Steve gave a rough yank, and the hunk of metal finally came free. He stumbled back a bit, the added weight throwing his balance, but he was luckily near a wall, and didn't fall flat on his aft. Any day Steve didn't end up doing that, he considered a good day.

Not that there would have been anyone here to see him, of course, in the silent mess of the scrap room, but he'd take what he could get.

Steve set the piece on top of the pile of several smaller bits of scrap. He wasn't really sure how much Knock Out needed, since all he'd said was "enough to cover the back side of the wing". Being a grounder himself, Steve's knowledge of wings was rudimentary, at best. Any contributions he could make to Starscream's replacement wing would have to be guesswork, since he was still slightly too nervous to question Knock Out.

It had been a rough day and a half since they'd forged their new partnership, and Steve was still feeling out the territory of things. He wouldn't exactly call the two of them best buddies or anything; after all, he was no Breakdown. He had basically become Knock Out's errand boy, sent back and forth to the scrap room, storage areas to find him tools, and the mess hall to bring back cubes of energon whenever Knock Out got too engrossed in his work to bother. It was obvious Knock Out appreciated all the help, but there were times when Steve felt like the medic still regarded him with suspicion. Or, at the very least, guarded annoyance. Whenever Steve didn't have anything to do, he liked to sit close to his star, just watching over him. It helped him feel like he was doing something to help, even when Knock Out didn't need him at the moment. He didn't feel like it was right to do anymore than just sit. Reaching out to take Starscream's thin, limp hand, or stroking a finger down the wan, scarred, but intact cheek seemed inappropriate. And although sometimes he had to fight every urge in his body to do more, most days, just being close was enough.

It helped that, occasionally, Knock Out would look up from his work and over his shoulder at Steve and the prone seeker by his side, and make the most incomprehensible face, usually suggesting that he leave for now to rest or get some energon. Steve almost always said no, never letting on to how confused the looks made him. He was already terrible at reading faces (years of wearing a visor and forcing to rely on body language did that), and that look just made it worse. With looks like that, he couldn't risk trying to touch his star.

So he simply sat and watched, until he was needed again.

Medically, things were going smoothly. The day before, Knock Out had gotten Starscream's arm joint fixed, and today, he was working on the knee joint that had been bothering the seeker tremendously. Fortunately, Starscream hadn't woken again during the time between the two. A lot of that could be attributed to Knock Out keeping him on a pretty steady supply of sedatives, especially now that he was healing from two delicate surgeries. But the sedatives didn't stop the other flight withdrawal symptoms. So far, they'd been lucky, and the most they'd had to deal with was Starscream occasionally muttering delirious nonsense in his sleep. Steve saw the nervousness set in the medic's shoulders though. Things could take a turn for the worse very quickly, without warning.

Steve knew that Knock out had been dragging his feet when it came to repairing Starscream's wing. Rumors flew in the Vehicon barracks that there were several Decepticon ships being left to orbit Cybertron because Magnus was still waiting on Starscream's repairs, and the information he could provide. Knock Out had stalled as long as he could, constantly finding smaller, less pressing repairs to tend to, and ignoring many a visit from the likes of Bulkhead or Arcee asking to talk to him about the wing repairs. They were getting impatient, and more Vehicon rumors had it that the other Autobots were pressing Magnus to take Starscream from Knock Out's care and have Ratchet finish the repairs. For some reason, Magnus kept saying no, leaving the Autobots to impotently stand in the doorway of the medbay and glare, hoping to frighten Knock Out into moving faster.

So far, they hadn't managed to do it. But with the ever-present threat of Starscream's flight withdrawal symptoms rearing their ugly head, Steve also knew he and Knock Out were running out of time, even with Magnus' confusing generosity.

He sighed as he gathered up his pieces of scrap, deciding that he could always come back if Knock Out needed more. He had to try his best to keep Knock Out from buckling completely. He nudged the door open with his foot, rearranging the scrap in his arms as he started walking back to the medbay. Knock Out said the knee surgery wouldn't take long, so he'd hopefully be there by the time it was finished.

Aside from carting scrap and making sure Knock Out didn't have anervous breakdown, hoping was all Steve could do.

Knock Out cut the power to the soldering iron, the final wire in Starscream's knee firmly back in place. He felt a tiny bit of weight lifting off his shoulders. They still felt heavy from the patchy sleep he'd been getting, but it was manageable.

As he set his tools aside, the doors to the medbay slid open, and in stumbled Steve. The Vehicon's arms were laden with scrap metal of varying sizes and shapes. It was more than what Starscream's replacement needed, but he appreciated Steve's thoroughness. It certainly was easier on him having another set of hands in the medbay again.

Steve set his load down by Knock Out's workbench, with a heaving grunt, and straightened himself up again. "I got as much as I could carry, doc," he said. "Some of it's a little big, but I figured we could just cut off what we don't need, then I could toss it back in the scrap room."

Steve continued to prattle on about the various bits of metal he'd found, and Knock Out found himself smiling, genuinely. He and Vehicon had only spent a few days in each other's company, but it was already plainly obvious there were ulterior motives for Steve's eagerness to help. It was nothing sinister, though. Far from it.

He watched Steve sit with Starscream for hours at time when Knock Out didn't have anything for him to do. He'd suggest maybe Steve get some rest or some energon or something, mostly just to see if he would, but every time, Steve cast a thoughtful glance at Starscream and said no, he was fine right here. Then there were the glances. Steve must not have been used to emoting without his visor, because the tender glances and dreamy stares were like a giant, flashing sign.

Steve was head over heels in love with Starscream.

"And if you need anymore, doc, just say the word, and I'm off to the scrap room again," Steve's cheerful voice dragged Knock Out from his more pleasant thoughts and back to the wing schematics still emblazoned on his computer screen, and the half finished wing on the workbench. He exhaled heavily. The wing was coming along very nicely, and he was close to getting it to the right thickness. Another day or so of work, and it would be done.

Then there would be nothing to keep Ultra Magnus from tossing Starscream in the brig for interrogation, as the Autobots who made a habit of standing in the doorway of the medbay to try and stare him down constantly reminded him. Arcee and Smokescreen were frequent visitors, and generally the most talkative. Smokescreen would try to gently convince him that he needed quit stalling, that everyone was getting really fragged off at him, as if the two of them were best friends and Smokescreen was genuinely concerned for him. Arcee preferred to remind Knock Out that Ultra Magnus could just throw him in the brig for insubordination at any moment and turn Starscream over to Ratchet. Any privileges he'd earned from switching sides would be lost. He'd be a criminal again, and then where would he be?

Wheeljack stopped by occasionally, but never said anything, just leaned against the doorway, his arms folded across his chest, glaring and occasionally making harsh scoffing noises. Knock Out did his best to ignore them all.

At least once, Knock Out had looked up from his workbench, feeling a familiar prickling on his spinal struts. He turned to look in the doorway and saw the stoic mech with the doorwings standing there, his face blank, optics hidden behind the icy blue visor. He hadn't said anything, just looked at Knock Out for a moment, turned his gaze to Starscream, then continued on his way, hands folded primly behind his back, posture ramrod straight.

He later learned, from Steve and the endless supply of information that was the Vehicon rumor mill, that the mech's name was Prowl. Knock Out had merely mumbled that it fit.

Part of Knock Out knew he was behaving stupidly about this. He should be grateful that he was even being allowed to repair Starscream at all. His standing in the Autobots' good graces was quickly wearing thin, and they could get tired of him at any moment. They had the power right now. All it took was a word from Ultra Magnus, or enough pressure from a few really loud voices, and that'd be it.

And still he fought, even if his only weapon at the moment was his defiance and his silence.

Coupled with all this were his still-jumbled mess of feelings towards Starscream. He'd been thinking about their conversation ever since that night, and he found it difficult not to let himself think back on it whenever his mind wasn't properly occupied. He just didn't know how to feel about any of this.

The very idea that Starscream cared for anything but himself almost seemed ludicrous. It was very easy to buy into the idea that Starscream was just a slimy little coward, only concerned with himself and his own well-being, that any and all goodwill he extended towards others was either a trick, or something to further his own ends. It certainly was the appearance he always strove to exude. But then Knock Out would think of that tiny, broken mech who'd stared up at him with a shattered optic, too exhausted to bite and snap with razor-edged words, instead speaking in a quavering voice about those who'd savaged him. The mech who, as soon as he'd had his senses about him, had gone right back to insulting and berating him, and still managing to throw Knock Out for a loop by admitting to protecting his plating from an irate Megatron. It was difficult to tell what was the mask and what wasn't.

It would have been infuriating if it weren't already totally exhausting.

The sigh that escaped him must have been louder than he thought, because Steve, who'd still been babbling this entire time (about what, Knock Out had no idea), immediately ground to a halt and sputtered out, "Um, sorry for getting so carried away with all the chatter, doc. I'll shut up now, if that's what you want."

Knock Out dragged himself away from his own angst, and gave Steve a small smile. "No, it's not you," he muttered, casting his gaze back to the floor as the heavy feeling crept back into his frame. "I'm just…thinking about things I shouldn't." That sounded insipid, but he couldn't think of a better way to say it, because it was the truth. He sat at his workbench, and picked through the scrap on the floor until he found a workable piece, despite the numbness in his fingers.

Steve took a few tentative steps towards the medic, and quietly said, "I'm still sorry. I know you've been having a rough time, and you don't need me prattling on like an idiot in the background."

Knock Out twiddled the scrap in his fingers, before sighing again (he was sighing so much these days; he felt like a human femme angry at her boyfriend), and saying, "You shouldn't be sorry. I really do appreciate you being here." One corner of his mouth tweaked in a smirk as he said, "Even if it is just to hear some babbling. It's much better than listening to my own thoughts."

Steve smiled broadly, almost lighting up the room. It was nice having someone around who emoted so freely, even if that was only because he didn't know anything about emotional subtlety. The Vehicon made his way over to the stool Knock Out had set up, in its customary position by Starscream's side. He sat, still facing Knock Out.

Well," he said cheerfully, "if babbling is what you need, I can babble." The Vehicon began walking over to the berth where Starscream lay, and Knock Out couldn't help but smile as Steve took his customary position in the stool nearby. "You should hear some of the crazy stuff that's going on in the barracks these days. Like, I got this friend who works on the bridge, everybody calls him Rodney, 'cause he really likes that human comedian. Ya know, 'No respect, no respect at all'?" Steve let out a short, barked laugh before continuing. "Anyway, Rodney used to work with Soundwave on the bridge, ya know, doing computers and stuff, and he tells my other buddy, Will, who tells his friend Tony, and Tony told me last night that Rodney has been sneaking peeks at Wheeljack's aft. Like, completely stopping what he's doing and staring at it as he walks by. Can you believe it? Somebody staring at that nut job's aft?" Steve nearly fell off his stool in a fit of giggling, and Knock Out had to admit that his attempts to contain his laughter only succeeded in making the scrap of metal he still held in his hands shake a little.

Eventually, a few chuckles bubbling up as he did, he said, "I sincerely hope that's the only thing your friend is attracted to about Wheeljack. Because I feel as though pursuing a relationship with him would only end badly."

"If you mean Wheeljack would probably skewer him the minute he tried to talk to him," Steve said, his hiccups of laughter dying down a bit, "I'm pretty sure Rodney knows that. He just…well, sometimes Rodney just can't keep his panel on, if you know what I mean." That got another chuckle out of him before he let out a loud sigh. "So how's that for babbling, doc?"

Knock Out let out a chuckle that made his shoulders bounce a bit, and said, "Perfect, Steve. Thank you. And I'll be sure to keep a med berth open, in case your friend decides to get brave about Wheeljack."

"Anything to help. You or Rodney," Steve said, his young, pale face still crinkled into a happy smile. Just looking at that smile made the heaviness that Knock Out had been feeling for the past day and a half feel like it'd been lifted right off his shoulders. He tried not to think about the way it was so different from Breakdown's own small, soft smiles, that only ever showed when something made him really happy.

"You ever need someone to fill a room with hot air, you just call me." Steve continued, spinning a bit on his stool so that he was now facing towards Starscream. Knock Out couldn't help but feel a soft warmth in his chest at the Vehicon's devotion. Even though he was fairly certain Steve had about as much chance with Starscream as his friend on the bridge did with Wheeljack, probably even less of a chance at this rate, it was still, well, sweet. Selfless care was not something he'd had much experience with during the war.

Suddenly, the smile slipped from Steve's face, replaced immediately with worry. Knock Out was shocked by the Vehicon suddenly laying a hand on Starscream's torso - something he'd never seen him do, no matter how obvious it was that his fingers itched to reach out and touch the seeker's hand. Steve immediately yanked his hand back with a surprised gasp, and said, "Doc, I think there's something wrong."

No sooner had the words left Steve's mouth than a monitor near Starscream's berth, one that tracked his vitals to make sure they were steady, began beeping steadily and loudly. Knock Out jumped from his seat at his workbench, pitching his stool over in the process, and rushed to Starscream's side. Steve managed to pull himself away to give Knock Out room, wringing his hands as Knock Out examined the monitor and his patient.

Heat practically radiated off Starscream's body, and the monitor was screeching now as it showed his internal temperatures rising steadily. Not even the sedatives were doing much good to stave off the pain of being slowly burned from the inside, and the prone seeker began whimpering in pain.

Knock Out turned to Steve and barked, "Go to the supply closet in the back and get me a tub of coolant gel. He's burning up. If we don't cool him down, his internals could start malfunctioning under the heat."

Steve was gone before Knock Out finished his sentence. Knock Out tried to maintain a calm, professional manner, but this was the sort of thing he'd been hoping to Primus they could avoid. Nightmares and unintelligible mumbling was one thing. Fevers like this could kill a flightless seeker. He muttered a curse under his breath as Starscream began to writhe, despite the sedatives, his whimpers growing louder and more pained.

Finally, Steve came racing back, a tub of fresh coolant clutched closely to his chest. Knock Out said, "Open it up and set it on that tray. Get a good glob of it and start spreading it all over his frame."

Steve obeyed, prying open the tub and tossing the lid aside. It fell to the floor with a clatter as Steve dunk his two main fingers into the gelled substance and started working it over Starscream's arms and chest. Knock Out reached in and started working it on Starscream's burning faceplates. Touching Starscream was like sticking his hand in an open flame, but still Knock Out worked alongside Steve. This close, he could here Starscream's cooling fans roaring away, sputtering occasionally under the strain, trying in vain to lower his temperature.

Layer upon layer, they spread the coolant over the feverish seeker. Every once in a while, one of them would have to stop and hold Starscream down as he convulsed in pain, so they could keep rubbing him down with the stuff, all while the monitor continued to blare at them.

After what seemed like hours, the monitor's beeping subsided completely. Starscream finally stilled, though Knock Out could still hear his cooling fans wheezing away, trying to stave off the last of the heat. The tub of coolant was almost completely gone. Starscream had a sheen of it that made him look freshly polished. Knock Out and Steve stood perfectly still for a few minutes more, as if, if they dared move an inch, the fever would come raging back.

Knock Out finally broke the silence. "I think everything is okay now," he said, his voice uncharacteristically quiet.

"What should we do now," Steve asked. He raised his gaze up to Knock Out, and the barely subdued panic there was almost painful to see.

"We should probably leave the coolant on there for now. It should help keep his body cool, so his fans aren't overtaxed. Once he gets back to a normal temperature, and I make sure his fans are still working properly, we can wipe it off, and let him continue resting."

Steve gave a limp nod. The panic never left his eyes.

After another few moments of silence, Knock Out sighed, muttering to himself, "I knew this was going to happen."

Steve spoke up and said, "This wasn't your fault, doc." Knock Out could tell he was trying and failing to keep his voice from shaking. "You said flight withdrawals could do stuff like this, but you had no way of knowing when it'd happen."

Knock Out let out a long sigh. He appreciated Steve's attempt, but he knew the truth. This had only happened because he was stalling with the wing repairs. His attempt to help Starscream stay out of the brig had nearly killed him. As much as he wanted to keep Starscream safe from those he knew weren't as upright as they claimed, he also knew he couldn't keep this up anymore. He couldn't turn Starscream into a tool for his own grievances. He may not know how he felt about Starscream at that moment, with his mix of friendship and distain for the mech, but he knew that he couldn't let him suffer like this anymore.

"We'll start the wing surgery first thing in the morning," Knock Out said, his voice so stern and professional it made Steve jump a little. "We have to. The next time, he might not be so lucky."

Steve nodded gravely, and once again, the silence hung between them, stark and suffocating.

It was late, and Knock Out ached all over. It had been hours since he finally sent Steve off to the Vehicon barracks to get some sleep, which had been next to impossible. Steve stuck by the seeker's side like glue, as the human's said, and trying every excuse he could think of to get Knock Out to let him stay, just in case something happened. But eventually, Knock Out managed to convince him that having him dead on his feet wouldn't be a help to anybody, and the Vehicon stumbled his way out.

Knock Out had been alone in the medbay since, trying to occupy his thoughts with the wing in front of him. It was almost finished, just a bit more whittling down for the proper thickness, and it'd be perfect for the reattachment tomorrow. He'd even given it a good buffing and polishing. It looked like it'd come right off an assembly line. But no matter what he did to distract himself, he couldn't shake the nausea churning his tanks.

Once the surgery was done, then Starscream would be an Autobot prisoner, to be interrogated so there could be more Autobot prisoners. Knock Out sighed again. He thought about packing it in for the night himself, but the idea of sleep was just as cringe-inducing as it was alluring right now. He had no idea what he'd see when he laid down in his berth and closed his eyes.

As Knock Out reached up a hand to massage his temples, which had suddenly started to throb for the second time in the last few hours, he suddenly became aware of a set of heavy footsteps, right outside the medbay. They stopped directly outside the door, and there was another beat of silence before the door swooshed open and they came inside.

Knock Out cast a glance over his shoulder, and saw Ultra Magnus coming towards him. The same, familiar tension was in the commander's frame, along with a tight, cool look that Knock Out could tell Magnus was trying to hold in place with every ounce of willpower his hulking body possessed.

He straightened himself out as Magnus came to a stop a respectful distance away, realizing that Knock Out's eyes were on him. He briefly reminded Knock Out of a chastened sparkling, dreading a conversation with its parents about something it'd done wrong.

"Good evening, doctor," Magnus finally managed to say.

Knock Out only gave a noncommittal grunt in acknowledgement.

"I have come to inquire about Starscream's repairs," Magnus continued after a few moments.

Only because I wouldn't tell your little lackeys anything, I suppose, Knock Out thought. He thought better than to say it. He would rather have Magnus make good on all the threats Arcee had made about being tossed in the brig for insubordination.

Instead, he took a deep, quiet breath, and, remaining as professional as he could, said, "The wing replacement is ready to be reattached. That's happening first thing in the morning." Then, a tinge of sadness creeping into his voice, Knock Out added, "We can't afford to wait any longer."

Magnus gave him a confused look, but before he could ask, Knock Out explained, "His flight withdrawal symptoms are getting worse. His temperature spiked dramatically, though luckily, it was brought down before it caused any damage. I looked over everything myself. He should be fine for the surgery tomorrow. The recovery should only take a few days."

Magnus simply nodded, although it was clear he wanted to say something. What, Knock Out could only guess. The tension in Magnus' frame only seemed to increase as they simply stood there, staring at each other. The commander's jaw was set so tightly, the struts in his neck and back so rigid that they looked ready to give under the pressure, leaving Magnus in a heap of metal.

Knock Out recalled a few days ago, when he'd seen Magnus sitting by himself, pretending to be absorbed in a data pad. He'd looked exactly like he did now, and Knock Out realized it was almost painful to watch. He thought about how much the commander had to deal with now, things that would usually have fallen to Optimus. But now Magnus was left to do it all on his own, maybe with some help, but Knock Out guessed not much.

Then he thought about Steve, how much he enjoyed having the Vehicon wandering around. The extra set of hands was nice, but what he liked more was just having someone to talk to.

He wondered if Magnus had anything like that. And really, he already knew the answer was no.

Despite everything, that made him feel awful for the commander. And that gave him an idea.

Knock Out's voice was like a gunshot through the thick silence as he asked, "Magnus, are you feeling alright?"

The commander seemed legitimately taken aback by the question, like he was totally unused to people asking such questions. After a moment, he regained his composure, and said, "Yes, doctor, I'm fine. I just…I've been feeling tense as of late. It's unpleasant, but it's nothing I can't deal with."

"You don't have to," Knock Out said, his own posture relaxing a little bit as he settled on what he planned to ask of Magnus. "Ya know, since I'm done with Starscream's wing, I could help you with some of it. I find a nice buffing generally helps with things like this. What do you say?"

Magnus looked as if Knock Out had just asked him to frag right there on the medbay floor. A small blush pooled at the commander's cheeks as he stammered, "I don't think so, doctor. I'm perfectly capable of handling this on my own."

Knock Out didn't let it slip that easily though. "Really Magnus," he said, "I insist. Consider it an…apology present for the way I acted the other day."

That time, Magnus gave Knock Out a look like he'd ask him to frag him on top of Starscream. Were random acts of kindness so foreign to this guy?

"A-alright then," Magnus stammered. Knock Out merely gave him a quick smile, and motioned for the commander to follow him.

"All my supplies are in the back," he told Magnus, "and it's probably best we do it back here anyway, so we don't disturb Starscream."

Magnus just nodded dumbly as he followed the medic to the back part of the medbay, where Knock Out stored various tools and cleaning supplies until he needed them. Knock Out pulled out a large tool box, and began giddily digging around. He was much more excited about this than he first thought, realizing that it'd been quite some time since he'd actually used any of his polishing tools, even on himself. With Shockwave metaphorically breathing down his neck for those last few weeks of the war, it'd been hard to slip away. Even if it was for someone else, Knock Out felt like an artist returning to his canvas, ready to make something beautiful.

He dug out his buffer and a tub of wax, applying a generous helping of it on the soft pad before flicking it on. The soft whir was so wonderfully familiar to Knock Out that he almost melted into a puddle of goo right there.

Knock Out decided to start with Magnus' shoulders and upper back. That seemed to be where he carried most of his tension. As soon as the buffer made contact with his plating, Magnus started a bit. Knock Out couldn't help but smile. Underneath all that military snootiness, he was realizing, Magnus was a bit of a dork.

The effects of the buffing were almost instantaneous. After a few minutes of making gentle circles on Magnus' right shoulder, one could already see the tension dripping from his frame like wax from a melting candle. Knock's smile grew a bit wider knowing that it was working.

"Listen, Magnus," he said over the gentle whirs, moving to the middle of Magnus' back. "I really am sorry about losing my cool like that the other day. I…I really should have looked at things from where you were coming from. Not every Decepticon is as easy to sway as me, I suppose."

Magnus looked over his shoulder and down at him, and said, "There is no need to apologize, doctor. I understand why you felt the need to say what you did. And truthfully, you are not wrong." Knock Out moved to the left shoulder as Magnus continued, "I know that there are bots under my command that have grudges, and who are not disciplined enough to be entrusted with something as delicate as interrogating potential war criminals." Magnus let out a small sigh, as if thinking about something that disturbed him greatly. "My soldiers are not perfect. I will be the first one to admit that. And I will be the first one to admit that we must handle this situation with great tact and caution."

Knock Out worked his way down to Magnus' lower back, and it was plainly obvious the commander was having a difficult time holding himself up then. Knock Out resolved to make this part quick. Last thing he needed was to try and hoist Magnus up off the floor.

"That is why," Magnus said, his voice wavering a bit, though he quickly righted himself, "I would like to ask a favor of you."

"And what favor might that be?" Knock Out asked as he moved to the backs of Magnus' arms.

"Because you a former Decepticon yourself, I wonder if you might be willing to act as a sort of advisor to me on this situation. Though we would still have Starscream for his intelligence, and I assure you that I will make sure he is treated with the utmost security and respect," Magnus looked over his shoulder again at that comment, to see if Knock Out was listening, before continuing, "I would appreciate it if we had someone who understood the Decepticon mindset who'd be more willing to work with us. I believe you would be perfect for that, doctor."

As Knock Out moved from Magnus' right side to his chest, he said, "I'm flattered by the offer, Magnus." Flashing a warm smile up at the commander as he began to buff his midsection, he added, "I'd be happy to help you. I only wish we'd managed to come to such an agreement earlier." Knock Out let out a bit of a chuckle. "It certainly would have saved us both a lot of a headache."

"I apologize for taking so long to finally come to such an understanding," Magnus replied, giving his own soft smile. His eyes, instead of harboring their usual hardness, held a much more passionate flame in them now. "I do not wish to reignite the conflict between the factions, Knock Out. I told this you was not about vengeance. I will make sure to keep it that way."

Knock Out merely widened his smile and gave Magnus a nod. "Now then," he said, "enough politics! You're here to relax, and politics is the exact opposite of relaxing."

He slowly brought the buffer up to Magnus' chest, and felt so very proud of his skills when Magnus let out a long, contented sigh and actually closed his eyes.

Knock Out didn't know what possessed him to start talking again, but he said, "My old partner was a maestro with this thing, ya know. Could buff out even the toughest scratches, to the point where you wouldn't even realize they'd been there." He trailed off a bit, concentrating on the spin of the buffer, thinking about two large, blue hands with bulky fingers holding it instead of his own.

"I was unaware you had a partner," Magnus said.

"Had is the key word," Knock Out said, avoiding Magnus' eyes. Dear Primus, why was he babbling? "He's dead." Even now, saying the words hurt. Magnus looked like he was going to open his mouth to speak again, but Knock Out cut him off and kept talking, "We used to do this all the time. Of course, I'd always make him buff me. He'd laugh at me all the time about it. Called me prissy, said I was a waste of the wax. The big dope." Knock Out didn't feel like laughing, but he forced it out anyway.

"I'm sorry," was all Magnus said in the quick moment of silence that followed.

Knock Out looked up at him, blue eyes staring down at him, the passion now joined by real, honest sympathy. It was something Knock Out hadn't seen in a long time. He felt a familiar warmth in his chest that he couldn't quite place.

"You're the first one who's said something like that," he said, moving to the last spot on Magnus' chest that required a bit of wax. The commander was so shiny, Knock Out could see his own sad face reflected in his chest.

"Given my own circumstances, I felt as though I should," Magnus replied.

Knock Out stopped the buffer, and looked up into Magnus' eyes again. His bright blue eyes that had lost all their previous anxiety. "I'm sorry about Optimus," Knock Out said simply.

Magnus nodded in reply.

Taking a deep breath, Knock Out shoved the whirlwind of emotions down where they bubbled up from, and gave Magnus a broad smile. "You should be all fixed up here," he said. "How do you feel?"

Magnus gingerly rolled a few joints and stretched a few struts, seemingly amazed at how smooth they moved now. "Much better, doctor. Thank you."

They stood in silence as Knock Out put his tools back where they went. After a moment, Magnus said, "Doctor, should you ever require my assistance, you should not hesitate to ask. My commlink is always open."

The comment seemed to come out of nowhere, but Knock Out found he appreciated it nonetheless. "Thank you. I'll be sure to remember that," he said. Then, after thinking for a moment, he added, "The same goes for you, Magnus."

Knock Out swore he saw that same blush from earlier creep back into Magnus' face as he nodded and walked out. Knock Out smiled and slid his buffing kit back on the shelf where it belonged.

He suddenly felt tired, but, for the first time in a while, in a good way. His berth sounded like an excellent place to be right now. As he made his way to the door, he stopped for a moment as he came to Starscream's med berth. The seeker slept peacefully on it, his chest rising and falling rhythmically, like he hadn't almost died today. A wave of relief for that washed over Knock Out.

He quickly walked back to the storage area, and dug out a tarp. He usually saved it to cover things and prevent them from getting dusty or peaked at, but he thought it would make a nice makeshift blanket for the night. He carefully placed it over Starscream, even tucking it in a bit.

After he was properly satisfied with it, he walked to the door, lowered the lights, and left for his quarters, the doors to the medbay gently sliding shut behind him.

A/N: So...um...yeah, that took forever. Sorry about the wait you guys. Things just got really crazy, and my poor fic just kinda slipped away from me. Isn't that always how it goes? Thanks for being so very patient with me while I plodded this thing out.

Cheers,
Lavender Cat