The Autobots finally pushed past the Decepticons defending Darkmount and stormed the tower. Half of the Autobots ran forward to clear the way to the brig, while the other half covered them from behind, holding back the swelling numbers of Decepticons.

Shots of blue and purple, discharged from both sides' guns, bounced from wall to wall as the advancing team, led by Prowl, zoomed down the hall, taking down snarling Decepticons left and right. When they reached the brig and began breaking open the cells, Prowl commed First Aid, who was back in the base.

:First Aid, open the ground bridge, now!:

The medic complied and the team quickly hustled about ten injured Autobot prisoners through. The remaining former Autobot prisoners stayed to fight the Decepticons that had imprisoned them for so long.

The Autobots that were still holding off the Decepticons began slowly backing up into the ground bridge, firing at the Decepticons. They screamed in rage, knowing that their opponents were escaping, as the Autobots all vanished through the ground bridge and emerged in the base in Iacon.

There were several injured Autobots, but no one was fatally wounded or offline. First Aid had commed Knockout to come help him, realizing that all of these injuries were going to take a while to fix.

"We did it." Jazz panted next to Prowl, "We got 'em all."

"Yes." Prowl nodded proudly, "We did." Then the adrenaline fled his system, and for the first time he felt the sharp pain in his side. He gasped, and went to feel the metal there, but it was completely smooth and unbloodied. Then he glanced at Jazz, who had a servo pressed to his side and was breathing heavily.

"Jazz?" Prowl removed his servo from his side, realizing he wasn't the injured one, "Jazz, are you alright? Move your servo."

"I'm fine." Jazz waved him off, "Just gotta sit down for a mo'." He flopped ungracefully to the ground and tilted his helm back, stifling a groan.

"You're not fine, I can feel it!" Prowl insisted, optics wide with worry, "Let me see."

Jazz sighed and removed his servo, drenched in energon, revealing a deep gash in his side, bleeding profusely. "It don' hurt that bad!" He protested, seeing the look of panic on his bonded's face.

"Don't lie to me you afthole, I know exactly how much it hurts!" Prowl seethed, a combination of angry and worried, as his servos hovered over Jazz's wound, "I'll go get First Aid."

"No, don' bother him. He's got enough bots to worry 'bout as it is." Jazz sighed, "Just get me some bandages er somethin'."

"Fine." Prowl stood, giving him another concerned look, "Don't go anywhere please. I'll be right back."

"Where am I gonna go Prowler?" Jazz laughed, but Prowl had already turned and walked away.

He returned a few minutes later with a bottle of cleaner and some bandages. Jazz looked appropriately nervous as Prowl dabbed the cleaner onto some cloth, "Don' kill me Prowler. I'm already hurt, don' need more hurt."

"You need the cleaner or else it will get infected."

"Be gentle?" Jazz said weakly

Prowl rolled his optics, "Come here, you big baby." He pulled Jazz closer to him and began liberally dabbing the cleaner all over the wound as Jazz hissed in pain.

"Why ya so mean to me?" He winced

"Why?" Prowl said angrily, rubbing a bit more vigorously, "Because you got injured and scared the scrap out of me, even though I specifically asked you to be careful. You can't be reckless like this anymore!"

"Why?"

"Because now you've got someone who cares about you." Prowl sighed, "And if anything happens to you, I'll be destroyed. How would you like it if I was acting all reckless on the battlefield and got injured and scared the scrap out of you?"

Jazz was silent for a moment as Prowl carefully bandaged his wound. Finally he said, "I promised ya I would be careful and I meant it, Prowler. Someone shot me when I wasn't lookin' and I ignored it 'till now. It wasn't cuz I was bein' all crazy and reckless and jumpin' around like usual."

Prowl sighed, seeing that Jazz was telling the truth, "I'm sorry I over reacted. I just get really freaked out when you get hurt."

"Prowler, yer gonna have to deal with it though." Jazz reached out and grabbed the tactician bot's servo, "Ya can't panic every time I get injured, 'cuz that's gonna happen sometimes. We're fightin' a war; there's gonna be injuries. I'll try to be as careful as I can, and that's the best I can do."

Prowl nodded and gave him a weak smile, "That's the most I can ask for."

Optimus hurried by just then, trying to help First Aid get everyone situated in the Medbay, and stopped in front of Jazz and Prowl.

"Hello you two." His optics widened, seeing Jazz's bandages, "Jazz, are you alright?"

"Fine." Jazz winced, "A lil worse for wear, but I'm alright."

Optimus hmmed and then said, "Oh, I meant to ask...are you two bonded?"

Prowl flushed, "Yes. How did you know?"

Optimus raised an optic ridge, "I watched the two of you fight together and figured it out. Congratulations, by the way."

Jazz beamed, "Thanks Prime."

He nodded to them and continued on his way to his office, anticipating a massive amount of casualty reports from First Aid in a few hours. As he settled into his desk chair, he received a galactic distance comm from Earth.

He enlarged it so it was visible on his computer screen and then answered it, "Ratchet! It is good to see you. How is everything on Earth?"

The medic looked weary, "Well enough. Starscream is still keeping Shockwave and his troops on Earth and it's nearly impossible trying to fight them while staying out of sight of the humans. How did the rescue mission today?"

The two old friends talked for a while, bringing each other up to speed. Ratchet asked about his sparkling and grand sparkling, of course, and Optimus asked about his former commander, Ultra Magnus, who was now leading the team on Earth.

Then, once the catching up and pleasantries were over, the conversation became more real. Optimus sighed and ran a servo over his helm, "Ratchet. Can I ask you a personal question?"

"A personal question?" Ratchet looked astonished, "From you? This I gotta hear."

"I would not ask you, but…"

"I'm the only bot you got to talk to." Ratchet nodded and leaned back in his chair, "Well? I'm listening."

"We...we are getting older Ratchet." Optimus' shoulders slumped a little

"Hey!" The medic argued, "We're not that old…."

"We are, Ratchet." Optimus pressed a digit to the side of his helm, "There is no use denying it. We are no longer those young, energetic bots we once were, in our days on Cybertron."

"I suppose not." Ratchet reluctantly admitted, "Where are you going with this? There had better have been a reason other than to just depress the Pit out of us."

The Prime sighed again, "You...you have already found love once in your life. I am beginning to fear...that I never will."

"Ah, scrap, Optimus." The medic scrubbed his faceplates, "You had Elita, didn't you?"

"We were only dating when she was...killed." Optimus swallowed the lump in his throat, "It was not love yet, although who knows what might have been."

Ratchet sighed, "The only advice I can give you is to keep looking. I believe that every bot is given a chance to be with their sparkmate, even if it's not in this life."

"That is what I'm afraid of." Optimus rested his gaze on the floor, "That I have already had my chance, and I messed it up. I let her die."

Ratchet nodded sadly, "I understand that more than anyone. That's why I hope that someday I will get to be with her again, in the Well. That could happen to you too, or you might find someone and fall in love with them, either here or there."

"I suppose that is true." Optimus leaned forward, "But what about you, old friend? You should be optimistic about finding new love as well."

Ratchet laughed distractedly, "Hardly anyone ever has two sparkmates in their lifetime, Prime. I've already been bonded once; it's unlikely to happen again. My spark is too damaged from the severing of Crossblade's bond."

"Damaged?" Optimus frowned; this was the first he was hearing of this, "Physically or emotionally?"

"...Both."

"Why have you never told me this?" Optimus said, concerned, "Crossblade died so long ago."

"It's not horribly painful." Ratchet looked tired, "I can bear it, and I didn't want you to worry. You already have so much to worry about anyways."

"Ratchet, that is a horrible excuse." Optimus looked worried, "You know that I am your friend before I am your commander, and you should have told me. Never mind if I am occupied or not; I will always be occupied with everything."

"Fine." The medic grumbled, "Next time I'll tell you if I damage my spark through the severing of a bond."

Optimus shook his helm; that was all he would get out of the grumpy medic.