A/N: This one is kind of short compared to the others. I know. XD sorry.

REVIEWS

Neon: Pretty soon actually. XD Not this chapter, but most likely the next. I'm not positive if I'm going to insert him. XD It's a high probability, but I'm not 100 percent on that yet.

Answerthecall: Knew you'd hate them. XD

Autobotschic: Was it? I couldn't tell. XD I'll change that in this chapter. XD (I'm a liar)

DixieChicrules123: Updates from me are kinda slow lately. I have to wear a brace now, so I'm back to third grade level of typing. XD

Archer of the Eclipse: I made them that way. XD

kkcliffy: I know what you mean! My family are so polite when insulting each other you'll be halfway home from a family reunion or something and my mom will just be like, "Wait, what did that glitch say about my hair?" XD Southern ladies insults. Too damn polite. "My momma taught me not to be rude, but I'm gonna bad mouth you while I compliment you so it'll take five years for you to realize I bad mouthed you."

The youngling's therapist office was quiet. Prowl and Jazz had been sitting in the waiting room for half a joor. Silverstreak was already inside the office with his speech therapist, Slidewire, supposedly the best of the best; Which coming from Ratchet, is quite a high recommendation.

A small youngling sat on the ground in front of one of her creators. She silently played on a data pad, a firm frown on her face. Another youngling sat next to his creator with a huge smile. Then there was Jazz.

Jazz sat on the ground in front of Prowl, silently playing on a data pad of his own. Prowl had tried not to roll his optics when his bonded had silently slid off his own chair, and sat on the ground like a youngling, but it was getting difficult with all the creators staring at him.

One creator sat with her helm to the side. Though she seemed amused, Prowl could tell she wanted to say something. "Jazz, please get up."

Jazz simply smirked as he shifted his position. He laid on his stomach, still playing with the data pad. His legs swayed back and forth in the air.

Prowl took a deep breath. "Jazz, please, please get up."

Jazz glanced up at Prowl. "Ah'm comfy."

"Jazz."

"Just let meh be comfy! I don' like these places."

Prowl raised an optic ridge. "You're scared of a youngling therapist's office?"

Jazz only frowned.

Prowl smirked. "It makes sense. I'd be scared too, if I had the mental age of a sparkling."

"AH DO NOT!"

"Shh!" The receptionist hushed Jazz.

Jazz glared up at Prowl. "Look at what ya did. Ya got meh in trouble."

"Maybe you should sit on a chair like an adult framed mech."

"Ah don't wanna." Jazz snapped his helm away.

Prowl frowned as the femme from before started giggling. "I'm sorry. Primus, I'm so sorry." She continued giggling for another couple of breems. "I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me." The femme giggled.

Prowl nodded. "It is alright. Please keep laughing."

The femme smiled. "Do you mind if I…" The femme pointed to the chair next to Prowl.

Prowl smiled. "Please."

The femme stood up and walked over to the chair. "You have a youngling here?"

Prowl nodded. "Yes."

"My youngling just started a couple of decaorns back. He hasn't spoken a word since he was onlined. It's worrying. I couldn't afford Slidewire, so I'm with one of the other doctors."

Prowl nodded. "I see."

"What's your youngling's name?" Jazz's helm was propped up by his servos as he continued to wave his pedes back and forth.

The femme smiled. "Nosecone."

Jazz snorted. "Jazz!" Prowl glared.

"Ah can't help it!"

"It's okay." The femme smiled. "I don't like the name. My bonded's Carrier said if we didn't name him that, then he wouldn't help us out. We don't need his help now, but I wish we didn't need it then." The femme rolled her optics. "Oh, I'm Chlora."

Prowl nodded. "Prowl. That is Jazz."

Jazz waved. "Maybe our youngling's could hang out sometime!"

Chlora smiled. "That would be great! I need to find a friend for him anyways. Oh! I can sit for you anytime you need me to!" The femme frowned. "Oh, that made me sound a little creepy."

Prowl smiled. "Thank you. The offer is reciprocated." Prowl pulled out a data pad, and stylus and started writing. "This is my comm frequency." He passed the data pad over.

::Prowl?::

Prowl smiled as he filed the frequency he received under Chlora. ::Hello::

Chlora smiled as she passed the data pad back to Prowl. "My First creator friends! Whoo!"

Jazz snorted. "Ah like ya." Jazz's smile grew as Silverstreak ran up to him, and gave him a hug.

Silverstreak glanced up to Prowl. "He… wants to…see you."

Prowl nodded standing up. "Thank you Silverstreak."

Prowl stepped into the small room, and nodded to Slidewire. Slidewire smiled. "Hello Prowl."

"Hello. How is Silverstreak?"

Slidewire smiled. "He is well. I can have him up and talking again in a couple of metacycles. From what I can tell, that will not be your major problem."

Prowl frowned. "This is about what I asked about, isn't it?"

Slidewire gave him a sad smile and nodded. "It's common for younglings, and adults, who go through what he did to have this, but he does have PTSD. And honestly, he is amazing at hiding it. If I wasn't looking for it, I would never have noticed."

"I do not suppose you could get rid of that in a couple of Metacycles."

"No, I can't." Slidewire sighed. "But, you can help. He probably has other symptoms as well. Probably nightmares, but because he can't use his vocal processor well, he can't scream or call for somebody. I would watch that. Instead asking how he is feeling in the mornings, ask how he recharged. There's not a lot you can do for it besides comforting him, and making sure he knows that what he's scared of isn't so scary, or it just can't happen, not again."

"If he's scared of losing creators again, it is a very big possibility with Jazz and I in the positions we are." Prowl sighed.

"Sometimes, even if it is a lie, a youngling needs to hear it." Slidewire sighed. "I think Silverstreak is a strong mechling though. He'll be okay. It'll just take some time." Slidewire stood up, and passed a data pad to Prowl. "Here. It's a data pad about PTSD in younglings. It will help."

Prowl nodded as he accepted the data pad. "Thank you."

"One more thing. Don't worry about paying. A friend of Ratchet's is a friend of mine."

"I must refuse that offer." Prowl nodded as he turned and left the room.

Prowl sat on his chair as Jazz walked out of Silverstreak's room. "He'll be off in recharge before ya know it." Jazz smiled as he threw himself on the couch. "They we can have some fun." He wiggled his optic ridges at Prowl.

Prowl raised his own optic ridge. "No."

"No?"

"No." Prowl smiled. "I told you earlier if you did not get off the ceiling I-"

"I thought ya were jokin'!"

"I certainly was not."

Jazz huffed as he started pouting. "Then what are we gonna do?"

"Jazz, interfacing is not the only thing there is to do." Prowl rolled his optics. "We can watch a movie, talk, or even play a game." Jazz opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by Prowl. "Not that kind."

Jazz rolled his optics. "Fine. Let's talk. What did the doc have to say about Silverstreak?"

Prowl frowned. He didn't know why, but he was hoping Jazz wouldn't ask. "He said he would have Silverstreak up and talking in no time."

Jazz smiled. "Good."

Prowl frowned at himself. He wasn't going to Jazz about the PTSD. No, he would just worry. That was the last thing Prowl wanted Jazz to do. "Indeed."

"Listen, Prowler. Ah'm sorry 'bout your creators."

"It's fine." Prowl answered.

"Ah guess cause mine are gone ah…. Ah don't know."

"Don't worry about it, Jazz." Prowl smiled. "I forgave you the moment you had that look that you were planning something on your faceplates."

Jazz smiled. "Thanks."

"You're welcome."

"Let's watch a movie!" Jazz cheered.