I wasn't actually planning to continue this, but I got a few reviews saying they wanted to see more of this, so, more chapters will be added. I kind of want to see where this goes too. Unfortunately, due to the menace that is continuity, this fic now overlaps "All On You" during the missing week.
Once more, I own no one from the cannon cast, but Ember is mine, Machete is still our villain, though he's not here, Nitroblast was added because I thought there should be more femmes, and Manx...well, she's not important, but she happened. Beta is cannon, I've no idea from where.
I never quite mentioned how old the younglings are...they're the equivalent of twelve year olds, but Prowl's a lot smarter. Cosmos is, like, eleven
Don't ask why I had the bright idea to make Red Alert a babysitter. No wonder the kid was trying to get away, honestly.
Enough of my ranting, on to the fic! R&R, enjoy!
"Did you hear about the kid Chromia and Ironhide took in?" Firestar breathed to her comrades.
"Primus, of course I did!" Manx shuttered her optics. "That poor mechling!"
"Well, Machete did always have a temper," Beta scoffed.
Blackarachnia rolled her optics. "That's the worst understatement I've ever heard."
Chromia heard the whispers as she passed the other femmes, but didn't acknowledge them. It had been three days since Prowl'd gotten out of the hospital, and they were just now going public about what had happened. Luckily, aside from Ironhide, Chromia, and Machete, no names were mentioned. The poor kid had been through enough.
Ironhide, too, heard casual chatter about himself and Chromia, and the recent addition to their family. But, unlike his femme, he wasn't ignoring it.
"Can we just let the kid alone for Primus' sake?! It's bad enough that his stepsire nearly killed him, he doesn't need to find out others're talkin' about him!" the black mech snapped at Blitzwing, who'd been gossiping to Sunstorm about it.
"Sorry, Captain Ironhide, it's just...I mean, Machete doesn't look like the type of mech that would..."
"Yeah, and Ratchet doesn't look like a mech who'd refrain from snapping at anyone, but he does it! So, quit talking about the kid and get on to patrol, and that's an order!"
Blitzwing and Sunstorm looked stunned, but then hurried away. Ironhide looked around the training field at all who'd frozen to see what was going on, barking orders at them.
"Lieutenant Soundwave! Get back to the firing range with Thundercracker and Skywarp. Ramjet, are those target drones ready?! I'll not tolerate slow work, now all I wanna see are afts and elbows, come on, let's MOVE!"
The training area snapped back to life as the soldiers rushed to complete their assignments.
*****
"I think it's really great what you and Ironhide are doing for Prowl," Elita told Chromia as the two of them sat in the front room of the latter's home. "He seems to be adjusting exquisitely well."
"He and Jazz have been friends for a long time." Chromia took a sip of Energon before continuing. "And he was a pretty quiet mechling to begin with."
"You're still having him talk to Nitroblast, right?"
"Yeah. He needs to talk to someone who understands to some extent what he went through, and that's just not something any of us can sympathize with. Jazz's been warned not to talk about it, and I really don't think he fully understands. If none of us do, I doubt a youngling does."
"I get it. Of course."
A clatter sounded, and the younglings appeared, playing an inpromptu game of tag through the hallways. Prowl skidded around the corner, but Jazz cut in front of him. "Ha! Gotcha! Yer it!"
"Take it outside you two!" Chromia called. "I've told you not to run in the house!"
"Sorry Mom!"
"Sorry."
The blue femme laughed quietly as the mechlings dashed out into the yard. "Honestly, though, he doesn't argue, doesn't talk back, always willing to help out..."
"This is good."
"Yeah. But, I don't think he's out of the exhaust cloud yet."
*****
"B-But it wasn't my fault! Barricade--"
"Shut up!" The back of the big mech's hand cracked across his stepson's face.
Prowl stumbled backward, his head hitting the wall. "But--"
That earned him another slap. "Don't talk back to me, youngling!"
The mechling stopped talking. He could only sit there and tremble in fear as his stepsire approached.
"Now, you listen here, Prowl--"
"Prowl? Prowl?!"
The black and white mechling jolted awake to find his best friend standing over him. Jazz's visor was bright with worry. "You okay, Prowl?"
"What? Oh. Yeah, I'm fine." Prowl sat up and drew his knees up to his chest, hugging them. "Just a bad dream, is all."
"You sure?"
"Yeah."
*****
"So, Prowl, what do you want to talk about?" Nitroblast asked cheerily as she sat down in her usual spot across from him.
Prowl just fidgeted, shrugging his shoulders.
"Read any good stories lately?"
The mechling looked up at her. "I just finished one about a prince and a soldier's daughter who fall in love, but aren't supposed to be together. They sneak out every night to the gardens at the edge of the palace grounds. But, then the caretaker sees them, and tells the prince's mother and sire, who lock him up. Then, one of the palace guards, who knew about the meetings the whole time, lets the prince go and be with the femme. They run away together, and live happily ever after."
Nitroblast blinked, then chuckled, startled by Prowl's sudden willingness to talk, but at the same time happy about it. "I think I've read that story. What's it called?"
"Forbidden Garden?" Prowl replied tentatively.
That really took the red femme off-guard. That was an adolescent reading level novel, not something you'd find on the shelf of a mech Prowl's age. Nevertheless, she smiled widely. "Yeah, I've read that one. That's pretty impressive. Where'd you find a copy of that?"
Prowl scratched the back of his neck as though embarassed. "Chromia left it on the table in the front room, and I asked if I could read it."
"Okay. That's cool. So, do you have any other hobbies? What else do you like to do?"
"I'm pretty boring." The mechling looked around the small office.
"You're 'boring'? Does anyone tell you that?"
"No. Jazz says it's weird for a youngling to read so much. I don't think so."
"Well, good. You shouldn't care what anyone else thinks about you."
Prowl just forced a smile.
*****
"So, boys, anything exciting happen today?" Chromia asked at dinner.
Ironhide coughed. "Apparently, Shockwave's got a mate we don't know about. I'm not one for gossip, but..."
"Oh, really? Mech or femme, do you know?"
"Pretty sure it's a mech."
"Mhmn. I'll have to ask Elita about it. Jazz, how was practice?"
"Uh...well, Moonracer and Powerglide tripped over each other and caused a pileup center field."
"Were they okay?" Ironhide asked.
"Yeah, they were fine."
"Prowl, what about you, anything you want to share?" Chromia trilled cheerily.
The black and white mechling just picked at his dinner, shaking his head.
"You sure?"
A nod, golden optics meeting aqua.
"'Kay."
I guess I really AM boring, Prowl sighed mentally. He and Jazz finished eating at the same time, and both went to put their plates in the sink before Jazz sat down on the couch with Ironhide to watch the news after the older mech finished his dinner, and Prowl slipped off to his and Jazz's room to read.
*****
One Week Later
"Yer it, Blaster!"
"Not fer long! Hah! Now yer it, Prowl!"
"For the eighth time, I'm not playing. See this?" Prowl held up the data pad. "It's called a 'data pad'. And I'm doing a little thing called 'reading'."
"Whatever. Theeeeeeeeen, yer it, Em!"
The dark youngling sighed. "For the fifth time, I am not playing either." She'd been here two days, and Blaster and Jazz already annoyed her.
"Geez, you two're no fun!" Blaster complained.
"Says you," Ember retorted.
"C'mon, guys, let's be nice here." Jazz stepped between the two of them. He looked as though he wanted to continue, but he merely stared upward, trembling.
"Jazz, what--"
"Ember?"
The dark femmeling squeaked in surprise and whirled to face her sire. "My apologies, Sir, I did not see you there."
"Of course not. Em, Nitroblast wants to talk to you."
"Whom?"
"She's a psychologist," Prowl whispered. "She's nice, don't worry. She's not going to think you're crazy. I see her every other solar cycle, in fact I'm supposed to be there soon."
Ember nodded. "Right." She turned to address her sire. "Of course. When, exactly?"
"ASAP. Come on." Megatron turned to go.
"Uhm...sir?" Ember looked up at her sire, then proceeded to speak in Kaibanese, which the mechlings didn't understand. "You know that Prowl goes to see her regularly, right? And that he has a meeting with her today?"
"Yes, your point?"
"Well, could he come with us and wait with you until Nitroblast is done with me? I hate leaving him with these two..." She nodded toward Jazz and Blaster.
"Fine," the Protector acquiesed. "Come on."
Ember nodded to him, then turned to Prowl. "You heard him, come on."
*****
"So, you hang out with Ember a lot?" Nitroblast asked.
"Yeah."
"She really seems to like you. Does she know about...?"
"No. And I really hope it stays that way. I hate others feeling sorry for me."
"Don't you want anyone to care about you?"
"I never asked them to."
"Well, do you think they want to care?"
"They shouldn't feel obligated, I'm not their problem."
Nitroblast nodded. "I see."
After the mechling left, the red femme bit her lower lip component. She wasn't supposed to talk about anyone who saw her, but Prowl's negative mentality was starting to concern her.
"Well, that's why Primus allowed hypothetical cases," she said to herself as she clicked open the comm. relay on the corner of her desk.
*****
The black device on the scientist's desk chirped, and the mech answered it. "Wheeljack."
"'Jack? Nitro. Can you come down here, I need to ask you about something."
"What's malfunctioning?"
"Uh...my laptop. It's on the fritz."
"I'll be right down."
"Excellent."
*****
Wheeljack entered his sister's office. "Okay, where's the spazzy laptop?"
Closing said laptop, Nitroblast sighed. "I lied, in case there was anyone in the room with you. Was there?"
"No."
"Oh, well, my mistake. Never hurts to be sure."
"What do you want?"
Nitroblast fidgeted. "What if...hypothetically...I thought one of my patients was at risk for suicide?"
"That's pretty serious, why?"
"Well, typically, someone at risk for suicide would be withdrawn, moody, depressed, quiet..."
"Well, what would I be able to help you with?"
"Ratchet can diagnose a mental problem just as well as I can. If I have enough reason to believe this patient is in fact suicidal, I'll be calling your mate."
"Whatver'll help the poor 'bot."
"Good." Nitroblast grinned. "Since you're so willing to help, when's Ratchet off duty next? Like, on break?"
"...In about ten kliks, why?"
"Can you tell him that I need to see him? I'd do it myself, but..."
Wheeljack nodded. "Sure. No problem."
*****
He knew that it meant a severe thrashing if he was caught, but he had to do it. Machete hadn't let him have anything to eat in so long...he'd been forced to say he wasn't hungry as he stalked to his room each night.
Prowl sneaked a bite of whatever the family had had for dinner, and was heading back to his room when he was grabbed by the scuff of his neck.
"Just what do you think you're doing?"
The mechling gulped. "Going to my room."
"Why were you up here?!"
"I heard a noise, and..."
A cuff to the side of the head. "Like the Pit you did!"
"I swear!"
"Don't you lie to me!"
The youngling whimpered, covering his face to protect himself from another blow. But, Machete merely dragged his stepson into the kitchen and forced him over to the sink, making him purge his tanks of what little he'd eaten.
"I thought so. Get your little aft down to your room. Your mother will be hearing about this!"
Sniffling, wiping a spot of vomit from his mouth, the mechling fled as fast as possible, falling down the stairs.
Golden optics snapped open as Prowl sat bolt upright, intakes cycling heavily. He looked around, expecting to see the damp, cold basement that was once his room, with Machete standing at the top of the stairs, but he instead saw the silhouette of his best friend asleep across the room. He shuttered his optics a few times before getting up. He scaled a shelf and slipped out the window onto the moonlit patio.
He sat on the garden wall, knees drawn up to his chest, face resting against them. He was almost an adolescent, and he was crying like a protoform! What was wrong with him?!
"Funny place to be at midnight," a curious female voice said from behind him.
Prowl looked over his shoulder to see glittering violet optics in the darkness, the soft blue glow of a plasma blade visible behind the femmeling's head. "Hey, Ember."
"Is something wrong, Prowl?"
"No. Why?"
"Well, usually I am the only one outside at this time, ditching my 'bodyguard', as my sire puts it, and you looked...I think the best word it 'upset', even though that does not even begin to describe your expression." The dark femmeling sat down beside her friend. "You can tell me."
"Nothing's wrong. Just a little...family issue...is all."
"You and Jazz seem to get along like brothers should, what is the matter?"
Of course. She didn't know. But could he tell her the truth? "Uh, well, it's..."
"Ember? Ember?!"
"Ember, where are you?"
"I'm so sorry, sir, I could've sworn she was in her room!"
"Red Alert?"
"I can't believe I lost her, I only looked away for a second..."
"Red Alert."
"I knew I shouldn't've left my post, only trouble could've followed."
"Red Alert."
"What if she's been kidnapped?! Gah! It's all my fault!"
"Red Alert!"
"Yes, Megatron?"
"Shut up."
"Shutting up, sir."
The femmeling's optics shuttered. "I must get back to my room before they catch me out here alone. I hope you feel better, Prowl."
A vain hope, Ember, the mechling thought solemnly as the dark female disappeared. Such vain hope.
His stepsire and stepbrother had been right. He was absolutely useless. A pointless waste of space. He would never amount to anything, ever. He didn't have any reason to continue to function.
Nothing mattered to him. Not that novel he'd been so passionately reading, not his friends or his studies. Nothing held any further value to him. He felt hollow, numb, empty...
Worthless.
