Ratchet's POV

I carried the femme in my arms quickly across the shore line, my processors swimming with worry. The femme hadn't had any fire wall updates or even any installed. I was worried for her mental health, worried that if I went in to do to much it would do more harm than good.

Now I see that I was wrong. I needed to go through her processor, I needed to check to see how her mental state was. To see what damage was done to what areas, from both when she was a human and now.

Stalking into med-bay I shut the door in the faces of the three datsuns following me. For extra precaution I entered the security code to keep them from entering. Looking over at her I could feel the spark in my chassis tug.

She could barely online, her systems stalling and keeping her under. She suddenly seemed very young to me, something that disturbed me greatly. She was in her adult frame, and yet something about her screamed innocence.

Sighing, I stalked bast her and grabbed a large machine with a many cables and cords. It was called a Processor Synthesizer. A machine used more for interrogation now than for medical purposes, it saddened me to no end. Tools built for healing were now built to torture.

.:Prowl to Ratchet.:. I huffed, but answered anyways. I needed to get started, but a quick glance at the femme told me she wasn't going anywhere anytime soon.

.:Yes Prowl?:. I snapped irritably.

.:Please let me know when you are finished examining the femme.:. The SIC's smooth voice came back completely calm. No matter how slagged off and rude I was he was always fragging calm. It irritated me to no end, and yet I respected it.

.:Fine, but keep your siblings busy. Ratchet out.:. With that I cut the com. Link and turned to the turquoise femme on the berth. Shaking my helm I gently shifted her onto her abdomen and opened the back of her cranial unit.

Looking over the back of her helm I picked up one of the cables and carefully inserted it. It had been awhile since I had used this machine, but I still remembered where everything went luckily. Within a few breams I had a labyrinth of cables and cords leading from the back of her helm to the machine.

I turned on the machine so it could do its scanning of her processor, looking through all of her files and into her coding. Checking her processors for any damage what so ever. Looking at the last little slot I slowly sat down beside her, pulling out my cable jack I slid it into the slot and closed my optics.

The familiar void acted as a vacuum pulling my cognitive state from my own frame and into hers. Within moments I was within her processor. Everything was scrambled, it was a wonder that the poor thing could even function properly.

With a gentleness sparked from millions of vorns of being a medic I gently shifted through her processor. Everything seemed rattled, trampled, sifted through with no head of caution. It made me angry that someone would do this, it was low even for a con.

Her basic files gave way to more intimate bits: her memory and emotion core. I took a cursory glance at the basic files and inwardly snorted, the machine could sort those.

However, I needed to personally go through her memory and emotion core to check on her. The computer wouldn't be able to do it accurately, but I could. I paused before the core of her being, and gave an internal wince.

What I was about to do was extremely intrusive, I was delving into her very consciousness. Seeing her very being through her optics. It was almost as intrusive as seeing a bots spark. I frowned, thinking back on when she was a human.

How badly was she damaged by her mech creator, mentally wise that is. She seemed to be healing rather nicely, but that didn't mean anything. I'd seen bots who had made themselves look perfectly stable, and yet on the inside they were the most insane of the bunch.

Of course you also had bots like Redalert who showed how bad off they really were. Huffing wearily I pressed forward, a bright glow seemed to engulf my consciousness and then I was one with her cognitive core processor.

TTTTTTTTTTTTTTT

Soft laughter bubbled up in my throat while I played with my mom, I was only two years old. Not old enough to understand why she was always in trouble with my father.

"Mommy! Mommy! Look a' wha' I got!" I held up a single white flower, a gentle laugh fell from her lips. She picked me up and held me close to her, nuzzling our faces together.

"Oh aren't you such a sweet girl!" I giggled softly; but like all things, our fun had to end.

I looked up as the door burst open, my father stalking in with the distinct smell of booze lingering on him.

"You bitch!" My father slurred before smacking my mother. My eyes were wide, filled with tears as he ground his foot down on my flower. The white petals shredding and tearing, just like my innocence. My fathers drunken form beat my mother, and I was powerless to do anything but watch...

-blood staining white flowers. Evil tainting all that is pure.-

I was five, my father snagging me by my hair as I tried to run from him. A loud cry of pain left my lips, he hated it when I cried.

He brought his fist to the side of my chubby cheek, tears swelling up in my eyes as I cried and wailed loudly. I tried to crawl away from his angered frame, fear welling up inside of me.

"Stop wailing!" He pulled out a knife and grabbed me by my hair again. I let out another wail of agonizing fear, then blood spattered the floor as he slid his knife across my throat. He grinned evilly and picked up a phone.

"You're not getting off as easily as that whore you called your mother!" He dialed in something and pretended to sob.

"Hello, 911! It's my daughter! I was cooking and she came over and grabbed my wrist, before I could stop her the blade hit her throat! Please, come quick!"

Sirens wailed in the night, paramedics 'comforting' my father. I was loaded up and sent to the ER for immediate surgery. I would never be able to talk again. The police asked no questions, they just sent me back to the monster.

Again and again I was sent back to the monster, after every visit. Police officers, medics, anyone of authority always sent me back. I began to harbor a deep hatred, and fear, for authoritative figures. After all, why should I respect those who didn't help those in need. They pledged to help others, and yet they sent me back. They. Sent. Me. Back.

-blood staining the white, vanity and greed stealing the innocence. Seven deadly sins reenacted over and over again. Falling, calling, silently begging for help. A silent plea unheard...-

I sat in the classroom, ten years old now. Other children shunned me, I went unnoticed by the teachers. I wasn't even registered on the radar, I was a blip that was forgotten as soon as I appeared.

-Falling, calling, silently begging for help. A silent plea unheard...-

Thirteen now, blood stained my pants. I had heard of other girls talking about this, it was normal right? I swallowed and covered myself with rags, hiding the rust that fell from my core.

Agony searing my innards. Was I okay? I had no one to ask, my mother was dead. I only had the monster here.

-Crimson stained the white, a slicing blade across thy throat. A rose falling from its stem and turning black without its hope-

Sixteen today, no birthday acknowledgment yet again. Looking up at the sky as I sat on the roof I wondered again about my mother. Silently a tear slid down my face.

Was she proud of me? Did she miss me? I sure did miss her, even if she was only a blurry figure of my memories. Father said she left because of me, was that true? I shivered and let out a silent sob, my teeth clenching as tears fell on my clenched fists.

I was alone, so utterly alone.

-innocence and instinct, pride and humility. The basic compositions of a person, but I was none, who was I?-

Laying there in the forest, pain sweeping through me. A gentle voice, soothing hands.

-they gave me back...m-m-mommy help me!-

Agony taking over, I was changing. Metal exploding out, skin disintegrating.

-You lied! It was a bet?!-

I traded one prison for another...

-m-m-mommy help me!-

TTTTTTTTTTTTTTT

I quickly pulled out of her memory core. I was disoriented. Her memories were so scattered, so full of agony. She was so young, way to young to have a mate, and yet she acted like an adult.

She feared authoritative figures, that was why she bowed up at Prowl. She was scared he would give her back to her sire. Her sparkling like consciousness telling her he was bad, that he meant her harm.

Wearily I moved into her emotion core. Nothing was stable, everything scattered like a shrapnel bomb. I winced, she was scared of us, all of us. Everyone, but Blue. I had seen how he was with her in her memories. Her memories of him were very clear. I saw how he held her, how he kissed her, how he made love with her.

She craved his touch not as a mate, but as something stable. She didn't know what she wanted, so she bonded with him. Her systems were to young, to innocent. She was, but a mere youngling and that was stressing it! She had the core stability of a sparkling!

Pulling from her consciousness I opened my optics and unplugged my cable. I was trying to retain my anger and repulsive feelings toward her sire. Toward the adults and authorities she had had experience with in her life cycle.

How come she had never come to speak with one of them openly was now known. I had to report this to Prime, Prowl and Jazz. I checked to make sure that she was still in deep stasis, the machine wasn't even near being finished processing. I winced at that. Primus, we have a lot to fix.

I couldn't believe that I hadn't caught this earlier! I was furious with myself. I was the best damned medic on Cybertron, how had I missed this?

.:Ratchet to Prowl:.

.:Prowl here:.

.:Gather Prime and Jazz in the war room for a meeting.:.

.:Affirmative. Permission for the status of the femme?:.

.:I'll tell you more when I get there, but she is stable.:.

.:Good, the meeting will start in a bream. Prowl out.:

With that the connection was cut. I stalked down the hallways, watching for humans. The memories of the femme were replaying over and over in my helm. How has she survived this long? It was no wonder her psyche was starting to crumble!

She was glitching almost as bad as Redalert from the stress on her systems. She needed a stable guardian to remedy the problem. Stalking into the war room I looked over the three waiting mechs and hit the security key, the door wouldn't open to anyone from the outside now.

I then pressed another button making the sound-barrier shields come up. Now we wouldn't have to worry about eavesdroppers. Such as the twins...I thought with a grumble.

"Ratchet, old friend. Why have you called this meeting?" I turned to look at the Prime, my optics grim.

"I called it because I have news on the femme."

"News? W'a' is s'e ill or some'in'?" Jazz rumbled from his spot. His visor darkening to a deep indigo, almost black. The usual sign of him masking his true emotions, but I knew him all to well. He was worried. After all, Jazz had taken to looking at her in a sibling type fashion.

I leaned forward with a heavy sigh, rubbing the metallic plates that made up my fore helm. I was exhausted mentally, my processors swirling with the data. She was just a youngling? She had seemed older as a human by the way she acted, I had just presumed...yet she had a guardian that should have been my first clue!

"Ratchet?" I looked up to see the three mechs watching me, my fists clenched on the table. Sucking in a deep vent I let it rush out in an overheated huff.

"When I was scanning the femme's processor I came across sensitive information pertaining to her past as a human. Everything up until this point I have looked through thoroughly, whilst the Synthesizer is going through her programmings to look for any problems there."

"Am sensin' a 'bu''." Jazz rumbled softly. His lip plates no longer showing human, but instead were set in a deep line of aggravation. Sighing heavily I looked at Optimus, my spark pulsing painfully in my chassis.

"I don't know how I didn't catch it faster, she's so young Optimus. Young and not innocent at the same time. She has experienced much and in time it has made her far older than she should be. However, her core processors are still functioning in the rhythm of that of a late sparkling to early youngling."

All was silent, all but swirling vents and thrumming systems. Suddenly Prowl leaned forward, his digits tapping at a data pad. He always did that when he was uncomfortable or stressed. By the stance of his door wings I would say that he was uncomfortable.

"If that is the case Ratchet, then how did her programmings allow her to bond with my sibling. A younglings programmings protect little ones from these kinds of rash decisions."

I scowled and leaned back, again letting my gaze drift over my fellow officers. The three mechs I had fought with for millennium, healed them, ran after them like a fem-bot to keep them in line even. Huffing I offlined my optics and set my helm in my servos.

"She doesn't have those kind of programs Prowl. They were never set up because we automatically assumed she was old enough to handle herself!" I snarled angrily, pain pulsing in my spark at the realization that this femme was still very much way to young. She was far to young for the intimacies of Bluestreak, far to young for war, and way to scared to let us help her.

"So you are saying that the femme is still a minor and therefore should not be able to make decisions by herself?" Optimus asked softly, leaning forward to place his large servos on the table top.

I lifted my helm and flicked my optics back online, gazing up at the regal Prime. His optics shadowed in concern for the little one. I huffed another sigh and nodded.

"That's exactly what I'm saying. She needs a guardian to help her. She maybe in her adult frame, but she is far to young of processor to be by herself."

"Wha' 'bou' Blue? 'Ey a'e bonded." I looked at Jazz silently, worry turning to irritation. Scowling I looked back up at Optimus.

"I know that she is bonded Jazz! However, restrictions need to be made to protect her." I saw the way Prowls door wings went rigid, optics flashing a crystalline blue.

"Protect her?" Prowl rumbled the words deathly silently. His optics narrowing in on me, I tensed realizing how that could have been taken. Prowl maybe act sparkless, like a drone at times, but I knew how protective he was of his siblings.

"Prowl, I do not mean to protect her from Blue. I mean to protect her from herself and cons." Prowl seemed to relax slightly, wings flicking.

"I apologize for my assumption. Aside from that, there is the concern of who shall be her guardian. She is going to need someone stable and responsible." Jazz suddenly sent a leering look to Prowl, a smirk on his lip plates. His visor now glowing a steady azure.

"W'y no' you Prowler?" His optics darted to Jazz, wings tensing up into a sharp 'V' from surprise. He suddenly looked like a petro deer in the helm lights. I gave a feral grin of amusement.

"You are absolutely correct Jazz. Prowl would be best suited for such a task." My amusement faded into seriousness after a few moments of thinking over this.

"She's terrified of Authoritative figures, I could see it from her processors. The only reason she's not as intimidated of Jazz is because of his personality."

Jazz frowned and leaned back, kicking his pedes up onto the table while placing his servos behind his helm. I gave him a pointed stare when he did that, he just grinned cheekily back. Prowl huffed and glanced at us, his optics narrowing as if to say silently 'you are all conspiring against me'.

"If the femme is terrified of us, then why choose me?" Optimus leaned forward after Prowl had spoken, his optics intense. The deep sapphire coloration burning into the three of us.

"If this is so, then she must be shown that not all authoritative figures are going to bring her harm."

"Optimus, if I may, I find it pertinent to get back to med-bay as soon as possible. She should be onlining very soon; however, I would like to suggest that you and Prowl come with me." Jazz suddenly huffed.

"Wha' am ah, chopped liva!" I grimaced at the human expression. Looking at the saboteur I shook my helm tiredly.

"No, but I would prefer the more serious ones to be there. The sense of calm they emit would surely relax her more then your...eccentrics." Jazz pouted but said nothing more, his visor glowing dimly with irritation.

Fraggin' mech acts more like a youngling then the femme! Standing up I quickly turned the sound-barrier off and took down the security override. I could feel the prescense of Optimus and Prowl hovering behind me as I quickly stalked through the base and toward my med-bay.

Humans were beginning to change shifts now, as the ones from last night left and were replenished. It made navigating the halls difficult seeing as I did not wish to crush the organics, but not impossible. I quickly sent a mental command to my med-bay doors, they opened flawlessly.

The metal plates splitting and sinking into the walls, the crimson cross that adorned them splitting in half. Stepping through with the two mechs not to far behind I quickly made my way to the femmling. She was still offline thankfully, but the machine was blipping.

I pressed a button on the top of the machine, the cords and cables connecting to the femmes helm disengaged with a hiss. Walking forward, I gently closed the seal on the back of her cranial unit manually.

Turning away from her, I looked at the beeping machine and hooked up a smaller slender cable with a flat port from my wrist to the main port on the piece of technology. I offlined my optics and began sorting through the millions of megabytes worth of information. A soft humming noise left my vocal cords as I opened one file after another.

Scanning initiated...

…..firewalls: nonexistent...

…..memory core:

*Long term: damaged...

*Short term: corrupted...

…..processors: tampered...

…..extent of cog. damage: extensive...

…..Memory Capacity:...50%

…..Stability of coding protocols: 40% working capacity...13% working efficiently...

…..Basic Subroutines: …..damaged...damaged...

…..internal software: …...corrupted...tampered...corrupted...30% undamaged.

…..Internal com links:...damaged...

…..Transformation cog:...100% working capacity

…...Core processors: ..tampered.

…..Detection: unknown programing

*Scanning unknown programing: ….scanning...scanning...programing labeled.

…..Programming: Slave gestalt.

…..Programming state: Active

I initiated the launch sequence and allowed the machine to copy all of the information onto my medical storage database. Creating a back up file, I saved it in my personal Internal Computer System and sent it to my data-pads.

Unplugging from the machine I onlined my optics and shook my helm. Anger swelling up inside of me, irritation at what was being done to her processor consuming my spark like a chemical fire.

"What is it old friend?" I looked up at Optimus, a tick forming in my jaw strut. I ground my denta together, fists clenching with a creak of metal.

"The only thing not damaged is her Transformation Cog! Everything else has been tampered with and damaged." I was more than a little slagged off.

The fragging con was destroying her mentally without even touching her! But why does he want her so badly that he would harm her processors? Why does she have that...I froze. Slave Gestalt programming. It wasn't normal gestalt programming like the Arial Bots, Techno-Bots, or Protecto-Bots.

This was the type of programming that Soundwave and Blaster had. Programming built for cassettes. I looked up at the two mechs, optics narrowing dangerously.

"I think I know what is it that Soundwave wants. He-" Before I could finish the thought I picked up on systems onlining. Turning away from Optimus and Prowl I gave them a 'later' look.

They nodded as I quickly made my way over the little fem-bot. I paused, hurried over to a cabinent and grabbed medical mid-grade for her. Walking back over to her I calmly looked down at her, watching her with hidden fury. Soundwave would not get his servos on her, not if I had anything to say about it.

Her optics dimly lit up, systems obviously cycling sluggishly. I reached forward and brushed my digits against a wing panel. Immediately her optics snapped online. She sat up, abdominal plating resting against the berth with her fore-arms holding her up. She looked around in confusion, seeming disoriented.

"Wha...?" Even her vocalizer was struggling to online. I couldn't help the tugging at my spark, my optics softening. She is so young, how had I not seen it before?

Sighing heavily through my olfactory vents, I gently touched her shoulder joint. She jumped and looked up at me with wide optics, confusion on her face-plates.

"Easy, you're safe. Drink this, your systems are extremely depleted." She winced, but slowly rolled over to sit on her aft and took the cube with weak digits.

"Thank-you." The words were muttered, weak, soft. I sighed and looked back at the other two mechs in the room.

.:Looks like we're back at square one with her. She's clammed up again.:. ~Ratchet

.:Indeed. We will have to be patient with her.: ~Optimus.

"Autumn." Said femme looked up at me, uncertainty in her optics. I could see a wavering trust in her optics, she didn't know if she should or shouldn't trust me. I didn't blame her after everything I had seen in her processors.

But- I reminded myself. She has been through much and needs us to be stable, something she can cling too. Offering a small smile to the femme, I turned to the other two mechs.

"You've met Optimus yes?" She looked weary, glancing at the regal mech before glancing at Prowl. The almost cold look he was sporting had her flinching. I sent Prowl an angered look, he huffed and gazed right back at my critically. Rolling my optics at Prowl; I nodded to Optimus, whom then stepped forward.

"Autumn. I understand that we have not communicated much in the past few months." The femme looked somewhere between the verge of crying and glitching. Her optics wide, holding the cube as if it would protect her from the great Prime.

It saddened me to see that expression, she was just one of many victims I had seen in my long medical career. A pang stabbed at my spark, she looked so lost and scared when looking up at Prime.

"I...I...Whatever I did I'm sorry." She squeaked out. Optics suddenly diverted, her frame shivering. Anger pulsated through me, ripping and tearing at my spark.

If it weren't for my medical programmings I would track down her creator and rip him limb from limb. Optimus let out a long low sigh of sorrow, regret shimmering in those sapphire depths.

"Little one, you have done no wrong deed to warrant such fears." She slowly looked back up, wings twitching every which way. Fear shimmering in her optics.

"I-I haven't? But then...why...?" Optimus stepped closer slowly, his optics intensely studying the femme. When she didn't flinch or make any signs of fear, he moved closer still and gently set his large servo on her dainty shoulder.

Her wings flicked as she gazed up at him, optics glimmering with suspicion. I winced inwardly, that memory loop has thrown her back quite a bit. It was going to take awhile to regain her trust, her processors were just to scrambled.

"I am here on your behalf. From what Ratchet has spoken of, your mental states are...questionable." The femme flinched and looked away, shame shimmering in the electric blue depths of her optics.

"For your safety and well being you shall be sharing quarters with Prowl for now." The femme looked up Optimus suddenly, as if he were insane. She looked at the SIC, then back to the Prime.

"But...I...Why?!" I smiled faintly, poor thing looked like she was on the verge of wanting to punch the Prime and try to make a run for it.

"You are far to young to be living by yourself. Much less having intimate relations." She stared at Prowl and then at Prime.

"This is just one big conspiracy! So what, now I'm a prisoner again!" The Prime seemed to recoil from such an assumption from the femme. I winced, even Prowl seemed stunned.

"Since when were you ever a prisoner? When have we ever done anything to make you feel as such?" She slowly looked up at Prowl, her optics flashing with a hidden emotion I couldn't detect.

"Since I became one of your kind! I'm nothing, but a means to getting sparklings!" I froze, spark pulsating with an odd sensation.

"Femme you are not a brood mare." She looked right at me, optics glowing eerily beneath her white chevron. Her wings flicked back like the audios of a Petro Hound when it felt threatened.

"I am deeply saddened that you have felt as such, but know that we never thought that of you. For your protection Prowl will now be your guardian, you will stay with him, and that is the end of this argument. Understood."

Optimus's tone held a finality to it, and yet he never raised his voice. It was a constant soothing rumble. The femling was glaring at him, her wings still down in that defensive pose.

"Clearly." The Prime looked up at me and offered a nod. Pivoting he left the med-bay. Prowl however, stayed.

Normal POV

I didn't remember much after I woke up. I remembered the beach incident, meeting Hound and the others.

I remembered my bonded, training with Jazz...but everything felt so corrupted and foggy though. I remember my studies of Cybertron, but my only memories of the two mechs were of when I first onlined.

I couldn't help, but to feel safer with Ratchet. Something told me that the medic would keep me safe. I couldn't believe that the mech that hated me, the older sibling of my mate, was going to be my guardian. I would have to live with him?

I watched the large blue mech with the flame decals, leave the room. The medic gave me a glance of encouragement and then left me with my fellow Praxian. I stared at the mech known as Prowl, and he at me.

"I am not positive to how much you remember seeing as your memory banks have been damaged, so I shall simply reacquaint myself with you."

I gazed at him with non trusting optics. He had police decals, police didn't help anybody. They always sent me back to my tormentor, why would he be any different?

"My designation is Prowl, SIC of the Autobots, and the elder sibling of your mate, Bluestreak." I was quiet for a moment, gazing at him contemplating his words and trying to match it up with memories. After a moment a dim memory of the three datsuns came up. A small tidbit of each clinging to them.

"Smokescreen is the eldest of all three of you..." I murmured more to myself than anyone else. Prowl nodded, watching me with a calculating gaze. I was trying to remember, I honestly was, but everything was so scrambled.

I could barely remember my own mate. Pain echoed deeply in my spark, what kind of mate was I if I couldn't even remember my other half properly? If I couldn't remember his family?

A soft keen left my lip-plates as I curled in on myself. Why couldn't I remember who they were? Who was the purple mech with the red visor that I kept seeing? I shivered and looked up at Prowl.

"I-I'm sorry...I can't...I can't..." Coolant welled up in my optics, pain tearing through me. I was going to be punished, I just knew I would be punished for not being able to answer him.

I was...I suddenly froze. I looked up, blinking the tears out of my blurry vision. A warm servo was rested on my helm gently, the cold blue optics of the SIC were on my own. After a moment his optics seemed to thaw.

"You are in no trouble for not being able to remember. I will help you retrieve your memories, but I ask only one thing." I shivered, optics wide in fear. What does he want?

"What's that?" I finally managed after a few moments. He smiled, actually smiled. I wasn't sure what to do, I was confused.

"Trust me." Trust him? That wasn't something easily asked. That was a lot to ask actually. How did I know he wouldn't break my trust?

"I do not require you to openly trust me now, but in the future you will hopefully." I felt some of my fear lesson, my spark slowing down as the tension in frame uncoiled just a little bit. He seemed honest.

"O-okay..." He retracted his servo from my helm, instead he held it in front of me rather than on me. I looked at his servo then up at his calm expression. Swallowing heavily I slowly took his servo. He gently pulled me up and grabbed my cube of mid-grade, placing it in my servos.

"Refuel, we will head to my quarters to get you settled in after." I nodded and quickly swallowed the mid-grade down. Not because I was excited, but because the stuff tasted nasty. Prowl took the empty cube and placed it in the recycling center for me.

He motioned for me to follow him, I silently trotted behind him out of the med-bay. I was trying to be obedient seeing as I really didn't want to be punished. If he was my guardian then that meant he had full rights to punishing me, and I knew how painful that could be.

We walked down a hallway, away from the humans and into the deeper regions of the west side of the base. This side seemed built for our kind, and only our kind. We had a rec room, communal showers, offices and lastly the quarters.

Prowl silently walked past the first hall of quarters, the second and even the third. He made a right down the steal gray hallway, walking down it and past a few doors until he came to the last one on the right.

"The code is four-six-six-five-zero-nine (46-65-09) if you ever need to get in and I am not here." I nodded slowly, watching him type in the pass code and then place his servo on the flat scanning surface. An automatic voice welcoming us in sounded off as the door opened.

I slowly slunk in after my guardian, looking around nervously. It was a wide spacious area with a living room of sorts. There was a 'kitchen' that connected to it, filled with energon and different minerals to add to it.

A large concrete 'couch' with softer carbon fiber cushions. There was even a smaller metallic table in front of it, with a glossy surface.

I slowly moved forward, unaware that Prowl had leaned back against the wall to study me. I slunk across the room, jumping at any little noise that was heard. Poking my helm around a door way I moved in to see a 'master bedroom'. It had a personal wash-wrack connected to it.

Moving out I found a smaller, but still equally spacious, 'guest room' with its own personal wash-wrack. Backing out of there I slunk back into the living room to see Prowl leaning against the wall and writing on a data-pad.

Prowl POV

The femme, even after loosing more than half of her memories, was still scared of me. I slowly stepped forward seeing she seemed to be ready to glitch. I knew all to well how painful that was, especially seeing as certain mechs -twins- liked to make me glitch.

She was stuttering, unable to get the words out of her vocal processor. Cleaning fluid building up in her optics. Sighing softly, I remembered that it helped Redalert when Inferno offered comforting touches when he was about to glitch.

So stepping forward I gently placed my servo on her helm. I wasn't sure what else to do, but it did seem to help. She was still now, the sounds of stressed systems slightly dieing down. Applying a bit more pressure from my servo, sort of like a safety blanket, I waited until she calmed just a bit more before speaking.

Her optics were wide when they slowly onlined and looked up at me, with a look that pulled at my spark almost painfully. I hadn't seen that look since Bluestreak watched the fall of Praxus. He was but a sparkling and left alone with our creators, while Smokescreen and I were serving with the Autobots.

"You are in no trouble for not being able to remember. I will help you retrieve your memories, but I ask only one thing." I watched her shiver, seeing the fear in her blue optics.

"What's that?" She finally managed to get the words out. I offered her a soothing smile, Smokescreen always said they were disarming to the little ones.

"Trust me." I murmured gently. I understood that it was a lot to ask, but I did not require her full trust right now. I knew how hard it was to trust another, especially after what I had seen and been through. After all, I was the one who sent my two siblings on the mission that almost got them offlined.

"I do not require you to openly trust me now, but in the future you will hopefully." I spoke the words with unfaltering honestly. I kept the smile small, but still gracing my lip components, and after a moment I was rewarded. She slowly relaxed under my servo, optics holding a little less fear.

"O-okay..." I slowly pulled my servo away from her helm, a flash of dissapointment flaring in my spark. I frowned at that, but tried not to show it. Offering my servo I waited until she took it so that I could help her up.

Once she did take my servo, I gently pulled her to her pedes. Leaning around her tiny frame I grabbed her medical mid-grade energon.

"Refuel, we will head to my quarters to get you settled in after." I watched with faint amusement as she quickly chugged it down. I knew all to well how badly it tasted, I was in the med-bay often enough to know that. Once she was finished, I took the empty cube and placed it in the recycling center for her.

Turning I motioned for her to follow me, the sounds of her pedes moving after me was surprisingly soothing. She is quiet...too quiet....

I frowned, optics narrowing as I tried to figure out why. Had I done something to offend her? I thought back and didn't see anything to suggest that. Perhaps she is fearful I will punish her...I cringed inwardly.

The poor thing honestly thought I would hit her, didn't she? The only time I had ever even hit bluestreak, was a quick smack to the aft when I caught him trying to steal something as a youngling, and that only once.

I sighed softly and led her down the hallways, keeping silent as we moved bast the humans area and into Cybertronian 'territory'. I was quiet still as we walked through the first three hallways and into the fourth that held the officers quarters.

I stalked down the hallway, the femling following behind silently. I pivoted to stand directly in front of the last door on the right, my personal quarters. Lifting up my servo I pressed a few buttons and placed it on the pad for recognition.

"The code is four-six-six-five-zero-nine (46-65-09) if you ever need to get in and I am not here." She nodded quietly, looking away. I frowned and breathed air out through my olfactory vents. The automated voice of our security system S.A.R.I (Security Automated Response Initiate.)

It was our first Earth security system designed by Wheeljack, and until Redalert showed up- if he ever did- it would be what we would stick with. I was severely hoping that Redalert would show up soon, we needed our security chief, he was the best at what he did even if he was a bit...paranoid.

I waited for the femme, Autumn I reminded myself, to walk into the room first. I followed after her calmly, watching her slink in nervously. A part of me found the sight of her jumping at noises and cautiously investigating everything, to be quite...adorable.

She reminded me of the pet cyber kitten that Jazz brought home one time. Funny, the cyber cat was a femme as well; and if I remember correctly the cyber cat had the same skittish personality as Autumn does.

I leaned back against the wall, carefully arranging my door wings so that I wouldn't harm them. Crossing my arms I studied her movements, and responses. I watched her slowly investigate my berth room and then slink off to investigate the guest room, which would now be hers.

Sighing, I pulled a data-pad from my chassis and looked over the list of things that Ratchet had given me. Things he had found wrong with her processor so that I would know what to look for.

It was a long list, much to my dismay. The poor thing has had a very rough past indeed. I found it it disturbing that her sire treated her in such a manner. Back on Cybertron younglings and sparklings were pampered and treated with respect, given love.

Yes they were disciplined still, but they knew they were cared about. It was something that this little one had never experienced. My servo clenched on the pad, the sound of pede steps entering the room had me looking up.

The femme seemed to be studying me, observing. I calmly held still, allowing her to do her thing much like Jazz had done with his cyber cat. After a few moments she slowly slunk over, optics glancing down at the floor instead of at me. I frowned, narrowing my own optics.

"I'm sorry that they're making me bunk with you...I'll try not to be a problem..." I froze, optics wide. My battle computer thrumming to life to sift through her words and the sudden emotions. Only after my battle computer had sifted all of the 'illogical' emotions out and I was left calm and collected did I speak.

"Femme, you are no trouble." I winced inwardly. I had never thought much of it, but at the moment she didn't need someone who sounded and acted like a drone, she needed someone who was more warm and open. I huffed softly, the little femme looking up at me briefly and then away.

How did my talkative brother gain her trust and affections? Was it by being open? I frowned trying to process the best way to go about this, my tactical computers coming online and sorting through the information I had learned as well.

All of the ideas that came up had very little percentile rates of working. I huffed irritably, she immediately looked up with a startled expression. She stared up at me, and I down at her. For the longest time we just stood there like that, after a bit her optics dimmed. My wings twitched slightly, feeling the tell tail signs of energy depletion.

"Why don't you get some rest." She looked up at me quietly before nodding and slinking off to her new berth room. As soon as she was gone I let out a quiet groan and stalked over to the couch.

Sitting down gracefully I flicked my wings, letting them relax now that there was no one to read them. I looked back down at the data pad, reading Ratchets report. I had read the brief profile on her, but an extensive medical report had not been proffered until now.

Designation: Autumn

Age: Youngling

Examination:

A thorough examination of her mental health has been conducted by me. From what I have I have seen, both from linking up to her systems and from my Processor Synthesizer are the following things:

Firewalls were found to be nonexistent

The memory core:

*Long term core: severely damaged

*Short term core: corrupted.

*I do not know how much of her memory has been deleted, tampered and destroyed.

processors have been tampered with.

Extent of cog. Damage was found to be extensive

Memory Capacity is at 50% I am not sure as of yet, as to what has happened to the other half.

Stability of coding protocols is functioning at 40% working capacity. 13% of that is working efficiently.

Basic Subroutines are damaged, but not unfixable.

internal software is all corrupted and tampered. 30% remains undamaged.

Internal com links have been damaged, those will have to be fixed immediately.

Transformation cog is at 100% working capacity.

Core processors have been severely tampered.

Detection of an unknown programing was found.

*I investigated this unknown programming and found it to be a Slave Gestalt programming. The same thing as Soundwave has, similar to blaster's as well. However, Blaster's gestalt programming is a creator gestalt instead of slave gestalt.

I sighed heavily and reread the report. Leaning forward I placed the data pad down on the table and rested my rotary mid arm joints (elbows) on my thigh plating. For once in my life, I was actually contemplating on the one thing mechs usually did: 'what would Jazz do?'

I shook my helm with a snort, thinking about it. I honestly didn't know. Jazz was the best when it came to the femmes and little ones. His upbeat personality mixed with his 'trusting' aura made him a magnet for those two groups. Even most mechs liked him, very few didn't.

.:Prowl to Jazz.:.

.:Jazz 'ere. W'a ya need Prowler?:. I scowled, but decided to let this one pass. I don't know why I bothered telling him to not do that, once Jazz gave you a nickname you couldn't shake it. In short? You were fragged.

.:I...need your help.:. It was quiet for half a breem, when Jazz spoke again his voice was serious.

.:Ya don' usually ask fo' 'elp. W'a ya need, jus' name I'.:.

.:-sigh- I admit, it is about the femme. I am not quite sure as of what I should do.:.

.:Is s'e 'echa'gen?:.

.:I believe so.:.

.:Gi'e me a nanoclick. Ah'll be 'ig't de'e. Jazz ou'.:.

I sat in silence, wondering if I did the right thing by asking for Jazz's help. I then mentally admonished myself. Jazz is my best friend. if there was any bot I trusted with my whole spark it would be him.

After a moment I felt a 'ping' within my internal sensors. Someone was at the door. Standing I silently stalked to the doorway, but I paused. Pulling my acid pellet gun out by instinct. Opening the door I cautiously peered out to see Jazz.

"'Elax Prowler. Ah ain' na con. Ya can pu' da wea'on away." I huffed and put it back in subspace.

"One can never be too cautious, especially when they have a young spark to guard." Jazz nodded and offered me a lop sided grin when I moved out of the way to allow him in.

"True that." I smiled faintly. Jazz only ever lost his accent in the presence of those he trusted. It always sent a pang of honor through me when I heard him drop that accent, a deeper sense of humbleness always pulsated through me when he took off his visor.

After all, you didn't just expose yourself to someone you didn't trust. I moved to press the security key that would lock my quarters and secure it so that no one could get in or hear what happened within. I nodded to the couch, silently telling Jazz to make himself at home.

Jazz grinned and sauntered over, his deep blue optics shining in the low lighting of my quarters. His optics, unlike his ever changing mysterious visor coloration, were a deep azure. He leaned back on one side of the couch, pedes placed on the table top.

"So what's going on Prowler." I sighed through my olfactory vents, I seemed to be doing that a lot lately. I sat down beside him and pushed the data-pad towards him.

"See for yourself." I could see his curious expression, optics intense as he leaned forward to retrieve the pad. Clawed digits holding the data-pad gently, as if afraid it would break into a thousand pieces. I could see his grim expression, concern marring his usually friendly features.

"So what does she remember?" I glanced over again to see him looking at me. Anger at the cons quite clear on his face, his engine growling softly in his chassis. I frowned and looked down thoughtfully, my wings flicking.

"From what I could see she doesn't seem to remember to much of what has happened. I know she remembers you, she remembers my siblings and I-only barely- but most everything else has been wiped from her processors."

A soft sigh reverberated from my long time friend, His optics were dark, a heavy aura radiating off of him.

"So she only remembers those who had a significant impact on her." I nodded silently, optics intense. Jazz shifted, placing his pedes back on the floor and folding his arms over his chassis.

"I would say just be patient. Things like this...they don't heal over a lunar cycle. Sometimes they don't heal at all. If that's the case then you'll just have to be supportive. You know that I'm always here for you as well, I always have been."

I smiled faintly, Jazz is a good mech. One of a kind. I nodded in understanding, flicking my wings yet again.

"That's what I figured, but I thought that perhaps you would be able to approach her better than I. Pit knows my battle computer and strategy processors couldn't think of anything that had a good percentage rate of working."

"Prowler, prowler, prowler. The femling ain't some statistic you can include in a machine. She is a living, sentient, being. She could react in multiple ways, different outcomes could come forth. Don't be all logical about this."

Here my millennium old friend leaned forward. Optics glowing brightly, clawed servo raising up to press a sharp digit gently against my chassis.

"Follow ya spark. I'll help if I can of course, but this is something you've got to figure out for yourself." I was silently, thinking over his words. Don't be logical? But how could I not be logical? It was all I had ever known.

I shook my helm feeling that familiar itching feeling of my processors overloading. Jazz placed his servo on my shoulder in concern as I closed my optics tightly, trying desperately not to glitch.

"1,072,432 divided by the square root of 74." My battle processors automatically responded to the numbers, cycling through it easily. The pressure lessened leaving me feeling exhausted but much calmer. I finally unshuttered my optics and looked at my friend.

"Thank-you." I shook my helm, the rest of the fog lifting. Jazz grinned and nodded before suddenly stilling. He tilted his helm toward the rooms. I looked at him curiously as he stood up and on stealthy pedes moved to the guest room. I followed behind him, creeping silently.

Autumn was curled up in a ball, her wings twitching and flicking. Faint keens leaving her as she curled into a tighter ball. Night terrors...Sorrow welled up in my spark. A youngling, no less a femme, shouldn't be suffering at the servos of creators and cons.

Even if it was only in her recharge, but her fears had something to base off of. And that made me all the more angry. Jazz slunk in, quietly. I almost stopped him. Almost. However, I was curious as to what he was going to do.

He crept closer to the berth and slowly sat down beside my charge, his clawed digits stroking across her trembling wings. I picked up on an ancient Cybertronian lullaby drifting through the air. Within moments her tiny frame relaxed; keens and trembles shifting into contented purring and relaxation.

Jazz slowly stood and crept back out, glancing up at me he grinned. I merely smirked and shook my helm. How Jazz got so good at random things, I would never know. He just always seemed to know what to do in every situation. Of course, spec bots had to be flexible.

"How did you do that?" I asked curiously. Jazz looked back at me and grinned. Denta flashing in the light, soft laughter rumbling through my quarters.

"If I told you then I would have to offline you." I rolled my optics and smirked at his words, they were always his excuse.

"What ever you say Jazz." He grinned and stretched out his frame. Soft hisses and pops echoing from his joints.

"Get some recharge Jazz, I shall contact you tomorrow." Jazz nodded and let his visor slip back in place.

"Su'e! Ah'll see ya nex' sola' cycle Prowler." I nodded and walked him to the door. Watching him as he stealthily stalked down the hallway, a 'swagger' like gate in his steps. I rolled my optics. His age old saying made me chuckle as I closed the door. 'Do it with style, or don't bother doing it at all'.

Checking on the femme I made sure she was in recharge before heading to my room. It was right beside hers, so I would hear if she had another night terror or needed me. Still, I couldn't help but to worry about her.

The image of Jazz crouched beside her berth, crooning to her and stroking her wings entered my processor. He would make a good creator...and why the frag am I thinking about that? Rolling my optics sky wards I lay down on my berth, resting onto my abdomen and holding my wings in the air. Tomorrow I would figure out what to do. Tomorrow I would think over everything. Tonight I would recharge and know that the femme that had captured my sibling's spark was safe. Tomorrow...

AN:

So what do ya'll think? I do believe that I have answered a majority of the questions sent my way and thanks to Khalthar and Autobot Aftershock I have a few more ideas to keep the story from getting to terribly boring. ^^

I've finally gotten to the point I've wanted as well! She now has a guardian-charge relationship with Prowl...well it's going to grow into that at least. ^^

Oh no! She's lost a lot of her memories! What's going to happen? Why does she have that Slave Gestalt programming? Why am I asking all these question? -laughs- ^^' Sorry I'm being weird.

Anyways, as always: Review, ideas, or you just wanna chat? Message me, all are welcome! ^_^

~D.R. Out