A/N: Wow, this chapter took me longer than expected. I don't really like the way this one came together, and that was part of the reason it took me so long. I still don't like it, but I figured I kept it from you all long enough.

The song for this chapter is Bleeding Love by Leona Lewis. There's lots of love in this chapter, even if it's kinda hard to tell. ^.^

Thanks to Jazz Is My Lil Ninja, Sapphire-Serenity-Phoinex, freedom rings in a howl, and Faran PangkalHemat for adding this fic to their alerts and/or favs!

Bee4ever: They'll be fine. They always are. :p But Prowl had to get hurt there for Silvermoon to realize something vital to the plotline.

Kae88: He had to offline then, the bullet almost pierced his spark chamber... But it does help the love later...

Sapphire-Serenity-Phoinex: Exactly.

MaKayla McKinzie: Don't worry! Here, read on!

Silvermoon shuttered her optics tiredly at Bluestreak's latest cries. He'd been snuffling nonstop, ever since Prowl hadn't returned from the battle and she had. It was getting to the point to where she couldn't even focus on the data pads she was supposed to be doing to cover for Prowl. Her servo rested on Praxia, who was curled up on the desk next to her data pad.

"Where Pow?" Bluestreak almost screamed in between two cries. Venting, Silvermoon set down the data pad and held out her arms to the youngling. He stood on his wobbly pedes and toddled over to her. She lifted the mechling onto her lap and let him cuddle close to her chassis.

"Prowl got hurt in the last battle," she said slowly, letting Blue figure out what she was saying. "He's getting better with Ratchet."

"Pow wit Watchet?" he sniffed, his limited vocabulary straining the sentence. Chromia had taught him a few words while they had been away. Bluestreak had become slightly familiar with the medic.

"Yes. When he comes back online we can go see him, okay?"

"No! Swee now!" Bluestreak pushed away from her chest, surprising the femme with how much strength he had. He began to howl again. Silvermoon vented again, knowing pretty much nothing would get through to the mechling, except Prowl. Seeing as he was in stasis lock, it wasn't much help. Bluestreak hopped off her lap and curled up into a small ball on the floor, his tiny frame still wracking with sobs. Praxia jumped down and walked over to him, butting her nose into his side.

Thinking of Prowl in the med bay made the femme remember how she'd screamed when she'd seen Prowl's limp form at the battlefield. What could it mean? She wondered, setting down the screaming Bluestreak. Mulling it over for a second, it dawned on her.

No, she realized with rising horror. I have a crush on my best friend!? Prowl!? Why!? Thinking about it made the feeling make sense. She had felt this way for a while, but she hadn't known what the feeling meant exactly.

Bluestreak screamed again, making her feel the need to offline her audio receptors. "Bluestreak, please, could you quiet down? He'll be back!" she said softly. If anything, that made him cry harder. Venting the hardest she had yet, she stood up, making the chair scrape against the ground. She bent down and scooped up the howling mechling "Alright, that's it!"

This caused Bluestreak to stop crying and gain a scared look on his faceplates. He looked around fearfully. Silvermoon offered no explanation for her actions, instead marching from Prowl's office (making sure to leave Praxia safely inside), to the med bay. Bluestreak figured out where they were the moment the doors swept open. He started wriggling in Silvermoon's arms to be let down. She complied, letting how tired she really was be shown on her faceplates.

Ratchet looked up from welding the last of the minor wounds on Jazz shut to see this. Bluestreak ran across the floor on unsteady pedes and crawled up on the berth Prowl was stretched out on. The mech showed signs of recent weldings, and he was hooked up to several monitors. His optics were offline, and a monitor read that he was in a peaceful recharge. Bluestreak managed to get up to his mech creator-figure and curled up on top of Prowl's chest, right over his spark chamber.

"That was interesting," the medic commented, approaching Silvermoon.

"He wouldn't stop crying," she said, rubbing a servo over her faceplates tiredly.

"He must really like Prowl," the medic commented, setting down his welder and giving Jazz a once-over to make sure the mech was stable.

Silvermoon plopped down in a chair by Prowl's berth and vented. "Like no bot else," she replied. Ratchet came over to her and gave her a medical scan, ignoring her glare.

"Did you suffer any injuries that you know of?" he asked, looking at his results.

"Just blaster fire," she said, slouching and setting her faceplates in her servos. The medic could see she was fighting some inner turmoil, and left her alone. He headed back to his office, and the occupants of the room stayed in their positions for a long while.

She didn't know how long she'd sat there for, musing over her newfound feelings, but Silvermoon jolted out of her trance, lifting her helm from her servos when Jazz began to stir. The look on his faceplates broadcasted immense pain, and he gave a soft moan. "Ratchet!" she called, rising from the seat and running to Jazz's side.

The chartreuse 'bot came running from his office, wrench in servo. "What is it?"

She looked up from Jazz. "He's coming back online."

"Slag," he said, subspacing the wrench and walking over at a fast pace. "It's too early for that. His slaggin' self repair systems won't have had enough time to fix himself yet." Ratchet's servo moved to the drip that was hooked up to the saboteur, intending to infuse some medical stasis-inducing substance to the energon.

"Stop," said a soft voice near the door. Ratchet's servo hovered near the drip. He and Silvermoon turned to see Optimus Prime in the doorway.

"It's too early-" Ratchet started again, but Optimus cut him off, covering the distance between them in large strides.

"We need to know what Soundwave took from his mind. If he is in no life-threatening condition, let him online," the Prime ordered. Ratchet vented, but his servo lowered. Keeping his optics on the monitors for his vitals, Ratchet noted that Jazz sounded like he was in deep pain. He started to add some painkillers to the energon drip, but stopped when Optimus looked at him.

"They're only painkillers," Ratchet said. He continued when Optimus nodded.

Jazz slowly came online, and Silvermoon watched his servo go up to his helm.

"It feels like mah helm was run ovah by Megsy," he complained, onlining his optics. His optics trailed over the med bay around him, and he started to sit up, but Ratchet pushed him back down.

"Uh uh," he said. "You're not fit to move around yet. The only reason you're up is because Optimus wants to talk to you." Jazz looked at his leader after he heard Ratchet's words. His normally bright blue optics were dim to keep the lights from overheating his proccesor.

"Sho' thin'. Whatcha need, Prime?" Jazz asked, retaining his cool demeanor while rubbing his helm.

"What did Soundwave take from you at the battle?" Optimus asked.

"Uh," Jazz replied, offlining his optics to think. "The location a'... lemme think... Oh! Tha's it. The location a' the base fo' the femme's an' spahklin's.." he trailed off, optics growing wide. "...Slag." Silvermoon felt a growing sense of apprehension, and she looked at Optimus to see his optics grow slightly larger. He straitened up and turned to the door.

"Get some rest, Jazz," he said, before disappearing outside.

"Was tha' ah ordah?" Jazz asked uncertainly, looking at Ratchet. Silvermoon looked at the two mechs. Ratchet shrugged.

"I'm taking it as one," he said suddenly, flicking a switch to infuse the stasis-inducing medicine.

"No! Wait-" Jazz yelped. He didn't get to finish his thought, though, as his optics grew fuzzy, and his frame relaxed, falling back onto the berth. Silvermoon smiled, then turned to Ratchet.

"Will you keep an optic on Bluestreak for me?" she asked. "I need to see what Optimus is doing. Second-in-command stuff." She massaged her temple, still weary.

"I'll keep two on him, if I can spare them," Ratchet promised. She nodded and followed Optimus to the communications room.

"Blaster, open a line with the femme base," Optimus order, striding into the communications room with a pace that said he had a purpose. Said 'bot turned to his monitor immediately, not questioning his leader. The screen flickered on slowly, lighting up to reveal the waiting screen. Then it linked them through to the femme base. A 'bot that was clad in pink armor was standing in the view of the screen. She turned her helm to the screen and a bit surprised.

"Optimus?" she asked. "We aren't scheduled for a check-in for another two cycles."

"Elita," Prime bowed his helm in greeting, then jumped in on the conversation. "We were at a battle in Vos last solar cycle, and we received some horrible news. Soundwave hacked the location of your base from Jazz. You may be in immediate danger," Optimus summarized quickly. Elita paled a little. Optimus was aware of Silvermoon walking in then, and he presumed she would be filling in for Prowl, but the Prime didn't acknowledge her.

"What do you suggest we do? We don't have enough time to pull off a full-scale evacuation," Elita said.

Optimus pulled off some calculations and returned his attention to the femme commander. "Get everybot out that you can. The decepticons have been more lethal lately than they have been before. It's essential you get out now, while you still can."

She quickly nodded her helm, then turned to one side, giving some quick commands to a 'bot unseen to Optimus. The commander was interrupted by another femme rushing on-screen.

"Ma'am," the femme said urgently. "We're under attack!" Elita's optics widened.

"Slaggit!" she cursed. Focusing back on the screen, Elita said to Optimus, "If we don't make it out of this-"

"Do not say that," he cut her off. "You will, and we shall see each other again. I promise."

Her optics softened, and the two shared a silent moment. Then the whole building Elita was in shook, startling the femme commander. Her optics betrayed how scared she was, and she looked at Optimus for support. He gave her a soft smile, right before the screen exploded into a brilliant display of shades of orange and static.

"ELITA!"

Optimus stepped out of Skyfire's shuttle-mode and immediately scanned the wreckage of the femme base for any signs of life. All that greeted his scanners were empty sparkling and femme frames. Making his way to where he knew the destroyed communications room lay, the Prime made sure to keep an optic on his scanners for anybot else, but his main concern was finding Elita-1. To his relief, two signals were coming from the collapsed room that was his destination. Hurrying to the collapsed room, the Prime furiously dug through the pieces of ceiling on the ground, hoping to find Elita beneath.

His efforts were soon doubled by the help of Silvermoon, who had accompanied him on the journey. Together, the two 'bots lifted up fallen beams and pushed aside rubble, only to reveal the two similar frames that were still pulsing with life. The femme that was painted a deep cherry red, similar to Sideswipe's, looked up at Optimus. She was the one who was harmed the least of the two.

"Arcee," Optimus greeted in a monotone, much like Prowl's. She dipped her helm, then started to dig out her commander. With the help of the two femmes, Optimus was able to get Elita out quickly. He assessed the damage she had that he could see. She was leaking from too many places in her frame to count, and several pieces of metal were bent awkwardly. Her helm also had a rather large dent where some piece of metal had hit her. "I will take you to Ratchet, and you will be okay," he sad soothingly, making to pick up up to carry back to Skyfire.

"No, Optimus," she refused weakly, setting a servo on his arm. "I've got too much damage, and my spark chamber was crushed. I won't be online too much longer." Her optics flickered. She glance at the 'bot named Arcee quickly, and something seemed to pass between the two. The red femme turned and grabbed Silvermoon by the arm, dragging her gently away. Once the two could no longer hear the two commanders' words, Arcee stopped.

"Sorry," she said. "Elita wanted to have a moment alone with him."

"It's fine," Silvermoon said, looking back at the two. "Are they-?"

"Sparkmates? No. But they do have feelings for each other," Arcee summed up.

"Ah. You and Elita look alike. Are you sisters?" Silvermoon asked.

Arcee gave a curt nod. "We're all that we have left in our family. Elita, Chromia, and I."

Silvermoon nodded, choosing not to talk anymore. Arcee would probably want to focus on her dying sister, not meager attempts at small talk. Knowing this, Silvermoon looked back at Prime. Elita was positioned so she was leaning in her arms, resting her helm against his shoulder. He had his forehelm pressed to hers, and they looked deep into one anothers' optics.

Arcee frowned suddenly. "She's almost gone." Then the red sister took off, running back to her family member and leaping over the fallen debris. Silvermoon followed at a slower pace, letting the two 'bots that knew Elita say their goodbyes. She hesitated, making her way to their sides at the last possible nano-klik. She looked down at the offlining femme right as her optics faded to black for the last time.

Optimus made a keening noise that Silvermoon had never heard from another 'bot, and she shuttered her optics in respect.

A/N: Well then, that's the first and last we'll hear from Elita-1. Sorry, I'm not very good with her character, but I am fond of the Optimus/Elita pairing.

Silvermoon caught on to her feelings a lot faster than Prowl, huh? It's a femme thing. :p

And on a random note, did you know the plural of moose is meese? Yeah, it's 12-o-clock at night and I've had too much sugar. :p