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The crack of the rifle seemed to stop Smokescreen's spark. But what really made it stutter was the way Halfsteel staggered back against him.
"Steel? Steel?!" Smokescreen tried to support his friend's (no, his lover's) weight with his arms, but Halfsteel felt so heavy. Smokescreen lowered him to the ground as gently as he could, calling for help. "Triage! Someone get Triage up here now!"
Smokescreen knew already, though. Even though Halfsteel's hand was pressed to his chest, richly pink energon pulsed from the hole in his plating.
There was so much energon. Smokescreen knew it was too much. Halfsteel was losing too much.
"Steel!" Smokescreen slapped his hand over Halfsteel's, trying to hold in the energon, trying to keep his best friend, his lover, his promised consort, from bleeding out in his arms. But even as Triage reached them through the crowd that had gathered around them, Halfsteel's colours were already starting to grey. His optics wandered blindly, and his lips moved as though soundlessly trying to speak.
"Hang in there, Steel," Smokescreen said urgently as Triage replaced Halfsteel's hand with his own, working to stem the flow. Smokescreen took Halfsteel's energon-soaked hand in his, clasping it tightly to his own chest. "Please. Hang on. You'll be all right, Steel. You have to be all right."
Halfsteel's gorgeous golden optics, their light dimming with every passing moment, finally found Smokescreen's. His mouth opened again, sounding out silent words that Smokescreen couldn't understand.
"Shh, Steel. Save your strength. You'll be all right. Triage will fix you right up." But as Smokescreen spoke, Halfsteel seemed to grow even heavier. A long slow gust of air escaped his vents as his helm lolled backwards against Smokescreen's chest. Smokescreen clutched at Halfsteel more tightly, and spoke even more urgently. "No. No! Steel, please. Please! You'll be fine. Look at me. Look at me! I love you. Please, hang on. Please!" Smokescreen knew he was babbling, but maybe so long as he kept talking, Halfsteel would listen, which meant he was alive, which meant that Smokescreen wouldn't be alone, wouldn't have to face life without him. "Please. I can't do all of this without you. I need you!"
The corners of Halfsteel's mouth turned up, just like they always did when he gave Smokescreen one of his shy smiles. But then, his golden optics, which had looked upon Smokescreen with such care and love over the past vorn, flickered, and faded, and went out.
Blind to anything else happening around him, Smokescreen clutched his lover's limp, dead weight to his chest, and sobbed.
"Smokey? What's wrong?"
The pillow and berth covers were tangled in Smokescreen's digits where he'd clenched his hands into fists. His spark spun erratically as Smokescreen gasped, grief overwhelming his processor. He tried to steady his ventilations, and he stared out into the darkened room, disoriented.
A hand slid over his waist and a comforting warm form pressed against his back. In his spark, a familiar presence enveloped him with sleepy confusion and a deep concern. "Are you all right?" Warm air vented onto the back of his neck. "Is it the sparkling? Should I get the guards to call Triage?"
And the sound of that voice, reality settled back over Smokescreen like a balm. Remembered loss still ricocheted around in his mind, but now he was able to separate what was fiction from what was true. He leaned back into Halfsteel's embrace, turning his helm to see his bondmate's gorgeous golden optics peering over his shoulder. "I'm... I'm fine. It was just a dream," Smokescreen said, static playing at the edges of his voice. "It was just a really bad dream."
Halfsteel's concern gradually gave way to relief that swirled over their bond. "I can imagine. You felt really upset," Halfsteel said, then gently kissed Smokescreen's cheek. "Did you want to talk about it?"
Smokescreen carefully rolled over to face his consort. Halfsteel's optics were still dim with recharge, but his attention was firmly focused on Smokescreen. "I dreamt about you getting shot again," Smokescreen said. He glanced up at Halfsteel's right sensor wing, and at the healed-over scar that marred its otherwise smooth surface. "Only this time you-" His words disappeared into feedback at even trying to describe what his subconscious had just shown him. He reset his vocalizer and tried again. "Only this time you got shot in the chest. And you died."
"I didn't." Halfsteel smiled and touched the side of Smokescreen's helm. "I'm still here. I'm all right."
"I know." Smokescreen closed his optics and turned his helm to kiss Halfsteel's palm. "It just felt really... real." He glanced up at Halfsteel's scarred wing again and shuddered. "I came so close to losing you."
"Well, I came really close to losing you, too," Halfsteel said. Across their bond came an affectionate nudge of care. "You were the target. I just got in the way."
"You pushed me out of the way. You saved my life," Smokescreen said firmly, then pulled a full vent cycle as he willed his spark back to its normal, calm spin. He caught Halfsteel's hand, twining their digits together. "I'm so glad you're still here. I don't know what I'd do without you."
Halfsteel's smile softened. "You'd go on. You'd lead Praxus. You're stronger than you know."
Smokescreen closed his optics and basked in the love Halfsteel was sending him over their bond. "I suppose. I just hope I won't have to go on without you for a very long time."
"Well, I'm not planning on going anywhere. Especially not with this one on the way," Halfsteel said, pulling his hand free of Smokescreen's and placing it against Smokescreen's chest. The love from Halfsteel became threaded with a tiny wisp of anticipation. "Can you feel them yet?"
"No, Steel. It's way too early for me to sense them," Smokescreen laughed, but he focused his attention inwards, towards the tiny bead of light he knew was circling his spark. He couldn't feel anything from it, not yet, but Triage had promised him that he might feel the first flashes from their creation in a few decacycles. He felt his own little thrill of anticipation, thinking forward to the moment he first felt that new presence. What would it feel like? Smokescreen couldn't wait to find out. "Trust me. You'll be the first to know when I do."
Halfsteel kissed Smokescreen's chevron. "All right. I'll try to be patient."
Smokescreen was comfortably warm, pressed against Halfsteel, their legs tangled together. He felt himself relaxing into his consort's embrace. "And after I can sense them, once we know the newspark is viable, I'll be very happy to make a formal announcement. I can't wait to finally stop fielding questions about heirs."
Halfsteel chuckled. "Yes, I'm sure this will get a few of them off of your back. Although I think some members of the Court already suspect, especially after you almost drifted off into recharge during that last budgeting meeting."
"Yeah, I think you're right." With his spark's spin finally settling, recharge was welling back up to reclaim Smokescreen. He opened his optics (when had he closed them?) and looked at Halfsteel. "Hold me until I fall back into recharge?" he asked.
"Of course," Halfsteel said, and pulled Smokescreen's frame against his more firmly. "I'll be right here."