Chapter 10

"Is Prowl not going to join us?"

Jazz looked at his carrier in surprise, then looked at the empty spot at the table. The morning meal, something they rarely were able to indulge in as a family unit anymore, was more than half over and the Praxian had yet to make an appearance. Guilt assaulted Jazz as several thoughts occurred to him all once. "I never invited him to breakfast. And even if I had, he probably has no idea how to get here."

His sparker and carrier both looked at him. "Is he that bad then?" His carrier asked softly.

"Nah." Jazz answered quickly, the Praxian mechs interaction with the old servant and their following game of Sovereign from the night before still very close to the surface of his processor. Things had still been awkward when Jazz had excused himself, choosing to spend the night in his old rooms, but all of the fear that he had been harboring was gone.

In fact, as Jazz examined the spot where the fear had lived recently, there was actually a hint of excitement. No one was pushing at them now that they were bonded in name, and he was actually looking forward to getting to know Prowl. They had the time now, and the freedom to get to know one another without outside interference.

With that thought in mind Jazz gulped down the rest of his meal and got to his feet. "In fact, I think I'm gonna show him 'round today, let'em see 'is new home."

"Don't leave the compound alone." Lady Moonracer warned, clearly concerned.

"We won't."

Chapter 11

Prowl sat in the quarters that were now his, contemplating the gameboard before him. Jazz had spent the day showing him around the compound that was now Prowls' home as well, and then returned to the quarters that were supposed to be 'theirs'.

They had played another game of Sovereign, one that Prowl had barely won. His energy reserves had dropped to a level where his ability to focus was becoming impaired.

He had learned much about Jazz that day, and the more he learned the more he was ashamed. He was not who they thought he was. They were banking so much on him, and there was nothing he could do for them. This was not his world. He had no idea how to function in this role, as a noble. Heritage alone could not make you into something you were not. And if he admitted this fact it could cause so much damage, for Praxus, and most certainly for Polyhex.

His orders had been explained to him. He had accepted the assignment. And he hated himself for it. For once he should have said no. He should have refused the Lord of Praxus, no matter what the mech had done for him. He should have-. He stood and headed for the berthroom. Recharge, while not a total replacement for refueling, would help the state of his processer.

Walking past a mirror, his own reflection caught his attention, and he stopped. He didn't really recognize himself anymore. The Enforcer decals, the one thing that had given him some sort of identity, were gone, stripped from him the orn he had arrived. The same orn he had been told the truth about who he was and where he had come from. The truth about his carrier and his past, the family that had never known and would still never really know. The same orn he had told that his new life was to be one of deception, to deceive as he had been deceived.

He hated it. And right now he would hate himself, if he could figure out just who he was.