A/N: Where have I been, you ask? Well, I've written almost 9,000 words of notes on a new story that I will begin after this one. It took many days to get down all those notes because the story has been building in my head for exactly a calendar year now, and I'm so dead serious about this that I even had my beta readers beta the notes. I've also been working on a guide for new fanfic writers that I hope will be helpful.

Anyway, on with "Loveless." This chapter references "The Key to Vector Sigma, Parts I and II" with only a few minor changes. Some dialogue is directly from those episodes. I actually fixed one tiny error, but I didn't touch the rest. Please forgive my good-natured fun-poking at the name "superfuel."


"No rush though I need your touch.
I won't rush your heart . . .
Somebody else was here before;
He treated you unkind
And broken wings need time to heal . . .
Trust in me and you'll find a heart so true;
All I want to do is give the best of me to you . . .
And I will prove my love
Until you're sure that I'm 'the one.'"

-Gary Allan, "The One"

Chapter 12: The One

Prowl glared at the innocuous datapad, upset and unsure how to react. After being wrapped up with Red Alert planning security measures for the humans' 'superfuel,' Prowl had resumed the task he'd set aside for a few orns: finishing the mission reports on the Elita One incident. He'd already received and processed Ironhide's report on his team, but this was a unique occasion. Since Ironhide's report could only cover his mission to find Prime, Optimus also had to submit ones on his mission to rescue Elita. This left Prowl with the unusual task of processing a mission report from his own commander. And when he'd read it . . .

Carefully drawing cool air into his intakes, Prowl cycled the heat away from his engine in slow, sure exhalations. Everything about his office suddenly seemed drawn into excruciating detail: the tick of the ancient, antique clock mounted on the wall; the Z-shaped scratch running up the far wall; the energy report datapad teetering on the desk's edge where Jazz had tossed it; and the dull, orangey sheen of the once-golden walls. Prowl's armor seemed to itch with his abrupt need to be outside, preferably traveling at high speeds.

"Primus," he hissed, irritated.

Interfaced.

Optimus had interfaced with Elita.

He had to save her life, Prowl's logical side argued. Alpha Trion told him to do that because it was apparently the only way to do so.

But this is interfacing we're talking about here, Prowl's hidden emotional side insisted. An intimate, personal connection.

Prowl sighed, confused. Although some 'bots considered interfacing not much more than a pleasurable way to release static charge or burn carbon buildup out of their systems, Prowl was among those who considered it a sacred, emotional act of love and connection. Or at least that's what Prowl had come to believe it should be in contrast to his real, lived experience with Sentinel. And what Optimus had done to save Elita was even more meaningful than normal interfacing — it was transferring spark energy, life-force energy. If Optimus had transferred enough of it, he could have accidentally bonded to Elita, which would have generated a three-'bot, lopsided bond. Such a thing, while possible, was dangerous.

Grabbing his stylus, Prowl signed off on the datapad with more force than was strictly necessary and slapped it in his outbox. He reasoned with himself as best he could, reminding himself that Prime still loved Elita like a sister, that Prime couldn't stand by and watch anyone die, and that Prime could not have been aroused in such a life-and-death circumstance. Part of him still cried out, though. He desired a more intimate connection with Optimus, and he'd been deeply moved by Prime's confession of wanting to bond with him. Something about this new information unsettled him.

"I'm being silly," Prowl reprimanded himself, and determined to set it aside, he stood and headed out of his office. It was almost time to report to the Ark's entrance for Mission: Protect Superfuel, or so Jazz had irreverently dubbed it. He would deal with his unwieldy feelings on his own since there was a perfectly rational, valid reason for Prime's actions.

Still Prowl had to wonder if he should speak up instead. Not in a jealous or accusatory way, of course, but rather in bald honesty. Optimus could likely put his concerns to rest easily, and if Prowl held it in, it might fester. Prowl didn't want to be annoying, but he also wanted to keep their lines of communication open.

This 'healthy relationship' stuff was no easy task.

Prowl shook his head at himself as he saw Optimus, Smokescreen, and Warpath exit the Command Deck, heading for the entrance, too. Prowl wasn't one to jump into action without careful planning first, so he'd wait until the superfuel was safely transferred to its new home and then reason out the best course of action.

"Are you ready?" Optimus asked as Prowl approached.

Prowl nodded. It was rare that they went on missions together since having the Prime and the SIC together was a too-tempting target and their simultaneous loss would cripple the command structure. On the issue of the superfuel, though, both Optimus and he had been equally stubborn about protecting it in person. "Ready, sir."

Smokescreen shook his head. "I promise I could've handled the on-site tactical planning by myself, Prowl."

"I'm not doubting your skills," Prowl assured him, sensing the younger mech's tension.

Warpath interrupted them with his effervescent enthusiasm. "Then let's — Pow! Wham! — get our superfuel and get energized!"

Prowl held off a flinch at the term "superfuel," which he still found to be patently uncreative. Even he could come up with more original names than that. "I appreciate your zeal, Warpath," he said dryly, then turned to Optimus, still maintaining his deadpan expression. "Shall we launch Mission: Protect Superfuel?"

Predictably, Smokescreen and Warpath seemed to think Prowl was being staid and serious. Optimus, though, recognized Jazz's irreverent terminology and Prowl's understated humor and laughed. "Certainly. Transform and roll out!"

Five breams later, as they escorted the tankers down the highway, traveling at the excruciatingly slow pace of 55mph, Prowl found himself obsessively scanning the skies, looking for the barest blip that could indicate a Decepticon presence. They had surrounded the three tankers in a diamond formation with Warpath in front, Prowl and Smokescreen to each side, and Optimus in the back, but traffic had picked up on the highway, making the formation impossible. In response, Prowl had doubled the power of his sensor sweeps, but it wasn't comforting to know that Soundwave could mask their signals until they were in visual range.

Optimus apparently shared his paranoia. "All quiet so far," he commented uneasily.

"Yeah, like they say in the movies, too quiet," Smokescreen replied, pulling up alongside Prime.

Prowl sometimes wondered why so many of the crew had developed a fascination with Earth's TV shows and movies, and his only guess was that his species' adaptive function made them more open to alien cultures. "Given our security measures, it's unlikely the Decepticons even know about the superfuel." Prowl and Red Alert had absolutely poured themselves into safeguarding all communication about the fuel, picking the best route to the fuel's new home base, and covering their activities.

"Yes," Prime said, "but if Megatron did know, he'd do anything to get his hands on it."

Prowl mentally frowned, knowing just how true that was. And as though Prime's words had jinxed them, a blaster shot struck the road in front of Warpath, blowing a crater in it. Warpath halted abruptly along with the three tankers.

"See what I mean?" Optimus pulled out and sped around the tankers, taking the lead. "Let's move it!"

Prowl and Smokescreen immediately followed, Prowl cursing internally. This was just what he and Red Alert had worked so hard to avoid.

"So much for your security, Prowl." Smokescreen sounded vaguely snide, no doubt still irritated at Prowl's insistence on being on the team personally.

As usual, Prowl pretended that the comment didn't sting, but in truth he was both insulted and frustrated. As much as he expected others to do their jobs and do them well, his standards for himself were even higher. He felt humiliated that his plan had been defeated so easily.

Megatron's yelling interrupted his thoughts. "Thrust, Dirge, Ramjet, after them!"

A chorus of "With pleasure, Megatron!" accompanied a hail of blaster shots, and Prowl had to swerve repeatedly. He could only be glad that the 'Cons wanted the superfuel and therefore wouldn't aim for it. Then again, the Coneheads weren't the best shots.

Smokescreen seemed to be sharing his thoughts. "One direct hit and that superfuel'll blow us sky high! We gotta hunt for cover."

"Cover coming up." Optimus led them straight into the approaching tunnel cut through the mountains.

Behind him, Prowl heard a panicked "Look out!" followed by the sound of crashing. For a moment he hoped the entire trine had wrecked, but when they emerged on the other side, his sensors immediately picked up their remaining pursuer. "Ramjet's still on our tail," he noted, battle computer kicking into high gear.

Optimus was one step ahead of him, however. "Right turn, everyone. Now!"

Prowl followed Prime back into the tunnel, wondering if Ramjet could truly be stupid enough to fall for the same trick twice. Except, of course, he was, and a screamed "No!" preceded the sound of another crash. What an idiot, Prowl thought, but he was relieved to have defeated him easily.

His relief was short-lived. As soon as they exited the tunnel again, Megatron landed beside them on the road's shoulder, aiming his fusion cannon at one tanker.

"Hold it, Prime!" Megatron's yell and grimace telegraphed just how angry he was at the quick defeat of his jets. "Any closer and I'll blast that tanker, and you know what kind of explosion all that superfuel will make."

Prowl transformed along with Prime, noting that Smokescreen had hung back and hidden himself in the tunnel. Suspecting what his fellow tactician was up to, he simply watched the two leaders bicker.

"You're likely to get blown sky-high, too, Megatron." Optimus sounded rather unimpressed.

Megatron didn't lower his arm. "I'll risk it, so back off, Prime!"

"No way, Megatron." Optimus stepped forward, clearly smug. "You'll have to blow us all up, and frankly I don't think you've got the guts."

Prowl nearly flinched. Given the "mega" nature of Megatron's pride and ego — the mech hadn't been named randomly, after all — that was sure to set him off.

Predictably, Megatron immediately exploded and fixed his shifted aim. "Die, you miserable—"

"Eat my smoke!" Smokescreen barreled out of the tunnel, covering Megatron with his magnetic smoke.

Having been awaiting the moment, Prowl opened fire instantly along with Optimus and Warpath, with Smokescreen joining in as soon as he transformed. Between the four of them, it only took a few astroseconds to drive off Megatron, who took blindly to the sky.

"You won't get away with this, I promise you!" Megatron yelled as he flew away.

Although Prowl was used to hearing entire litanies of Megatron's useless threats, something in the warlord's tone set his circuits on edge. Megatron wasn't just angry; he was planning something. Prowl watched him retreat, getting a very, very bad feeling about what this new, nefarious plot could be.

oOoOo

Optimus wasn't sure his orn could get any worse.

He paced in his office, disquieted by the recent news that Megatron had created a group of Decepticons out of five stolen cars and reopened the Space Bridge. It was clear to Optimus that Megatron was taking his new car group to Cybertron to be brought to life by Vector Sigma. Direct infusion by either Vector Sigma or the Matrix was the quickest, easiest way to generate adult mechs. Sparking was a long process, sometimes dangerous, and the spark created was much too small and weak to power an adult's frame. With Cybertron's energy depleted, no new 'bots had been created in millennia until Prime had utilized Earth's resources and the Matrix to build the Dinobots. However, since Optimus had used the Matrix five times in the creation of the Dinobots, it would need to recharge for almost a stellar cycle before it could grant life again, and Vector Sigma was factionless and amoral.

That meant Vector Sigma would give its requester whatever they asked for, including mechs of pure evil.

Optimus groaned, his processor aching at the mere thought of it. He rubbed his temple, horrified by the idea of what Megatron would likely create: cruel, violent mechs preprogrammed to be so obedient that they'd barely be able to think for themselves. He had to, absolutely had to, reach Alpha Trion first and stop Megatron. He'd summoned Omega Supreme to transport a team to Cybertron and now waited impatiently for him to arrive at the Ark.

The doorbell to his office buzzed, and preoccupied by his thoughts, Prime triggered the release without even asking who was there. Prowl stepped into the room, his doorwings hiking up as a worried frown bent his lips. Optimus stopped pacing and gazed at him, wondering if Prowl had gotten to his mission report regarding Elita One yet, and if so, whether he'd been upset by it. It hardly seemed like an appropriate time to ask, however.

"Sir," Prowl said, stopping in front of his desk, "Omega will be landing in exactly one breem." He paused then folded his hands gracefully. "I apologize that my security plan wasn't more effective, sir." His face was expressionless as ever, but his doorwings inched higher, betraying how upset he was. No doubt Prowl was silently berating himself and had been all orn.

Tossing aside all pretense of formality, Optimus gestured for Prowl to come closer and lifted his arm. "There's no need to apologize, Prowl. I signed off on the plan, remember? If I hadn't believed it was solid, I wouldn't have. Don't be so hard on yourself."

After a moment's hesitation, Prowl walked over, tucking himself against Prime's side and letting Optimus hug him close. "If you say so, sir."

"I do." Prime gazed down at him, noting the gentle way Prowl rested one hand on his chest. Prowl's doorwings perked up a fraction more then slowly lowered, and Optimus cherished the thought that he could comfort him.

"Are you all right?" Prowl asked, gazing up at Prime with open concern. "I know this new turn of events must have disturbed you."

Optimus smiled to himself, the sight of Prowl's care warming his spark and relaxing him. "I'm concerned that Megatron will succeed in creating new lives," he admitted, "and if he does, I fear he will make them as twisted as possible."

Prowl nodded, stroking his hand over Prime's chest in a comforting caress. "Wheeljack's latest upgrades to Omega's FDL drive should help you to arrive on Cybertron only four breems after takeoff."

As grateful as Optimus was that Cybertron's current location was so close to Earth, he knew the only real barrier between Megatron and Vector Sigma was likely Alpha Trion. Even Omega's Faster Than Light drive couldn't buy them much time when the Space Bridge generated a space-time fold that transported one in as little as half a breem. "Unfortunately, Megatron has a significant lead on us."

"I know." Prowl wrapped his arms around Prime's waist and hugged him. "Just be careful."

Moved once again by the sweet mech hiding behind Prowl's stoic exterior, Prime retracted his mask and bent down, pressing a kiss to Prowl's chevron. "I will, love." His external comm. link beeped, interrupting him.

::Jazz to Optimus. Omega's on his final approach, sir.::

Optimus nodded to himself. Finally, they could leave. ::Copy that, Jazz. Tell my team to meet me at the entrance. Optimus out.:: He glanced at Prowl, and seeing the faint, worried frown on his lips, kept his arm around his shoulders. "Would you accompany me?"

"Certainly." Prowl stayed close by his side as they exited the office and made their way outside.

Ratchet, Blaster, Hoist, Wheeljack, and Ironhide had already gathered at the Ark's entrance and were watching Omega Supreme slowly land. The sun seemed unusually bright, and it glinted off Omega's silvery armor. Optimus turned away from the blinding light and took both Prowl's hands in his. "You be careful as well. If we don't arrive in time to stop Megatron, he's certain to return here and unleash his new creations."

Prowl's faint frown became more pronounced. "I'll handle it, sir."

"About that . . ." drawled a nasal, cultured voice. Beside them, Mirage emerged from a grid of yellow lines, becoming suddenly visible. "I've just returned from the Nemesis, sirs, and you'll be unhappy to know that Megatron has created another combiner team." He held out a small data disk to Optimus. "These are the plans."

"Why am I not surprised?" Prime accepted the disk with a faint sigh. "Good work, Mirage."

Prowl's doorwings jerked up high on his back. "This is not good. Omega may be an even match to Devastator, but he's not strong enough to take on two gestalts at once."

Optimus squared his shoulders. "Wheeljack, Ratchet, Hoist, and I will discuss a solution during our flight." He paused as Omega landed, shaking the entire landscape, then turned to the shuttle. "Rocket mode, Omega Supreme. We're going to Cybertron."

Omega immediately transformed. "Rocket mode ready."

Prime nodded to his team. "Let's embark." He gave Prowl a reassuring squeeze on the arm. "You have command." For a moment he wished he could say more, but he remained professional and followed the others into Omega.

This time he resolved he'd complete his mission without worrying Prowl.

oOoOo

Prowl slipped into the medbay, and seeing Jazz in the far corner, he headed across the room. He glanced at Omega Supreme as he passed, or rather what was left of him. Ratchet, Sparkplug, Hoist, and Perceptor had been working nonstop to fix the shuttle after he'd exploded. Apparently he'd been so damaged battling the 'Cons on Cybertron that his return flight to Earth had doomed him.

"How's he doing?" Prowl whispered to Jazz, leaning against the wall beside him. He knew better than to interrupt an under-charged and overworked Ratchet.

Jazz shook his head. "They're fightin' to get him fixed before his cerebral cortex or spark goes out, but it ain't lookin' good right now."

"Primus." Prowl frowned. Optimus' mission couldn't have gone much worse. He and his team hadn't reached Cybertron in time to stop Megatron's new Stunticons from being granted life. To balance the odds, Prime had returned with five new Autobots as well, but unfortunately, the Aerialbots had snubbed the Ark's crew and stormed off the base. Meanwhile, the Stunticons had been terrorizing Earth. It was hardly what Prowl considered an optimal situation.

"Let's get out of here." Jazz clapped Prowl on the shoulder as he pushed away from the wall and headed for the door.

Prowl followed, knowing his friend well enough to suspect something was up. "What is it?" he asked once they were safely in the hall.

Jazz glanced around as though to ensure they wouldn't be overheard then started in the general direction of their offices. "I think that's my line, Prowler."

"Come again?" Prowl knew their situation was stressful, but he wasn't aware that he seemed any different than usual.

"Yer distracted." Jazz shrugged. "Something's eatin' at ya, and I don't think it's the mess with the Stunticons and Aerialbots."

Since they reached Prowl's office first, he punched in his security code and waved Jazz inside. "I didn't realize I was being so obvious." He could only guess that his irritation over Prime and Elita's 'interfacing' was showing.

Jazz gave him a wry smile. "Hey. It's me."

Prowl sighed and leaned against his desk. "Before we left on 'Mission: Protect Superfuel' — "

Jazz snorted.

" — I read the mission report on Prime's rescue of Elita." Prowl frowned, disturbed by both the information and his reaction to it. "I know I'm being ridiculous here, but I got upset. It turns out that Optimus gave her some of his life-force in order to save her." He rubbed his fingers against one temple. "Basically, they interfaced."

Jazz grew very still. "Oh."

"I realize it was a medical necessity." Prowl crossed his arms over his chest tightly, as though he'd hug himself. "But . . ."

Jazz stepped forward, squeezing his shoulder. "Hey, I'd be upset, too. Ya don't have to explain away yer feelings." He chewed on his lip for a moment. "I doubt it was sexual in nature, given the circumstances, and I don't suggest ya get angry with him. But ya should talk it out. Sometimes a little reassurance can go a long way."

Prowl nodded, but before he could ask for further pointers, his external comm. line opened.

::Prime to Prowl. Emergency. Assemble a team and report to the command deck immediately.::

::Understood, sir.:: Prowl glanced at Jazz, knowing he had overheard the message. "Let's go."

They raced out of the office and down the hallway. Prowl commed Smokescreen and Tracks as he went, and when he reached the command deck, he realized whatever it was had already upset the mechs present. Ironhide and Blaster were standing with Prime at Teletraan I's main terminal, and Ironhide was glowering, his arms crossed.

"Our best hope would be Omega Supreme," Prime was saying, "but he's down, maybe dying." His voice dropped on the last words, becoming quiet and grave.

Prowl watched his beloved with concern, hating the way Optimus carried worry for each crewmember and yet loving him for it at the same time. Prowl believed that care was what made Prime a truly great leader, but he hoped he could love and support Optimus enough to help bear that burden.

Ironhide was obviously losing patience. "An' ya let the Aerialbots take a powder?" he asked Prime.

Silently bristling, Prowl felt irritated with the way Ironhide seemed to blame Optimus for the Aerialbots' bad attitudes. Certainly Prime could have locked them in the brig, but it wouldn't have done any good. It would have only made the Aerialbots more quarrelsome. Not to mention that blame-throwing was not going to help their situation.

"Yeah, this is what I call a suicide mission, Optimus," Blaster chimed in.

"Maybe, Blaster, but we're not just going to stand by." Optimus turned to Prowl and his now-assembled team. "The key to Vector Sigma can apparently turn any object to metal. Megatron has learned this and is transforming everything in his path. He's only twenty miles from Seattle now, and we can all imagine what will happen to the city and its people when he arrives there."

Jazz traded a glance with Prowl. "Does he have the Stunticons with him?"

"Yes. But we can't delay or human lives will be lost." Prime's determination rang in his voice. "Autobots, transform and roll out!"

Prowl transformed and followed Prime's lead. Behind him trailed an angry Ironhide, who was carrying Blaster, and a very grim Jazz, Tracks, and Smokescreen. Still, no matter how poor their odds, Prowl knew they couldn't just stand by with so many humans in mortal danger.

However, as they neared their destination and the trees and ground became metal caricatures of themselves, Prowl's earlier sense of foreboding returned. As soon as Prowl got a fix on Megatron's position, the Stunticons charged them. Motormaster slammed into Prime's trailer, and Jazz was knocked into a tree. Dragstrip began chasing Tracks, and even though Prowl and Smokescreen both tried to cut him off, Dragstrip crashed into them fearlessly, throwing them aside. When Prowl saw all five Stunticons encircle Prime, his spark seemed to crystallize into ice. Before he could react, the roar of approaching jet engines filled his audios.

Seekers, he thought, horrified, and painfully transformed into his root mode despite his injuries. His best chance of helping was to employ his long-range shooting skills and act as a sniper. By the volume of the roar, it sounded like both trines, and he glanced at the sky to confirm his suspicions. To his utter shock, it was the Aerialbots, and Air Raid dipped low, saving Optimus from the Stunticons' attack. "Thank Primus!" Prowl muttered in sudden relief.

Even with the Aerialbots fighting the Stunticons, the tide of the battle didn't turn immediately. Tracks and Jazz had been injured and were in stasis lock; Smokescreen and Blaster were being harassed by Soundwave's cassettes. Ironhide was wrestling with Soundwave, and Optimus was still trying to reach Megatron. Prowl paused to radio base and request medical assistance, only to realize that the Stunticons had noticed Prime's target and three of them had veered to stop him while Air Raid and Slingshot banked to make another strafing run.

Prowl's battle computer seemed to process the images in slow motion: Motormaster barreling at Prime from one side and Deadend and Dragstrip hurtling at him from the opposite one. Given their upgraded armor and force fields, the Stunticons had proven they could do an exceptional amount of damage without hurting themselves, and Motormaster had already dented Prime's trailer. Without further thought or calculation, Prowl threw himself at his love, smashing into Optimus' side and knocking him clear. He hoped his momentum would be enough to throw him clear as well, but he felt the impact along the entire right side of his frame, the agony exploding over his sensor net. The horrific crunching and sheering of metal roared in his audios, and with a howl of pain, he jerked offline.

oOoOo

At first, Prowl was only aware of warmth, waves and waves of pleasant heat and love radiating through his frame. His sensor nodes and circuits tingled, and a gentle, affectionate force seemed to ripple through his lines. However, everything was dark and silent like an empty, abandoned storage building. It was almost like recharge except he was keenly aware of his consciousness.

My fearless, shining knight, a sad but kind voice said to him. Always guarding, always protecting. But it is I who should be protecting you. I promised.

His processor seemed sluggish, and it was a klik before Prowl recognized the voice. Even then he wasn't sure where it was coming from, and he still couldn't see anything. Why was it so dark? He couldn't sense anything, as though his audios, optics, and doorwings were all offline. Optimus?

Yes, love.

The gentle, affectionate pressure expanding through Prowl lines and circuits seemed to swell and encompass him. A ghost of sensation brushed his left hand. Was Optimus holding his hand? Are you all right, sir?

I'm fine. Just a few scratches. All is well. The 'Cons have been driven off and the key destroyed. Don't worry about anything right now. Just focus on me. Sharp worry mixed with the love.

I'm hurt, Prowl concluded. It seemed a strange thing, though, since he felt no pain. There were only the waves of pleasant heat washing through his frame and lapping at his circuits. It reminded him vaguely of their trip to the Caribbean, when Prowl had sat on the beach and let the warm water stream over him.

A pause. Yes, you are. But I need you, Prowl. I love you. Please, please stay with me. A note of desperation haunted the voice.

I'm going nowhere, Prowl assured him, his spark stirring at the words. A distinct pulsing intensified in his spark from the convergence of emotion and energy. I want to be with you.

A surge of love and affection. Yes, I can feel that. Hang on for me, then, and we will be together.

Prowl's sensors narrowed the sensations enough for him to detect the warmth's point of origin: his abdomen. The heat was entering through the input port under his decorative red triangle. Energy transfer? Given the usually intimate nature of such a connection, Prowl supposed he should be mortified, but the heat traveled directly to his spark, warming it in a comforting way and keeping his embarrassment at bay.

It took his dazed processor a moment to analyze that little factoid.

You're connected to my systems! Another moment and Prowl realized he wasn't speaking aloud. You're talking to me over the connection. You're — The situation's entirety dawned upon him as he registered the thick stream of energy tingling in his spark now. You're giving me spark energy to keep me alive.

Another surge of love and worry. Yes, love. Now please stay with me.

Prowl felt it then: a caress against his cheek, a squeeze of his left hand, even a cool breeze over his plating. With monumental effort, he onlined his optics, immediately seeing the cable hooked into his abdomen. He couldn't feel the right side of his frame, which he saw was grotesquely crushed and mangled. His leg and arm were flattened and his side dented in. Processed energon adorned his frame in purple splashes.

Leaning over him, Prime caught his gaze, and his optics burned overly brightly. "It's okay, love," he whispered. "Stay still and preserve your energy. Ratchet stabilized you first, and as soon as he stabilizes Jazz and Tracks, we'll be transporting you all back to base."

"Jazz?" he managed to choke out, worried for his friend.

"He's not as badly injured as you are," Optimus said. "Try not to worry. Ratchet will take care of him."

Clinging to Prime's assurances, Prowl held his gaze, their love silently washing through their connection. He instantly knew there was no need to ask about Prime's having given Elita life-force energy because he was now doing the same for him. More than that, Prowl could feel the density of Prime's love for him. It fell on him like a thick, warm blanket, physically tangible in its intensity, all-encompassing and unconditional. Even if he hadn't been injured, Prowl would have been unable to move from the stunning force of the adoration flowing into him.

"I'm going to take care of you," Optimus whispered, retracting his battle mask just long enough to press a kiss to Prowl's left palm. "Good care. I promise."

Prowl's vents hitched as another surge of Prime's love poured into his spark. Primus, I love you! The thought rushed out of him unchecked.

And I love you. Optimus pressed Prowl's hand against his chest.

The crunching of dirt indicated the approach of another mech, and Ratchet knelt at Prowl's side. "You're online? That's amazing." He glanced at Prime. "Can you carry Prowl back to base in your trailer? I know Motormaster damaged it."

"Certainly. It's only a dent." Prime gently unhooked himself from Prowl's systems, returning his cable to his abdomen while Ratchet closed the cover to Prowl's input. Then Optimus stepped aside and transformed, summoning his trailer from his extended subspace.

Ratchet and Ironhide helped load Prowl into Prime, but he hardly noticed their efforts. His systems begged to be shut back down so he could conserve energy, but the real source of his distraction was the intimate knowledge that had passed between them: the true depth and sincerity of their feelings for each other.

Prowl had finally found The One.


Postscript: As always, thank you very much to the following for their support and reviews: Vivienne Grainger, Dendey, Kaede Akira, Shizuka Taiyou, Optimus Prime 007, OrionPrime92, BitterSweetDrug, sphinx01, Glittersong, TransFormers101, Yami-Yugi3, reaper mendez, Carmilla DeWinter, steelcrash, renegadewriter8, LaurenTheCrazyVampire, taralyden, Kikarigirl18, and Optimus Bob.