Author's Note: Sorry it took so long, but here it is! It's finally done, after, what, a year? My upload schedule is terrible, I know. Thanks to those sticking with this, and I hope it was worth the while. Anyways, here goes!

The road back was an uneasily quite one. Clara sniffled every now and again, and Ivan responded with a pat or nuzzle. It was a much slower pace than the Russian light was accustomed to, attributable entirely to his new partner and her gearing, but that was far preferable to another… Breakdown.

Slowed pace or no, it was an easy trek. They arrived at Ivan's abode in the beginning moments of the twilight, just missing the sunset over the cliffs. What he called home was a rather smallish cave dented into the face of one of the lesser mounts, though it was happily large enough for two tanks and a reasonable supply store. It was a tight fit for the rather… Supple medium, but she settled down well enough.

Come to think of it, she is a tad bulky for a Matilda, Ivan mused, then offered, "Thirsty, I bet. Have a can, I've got plenty." He shoved it to her, and she graciously accepted. "And get to sleep once you're done. You need it."

She, cautiously, asked, "What about you? Not thirsty?"

Ivan looked her in the optic and stated, "Not yet. I'll be up, acting as our watch for the night. Let me know if you need anything else; I'll be outside." With that, the light drove off to a bush outside the crevice, and Clara tucked into the oil can. The little Russian tank kept looking back to her until he was sure she had gone to sleep, then hunkered down for the night.

It was certainly going to be long, but the watch gave him time to think about his situation. He'd finally found someone he could comfortably work with, though perhaps that might be overstating the matter. Bearably was more apt, as conversation had been extremely tense so far, but hopefully this girl would loosen up a little. So he settled down for the night, tuning his radio to some station playing western rock music, which the Russian tank had a distinctly unpatriotic love for. A good deal of his English had been learned simply by listening to stations like this one, and, as it were, it seemed as if he'd managed to end up kinda decent with it.

Hours passed, and song after song played. Ivan nearly fell asleep in his bush, but a hellish sound tore him from his drowsiness. A sound anyone could recognize. It was a gun, and a big one, too. More followed, and it would seem as if a battle had erupted near his home, although he seemed, thankfully, to be safe. His first thought was to run, but he stopped himself, remembering his new… ally… was still asleep.

Rolling back, he found her, barrel down over her engine deck and a faint hum coming from her hull. Clara seemed to be quite the sleeper. She probably needed it desperately, and, considering that they were probably ants in the eyes of the tanks fighting outside, he decided to take the risk of waiting it out. Staying inside the cave this time, he settled back down and, unintentionally, drifted off to sleep.

Morning. Shit. Ivan's barrel sprang up, ashamed and fearful, but it seemed without cause. There were no behemoths outside waiting to greet them, Clara was still happily asleep, and nothing had been stolen. And he was still alive. That too.

They were, as he'd gambled, never in any danger. But, just because they weren't last night didn't mean they'd be safe the next. He gave the infantry tank a few more minutes, as he woke himself up and got going. Then, he pulled back inside and set about gathering everything to go. Once he knew that there was nothing else left to do, he gently nudged the Brit awake. This took some time. Even for someone who hadn't slept in days, Clara seemed difficult to wake. But, with effort, she began to stir. At first, the whirring of her starter made Ivan think her battery might have dropped too low overnight, but the fear turned out to be nothing. After a few tries, she rumbled to consciousness, her engine displaying the true might of a civilian bus.

The 2-pounder perked up, and her turret turned to look at her new… friend? Still waking up, she asked, "How long was I asleep?" She knew she wouldn't like the answer, but asked anyways.

Sure enough, the light gave a less than happy look. "Longer than I did. I wish I could tell you, but, um… It's maybe ten or eleven now. I kinda dozed off myself…" The smaller tank shrugged, and seemed less… capable… than he had the day before. In a weird way, it was comforting to her, almost as if he were closer to her level. Was fallibility really… okay?

Confused, she prompted, "Um, so… You don't, um… Making… Um… Nothing's wrong with that?" Not a damn one of those felt right, but she had to say something. Maybe he'd get it?

He gave her an odd look, and she that perhaps she might've offended him, but he simply answered, "Well, shit like this happens. When it does, take stock and make do with what you can. That's life. It's not what you get, it's what you do with it." The way he delivered the last line seemed to emphasize her, but she still didn't see what he meant by it.

"Sometimes you don't get much to work with," she said, trying more to find out what he meant than continue the conversation. If he was talking about her, he'd continue, and maybe get more specific.

Undeterred, he maintained, "Then you just make the best of it. Even terrible stuff can be made into world-class material. You English seem to be pretty good at it. I'll bet you might find what you have to be better than you first thought." So he was talking about me… But, does he really think I can be worth a damn? And why does he so badly want me to get better? How does he benefit? She couldn't keep the line of thought, though, as the Russian started again, "Anyways, there was a firefight nearby last night. It didn't get close enough to endanger us, and I thought you'd need the sleep, but this place isn't safe anymore. Sorry I couldn't provide more permanent residence." His tone dropped, almost guiltily at the end.

Regardless, she knew what was coming. "So, we're on the road now?" She looked to the supplies, and saw all of them packed for transport. "I guess I can move, sure. But, do you really want to travel with me? I'll slow you down a lot…"

Unexpectedly, Ivan shot back at her, as impolite as he'd been thus far, "Do you really think I would have woken you if I didn't? And why do you keep trying to insist I don't need you? Do you want to die? Alone, all by yourself, with no one to help you? Do you?!" Almost in shock, she lowered her gaze and started to tear up at the optics. It hurt her to hear him talk like this. The grim reality of his words struck her core, and he didn't stop. "Enough of that shit, too! Feeling damn sorry for yourself isn't getting you any damn where! Do you want my help, or do you want to die? ANSWER MY DAMN QUESTION OR I'LL LEAVE YOU HERE!" He was pissed. Very pissed.

Starting to cry, she tried to suck in and answer, but it took a few moments. After struggling for a minute, as the fuming light seemed to be setting off, she managed to choke out, "Okay. Please… I'm sorry, let… Let me come along." He paused, let her roll up beside him, and shifted some of their supplies onto her engine deck. Not a word was spoken as they rolled out, and as Clara writhed in pain.

The pair rolled for a ways, like this, before the light began to feel a wave of guilt wash over him. He looked to his companion, who was still fighting tears, and began to realize what he'd said to her. It was true, sure, but his delivery was… He was treating her with exactly what had made her this way. The way she tried to deny his kindness was infuriating, but he had no right to treat her like this. She was of steel and oil, just as he. So, he slowed, then turned his turret to her. Calmly, he sighed, then began his apology, "Look, I'm, um… I'm sorry I was so hard on you. But, you can't keep approaching this like you won't succeed. If, um… If you need a break, then just let me know. This is hard on you, I'm sure."

She looked to him, still visibly hurting, then broke out crying. He stopped, closed his hull up against hers, and laid his barrel up against her. "It's okay, I'm sorry. I'm not going to leave you. And I'm not going to treat you like that ever again." I really am despicable. Just please, let her be alright… God help me, let her be alright. Perhaps his prayers were answered, because, as she cried against him, she slowly regained her composure. This girl was delicate, and he needed to learn that. And remember it, too.

Looking at him, she choked out, "I'm sorry I keep doing this. Please, let's get back going." This was… Progress, maybe? But, if it was, it was probably the wrong kind.

"Not until I'm sure you're okay. Besides, this is my fault. I shouldn't act like that, I'm sorry. We're both in this, together. Is that clear?" She nodded, and he felt more comfortable for it. If she'd just recover from this…

"Vell, vell. Vat do ve havf here? Two little lufberds? Oh, das ist romantic, ja?" Ivan froze. The cold fear of death shot through every panel, every bolt, every gear, wire, or screw in his body. He didn't dare look to see the source of the voice.

Just as he thought he might have gathered up the courage to check, or at least do something, a second voice spoke, this one deeper, with a mild rasp and a British accent. "What've you got this time, Jotun? Tier fours? Ah, hell, what're ya doin' like this, 'ere, you two?"

This was how it ended. Ivan was going to pay for his insensitivities with death. The words he dreaded most, though, came from the Matilda beside him. "I'm sorry." He echoed them back, and now they both cried. The pair stood together, awaiting the shots to kill them. Awaiting judgment. It was over.

Author's Note: Yep. I did it. First chapter I upload in ages, and it ends on a cliffhanger. The troll is real.

And, by the way, I cannot thank you guys enough, particularly the individual (Sorry I forgot your name!) who contacted me about this IN GAME. Honestly, I'm amazed that my work is this appreciated. To all who have reviewed and followed, thanks, really, I mean it. I'd try to respond to some reviews, but they're all kinda basic and/or the response might be spoilery.
On a side note, however, if you don't mind, please check out my other fic, Two Teams, One Dream. Cheesy name, I know, but my muse is having an easier time writing that than this, so it'll probably see more frequent uploads. Not that this fic is dying, far from it. And, again, thank you all.