Title Star-crossed: Off Limits (29/36)
Characters/Pairings Prowl/Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, more as needed
Warning Forced upload, implications of torture
Summary We can never control who we fall in love with. Those determined to be together will let nothing stand in their way. This is one such pair.
Author s Note A Lamborghini's fuel capacity is listed at 100L (26 Gal). (Further research reveals that a Datsun only has a 65L (17 Gal) tank. Solidifying my theory that Prowl's shorter than the twins. ;) However an energon cube must fuel the larger models and have enough for the reserves of the smaller, plus these mechs quite likely have slightly more fuel capacity than a normal car. And now, I no longer remember what the exact amounts are. Hopefully the percentages after that make sense. O_o

Sooooo many thanks again to autumnsparrow for betaing this chapter, and to tiamat1972 for the listening ear (and for her immense amount of patience).

Apologies if the scenes aren't separated as they're supposed to be. The site's eating my scenebreaks.


Prowl moved as soon as the Con had vanished; turning to Sunstreaker, and reaching up to guide the mech down.

Sunstreaker jerked away from his touch, his glare turning on Prowl. "You are. Fragging. Repaired."

"Yes, Sunstreaker. Forty three point seven percent of my damage was repaired. " Prowl said with more patience than he felt. He stood with one hand braced against the wall, while the other rubbed at his abused neck cables. "How extensively did they damage you this time? Sit."

Sunstreaker only stood there, fists balled at his side. "What the slag is all this about, Prowl? What's going on?" Anger and distrust etched itself on his ragged, and yet still beautiful face.

Prowl sighed, letting his doorwings flick down again. "I don't want to talk about this. Let me see to your damage. Answer my question." Sunstreaker's glare intensified. "Please."

"Who the slag repaired you?" His engine growled. "Why did they repair you? You wanna answer that? Or is that something else we're not gonna talk about? He's taken you away twice now, and you haven't come back damaged." Sunstreaker took one single menacing step toward the officer. "Did you betray us?" He took another step, forcing Prowl to back along the wall to stay out of his reach. "DID YOU SELL OUT MY BROTHER?"

Prowl staggered as though slapped. "Never."

Sideswipe moaned, optics flaring briefly before fading out again. His fingers curled, scraping against the cell floor.

The two mechs glanced down, and Prowl moved closer to his lover.

Someone suddenly seized him from behind, gripping his jaw and twisting his head to one side. Strained cables pulled tight again, and Prowl's cheekguard clanked against a golden chestplate. "What?" Static hissed from his vocalizer, grunts at the aches and pains that pounded his damaged frame, but he didn't fight. Prowl knew how easily the hands holding him could twist his head off.

"Don't you touch him. Traitor"

Prowl glanced toward Sideswipe. "That is a ridiculous accusation. Not only am I an Autobot, like you, but I'm an officer." He couldn't even glare at the mech from this angle. "I love Sides, you know this. Why would I betray him?"

The hand yanked Prowl's head back, forcing the cables tighter. "No."

Prowl's vocalizer buzzed from the strain. "No?"

"No, I don't know. I know he loves you. Primus I wish I didn't, but that fragger loves you so much it makes me wanna purge. But you? I don't know one slagging thing."

Prowl slapped his hands over the warrior's and pinched and twisted the sensitive cables in his joints, pulling the yellow hands off his face. "I have never done anything without the best interests of the Autobot army and my soldiers in mind." He pushed away from the golden chestplate, glaring at the warrior. "How can you accuse me of betraying you? And Sides? Primus Sunstreaker, do you think so little of me?" He paused, allowing Sunstreaker absorb his words.

"What have you been doing?" Sunstreaker grudgingly conceded, but his arms remained tight around the tactician.

Prowl glared at the wall, the only thing in his line of sight. He could predict Sunstreaker's reaction already. "I bargained for your lives, for this cell together, and for the means to repair you."

Sunstreaker shoved Prowl away, systems heaving with contained fury. "Fragging slagger!"

Prowl caught himself on the wall. His head sagging painfully. "Do you think I'm just going sit by while they torture you?" He turned, resting his canopy against the wall to relieve at least some of the weight off his freshly damaged leg. Still his legs wobbled and his energy readings flickered their warning lights in his HUD. "These are Decepticons. They would have left you in worse condition, or killed you." He slid down the wall, hydraulics hissing with relief. Even his doorwings felt too heavy to hold up.

The warrior leaned forward, optics pale and narrowed. "You sold us out cheap, Prowl."

"Cheap?" He spat the word out, but could force no other emotion through his vocalizer, so drained was he. "You think that your lives, and your well-being—your safety—is cheap?" Prowl searched listlessly within the mass of junk that littered the floor; scrapped wires and jagged pieces of metal ripped off of their bodies.

"Slag the Autobots, slag our cause, now that you and your lover are in danger. Is that the logic behind your decision? Whatever happened to being able to separate your personal life from your duty?"

"I am not slagging the Autobots simply because Sideswipe's in danger. I would have done this were I captured and had Tracks or Cliffjumper, or Hound, or Mirage with me. Anyone else, I would have made the same bargain." Prowl glared at the golden mech, aware of how every rip and tear in his plating deformed the normally perfect specimen of Cybertronian beauty. "If, like Shockwave, all of my actions were solely dictated by logic, do you really think I would be on the Autobot side?" He closed his fingers around a thin handle, and drew a jerry-rigged tool out of the scrap. "Logic is not the only thing to determine my actions, or else I would never have cultivated a relationship with your brother. Have you forgotten that the Autobot cause is to save lives?"

Sunstreaker's lip curled, and he glared at the scraping tool in Prowl s hand. "Are you saying you think we have a pit's worth of a chance to get out of here?"

Prowl stared at Sunstreaker, smoothing his face into neutrality. "As long as we're functioning, there's always that one percent chance that we can escape."

Sunstreaker scowled. "That's slagging acceptable to you? That's slagging reason enough to give up Autobot intel?"

Prowl stood, forcing power from less essential systems into his leg hydraulics, and took a step toward the inert twin. "I cannot sit by and watch him suffer, and not act to ease his pain, even if I can't stop it altogether."

Sunstreaker's foot slid out from the imposing column of his body, ostensibly blocking Prowl's path, as if the cramped quarters of the cell would offer any refuge. His arms crossed over his battered chest and he leaned forward. "If you're trying to convince me that you have a spark anywhere in that flimsy, mismatched frame of yours, you're going to have to try harder."

Prowl huffed a laugh. "Same thing might be said about you." Prowl shifted his weight, preparing to move around the golden mech.

Hydraulics hissed when Sunstreaker matched Prowl's movement.

Black and white doorwings flared out and he glared at the other mech. "Let me by, Sunstreaker."

"Where are those slagging medical supplies you betrayed Sides for?"

Every system within Prowl's frame jolted. He ground his dental plates, his lips pulling back in a sneering grimace of his own. "They are called Decepticons for a reason, Sunstreaker."

Sunstreaker didn't relent his glare, but he moved aside and let Prowl by. "Primus slaggit."

"I agree." Prowl knelt down, busying himself with tying off leaking energon lines and seeking out the electrical shorts he smelled. The mech's ventilators wheezed, strained and hissing with each wire that Prowl scraped clear. He felt around the gaping hole in Sideswipe's torso, measuring it with his eyes and pulling up prior measurements.

The Decepticons had ripped it open even more.

Without a repair kit he couldn't attempt to close the hole, all he'd managed to do was to pull out the broken wires and a few other minor fixes. Fortunately, the Decepticons had patched the worst of the damage, thinking Sideswipe's death meant Prowl's certain deactivation. Air hissed from somewhere within the wound. His fingers delved within the hole, seeking out remembered patches, and trying to find the new damage and how bad it was. Air rushed over his fingers and he paused staring at where his hand rested.

Sideswipe moaned, shifting away from Prowl, pushing at his hand.

Prowl muted his vocalizer to a whisper, stroking the red chestplate in what he hoped to be a reassuring manner. "Shh, it's okay."

Sideswipe batted weakly at the hand probing into his wound.

Sunstreaker crouched down next to Prowl, reaching out to cup Sideswipe's cheek. "Stupid slagger," he grumbled, vocalizer glitching with emotion.

Sideswipe's optics flickered again, powering on completely to look at his brother. He smiled without saying a word and rubbed his face into the comforting hand.

Prowl looked away, turning back to the problem he'd found. Air hissed out of one of Sideswipe's ventilators, escaping through a hole just out of Prowl's reach. He moved his hands over the red chest, knowing the location of each latch without even needing to pull up a schematic. Fully unlatched, he lifted the chest plate on its hinges.

Sunstreaker growled beside him.

Air whispered out of punctures in the ventilators, and coolant foamed lightly out of the edge. Prowl set to work, pinching the holes close to the best of his ability. He sat back after he finished, examining his work.

"You're no Ratchet," Sunstreaker commented leaning forward to look over Prowl's welding.

"That is for certain. He needs a trained medic." Prowl glanced at the arm hanging uselessly by Sunstreaker's side. "You, as well." He closed the chestplate. "He also needs fuel." A quick check of his own levels made him wince. Instead he looked to Sunstreaker. "What are your readings?"

"Enough." Sunstreaker didn't elaborate, intent on the hand he stroked over Sideswipe's face. Sideswipe stirred at the touch, black fingers clinging to gold.

"Think they'll bring any?" Sunstreaker turned a most pitiful face on Prowl, as open as the tactician had ever seen on him.

As if in answer to the question, an arm reached through the bars, and deposited a full cube.

"One?" Sunstreaker's face twisted into a scowl, and his voice rose indignantly. "How the frag do you expect us to fuel three mechs on one slotting cube?"

Prowl grabbed Sunstreaker's arm, forcing his face toward him. "Quiet." His optics flashed, reflecting off the warrior's face, his voice a quiet hiss. "They don't need to be given a reason to take it back."

Sunstreaker scowled but relented. He settled again, stroking his hands over as much of Sideswipe as he could reach.

Prowl watched the gold hands move over his lover's body with a twinge of envy. The entire time Prowl had worked on the red mech, Sideswipe had flinched away or startled at his touch.

Sunstreaker's touch, by contrast, seemed to relax any tension in his brother's joints.

Prowl stood, and retrieved the full cube, careful not to spill any of its precious contents. Sunstreaker wasn't about to leave his brother after Sideswipe sustained so much damage. Prowl knelt next to the twins, doorwings swaying with his continued efforts to remain steady.

"Sunstreaker, what's your fuel level?"

Sunstreaker glanced at Prowl. He pressed his lips together for a brief moment. "I said 'enough'. Give my portion to Sides."

"Sunstreaker!" Prowl spat with all the force and authority his own waning levels could muster. "You will take your fuel, you will take the amount I tell you to, and you will process it like a good soldier."

"Sides needs it more than I do. Let him have it."

Prowl straightened, doorwings flaring at his side. "He needs you, more than you need to be stupid. Take the damned energon before I pour your portion down your intakes." Prowl shoved the cube at Sunstreaker, holding it up to the golden mech's face until the warrior took the cube from him.

"Cut your fuse short, slaggit. There's not enough in there for all three of us!"

Prowl tilted his head, running the calculations through his processor with barely any pause. "There isn't, if we're looking to top off. Since we're not, we're only seeking enough to survive, than there will be plenty. What is your fuel reading?" Prowl's tone left no room for more hassling.

"I'm hitting just at 15 percent. Think I got a leak though, so it's been dropping sorta fast."

Prowl dimmed his optics as he pulled his mouth to the side. "37.5 liters should be enough then?" At Sunstreaker's nod, Prowl sighed in relief. "Locate that feed and cut it off. There's no need to waste fuel if it's not a vital system."

Without answering, Sunstreaker lifted the cube to his lips and downed his allotted amount. He spat a little of the energon back into the cube before handing it over to Prowl.

Prowl ran another calculation to ensure there would be his intended amount for Sideswipe. He downed exactly 17.23 liters, spitting the excess back into the cube.

Prowl turned to the half-conscious mech in Sunstreaker's lap. The twin helped his brother sit up a little more.

Tapping his fingers against Sideswipe's jaw, Prowl spoke soothing words and tried to coax his mouth open.

Sunstreaker watched Prowl, amusement lighting optics. Golden hands pushed away white, and the warrior leaned down and whispered into his brother's audio receiver. Sideswipe focused on Sunstreaker for only an astrosecond, but opened his mouth for Prowl when coaxed again.

Prowl carefully poured the other 60 percent from the cube into the open mouth. He did his best not to indulge in the useless jealousy that he felt at Sunstreaker's ability to reach his brother. Still his systems twinged and grumbled as he recalled the memory file.

Emptied the cube faded from lack of power, and Sideswipe's optics faded on.

Something broke inside Prowl to see the mech focus on him first and a smile of recognition flash across his face.

"Prowl," he said, his voice breaking and crackling, faint from pain.

Prowl matched Sideswipe's smile with one of his own, cupping his hands over the mech's shoulders. He glanced at Sunstreaker, before tugging his lover out of the yellow twin's arms.

Sunstreaker scowled, but relented his hold on his brother.

Sideswipe rested against Prowl's chestplate, his ventilations rushing over the tactician's neck. Prowl sat back a little more, drawing Sideswipe even closer to him. He held Sideswipe; silent, not knowing what he could say to comfort his lover. He knew that it hurt Sideswipe to be held like this; knew in the slow whine of his body, and the wince of his hands. But he had to hold him and touch him, and know that he would be all right.

He had to know that Sideswipe wouldn't always flinch away from his touch, and that he could comfort him just as well as his brother could.

Sideswipe could have pulled away, could have objected, and could have done any number of things to let either mech know that he didn't want to be touched or held.

But he seemed as content to lean against Prowl, as Prowl was to have him there.

Sunstreaker stayed by Prowl's side, having released Sideswipe, but never removing his hands.

Prowl easily detected the hand that had slid over to rest against the golden leg, and he didn't object, didn't try to hog Sideswipe all to himself. Much as he would have wanted to. He would never have done that to his lover.

Sideswipe's systems hummed into loud recharge. Prowl didn't move, not wanting to jostle the injured mech.

Sunstreaker grunted and slid closer to his brother. "Why don't you recharge as well? I'll keep watch, then we can work on my arm."

Prowl looked at Sunstreaker from under his chevron, the demand to know why he thought he could operate without recharge lodged his vocalizer. The suspicious set to the warrior s mouth answered Prowl's question without him even needing to ask.

Sunstreaker still didn't trust him. He didn't trust Prowl with his helpless brother while they both recharged.

As if he needed another complication for this situation.


The touch of a hand on his doorwing snapped him online.

"Prowl?"

Prowl turned in alarm, wondering if something had happened to Sideswipe while he was in recharge? Peering over his shoulder at Sunstreaker's calm demeanor, Prowl know that not to be the case. Still his processor didn't slow down as he tried to understand why Sunstreaker would bring him online.

Sunstreaker silently tilted his head toward the corridor.

Prowl booted up his audio receptors, filtering out the static that came through at first until he finally made out the dull clanks of feet coming down the corridor. Prowl jolted upright, his doorwings shivering with the quick boot up of sensors and servos. Sideswipe still lie offline next to Prowl, not even moaning when the hole in his torso occasionally sparked and crackled. Shivers racked his frame, surges that burst through his systems from shorts throughout his frame.

Prowl glanced over at Sunstreaker who hadn't move since Prowl had shut down. "Did you get any recharge at all?"

Sunstreaker frowned at the tactician, his dim optics answering the question before he even had a chance to activate his vocalizer.

"We will discuss the issue later," Prowl returned Sunstreaker's glower with one of his own.

Two guards stopped at the entrance to their cell.

Prowl stiffened in alarm. Were they here to take the twins so soon? Would they give them no respite?

"You," and the Decepticon pointed one long finger at the tactician, "get up and bring your aft over here."

Sunstreaker's systems whirred from forced tension. He grabbed Prowl's elbow before the tactician could stand. Prowl looked back. He felt only mild relief that they weren't taking the warriors, for he did not relish contemplating what the Decepticons had in mind for him.

Sunstreaker gently tugged Prowl back against his shoulder. He leaned forward, resting his cheek against the back of the tactician's helmet.

The Decepticon's engine snarled. "Don't make me repeat myself, Autobot."

Sunstreaker simply tightened his hold on Prowl's joint. "Don't do anything stupid," he whispered harshly into Prowl's audio receptor.

Prowl lifted a brow ridge. "I do believe you are confusing me with your brother."

Sunstreaker harrumphed, but released Prowl's elbow. He leaned away, his lips pressed together in an unhappy mien.

Prowl stood, grazing the wall with his fingers to help keep his balance... His doorwing scraped against the wall with a squeal of metal.

The Decepticon powered down the bars as soon as the tactician came within a meter of the threshold. The larger one grabbed Prowl's doorwing, and yanked the tactician out of the cell and into the corridor. The force of the pull lifted Prowl briefly off his feet and he landed with a jolt. His knees nearly buckled and he staggered a few steps. Prowl widened his stance, refusing to give them the satisfaction of seeing him stumble, again.

The guards said nothing to him, or the other mech lying online in the cell. They both took hold of one of Prowl's arms and led him down the hall. Their fingers wrapped tightly around the square shape of his lower arm. Prowl had no choice but to follow, his feet left moving of their own volition.

The emptiness of the corridors never failed to intimidate Prowl. No enlisted hurried about their errands. None of the mechs off duty were around to stop and stare at the prisoner. The path between the cellblocks and the Commander's office wound through many hallways and up three lifts. Not once during Prowl's trips between the two destinations had they ever encountered a single Decepticon in the corridor. It made the entire base seemingly devoid of life, even though he knew it wasn't. It was as though Vertigo intended that the lower ranks not know about their high-ranking prisoner.

Although they would surely know about and have access to the twins.

The door to Vertigo's office slid open and Prowl froze at recognizing the voice that emanated from the room. The two guards shoved Prowl through and he lurched forward another few steps, irritated at his seeming lack of balance. The guards prodded him forward, hands shoving painfully into seams and joints. Prowl growled, but walked before the guards. As he ascended the ramp, he locked every miniscule system to prevent them from shaking.

The main screen held Megatron's visage, his conversation with Vertigo cut short by Prowl's arrival. The tyrant's red optics flashed eagerly at the sight of the Autobot tactician. Prowl had to suppress the fear that surged through him. Never before had he even blinked when Megatron's face would appear on the other side of a comm. link. Yet never had he faced the tyrant as a prisoner, held captive (not hostage, prisoner) in a Decepticon stronghold (one that he had to admit would be far too difficult to risk a rescue against, if the Autobots had even found them yet), and disarmed to such an extent. Prowl glared at the screen. He remained unshackled, and unhindered by a block. He could think, and he knew fear would do him no more good on this battlefield than it did out where the missiles whistled by overhead, and laser fire littered the air. He would not allow the Decepticon (a mech like any other, despite his unnatural hate for anything and anyone he deemed less than him—and it would be easier to list that which he considered greater) the opportunity to instill such fear in him without due warrant. Megatron had done nothing yet, and Prowl only stood in his presence, his freedom a mockery before such force.

"Bring him closer," Megatron rasped.

Prowl stiffened in the guards' hands, but didn't resist as they forced him closer to the camera. Vertigo expected something, and Prowl focused his tactical computer in order to deduce what that might be. Megatron turned his burning gaze away from the tactician to look toward the base commander. "He's been repaired." An observation, calmly delivered but belied by the suspicion in the red optics.

Prowl didn't relent his cold stare from the mech on the screen. He angled his shoulders back, and straightened as much as he could. Repaired he might have been, but only partially. His doorwings still responded only sluggishly to his commands, and there was the recent damage to his legs.

"Ah, you know how bounty hunters are. They couldn't keep their shocksticks to themselves. They had nearly offlined him from carelessness. I knew this wouldn't have served your purpose, Lord Megatron"

Prowl twitched at the blatant lie. Did Vertigo not expect him to take such a golden opportunity to discredit him before his leader? If Vertigo expected such a move, did it truly serve Prowl's purpose of keeping himself and his two soldiers safe and out of Megatron's hands? Prowl had no doubt that Megatron would leave the twins in Halifax as Vertigo's 'reward', but Prowl himself would be taken to Darkmount, and if this happened, then there would be no escape for him. Nor for his soldiers. Keeping silent would do him no good. That was not an option.

"You are a fool, keeping me in one place for so long, Megatron. The Autobots have surely noticed my absence and discovered my location by now. They will not allow you to hold me forever."

Megatron's lip curled up in a disgusted sneer. "Just how long are you saying you've been held?"

Megatron would suggest that Prowl, an Autobot, was lying? He, more than any Decepticon, should know better. He'd often used this simple fact against the Autobots as a whole and Optimus Prime in particular. Indignant, Prowl lifted his chin. "I, and the two under my command, have been held here for three megacycles. If you do not believe me, perhaps I could account for each cycle of my time here."

Vertigo rumbled in amusement.

The Decepticon's laughter finally drew Prowl's gaze away from the screen. Vertigo's optics shone bright with mirth, and Prowl realized with a sinking feeling that he had played exactly as Vertigo had expected him to. "As I told you, Lord Megatron, he has no grasp of time. His chronometer has been corrupted, and no longer runs linear. It affects his entire perception of time."

Prowl stared at the Decepticon, trying to assimilate Vertigo's approach to the situation.

Megatron hummed, leaning away from the screen. "He does not seem to agree with you. Why was that not fixed, as well?"

Vertigo shrugged, insolent almost in his answer, his glare on Prowl, challenging. "It didn't affect what we needed him for, nor did it endanger his life. Why waste the resources?"

Megatron's optics flashed and glanced toward Vertigo; his skepticism clear in the tilt of his mouth and the furrow of his brow.

Prowl wondered why Megatron would allow such arguing in front of their prisoner. Vertigo was instigating this, what was the Decepticon's plan? Did he wish to discredit Prowl before his commander? Yet to remain silent, still could not be considered as an option. Prowl lifted his doorwings. "I'm certain that a basic scan of my processors would ascertain their functioning state."

Megatron pressed his lips together, his optics narrowed as he regarded the two of them. "I have no doubt that he would send me a wholly accurate and unaltered scan."

Several of Prowl's systems jolted in alarm. Did Megatron already know that Vertigo was lying? A high probability considering Vertigo's known loyalties. Prowl had used such knowledge to bargain for his and the twins' safety. If the Autobots knew then it would only be accurate to assume Megatron knew as well. How much did Vertigo tell, or rather not tell, Megatron? Could he discredit Vertigo? Even if Vertigo had told Megatron it wouldn't hurt their chances any to make the attempt.

Prowl could not hide the truth from Megatron, and neither could Vertigo. He could delete it, and purge it from his memory database, and if it came down to a less than 10 percent chance of escape, he would do precisely that. Memory files were not something to be handled capriciously, and echoes of information would remain in the lasercore. But when the envoy came, Megatron, or one of his lackeys, they would hack straight into his laser core and rip the data files they wanted. No, he could not hide anything without losing the information himself.

"I am offended that you would ever think otherwise, My Lord." The lack of depth in his bow, and the dripping sarcasm in his tone belied any sincerity that might be found in his words.

Vertigo had to assume that Megatron would find out about the interrogations, he would have to count on it. Not unless he planned a system wide purge, but any medic could detect that, unless he engineered it to look like Prowl had done it to himself. Prowl could, though logically it would not be feasible, and would wind up with him being damaged even more. Did Vertigo count on Prowl considering this, and therefore count on Prowl saying nothing? If Megatron already knew, than what harm would be revealed by informing him? What could Megatron do that was worse than what he already planned? Prowl refused to follow that line of reasoning. He did not want to consider what Megatron might consider as it was, much less what might be worse than that.

Prowl stepped forward, cautiously, sensors oriented on the guards standing behind him, waiting for them to stop him. They didn't so much as twitch a servo "I'm certain that Megatron finds such a loyal and devoted follower far more trustworthy than a simple Autobot prisoner." Prowl flicked a doorwings at the base commander, catching the flash of red optics in his peripheral vision. "The bounty hunters left me immobile, and would have had no reason to apply their shocksticks an extraordinary number of times for the length that they hauled me. I'm certain that such a loyal commander as Vertigo has already shared the information he bargained for, but I assure you it is-"

"False," Megatron said, his chin resting on the back of his hand. His optics glinted with reserved amusement.

The guards shifted behind Prowl, and Vertigo growled at a dangerous pitch. Prowl didn't spare him the processing power for as much as a glance.

"Please, do you think I hadn't expected him to try to wile away any information he could from you? Or that you would agree out of simpering Autobot platitudes to keep your mechs 'safe' or whatever you consider safe. I've seen what he's been doing to them." Megatron's lips lifted in a perverse grin. "You've been giving each other the short end of the stick, thinking you had the upper hand. I knew this would happen, you're both so predictable." Megatron paused, brow ridge lifting as he observed Prowl. "Doesn't Optimus know his mechs so thoroughly?"

Any other mech would have lunged at that insult, but Prowl checked himself, aware that not only could he not reach the Decepticon tyrant, but that Vertigo had just been given reason to lash out at him.

"Any information you've given him has likely been rendered moot at this point. Security codes, locations of energon silos. No, even if any of it was the truth, you wouldn't say what's being moved and what remains or how old that information is. And I know Vertigo wouldn't dare plug into you to find any of that out. He doesn't have a hacker nearly able to keep up with you." Again Megatron smirked. "Why do you think I sent you there, rather than, oh let's say, Vos?"

Metal creaked behind him, making Prowl all too aware that he was in a room with a Decepticon. A powerful Decepticon. One who now had cause to be angry at him.

Prowl calculated his next move, a fraction of an astrosecond so the pause would not seem too long. "Truly not a surprise from the mech who believed the bounty hunters when they said that I was bonded to my soldiers, much less having any unsavory relationship with them."

Vertigo whirled then, as Prowl had expected him to, his pincers retracting to leave only the club of his arm. The full blunt force of the Decepticon's blow threw Prowl to the floor. Metal crashed and clattered, and he couldn't hear out of one receptor. His chevron vibrated, and his doorwings trembled from the impact. He lost any words exchanged between the two to the cacophony of static and ringing metal that occupied his systems. Still he forced himself upright, defiantly rising to his feet despite the way the world reeled about him.

Megatron narrowed his optics, clearly berating his commander. "-someone for him shortly. Try not to damage him anymore than he is. Megatron out." The viewscreen went white and then black as it powered down.

Prowl didn't need to hear the first part of Megatron's statement to know: they were coming for him. They were coming for him, and he had yet to have a chance to work out an escape route for the three of them. He calculated their chances to have dropped to 30 perce-

A heavy object collided with Prowl's head, sending him sprawling to the floor. He hadn't even realized that Vertigo had aimed another blow at him.

The Decepticon held Prowl down by his neck cables. He said nothing, but his optics burned with lethal intent.

Prowl wondered if he intended to take away any chance for Megatron to come and retrieve him.

"Get in here!" the Decepticon bellowed. He dropped his knee onto Prowl's thigh with a bang; grabbing hold of the tactician's other thigh with his free pincer-hand.

Prowl's vocalizer glitched in protest to the mishandling, and white hands wrapped around the club-like appendage. He didn't have time to ponder the meaning of the Decepticon's words, far more concerned with preventing him from pulling out any of his cables. He struggled to pull the pincers out of his neck without snagging them on any of the wires or support struts.

"Get your aft in here!"

Prowl's doorwings prevented him from rocking, pinning him on his back far more effectively than anything else the Decepticon did.

Another Decepticon came into the office then, his blue finish glinting with white highlights. Red optics set in a familiar blue face turned toward Prowl. The mask hid any expression on the mech's face much like his Commander. He headed straight for Prowl, kneeling next to the prone Autobot.

Counterpunch said nothing, but his engine ran with... what? Excitement? Anticipation? Nervousness? His blue hands traveled over Prowl's torso, not even pulling away as Prowl continued his struggles.

"Hold still, Autobot, or those two mechs of yours are going back into the torture chamber."

Prowl stilled, engine revving with alarm. "You want to make Megatron's angry?" He knew Counterpunch's goal, he knew even before the fingers pried his interface port open. Prowl arched away from the touch, trying to pull away from the fingers that seemed to measure out his interface equipment with a few sweeps across the connection. They were cleaning it, ensuring there would be no static short from any dust that might be in the way.

A whine whispered out from Prowl's vocalizer, squeezing past dental plates that clenched and ground together. He didn't know what they were doing now, and that frightened him far more than even facing Megatron. A quiver of terror rattled within his engine, reaching through his battle computer and into his

The Decepticon medic plugged a piece of hardware into the open port, and then a soft click sounded as he switched it on.

The small machine powered on. A computer, like what one would upload a... No!

Prowl didn't know if he shouted the word, but noise—denial, revulsion, fear—burst out of his vocalizer. Neither of the Decepticons paid him any mind, intent on the readout on the screen.

Prowl struggled, but he couldn't fight the device. It obliterated his firewalls, defenses designed to guard against the most advanced hacks. The innocuous, little device maliciously attacked Prowl's systems, forcing an upload into the tactician's main hard drive. Prowl's vents stuttered under the strain, unable to stop the device from overclocking his core processors. It ran him into the red, searing pain coursing through his central units.

Vertigo held Prowl's arms down, but the white fingers clawed at the floor, fighting for purchase and leaving shrieking grooves into the metal. The Decepticon levered his body over Prowl's, red optics flaring brightly with excitement. Even as he pinned Prowl's arms down, his pincers caressed the edges of Prowl's chestplate. He didn't look at the mech underneath him, his gaze locked on the miniscule screen in Counterpunch's grip.

The small touches along his grill and bumper, sent surges through Prowl's circuits. He choked, unable to pull enough air into his ventilators to cool the heat that rose and swelled in his engine, Prowl gasped, air rushed through his mouth, but it didn't stop the burning that could not be quenched by any amount of coolant or air, the burning that whipped through his processor, lightning in his programming that stalled whatever it touched.

Coding that no Autobot had created wound its way through Prowl's 's primary programs, it inserted itself into protocols that regulated speech, and motion, and emotion, and still something lurked within his hard drive, uploaded from the little device. A packet that remained inert, but Prowl recognized it for what it was. It terrified him.

A virus.

A virus of unknown design and intent lay in wait for a specific set of commands, of data. Prowl kept himself far away from it, attempting to sequester it within his processor and prevent it from accidentally activating and unleashing its surprise.

"Why are you doing this? What will you gain from this?" Prowl demanded as he tried to try to shove the pincers off his frame, off his arms. He pushed with his legs, and metal grunted as he inched his way up a few micro meters.

Vertigo glared down at Prowl, his optics narrow, almost smirking. "I think the intent is rather obvious don't you? Megatron won't be 'gracing' us with his presence, but that doesn't mean we can't leave something for the one he's going to send. So, just think of it as a surprise for the one fortunate enough to be sent here."

Prowl glared at the Decepticon. The worm latched onto the deepest of his subroutines, and Prowl struggled to remain online, but the worm shut him down system by system.

Prowl's engine heaved, only to stutter and stall and Prowl went offline with it.


Strokes across his canopy brought him abruptly online. Alarm signals wended down almost immediately with the realization that no Decepticon would be so gentle. He lay with his head in someone's lap, his optics only partially online, everything a hazy, black and white blur. Even without color he knew the shape of those legs; he knew every nook and cranny, each piece of circuitry and every hinge and seam. He had no cause for alarm, and his systems still needed recharge and defrag, cleaning up files and sorting them as needed.

His optics faded offline, and he only moved to curl his fingers over the white thigh beneath him, aware of the soft words that rumbled through his frame even if he couldn't comprehend them.

He lay like that for an innumerable amount of time, his chronometer noticeably malfunctioning. His systems ran at less than peak performance, the worm clogging his processors, the virus eating up space in his hard drive.

A single word whispered through his CPU, nothing created by the worm, but allowed by his own volition: 'Sideswipe...'

Fingers slid over his cheek, and gently turned his face upward.

"Prowl?"

Prowl sighed and activated his optics with concerted effort.

Blue optics peered down at Prowl, brow ridges drawn together in concern and a beloved voice quietly asked. "You online?"

"Yes."

"Good." The fingers curved, and the tips caressed down Prowl's cheekseam. Sideswipe leaned down, but his wound sparked. His optics dimmed, and he pinched his lips together, pulling his hand away from Prowl's face and straightening his shoulders.

Unwilling to leave the comfort of his lover's lap, Prowl turned his head to look at the hole in Sideswipe's torso. A small trail of energon dribbled out of the wound. Like a kick to his main processor, every system booted up and he heaved himself to his elbows.

Sideswipe pressed a quelling hand to Prowl's chest. "It's okay. The guards just roughed us up a little bit."He rested his head against the wall, but his trembling smile contradicted his words. "You've been offline a while."

Prowl worked his way through that statement, stopping on the pronoun 'us'. He twisted about, seeking for a smidgeon of yellow that would verify the presence of the golden warrior.

"We're okay, Prowl," he repeated. "They didn't take us this time, just you."

Prowl levered himself upright, seeking a better height to look over the two warriors. Sideswipe didn't stop him this time, his optics glowing dimly at Prowl, and his arms limp at his sides.

Sunstreaker lay on the other side of Sideswipe, his optics off, and systems humming quietly in recharge. His placid face such a contrast to his normal appearance that Prowl wondered (not for the first time) if they were truly one and the same mech. His yellow plating no longer gleamed in any spot, dulled by the grimy cell and abuse from their captors. Deep grooves in the paint stood out like rust on steel; grey alloy showing beneath yellow paint. The hole in his arm looked no better, but no worse at the same time The amount of damage done to him, didn't diminish is aesthetic appeal, Sunstreaker remained quite beautiful still.

Dents and dings covered Sideswipe, his red chest plate caved in places from the amount of blows it had received. Sideswipe remained relatively still, each movement measured and calculated; a severe contrast to his normal state of constant, sloppy motion. He stared at a spot on the wall until he noticed Prowl's gaze on him. He quickly smoothed away the pensive expression on his face, but Prowl could still see the shadows in his optics. "I heard jet engines."

Prowl frowned as he pulled up his relevant data on the enemy base. "Halifax focuses primarily on ground operations."

"I know. I do pay attention to more than your doorwings, you know."

Prowl glanced at the mech, arching a brow ridge speculatively. "Are you certain about that?" Prowl flicked his doorwings, scooting closer to the other mech.

Sideswipe's optics brightened slightly, but he couldn't quite manage a smile. He slid his hand up Prowl's canopy. "I'm not stupid."

Prowl's engine revved, surging with fear. Prowl didn't understand why he would be afraid of Sideswipe of all mechs.

Sideswipe drew the tactician closer, fingers tight on the black and white plates. His dim optics peered at Prowl and he shifted his head, as though it would give him a new angle to view Prowl. "Are you okay?" The black fingers slid over Prowl's helmet, and Sideswipe shifted his weight onto one leg, his other arm slipped around Prowl's waist.

Prowl braced his hands against the red chest, supporting the red mech. The sharp crackle of electricity erupting from his torso revealed the effort it took to move. Prowl didn't want the frame too close to his own, not when he couldn't stop the memories from running rampant, sensor ghosts of touch and sight and sound. "You shouldn't be doing this, not right now. They're watching."

"Let them watch." Sideswipe tipped his chin forward, brushing their lips together. "They know about us anyways. Why are you shaking?"

Prowl moved his face away, his optics burning with fearful surges. 'A worm,' the words glitched out of his commands even before they had a chance to reach his vocalizer. He gritted his dental plates, pulling his lips back in frustration as he couldn't force the words out of his vocalizer. He couldn't even say that he couldn't say. The innocuous little program that the Decepticons had uploaded blocked any attempts to explain what they had done. A few glitches burst out of his vocalizer, but that was all he could manage before he gave in. "I don't know."

Sideswipe traced his hand up Prowl's chest, until he could touch a finger to the officer's jaw hinge. "What is it? What did they do to you?"

Prowl leaned as far away as he could without depriving the warrior of support. He shook his head, unable to verbalize what caused him such irrational fear. "I don't know," he finally admitted.

Sidsewipe leaned back, his optics going dark. "Can you tell me why you came back undamaged then? What are they doing?"

Prowl patted the red chest, making sure he was stable against the wall. Thus ensured, Prowl sat back himself, his doorwing keeping in contact with the red magplate, but he didn't touch Sideswipe otherwise.

"They repaired me before they sent me back. Just as I'd told your brother."

The drone of Sideswipes fans filled the following silence, and stated far better than any words the warrior's dissatisfaction with that answer.

Sunstreaker's arm scraped across the ground, drawing the lovers' attention. The blue optics powered on, and the yellow warrior looked up without any hint of guilt, despite having clearly eavesdropped on them.

"I have nothing to admit, Sideswipe, Sunstreaker. I bargained to the best of my ability for your safety. I did take into consideration that they would betray their word. They are after all Decepticons. But I had to try."

Sunstreaker rested his cheek against brother's thigh, not so different from how Prowl had been positioned only a few breems before.

Anything he might have said was interrupted.

Footsteps clanked up the hall, and the murmur of rough voices echoed against the walls.

Sunstreaker sat up, joining his brother along the dirty wall. Three pairs of blue optics turned to the cell door.

They were coming.