Concerned, he sat forward, giving Jolt a little shake. Jolt stayed still, his optics dark. Another shake, this one harder. "Hey. Stay with me here," he said, raising his voice. "Jolt. Wake up."

"Mmn?"

"Wake up. Talk to me."

Jolt mumbled a negative, moving to bury his head under the other's. "Hurts," was all he said coherently.

"Why?" Sideswipe pressed, tightening his arms around blue armor. He had to keep Jolt alert. The last thing either of them needed was for him to fall into stasis. There was still no response from the others, and his energy levels, oddly enough, were already beginning to fall. "What happened down there...?"

"I don't... remember," Jolt murmured, stirring. "I tried... grabbing onto something. And... guess it didn't work." His head tilted as he glanced down at his heavily damaged arm. "Then I landed on my head... or something..." A lengthy pause while he tried to gather his thoughts. "I don't remember the whip... it just... happened."

"Glad it did," Sidesiwpe told him, his voice suddenly thick. He blinked, slowly shaking his head from side to side. The persistent warning he'd ignored was back. And now, with his friend finally safe, he had a moment to check on it. He ran a diagnostic—a short one, just to check on what was so important. Everything checked out, save for one, glaring problem.

FUEL LINE BREACH.

Not... good.

It explained the rapidly decreasing energy in his systems, but far from the news he needed. It must have been the shoulder—the hook on the whip's end must have done the deed when Jolt had tried removing it. Considering he was still online... maybe it was only a small breach. Maybe his auto-repair function could get it taken care of before it became too much of a problem. So, he said nothing, instead opting to pepper Jolt with questions when it seemed the other Autobot was drifting again.

Of course, this plan hinged on Sideswipe's staying conscious until help arrived. Listening to Jolt answer his mundane little questions, he half fell offline once. Only the feeling of his head dropping forward stopped him. Returning to full consciousness, he felt Jolt's optics on him, and the slow drip of fluid down his shoulder armor.

Very not good.

"Sideswipe?" Once again, Jolt shifted, turning slightly to look at him. Long fingers brushed over his faceplates, gently. A good sign, if the blue Autobot felt up to moving. "You okay...?"

"Mm... Only resting," he slurred. "Hard work... pulling you up..." His head leaned into the touch, savoring it as something to keep his processor focused. "Just... hey... tell me about... this tree."

Stunned silence.

"Are... you sure you're okay?" Jolt asked, sounding even more concerned—as concerned as one could sound, coming from down a long tunnel. When had Jolt gone down a tunnel? He could have sworn the other was right there, curled against him. "You... just asked me to talk about a tree."

He shook himself, trying to reboot his optics. They were malfunctioning. That had to be why they were suddenly going dim. Why it was suddenly getting colder... he didn't know. Maybe the wind had picked up again. "M'fine," he said, finally. "Fine... jus'... keep talking to me..."

"If... you're sure."

Jolt got as far as the scientific name of their sheltering conifer before his vision went dark. He felt himself slide sideways, heard someone, distantly, anxiously, calling his name, as everything shut down.

::I believe we're lost.::

::Are not.::

::We have not seen any sign of the road in hours. My navigation systems tell us we're headed in entirely the wrong direction. And I have seen that tree at least three times by now.::

::I know where we are.::

::Oh? Really? Please, enlighten me. I'd like to inform Prime of our position the next time I have to thaw your joints out.::

::It was one wrong turn. How much longer are you going to bring that up?::

::Until you, Ironhide, concede to the fact that you have no idea where we are.::

Silence.

::We are on earth.::

The frustrated rev of an engine needed no translation. Neither did the superior chuckle from the other vehicle.

Despite the worsening storm, Ironhide wasn't lying when he said he knew where they were. Unlike some, who would remain silver, egocentric, and nameless, he'd downloaded topographical maps, overlaid them with public and logging roadways, and passed the data on to his partner. Coupled with his internal compass, navigating the wilderness was simple enough.

Or at least, it would have been, had his audials not been lectured into static by the Autobot following closely on his tailgate. The way Ratchet stuck close to him, it was as if the medic actually thought it was possible for them to become separated on these winding backroads. Once or twice, Ironhide purposefully slammed on his breaks, mostly out of curiosity—to see if his friend would actually ram into his rear bumper. So far, his tailgate remained free of any neon paint. Although, that would have been a more convenient way to explain why other parts of him were similarly scraped...

Well, in his defense, it had been cold and his joints were locking up. There hadn't been another viable option. But it had been a while since—

He was snapped out of his musings, thankfully, as they were quickly veering off into territory best left unexplored, by the sudden blaring of a distress signal. Brakes slammed on, throwing up huge washes of snow.

::Ratchet.::

He needn't have bothered saying anything at all. ::I have it. Tracking it now.::

With the ease of long familiarity, he slowed, allowing the medic to take the lead. Ratchet's scanners were more attuned to this sort of thing, and his vehicle mode could plow the way through without his help. Best the medic arrived first anyway – if there was a problem, he was best equipped to handle it.

::It's Jolt,:: Ratchet announced, picking up speed and veering to the east. ::Seems as if they've gone off course.::

::Going to scrap that fender foot when I see him,:: Ironhide retorted. ::I told them to pay attention. You heard me.::

::Yes, I did. Several times.::

::Too busy making infatuated faces at each other... Eugh.::

Of all the pairings... the most overconfident had to join forces with the Autobot most likely to run into trouble. One didn't plan, and the other felt he didn't need to. What could possibly have possessed whatever higher power existed to throw both of them to Earth, and then made them like each other? It simply wasn't fair. If they weren't being peeled out of a crater in the tarmac somewhere, their respective afts were being pieced back together in the medbay. Ironhide was of the opinion his silver student should have known better—that the recklessness was hardly Jolt's fault. After all, the stocky little Autobot did what he could to fit in, and fought well. Wasn't his fault he'd fallen in with a Corvette who did nothing to discourage Jolt's spontaneous streak.

His grumbling silenced as Ratchet began slowing, weaving through trees. They had to be getting closer. And, in short order, the medic had transformed, kneeling before a snowdrift, and brushing away the powder with careful hands. Every motion brought out another flash of bright armor, mingled blue and silver, and the weapons master suddenly felt his spark drop a few inches in his scarred old chest. Both Autobots were sprawled on their side, practically clinging to one another. Jolt's body was the most obviously damaged, while Sideswipe seemed unmarked, save for a frozen puddle of fluid beneath one shoulder. He took a step forward.

"I have life signs from both of them," Ratchet told him automatically. Steam was rising from his armor, snowflakes melting on contact as his internal temperature kicked up to levels any other frame would have difficulty handling. "They'll be fine once I bring them around." His hands hovered over the worst injuries, letting the accumulated ice melt before any serious repairs were begun. He looked up, briefly meeting his partner's gaze before turning back to work. It was all the reassurance he needed to give. "See if you can contact the others. We need evac immediately."

Nodding, he moved off, keeping a lock on Ratchet's signal. The last thing they needed was to get completely separated out here. But with the trees helping to obscure contact, there was no choice but to move into a clear area, if they wanted to get any sort of signal out. Whatever these two had gotten into, they could explain later, he decided, grimly stepping over a fallen tree nearly twice his size. Right now, following the doctor's orders was priority, to ensure there could be an interrogation later.

It seemed, however, that luck was on their side. The storm was dying down as he reached a clearing, and Prime was within range. The mission was quickly scrubbed in favor of evac, and in short order, helicopters had flown in to the scene, collecting the unconscious pair, as well as the hovering medic for return to base, and more effective medical attention.

When he came back online, it was all at once, a sudden rush of systems rebooting, of air into cooling vents, and sensation back into long limbs. At first, he had no idea of where he was. The last thing he remembered was the forest. Jolt's voice. Cold. And then nothing. His optics were still coming back, flooding his vision with a blur of white, and too-bright lights. He stirred, raising a hand to cover his them, only to have it pushed back down by a heavy, rough hand.

"Easy," someone said, their voice a low rumble. "Doc' said you were not to come online so soon... guess he was wrong. For once."

He relaxed immediately, hearing that. A smirk tugged at his faceplates. "Took you long enough, Old Timer," he murmured. "Roads too rough for you?"

The taunt earned him a nudge in the shoulder. "Should beat some respect into you for that one," Ironhide grumbled. "But you did enough damage on your own. Both of you."

A beat of silence, before he started struggling to sit up. Everything felt sluggish, slow and tired, as if he were still half-frozen out there. Jolt—where was Jolt? Once again, Ironhide forced him back down, muttering what anyone else would have heard as curses. "I said take it easy," he barked. "Unless you want the medic dismantling your motor centers, you will listen. Hmnf!"

Sullen, the silver Autobot did as he was told, finally taking stock of his situation. His shoulder was patched, the welds as flawless as ever. A temporary refueling line ran from an opened arm panel to one of the reserve stocks of energon. Several space heaters—space heaters of all things—were placed at intervals around him, providing for a comfortable warmth against his exterior plating. The room itself was unfamiliar, save for the big, black Autobot standing guard beside him, which meant they were still on-site. He rather hoped the weather was the reason for the delay, and not other factors.

"How is he?" he asked, pretending to be incredibly interested in the fuel line.

"Functioning," Ironhide said. "Arm is going to take a while to mend, but... Ratchet has him well in hand. Minor damage elsewhere." A creak of metal as the elder warrior shrugged. "Nothing he cannot fix."

Shuttering his optics, he allowed himself a weak, relieved sound. Neither spoke for a few moments, one to absorb the news, and the other to wait for him.

"Asking for you, too," Ironhide went on, after a moment. Sideswipe turned his head toward him, quirking an optic ridge. In response, he received another shrug, accompanied by an embarrassed mutter of explicatives best left unprinted. Smirking, he spared his teacher further humiliation, and looked away. "You want to go, or what?"

A scarred black hand came into view, and, without a hesitation, Sideswipe grasped it. Ironhide hauled him to his feet without comment, pausing only long enough to steady the slender Autobot while Sideswipe detached the external fuel line, before starting out of the little room. To the younger's credit, he only wobbled a few times, before his balancing gyros took over. He felt all right, even if diagnostics were reading low fuel levels. It would be enough for now. Still, Ironhide hovered after him, like a sort of protective shadow. They both knew what that meant—and neither chose to comment on it.

The pair moved out into an unfamiliar hangar. It was obvious the walls of the little room they'd left had been hastily constructed. A few other "cubicles" were spaced out across the hangar floor, as NEST personnel wandered here and there around them, servicing vehicles, talking, and even reporting to the massive red and blue form standing near the hangar doors.

Optimus.

Sideswipe pointedly looked away, waiting for Ironhide to guide him along. He could make his report to Prime later. For now, he had someone more important to speak with.

He was led to another cubicle, and nodded inside. No further prompting was necessary. He slipped in, glancing warily around for a neon form. Finding none, his attention focused solely on the bright blue form curled on the table. There were fresh welds all over blue armor, dents hammered out, and scrapes smoothed over. More space heaters were placed around Jolt, and his optics were offlined, the stocky Autobot deep in recharge for the moment.

That, however, did not stop him. He eased over to the table, leaning on it for support. His shoulder ached, but he ignore it for the sake of reaching out to run his fingers lightly over Jolt's faceplates. There was a drowsy murmur, but no other reaction. He smirked. Ducking his head, he rested his forehead against the other's, shuttering his optics. Safe... his little blue warrior was safe. He'd done it.

A fact only reinforced by long fingers suddenly reaching up to touch his shoulder. The smirk broadened into a real smile. "Hey," he murmured, his voice low, only for the Autobot on the table. "How's your head, hm?"

The little grumble told him everything he needed to know. He chuckled, not moving away, or even opening his optics. The tugging on his shoulder grew more insistent, and he couldn't resist. It took some maneuvering, some jostling on Jolt's part, but eventually, the pair ended up curled together on the table. Sideswipe's head lay on Jolt's chest, his legs wound around the other's. Jolt's fingers trailed up and down silver spinal armor, his other working into patches of Sideswipe's plating.

For an instant, the moments of panic resurfaced in both of their processors, quickly chased away by reassuring touches, by the pulse of another spark nearby. But it could have ended up so very different. This hadn't even been a combat scenario, and they'd nearly lost one another. It could never... never happen again.

"I'm... going to promise you something," Sideswipe said, softly, hesitating. It sounded ridiculous in his head. How was it going to sound aloud?

Jolt's only answer was a quiet laugh. "You don't have to," he said. "I get it."

There was silence for a moment, until Sideswipe himself chuckled, and curled tighter around his companion, thankful he was understood, without having to voice anything at all. They remained sprawled together for the rest of Jolt's recovery—much to Ratchet's annoyance.

After all, they'd promised.