There was a hand in his chest. Someone was touching his spark.

Had he just overloaded into blackout?

Was someone trying to kill him?

Why was everything so... foggy?

"-ay with me, Knock Out." A voice said distantly, and the hand began rhythmically squeezing. It made his mind a little clearer, made things start sliding sluggishly into focus. "Don't you dare leave me."

"Why are you making it sound threatening?" Another voice hissed. "If your EM field doesn't spook his spark into guttering, your squeezing might. What are you trying to achieve?"

"He's too far gone for those! Just let me do this." The first voice snarled in reply to the second.

"I'm sorry, I was under the impression that I was the CMO, not you, Wheeljack." The second said dryly.

Wheeljack? Wheeljack was touching his spark? They hadn't gotten to that point yet, had they? There was a rush of pleasure that warred with the all encompassing pain he felt. He didn't even care that someone else was in the room with them, Wheeljack was touching his spark, let that other mech watch.

"... Wheeljack?" The second voice asked in a mix of confusion and awe. So familiar. "Ease up, I think he's about to-"

"I know, Ratchet." Wheeljack growled. He was saying something else, but it was lost in the sudden rush of overload.

It hurt. Was it supposed to hurt? He could barely think, like his processor was damaged.

"-ing great." Wheeljack's voice broke through the post overload haze. "Just stay with me. Ratchet, you need to take over here."

"Already on it." A second set of hands was suddenly on his chassis. "I'm not sure how you knew that was going to work, but it did… somehow." The second voice muttered. Ratchet was it? "Knock Out, I'm going to need you to tell me if I'm hurting you. I have to fix the mess that is currently posing as your chest cavity."

He tried to raise a hand but it wouldn't work. Strapped down? Unresponsive? He flexed his vocalizer and let out a burst of static.

Elation and relief stroked into his field and he felt a hand briefly touch his own.

"Well, look at that. Guess you're tougher than that shiny frame of yours lets on, Red." Wheeljack sounded as happy as his field felt. "But don't push yourself. I'm gonna have the Doc plug in to monitor you, just give 'em a jab if something pains you."

Wait… Wheeljack was a doctor? No. That wasn't right. Wheeljack was a Wrecker. Before that though… something dangling at the edge of his processor.

::Hello Knock Out.::

Ratchet. Such wonderful bedside manner.

::Why thank you. It took me years to perfect. The war certainly helped.::

Ratchet could read minds?

::We're diagnostically linked right now. Do you remember what happened?::

Oh. That made more sense. Ratchet was a doctor, not a telepath. So, something had happened. What was it? Why was he in this state?

::That's right. Try to remember.::

It had something to do with Bumblebee. They were looking for Bumblebee?

::That's how it started, yes.::

Damn Ratchet and his constant eavesdropping. So, they had been looking for Bumblebee. He was on a mission? Oh yes, that's right. A mission involving-

Pain lanced through him and he arched off the berth. Body still not responding, spark pulsing in panic, claws flexing to reach-

::Knock Out! Calm down before you hurt yourself even more! You're going to be alright! You're not out there anymore, you are in the med bay! :: Ratchet was shouting. ::Of course I'm shouting! Next time, tell me if it hurts, don't try to attack me!::

"Wheeljack, please hold him down." Ratchet's voice spoken aloud was strained by calm.

"Got it." Wheeljack spoke very close to his audial. That was okay, good even. Strong hands on his shoulders, applying insistent pressure… It reminded him of that morning. He could remember that morning, in his hab-suite. Wheeljack cuffed to the berth, writhing and panting and overwhelmed-

::You're kidding me.::

Ratchet again?! What a nosey doctor. These were private thoughts!

::And I can hear and see all of them.::

Now Ratchet sounded sour… actually more bitter than sour. Not that he could blame Ratchet. The Wrecker was more of a catch than he had imagined.

"Wheeljack, you and I are going to have a long talk when this is done." Ratchet said. Wheeljack was silent, but his embarrassed field spoke volumes.

INSECTICONS! There had been Insecticons!

::That's it, focus on the mission.::

Mission? Bumblebee's mission. He had been on a mission. Missing, three days late for check in? The Commander wanted a small team to go find him. Arcee and himself. They were fast, and Bumblebee might have needed medical attention.

Ratchet wordlessly offered encouragement. Small zings of sensation moved through his chassis as the older mech's hands did something or other inside his chest cavity.

Something had gone wrong. Something had gone wrong with Bumblebee! He was shot!

::No, he wasn't. Otherwise, he'd be here on this table instead of you.::

But the shot had gone straight for the slowly moving former Scout. They were trying to reach the ship. Wait, the ship? Why was the ship there? He and Arcee had groundbridged in, hadn't they? And Bumblebee was moving so slowly. Hungry? Starving. Low fuel. Sluggish movements. An Insecticon had pursued. Fired at them-

"O-o-oh-oh n-n-no-no-no…" He didn't recognize it as his own voice at first, as laced with static and broken as it was. He felt Wheeljack jump and Ratchet's hands jerk as the older medic muffled a curse. "I-i-i-i-idiot!"

"I am inclined to agree with that. Anyone who pulls an Optimus Prime is an idiot in my books." Ratchet said bitterly. "What were you thinking, pushing Bumblebee out of the way and taking that shot?"

"O-o-o-ob-obviously like-like-like an Autobot-bot-bot." He tried rebooting his vocalizer, but more static came out. His optics were in rough shape when he brought them online, but he could dimly make out the shape of Wheeljack hovering over him and the figure of Ratchet bent near his chest.

Wheeljack wasn't speaking, but he didn't need to. Knock Out could read the Wrecker's expression and EM field like a datapad. He was angry, he was scared, concern was etched across his features very clearly. His mouth was turned down, accentuating those scars of his. He had Energon on one cheekplate and all up his arms. Charred marks up to one elbow, discharge from touching a spark while the mech it belonged to overloaded violently.

"N-Nev-Never t-took you f-fo-for an ex-x-x-hib-bitionist." Knock Out said, Wheeljack scowling at him.

"Don't make light of this." The Wrecker said, voice low. "You almost died, KO. You scared me half to death. We just got this slag figured out, and you go and try to clock out on me? You're in serious fraggin' trouble."

"I think you're BOTH in trouble." Ratchet snorted, still working. "Wheeljack, make yourself useful and fix this."

Knock Out watched as Wheeljack took what appeared to be his fuel pump, the Wrecker hesitating before leaving Knock Out's side.

::I hope you realize that idiot's in love with you.:: Ratchet muttered over the diagnostic link.

::I can see that.:: And could he ever. Knock Out had seen that expression on a mech's faceplate's before.

::Do I even need to point out that you're in love with him, too?:: Ratchet met his optics briefly before going back to work.

"S-sp-spoilers." Knock Out scolded. "R-r-r-rude."

"Not if you're only avoiding the truth." Ratchet countered. "Your spark's still not stable enough to put you under, if I will mute you if you continue being a moron."

"One fixed fuel pump. As per the Doc's orders." Wheeljack said, moving back to the med berth.

"And this won't be exploding, correct?" Ratchet glanced at the Wrecker, who held up his hands.

"No bombs." He stated.

"... Engineer." Knock Out murmured, drawing Wheeljack's attention. "N-not a d-d-doctor, b-but an engineer-r-r."

"S'right." Wheeljack gave his shoulder a squeeze.

"You k-k-killed that s-sn-sniper." Knock Out felt the Wrecker's field contract sharply.

"You mean the sniper that was systematically murdering any remaining Autobot engineers?" Ratchet snarled, something pinching within Knock Out painfully and making him vent. "You bet your battered red chassis he did. I just wish it had happened sooner."

"You and me both." Wheeljack lamented, looking away.

"Y-you bec-c-came a Wr-Wr-Wrecker to es-s-scape the sniper." Talking was becoming easier. Knock Out reset his vocalizer a few more times with less static escaping. He tried to reach for Wheeljack when the Wrecker's field returned with much turmoil shifting in it, but his arms were strapped down.

"I became a Wrecker to avenge my friends." Wheeljack said with a hint of ice and venom, but then there was a hand in his briefly. "Hoist and Grapple. Highbrow, Brainstorm… Perceptor. I lost track of Percy during the war, but I bet the outcome was the same. They woulda had me too, but I… I got 'em first. Got picked up by Kup and taken for trainin' after that. Somethin' about the old dog bein' impressed with how I beat that piece of slag to death with my bare hands."

"Thank Primus all that Wrecker business didn't wipe out your engineering training or there would have been no way to save Knock Out. I'm grateful you didn't forget how to do more than make things blow up." Ratchet said, the light from his welding torch reflecting off his face.

"I unders-stand a little b-better now." Knock Out said softly.

Wheeljack looked down at him, his cyan optics dim with pain.

It was another few hours before they finished the task. Ratchet encouraged conversation between the Wrecker and the ex-Con because he didn't want Knock Out falling asleep.

The pain was bad at times. At one point, Knock Out almost purged, but managed to fight it back so he didn't make more of a mess than he already had. In the end, with the physical damage fixed, all that was left was trying to fix the red grounder's spark.

"You suffered a great deal of trauma." Ratchet said as he mopped up the solvent on his hands. "We should probably give it a few days to recover on its own, but I'm concerned about memory fluxes during recharge overtaxing it."

"Nightmares?" Knock Out scoffed. "This is hardly the first time I've been shot."

"First time you've been shot protecting someone else." Ratched smiled slyly. "Bee will more than likely wish to thank you."

Shifting to try and get comfortable, Knock Out ex-vented. "Yes, I'd imagine so." He murmured, feeling a little uncomfortable. The details were still very hazy, and he couldn't think of a reason he had risked his own life for Bumblebee. It wasn't his style. Usually battle had him running for cover, and his medic coding had been dampened during his service with the Decepticons. They had no room for mechs with bleeding sparks.

"I'll recharge here with him." Wheeljack offered. "Keep an optic on him. We could even stay linked so I can be alerted to any fluxes Red might have."

"You're not recharging anywhere near me unless you go and scrub that filth off of you." Knock Out frowned furiously at him and the Wrecker rolled his optics before moving to do as demanded.

Ratchet was glaring at him. Glaring at them. Knock Out offered him an arched brow and a nervous smile. Wheeljack glanced over, then started doing his best impression of a turbo-fox with its tail between its legs.

"Absolutely NO interfacing until I'm certain it won't make Knock Out's spark gutter!" The medic shouted. "And if Ultra Magnus isn't aware you two are fraternizing, TELL HIM. Or I will."

"Ratchet!" Knock Out protested.

"C'mon Doc!" Wheeljack growled. "It's none of his fraggin' business!"

"Don't call me that, Wheeljack, I swear I will rearrange your face while you recharge." Ratchet snarled. "It IS Ultra Magnus' business considering the two of you are officers! We have laws and rules for a reason! It can only go one of two ways… either it stops, or it gets serious."

Arcee came to see Knock Out later that day, and while he was incredibly fatigued, the medic was eager to learn more details of what had happened.

"You and I bridged in." The femme said, sitting next to his berth and nursing a pilfered cube of high-grade. "The place was infested and Bee's signal was faint. He had been boxed in and had taken cover, but he ran out of fuel two days before."

Knock Out reached up to pinch his nasal bridge with a short ex-vent. "Why didn't he check in sooner?"

"The hive had a damn dampener field in place." Arcee's mouth twisted downwards. "The Insecticons had found it and set it up somehow. He couldn't check in, but he had managed to get a beacon up above the field and that's how we found him."

"How many did you take on?" Knock Out asked, his own cube of high-grade mostly empty and growing warm in his tight grasp.

"Not enough." Arcee said with a hint of regret. She gave him a searching look. "You didn't hesitate. When we found Bee, you gave him some of your own Energon and supported him while we fled. The dampener meant we couldn't call for a bridge… and that's when Wheeljack showed up."

"He wasn't part of the extraction team." Knock Out smirked. "But since when does a Wrecker let things like orders deter him?"

"Thank goodness he came. I don't think any of us would have made it back if he hadn't." Arcee wrapped her arms around herself and lowered her optics. "I could hardly believe he was in any shape to fly considering how slagged he looked at the morning meeting."

Knock Out managed to keep the flash of guilt and surprise out of his field at that. So, it hadn't gone unnoticed that the Wrecker looked effectively overcharged during their meeting…

"I suppose he's not much of a morning person." He said in a neutral tone.

"Bulkhead says he wasn't stupid enough to get into the high-grade before duty, and Bulk's no liar. He wasn't telling me the whole story though." Arcee's field was almost expectant. "Any ideas? You're the doctor."

"I am indeed." Knock Out lifted his cube and drained the tepid remains of his high-grade to avoid answering right away. "He must really, really not be much of a morning person?"

"Uh huh." Arcee arched a brow.

"So did I really shove Bumblebee out of the way, or did that Insecticon have poor aim?" Knock Out asked, setting his empty cube aside.

"Oh, you definitely pulled an Optimus." Arcee sounded amused, though Knock Out wasn't sure if it was because of his actions or because of the hasty change of subject. "The shot came from behind. You spotted it in time, shoved Bee aside and took the shot right to the chest. I was sure you were a goner, but Wheeljack took out the pursuers and Bee and I got you to the ship. If it weren't for Jackie doing a fast patch job on your major lines and keeping you from bleeding out, you and I wouldn't be having this conversation."

Her hand seized his and squeezed. A grateful but not quite affectionate gesture.

"And how's Bee now?" Knock Out ignored the touch of static in his vocalizer, resetting it and looking away before returning the squeeze and pulling his hand free.

"Recovering. He'll probably come by tomorrow to talk." Arcee said.

"When he's back on his feet, he owes me some much needed detailing." Knock Out smiled and met her optics, Arcee rolling hers in an unimpressed manner but flicking amusement at him through her field. "And how about you, two-wheeler? When are you going to let me pretty you up?"

"Do I come across as that girlie?" Arcee asked, folding her arms.

"Don't think you can hide that feminine side from me, Arcee. I see through your cool exterior." Knock Out poked her shoulder with one claw and she made a noise of disgust. "And if you want me to keep that to myself, I definitely will."

"I should let you rest." Standing, Arcee stretched. "Hey Knock Out?"

"Mm?" Looking up, the Aston Martin gave the femme an inquisitive glance.

"Take care of yourself, alright? You're part of the team now. You don't have to do this alone." Her hand touched his shoulder, sliding away as she turned to leave with a softly murmured good night.