"Why are we stopping?" Dropkick inquired as the pair pulled into an abandoned garage.

"I hit a building on the way in," Shatter replied. "I think I may have been damaged."

She converted back to her Cybertronian self. At her stance, she only barely cleared the ceiling. Before Dropkick was fully transformed himself, she was already poking at the side of her abdomen. The many lights of her alternate form flickered on.

Dropkick approached, noticing a piece of debris protruding from her side. The half-meter long iron beam was jabbed in a position neither had noticed in the darkness when they landed. He reached toward it, but Shatter quickly knocked his hand away.

"Careful!" She shouted.

Dropkick's eyes widened at her tone.

"Quiet!" he grumbled. "We can't have the Earthlings finding us and slowing us down."

Shatter nodded and went back to inspecting her wound.

"It's pressed against my energon convertor," She said quieter. "If you pull too hard you'll dislodge it."

Dropkick took to his knee, getting a closer look at it. Now he could see the green fluids dripping from the impale. It wasn't a fatal wound. He knew it would still require a gentle hand, though.

"You'll want to sit down."

Shatter raised a metal brow.

"This will take some time," he explained, looking up to her gleaming optics. She looked around the empty building. Time wasn't something they had a lot of. A momentary setback was still preferable to furthering her injuries, though.

She trudged toward a support pillar that held the ceiling. With her back against it, she began to sink to the floor. When she started to emit a pained sound, Dropkick took her shoulder to guide her down more slowly. Once she was properly situated, he reached for his medkit.

"I'll need to cut the excess," he told her as a blowtorch emerged from his wrist. He brought it forward and began burning through the foreign metal. So close to her body, she could feel the heat of the torch. It didn't take long for the long metal piece to fall and hit the floor. Now only the smaller part inside of her remained.

"This next part is going to hurt," Dropkick warned, looking to her face for approval to continue. She remained expressionless for a second.

"Do what you must," she finally spoke.

Dropkick nodded and started to proceed. Pinching the invasive metal between his fingers, he slowly began to pull. Shatter groaned, making him stop. He looked up to her again and saw her upset face. She shook gave another subtle nod. Again, he went back to work.

When the piece was nearly halfway out, Shatter felt her converter slip back into its proper position. It hurt. She quickly grabbed Dropkick's free wrist, gripping hard as he continued. Almost inaudibly, he let out a chuckle.

"What's so funny?" She asked sharply, glaring down at him.

"Just like old times, huh?"

Old times. Times they'd agreed not to discuss. Apparently that didn't stop him.

"Me and you alone…"

She looked away to hide her embarrassed face.

"You holding me tight…" he continued.

She felt the piece of iron finally clear the wound.

"Don't start," she murmured. "Not while we're on mission."

Dropkick held the piece up between his fingers. They both studied it. It was mostly covered in her green blood. It served to shut him up for a second. He discarded it and reached down to the medkit, continuing his talk.

"We're always on mission Shatter. When can we talk about it?"

She shook her head. She preferred the conversation not be had at all. The feelings they both had resulted in trouble for previous missions.

"As long as this war is going, we can't be more than what we are now," she commented. He shook his head and pulled the regenerator from the medkit.

"'Partners'," he scoffed. "Humour me, though. What happens when this war is over? Then what do we become?"

It was a question Shatter considered before. For all the problems it had caused them, she loved every second of their time together. He was right, of course. This did remind her of their best times while they were alone and in relative peace. When they'd first had to downgrade their relationship to a more professional level, she hoped the war would end quickly. She longed for the day back then. When the years turned to decades, however, she knew it best not to think about it.

"This will sting," he said as he touched the regenerator to her open gash.

For a moment, Shatter considered what they'd do without one another. They'd repaired and patched each other's damages countless times before. If it weren't for the other, one of them may be dead by now. She swiftly kicked those thoughts away. The only thing worse than not being together would be being alone.

"Done," Dropkick interrupted her deep thinking. She looked down and saw her injury patched over. It was a professional job, as he always did for her.

She watched him repack his medical tools. How another Cybertronian had captured her spark so completely was lost on her.

Dropkick shuffled across the floor, over to the pillar she was resting against. He took up a similar position near her. He stayed quiet. Whenever he tried to talk about their relationship together, she always told him to leave it alone. He wished he didn't have to. All he could do now was sigh and live in his memories of her. The present was all work for them. No pleasure.

It surprised him, then, when he felt her fingers atop his hand.

"We'll have our time," she began to talk. Her fingers interlaced with his and soon they were hand-in-hand. He turned to her with wide eyes. She looked at him the same way.

"After B-127 and the Resistance are gone and Cybertron is at peace, we'll have our time."

She pulled his hand up to her lips, placing a gentle kiss.

"Soon."