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There are many aspects of a flyer-grounder relationship that are often posed as obstacles.
For one, flyers need time in the air or they start to lose their minds while grounders need time driving or their joints start to freeze up. Another was that most grounders have an inherent instinctual fear of flying and great heights while most flyers have a similar fear of tunnels and underground spaces.
Lugnut and Strika had worked through their share of obstacles with their relationship and remained utterly devoted and in love with each other. When Strika got injured and required ventilators, respirators, and inhalers, Lugnut had been the one to fetch them for her. Likewise, Strika had constantly been working around and adjusting things to aid her conjunx, like creating holders for datapads and energon cubes to fit his servos and transcribing notes for him.
But the third obstacle that neither of them had anticipated encountering was the issue of crashing.
Flyers were, to an extent, designed to be able to crash into the ground from a great height. Lugnut was even built for it, with no root mode wings and reinforced armor. He could fall at speeds and from heights greater than the seekers could. It wasn't uncommon for him to bail out of a battle by transforming back into a bot and letting himself plummet to the ground, either hitting it like a meteor or using the momentum to aid in expanding the range of his POKE explosion.
Strika could also crash, albeit in ground collisions and to a lesser extent. She was no stranger to the idea of driving straight through a battle, plowing down all who weren't quick enough to dive out of her way. But when the collision was with something larger or stronger than her, she would do the opposite of her love, slowing herself by hitting the brakes, swerving to the side, or transforming back into root mode and tumbling forward.
Simply put, Strika could not crash from the sky.
Which was an issue at the moment considering she was currently free-falling downwards from the lower layers of the atmosphere toward the ground.
The ship she had been on literally split apart beneath her. Before she had been able to lunge for remnants of the ship that were still intact, the sky swallowed her. She has a brief moment of confusion where she doesn't understand what's going on and why she's not on the ship before the panic sets in.
Strika can't feel anything around her but the wind. No ground, no floor, no arms holding her tight, just nothing. Her spark is pounding and she manages to flip herself so she's at least facing the ground and watching it swiftly approach. Had she been about to land in a desert or snow bank she would be calmer. But the rough unrelenting dirt that lay before her promises no give.
She's faintly aware that someone is yelling at her on her comm but her processor can't think. Fear is consuming her wholly and she has the horrifying thought that maybe this is how she dies.
Some relief comes as she realizes she's destined to land in a large body of water surrounded by organic plant life. But it's quickly killed off by the knowledge that the surface tension of the water was as hard as that of the ground. It's in the last seconds before impact that she has the sense to tense herself and brace for collision.
Breaking through the water's surface hurts more than she expects. The pain radiates outwards, crawling across her armor and sinking in between gaps in the plating. Water consumes her completely, cold and sharp against sensitive metal. Before she can even fully process everything, she's hitting the bottom, a cloud of murky substrate blooming up around her and obscuring the once clear liquid.
For a moment, there's peace. She's too stunned to move and the pain has yet to rush in. She's enveloped in icy water and grit and all of her sensors have given up on trying to process the information about her and simply gone offline.
When she realizes that she's still alive, that's when the pain comes hurtling in. Every sensor fires back online and she chokes out a muffled gasp as every part of her screams in agony. Most concerning of all was her respirator mask getting damaged in the fall. She can feel water leaking in around the edges and her coolant system is taking forever to kick on.
As she fumbles to move, she feels the water near her being disrupted by something and can faintly hear shouting from above. Arms wrap about her torso and haul her out of the water. Her optics are briefly blinded by the sudden light and she can Lugnut shouting, “My love, are you hurt?!”
She can feel him dragging her back to the shore. The pain is beginning to subside, recessing into a dull all-over throb. Her shoulder is the only place that aches more than the rest, likely from taking the brunt force of colliding with the water. She can feel Lugnut lay her down and she feels the water trapped inside her mask tip backward and into her mouth. She hacks and coughs, her coolant system is still not online and her strained respiratory system working overtime.
Lugnut is ahead of the curve as he yanks her mask off and allows her to breathe freely. She can faintly feel him patting her down and him asking where the pain was, was she okay, could she feel her legs, could she feel him, could she hear him—
“Lugnut,” she gasps out.
“My terror, yes, what do you require of me? Do you need help? I can carry you to the medics or I could bring them to you. Do you need an energon transfusion? Are you bleeding?” he asks frantically. He’s carefully lifting her arms and examining her and gently prodding at her midsection.
By now the pain has faded entirely save for her shoulder. Her breaths are strained but that is to be expected without her respirator. Her optics have adjusted and she can see her worried conjunx looming over her. Being able to read his expressions was something she had learned to do very early on in their relationship.
“I’m fine,” she says, but it comes out more like a whisper. The exhaustion of pain is beginning to set in. She groans as he helps her to her pedes, her shoulder screaming out in pain. Lugnut has at least stopped flitting about her and is instead helping her stand up. Strika leans heavily on his arm as they walk back to the battle.
It had been resolved quickly, an easy victory for their side. It’s later on when she’s been discharged from the medical bay and returned to their shared quarters. Lugnut is still being incredibly attentive, offering her energon, her inhalers, and extra pillows for support.
“Beloved, I have already said I am fine,” she sighs from where she’s stretched out on the berth. “Now please come recharge.”
He finally relents and lays down beside her. In the quiet of the night, she can hear the faint thrumming of the ship’s engines and fluid moving through the pipes in the walls. Beyond the window, she could see space and the very edge of the planet they’d been on just megacycles earlier.
“I love you and I am grateful you are fine,” Lugnut says quietly. He’s staring at her and gently squeezing one of her servos.
Strika smiles back at him before pressing a light kiss just above his center optic. “I love you too. And don’t worry. It will take more than a fall to end me.”
He hums in response, his optics dim and his pinchers immobile, drifting off into recharge. Strika just shifts closer and soon joins him.