After the battle, we searched the area, looking for wounded soldiers. We found a few of ours who'd been killed, but from the looks of their pre-mortem wounds, we silently hoped that death had come quickly, leaving minimal time to feel any pain.

My search party consisted of Ironhide, Red Alert, Jazz, Blaster, and Wheeljack. Ratchet, Inferno, and Powerglide had gotten the severely wounded in the crude field shelters back to Iacon. Ember's Intelligence forces were helping us scout out the wounded, except Ember herself, who was controlling communications while Blaster was in the field. Cosmos hovered overhead, scanning for life signatures.

"Medic!" came the cry from Elita. "He needs help over here!" Our heads snapped toward her voice.

We froze for a moment, then we all ran, jogged, flew, and/or limped over to where her location, where we

Prowl had been mangled beyond recognition by the shot he'd taken, and any other subsequent carnage that had been wrought upon him as he crawled away. I only knew it was him because of the rapidly dimming gold of his left optic.

*
"What's the verdict, Doc?" Cliffjumper asked as Ratchet finished soldering his leg.

"You're free to go. Just walk around for a bit and then rest that leg, okay?"

"Yep."

Ratchet nodded to him and then walked over to me. "But, you're gonna be here awhile, Optimus."

"I'm not that bad, am I?"

"There's nothing all that wrong, except this damn kneecap of yours." The medic took up a welding arc and set to work on my knee. Business as usual.

"Really fries your circuits, doesn't it?" I asked with a laugh.

My answer was a low snarl from my oldest friend.

"Okay, now I want you to rest, you got that?" the medic barked once he'd finished with my knee.

"I'm fine, Ratchet, I don't want to sit here taking up a berth you might need. I'll just--"

"Optimus..."

"...stay here like you want me to," I finished. The medic gave a self-satisfied smirk and then moved to the curtained-off berth to my left. I turned away, knowing full well who was over there. The medbay doors burst open and several mechs and a femme entered. The mechs were obviously trying to discourage her from advancing.

"Ma'am really--"

"There's nothing wrong."

"Honest. We just got the update from Bumblebee. Everyone's conscious and fine."

An orange mech stopped dead in front of the femme. "Ma'am, I don't think--"

Cadet Booster, if I desire to know what is on your mind, I shall splatter it on the wall and see for myself, the female sneered. Now, if you would kindly allow me to pass, I shall not have to resort to anything rash or violent.

The cadet called Booster shrank back slightly, but stood his ground. "Ma'am..." he began again.

The female drew a shuriken from its holster. Do not test me, cadet. I do not wish to harm you. It will not my reputation any good.

Booster snarled. "Ma'am, I must insist--"

It happened in a clang of metal. The cadet fell to his knees, clutching his shoulder and yelling in pain. The femme straightened. I am your superior officer, you do not tell me what to do. None of you are exempt from what I just said. Is that clear?

The mechs turned to each other, before running like the Pit, supporting their injured comrade as the went. The femme replaced her shuriken and appeared to notice me for the first time.

I am sorry you had to see that, Sir. You know how I feel about insubordination, Ember signed, turning her face to me.

I smiled at my niece. "As long as you didn't melt anything important and he won't go offline on us, I don't have a problem."

I know my way around a mech's vital circuitry...Primus, that sounded wrong.

I laughed along with her. "I wasn't intending to take it that way."

A smirk from the young femme. I thought a laugh might cheer you up. You know, make you feel a bit better. She looked to my damaged knee.

"Thank you, Emmi," I replied, using my nickname for her.

Her innocent face turned serious. I must know who else was injured in the attack. I met Cliffjumper in the corridor outside, and Bumblebee, Jazz, and Elita were all right, as far as I could see.

I knew I couldn't keep it from her. She would find out one way or another. "Ratchet and Wheeljack both think he's lucky to be online after the hit he took. I'm amazed that Ratchet fixed him up as well as he did at the scene."

Who?

I sighed, shuttering my optics. "Prowl."

She froze, her optics locked on the curtained berth. There was something in those optics that I'd never seen before.

My niece's optics were so captivating, unlike any others on the planet. Megatron's narrow, deep crimson optics always had a burning fury behind them. Ember's were wide, which gave her a permanently surprised look, and they were a bright violet color with thin rims of red. They were cold and calculating, and they always seemed to gaze into the Spark of whatever Cybertronian she happened to be looking at. But this look, it was one of excruciating agony, and also of fury.

Where is Ratchet? Her movements were jerky.

"I'll get him. Ratchet?" I called.

The medic appeared. "What is it, Optimus? Does your leg hurt again?"

I shook my head. "No, I'm fine. I'm not so sure Ember is, though."

Ratchet looked to the femme, noticing her look of pain. "Ember? Are you okay?"

Just then, a tortured groan sounded from behind the curtain. We all looked toward the sound with worry, and Ratchet rushed over to our wounded friend.

I have told you all time and time again...this is why the office staff are not to be sent into battle! This is, what, his fourth near-death experience?! Ember's fists clenched as though she was going to punch something. Ratchet returned before she could.

*
The medic looked stunned. "Ember...what are you still doing here?...Never mind, I don't wanna know," the medic replied.

A weak rasp of a voice sounded from behind the curtain, a hint of agony coloring the words. My head snapped toward the sound, and I moved to get closer. Ratchet held me back.

"I'm sorry, Ma'am, but he's bad off. You really don't need to see--"

Yes, I do, Ratchet. Now, kindly let go of me.

Prowl spoke again, his voice still inaudible.

The medic rushed behind the curtain. I scooted closer. Do you think he is all right?

My uncle shuttered his optics. "I don't know, Ember."

*
I heard Optimus talking to Ember on the other side of the curtain, but my priority was Prowl, who, by the look of things, was still in excruciating pain.

His faceplates were drawn together as he fought back any urge to cry out. An incredible feat, to be sure, I'd never seen anyone resist so well. He'd only broken once, and had managed to keep any trace of pain out of his voice when he'd spoken.

Or, tried to.

I sighed as he whimpered quietly, knowing that he'd be better off if I dosed him.

"Prowl? I'm going to have to put you under general anesthetic. It'll knock you out while I work on a few repairs that'll speed up your recovery, okay? You're gonna be fine."

He sort of nodded as I injected the solution into the Energon tube in his arm.

For some reason, I immediately flashed back to a time when there were no Decepticons, only Autobots. Back to when my own daughter was young, growing up with Blaster, Jazz, Cosmos, Ember, and Prowl.

Jazz, the athlete, was always getting hurt. He tolerated pain, wasn't exactly a stranger to it, but neither was he exclusively familiar with it. Blaster, too, was used to getting scrapes and dents, nothing major.

Cosmos, meanwhile, didn't get hurt as often, so he usually ended up checking in with Hoist, who Blaster usually saw as well. I only got Jazz because his injuries were often sports-related and his parents were important officers. Ember, too, would've been fine seeing Hoist if she ever got hurt, but she was top priority with her status, as well as her epilepsy, so I got her. Flareup, being my daughter, generally took care of herself, and saw either me or Hoist when she couldn't.

But, Prowl was different. He was born with a behavorial glitch that we fixed, and there were no other conditions. He was intimately familiar with pain, more than any mech or femme should ever be. His younglinghood with his stepsire had been horrible. I'd always taken pity on him. I realized that his ordeal had not numbed him to pain, but had actually increased his sense of it. He'd been throught the Pit and back more than once.

And this was just another routine trip.