A/M: After careful deliberation, I've decided that I want to share this ship I have with y'all. I looked on both this site and Ao3, and as far as I can tell, I'm the only one who ships these two. I got the idea for these two from journal129's story Brightened Sparks, which is an awesome story which you should go check out. okay, without any further ado, here's the ship no-one asked for!

She shouldn't have gone. She should've just searched the database and left it at that. But she had known him, once upon a time, and nothing would be more fun than chasing him down. Too many detective stories over the last couple weeks, she guessed. She never expected what she found when she found him.

It took two hours of tracking down his signal, and exactly one minute, 22 seconds to catch him. The rain poured down around them as he transformed on a back road with cracking pavement. She expected some sense of triumph, maybe some pride. Instead, she felt…she wasn't sure what she felt. She wasn't sure what he felt, either. Normally she could read him, but then again, that was a long time ago.

They just…locked optics for a breem of silenced shock. In the end, she moved first, a single, almost disbelieving step toward him. Yes, she'd found him, but could it really be him? After all this time? He copied the movement, then closed the distance a couple more steps. She had moved first, but he spoke first. "Moonracer?"

It was a quiet whisper, barely discernable above the pounding of rain against the leaves. His crimson optics searched her azure ones, finding in them the same sort of sad questioning she saw in his. "Knock Out." How had it come to this? What had happened that they met on opposite sides of the War? Why had she not tried to find him first?

He didn't say anything as they both surveyed each other. They had the same alt mode, ironically enough, so many of the component car parts were the same. Her clean mint green stood out in stark contrast with the muddy brown and vibrant green of the forest around them. His pristine cherry red was as striking as it had been after she prettied him up for his first race back on Cybertron so many vorns ago.

She took another step closer, and they were now close enough that one could reach out and touch the other. He slowly took her tiny hand in his clawed one, raising them up as the fingers aligned perfectly. She gave a small, sad, breathy chuckle, one he echoed. She swept him in a relieved embrace, and they held it for she didn't even care how long.

He was alive. They were both alive. And nowhere on him did she a Decepticon insignia.

What followed was a delicate game of balance. It didn't take either of them long to decide that they wanted to keep seeing each other. He told her about his new job as an Avenger, she spoke of her being a scout, sniper, and comms expert. Both of their jobs afforded a certain degree of freedom, if one could take advantage of the gaps in schedules. A system was neatly, quickly, and cleverly worked out.

For the first couple weeks, she went out for a nighttime drive every third lunar cycle between 11 and 2. She used the SpaceBridge to take her places, randomizing the location every night. Once she established the routine and proved she could continue to perform her duties with ease, they stopped checking on her. Likewise, Knock Out did the same thing, giving them both the time and freedom to rendezvous between 11 and 2 wherever they liked.

They traded off on location, communicating through a secret, secure, private, long-distance comm channel. He only sent static bursts of Morse Code which she decrypted. She sent distorted Cybertronian in a Kalisian street dialect. Between those, if anyone was to overhear the secret communiques, it would take them a while to decrypt them, and that was if they ever found it.

She knew she wasn't supposed to be doing it. He had leeway. What did it matter whom he saw and why? He was an ex-Decepticon on a team of ex-Decepticons working under a human as Avengers. But she was still an Autobot, a low ranking one at that. Should they ever discover who she was meeting with, not even Primus himself could step in and save her.

She couldn't stop herself, though. She loved him then, she loved him now. The difference was barely noticeable, save the penalty for this would've been mere court marshalling and incarceration. Back then, it'd have been death. She still slipped out every third lunar cycle to meet with him, to drive and laugh and pull stunts and perform vigilante justice. She wouldn't stop because she had no desire to.

So yes, it was a terrible idea that was likely to get them both in trouble one of those solar cycles, but who could stop them? She was careful, he was careful, and as long as they both stayed careful, as they'd done way back when, no-one would know.

Yes, she shouldn't have gone. But she never let that stop her.