Okay, cheat-sheet so no one gets confused, our mechs are using alias' in this chapter. Hound is Hunter, Jazz is Switchback, Wrecker is Trailbreaker, and Sunstreaker is Rage.

Part 11

"You need to contact Wrecker," Sunstreaker hissed as they stalked down a deserted street. It had been nearly twenty cycles since Jazz's unit had arrived in Antihex, and the twin's bond had proved invaluable in that time as it meant they could divide their time, but still keep tabs on each other easily. "It's important."

With a brief nod Jazz activated the correct comms frequency, in an instant received an encrypted data-stream, dropped into his alt-mode and headed towards the centre of the city immediately.

"What is it?" Sunstreaker asked as he followed Jazz's lead.

"We have fresh orders," Jazz answered quietly. "The Prime's shuttle was ambushed not far from here. Sentinel escaped, but one of his bodyguards and a youngling were taken by Seekers."

"The bodyguard might be of use to Megatron," the warrior snarled. "But the youngling?"

"Is a ward of the Prime, Megatron will use him too if we don't get them out of here."

"What's the plan?"

"We find them, Swipe leads the others to us, they take them back to Wreckers shuttle, simple."

"It always sounds simple," Sunstreaker said dryly. "It's a good thing I like a challenge."

Jazz barked a laugh and led them on, he accessed the hub as they drove and soon located the two unfortunate mechs. "The Seekers are taking them to a transporter," he informed his friend, "We have to intercept them fast, or we'll have to take the shuttle, and that won't be easy. Where's Sideswipe?"

"Two mega-miles out and closing fast," Sunstreaker replied, "this might actually work."

"Have a little faith Rage, and give me a signal when Swipe gets close." Jazz transformed back into his robotic-mode, and forced himself to relax.

Sunstreaker nodded, set his faceplates into a harsh sneer as they rounded the last corner and stepped out in front of three Seekers and two similarly built Autobots; one black and white, the other two-tone grey, and both with red chevrons above their optics.

"Stand aside!" one of the Decepticons ordered.

"Easy now Screamer," Jazz said smoothly, "We just wanted to see your prize. Well, Rage did. You know that seeing captured Autobots amuses him almost as much as dead ones."

With a cruel chuckle Sunstreaker stepped forward, and with a wicked glint in his optics he made a show of looking the two Autobots over.

The older of the two captives glared at the warrior. Jazz smirked, he was actually impressed, not many mechs squared up to Sunstreaker, even the few that he liked thought twice about it, but this Autobot did not seem afraid.

"Looks like you're losing your touch Rage," another Seeker sneered, "or maybe you're just going about things the wrong way. Megatron said that he wanted the prisoners alive, but he didn't say anything about them being intact."

"Don't you hurt him," the younger mech said in a rush. "He's done nothing to you, we've done nothing to you…"

"Silence!" the third Seeker thundered. "Speak again and your friend will wish that he had never been sparked, clear?"

The young mech clamped his lip-components shut, and gave his friend an apologetic look.

"I think that's enough," Jazz said lazily. "These mechs have a shuttle to catch after all."

"I am in charge of the prisoners," Starscream protested predictably. "I will say when we proceed, and I see no need to hurry. There is always time for a little pleasure," he added with a lecherous look to the older of the two mechs.

"If you think so," Jazz grinned, annoying Starscream was always fun. "But I like the look of that one myself."

"I am the officer here, I will have first choice," the red Seeker snapped, before he turned on his heel and found himself optic to optic with Sunstreaker.

"You know the drill Starscream," the warrior snarled. "Switch helps me get what I want, and I help him get what he wants."

"There are three of us, and two of you Rage," the second Seeker, who just happened to be the Decepticon who Sunstreaker had punched a few breems after arriving in Antihex, said in a warning tone.

Sunstreaker flashed the Seeker a brief, unsettling smile. "I thought you learned your lesson already," he hissed.

Jazz let the rest of the threats and back-chat wash over him, he already knew how it would end, but while he was waiting for the action he had a moment to take a good look at the two prisoners.

They could easily have shared a maker, or have been creator and youngling if the elder of the two had bonded early, but Trailbreaker's comm had mentioned 'a ward of the Prime,' and that only happened when there was no one to care for a sparkling.

So, youngling and mentor, Jazz surmised, must be bordering on hero-worship for him to copy the other one like that, but then it's a good model, sleek lines, good structure, smart too if the way he's watching for any indication of weakness is anything to go by.

Jazz gave the black and white mech a winning smile just as Sunstreaker threw the first punch. The four Seekers pounced as one and Jazz placed himself between the brawl and the Autobots in one quick, graceful movement, "Ya don't want to get in Rage's way, my mech," he said smoothly as the older protested about being shoved backwards.

"Guarantee my friend's safety, and I'll fight with you," the black and white said in a whisper that was pitched only for Jazz's audios.

"Rage can take care of himself," Jazz answered lazily. Somehow he managed to sound casual despite the shiver that ran through his circuits at the sensation of the calm, determined voice so close to his audio. "Everything's covered."

True to Jazz's words the Seekers beat a hasty retreat less than a breem later, Jazz smiled, Sunstreaker brushed a non-existent smudge off his armour and the two Autobots exchanged glances.

"Whose side are you on?" the younger one asked.

"Not theirs," Sunstreaker answered almost civilly. "Move out."

"I'm on his," Jazz added. "And things tend to go better when mechs do as he says." He had to admit that he was enjoying himself, and he was fairly sure that it was more than just being in the company of Autobots again. There was something about the black and white mech, maybe it was his refusal to back down, or his protective nature, Jazz wasn't sure. Maybe it's just been too long, he mused as they followed Sunstreaker.

"We'll take them from here Switchback," Wheeljack announced sternly as he stepped into their path. Over the cycles they had fallen into their roles as bickering rivals vying for the attentions of Rage and Swipe, they'd had a lot of fun with it, and it amused and distracted the Seekers, but in that moment Jazz wondered if his friend had overdone it.

For a moment the two chevroned mechs looked alarmed and confused. The black and white planted himself firmly in front of the grey, but relaxed slightly as his guards and the three new arrivals moved together in a relatively friendly manner. It seemed to him that they all knew each other, and that the rough tone was more playful than threatening. His worries faded further when another of the three new mechs made a discrete hand-signal that indicated that he was an Autobot ally.

"Looks like this is where we part ways," Jazz stated, bringing the black and white's attention back to him.

"A moment, please," the chevroned mech asked. The mech that had given him the signal nodded and he pulled the smaller of his original escort aside. "I don't know what's going on here," he admitted, "But I know what Starscream and his mechs threatened us with, you saved us from that and asked nothing in return, that doesn't make you much of a Decepticon."

Jazz smirked. "I wouldn't say there was nothing I wanted," he said smoothly, and he gave the black and white an appreciative look. The mech tugged at his arm again, pulling him in to a brief, but wondrous kiss.

Jazz would have rather walked into the Pit than pulled away, the mech pressed against him was handsome, brave, passionate and something else that he couldn't define, but admired, but he knew that they couldn't waste time. The two former prisoners were still wanted mechs, targets while they were in the city, so, making it clear that his movements were reluctant, he stepped back and walked away.

He didn't go far; just around the corner of the nearest building he stopped and waited for Sunstreaker to join him. Primus, but that was good, he thought as he tried to steady his intakes. Get it together Jazz, think with your processor and focus. It'd never work out anyway.

"What's next?" Sunstreaker asked with a glint in his optics that told Jazz exactly how amusing he thought the whole situation was.

"We follow them to the shuttle just in case, and then we're done."

"Sure it's not just so you can get another look at the black and whites aft?" Sunstreaker teased.

Jazz shot him a smile that might have passed for innocent on most mechs, and moved off. Looking won't hurt, he told himself, and he'll be gone soon enough, then it's back to work.

Wheeljack had set a fast pace, with Sideswipe and Hound a short distance ahead to steer them clear of trouble, but the streets were almost deserted, and it only took a few breems to get to Trailbreaker's shuttle.

Once the two Autobots were aboard and airborne Jazz moved to Wheeljacks side. "No one followed," he reported. "They got out free and clear."

Wheeljack nodded without looking down from the departing shuttle. "Let's hope we get the same luck when our turn comes."

"Won't be long now 'Jack," Jazz assured him.

"Good, this place isn't doing any of us any favours,"

"Oh, I don't know, I think Sunnys' patience is improving. All these 'Cons make him seem quite the gentlemech."

"It's all relative Jazz," the scientist chuckled. "Anything you want to add to my report before you ghost off?"

"Actually, yeah," Jazz replied and there was an awkwardness in his tone that Wheeljack had never heard before. "You can pass on a message to Command for me, I don't ever want to know the names of those two mechs."

Wheeljacks optic ridges furrowed in confusion. He had seen the kiss that Jazz and the other mech had shared and it had looked perfect, passionate and wild, the kind of kiss that a mech experienced once in a lifetime, if he was lucky. He wasn't jealous, he had no claim on Jazz after all, it had been over a vorn since their one night together, but he couldn't understand Jazz's reaction. "Why?" he asked.

No answer came. Jazz was already gone.

Wheeljack stayed a moment longer, watching the pale trails that the shuttle had left behind, and wishing that he could follow them until the answer to his question came to him. You remind him of the life he had, he thought to the mech that would soon be safe again and had no chance of hearing him, the freedom and fun that he gave up to become our commander, and for that reason he has to keep you away. It'd probably be for the best if you did meet again, but it's my job to protect him. Forgive him, and maybe one cycle he'll forgive himself.

Bonus scene; I deliberately left out the names of the two prisoners, but I think everyone guessed who they were, if you don't want to know don't read any further.

Deep within the Autobot Headquarters in Iacon, and safely alone in his office, Prowl was pacing, it was something he'd done a lot of in the three cycles since his return home. His usual trick of burying himself with work hadn't done any good, all his processor seemed capable of was rerunning the events that had given him his freedom back.

Six mechs had helped his and Bluestreak's escape from Antihex; the one who had identified himself as Wrecker had been the only one willing to confirm that he was an Autobot, but only once they were aboard his shuttle and no one else could hear him. One of the three mechs that had taken them to the shuttle had given him an Autobot signal, but refused to verify his allegiance, and out of that group only one of them had given them a name. Prowl had run several searches for Hunter, and the pilot, but none of them had found anything.

The same could be said for the final pair, Switchback and Rage simply did not exist, which left two possibilities; either they were Autobot agents, or duped Decepticons that had yet to reveal themselves, both options were made hard to believe by Rage's presence, but if Prowl was honest he had little interest in him beyond curiosity. It was Switchback that kept his attention.

Despite the Decepticon insignias Prowl had trusted him from the moment the mech had smiled at him, something had passed between them and Prowl had found it difficult to think about anyone else since, and then there was the kiss. Prowl had never felt anything like that before, or believed that such passion and need could be conveyed in such a way, or any other.

His logic circuits told him that the whole situation was impossible, that he couldn't have given into emotion so easily, that he shouldn't believe that Switchback could make him feel the way he did, but the problem with logic was that sometimes the world just didn't bend that way, and while Prowl could usually reason out anything he simply couldn't do that with Switchback.

His thoughts were interrupted by Ratchet's sudden presence, Prowl wasn't sure if the medic had knocked or not. He'd been too lost in his musings to pay attention, but there was no escaping that his friend was stood on the other side of his desk.

"You're still thinking about Antihex," the medic said quietly.

"Am I that obvious?" Prowl asked.

"I've known Bluestreak to be more discreet," Ratchet replied with barely suppressed amusement. "It's called a crush Prowl, most mechs get them at some point, although it's usually when they are much younger than you."

"Can you recommend a treatment?" Prowl asked hopefully.

"Other than a memory purge, which is risky to say the least, I'd say a few shots of high-grade and some company."

"You know I don't drink that stuff."

"You do tonight," Ratchet retorted in a tone that was best not argued with, and without hesitation or invitation he pulled up a chair and unpacked the powerful energon from a subspace compartment and made himself comfortable. "So what was he like?" he asked politely, but Prowl was all too aware of his friend's curiosity.

"My height, blue and black paint…"

"That's not what I meant and you know it," Ratchet interrupted. "What was it about that mech that's tying your logic systems in knots?"

Prowl sipped his high-grade to buy himself some time, and hoped that he could keep the dreamy look that seemed to accompany every thought of Switchback off his faceplates. "He has a smile that I'm sure would charm the Unmaker himself, and for some reason I trust him. If I could explain that then I doubt I would be having that trouble that I am, but he seems to defy logic."

Ratchet chuckled. "It seems that you've met your equal and opposite."

"Who just happens to be a Decepticon," Prowl snapped miserably.

"Maybe not," the medic corrected. "I've been asking a few questions myself. I've got nothing official. Just quiet conversations with other medics around the planet. The one from Nova Cronum thinks that there were two Special Ops teams working in Antihex, he's sure the Wreckers are in there, and maybe another unit that left the city a cycle or so later. He couldn't give details, apparently they're a relatively new unit and they've spent most of their time off base."

Prowl looked dubious. "Are there many mechs in this base that you don't know at least the medical history of?" he asked.

"It's not the same here," Ratchet said dismissively. "Optimus runs tight units, which fight shoulder to shoulder and that's not how Special Ops teams work."

"I know, I know," Prowl nodded. "And thank you Ratchet, but I think you should stop looking. Whoever he is it doesn't seem like he wants to be found. If he is Special Ops he's had plenty of time to find out who I am."

"He's probably still in Antihex."

Prowl shrugged. "Maybe, but it doesn't matter. I'm not getting my hopes up."

"Well, maybe you should take it as a shove in the right direction," Ratchet said as he rose to leave. "You need something in your life Prowl."

"I have you, and Bluestreak, Sentinel, a few other friends."

"And a vorn ago I would have said that that was enough," Ratchet said sadly. "But since you became the Prime's tactician things have changed, this war is taking it's toll."

"The same could be said for you," Prowl shot back. He wasn't annoyed with his friend, what he said was true.

"I don't avoid relationships, they avoid me," Ratchet explained curtly, before he walked out the door without a backwards glance.

Prowl looked at the high-grade that Ratchet had no doubt deliberately left behind, and sealed it up for another time. Getting over-charged wasn't his solution to problems, but it was regularly Ratchet's, and he was sure that the energon would come in handy at some point.

He sat back in his chair for a moment, his optics flickered around the office, and studied the things that made his world; the desk, the data-pads. It wasn't much, he'd always kept his work-space functional, and his personal possessions in his quarters, but he spent far more time in his office.

Is it enough? he wondered. He'd never asked himself that question before.

A.N. It's strange that I'm on part 11, but this was one of the first bits I wrote when I started this story. I guess Prowl didn't want to be left out completely, but he's not being very co-operative, I intended for him to turn up more often. He will appear again though. Take care. FB.