Working Title: Mein Engel

Rating: T

Pairing: Arcee/Knockout

Summary: Arcee and Knockout begin a dangerous game of trading favors. He's just a Con, so why does she feel so bad for using and abusing him?

Notes: This got too angsty too fast for me. But, I'm immensely proud of the fight scenes in this. Just saying …

"Welcome to KO Drive In, where every patty's a knock out. Can I take your order?"

"Yeah, hi. Does your KO special come with ketchup?"

"Yes."

"Oh. I don't like ketchup."

"So, one special, no ketchup?"

"Does it come with lettuce?"

Jack was about to strangle the skinny microphone's neck. "Yes. Everything in the picture."

"Oh. I don't like lettuce either."

"Jack. I got this," his supervisor said, putting on the spare headset. "Go take out the trash and sweep the lot. Maybe we can get out of here early."

Fat chance of that, he thought miserably. She always found something to keep him here until 2am on nights he was scheduled to close. And why was Missy Deavers – the woman who could grow a mustache better than most seniors – too chicken shit to go take out the trash and strike fear in the hearts of all the school assholes like she did her subordinates?

He went to the back door. Did he want to sweep up the litter first, then have Vince dump the trash on the lot? Or should he mix it up a bit and empty the cans and let Vince follow him around littering?

Welcome to happy Jasper, Nevada.

Worse still, it was a beautiful summer night, but Arcee had gone with Bulkhead and Bumblebee AND Raf and Miko on an energon scouting mission – in Panama. Stupid work!

He grabbed up a wad of black trash bags and went out the back door. Maybe Vince would be out racing already. But, he knew that didn't start until midnight when the cops changed shifts.

"Hey Darby!" He cringed. "I didn't know you were working tonight!"

He felt something hit his back but ignored it and walked around to the back of the building, stewing as he shook the lettuce and tomato off. But, he heard Vince get out of his car to follow him.

"So, is your bike in the garage?" Vince asked as he opened the first trashcan. "I meant to apologize earlier for backing into your baby. I seriously didn't see it there."

"No big," he shrugged. "It buffed out."

There was no point getting into it with Vince when every kid with a spoiler duct taped to their Cavalier was here pretending they were street racers and were being entertained by their hero's antics. Jack checked his watch. Still 45 minutes left until Vince left to run with the big boys. He'd rather be buried alive with Megatron.

"Hey, I've seen this car before," Vince said, distracted.

Jack was surprised by the nearly-civil conversation, and looked up from his trash. He felt his hair prickle under his shirt collar when he noticed what car Vince was looking at. A red Aston Martin that had no place in Jasper, Nevada's auto circus was parked under the neon light, freshly cleaned, waxed, and buffed to a glow – and empty as far as Vince knew. But, Jack could feel it looking at him smugly.

"This is that dick's car that cut me off last week. He ran Johnny off the road. No one's beat him," Vince said, more to himself than to Jack as he walked around the back of the car. "Thinks he's hot shit, I bet."

Jack watched in horror as Vince reached into his jean pocket for his car keys.

"Hope he's got good insurance," he grinned, selecting one off of the ring with the sharpest tip.

"No!" Jack shouted, tackling Vince to the pavement before he could come up with a better plan.

"What the fuck, Darby?!" Vince shouted, shoving him off.

"Leave it alone," he warned. "Just trust me. I know the guy."

"Friend of yours?" Vince snarled. "Even better."

Shit.

"Wait!" Jack defended, getting to his feet and stepping back before Vince could get up. "He … he's a doctor. My mom knows him. He'll ruin your life … with a lawsuit"

"So you'd better not snitch!"

"Vince, stop!"

He grabbed the bully's hands and grappled with him between the cars. Jack was aware of car doors opening behind him. Vince shook his hand free and threw a punch, but Jack dodged.

"Knock it off, asshole!" he shouted. "The manager put in cameras is all I'm saying – since motorcycles started getting backed into."

It made Vince pause and look around.

"You're bull shitting."

"Try me," Jack dared.

The gathering crowd had stopped a distance away at this new revelation. Vince glared at him again, but let him go.

"Fuck you, Darby. This isn't over."

He watched them all return to their cars, and Vince walked around the corner of the building. Jack sighed.

"Great. Just what this night needed," he muttered. "I get to clean out the grease trap AND get the shit kicked out of me for a Decepticon."

"I hope you're not waiting for a thank you," Knockout sneered.

Jack scowled, opening up a trash bag. "Wouldn't dream of it."

"Jack!" He cringed at Missy's voice and looked at his manager in the backdoor. "Some kid said you're back here trying to key cars?!"

"What?! No! He's lying!"

"Him and his friends said they all saw you doing it!"

"Missy …"

"You're fired. Get off the property., and don't come back."

For a second, he thought he was going to explode. But, he took a collective breath, and went to get his bike from behind the dumpster. This was the best thing that had happened to him all night, he realized.

He'd chained up his bike, but someone had taken off the wheels, and just the frame hung from the post. Jack rolled his eyes. No matter. Simple fix. He took out his cell phone and called Ratchet.

"Jack, I thought you were working," Ratchet reminded him.

"Yeah. I got off early," he said dismissively. "Someone stole my bike though. Could I get a bridge back to base?"

"Jack, this isn't your personal taxi service," Ratchet scolded. "I'm defragging it anyway."

"But, Knockout's here," he hissed, looking around the side of the dumpster to confirm the 'con was still there.

Ratchet muttered something unintelligible. "Well, just wait there for an hour, and I'll send one."

Of course.

"That's not an option," Jack growled. "I'll think of something." Thanks for nothing.

"Jack …" But he hung up on him.

Arcee didn't know why they were here again. Her and Cliff had already checked out this exact location less than a year ago. And, the signal was just as sketchy now as it was then, she thought irritably, smacking the side of her meter.

"Does that ever work?" Bulkhead smirked.

"No, but it makes me feel better."

And, the signal was gone again. She growled in frustration.

"Here. Let me try," he offered.

Bulkhead adjusted it.

"The only energon left here is under that big-afted canal and a million tons of concrete," she snapped.

"Well, I didn't put it there!" he defended.

She vented a sigh and turned away to inspect the wall of the quarry for the hundredth time. Tiny flecks of energon glittered in the moonlight on the floor of the quarry, where equipment had crushed it into dust over the decades.

"At least Bee and the kids are having a good time," he reasoned. "You wanna go ahead and catch up to them? I can finish up here," he offered. "Arcee?"

Had it really been so short a time ago? She looked back the way they'd come.

"It's kind of beautiful, don't you think?" Cliff asked. "Like we're not on Earth anymore."

"Mmm," she grunted noncommittally, engrossed in her scanner's readout.

The mech knelt to scoop up a handful of sand and watched it pour through his fingers. The heavier sand fell through, and the energon dust drifted on the air for a moment like a glowing fog. He looked up at her and smiled when he saw she was watching.

"Quit screwing around," she chided mildly. "The sooner we get done, the sooner I can get back to my berth."

"In boring old Jasper?" he doubted. "Look at this place, Arcee. Let's see what there is around here. We don't have slag to do back at base anyway."

"Cliff …"

"I never have you to myself, besides," he said more softly. "What do you say? We can find a nice place to recharge for a couple days. Just us."

She rolled her optics. Only Cliffjumper could imagine that there was an 'us.' Sure, he was funny and sweet, but he was just a big sparkling. She felt like she was his sitter more often that she felt like his partner.

"Maybe we could pretend we're not at war for a day?" he suggested. "Just a femme and a mech – alone."

She stiffened when he touched her back and spun to face him, stepping out of his reach. His face fell.

"Supposedly, we've been partners for two years, but you still treat me like an outsider. Arcee, I want in. I want to know you."

She vented a soft sigh, shuttering her optics a moment before meeting his again. Cliffjumper smiled cautiously, his hopes rising. It made her feel bad for never knowing what to say.

"Alright …" she surrendered, turning her scanner off. Cliff's smile faltered when she undid her pelvic armor plating and stepped close to him. "Just try not to take forever syncing up this time."

The mech slumped with defeat, sulking as Arcee kissed the corner of his mouth and ran her fingers behind the armor at his groin. He shuddered as she found his sensitive wiring, but he surprised her when he grabbed her wrists and gently moved them away. She arched a brow at him curiously.

"That's not what I want," he explained, clamping her plating back into place.

"Cliff, you just said …"

He caught her mouth with his with a soft kiss, catching her off guard. Arcee pulled away, looking at him confused. What in the Pit did he want? The mech brought a thick finger up to tap her forehead and grinned innocently. She blinked.

"Am I getting in there yet?"

"If you're asking if you're driving me nuts, then yes."

His smile slid to a half smirk. "I love you, Arcee," he stated. "Can you honestly say you don't feel something for me too?"

Her spark tightened in it's chamber.

"Cliff … You're my partner … and my friend," she said. But, it wasn't the answer he'd wanted to hear.

"Arcee? Arcee?"

Bulkhead nudged her, jarring her from her thoughts. She looked at him blankly.

"Welcome back," he joked. "Have a nice space odyssey?"

"Sorry." She shook her head at herself. "I'm just tired."

"Yeah," he said, switching off the scanner. "This wild goose chase has me worn down to the indicators too."

"Let's go find Bee."

She wanted to get away from this place, but even after she'd transformed and fallen in beside Bulkhead on the road, her thoughts haunted her no matter how many miles she put between her and the quarry.

"You sure you're okay?" the wrecker asked.

"Yeah. Fine."

And, he dropped it, simple as that. Arcee liked that about the green mech. A lifetime as a working-class construction bot had ingrained an 'if-you-say-so' attitude that kept things easy around him.

Everyone on her team was easy now. Ratchet was well beyond the age of caring about femmes. Optimus was a prime who just wanted her to be a soldier. And, Bee was young, happy, and energetic and naturally avoided Arcee's negatively charged energy field instead of seeing it as a personal challenge like Cliffjumper had from the beginning.

She'd told him the truth that night because he was her friend and partner. Cliff would've known she was lying to him if she'd just told him what he'd wanted to hear. He didn't know what it was like losing someone close to your spark.

And now, he never would.

Primus, she wondered every day if it would've changed anything if she'd answered him differently. He might not have volunteered to go to New York without her, for one. And, he wouldn't have become 'easy' like all of the others.

Cliff had still been her partner and her friend. He was still funny and sweet. But, he never touched her again when they were alone.

When they'd first come to Earth, he'd been relentless, but when she'd finally given in and let him on her, he sulked that she interfaced like it was a job and she never kissed him. So, Arcee kissed him after that, and he still wasn't happy. He made it a chore and wondered why she treated it like one!

But, when it stopped … Arcee hadn't been relieved. She missed it.

"Arcee, do you copy?" Ratchet's voice interrupted her thoughts.

"I'm here."

"I need you to return to base. I'm afraid Jack might be in trouble."

"I thought he was at work tonight."

"He was," Ratchet specified. "He called for a ground bridge because Knockout was there for those races. I was defragging the system at the time, and he wouldn't wait!" The medic sounded angry but worried. "Now, he won't answer."

"Bulkhead's here with me. Should I bring him?"

"Not yet. I don't want to overdo it if we don't need to."

"Bridge me back," she said, slowing to a stop so he could pinpoint her location. "I'll catch up later, Bulk."

"Call if you need me," he warned before taking off again.

Arcee could handle it. If the 'con was out peacocking before the races, he wouldn't want to mess up his paint in a fight.

Jack knew he was being followed. He could hear footsteps on the concrete behind him.

Why couldn't Knockout have just kidnapped him? At least Megatron would've talked to him like he was a human being. Granted, a human being that was an inferior race to Cybertronians, but still …

He felt his phone vibrate again in his pocket but thumbed it off. If he came back with a black eye, he hoped the old grouch felt guilty and everyone else would regret abandoning him on a Saturday night.

Besides, it might feel alright finally getting a few hits in on Vince, even if he didn't win.

His personal code of conduct (and his mom) had usually insisted he only struck out in self-defense. But, regretfully, the Darby's weren't unfamiliar with violence. His mom had a 12-gauge restraining order behind her headboard to prove it, and she'd 'encouraged' Jack to be on the wrestling team every year since he started junior high. Because it never hurt knowing how to break a hold if someone bigger and stronger than you wouldn't let go.

This was the first year he hadn't signed up since his extracurricular activities were now exclusively focused on keeping evil robots from destroying human kind. He smirked to himself. That would make an awesome patch for a letterman jacket.

"Hey, Darby." Someone tapped him on the shoulder. "Heard you lost your job."

Jack turned around to face him.

"Yep. Looks like my summer's wide open," he shrugged. "Don't know how I'm gonna fill the time."

"I've got a few ideas," Vince suggested.

"Yeah?" Jack smirked. "What are your plans, Vince? I mean, besides douche-rocket conventions and Justin Bieber concerts …"

The first punch glanced Jack's face, but he didn't return one any better. Vince had probably been in a few more fist fights than him, Jack would admit. He deflected an uppercut that would've made him puke and Vince hit him in the ear, knocking him off balance.

It wasn't easy being stupid as Vince found out when he backed off to gloat and regroup. Jack had had the advantage of watching a few debilitating haymakers be thrown with mechanical precision, and he felt Vince's nose and his hand exchange fractures. Both boys reeled away from each other, swearing in pain and surprise, then Vince recovered and tackled Jack to the pavement.

Vince still had both hands, but now Jack was in his element. Vince squirmed out of being pinned, but Jack got him in a lock, squeezing around Vince's armpit and neck. The bully tried to roll out of it, resulting in Jack having to throw him to keep from dislocating his shoulder. Vince recovered in time to give him the black eye Jack needed to guilt trip Ratchet, but Jack wasn't willing to go back to trading punches yet. He threw his weight into Vince again, and the pavement knocked the air out of him.

Jack grappled him into a sleeper hold so he could make a break for it, but that's when the ball bat hit him in the ribs. He choked out a startled yelp. Of course Vince couldn't fight fair, he reminded himself, wishing now that he'd called Ratchet back.

Someone kicked him in the side and off of Vince, then the asshole with the bat broke his nose and a tooth. He rolled onto his stomach on the asphalt and managed to get his knees under him so he could curl up around most of his important tender bits.

"Who's laughing now, shithead?" Vince snarled, kicking him in the side.

Jack couldn't believe it had escalated to this. He just wanted to make his point and be left alone, but these lunatics weren't going to stop until he was in the hospital.

He heard an engine rev, and squalling tires made the beating stop.

"Shit!"

"Look out!"

Jack was aware of a half a dozen people scrambling around him then running away.

Tires and breaks screamed to a halt so close Jack could feel the heat off of the engine that was idling just a couple feet away. He dared to look, prepared to see Bumblebee, but it wasn't Bee's red bumper that was inches from his face when he looked up.

"What the fuck?" he heard Vince mutter.

Sort of what Jack was wondering. Was this it?

The most tense moment of his life felt like it stretched out for an hour. Suddenly, the engine roared to life, echoing off of the buildings around them, and the asshole 'con spun his tires, inching toward Jack menacingly. Jack tried to get up, but moving anything made everything else hurt. Jack got to his hands and knees at least and crawled toward the sidewalk with Knockout toying with him close behind.

All the other kids had hightailed it since they knew someone somewhere was calling the cops about the noise. As suddenly as it started, Knockout killed his engine and jerked as his back tires stopped, neatly parallel parked at the curb. Since Cybertronian tires didn't melt like Crayola crayons under the equivalent of a couple thousand Earth horsepower, Knockout hadn't left a mark, and the car looked like it had been sitting there all night when the police cruiser rolled past.

Jack didn't feel like filling out a police report or getting sent to his mom in an ambulance. There would have been way more screaming and flipping out than he could deal with tonight. So, he leaned back on the parking meter behind Knockout until they turned the corner.

He cleared the blood and spit out of his mouth from his cut cheek and lip and missing tooth, and he tried to stem the flow of his nose with his shirt.

"I hope you're not waiting for a thank you," he grumbled when the lights were out of sight.

"Wouldn't dream of it."

Jack used the meter to climb to his feet.

"Would it have killed you to jump in a little sooner?"

"Considering they might have killed you if I hadn't jumped in at all, you shouldn't be complaining," the Aston growled. "I was rather enjoying the show, but I heard you tell your friends I was here, I couldn't let myself be framed by a bunch of adolescent mouth-breathers."

Jack stepped back onto the street, scanning the black pavement, then he bent and picked up his tooth.

"So, are you gonna kidnap me while you've got the chance, or are you still going to the Circuit?"

"You'd only drag me down," the 'con excused. "Besides, you stink like onions and animal fat. I wouldn't even tie you to my roof."

Before Jack had time to be surprised, the sound of a familiar engine made him look back down the road. Arcee swung around the corner at a reckless speed and gunned it toward them – or more specifically, toward Knockout. The mech quickly transformed, pulling his staff out of sub-space.

"Arcee, wait!" Jack yelled, but he wasn't dumb enough to try stepping between them.

The motorcycle launched itself and hit Knockout in the chest, throwing both of them back through some parking meters and a mailbox. The Decepticon kicked her off and over, and Arcee transformed to land on her feet at a run, blaster charged and ready. She dodged a shot from his cannon, but he caught her on the recovery with the prod end of his staff, sending her back and through the window of the old, empty hardware store.

"Arcee!"

Jack didn't hear an alarm, but there might've been a silent one. He jogged across the street, but his guardian burst back out, blasters blazing. Knockout strafed to the right as he came at her again. This time, he caught her with the door on his arm like a hatchet, slamming her between the neck and shoulder. She crumpled to the pavement but kicked his legs out from under him before he could get his prod around.

He grabbed her wrists to keep her from shooting him in the face. Arcee twisted her legs free and shoved him off, but the mech pulled her with him. She grappled for control of her arms and ended up straddling Knockout's waist.

"I like a femme that takes charge," he couldn't resist leering before revving his engine hard and loud beneath her.

Arcee stiffened visibly for half a moment, giving the 'con the opening he needed to sit up and slam his helm into hers. The femme was quicker to recover than he expected, and it surprised him when she forced their hands behind him and broke his grip on her blasters.

She jumped to her feet with Knockout in her sights.

"He didn't do anything!" Jack finally yelled, seeing his chance to intervene without getting smashed. "Vince and his buddies did," he explained when he knew he had Arcee's attention. "Knockout was just running them off after Vince tried to key his door."

She scoffed, not taking her optics off of the red mech. "Yeah. So he could throw you in his trunk," she reasoned.

"He would've caught me at work if he was going to. It's racing night."

"That's a pretty weak defense, Jack," she pointed out truthfully. "Knockout wouldn't help you, even if it was convenient for him."

"Don't you think that's a little pessimistic?" Knockout asked dryly, hands still up in submission.

"You're a Decepticon, aren't you?" she accused.

"And, that means I have no capacity for compassion?"

She smirked. "Your track record speaks for itself," she dismissed, getting anxious with the exchange.

"Oh please," he chuckled. "And, you're the perfect angel just because you're an Autobot? One that's never felt a tickle of bloodlust or wanted revenge …"

"Shut up," she warned.

"Arcee, please …" Jack coaxed. "Just this once. He saved me."

"Jack, are you forgetting?! It's Knockout. How many times would he have killed you by now if he could have?"

Jack slumped. He knew she was right, but it still felt wrong. "Come on, Arcee. I hear sirens," he pointed out. "We don't have the time, and you couldn't drag his dead chassis through a ground bridge on your own."

She met the mech's ruby optics, and he shrugged, grinning.

"I know what I'd do," he offered. "But, I'm just a Decepticon."

And, he'd be back to trying to kill them within the hour, but Jack was right.

"Frag …" she swore under her breath. "Get out of here before I change my mind."

Knockout got to his feet, still in her sights but wasn't in a hurry to follow orders, even though the police were just a few blocks away now. He bowed at the hip curtly to her blasters.

"Herzlichen dank, mein engel."

"That better not mean something shitty when I look it up," she warned hollowly.

The red mech only chuckled, turning his back to her, and they watched him transform and race away, tearing around the corner and out of sight.

"Not one word about this to anyone," she said sternly.

"About what?" Jack smiled.

Arcee shook her head, unable to keep from smiling too.

"Let's get you to the hospital, Rocky."

She lay on her berth, staring at the florescent lights on the dark ceiling of her room. She couldn't power down, and even worse, she couldn't decide why.

Seeing Jack hurt so badly had upset her. She was supposed to be his guardian, and she hadn't been there for him. He needed her and counted on her. What if something worse had happened? What if Knockout HAD kidnapped him and taking him back to the Nemesis? What if he hadn't intervened and Jack's assailants had gone too far?

She vented a sigh and tried to push the thoughts away.

Knockout, that slag sucker.

But, she still didn't know if she was more upset with herself for not being there or angry at the Decepticon for being there and doing her job. Then his mocking accusations hadn't helped. She never claimed to be faultless, but she could've been better. She coudl've been a better soldier, a better guardian, a better partner … a better friend.

Arcee found herself missing Cliffjumper again. He would've made a wise crack about the Con then try to tell her she wasn't as bad as she thought. He'd be wrong, but Cliff wouldn't care.

She shuttered her optics and tried to shake his memory away Cliff would've wanted her, and Arcee was surprised to feel a tickle of arousal at the back of her processor. She would've let him; she would've wanted him to. Cliffjumper used to caress her winglets and kiss her neck and shoulders, but that didn't excite her even now. So, why was she so hungry for him if that wasn't what she wanted?

She'd want to sync with the mech so fast it would leave him him weak in the knees and his engines hot from the effort. She shivered as static seemed to course through her core. Yes. She'd want to feel his engine against her panel and his claws digging into her to pull her closer to the vibration.

Claws? Her optics opened and she sat up. Guilt and shame made the air in her room feel thick and claustrophobic.

In the common area, it wasn't any better. Ratchet looked up from his microscope when she came out of the hall.

"Shouldn't you be recharging?" he accused more than suggested.

"What? Are you the only one allowed to burn a little midnight oil?"

"I'm old, and I don't usually have to worry about being ready to fight at any given moment."

Arcee had already walked to the entry ramp despite the medic's lecture. When she looked back at him, he hadn't moved from his work bench.

"I had a nightmare," she said truthfully. "I think I'm going to go for a drive and maybe stay at the Darby's"

The white mech waved her off dismissively. He knew she wouldn't listen to him once she made up her processor about something. He didn't care to know the details. Ratchet was easy.

The air had a chill in it even though it was summer, but the black asphalt had soaked up the blazing heat of the day and felt warm on her tires.

Jack was probably asleep by now, but at least she'd be there when he woke up. Impossibly, he'd looked even worse when she'd left him at the hospital entrance. Humans healed so strangely. June was understandably upset, even more so when she learned he might have been kidnapped by a Decepticon if Vince hadn't followed him.

Arcee had told Ratchet she'd found Knockout before he found Jack, but their fight had given Vince time to get Jack instead. Was she any better for lying, or was she just proving Knockout right again? Was she lying because she didn't want the team to know she'd let him go, or was it because she was ashamed the enemy had been there for jack because she hadn't been?

Arcee sped up, trying to outrun the thoughts or blow them away in the turbulence.

Jack would be fine, and no one would find out what happened. Even Knockout wasn't going to tell anyone he got away because she let him or that he helped a human. But, he would very likely boast that he'd gotten a rise out of her when she'd been on top of him.

"Scrap," she said out loud to the wind, and she sped up again.

No one would believe him, she told herself. Besides, if the right mech heard, he might question why his medic hadn't offlined her while she had her so close. Knockout was at least that smart, unlike certain soliloquy-prone seekers. Hopefully he was, at least.

She saw the lights of Jasper ahead and realized she was doing over 175. Way to stay low profile. But, none of the Jasper police cruisers were around according to their tracking devices.

They blue motorcycle made a pass through town. All was quiet and dark, even the circuit where Vince and his gang raced was silent. Not that she was disappointed, but she would've liked to see how much damage Jack had done for her own satisfaction. If it wouldn't have been proving Knockout right, she might've been up to setting 'The Bullet' on fire and pushing it over the train tracks. That corroded little lock nut was probably feeling pretty high and mighty right now.

Arcee drove away from the circuit before she talked herself into it and made a pass down Main Street. KO was closed, and the section of sidewalk her fight had busted up was taped off. The window was boarded over. It was going to keep Jasper PD busy for a while trying to figure out what kind of crash had happened here. If the city ever got the budgeting for traffic cameras, the kids might have to relocate.

The Darby's house was dark. June wouldn't be home for three more hours, so she had the garage to herself.

Arcee tried to open the door quietly, but no sooner than she'd let it back down behind her, the door to the house opened to reveal a sleepy-eyed Jack in his boxers and untied sneakers, wielding a street hockey stick.

"If I was a burglar, I'd be terrified," Arcee smiled from the dark.

Jack sighed with relief, turning the lights on.

"I was afraid it was Vince or his buddies," he said. "What are you doing out?" I thought you hated being cooped up in here."

"Couldn't sleep," she admitted with a shrug. "I figured I'd come check on you."

Jack gingerly touched his swollen, purple eye.

"It looks worse than it feels," he tried to assure.

But, with his shirt off, Arcee could see more bruises on his ribs and sides. His hand was in a cast, his left ear had been padded and bandaged, and the gash on the bridge of his nose had been butterflied shut.

"Don't feel too sorry for me. I intend to milk it for all it's worth with the ladies," he joked.

"Where I come from, battle scars are only sexy if the mech won," she pointed out, amused.

Jack waived it off. "If he wins the war, you mean," he smirked. "Vince may have won the battle but the summer is young."

Arcee rolled her optics. "I liked you better when you weren't pumped up on … testosterone," she said after Googling the human male equivalent. "How about you try NOT giving me a spark attack before school starts?" she chuckled. "Messing up once was bad enough."

Jack's smile sobered. "Arcee, you didn't mess up," he consoled. "I was the one that didn't wait on Ratchet."

"But, I should've been with you anyway."

"You can't be with me 24/7. Don't beat yourself up for doing your job. I'm fine."

"Only because Knockout was there."

Jack frowned thoughtfully. "That's what this is really about, isn't it? Letting him go?" he asked. "Or was it what he said about you doing bad things? Arcee, he was just trying to get in your head."

She hung her helm ashamed of feeling ashamed, as crazy as that sounded.

"Nobody's perfect, but nothing's ever as easy as black and white either. You're crazy if you think you've ever acted like anything but an Autobot," he added, laying a comforting hand on her bracer. "But, crazy or not, you're still my friend and my hero."

She wrapped a servo around him and hugged him gently. "I think you've got some kind of concussion," she smirked. "That's the sappiest thing I've ever heard you say."