Thank you all for your patience! Since this story had gotten the most reviews for a single chapter – and they continue to trickle in, I decided to resurrect it and spent all of my effort for Nanowrimo concocting a plotline. (Unfortunately, it's not 50,000 words. *shrugs*)
Now, for all of you who read this far and are dying for more Arcee x Smokescreen, I present … a LONG-ass Cliffjumper flashback!
Happy New Year!
:D
"Talking."
Commlink talking
PERSONAL TEXT MESSAGING
She hadn't had any wild disillusions that the war she'd be fighting in would be clean and fair, but she never got used to the sight of the mangled frames that came to the infirmary or the unsettling idea that there were those out there who would do things like that for the thrill of it and sadistic pleasure even if there hadn't been war for an excuse.
Even more sickening was the fact that the Cons primary targets were places filled with the defenseless injured and dying they'd put there. Strategically, it made sense – especially when such a place just happened to be the closest Autobot infirmary to Kaon. But, it didn't help her opinion of those enemies any.
Another shell hit the defense field, shaking the compound and making the lights flicker in the repair hall. It was worse in the barracks, making her captain's orders to get some recharge pointless. At least here there was light. Until they could get another tanker of energon in for the generators, the doctors and medics would be the only ones afforded such luxury.
If they couldn't get an armored transport past the Cons, she wondered how the wounded kept finding their way past enemy lines so easily.
Arcee leaned back against the wall and looked around. Other soldiers had the same idea and were slumped in half-recharge against the wall. At least if the Cons managed to break through, there would be a sizable last line of defense around the doctors and wounded.
Now, if only she was exhausted enough to slip into recharge with the cries and groans and shouts of doctors over the equipment.
Her and a few others looked up as a group of battered mechs burst through the side entrance carrying a dripping tangle of conduit and charred armor.
"We need help over here!"
Arcee flinched inwardly. Didn't they realize everyone made that same demand?
One looked up from his patient – Vaccine, a medic she often talked with over energon rations. He was as worn down as everyone else here, but having transferred from the front line not long ago, he was taking the interruption a little more in stride than the Iacon doctors who were ready to snap.
"Put him with the others," Vaccine said, pointing. "A nurse will …"
But a hand cannon in his faceplate interrupted his instructions and made Arcee jerk to attention, bringing her blasters up.
"Stand down!" she shouted, rousing other soldiers behind her.
But, the armed mech was oblivious, optics trained on Vaccine.
"Shoot me if you want. But, fix this fragger first!" he demanded. "Gamma-7 is still standing because of his dumb-aft heroics, and I'm not letting him offline waiting for repairs!"
Vaccine regarded the injured mech placidly, servos raised.
"Wouldn't fate be a glitch if you shot the mech who could save him?" he pointed out.
The angry mech didn't humor him with a reaction.
"Lower your weapons, and put him on the table."
The mech visibly relaxed as he watched the hero be laid out. Arcee wondered if he'd be punished. The Autobots couldn't really afford to lose any fighters, and war made everyone do crazy slag.
"Nurse!" Vaccine called as he began removing mangled armor.
None answered his call. They were too leery of the mech with his blaster still out and watching the medic work.
"I need help," Vaccine clarified, but still they hesitated.
Unable to watch her friend flounder alone any longer, Arcee stepped forward.
Vaccine met her optics and sighed. "I guess beggars can't be choosers – especially at gunpoint." But, he smiled at the femme.
"What do you think?" she asked as he began to clean away the worst of the melted lines and sheared wiring.
In her new professional opinion, what had been left on the operation table couldn't even be used for spare parts. His arm had been lost, his chest plating crushed in, and his spark casing was cracked open enough that she could see the brilliant blue glow fighting to stay alight within. His faceplate was snarled scrap, half of the jaw missing and one good optic was wide and directly reflected his spark's struggle as he fought to ventilate.
"Not good," Vaccine admitted, shaking his helm.
He took her servos and directed them were he needed to keep pressure, but even as lines were cauterized to slow the loss of energon and emergency coolant was hooked up to pull the heat away from the mech's smelting-hot core, he was fading.
"Well … damn it," the medic muttered, changing settings on the life support quickly.
"Is there anything I can do?"
At first she thought he hadn't heard her.
"Talk to him?" he finally suggested, grasping at straws as he pressed another hypo of medication into the main fuel line to the mech's spark. "Give him something to focus on." He glared at an unfavorable readout.
What could she say? She didn't know him.
"Stay with me. Can you hear?"
Arcee gently grabbed a sensory horn on his helm and made him meet her optics. It looked so vacant.
"Listen to me, Soldier," she tried ordering. "You can't go offline in an infirmary. Not after all the slag you went through to get here. Stay online!"
Damn it.
Arcee guessed he had been a handsome, deep-chested mech. It didn't hurt she was a softie for the veterans. She hated to see them go offline in a cold berth, away from their teams, howling at nightmares, and vapid from the drugs and energon loss.
"Keep fighting, Soldier. We need you."
The optic dilated, and Arcee thought he saw her.
"Stay with me," she insisted again more softly, almost a whisper.
She found the blackened metal of a thick finger and his servo tightened around hers. It was a struggle not to cry, but she forced a smile for him.
"Slag," Vaccine vented with relief. "His spark's stabilizing. I need med-grade!" he shouted over his patient.
"Heads up!" Another doctor tossed him a bag automatically.
"You're going to make it," she promised. "Everything's going to be fine."
The doctors, medics, nurses, guards – everyone was trained to tell the patients that.
She saw the blue optic soften and focus on her again. She smiled, and it shuttered halfway.
"Here," a nurse said, coming up behind her. "I can help Vaccine. Go ahead and get some recharge."
His servo tightened around hers, and the optic widened again. He tried to move his jaw to speak, but it only ignited a small shower of sparks.
"No, no!" Arcee insisted quickly. "It's okay. She's going to help you."
He let go to touch his throat, and her spark clenched.
"Take it easy," she said, stepping away. "We'll be able to talk later. Okay?"
It was a lie, but what else could she say? What else could she do?
Finally, she let herself be shuffled away from the table. Before she could think more on the matter, another mortar shook the building making the lights flicker erratically then go out. A wave of confusion and panic swept through the repair hall. Doctors and nurses turned on their headlights to see their work, but that didn't do anything to help those with life support systems.
Arcee?!her captain's voice came in through her commlink.
Was it the power plant?she commed back, already moving toward the exit.
Negative. The fuel supply line's been broke. I need you to get a squad together to escort a mechanic down to it.
Copy.
She really wished she'd gotten some recharge now instead of playing doctor. It hadn't sounded like it would be complicated, but it took close to four solar-cycles. The Cons had collapsed the access tunnels, so they'd had to go topside and defend the engineers and grunts as they dug out the break in the line, THEN they had to keep the Cons off of them while the line was actually fixed.
When she finally had a moment to think for herself, she had thought for sure the red mech had offlined. He'd needed pumps and stabilizers and filtration, and the doctors would have abandoned him to help patients that could actually be helped. It was harsh, but this was war.
Arcee tried not to think about it. Getting attached to patients would only end up frying one's processor.
Despite being worn down to the indicators, her recharge still only came in fits and spurts no thanks to the Con's seemingly doubling their efforts now that they thought the shield was still down. Eventually, she gave up and traded patrol shifts with Tracks so she could get away from the sounds of the wounded at least.
Patrol seemed to be more for the doctors' and patients' reassurance than having any real military purpose. It was something recovering soldiers were assigned to and supposedly frail and delicate little femmes who's sire had pulled every string and greased every servo to keep his stubborn daughter out of danger when she ran away and joined the Autobots instead of evacuating.
Any real danger – at least anything that something could be done about – was taken care of by the Elite Guard posted all around the infirmary. If a Con got past their perimeter with a bomb or deactivated the shield, they were all as good as scrap, and there wasn't slag they could do about it. So, Arcee's job on patrol was to sweep the rooms and hallways for explosives and shine her light in any suspicious-looking shadows.
They could recharge safe and sound tonight. There wasn't even a glitch mouse scuttling around in the dark – but then again, would any sane life form be in this place if it had a choice?
She stepped into another old meeting room that had been cleaned out to hold more injured in recovery. It was dark and silent, so Arcee could assume these soldiers were locked in stasis until they'd healed or until their parts were needed. She resisted the urge to shiver at the idea of such a fate and began scanning the ventilation ducts.
Something began tapping – or maybe more like clanging. A broken vent fan wasn't the end of the world, but if she felt like scrap and was trying to recharge, she'd want it taken care of. It didn't seem to be coming from any of the vents. Arcee swept her light over the ceiling then over the occupants of the room.
"You …?" she gasped.
The red mech slumped back to his berth with a thud and pulled his servo back onto his lap from where he'd been hitting the frame of his berth with it. The rest of his arm and jaw and his bad optic had been cleanly removed. His ruined chest plating was gone, so his spark could be easily accessed.
Arcee approached him carefully. How in the Pit had he survived?
"You made it." She whispered smiling down at him. "But … how?"
He turned his helm to follow her with his good optic as she stepped up to the side of his berth. His servo lifted and he touched the part of his neck that had been covered by his jaw.
"Oh. You still can't talk."
Arcee picked up the datapad attached to his berth and read down the long list of injuries. A fried voice box was near the bottom of the list. An explosion had caused most of them. According to a report, he'd been trying to deactivate a bomb in the tunnels under Gamma-7. He'd succeeded in defusing two of the three detonators but was too late to finish the third.
"Cliffjumper?" She asked, reading his designation.
His optic dilated and half-shuttered and he gave a feeble salute with his good servo even though it was the wrong side. Then, Cliffjumper touched his throat again and pointed at her.
Arcee flushed a little. She had told him they'd talk.
"Look. I'm not supposed to be bothering you," she explained. He quickly shook his helm insistently. "I know, I know." Arcee vented a frustrated sigh. "Okay, I've got an idea … here."
She slid her fingers under the edge of his helm beneath his audio receptor to find the data node there and shared a burst of information with him.
"Try that."
He processed it for a moment then arched a brow at her.
DO YOU GIVE ALL THE MECHS YOUR PRIVATE FREQUENCY BEFORE YOU TELL THEM YOUR NAME? His optic shone with amusement. OR JUST THE GOOD LOOKING ONES?
She smirked, sitting on the edge of his berth.
"Just the ones that impress me," she explained. "I can't believe you made it."
He vented a relaxed sigh. BECAUSE OF YOU.
"Because of your friends and Vaccine, more like it."
Cliffjumper shook his helm again. SEEING YOU MADE ME REALIZE I LIKE GETTING UNDER PRETTY FEMMES' PLATING TOO MUCH TO OFFLINE YET.
Arcee felt her faceplate heat and was glad for the dark of the room. He must have sensed it in her energy field anyway because she thought he tried to laugh.
SO, ARE YOU GOING TO TELL ME YOUR NAME, BLUE?
"I don't give my name to any randy mech that asks," she teased back. "And, I don't want you to get me in trouble."
THAT'S NOT THE KIND OF TROUBLE I'D WANT TO GET YOU IN. THE LEAST I OWE YOU IS THE BEST FRAG YOU'VE EVER HAD FOR SAVING MY SPARK.
Primus, she thought, shaking her helm in bewilderment.
"You don't owe me anything."
BUT I WANT TO.
"Thanks, but I think I'll pass. I need to get back to my patrol."
AWW, DON'T BE THAT WAY. He pleaded, catching her servo before she could get up. IT'S MY FACE, ISN'T IT?
"No … it's just …"
WELL THEN, YOU'VE GOT A CASE LOCK, DON'T YOU? Arcee blushed again, but resisted the impulse to cover her chest plates from his optics. DON'T TELL ME A GORGEOUS FEMME LIKE YOU ISN'T USED TO MECHS COMING ONTO HER.
She wasn't, but he didn't need to know that.
"We're kind of in the middle of a war zone, in case you didn't notice."
OH, I GOT THE MESSAGE. He assured her. ALL THE MORE REASON TO DO IT WHILE WE CAN.
"I think you need to focus more on getting better," she gently redirected. "Does the doctor know you're awake?"
He shook his helm.
ARE YOU GOING TO TELL ON ME?
"They need to know."
I'M GETTING ALL THE ATTENTION I NEED RIGHT NOW. He tried to grin. It was a little unsettling without a jaw and glossa.
"I should go," she announced again before he could insert another terrible come-on. "Get better, okay? Hopefully, they'll reassign me before you're able to get off that berth."
COME ON, BLUE. YOU NEVER KNOW WHEN THOSE CONS WILL BREAK THROUGH. NOW MIGHT BE YOUR ONLY CHANCE.
"I'll take the risk."
Arcee took her diluted ration and found her usual seat across from her usual company.
She liked the medic. Like her, Vaccine had come from a high caste family who hadn't thought he should need to fight. By the time the war had really gotten going he'd just joined his sire and grandsire's medical practice. She and him had joined with the same noble fantasies of making some kind of difference in the war. Both of them had learned how utterly stupid they'd been, but at least he made a damn good medic.
"You look like Unicron scrubbed his aft with you."
He vented heavily, rubbing his optics. "Feels about right. How's your friend?" he asked, changing the subject.
Arcee's faceplate heated. Vaccine couldn't tell her he and Cliffjumper didn't talk about her. At least the medic hadn't told him her name like she'd asked.
"I was going to ask you the same thing."
"Good. Great even. I finally got his new optic calibrated this morning. He wants you to come look at it."
"Of course he does." She rolled her optics. "A real close look, I bet. Thank Primus you didn't calibrate a new spike for him."
"Hey, a mech's got to prioritize his functions. Right?"
"There's a difference between prioritizing and a one-track processor."
"At least it keeps him going." Vaccine grinned, getting up and taking his empty cube with him. "I could officially prescribe your company for him, but you seem set on visiting him anyway, no matter how one-tracked his processor is."
"If they keep me on doubles, I might take you up …"
An explosion felt like it shook the infirmary off its foundation. Vaccine was close enough to grab Arcee and shield her lighter frame from the panels that rained down on the room.
When the dust settled and Vaccine's headlights came on, she remembered she was the one that was supposed to be protecting the medic. Arcee let go of his arm and tried to regain her composure.
"What the frag was that?"
"Suicide bomber?" Vaccine guessed, shaking pieces of the ceiling off of his back and straightening to his full height again. "Looks like our shift just got started early."
She followed Vaccine's emergency lights through the darkness in the smoky corridor and stairwell up to the repair hall. Whatever it was, it hadn't happened here, but the room was in a state of total pandemonium as doctors and nurses fought to stabilize their patients without the life support machines, and soldiers were shouting and even screaming for help outside where the bomb had went off.
It happened so fast.
Every medic and doctor that didn't have both servos full went rushing to help the victims of the explosion and get them inside and out of harm's way while the defense shield was being restarted. Arcee had turned her back to help a nurse get one of the wounded onto a gurney, and then the real bomb went off.
Two suicide bombers. No one saw it coming. One to draw in the medical personnel, the second to wipe everyone out. How in the Pit had they gotten past the Elite Guard's perimeter?
The larger explosion decimated the western half of the repair hall, and made shrapnel out of all the bots that had been around the bomb. She and the nurse steadied each other as they got back on their peds. But, almost as soon as Arcee let go of her she tripped over something in the smoke.
She turned around to make sure she hadn't hurt someone or herself and screamed, reeling back from the shoulder, upper arm and sparkless, dead optics in half of Vaccine's faceplate.
"No!" she shouted. "Vaccine?!"
She spun around, shouting for her friend. It couldn't be him. He was fine, and he'd answer her back.
"Vaccine!" No answer. "Vaccine?!"
A third explosion felt like it rocked Cybertron out from underneath her, and something slammed into the back of her helm, knocking her into emergency stasis. It felt like she was in the dark for cycles before the light and noise came back, heralded by someone shaking her and Tracks' red faceplate in hers.
"Arcee? Arcee?"
"Ugh … I … I'm okay …" she managed to grumble.
"Good. Break time's over," he said, pulling her up with him as he rose to his peds.
"Vaccine?"
Tracks shook his helm, not meeting her optics.
"Come on. We're moving everyone that's left down to the bunker before the Decepticons get their slag together."
Stay busy. Tracks been fighting longer than she had, and he knew that if she kept busy, reality could sink in at a more convenient time later. Right.
The Elite Guard's antiaircraft guns hummed to life, making the air thud against her spark chamber with every round. The defense shield was down, and who knew for how long since no one could get out to see what part had been destroyed in the bombs or if any of the engineers or mechanics were still online besides.
She offered support to one of the mechs and lead him to the stairwell in the tide of bots. Another soldier was waiting to take him the rest of the way. Arcee was going back for another when she remembered Cliffjumper. Frag. They might leave him for last since he was so far from the bunker.
When she made it to the room he was in, he'd managed to sit up on his berth and was in the process of disconnecting all of his now-useless monitors.
HEY, BLUE. YOU FINALLY DECIDE TO COLLECT? he messaged her.
"Can you walk?" she asked, helping him unplug the last of the machines.
I WAS GOING TO GIVE IT A SHOT.
The building shook as what sounded like Seekers rained a barrage of rockets down on the artillery.
SOUNDS LIKE YOU'RE MISSING THE PARTY, he said, shaking off her offer of support. GO HELP THE OTHERS.
"No. I have to help you get down to the shelter."
DON'T WORRY ABOUT ME. GET THE …
"I'm not leaving without you!" she almost cried.
He blinked at her outburst, steadying himself on the berth. Arcee felt him nudging at her with his energy field, and his expression sobered.
FIRST TIME? he finally asked.
"What?"
YOU LOST SOMEONE REAL.
Real. That's what Vaccine had been. Someone she knew – not just another anonymous face among the thousands that offlined every day. Arcee shook her helm to try to clear it of the image of the last time she'd seen his faceplate.
IT'S WAR, BLUE, he reminded her, despite the sound of gunfire and shouts and the smell of smoke in the room. He took her arm gently in the still-skeletal frame of his servo. WE'RE ALL BOUND TO GET OFFLINED BEFORE IT'S OVER. YOU JUST GOT TO MAKE THE MOST OF EVERY BREEM PRIMUS GIVES YOU, AND TAKE OUT AS CONS AS YOU CAN BEFORE YOU'RE TIME'S UP.
"I joined this war to save lives, not die!" she snapped.
Cliffjumper vented heavily. FINE. THEN LET'S SAVE THESE GUYS TOGETHER, he said, sweeping an arm over the stasis-locked occupants he'd been sharing the room with. To emphasize his point, he summoned his auxiliary cannon in his left servo.
YOU AND ME, PARTNER.
"Fine." Anything to get him to the bunker where he was safe.
It was slow going with Cliffjumper's atrophied legs and one good arm, but together they were able to get three of the berths down the first set of stairs, only leaving two behind for a return trip.
I'M SLOWING YOU DOWN. RUN BACK AND GET THEM, Cliffjumper instructed. I'LL HAND THESE TWO OFF TO THE MEDICS AT THE BUNKER AND COME BACK TO HELP YOU AT THE STAIRS.
Arcee nodded and ran back to the room. As she was unlocking the rollers on the last two berths, a firestorm lit up the single window's view of the devastated courtyard and antiaircraft cannons. She blinked, rebooting her optics a few times and gasped when she was able to look out the window again.
A massive mech – no, a combiner – was plowing through the Elite Guard like toy soldiers toward the cannons and crushing what was left of the infirmary in his path.
"Oh scrap …" she whispered.
The femme grabbed the two berths and hauled with all her strength to get them out of the room and away from the window at least. Another explosion made the floor buckle under her peds, but she kept pulling. She had to get them to the stairs.
Cliffjumper? she commed. I need a little help up here.
No answer.
Cliffjumper? Can you hear me?
Nothing.
Frag.
One at a time, she got behind them and pushed them to the entrance to the stairs, then ran down to the stairs to the berth Cliffjumper and her had left on the first trip and pushed it to the guards posted at the stairs to the bunker.
"I need help! I've got two more upstairs, but we've got to hurry. There's a …"
The building shook and the ceiling began to collapse on them. That wasn't an explosion. Something was beating its way in.
"A combiner?" the guard asked. "Yeah. We know!"
"I need help with the injured. Did a red mech bring others here already? Where did he go?"
"Leave them," he ordered. "Get in the bunker!"
"No!" She jumped back, to keep him from grabbing her and probably throwing her down the stairs. "Where's Cliffjumper?!"
"Arcee! Come on!" the other guard yelled. "That mech ran off. It's too late."
"I can't!"
She turned and ran the only way he could've gone. What was that idiot thinking?
Cliffjumper?! Where are you, you stupid fragger!
Again, he didn't reply.
At least the rest of the infirmary was empty except for the Elite Guard that was getting their afts handed to them. The femme darted past them scanning for a flash of red in the glow of the fires.
I swear, if you …
She shrieked, dodging paneling and girders as the combiner punched through a wall to get at her heat signature. He must have thought she was up to something, because no one would be stupid enough to be running around a combiner's peds alone for no reason.
She peppered his ugly faceplate with phaser fire, scrambling to get on her peds and escape the grasping fingers trying to cage her in and crush her.
Suddenly, another phaser was hitting him from the side.
BLUE! GET OUT OF THERE!
Arcee squeezed through a crack in the wall and between the enormous peds. Scrap. It was huge! If she'd had the time to let her processor slow down and realize that she was in some very serious slag right now, she might have seized up.
MOVE!
Cliffjumper was skirting around his massive opponent on nimble peds. Distantly it occurred to her that he'd tricked her, so she'd leave him behind.
The combiner brought up his ion cannon and smashed through a wall to block Cliffjumper's orbit of him. It worked. The red mech paused for the instant the combiner needed to draw a bead on him, but Arcee jumped back into the fray without thinking.
"Hey! Down here!" she shouted, shifting to her twin blades.
She jumped onto a ped and sank both of them deep into the tangle of hydraulics and fuel lines before leaping back, tearing her blades free in the process.
It howled with rage and spun, kicking her all the way across the courtyard where she slammed into the wall and landed in a crumpled heap. A ped and her right arm didn't respond when she tried to push herself up, and her gyroscope seemed to have been knocked out of commission. Pain registered from everywhere. She shook her helm to try clearing the static, but she knew she was fragged.
Suddenly she was scooped up and over a shoulder, and the courtyard was disappearing behind them an instant later.
THAT WAS A STUPID ROOKIE STUNT!
"It saved you didn't it?" she shouted back at him testily.
WORRY ABOUT SAVING YOUR OWN AFT!
They ducked into what was left of an old storage room, and Cliffjumper sat her down so she could try to get her peds under her again.
HE KNOWS WE'RE AROUND HERE. I'LL DISTRACT HIM. YOU TRY MAKING A RUN FOR IT.
"We're cut off! The Cons have the building surrounded on all sides now. There's nowhere to run except through him and back to the damn bunker.
SURE, WHERE WE CAN WAIT FOR THE CONS TO EXECUTE US AFTER THEY'VE TAKEN OUT THOSE CANNONS. THAT'S NOT HOW I'M GOING OUT!
"Don't be stupid! Help is on the way!"
I SAW THE GUARD PULLING BACK. WE'RE ON OUR OWN. NO ONE IN THEIR RIGHT PROCESSOR IS GOING TO RISK THEIR SPARK FOR A BUNCH OF BUSTED-UP CRIPPLES!
"I know one bot who will!" she countered, pointing behind him.
Cliffjumper looked around in time to see Superion fall out of the sky onto the Con, and a squad led by none other than Optimus Fragging Prime blasting their way through the Decepticon line.
The red mech would have been gaping if he'd had a jaw. He looked back at her, and Arcee crossed her arms smugly.
YOU SHUT UP. He scolded preemptively, jabbing a finger at her. LET'S GIVE THEM SOME COVER FIRE – LIKE I WAS DOING BEFORE I HAD TO COME BACK TO SAVE YOU.
They were all transported back to Iacon where Arcee spent the next few solar-cycles under one of Optimus Prime's medical officers' care. Her gyro was recalibrated and her busted ped and arm were repaired in what felt like record time, but he insisted she stay even longer while her systems adjusted to the repairs and the undiluted energon.
She just wanted to get out of this fragging place!
"How are you feeling today?"
She got the impression he didn't really care and was just asking out of habit.
"Fine. Better than I have in close to a vorn."
He made some notes on his datapad, nodding.
"You should be released to active duty tomorrow," the medic explained. "In the meantime however, you have a visitor."
Cliffjumper?
Her hopes were crushed when a bluish-gray and white mech entered her room instead.
"Arcee?"
She got to her peds as steadily as she could and saluted.
"Um … not really necessary. I think you outrank me besides," he smiled. "My name's Tailgate. I'm from Delta Team."
"I've heard about them," she admitted. "Reconnaissance, right?"
"That'd be us. Want to take a walk?"
Arcee jumped at the excuse.
"You here recruiting?" She tried not to make it sound like an accusation.
"Word gets around pretty quick in Iacon. Especially when it's about a femme that took on a combiner," Tailgate reasoned.
"To save a friend," Arcee clarified. "I'll be the first to admit that it was pretty reckless."
"Still. We could use someone with those kind of bearings. I figured it couldn't hurt to ask since you'll be getting reassigned anyway – being as most of your team didn't make it, I mean."
She vented a sigh. It hurt to be reminded. "So I'd be scouting?"
"Mostly. You could cut your dente a little more on some real combat – more than patrolling an infirmary anyway." He shrugged.
Arcee caught sight of a red mech with sensory horns arguing with the chief medical officer in angry whispers. It couldn't be him. But then again, they had fixed her quickly. Why not Cliffjumper?
The mech sensed someone watching him and looked in time to catch her. His familiar blue optics widened, then the CMO said something to get his attention and he waved him off before turning around and storming off.
"Something wrong?" Tailgate asked, snapping her back to their conversation. She'd fallen a few steps behind him.
"Um … no, sorry. Can I think about it? I can't get out until tomorrow anyway. I mean … I am interested, but … I need to take care of something. Excuse me."
Without looking back, she pushed her way through the crowded hallway back to where she'd seen Cliffjumper, but there was no sign of him. Arcee started in the direction he'd gone, glancing down halls and into any open rooms. She came to a dead end. He must have gone another way. It couldn't have been him.
"Blue?"
Arcee spun to face the mech behind her.
"Hey." She smiled. "I was starting to think you'd left without saying goodbye."
Cliffjumper's expression sagged a little, but he straightened when Arcee stepped closer. The doctors hadn't just fixed him; it looked like he'd been painted and buffed for an award ceremony.
"Well … I was afraid I'd say something to slag you off … and … then you wouldn't miss me."
"Are you kidding? I'm used to it by now. I might even miss it a little."
"Yeah?" He smiled down at her, and Arcee had to give in and wrap her arms around his neck. Cliffjumper bent to her reach and vented a sigh against her neck. His servos hesitantly clasped her waist, and she felt his energy field tense. "Me too."
"I saw you arguing with the CMO. Are you okay?"
She relaxed to let him go, and the mech withdrew enough to face her again.
"Oh. No, no. Nothing's wrong. That's what I was trying to tell that old crankcase. I'm gonna rust just sitting around here."
Arcee smirked. "So, you're released?"
"Far as I'm concerned. The next transport leaves at 1900 joors. I'm gonna be on it," he stated as fact, finally straightening from her completely. "Looks like they got you patched up. Are you going back to guard duty and part time nursing?"
"No. Delta Team, I think."
"Scouting? Not many lives up for saving in that field," he grinned.
"Yeah, well …" She shrugged. "Just … be careful out there. Okay?"
She knew she'd probably never see Cliffjumper again if he made it back to the Kaon battlefront like he wanted. He knew it too, and could only manage a nod and a half-smile.
Against her better judgment, the femme rose on the tips of her peds and kissed him sweetly. It caught him off guard, but then he vented softly, raising a servo to trace the pink accent at the side of her faceplate.
"Don't forget," she whispered against his lips. Cliffjumper unshuttered his optics slightly to meet hers. "You still owe me."
Cliffjumper arched a brow, and she felt his energy field become heavy.
"Well …" he almost rumbled, "it is pretty dangerous out there."
Arcee felt her faceplate heat but smiled as he bent again to nuzzle at her audio receptor.
"And, I'd hate to offline in debt to a pretty femme."
Her spark was already racing at the prospect. Much as she didn't want to pull away from the mech's gentle touch and the seductive heat and vibration of his engine, Arcee caught the servo at her face and turned to tug Cliffjumper away from the crowded main corridor.
If someone had told her few vorns ago that she'd be doing this with a mech she hardly knew in a hospital storage room, Arcee wouldn't even have laughed. She would've slapped them in the faceplate and stormed off in a huff, winglets proudly aloft.
When the door shut and locked behind them, Cliffjumper caught her lips again and trapped her waist in his servos against the wall. Arcee gasped when his glossa left her mouth and claimed a sensitive fuel line in her neck.
"Primus," he vented at her audio receptor. "You should've let me do this sooner when all I had was time."
He bent and his thick servos caught her behind her thighs, and Arcee was lifted up to his height and perched on his hip. He coaxed her peds to lock behind his back, then his fingers traveled up her exposed protoskin and just under the plating on her chest.
Arcee's intakes hissed and she arched into him, unable to escape the intensity as he exploited sensitive nodes in such close proximity to her external modifiers. It made her core heat and her spark flutter.
"Cliff … ah …" she panted through her vents, but her attempts at escape only separated the plating further for him to invade.
Arcee had never thought she'd need the case lock femmes were required to wear, but right now she was grateful for it, feeling her spark surge at just this mech's touch. Her pelvic plating certainly had no qualms with retracting for him.
His energy field felt leaden now, and her sensors were very aware of the virile, thundering spark just out of her reach. Her own spark ached for it, sang out for the mech's, and he shuddered as his responded in turn to what it only understood to be a willing female counterpart.
Instinct took over for a moment, and Arcee hooked her fingers behind his chest plating and pulled her chassis against him making the mech grunt in surprise. Her vents closed and she threw her helm back, but Cliffjumper moved quick to cover her mouth as she keened with the buildup. She felt her case lock catch and her spark surge.
"Oh … frag …!" he growled when his knees tried to buckle as his spark was unable to resist following hers' lead.
"Yes …" she panted between his fingers."Please … oh yes!"
Cliffjumper revved his engine to counter the discomfort and they rode out the surge and fall in sweet, ecstatic misery without any release. When it finally subsided, he rested his helm beside hers on the wall as his fans caught up and drew from the relative calm in her energy field.
"Pit," she swore. "I'm sorry."
The mech startled her when he laughed.
"What?"
"How has such a beautiful, sexy femme like you not done this before?"
Her plating felt like it might melt with embarrassment at his deduction, even though her inexperience had been made fairly obvious.
"Does it matter?"
"Not if you don't want it to," he purred and shrugged. "I don't even know your name."
Arcee vented a sigh and shifted to draw his mouth back to hers in reply.
His servos slid back to her legs to readjust her weight, and Cliffjumper dipped to her throat again to nibble at the wiring. Arcee purred with him as she let go of his plating and brought her fingers up to delicately trace the back of his horns. Her touch made him shiver, and she heard and felt his plating retract against her thighs.
"Relax," he whispered with a hot vent of exhaust against her neck and beneath her plating.
Arcee hadn't realized she'd tensed up or that her energy field was broadcasting it. She willed herself to try to comply, but his fingertips coming to trace her most sensitive pleasure nodes didn't really help. Her winglets folded almost defensively, and she shuddered, venting an unsteady whimper in the back of her vocalizer.
Cliffjumper raised his helm to smile at her and catch her mouth once more, pressing her helm back into the wall. The purr deepened to a rumbling growl as he pressed his hips into hers as slow as he could manage.
Arcee arched into him, her grip tightening on his horns.
"Oh … Pit … Cliff, I …" But, he stole away her doubts with deeper, more-claiming kisses.
She tried to straighten away from it, but the mech pursued, bucking gently against her resistance. Arcee's ventilations caught and she let go of his helm to splay her servos down his chestplate where his spark was still calling out to hers, making it throb.
She heard him chuckle softly, and he set his peds and let her slip down further. Pleasure nodes she didn't know she had lit up making her pant through her fans, and her fingers dug the first scratches into his fresh paint job as she arched to tilt her hips into his better.
"Cliff … jumper …" she struggled not to scream.
"Yeah?" he rumbled with amusement.
Arcee felt her case lock bind up again as he set an agonizingly patient pace to torture the molten heat building in her core. He shifted her weight to one servo and returned some attention to the nodes beneath her locked plating.
"Frag!" she gasped. "Damn it!"
The frustration was almost as intense as the pleasure he was eliciting. How in the Pit was a femme supposed to get used to never having everything her spark and body was demanding?
The mech stiffened as she locked her peds – and what felt like her entire body – around as much of him as she could. He lifted his servo to brace himself against the wall.
"Primus, Blue …" he strained through clenched dente. "You want it that bad, huh?"
Before she could reply, he sank into her deep enough that their plating grated together, and Arcee threw her helm back and opened her mouth for a soundless moan as the surge crested with jarring release.
Cliffjumper rumbled idly, nipping at the line of her jaw as she drifted back to the here and now. She met his optics, and he grinned as her servos came up to caress his face languidly.
"That'll keep my engines warm at night for a long time. I like seeing a femme satisfied." He tasted a few more kisses. "Mmmm … very satisfied."
He settled her thighs back into both servos and began again, working at his own pace – slow and deep, hitting those new pleasure nodes she was still getting acquainted with. Arcee writhed, clutching at the edges of his bracers, panting through her fans, savoring the way he filled her hips so perfectly.
She could feel and smell her lubricant on his thighs, and the mech seemed drugged on the heavy, sweet scent. She could hear his sexy huffing vents at the juncture of her neck and shoulder as he drank up the femme with every sensor.
She felt herself tighten again making him buck hard with a whimper.
Arcee floundered for control, long enough to turn to his audio receptor.
"You are amazing," she purred, her engine's RPMS spiking. "Ah! Primus! I … I'm close … again."
He growled in response, burying himself to the hilt and making Arcee stifle a squeak.
"Let's make it good then. I want to feel you lock around me … ngh …!"
He ground against her as his spark tried to surge again. Her fans sputtered and she welcomed the heat.
"Cliff … Cliffjumper!"
He was holding her again, moving, attacking her nodes with abandon.
"I'm … I … my name … my name is Arcee."
He crushed her into the wall.
"Arcee," he panted.
"Yes."
His faceplate split in a wide smile. "Arcee. I like it!"
"I'm glad." She couldn't find the breath to laugh.
"Are you going to overload for me, Arcee?" he rumbled, hitting a deep node ruthlessly.
"Oh frag! Yes!"
"Beg for it, Arcee?"
"Please … Cliff … oh please!"
"Scream for it, Arcee?"
"Yes! Damn it!" She locked her peds behind his back. "Yes!"
The heat broke.
"Yes! Cliff! Ah … ah! Ah! Yes!"
"Oh … yeessss …!" he growled. "Arcee!"
Molten heat filled her making her straighten with a gasp, but his servos held her locked against him.
Then, she was somehow closer to the floor perched on Cliffjumper's heavy bracers. The mech was leaned back on his tires and letting her winglets alleviate the heat in her overworked systems.
Finally, she heard his fans slow to a more reasonable speed, and he lifted her off of him enough to shift his plating back into place. He vented a deep, long sigh and met her optics.
"Thanks."
Arcee blinked.
"I really needed that," he explained, bringing a servo up from her waist to rub the stiffness out of a hydraulic in the back of his neck.
"Yeah," she said softly.
Cliffjumper rose to his peds, hauling her up with him. Arcee waited for him to look at her.
"I'd better get rolling … if I'm gonna catch my transit," he said, hitting the button to open the door.
Arcee touched his bracer, and he looked down at her tiny servo before walking back out into the corridor.
"Really. Be careful out there. I … wouldn't mind seeing you again … online."
She sidestepped to face him, and kissed the side of his faceplate.
"I … wouldn't get my hopes up," he admitted then tried to smile. "But hey, who knows? Right? Good luck on Delta Team."
She watched him take a few steps down the corridor in a stiff hurry.
"Cliffjumper?"
He paused and half turned to look back at her.
"That's it?" she accused.
The mech seemed to struggle with himself a moment then shrugged.
"What else were you expecting?"
"I don't know. Just …"
"Look," he vented. "It's been fun. But, mechs like me … are bound to run off or get offlined or both. And, we're pretty much slagholes. A nice femme like you … Do yourself a favor and just steer clear in the future."
Man, I made Cliffjumper a real dick. Hopefully I know what I'm doing. ;)