The barrage of gunfire lasted only for a second. Jazz ducked, snapping his weapons into place and firing off a few shots of his own at the now-retreating form of Starscream, the cowardly Decepticon having transformed into his jet mode and high-tailing it in the other direction without even flicking a sensor back to see if he hit anyone. Optimus did not bother firing at the Seeker, saving the fight for another orn and choosing instead to try to shield Ratchet and Ironhide.

"Is everyone all right?" Optimus asked, wiping the energon away from a small scrape on his forearm where one of Starscream's rounds had grazed him.

"Fraggin' coward," Jazz muttered quietly, still glancing in the direction that Starscream had gone. Then he flipped his visor up and turned to Optimus. "Didn't get me, though. I guess that counts for something."

Optimus nodded, then turned toward Ratchet and Ironhide. "Ratchet?"

"I'm fine," the medic replied, his own attention focused on Ironhide, "but I think he may have hit Ironhide."

Ironhide glanced up then from where he had been staring at the floor, one hand pressed tightly against his side as he backed up to the wall and leaned heavily against it, shuttering his optics and drawing in a sharp vent of air.

"Easy, now." Optimus stepped toward the weapons specialist, seeing if Ironhide would object to him taking ahold of his arm. When he did not, Optimus used that to assist Ratchet in lowering him to the ground.

Ironhide remained non-verbal through it all, prompting Ratchet to try to get him to say something, anything, that might clue them in to what he was thinking or feeling. He started with a very simple, "Ironhide, are your diagnostics functioning?"

A few seconds passed and Ratchet thought that perhaps Ironhide had not heard him, but then the black mech shifted and opened his optics. He cast a quick glance at Ratchet but then averted his gaze to where the injury was, lifting his hand to reveal a brightly-stained palm. More energon was already beginning to trickle down his side, the tiny rivulets flowing freely now that the pressure that had been stopping them was gone.

Ratchet cursed under his breath, flipping out his medical scanner from his forearm and quickly running a sweep over the area. Optimus continued to hold Ironhide's other arm and Jazz watched from a distance, seeing no reason to get too close to the injured warrior when Ironhide had already made it abundantly clear that he was not comfortable with the silver mech's presence.

"It burned through the armor, but it's not life-threatening," Ratchet announced, putting his scanner away and encouraging Ironhide to put his hand over it again. "Keep some pressure on it."

Jazz cocked an optic ridge. "You're not gonna weld it?"

Ratchet shook his head. "I can't weld it without a numbing agent. It would be too painful."

"You don't have your kit?"

"They took everything I had in subspace. I knew they would so I didn't bring it."

Jazz tapped his foot on the floor, obviously contemplating something. "Okay. Where can we find what we need?"

Ratchet thought about it for a moment. "I would say the supply room. There's the least chance of anyone seeing us, and it should have everything we need."

"Jazz," Optimus asked over his shoulder, the silver mech behind him, "do you see a supply room on your map of the facility?"

The hallway was silent as Jazz accessed the information. "Yeah. There's one on the fifth floor—"

"Just do it," Ironhide interrupted Jazz, though he was looking at no one in particular.

Everyone glanced at Ironhide, those three short words being the first to escape his vocoder since he went silent after telling them about Jazz's past history. Ratchet shifted slightly from where he was kneeling on the smooth metal floor, addressing Ironhide first even if he had no idea what the weapons specialist was referring to.

"I'm sorry?"

"Just do the weld. Without the numbing agent," Ironhide clarified, looking up to meet Ratchet's optics. The black mech looked tired, but the tiniest hint of that self-confidence that Ratchet remembered so well from him seemed to have seeped back into his demeanor. He was not afraid.

Ratchet studied him carefully. "I'm afraid I can't ethically do that given the current circumstances. If things get worse, then perhaps, but not now."

Ironhide seemed to accept that, though he said nothing in response. Ratchet turned to Jazz.

"Jazz, I'm sending you the specifications of exactly what we need. Do you think you could get it from the supply room and bring it back here? Ironhide shouldn't be moving around. It wouldn't be good for him and a trail of energon will certainly attract attention."

The silver minibot nodded. "I can do that, Ratch." Then he turned to his leader. "Optimus, I assume you're staying here in case any 'Cons show up?"

"That is correct, Jazz," Optimus replied. "However, notify Prowl of the situation and make sure he is in a position to assist you should it become necessary."

"Will do. I'm sure Prowler's getting bored out there by now anyway," the minibot jested as he turned to walk away. Then he waved a hand in farewell. "Wish me luck."

"We always do, Jazz," Optimus replied. "Be careful."

"Aren't I always?" Jazz responded from halfway down the corridor, his voice already sounding distant.

Ratchet snorted at that, although it was unlikely that Jazz heard him since the silver mech had already transformed and was quickly disappearing down the hallway in his light and agile vehicle mode. Jazz's definition of 'careful' may have been nothing like Ratchet's, but even the medic had to admit that Jazz was nothing less than a master when it came to getting himself out of seemingly impossible situations. It was the perfect skill for a mission like this and Ratchet was immensely grateful that Jazz had decided to come along for it.

Now, all that was left to do was wait for Jazz to return…

/* * */

Time passed quietly. The hallway they were in was certainly low-traffic, and it seemed that Starscream did indeed wish for them to escape unnoticed.

No alarms went off. No intruders came. All in all, it was as if this entire section of the base was completely devoid of any other mechs. Optimus shifted his weight, while Ratchet merely cast his gaze back to Ironhide again. Ironhide had shuttered his optics a little while ago, but whether it was to recharge or just rest, Ratchet did not know. It did not really matter anyway, since there was nothing that the black mech needed to be aware of right at that moment.

Ratchet however was keeping a close optic on Ironhide's most recent injury, one of many that the weapons specialist simply did not need. Ratchet did not expect the damaged lines to fully seal themselves anytime soon, but he was a bit concerned that they did not seem to be shunting the flow of energon at all. It could mean that there was something wrong with the weapons specialist's self-repair program or another higher-functioning system.

Ironhide had not had that problem before, and Ratchet was already running through a mental list of possible causes and trying to determine which was the most likely given the events that had transpired...

Suddenly, alarm bells started going off in the hallway, the already dim lights darkening to an eerie shade of red. Ratchet and Optimus froze, the blue in Optimus's armor now appearing black whereas the medic's armor looked red everywhere, and Ironhide unshuttered his optics, his appearance largely unaffected by the change in lighting.

"Jazz," Optimus transmitted over the comm link, shifting just enough to face slightly more toward the adjacent hallway, "what is your status?"

There was a long pause and Ratchet tensed, not realizing that he was holding in an anxious vent of air as he waited for Jazz to answer. Ironhide must have noticed however, because he shifted uncomfortably despite the fact that he was not aware that anything was being said over the Autobot comm channel.

"Jazz, report," Optimus tried again.

"Frag it all," Jazz finally replied. "I tripped the alarm."

Ratchet had never been so relieved to hear Jazz's voice, but he was still concerned about what Jazz had said. "Jazz, do they know where you are?" the medic asked.

"At the moment, yeah," the minibot replied, "but I'll be long gone by the time they get here."

"All right. Get back here now."

"I'm already on it," Jazz responded. "Give me about five breems."

"Understood." Ratchet cut the connection, glancing anxiously at Optimus. And judging by the look on his leader's face, Optimus was just as concerned as he was.

"Prowl," Optimus sent over another transmission, looking away from Ratchet, "we need to make a change of plans..."

Ratchet shifted his attention back to Ironhide, trying to think of what he was going to say since the weapons specialist was doubtlessly wondering what was going on. But rather than looking back at him like the medic expected, Ironhide merely kept his optics lowered and he did not make any move at all. That was when Ratchet noticed that that trickle of energon from Ironhide's side seemed to be getting worse.

Either that, or Ironhide was getting fatigued trying to keep pressure on it.

"Here, let me help you."

Ironhide did look up as Ratchet put his hand over Ironhide's, but then he shifted his gaze back to the floor as Ratchet put pressure on it. He was definitely tired, that much was easy to see, and Ratchet idly wondered when the last time Ironhide had had a decent number of recharge cycles was. Chronic fatigue was not normal and he should have snapped out of the aftereffects of any sedative by now.

Ratchet knew that he himself needed a good recharge as well, but unfortunately they were a long way from home and it was not going to happen anytime soon.

"Ironhide," Ratchet asked, still hoping to get something out of the weapons specialist, "how are you feeling right now?"

Ironhide had closed his optics, and he sighed before answering, "I don't know."

Optimus and Ratchet shared a glance before Ratchet tried again to encourage the black mech to communicate. "Could you describe it at all, just generally?"

Ironhide still kept his optics closed. "I don't want to talk about it right now."

Ratchet said nothing to that. While Ironhide had not been rude per se, he had made clear that he did not wish to talk.

Optimus said nothing either, and while Ratchet might have otherwise been tempted to take offense at the weapons specialist's dismissive behavior toward those trying to help him, he had to remember that Ironhide was not a very talkative mech even under good circumstances and right now he was in pain and surrounded by mechs whom he only knew as strangers. Had their situations been reversed, Ratchet probably would have been less than civil.

It was funny to think that such a trigger-happy Decepticon could actually be pretty good at keeping his cool. Why he had ever joined the Decepticons, Ratchet had no idea...

Just then, a faint noise from somewhere down the hallway forced the medic out of his idle thoughts, reminding him of where he was and making sure he did not forget just how volatile their situation had become. It was sheer luck that no Decepticons had stumbled across them yet.

Optimus carefully let go of Ironhide's arm, giving the mech some time to adjust before he rose to his full height and armed one of his weapons. "Ratchet, stay here."

Ratchet blinked in surprise before opening his mouth to protest. "But, Optimus—"

"Stay here," Optimus repeated, leaving no room for debate. "I need to verify that there is not a Decepticon threat. And if there is, they need not know that there are three of us."

Ratchet did not like it, but he trusted his leader's judgment. "Fine. But if you leave me stranded here without backup, I'm not letting you hear the end of it until we get back to Iacon."

Optimus smiled a little at that. "Very well, Ratchet. You have my word that I will not leave you stranded."

"Good. Don't forget it." Ratchet had to add that last bit, mainly to try to quell his own nervousness. "And for Primus' sake, please try to get back here in one piece."

"I will do my best," Optimus assured him. Then the flame-patterned mech turned and left, walking to the end of the hallway before carefully disappearing around the corner. For being a rather large mech, Optimus was certainly skilled at moving around quietly.

Ratchet watched the hallway for a second longer, then he turned to Ironhide.

The weapons specialist seemed a bit more alert now, glancing in the direction Optimus had gone with a curiosity that somehow reminded Ratchet of a vigilant cyberdog.

The kind that would tear you apart if you so much as stepped foot on its territory.

"Ratchet," Ironhide spoke then, looking away from the corridor and toward Ratchet, "what's… what's in Iacon?"

"That's where we reside," Ratchet explained. "Our base of operations is there."

"The Autobot base?" Ironhide asked.

Ratchet nodded. "That's right."

"But I'm not an Autobot," the weapons specialist keenly pointed out, apparently having picked up on enough of what Starscream said.

Ratchet noticed energon seeping out from between his fingers. "No, you're not," he answered simply, not wanting to complicate things but also hoping that Ironhide would continue seeking out answers to the things that were unclear to him.

"Then why do you want me to go with you?" Ironhide asked.

"Because," the medic replied, "you belong with us."