made Fireflight sigh happily and snuggle in under his brother's arm get his wings petted.

Silverbolt obliged, glancing down at him questioningly.

"We did okay today, didn't we?" said Fireflight.

Silverbolt hesitated, but when he replied, Fireflight could feel the truthfulness of it in his field.

"Yes, we were okay today." A smile tugged at his mouth. "Maybe tomorrow we can attempt to move from 'okay' to 'good'."

Fireflight fixed him with a bright, guileless stare that was not as unconscious as people generally thought.

"I don't know, that might be dangerously ambitious."

Silverbolt laughed, and that made things definitely alright. Silverbolt had been off all week, angry with them for making fun of his friend - and truthfully, Fireflight didn't really get why the others disliked him so much when they didn't even know him, and that spinning top thing had been neat - and more snappish than usual when they'd messed up in practice. His sarcastic description a couple of days ago of the Seekers' probable opinions of the Aerialbots hadn't been nice at all; Fireflight had gone off by himself and practised that one turn over and over until he got it right, just because Silverbolt had painted such a vivid picture of Thundercracker and Starscream laughing their tailfins off at his clumsiness.

"Did you hurt yourself in that last crash?"

"No, I'm good. Bent a flap, but Skydive put it right."

"Still, get Ratchet to look at it before tomorrow."

Fireflight mostly hid the wing-twitch, but couldn't stop Silverbolt feeling the ripple in his field. Silverbolt looked down at him with a mixture of despair and reluctant sympathy.

"He's not going to shout at you for a bent flap, Fireflight."

"He always shouts at me."

"How about if I ask Hot Spot to get First Aid to do it, then?"

Fireflight was silent. He liked First Aid, no matter what Slingshot had to say about his pacifism, and he'd much rather have him than Ratchet... for anything except wings. First Aid's experience was mostly of ground vehicles and his own gestalt-brothers. He was good enough with the main circuitry, but he didn't yet have the particular expertise needed for wing repairs - or various other delicate operations - which was why they were all supposed to report to Ratchet rather than sneaking off and getting First Aid to look at it. Not that that stopped Blades and Streetwise from going to their brother rather than the Ark's chief medic, especially if they had, just for example, got themselves a new set of dents from the Aerialbots.

Silverbolt sighed, and seemed about to launch into yet another explanation of why Fireflight didn't have any reason to be scared of Ratchet. Fireflight was often tempted to counter these with a similar explanation of why Silverbolt didn't have any reason to be scared of heights, but he wasn't that cruel. But then Silverbolt's optics brightened and a quick flicker of recognition/pleasure went through his field. Following his gaze, Fireflight saw that the big, white shuttle - Skyfire - had just come into the common room. He didn't seem to have noticed the Aerialbots (which was an achievement in itself), as he was absorbed in a datapad as he crossed the room to the energon dispensers. Silverbolt watched him go, obviously thinking of calling out, while Fireflight wondered what it was like to fly through space, and how big Skyfire was in his alt-mode, and if he'd show Fireflight the pretty spinning thing again, if Fireflight asked, and explain how it worked in his nice voice. He also wondered why he'd never noticed Skyfire around before: it wasn't like he was easy to miss. Fireflight was sure he'd have seen him if he'd ever been in the common room at the same time as they were.

Having obtained a cube of energon, Skyfire looked up from his datapad and around the room, and his optics finally met Silverbolt's. He smiled a greeting; Silverbolt smiled back. Fireflight grinned in what he hoped was a friendly sort of way, and Skyfire smiled at him, too, so that was alright. He looked like he might come over here and talk to them, which would be nice: the other three would probably needle him, but they'd get over it if he turned out to be cooler than he looked. And if Silverbolt liked him so much, he pretty much had to be.

Slingshot, however, had noticed where they were looking and twisted around to see for himself. He gave a snort of disdain.

"Don't look now, Silverbolt's friend just turned up to lecture us on exciting bits of metal again."

"Aw, no way."

"Shut up," said Silverbolt, glaring at Slingshot and Air Raid.

Skyfire was close enough to hear them; rather than being put off by the comment, however, he seemed to take it as his cue to approach.

"Do you mind if I join you?"

The question was directed at Silverbolt, who said, "Of course not," before the others had time to put him off. Air Raid groaned loudly and Slingshot glared at Skyfire. Fireflight, spurred on by the fact that Silverbolt's field had gone ripply and uneven with annoyance and a funny kind of tension, jumped to his feet helpfully.

"You can sit here if you want."

"Like he'd fit," said Air Raid.

"Probably break the couch," added Slingshot.

"It can take heavier weights than mine," Skyfire replied without the slightest acknowledgement of their rudeness; however, he waved Fireflight back to his seat. "But I think I'll pull up a chair. The couches weren't really designed with wings in mind."

"Bet he breaks the chair," muttered Air Raid to Slingshot and Skydive, just loudly enough to be overheard.

"Bet Silverbolt kills you as soon as we're back in the hangar," Skydive replied, though he didn't look too impressed by Skyfire's presence either. "Behave."

Skyfire hesitated over what to do with his datapad and energon cube, but Silverbolt offered a hand, and Skyfire passed them over with a quick smile of thanks. Towing one of the free-standing chairs over to the Aerialbots' couches, he hit several adjustment switches with the ease of much practice, causing it to unfold into a configuration more suitable for Skyfire's size.

"I didn't know they went that big," Skydive said, in what might have been mistaken for polite interest if you didn't know him. Silverbolt, who did, flashed a sharp look in his direction and was met with a bland expression in return. "You'd think there'd be an upper limit."

"There is," Skyfire replied, either unaware of Skydive's subtle jibe or choosing to ignore it. "And in all honesty, it's not much above this setting, but fortunately for me, Grapple and Hoist stuck to the standard schematics instead of cutting corners when they were building the Ark."

He took his things back from Silverbolt with a "thank you", and sipped from the cube

"Why didn't they make the couches like that?" Fireflight wondered aloud. "My wings are cramped."

"The couches were a later addition," Skyfire said. "They're a human concept, really - Grapple just scaled up." He gave Fireflight's wings a sympathetic look. "I don't find them too comfortable, myself."

Fireflight would have launched into an explanation of how the thing about the couches was that they let you pile on top of your brothers much more easily than the chairs, but Slingshot butted in before he could.

"Why do you even have wings?" he demanded.

Even Air Raid shot him a startled look for that one: it felt dangerously close to a suggestion that said wings be removed, and you did not threaten a fellow flyer's wings. You just didn't. Slingshot hunched up defensively.

"What? He's too big to use them for real manoeuvring and he doesn't need them in space. Why isn't he just a rocket like Omega Supreme?"

"You'd be surprised how little size really matters," Skyfire replied, evenly enough but with just a hint of something steely under the words. "My shields reduce friction and help with the displacement problem, and I have extremely powerful auxiliary jets. I've no doubt you have a better turning circle than I have, but I have no altitude ceiling and my systems are calibrated to handle far greater extremes of gravity and pressure than yours. I can go where you can't follow, and I can come down fast and from an angle you're not expecting. I'm not primarily a fighter, but deep space exploration was dangerous even before the war: you don't embark on it without being able to outrun - or, if necessary, out-gun - anything, sentient or otherwise, that you might encounter."

Silence. Fireflight realised, to his amazement and secret delight, that Slingshot had been rendered momentarily speechless. And he couldn't remember the last time that had happened. Which settled it, really - Skyfire was clearly someone worth getting to know. Fireflight leaned forward eagerly.

"Have you been to many other planets? Are they all like this one?"

He was aware, as Skyfire turned to him with a smile and began to talk, of three of his brothers shooting him surprised, annoyed looks - but he was also aware of the spike of gratitude in Silverbolt's field, and the way he began to relax, slowly, and the way he listened to Skyfire with as much interest as Fireflight.

Definitely worth getting to know, Fireflight thought, and started asking questions.

"How many of those do you have now?"

Silverbolt didn't try to hide his amusement. Skyfire smiled in response, but he didn't look up from the tangle of wires he was sorting through. All around him, a small armada of solar energy collectors wobbled slowly, making the most of the dim daylight someone had managed, with some creative use of mirrors, to funnel into the lab.

"About fifty," Skyfire replied, carefully separating out one handful of wires, only to pause and cast his optics over the bench to either side of him with some irritation. "Give or take the ones Wheeljack's wandered off with. Can you see my tool tray anywhere?"

Silverbolt stifled a laugh, and came further into the room, trying to spot the missing tray. Skyfire's lab, usually tidy and subdivided into his areas of study, was currently lost under a mass of wires, spinning-top energy collectors, and miscellaneous bits of circuitry that had been hooked up to them. Given that most of the wires were colour-coded, it looked like the room had been buried under an explosion of carnival streamers. Silverbolt had to wonder how Skyfire planned to escape without getting hopelessly tangled up - and then he spotted the tools, almost hidden under a small mound of coiled cabling that Skyfire had obviously laid aside without looking. He picked his way through the cluttered lab, grabbed both tray and wire, and offered the former up to Skyfire with a grin.

"Thanks." Skyfire took the tray, snatched a handful of plastic binders, tied up the bundles of wires, let them drop onto the bench, then straightened up with a sigh and a rueful smile for Silverbolt. "We need to test them en masse, he said. Your lab has better light, he said. And now he's run off somewhere and left me with the mess."

"This would be Perceptor?" Silverbolt found a moderately clear bit of bench to lean against. Absently, he uncoiled a bit of the wire in his hands and started to play it around his fingers. "I thought he went out on the mission earlier."

"Oh, he did. He's perfectly justified in not being here." Skyfire cast a despairing glance over the chaos around him. "I should have insisted we used his lab, that's all."

Silverbolt thought about Perceptor's lab - a strange, cluttered domain where the piles of stuff went so high that there were rumours of visiting human scientists still lost in there - and was privately of the opinion that unleashing this tide of wires and moving parts on it could only have led to bad things. Skyfire looked so put out, though, that he decided against mentioning it.

"Why so many?"

"Oh, there are a number of things we need to check." Skyfire poked one of the converters with a finger, watching it wobble on its axis and then regain equilibrium. "What happens if one of them malfunctions, how the energy collection is distributed, that sort of thing. The next step will be setting them up outside and running a simulation in full daylight, but Perceptor thought we should test the load levels first."

The wire Silverbolt was playing with was fine and springy, and it had somehow got tangled around his fingers and stuck in the joints. He started trying to work it loose as subtly as possible.

"And then we'll be able to use them to gather energy for the Ark?"

Skyfire hesitated for long enough that Silverbolt took his attention off the wretched wire and looked up at him curiously.

"Something like that," Skyfire replied cautiously. "It's actually... not something I can talk about at the moment."

"Oh." Silverbolt was aware that the science team worked on a number of projects classified top secret, but he couldn't exactly see how the little solar converters qualified. After a moment, he said, "You know, you'd better not let Fireflight in here. He'll never leave."

Skyfire laughed.

"He doesn't run out of questions easily, does he?"

Silverbolt wanted to say a lot, all at once, then - to thank Skyfire, somehow, for the way he'd handled Silverbolt's brothers the other day - to apologise for their behaviour, yet again - to ask if he really hadn't minded Fireflight's relentless interrogation and the increasingly rude interruptions from the other three - or if he'd rather Silverbolt kept out of his way when he was with the rest of his gestalt. But an incautious twist of one hand drew the wire suddenly tight under his left thumb, cutting into the seam there, and Silverbolt couldn't hold back a grimace of pain.

Skyfire frowned, came across the space between them, and caught Silverbolt's hands in his to stop him moving them further.

"What have you done to yourself?"

"I'm not sure. It got tangled when I wasn't looking, and..."

"Hmm. Hold still."

Skyfire found a loose end Silverbolt hadn't even noticed, and began to carefully work it free of the cat's cradle of wire he'd managed to construct between his fingers. Skyfire's hands were large, of course, but Silverbolt had noticed before that they were surprisingly deft; his fingers were long and slender, and tapered more than most, so that he was more than capable of picking out the fine wiring. Silverbolt found himself briefly fascinated, watching them work, so that it was only when Skyfire had managed to unloop the last of the mess, and pull it free of Silverbolt's fingers, that he realised neither of them had spoken the whole time.

"Um. Thanks." Silverbolt smiled up at Skyfire, ignoring the way his hands felt slightly electric now, the way his plating did when he'd used his lightning in battle. "I suppose that serves me right for fiddling."

Skyfire was examining the wire he'd pulled off Silverbolt's fingers, frowning.

"Where did you find this?"

"On top of your tool tray. Why?"

"I've been looking for it all afternoon." Skyfire put the coil of wire down carefully in a clear space, where it was obvious, and cast Silverbolt an amused look. "I think I've been doing this too long. Would you like to go and get some energon?"

"Of course--"

The lab communication panel - buried somewhere under a heap of wiring and a pair of barely twitching converters - gave a peremptory beep. Just as Skyfire turned towards it, Silverbolt's comms pinged, and he opened the channel automatically.

:Silverbolt? Jazz here. We need you in ops, the mission's gone bad.:

:On my way.:

Silverbolt cut the connection. "Skyfire--"

"I know." Skyfire had managed to uncover the screen, and his expression was troubled. "They want me there, as well."

He began to make his way carefully through the cluttered lab towards the door. Silverbolt moved quickly to follow him.

"I didn't think you were usually called in to front-line engagements..."

"I'm not." Skyfire reached the door, palmed it open, then held the controls until Silverbolt was out in the corridor. "Which means something has really gone wrong."

:Can you see them yet?:

:Negative, but if they've managed to fall back to the extraction point, they should be within range of my scanners any moment now.:

:Okay.: Silverbolt pulled up a bit, rising higher in their formation, and radioed to the others, :Spread out, guys, we're almost there.:

The cacophony of responses - Air Raid's whoop of glee stood out particularly - was hardly professional, but was at least enthusiastic. Skyfire shuddered in relief as they spread out, though he managed to keep it down to no more than a quick wing-flick, easily disguised as turbulence. He wasn't used to having other flyers around - certainly not young, reckless flyers who liked to show off, or easily distractable ones who occasionally drifted slightly too close for comfort - and it was proving an unexpected strain trying to keep in formation with them. Skyfire had to fight the urge to pull out and head for the edge of the atmosphere, had to choke down the prickly, trapped feeling that this close flying had scraped up from a forgotten place in his spark. It had been millennia since he'd flown in atmosphere with anyone but Starscream (and how many vorns of their acquaintance had passed before he was comfortable with the Seeker on his wing?) and since his emergence from the ice he had become accustomed to his solitude in the air.

It didn't help that Silverbolt, despite technically being in charge of this operation, seemed reluctant to give him orders. Skyfire could sympathise with his hesitation - their friendship was rather new still, after all, and Silverbolt was younger than him - but Skyfire was not a formation flyer and he didn't have the Aerialbots' link to tip him off.

Still, they had made it this far, and now the Aerialbots had fanned out, giving him space, and Skyfire could concentrate on his part of the mission. Three bots too badly damaged for the ground fighters to get them out - he tried not to think about the fact that Perceptor was one of them - and they needed Skyfire to get them clear, get back to the Ark, before the main retrieval force swept in to try and turn the tide of the battle.

His sensors pinged.

:Got them.:

:Any sign of Decepticons in their area?:

:Nope, not a one,: said Air Raid, despite the fact that he wasn't the one who'd been asked. He was up high, higher than Silverbolt, rolling playfully with his flaps, and clearly spoiling for a fight. :I can see laser fire to the east, though!:

:It looks kind of like firebugs, from up here.: Fireflight, of course. :Hey, did you see that? That big green flash? What was that?:

:Probably a pulse weapon,: Skyfire told him. :Silverbolt - I'm getting Decepticon energy signatures making for the retrieval point from the north. Can you keep them busy while I land?:

:We're on it.: Silverbolt put on a burst of speed, drawing out ahead of their rather ragged formation. :Aerialbots, attack on my mark!:

The five young jets shot forward, and Skyfire had a few moments, before he had to start thinking about his own flightpath, to watch them in action. He had seen Seeker wings before - mostly in the recent battles, but once or twice before the war, when Starscream had dragged him to flight tests and galas - and was familiar with their precision work in formations. The Aerialbots... well, the most that could be said was that they were vaguely trying to keep together (no, that wasn't fair - Skydive and Silverbolt were holding their part of the pattern) and that when Silverbolt gave the order to attack, they obeyed without hesitation...

... and in perfect, unconscious synchronisation. Even though Air Raid barrel-rolled as he came down laughing, even though Slingshot fell behind as his faster team-mates put on a final spurt, even though Fireflight had to pull up sharply to avoid a spur of rock he had failed to recognise as an obstacle... watching them was like watching one being that happened to be in five different places. They always knew where the others were, and when Silverbolt gave an order, they obeyed it not in time with the words, but with some unheard, unseen cue that seemed to run invisible between the five of them. They had none of the polished perfection of a well-trained Seeker wing - but all the raw, wild grace of a natural dancer. Laser fire arced and flared, and the Aerialbots spun through it with such dizzying ease that it struck Skyfire in the same way as watching a breaking wave, or an incoming storm - something seemingly directed, with an intensity of purpose, and yet utterly without conscious control.

Gestalt, Skyfire thought, really appreciating the concept for the first time.

Then he was pulling the hard turn needed to get him down to the landing site without getting caught up in the battle, and he didn't have time to do more than keep his comms open and cast the occasional sensor sweep backwards towards the conflict. The landing was a tight one - there wasn't really room for a vehicle the size of his alt-mode to get down on it, but by initiating a partial transformation, he was able to make it. Before he could even get his ramp down, Ratchet was ducking under one wing, supporting a grimed and battered Sideswipe.

"How bad is he?"

"I've been better," Sideswipe replied for himself, lifting his head enough to shoot a weak grin at Skyfire, and then lifting a wobbly arm to show off something he was clutching tightly. "Look! M'leg came off."

"Shut up and sit down," snapped Ratchet as he hauled his sniggering patient into Skyfire's cabin.

The next few minutes were touchy ones. The laser fire started as Ratchet was coming back with an unconscious Perceptor. From the Aerialbots' comm talk, Skyfire gathered that it was the Combaticons to the north of them; he tried to suppress a surge of worry. The Combaticons were far more experienced soldiers than the Aerialbots... but he had to concentrate on his own task, sheltering Ratchet and his patients (Beachcomber was the worst off, but Skyfire didn't like what he'd seen in his quick scan of Perceptor) as much as he could without transforming. Just as Ratchet had secured Beachcomber, and Skyfire was closing his cabin doors as quickly as he could, there was a pause in the firing - and then a roar of challenge, and suddenly they were being bombarded by huge blasts of energy, vastly more powerful than the Combaticons' individual weaponry.

:Silverbolt!:

:Bruticus,: was the terse response. :We'll take care of him.:

Skyfire heard no order, but all at once the roar of the Aerialbots' engines changed their note, and cut out, and those devastating energy shots were turned from Skyfire to an unseen target. He risked a brief sensor-glance to the north, registered Superion grappling with Bruticus, forced down anxiety, and fired up his own engines.

The first part of the take-off went smoothly, but just as Skyfire thought he was clear, he realised he was going to clip the rocky outcropping at the far end. He had to bank so hard to avoid it that Sideswipe was flung across his cabin with a shout of alarm, although Ratchet had managed to strap his two unconscious patients down firmly enough that they didn't do more than slide a bit - and the medic himself had a grip like a vice on one of Skyfire's bulkheads. He made the turn, clawed for height, and after a few tense seconds, his scanners told him he was clear. With a quick reassurance over the comms - and a wince, Sideswipe had hit some sensitive panelling pretty hard - Skyfire came around to the heading that would take them back towards the Autobot base.

A barrage of laser fire cut the sky to ribbons around him. Skyfire choked down a curse: the Coneheads were supposed to be on Cybertron! How were they diving out of the sun at him in the middle of this minor skirmish gone so terribly wrong? He threw himself into evasive manoeuvring, but there were three of them, and they were faster - if he could just get higher, get some space, he'd be able to hold his own, but they knew that, and they were keeping him pinned to the earth, barely above the treacherous crags.

Then, with a howl of challenge, the Aerialbots caught them up. Air Raid dived recklessly through the Seeker formation, forcing them to scatter - at no little risk to himself - while Slingshot roared past them and then twisted on a wing, catching Thrust unawares and scoring across his fuselage with a derisive shout.

:Are you okay?: Silverbolt sounded worried as he drew level; Skyfire replied quickly in the affirmative. :Sorry we weren't here sooner - Bruticus took his time to go down.: A note of grim pride entered his voice. :But he won't be getting up again for a while.:

:Hey guys,: Skydive called over the shared frequency, cool and amused, :want to play tag?:

A chorus of shouts and cheers answered him. Four random blurs of colour momentarily became one coordinated line, diving down at the Seekers, then split into two pairs that angled in towards each other, crossing paths and then fanning back out. Fireflight and Skydive flew straight under the noses of Dirge and Ramjet, who turned at once to give chase, and Skyfire wanted to radio a warning, because the Seekers were right on their tails--

-- and then Air Raid and Slingshot were strafing them with gleeful whoops and derisive shouts, their own flightpath the mirror of their wingmates', setting up the perfect shot. It was an old manoeuvre, but effective if done right - and devastating when its targets were clearly not expecting any sort of co-ordination from their opponents. Ramjet spiralled groundwards with a squawk, while Dirge pulled off a hasty and painful-looking turn and roared skywards so sharply he almost stalled.

:They did it.: Silverbolt sounded halfway between pride and disbelief. :They actually did it!:

:Did you see that, Silverbolt?: Fireflight spun in sheer delight, leaving his brothers to chase down Thrust, who had already turned tail and was fleeing back towards the Decepticon forces with unseemly haste. :I didn't mess up!:

:You were brilliant!: Pride had won out. :Now we just have to--:

:Incoming!: shouted Air Raid. :Blitzwing and Thundercracker, heading for the main force!:

:Leave them,: ordered Silverbolt. :We have to stick with Skyfire.: A pause, then, with dismay, :Air Raid, get back here! Slingshot!:

:Don't be a turbo-chicken!: taunted Slingshot. :C'mon, Silverbolt, help us take them down!:

:Our orders are to head back to base with the wounded--:

:Screw that!:

:Slingshot!:

It was against battle protocol, but Skyfire opened a private channel to Silverbolt.

:Go after them. I'll be okay - we're clear of the danger zone now.:

:I can't just take off and leave you,: retorted Silverbolt, anger and frustration replacing that too-brief delight.

:I'm not defenceless. Go and keep them out of trouble.:

Silverbolt hesitated a second longer, then with a grateful dip of one wing, he turned and sped after his wingmates.

For a few minutes, Skyfire flew in silence, sensors strained back towards the battle.

"You gotta hand it to them," said Sideswipe finally, grudging respect in his voice. "They've got the manifolds."

"And all the common sense of a toaster oven," snapped Ratchet, busy with Beachcomber's damaged chest armour. "Get over here and help, would you?"

It took Skyfire so long to find Silverbolt that he began to worry. Silverbolt might have gone out flying again, and although, when he put his head into the repair bay, Ratchet told him that he'd given the Aerialbot leader the all-clear, the idea of Silverbolt flying alone, in the dark and in his current frame of mind, made Skyfire fret.

Not that he could be at all sure of Silverbolt's frame of mind, of course, but with one of his team in the repair bay and the other three in the brig, Skyfire guessed that it wasn't likely to be good.

In the end, Skyfire made up his mind to go out looking, but he didn't get more than a few steps from the Ark's main entrance before he heard voices - and one of them he knew at once was Silverbolt's. Turning to follow them, he found his way onto the well-used path up the lower slope of the volcano that lead to a broad plateau where the more outdoors-inclined Autobots were in the habit of spending their free time. Silverbolt was sitting on one of the large rocks that lay strewn about the area, talking to a predominantly blue mech that Skyfire took a moment to identify as Hot Spot, leader of the other gestalt team, the Protectobots.

Silverbolt looked up at Skyfire's approach - but as soon as he registered who it was, his optics dropped, and he refused to meet Skyfire's concerned gaze, toying with the cube of energon in his hands. Hot Spot turned, and relaxed infinitesimally - Skyfire only then realised that he'd been tensed - shifting in his seat to give a quick wave. Skyfire nodded in acknowledgement, but his optics were on Silverbolt, who was clearly uncomfortable - had he made a mistake in coming out here? Maybe they didn't want his company. Skyfire hesitated, half thinking he should just make an excuse and leave right away.

But Hot Spot seemed to see no problem with him being here; his faceguard was off, letting Skyfire see his quick, easy smile.

"You looking for us?"

"Yes," Skyfire replied, although it wasn't quite true, because he hadn't had any idea Hot Spot was here. "I just wanted..." He stopped, turned his attention back to Silverbolt. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," replied Silverbolt, apparently fascinated by the shimmering energon that cast a faint glow up onto his face. "Ratchet said I was free to go."

"That wasn't what I meant."

"Well, I'm fine either way."

"You're not," put in Hot Spot. "But you'd feel better if you'd drink that stuff instead of looking at it."

Silverbolt made a non-committal noise, tilting the cube so that the energon - high-grade, Skyfire realised, from the colour - made small waves against the side of the container. He still wouldn't look up, and Skyfire decided that he had better beat a retreat. An uneasy sort of ache had started near his spark at Silverbolt's clear desire he be elsewhere.

Hot Spot forestalled him just as he opened his mouth. With a sigh and a shake of the head, the blue mech turned an exasperated glare on Silverbolt and then picked up one of several cubes on the ground by his feet and held it out towards Skyfire.

"You'd better sit down," Hot Spot said, "this might take a while. I guess you know those little idiots - sorry, Silverbolt, but they really were this time - have got themselves in the brig again?"

"And the med bay," Silverbolt said, too quietly. "Believe me, I've had enough of defending them for one day."

"Fireflight's fine," Skyfire told him, coming closer and picking out a large enough rock to serve as a seat. Hot Spot's clear desire that he join them allayed some of his anxiety. He knew Silverbolt considered Hot Spot a good friend; if the other gestalt leader thought Skyfire's presence would be welcomed, Skyfire would take the chance. "I just stopped in at the med bay a few minutes ago. Ratchet says he'll be awake and fully recovered by tomorrow."

"He wouldn't even be in stasis if he hadn't panicked when Ratchet tried to work on him." Silverbolt finally lifted the energon to his lips and took a long drink. "And as for the others..."

"You can deal with it tomorrow," Hot Spot interrupted firmly. "None of them are going anywhere tonight. Help yourself," he added, as Skyfire took the offered cube and sat down, "I raided Groove's stock, there's plenty."

"Thank you," replied Skyfire, just as Silverbolt seemed to come out of his thoughts, looking between them with startled contrition.

"I'm sorry," he said, "I should have... have you two met? Hot Spot--"

"Yeah - Skyfire, right?" Hot Spot held out his hand and Skyfire, taken aback for a moment, recalled the Earth custom and shook it. "You helped us out with that operation in Ecuador... but you kinda vanished after that."

"I went off-planet for a while - surveying some of the further reaches of this solar system for resources."

"Well, I always meant to thank you for getting First Aid out of there when you did, so drink up." Hot Spot turned to Silverbolt with a grin. "Don't you remember? I said you should meet him, knew you'd get along."

"You did?" Silverbolt frowned. "I really don't recall..."

"I think you were in the middle of that whole argument with the FAA at the time. I'm surprised you could remember your own name by the end of it."

"Don't remind me," sighed Silverbolt, optics on his drink again, face falling back into unhappy reflection. "Primus, what a mess. Tomorrow I'm going to have to try and write it up into some sort of form that doesn't make my entire team look like dangerous lunatics..."

"You're exaggerating," Hot Spot said bluntly. "Even Prowl admitted they made a difference to the retreat."

"Was that before or after he asked me if I thought five days in the brig was really long enough?"

"Okay, I'm not saying he's your biggest fan right now--"

"The worst part," said Silverbolt in a low voice, "is that they were really trying, up until Slingshot got carried away..."

"Yes," Skyfire put in, "they were. And I think you're both being much too hard on them."

For the first time, Silverbolt looked directly at him, startled, and Skyfire made sure to meet his optics and hold them.

"You did a good job, all of you," he said. "Don't forget you took out Bruticus - and the way you dealt with that Seeker wing was superb. I've never been able to get people out that fast, or with so little trouble. I usually have to fight, and that adds time on until we can get the injured to med bay... as it was, Ratchet had Perceptor and Beachcomber back at the Ark before they got anything close to critical. Perceptor's awake, even, because Ratchet got his systems stabilised quickly enough that he didn't have to go into a deep stasis sequence."

Silverbolt made as if to say something, but the words didn't come. At the expression on his face, Skyfire put down his energon cube and leaned over to touch Silverbolt's arm. For a moment their energy fields overlapped, and Skyfire felt the hot rush of shame from Silverbolt - humiliation, that Skyfire had witnessed his gestalt's failure first hand, and guilt, that he'd been put at risk. No wonder he had been avoiding Skyfire's optics. And that look on his face...

"Did no-one think to bring any of that up in your defence?"

"Ratchet wasn't there," murmured Silverbolt. "But even so, they disobeyed orders--"

"Offhand," Skyfire interrupted, "I can think of almost a dozen instances where I've witnessed the twins directly disobey orders. I've heard of dozens more."

Silverbolt began to speak - to say it was no excuse, no doubt - but Skyfire carried determinedly on.

"Mirage has a bad habit of acting on his own initiative, without clearing it first. So does Jazz, for that matter, but he's got enough rank to get away with it. You must have heard Huffer and Gears disputing the mission briefs? Half the frontliners get carried away and go too far - and the other half hesitate when they're given an order."

The two young gestalt leaders were staring at him in open amazement now.

"In case you hadn't noticed," Skyfire told them gently, "this is an army of civilians. Not only that, its structure and discipline has been strained almost to breaking point here on Earth. I'm not saying," he hurried on before Silverbolt could protest, "that it makes what happened earlier okay. But I think you're holding yourself, and them, to unrealistic standards if you think they can master in a year what half the Autobot army has taken vorns to get a grasp of."

Skyfire found his cube again and took a sip. It was a nice blend, not great quality, but pleasant enough.

"And I don't suppose anyone has mentioned any of that to either of you, have they?" he went on. "I know how hard it is for some of them to remember that not all of us have been fighting from the start. Even Optimus Prime - who should know better, in your case, at least."

"Hmm." Hot Spot finished his cube and toyed with it thoughtfully. "Now that puts a different spin on things. Are the twins really that bad? I'll have to remember that next time they start in on Blades..."

"Let's put it this way, I don't think Prowl was joking when he threatened to take out their transformation cogs and sell them to the humans last week." Skyfire saw Silverbolt almost-smile, felt a quick spike of relief. He hated seeing Silverbolt look so defeated. "But their sparks are in the right place. At least," he paused, frowning thoughtfully, "I assume so. You'd have to ask Ratchet, he's had to put them back together enough times..."

Laughter - from both of them, but Skyfire was watching Silverbolt. He hadn't lost the tension in his wings, but he no longer had that guilty, frustrated look in his optics.

"Oh, Primus," sighed Silverbolt after a moment. "I wish they weren't all in the brig. Or the med bay, in Fireflight's case." He hesitated, added quietly, "I've never had to hand them all over at once before."

"We'll keep you company," said Hot Spot without hesitation - perhaps understanding, better than Skyfire could, exactly how Silverbolt felt.

"You don't have to," Silverbolt protested at once.

"It's a nice night," Skyfire said, settling himself more comfortably on his rock, taking another sip of high-grade. "Which reminds me - did I ever finish telling you that story about Epsilon Seven?"