A/N: This chapter references "Triple Takeover" (one of the only two episodes to contain G1 Skids!).

The reboot inhibitor is from Crimson Starlight.

::comm. link::


Chapter 4: Toxic

Prowl stared at the uniform grey of the cabin: bare steel floor, grey walls, steel chairs, metal berth. Where was he? He recognized this place. Oh, yes! Sentinel Prime's quarters – the quarters he'd sometimes shared with Sentinel in Kaon. Wait, why was he back here?

The door swooshed open, admitting Sentinel. "Frag, what a slagging mess that was." He walked past Prowl without even looking at him. "Spare me the political pandering of senators. I'd rather just get in a fight any orn." He plopped into one chair, the one made for his massive frame. "I need you to ease my neck cables. They're coiled stupidly tight."

Prowl clenched and unclenched his fists in nervousness. That's right: there was something he needed to say, something important. "Okay." He walked over, standing behind the chair and digging his fingers into the stiff cables. He always had to use nearly all his strength to give Sentinel a massage. "Do you really think I should learn to speak up more?" He tried to sound logical, reasonable. "That I'm often too silent?"

"Yep." Sentinel stretched his neck to the left, then the right. "If you're not talking about law or tactics, you act like you have no opinion and let others walk all over you. That's why everyone thinks you're emotionless and bland. You really do need to assert yourself more, let them see the real you."

The energon seemed to pound through his lines with his fear. Sentinel wouldn't like what he was going to say, but it did hurt Prowl. Maybe, just maybe, Sentinel could see that Prowl was finally breaking the silence like he'd encouraged him to do. "Well, there's something we need to talk about, then."

Sentinel grew very still. "Okay."

Prowl pulled air through his intakes slowly. "I . . . I feel that when you accuse me of flirting with other mechs that you don't trust me. You know I would never cheat on you. You know I believe in fidelity. And I've never flirted with anyone. I'm not even any good at flirting. Don't you believe in me?"

Sentinel suddenly slumped forward, burying his face in his hands. "Oh, Prowl, I realize you won't cheat. It's just that Redline hurt me so much. We were together before I even became Prime, and I gave him everything. But as soon as I was named Prime and transferred here, he began 'facing Senator Stormrunner behind my back! It just ripped my spark out." He sighed heavily. "Redline promised he'd stop, but then he'd go right back to Stormrunner, and I -"

Not even hearing the familiar story anymore, Prowl stared at Sentinel's back, wondering why it was all about Sentinel's feelings and past wounds. What about Prowl's feelings? "But it makes me feel like you don't trust me," he repeated.

Sentinel paused, then stood and walked around the chair, taking both of Prowl's hands in his and leaning over him. "I just can't shake my fear is all. It's not really about you."

That's probably the most honest thing you've ever said, Prowl thought, suddenly irritated. It's apparently all about you. "But I feel-"

A sad frown pulled down the corners of Sentinel's lips, and his optics dimmed. "Oh, Prowl. You know I couldn't take it if you cheated on me. If you left me, too, I think I'd kill myself."

Prowl stared at him, struck mute by his sudden belief that Sentinel would do just that. "I'm never going to leave you." He wasn't sure what to do. He was genuinely angry at Sentinel for constantly questioning him about where he was, who he was with, and why he seemed happier speaking to his new friend Jazz than when they spoke. But he knew Sentinel had been hurt badly by his previous lover, so shouldn't he give him the chance to heal? Would he ever heal?

"I'm sorry." Sentinel leaned down a pressed a kiss to his lips. "Let me make it up to you." His smile turned into more of a leer, and he reached out to caress one of Prowl's doorwings.

Prowl jerked away. That was how Sentinel liked to make up. Interfacing seemed to be on Sentinel's mind all the time, in fact, but it wasn't the type of assurance Prowl needed. "There is one more thing."

Sentinel's frown had returned. "What?"

"It's about the hardline jacking." Prowl stepped back, nervous again. It really was hard for him to speak up about personal matters. He wasn't used to anyone valuing what he had to say outside of duty. Starting with his creators, everyone he'd ever known had always gotten mad at him, yelled at him, and made him out to be the bad guy. "I gave it a second chance since you asked me to, but it's very uncomfortable for me. At moments, even painful. I need us to stick to softline uplinks."

Throwing up his hands, Sentinel exhaled explosively. "We talked about this after the first time, didn't we? I already apologized for that, okay? I know I hurt you the first time. I'm sorry, all right? But it's something you have to adjust to. The receiver always does. We don't need to give up just because it didn't work the first two times."

Prowl stared at him in utter shock, Sentinel's callousness and audacity angering him. "But it hurts."

"I'll do better next time!" Sentinel shook his head. "I thought we'd already settled this. Besides, you said that after the initial sting, it didn't hurt the second time."

Prowl's temper finally flared. "That's not the point!" His energon seemed to boil in his tank, lashing at and burning his insides. "It doesn't feel good for me. I prefer uplinking with cables or through energy fields. Those are both pleasurable."

"What about what I want?" Sentinel crossed his arms. "Hardline jacking feels best for me. And I've done plenty for you, haven't I?" He flung one arm out wide. "I've kept our relationship a secret since you think it'll cause too much of a stir. I agreed to us keeping separate quarters even though what I really want is for us to live together. Can't you give something back to me, or is this all about you?"

Prowl shook his head, stunned by the sudden direction this was going. "I stay overnight with you a lot." He collected his scattered thoughts and sliced one hand through the air. "No! That's not the point. The public or private nature of our relationship and where or how we live are separate issues. I'm talking about interfacing. I'm telling you that hardline jacking doesn't work for me. It's uncomfortable at best. If you love me, then work with me here. There are many different ways to overload."

"If I love you!" Sentinel bellowed. "I love you so much my slaggin' spark burns. I can't believe you said that!" He stomped up to Prowl and leaned over him. "I think you've already made up your mind here. You've made up your mind about everything. You decided if we'd keep this a secret. You decided if we'd live together or not. And now you've decided how we'll interface, too. And on top of it all, you apparently don't even trust that I love you!"

Prowl felt all his anger drain from him. All his emotions, period. Once again, he had tried to speak up for himself, and once again, he was now the bad guy. "That's not what I meant."

Sentinel stepped forward, looming over him and forcing him to take a step back. "It's not? Well, how else am I supposed to take it? 'If you love me, then work with me here'? If? How am I supposed to 'work with' you on anything if you don't even trust that I love you!"

Nothing. Prowl could feel absolutely nothing except a vague undercurrent of hopelessness. "Please, let me explain"

Sentinel didn't seem to even hear him. "Maybe I'm wrong." He flung up both arms. "Maybe I'm insensitive. Mean. Bad. Selfish. Maybe you're right. But how am I supposed to 'work with' you if you don't trust me? Hardline jacking takes trust! Trust you apparently don't feel." He started stalking forward again, pointing his finger in Prowl's face and forcing him back toward the wall. "Love is based on trust, you know. I can't 'work with' you about our interfacing if you can't trust that I love you."

"Please, let me explain," Prowl repeated calmly. There was no way to deal anything if Sentinel was hysterical.

"Sure, explain." Sentinel crossed his arms again. "Explain away. But I don't see what there is to explain. If, after all these stellar cycles, you still can't trust that I love you, then I'm not sure what else I can possibly do. You've already made up your mind about everything to do with us, and I can't make you trust me."

It had spun so far out of control Prowl wasn't sure how to deal with it anymore. "That's not what I meant."

Sentinel stomped forward another step, pushing Prowl against the wall. "Oh, I think you said exactly what you meant. And that's the crux of the matter, is it not? Even after all this time, after how much I've loved you, how much I've given to you, how much I've agreed to do things your way to make you happy, you don't even believe I love you! I don't know what you want me to do here. You tell me to 'work with' you, but then you give me something like this?"

Prowl crossed his arms over his stomach and looked away. He hadn't meant any of that. This entire 'conversation' had ended up in a place he never intended. "I'm sorry. Never mind. I tried to speak up, but I guess I said all the wrong things."

"Well, you should speak up. That's a good thing." Sentinel straightened his posture so that he wasn't looming over Prowl anymore. "But your accusation was wrong."

"I'm sorry." Prowl felt coolant burning in his optics; his main processor was so overheated it ached. He felt like the coolant might burst lines trying to do its job. "You know how much I . . . how hard it is for me to . . . but I was getting so angry about it all. So I decided to say something – you know, break the silence. But then I said it all wrong."

Sentinel reached up and cupped his cheek. "Oh, Prowl. It's okay." He pulled him into his arms and hugged him. "I get what you were trying to do now, but . . . Well, okay. If you're that uncomfortable with hardline jacking, we'll leave it alone."

Prowl didn't pull away from the hug, but he found himself staring listlessly at the wall. Once again, he'd been punished for speaking up. Yelled at. Forced to invalidate his own pain in order to mitigate another's. It didn't even matter what words Prowl used because Sentinel didn't care how he felt. Sentinel had rushed to defend himself, excuse himself, make it about him and his pain and never actually heard a word Prowl had said.

And he didn't believe, not for an astrosecond, that Sentinel would completely drop the issue of hardline jacking. They might go a few decaorns without discussing it, but as soon as Sentinel really wanted it again, he'd be nagging Prowl for it.

Prowl sighed, almost not even feeling the hand rubbing his back. Many times he'd wanted to break up with Sentinel, but he was the Prime. Prowl was the SIC. What would happen? Where would he go?

I'm a fool, Prowl thought as the last of his emotions slipped away.

-o-

What have I done?

Prowl jerked out of recharge, the thought crashing through his processor. "I'm doing it again!" he gasped aloud, staring at his room in terror. The shadows seemed bunched into the corners. "If something goes wrong . . . Primus!"

He lay back down, the energon in his tanks roiling with his self-hate and fear. The horrible memory-file dump wasn't fading fast enough. I know better. What am I doing? I never want to be manipulated and abused like that ever again!

It had been a living nightmare that never seemed to end. Sentinel had accused Prowl of not trusting him when it was actually Sentinel who didn't trust him. He'd indirectly run off all of Prowl's budding friends except Jazz by starting so many fights with Prowl about his so-called flirting that Prowl had begun to avoid others just to keep from having the arguments. And even after promising him that night that they'd 'leave it alone,' Sentinel had nagged Prowl to resume hardline jacking and accused Prowl of not loving him when he resisted. Then, eventually, Sentinel had just flat-out raped him.

But even prior to that unthinkable night, every single last time Prowl had tried to stand up for himself or defend himself, Sentinel had twisted all his words around until Prowl was the bad guy instead. Sentinel would hurt Prowl, and in the end, Prowl would end up apologizing for his own pain.

I can't do this again, Prowl thought, terrified. I can't put myself through all that oppression and suffocation. I'll end up struggling for my freedom again, fighting to have a voice, and resisting another's dominance. I can't do it. I can't handle more possessiveness, more jealousy, more crushing of my very essence under another's demands..

Resigned and miserable, Prowl decided to tell Optimus how he felt in the morning. Maybe if he stopped it at this stage, the yelling and screaming and accusing and blaming would be mercifully short.

"Primus," he cursed, shuddering. How could have I been so stupid?

oOoOo

Jazz smiled as he headed toward Prowl's office, intent on finding his friend and seeing what his reaction to his new relationship was. Jazz had stopped by Prime's office to give him the information he and Mirage had gathered on the 'Cons – namely that they were only now administering their Cybertronium replacements. When he'd walked in to find Optimus humming to himself, however, he'd immediately wormed out of Prime why he was so chipper.

"Finally," Jazz muttered to himself, glad his friends were past their misunderstanding and hopefully ready to date. If Prowl doesn't freak out first, Jazz thought, frowning.

And sure enough, Prowl, looking dour and determined, turned the corner and nearly ran into Jazz in his dash toward Prime's office.

Slag, Jazz thought, grabbing Prowl's wrist and halting his progress. "Wait, man. Before ya go do what I know yer gonna do, talk to me first."

Prowl frowned at him in obvious confusion. "What am I going to do?"

"Tell Prime datin' is a bad idea and go hide in yer office for the next vorn." Jazz's smile was mirthless. "Come on. Let's go." He began tugging a shocked Prowl down the hall and refused to let go.

Finally, Prowl followed him to Jazz's office, looking askance at the mess it was in. "How do you find anything?" he asked as he took a seat across from Jazz's desk. "It looks worse than the last time I dared to come in here."

Jazz just smirked, brushing piles of datapads, music media, and empty energon cubes out of his way so he could sit on his desk. "No changin' the subject. Spill it. I know you were gonna waltz in there and break up with Prime before anythin' even happened."

Prowl crossed his arms and stared off into the room's corner. "So, Prime told you what happened." He exhaled heavily through his vents. "I just . . . I can't do this, Jazz. I don't think I can stand having my freedom clipped again or struggling against someone for equal voice and equal say."

"It's not gonna be like last time," Jazz said quietly. "Optimus is nothin' like Sentinel. I mean, just look at the way Optimus is with the troops. He listens to us, even lets us weigh in on things. He's not the type to stand around and dictate to ya on a personal level." Exactly what I was afraid of, he thought, hiding a frown. He's spooked before they can even go on one date.

Abruptly shifting in his chair, Prowl brought both knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around his legs. "No, it's more than that." His gaze seemed pinned on the desk's edge. "I don't believe in love. I wish I could say I do, but I don't. All I see are mechs who want to get power over me, dominate me, possess me, and turn me into someone they can abuse. All I see is that evil roiling in corners, lashing the air with its darkness, pressing down upon me and crushing me. Evil that seeps into my lines, contaminates me, claims it is love, and lies. It's toxic. Abuse disguised as pleasure."

Horrified, Jazz slipped off the desk and knelt at Prowl's side, gently pulling on one arm until he could hold his hand. "Not all mechs are like Sentinel, I promise. I'm not. In any relationship I've ever been in, includin' the one with Mirage, I've always been the pursuer. The protector. The lover. I prefer to give pleasure rather than receive it, so I'm usually –but not always – 'on top.' But that's not the same as dominatin' someone. I don't 'own' Mirage. I don't abuse him or see myself as better than or more powerful than he is."

"Maybe you're one of a kind." Prowl wouldn't look at him. "You know, Optimus said something about wanting to protect me and take care of me. Are you sure he doesn't think I'm weak?"

Jazz clasped Prowl's hand between both his own and squeezed it. "Answer me honestly: do ya think that I believe Mirage is weak? Do ya think I believe he can't defend himself?"

Prowl frowned and slowly shifted his gaze to meet Jazz's. "No. You send him on solo missions and let him hold his own in a fight."

"But still I wanna be his protector." Jazz chewed on his lip, trying to figure out a way to explain it. He wanted so much for Prowl to be able to understand an equal relationship and to experience one, too. "Maybe 'protect' is the wrong word. I wanna be his champion. The one who stands up for him, believes in him, supports his dreams, and sticks by him no matter what. Sure, I'll kick afts for him if he ever needs me to. But we're takin' care of each other. He's gonna be standin' by me, supportin' my dreams, and coverin' my back, too."

Prowl pulled his hand away and resumed glaring at the desk. "And the lover part? With Sentinel, I was basically just a victim. He wanted to be the one giving pleasure, too – as in, controlling pleasure." A look of disgust washed over his face, curling up his lip. "He got a power rush from being 'on top.' He really didn't care what I was or wasn't getting from it except for how powerful it made him feel. It was all about him. It wasn't 'facing. It was just power-lust."

The surge of pain was so intense Jazz thought he might cry. Just knowing the agony Prowl had to feel in order to say such words made his spark burn in anguish, and he laid a gentle hand on his friend's arm. "Prowler . . . a lover loves. That's his sole purpose: to give love, to bring pleasure, to inspire joy." Jazz wondered if there was any way to express the sheer amount of selfless love he felt for Mirage to want to do that for him. "Sentinel had no love in him. He was a walkin' disease, a total mockery of anythin' a lover could or should be. It's not supposed to be about power at all."

Prowl snorted.

Jazz didn't give up. "Different mechs have different preferences. Some prefer to give pleasure, some to receive it, and some a bit of both. So what? That doesn't mean one has power and the other doesn't. And it sure don't imply some kinda value judgment, like one version is better than the other. Yer right: what Sentinel did to ya wasn't 'facing. It was just abuse."

Prowl finally met his gaze again and unfolded his legs to sit normally. "To . . . to give love and pleasure?"

"Selflessly," Jazz said with utter conviction. Inside, he ached for his friend. If Prowl was still stuck on that most basic truth, he had a long way to go.

Prowl leaned forward slightly. "And you think Optimus is . . . like you?"

"Hey, if I didn't think so, I would never let him anywhere near ya." Jazz lifted his visor, revealing his optics so Prowl could see the depth of his determination – or rather the sheer threat contained there. "Ain't no one ever gonna hurt ya again. If they even try, even if it's Prime himself, there won't be parts enough left to collect for spares."

A small smile, melancholy but affectionate, bent up the corners of Prowl's mouth. "I believe you."

"Good, then please give Prime -"

The office door chime buzzed, then the door opened without further warning. Optimus stuck his head into the room. "I need you both on the command deck. We have an emergency."

"Yes, sir." Prowl jumped to his feet and immediately rushed from the room.

Jazz followed several steps behind his commanding officers, cursing the interruption and praying to Primus that Prowl would give Optimus a chance.

oOoOo

Prowl frowned at Teletraan 1's main view screen, shifting through the video feed the Sky Spy was sending him. Optimus had left with Ironhide and Trailbreaker to answer a distress call from the Portland police concerning Union Station. Apparently Astrotrain was wreaking havoc there. What bothered Prowl, though, was the eerie absence of Megatron and Starscream. Powerglide had reported seeing them earlier, but they'd vanished in the Portland area.

Despite his best efforts to track down his enemies, though, Prowl's thoughts wandered back to his conversation with Jazz: 'a lover loves. That's his sole purpose: to give love, to bring pleasure, to inspire joy.'

Prowl leaned back in his chair, his optics not really seeing the video feed of Portland. Indistinct images of skyscrapers vaguely registered as grey blobs on his processor. A lover loves, he thought to himself, turning the concept over in his mind. A selfless love . . . love as selflessness. A wish to see to another's happiness and pleasure first. It was all so foreign.

And yet, it made sense. Despite feeling awkward and being unable to speak up in social situations, Prowl had detailed knowledge and understanding of psychology. Such information was necessary for a tactician: he needed to understand as much about the enemy's mindset and likely reactions as he did the battlefield's layout and effective strategies. He knew, therefore, what love was supposed to be and what it was supposed to inspire 'bots to do.

Love made mechs die for each other on the battlefield.

Love made mechs push themselves to their final joule of energy in order to reach and save those they cared for.

Love made mechs bond their very essences together, bond their life-force energy so tightly that it became inseparable and could cause dual deaths should one spark-mate be killed.

"Selfless," Prowl murmured to himself. No matter how he reduced it, love came down to a moment of willing self-sacrifice when under pressure. From that point of view, the lover's main task was indeed to ensure the other's happiness and pleasure.

Exhaling heavily through his air vents, Prowl returned his attention to the Sky Spy, which was now focusing on Union Station. A horde of police cars surrounded it, but Trailbreaker and Ironhide were talking with the humans, likely asking them to stay back so they wouldn't be hurt. Prime was nowhere to be seen, and Prowl wondered if he had found and confronted Astrotrain yet.

But Prowl could no more than think Prime's name before his attention was turned to their potential relationship. He realized he had no good reason not to give Prime a chance and see if this selfless love could really be aimed his way. Prowl didn't really see that happening, but after talking with Jazz, it seemed illogical to preempt finding out. He'd have a lot of questions to ask Prime, though, especially about interfacing.

Pressing his fingers to his temple, Prowl rubbed his helm as though he could reach inside his head and ease the building heat and pain in his processor. Interfacing . . . Prowl actually had no real preference between giving or receiving pleasure and had been initially unbothered by Sentinel's desire to be the giver. In fact, as things had fallen apart, Prowl had found that his turns at giving the pleasure had become a chore, with Sentinel complaining he was doing it wrong or asking him to try things that made him uncomfortable. It had become easier just to let Sentinel be 'in control', except Prowl began to realize that Sentinel was only concerned with Sentinel's pleasure. That is unless he was having one of his phases of "see how awesome I am as a lover: I'm the very best, so worship me in awe."

Prowl hated the smirk that formed on Sentinel lips on those nights. It made him feel like an object of conquest instead of a mech. Like he had no soul or spark at all. And, once again, it was really all about Sentinel.

"Prowl?" Blaster's voice interrupted his thoughts.

Prowl glanced towards the communication terminal. "Yes?"

"Prime reports Blitzwing has, well, gone on a blitz." Blaster cringed. "He's firing on Portland, and there's some kind of odd construction going up near Civic Stadium, which is where he's reportedly attacking from."

Prowl frowned and glanced at the mechs present on the command deck. Figuring out where Megatron and Starscream had gone would have to wait. "Bluestreak, Skids, Tracks, come with me." He stood and turned back to Blaster. "Radio Prime and tell him I'm leading a team to investigate and possibly engage."

"Yes, sir."

Prowl looked over his team, and seeing they were ready, nodded. "Transform and roll out." He initiated his sequence and took off as soon as his tires touched the ground.

Bluestreak followed closely behind him for most of the trip, chatting at him through a private comm. link. ::Are you okay Prowl because you've been really quiet and secluded even for you for several orns now and I've been really worried and then that whole Cybertronium thing happened and we were all in such bad shape and I really want to make sure you're okay.::

Listening with his customary patience, Prowl found it ironic that even though he'd never bonded, he'd still managed to pick up a sparkling. In fact, said 'sparkling' looked up to Optimus as a creator figure, too. Ironic, he thought. ::I'm fine, Bluestreak. The loss and reinfusion of the Cybertronium was hard on all of us, but I think I've recovered nicely.::

::But you weren't okay even before that,:: Bluestreak said. ::You started avoiding everyone after the party we had and you were all tense and I got really worried because you wouldn't even talk to me and I wanted to help but I didn't know what was wrong.::

Despite rumors to the contrary, Bluestreak was no idiot. ::I'm sorry. I didn't realize I was shutting you out.:: Prowl was always genuinely touched by his adopted sparkling's concern, but he couldn't afford to really explain. ::You know how much I hate being over-energized and how poorly it makes me feel. Plus it was a bit awkward for me, considering I didn't mean to get over-energized at all. But I'm fine now.:: He turned his attention to the massive structure that loomed in front of them and opened a public comm. link to his team. ::That is definitely new. It looks almost like a maze.::

::Or a collection of on and off ramps from the Pit,:: Skids said.

::It's terribly ugly,:: Tracks drawled.

Prowl was inclined to agree, but aesthetics were beside the point. ::Enter with caution.:: He drove up the initial ramp and was immediately presented with forks in the road. ::Let's split up and cover more ground. It likely is a maze. If you run into any Decepticons, call for backup and don't engage unless fired upon.::

A chorus of "yes, sirs" met his orders as they each followed different paths. When the endless identical ramps quickly became confusing, Prowl activated his GPS and boosted all his sensors; however, all the feedback was jumbled. Not good, he thought. He activated his comm. as well. ::We have interference. Turn around and trace your route back to the entrance.::

Dead air.

He slowed down, deciding to turn around anyway. He needed to get backup, and hopefully at least one member of his team had come to the same conclusion. Unfortunately, his ramp was merging with another one, and the disruption of all his sensors left him with only an astrosecond's warning that another mech was near. He slammed on his breaks, but it was too late: he crashed into Skids. The world erupted into white pain and grey static then plunged into darkness.

oOoOo

The bright lights of medbay glared off the orange-gold walls and floor, generating a garish pall over the room and its inhabitants. Optimus Prime stood in the doorway, struck mute by the horror before him. Ratchet, Wheeljack, Hoist, Grapple, and Perceptor rushed from berth to berth, attending to Prowl, Skids, Tracks, and Bluestreak. However, Prime's attention was riveted to Prowl to the point all the voices in the room seemed muffled and distant.

"Get the spark monitor attached!"

"The energon loss is nearly critical! Where is that IV?"

"He's stabilized. Attach a reboot inhibitor and get then get over to Tracks!"

For a solid klik, Prime couldn't move, only stare in horror at the sight before him as the medics yelled. He wasn't sure he'd seen anything so gruesome since the early orns of the war. Prowl and his team were so badly disfigured they barely looked like mechs. Prowl's arms and legs were twisted and partially flattened, and energon was splattered over his entire body. Spilt energon had pooled under his body and escaped to run in rivulets down the berth's sides. Even his headlights were cracked and his grille torn. Had Prowl's face and doorwings not been intact, Prime wasn't sure he would have been able to recognize him.

What in the frag happened? Optimus wondered hollowly. Powerglide had mentioned something about a throne, but that didn't explain the flattening or the extent of the injuries.

When Ratchet and Wheeljack left Prowl's side to move to Bluestreak, Prime forced himself out of his daze to walk to Prowl's side. He knew better than to distract his medics and medical aides, so he asked no questions, knowing Prowl was stabilized and they wouldn't leave Prowl's side if he weren't. He took Prowl's crushed hand gently into his own, and for a moment he felt coolant burning his optics.

"Prowl . . ." Prime's vocalizer choked on his love's name, making it sound more like static. He'd nearly been killed, this mech who was his right hand, his friend, his confident, and his beloved. He'd nearly been killed before Prime had made good on his promise to cherish him or even take him on a single date. And worst of all, Prime had promised him he would protect him, but he hadn't. Although he knew his SIC was perfectly competent, he couldn't help feeling the need to ensure his safety, and the failure thrashed his spark and burnt across his body in every place Prowl was hurt.

Reaching out his free hand, Optimus gently touched his fingertips to Prowl's battered cheek, his gaze caught on the dark, offline optics. The dermal plating was cool but soft to his touch, and he compulsively checked the vital stats monitor and energon IV attached to Prowl. Everything seemed fine, but a wave of worry burnt through Prime's circuits. "Live," he whispered, releasing his battle mask and lifting the crushed hand to his lips. "I love you. Please live."

He knelt there by the berth, carefully tracing his fingers over the shattered grille, cracked headlights, and bloodied waist. For one crazy moment, he wished he had all Ratchet's medical knowledge so he could make it right – fix Prowl himself. But he knew very little beyond basic first aid, and he cursed his helplessness even as he pressed a gentle kiss to Prowl's crushed hand.

After a breem, Prime became aware of a faint hum in Prowl's systems, almost as though he were trying to come online. The reboot inhibitor would stop him from regaining full consciousness, but Optimus felt the urge to talk to him anyway. "It's okay, love," he whispered, pressing a gentle kiss into his palm. "I'm so sorry I wasn't there to protect you, but I swear to do my best to take care of you for as long as you live. I will cherish you always, so just hang on for me."

Prowl didn't move, but Optimus sensed a fluctuation in his energy field. Unsure what to make of it, he held Prowl's hand to his cheek. It occurred to him belatedly that he was making a highly public display of his feelings, but when he glanced over medbay, he saw that all the medics were too busy to pay him any attention. Jazz, though, had just entered the room and was headed straight for him.

"Sir, I know you don't want to leave his side," Jazz said, grim, "but Powerglide reports that the situation has begun escalating again and Megatron and Starscream are still nowhere to be found."

Prime stared at him, not responding at first. It was his cue to leave, and he was needed back in Portland. The 'Cons were still on their rampage, and he had a duty to protect the humans and their city. However, for a moment Optimus wanted to say no, to take something for himself, to refuse to abandon the side of the one he loved.

The thoughts were vapor and air.

"I'll be right there," Optimus said, his tone flat even to his own audios.

Jazz nodded, then looked over Prime's shoulder in a way that suggested they were no longer alone. Prime glanced and found Ratchet approaching, looking tired but determined.

"We have them all stabilized now," Ratchet said, reaching out to squeeze Prime's shoulder. "Try not to worry about Prowl, sir. His SHU and memory core are intact and unharmed, and scans reveal that his processor and energon conversion tank are both undamaged as well. We should be able to fully repair him, and we'll begin surgery immediately."

Bowing to what he knew was right, Prime nodded and stood, not bothering to care what Ratchet must think of his behavior toward his SIC. "Keep me updated."

Ratchet nodded. "I will, sir."

Trying to wrestle back a surge of bitterness towards the 'Cons and their violence, Prime forced himself to return to Portland to find Megatron and Starscream and finish dealing with the latest Decepticon mess.

But he worried about Prowl the entire way.

Postscript: You all are so wonderful, I swear. Thank you so much to my reviewers: Sear, Carlough, HURRICANEHannah (nice to see you back!), Carmilla DeWinter, DJA (I appreciate that!), OrianPrime92, Phoenix13, thepheonixqueen, Yami-Yugi3, Dragon Queen88, Kaede Akira, Optimus Bob, and (I'm sorry—I think I forgot to thank you last time!).