"What -- ?" Arcee's optics dim with confusion, just a touch of that fear and betrayal he'd seen once before -- but this is almost purely uncomprehending, because what he says just doesn't make any sense. But she shakes her head -- he's down to the wire on energon and that can really mess with your processor, and Prime or no, what he's been through is traumatic any way you spell it. He needs to refuel first, before anything. Then -- then they can talk. Arcee drops to a crouch and opens the first aid kit, drawing out a portable infusion pump. She's no Ratchet, but she's had basic field first aid training, and he needs it.

"You need energon," she says, her voice hushed, as she loads the infusion pump. "Don't worry, Optimus. I've got you."

It hardly feels like enough, though. Arcee is careful as she connects the infusion pump to a port in his arm -- his good arm. Her optics dart to his other arm, at the energon streaked down his plating from the damaged joint, and it feels like someone's just punched a hole right through her injured midsection. This isn't how this mission was supposed to go.

"I'm sorry." There's just the slightest catch in her vocalizer before she resets it -- the words come out heavy, subdued.