let's make this official

Prowl becomes aware that something has changed when the transport turns around mid-air. He pulls out his data pad and quickly hacks into the Autobot personnel files. His new orders are there, plain as day, along with a notification to contact Optimus Prime as soon as he is able. Prowl can't help but smirk.

Looks like fate is on his side after all.

Gunner meets him at the entrance to the base when he returns. He looks vastly amused above all else. "Looks like we've got you for two whole months." he says.

Prowl nods. "So I suspected. It's a good thing you caught me in Syph – if my transport had made it to Iacon, Prime might have decided to keep me."

"Nah. There's a mech I think would hunt you down if that happened." Gunner says easily. He motions for Prowl to follow him and guides him into the base. "As you know, right now our spec ops team is rather limited. I've got 10 new trainees coming in from the Academy, but for now, you'll be working with just Jazz and Mirage."

Prowl nods. "What were their injuries?"

"All things considered, minimal. They were released from the med bay three days after we got them back."

Prowl relaxes a little at that, although his face doesn't show his relief. He has no doubt Gunner can see it either way. "That is good." he murmurs.

"That is very good." Gunner agrees. He stops in the rec room, which is completely empty at this time of night. He turns to face Prowl, expression completely serious for once. "Look. I've done my research on you. Your talents are excellent, beyond reproach. Your personal reputation, on the other hand, is kind of frightening. Most mechs peg you as being too in control when they're feeling generous, and sparkless when they're not."

Prowl clenches his fist. "I'm very well aware of the rumors." he says. "I will not apologize for doing my job and doing it well."

"To the exclusion of personal relationships?"

"It is difficult for me to relate to others, even without my ambition, but I am not friendless." Prowl replies dryly. "Neither am I emotionless. If the others cannot see it, I do not feel the need to enlighten them. All that matters is keeping the mechs that I have been entrusted with alive."

Gunner considers those words for a moment before nodding. "I can work with that. Follow me – it's late, so introductions can wait until tomorrow. I'll show you to your quarters."

"Ah got 'im, mech."

Both mechs turn to see a visored black and white mech – from Polyhex, if the accent is anything to go by – standing in the doorway of the rec room. Gunner nods. "I leave him to you, then." With that he turns and walks away.

The new mech waits until they're alone before approaching Prowl. Prowl just stands there, mildly curious, until the mech is an arm's length away. "Designation Jazz. Ya saved mah life." He sticks out his hand. "Thank ya."

Slowly, Prowl reaches out and shakes his hand. "Designation Prowl. And it was my pleasure." He tilts his helm to the side, studying Jazz intently. "I'm guessing you're the one who put up enough of a fuss to get Prime to transfer me?"

Jazz grins. "What can Ah say? Ah like havin' the best on mah team."

Prowl raises an optic ridge. "I'm still technically in training." he points out. "I know you've read my file."

"Ah did." Jazz says unrepentantly. "An' if that's what ya can do while yer in trainin', Ah'm lookin' forward ta findin' out what ya can do when ya finish." He pauses for a moment, tilting his helm as he examines Prowl. It's like being put under a microscope, but Prowl refuses to flinch. Jazz grins. "Ah also know yer pretty young ta have gotten this far."

"I am not a sparkling, Jazz." Prowl says, an edge to his voice that he can't quite hide and doesn't try too hard to. His age has always been a point of contention between him and his comrades.

Jazz holds up a hand, stalling him. "Ah know. Even if ya were age-wise – which ya ain' – ya definitely not in yer spark. No sparklin' could have pulled off what ya did." He grins. "Welcome ta mah team, Prowler. Let's get ya settled in."

Prowler. No one has ever given him a nickname before. Prowl simply follows Jazz to the barracks. They don't speak much. Jazz points out various places of interest as they go (along with what areas to avoid) and Prowl nods and commits them to memory. They stop in front of a particular door and Jazz keys it open.

"Raj! We got our mech!"

That startles Prowl. "You share quarters with your teammates?" he asks.

"Always." Mirage says, approaching the door. "Usually tactical doesn't stay with us – I imagine Gunner would have taken you to the regular quarters – but Jazz wanted you here with us for a while." He reaches out and shakes Prowl's hand. "I'm Mirage – the other mech you saved." He doesn't say thank you or anything, and for that Prowl is grateful. Jazz lets the door close behind him.

"Ya c'n take th' bunk in the back." he says, pointing it out. Prowl nods and proceeds to make himself at home. He's not surprised to be moved to the back. The TO is one of the most important positions on an ops team (the first being the leader), and this bunk is the most easily defended.

He doesn't recharge well that night, but that will change. This is a step in the right direction. Prowl knows it.

/-/

The next morning, Prowl reports in to Optimus Prime. The connection is secure, and Magnus has cleared the communications room so he won't be interrupted. More importantly, there are things that need to be said that would reveal a truth Prowl does not want anyone else finding out.

Prime has his battle mask removed for the moment. "I'm glad your transport made it back in one piece."

Prowl nods. "You did not have me contact you just so you could wish me well, Optimus." he says quietly. Prime flinches a little, but he nods reluctantly.

"What were you thinking poking your nose into ops matters?"

"Would you rather I have left those mechs to die?"

"You know exactly how I feel about special ops."

Prowl snorts. "You deem them a necessary evil. Something you can't deny we need, but it flies in the face of your weird morality. For some reason, you think having special ops makes us more Decepticon-like." Prime nods. Prowl shakes his helm. "You know it doesn't."

"Underhanded tactics are Megatron's specialty."

"Yes, but Megatron has all the subtlety of a thrown brick." the younger mech retorts. "Our mechs can actually get the job done with a minimal amount of collateral damage."

For a long moment, the two just stare at each other. Finally, Optimus sighs. "You know, creations are not supposed to be wiser than their creators." There's a lifetime of warmth in those words, and Prowl's doorwings relax a hair. "I have never understood your need for ops."

"It's nothing I can explain." Prowl admits. "But I know this is where I need to be."

Optimus nods. "I gave Gunner two months."

"I doubt Jazz will let me go after that." Prowl retorts, a wry smile twisting his lips. "Jazz is the driving force behind Gunner's top team. He wants nothing but the best to protect his mechs."

"You sound like you already respect him."

"I do."

"All right, Prowl. It seems there's nothing I can do about it. Two months – if Gunner and Jazz still want you on the team, you'll stay there. But I'm still going to worry – that's my job."

"Worry about the army." Prowl says with a smile. "I can take care of myself." With that said, they sign off.

Jazz waits for him just outside the comms room. Prowl pauses. "How much did you hear?" he asks hesitantly. Jazz flashes him a grin.

"Enough. Don' worry about me. Ah got my own secret with Magnus."

Understanding flashes across Prowl's face, and he smiles. "Thank you."

"C'mon. We got trainin' ta do."