Orion later learned that the only reason he wasn't grounded for the rest of his functioning days was because of his injuries. Not just the sympathy factor - though Prime admitted that punishing Orion after he'd already been shot in the back by a Decepticon sympathizer felt too much like kicking him while he was down - but because Prime and Elita figured that being berth-ridden for a couple decacycles while he underwent repairs was pretty much the equivalent of a thorough grounding.

And honestly, Orion couldn't help but agree. Oh, it had been almost enjoyable for the first few days - his parents, brother, and friends had all fussed over him, and being under doctor's orders to stay prone meant he was excused from his usual chores. But laying in bed bingeing on entertainment feeds and playing video games had long since worn thin, and his wings were twitching with impatience to be up and about.

At least he had Caliber and his friends to alleviate his boredom somewhat. He was sure he would have driven himself (and his parents) insane had he had to go through this alone.

"And how's our favorite patient today?" Zinc asked as Caliber led her into the bedroom.

"Going stir-crazy is how," Orion replied, twitching his wings. "I still don't understand why they can't just weld everything together and be done with it."

"Because you can't just weld shredded wiring back together, you doofus," Caliber retorted, lightly nudging his shoulder. "It has to be carefully spliced back together, or pulled out and completely rewired if the damage is bad enough. And this is your spinal array, not just a regular wire - it's practically a power cable. They have to be even more careful with it."

Zinc smirked. "So there, flyboy. You heard it right from the medical student."

"I haven't even put my application in yet," Caliber insisted. "Though that's all just basic stuff that Orion should have picked up from our science classes."

"I'm not the one who wants to be a doctor," Orion replied. "I haven't missed anything, have I? Any fun shenanigans?"

"Not really," Zinc replied with a shrug. "We've all been too worried about you and Cal to do our usual outings to Swerve's or the holotheater, to be honest. Alpine got his upgrade, but that's about it."

"Oh, nice! What's he turn into?"

"Some big sports utility vehicle. I think Mirage was a bit disappointed - he wanted him to pick something classy and elegant - but he's supportive at least. Hound wants to take him mudding as soon as he's settled into his adult frame."

"Eww… I honestly worry about Alpine's dad. Loving dirt and mud that much isn't healthy."

"Hey, don't knock driving in the dirt," Zinc laughed. "It's not like getting your fenders muddy is gonna kill you."

"I don't have fenders," Orion shot back. "How's everyone else? Paddles, Soar, Rhap, Glory?"

"They're fine," Zinc said quickly - quickly enough to make Orion raise an optic ridge and turn to Caliber.

"There's been some drama," Caliber admitted.

"Cal, you promised not to tell him!" Zinc huffed.

"He's my brother, I don't like hiding things from him," Caliber protested.

"Well, it's not like it's any of his business anyhow!"

"What's not my business?" Orion demanded, curiosity immediately piqued. "C'mon, don't leave me in the dark. I deserve to know all the juicy gossip."

Zinc sighed. "Fine, since Caliber went and blew it." She shot the heli-former a glower, but Caliber just shrugged in response, and she sighed and went on. "Glory's in deep with her parents. Grounded for the next millennium, if not longer."

Orion's jaw dropped. "You're kidding me."

"Nope," Zinc replied. "Her uncles caught her sneaking out of her apartment to go see a boyfriend. They took her home and her parents told her she was forbidden to see him again. It caused a huge blow-up, from what I hear. A LOT of screaming."

"Ouch," Orion winced. "Though I didn't think her parents were the types to raise a fuss about her having a lover. Who's the lucky mech?"

At that, Caliber actually cracked a smile. "You ready for this? Blitzwing."

Orion rebooted his optics, stunned. "Blitzwing? As in the infamous first triple-changer? The mech with one of the highest kill counts in the entire Decepticon army? THAT Blitzwing?"

"Like there's another Blitzwing or two running around," Zinc muttered. "Yes, that Blitzwing. Apparently Glory started writing him as some kind of inmate-rehabilitation program, and it grew into something a LOT closer than just being a penpal. She's been sneaking out to visit him in prison - and even better or worse depending on how you look at it, her cousins have been helping her. Zephyr and Mistral are in trouble too, though not as much as Glory."

"...wow," Orion murmured. "And she didn't even tell any of us about this?"

Zinc shuffled her feet, looking away, and Orion guffawed. "You knew! You sneaky groundpounder, you knew Glory was sneaking off to snuggle her mech-toy in prison! How long have you been hiding THIS from all of us, huh?"

"Shut up," she growled. "Glory didn't want it blabbed to everyone. She knew it was going to cause problems."

"She's sneaking off to cuddle with a mech who's not only in prison but as old as her parents," Caliber countered. "Of course it's going to cause problems. She's lucky she's only grounded, not stripped of her wings."

"Ugh… of COURSE you'd take her parents' side," Zinc muttered, throwing her hands up in exasperation. "She loves him! And he loves her back, from everything I've seen and heard! It's not like he's some kind of creep!"

"Um, what part of 'as old as her parents' doesn't make it creepy?" Caliber insisted.

Orion laughed heartily, slapping the berth with one hand. "Oh my Primus, I really DID miss some juicy drama. Tell Glory to tell Blitzwing hi for me, all right?"

"You fraggers are impossible," Zinc grumbled. "Don't worry, Glory'll pass that along. Being grounded isn't going to stop her from sneaking out if she puts her CPU to it."

"And if she has a little help from a certain groundpounder," Orion replied, shuttering one optic in a wink.

"I admit to nothing," Zinc retorted, and lightly socked his shoulder. "You take care of yourself, all right? Don't go trying to walk around and tear your repairs open again."

"I only did that once," Orion retorted.

"And had both Mom and Ratchet threaten to weld you to the berth if it happened again," Caliber noted. "Want me to walk you out, Zinc?"

"I'm good. Take care of him, Caliber. Don't be afraid to sit on him if you have to." And she walked out.

Orion shook his head. "I'm gone for a little while and things get exciting without me. Glory and Blitzwing, holy frag… I never saw THAT coming."

"I don't think any of us did," Caliber admitted. "Glory always liked to stir things up, but this is pretty extreme even for her."

"Eh… you can't predict love, I guess. Or the lengths mechs'll go to for it." He gave Caliber a more serious look. "How are you holding up?"

"All right, I guess." Caliber sat down by Orion's berth, looking down at his hands. "Side's stopped hurting. Ratchet did a good job."

Orion frowned, then reached over and took one of his hands. "I wasn't talking about where you got shot. How are you holding up with… everything else?"

Caliber didn't look up, but his optics darkened at the question. "I don't know how to answer that. There's just… so much to process."

Orion shrugged. "You don't have to talk about it… but if you want to, I'm not going anywhere."

Caliber snorted. "I guess that's true. Mom… Elita…"

"You can call her Mom. I'm not gonna get jealous or anything. Besides, I think it's safe to say that she's more of a parent to you than the ugly purple guy was."

Caliber made a noise deep in his chest that sounded like the beginning of a laugh. "Mom took me to see a therapist a few days ago. It's going to be a regular thing for awhile. Hopefully it'll help me work through all this stuff."

"Is it helping?"

"I've only been there once… but I think it'll help. There's a lot to unpack, he said - not just with being kidnapped by my own creator, but my whole life." He ex-vented a deep sigh. "Maybe I should have been seeing one all along. Growing up with my father in prison isn't normal, after all."

"I don't think anyone's life is normal… though I admit, yours is less normal than mine."

"I suppose that's true." He leaned back in his chair, shuttering his optics. "I… I knew, when I was young, that my carrier was pretty cold. He never hurt me physically, but he wasn't affectionate. But I wanted to hope he still cared about me in some way, even if he kept it hidden. Knowing he just saw me as a tool… as something to further the Decepticon cause, whatever that cause is… it hurts. And I feel so confused about all this - I didn't love him, and I hate what he did to you and to me… but it still hurts, knowing he's dead for sure. Knowing I never really got to know him as a parent, and not just someone who contributed to my programming and carried my spark."

Orion had no idea what to say in response, and so just squeezed his hand. Caliber squeezed back, seeming to take comfort from the gesture, and went on.

"And I'm worried, to be honest. I know the Autobots expected me to follow in my father's footsteps… but I had no idea the Decepticons expected it too. Not just expected it, but wanted it. And having them cheer me on and hail me as some kind of second coming of Megatron… it scared me, Orion. It scared me right down to my struts."

"Hey… I'm not your therapist, bro, but try not to worry so much. Shockwave's weirdo lackeys may have wanted you to be Megatron Jr., but most of the Decepticons just want to live in peace and be left alone. You're just Caliber to them. Okay?"

Caliber sighed again. "I hope you're right. I just hope the Council doesn't decide to get involved again. If they were worried about me before all this went down, I can't imagine THIS makes them happy. They're probably about to storm in and demand I put on the Autobot sigil right in front of them."

"They pull THAT stunt and I'll take that sigil and make them eat it," Orion retorted. "Or just pummel the slag out of them."

"You can't move your legs," Caliber retorted. "What are you gonna do, drag yourself across the room and bite their knees?"

Orion laughed. "There's my brother." He patted his arm. "You take care of yourself, okay? Not gonna be able to watch your back for a bit."

"I know," Caliber replied. "Do you want to play a game or something? Paddles dropped off the new Smash Brothers."

"Only if you feel like getting your aft stomped."

Caliber chuckled and went to set up the game. Orion settled back, picking up a controller. Hopefully a few rounds of a fighting game would ease some of his restlessness… and help Caliber take his CPU off everything weighing down so heavily on him. Caliber was bending over backwards trying to look after him - he wanted to return the favor, even in a small way like this.

"Caliber, you got a package."

Caliber glanced up from his book, feeling his spark leap in his chest. "Oh… it's here already?"

"I take it you were expecting it," Prime noted, handing the heavy envelope to him. "Anything special? Another book?"

"No… didn't you look at the return address?"

"It was addressed to you, Caliber. I respect your privacy by not prying into these things."

Caliber frowned. "What if I was getting books or pamphlets from some pro-Functionalist group or something? Wouldn't you want to screen the mail to keep me or Orion from getting into trouble?"

"I admit we did some screening when you received packages as children… but you and Orion are adults now. You can make your own decisions. And Caliber… look at what you're reading and tell me you would be ordering pro-Functionalist material."

He glanced down at the book in his hands - Towards Peace. He'd lost it when Tarn had snatched it in the alley, but it had turned up mysteriously on their doorstep a few days after his and Orion's rescue. He suspected Ravage had a hand in its return, and while the book might be inconsequential in the grand scheme of things, he'd been incredibly glad to see it again. It was a reminder, however small, that life went on as normal despite the terrible events of that day.

"That's true," Caliber admitted. "I… I didn't realize Cybertron was that bad before the war. That mechs were kept trapped according to their alt mode like that. That they never had the opportunity to change if they wanted to be something else, or even learn new skills. It was awful… why would someone fight to KEEP that in place?"

Prime sighed and sat down across from Caliber, hands folded atop the table. "You're asking what I found so objectionable about your father's beliefs that I committed myself to a war against him."

Caliber cringed. "I didn't mean to make it sound like that…"

"It's okay," Prime assured him. "And believe it or not, despite the fact that your father and I led opposing armies for so long, I have never truly hated him. We even had some of the same goals - only very different means of accomplishing those goals. I believed our culture and government could be reformed from within, whereas he believed the only way to fix a broken system was to destroy it and rebuild from the ground up."

"But it didn't work out that way. I mean… we have a better Cybertron now. But it took so much destruction to get here… and my father never got to see it for himself. He got what he wanted, in a way, but at such a terrible cost."

Prime gazed at Caliber, his optics dimmed with sadness. "I wish it could have been otherwise. Had your father come to me proposing we work together to correct our society's flaws, I would have accepted in a spark pulse. But we've all made our choices… and we have to accept the consequences." He reached forward and rested his hand on Caliber's. "Just know that if anyone ever tries to make you pay for your father's crimes - crimes you had absolutely no hand in - I will step in. You are your own mechanism, and no one has the right to decide that for you. Not me, not your father, not the Council."

Caliber nodded. "Thank you… I needed to hear that."

"You're welcome." Prime withdrew his hand. "Your package…"

"It's from the Iacon Academy," Caliber replied. "I… I went ahead and sent in my application for their medical school. I hope that was okay."

"Why would it not be okay?"

"Well… with Orion still in recovery, I wondered if it might not be the right time…"

Prime chuckled. "Orion's been back on his feet for a decacycle, Caliber. He's just fine. And don't feel you have to put your life on hold for our sake. No one is going to be upset with you for submitting your application."

Caliber relaxed slightly, then looked down at the envelope. "I'm… almost afraid to open it. What if they rejected me?"

"Then at least you will know. And you'll have an opportunity to apply again. Would you prefer to open it in private?"

Caliber shook his head. "Actually… I'd like to open it with the family around. Is Mom here? And Orion?"

Prime touched the side of his helm, then nodded. "They'll be here shortly."

"Shortly" was an understatement - Prime had barely finished his sentence before Orion came charging into the room, optics blazing with excitement.

"It came!" he whooped, slapping Caliber on the back. "It came! That was super fast, what'd it say? Don't leave us in suspense, bro!"

"Someone's looking spry for recovering from spinal surgery," Caliber noted.

"Hey, Ratchet's the best at what he does," Orion quipped.

"Funny, that's not what you told him during your checkup," Prime observed, optics twinkling with humor. "I seem to recall a few remarks about how he was trying to kill you when he delivered injections."

"Hey, nobody likes shots, okay?" Orion replied. "You gonna open that or what, bro?"

"I'm just waiting for Mom," Caliber insisted.

"I'm coming, I'm coming!" Elita called out, hurrying to the table. "I hope it coming back so fast is good news…"

Caliber stared down at the envelope, tanks churning. Did the quick response mean that they'd accepted him immediately instead of considering the decision? Or did it mean they'd rejected him the moment they saw his name on the application? Perhaps the Council had heard of his decision not to take a sigil and ordered the Academy to blacklist him…

"Go on," Elita urged. "Let's see what it says."

Bracing himself, Caliber broke the seal on the plastic envelope and slid the datapad out. He activated it and began to read aloud, trying to suppress a tremor in his voice:

"Caliber of Polyhex,

We are pleased to inform you that your application to the Iacon Academy Medical Program has been accepted…"

Any effort to read on after that point would have been pointless - Orion erupted in a roar of triumph, pumping his fists and performing a ridiculous victory dance as if he'd been the one to receive the acceptance letter. Prime and Elita let out shouts of delight as well, and Elita wrapped her arms around him in a firm hug.

"Congratulations!" Prime told him, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "This is wonderful!"

"Th-thanks," Caliber replied, feeling the tension in his internals finally release as he returned Elita's hug. "I… I was worried…"

"What, they'd reject you because of your dad?" asked Orion. "If they had I'd have gone down there and-"

"You can't solve all of Caliber's problems by threatening to kick everyone's aft," Elita told him.

"What about a stern talking-to?" asked Orion.

"Orion," Prime warned.

"Okay, okay… but this is awesome! I'm so freaking happy for you, bro!"

"We'll have to celebrate this," Prime added. "Drinks at Maccadam's Oilhouse tonight?"

"That sounds great," Caliber replied with a smile. He held the acceptance letter close to his chest, knowing he'd be storing it with the rest of his keepsakes. He was safe… he had his family by his side… and he was taking another step towards realizing his dreams, without the Council hampering his path. For once in his life, everything seemed to be going perfectly.

Prime had promised Thundercracker that he wouldn't interfere with his family again after his first disastrous visit… but the message from Windblade just two days after Caliber's acceptance letter made him change his mind.

Starscream's shown up at our building. Having to hold Skywarp and Glory back from tearing his wings off. We need help NOW.

Prime was heading out the door within seconds of processing said message, pausing only to alert Elita to his whereabouts before tearing down the road. Blast it all, what was Starscream doing out of prison? He couldn't have escaped - surely he would have been alerted if there had been a jailbreak among the Decepticon prisoners. Unless there was something more sinister going on…

He could hear the shouting from almost a block away - not screams of terror, but angry bellowing and outraged insults. Shifting to root mode, he made for the lift and performed a quick weapon check on the way up. He sincerely hoped he would not have to pull his weapon tonight, but Starscream was an unpredictable force, and who knew what his intentions were in harassing his old trine members.

It'll be a last resort, he promised himself. For now, just go in and focus on de-escalating the situation. Thundercracker and Skywarp ARE warriors - they should know how to handle themselves.

He stepped out of the lift and was greeted by a scene of chaos. Starscream faced his former trine-mates with his usual imperious air, arms folded across his chest and a sneer on his faceplates. Skywarp was practically frothing at the mouth as he thrashed against Thundercracker and Windblade's arms, struggling to break free and attack the red-and-white Seeker. Glory was screaming invectives harsh enough to make Prime balk, and only Piston's grip on her arm kept her from joining the fray. Zephyr and Mistral cowered back in the doorway of their apartment, sobbing, and from their confused but frightened expressions Prime guessed that they had no idea what was going on but were terrified to see their parents so angry.

"THIS is the thanks I get for wanting to check on your welfare!" Starscream snapped. "You ungrateful wretches!"

"Frag off, you bastard!" Skywarp roared. "You sold us out to save your own skidplate! Don't pretend you care!"

"Admit it, you'd have done the same in my position!" Starscream retorted. "Especially seeing as you had absolutely no sense and got Thundercracker knocked up in the middle of a war!"

"Shut up!" Skywarp's wings quivered in fury. "Get the frag out of here before I tear your head off!"

"Skywarp, stop this!" Windblade ordered. "You're scaring the girls!"

"You have no business being here!" Thundercracker snapped, tightening his grip on Skywarp's arm. "Leave now!"

"The last I checked, the hallway wasn't your property," Starscream retorted. "I can be here as long as I please-"

A blue hand clamped down on the Seeker's shoulder, and he whirled, mouth open to tell off whoever had dared lay a hand on him. But the words died in his vocalizer as he made optic contact with Optimus Prime.

"That's enough," Prime told him. "Leave them alone. They've been through enough already."

"What's he doing here?" Skywarp demanded, though he sounded more baffled than upset.

"I called him," Windblade replied. "I couldn't think of anyone else to contact who wouldn't escalate the situation."

Skywarp looked like he wanted to argue, but to his credit he kept his mouth shut.

"Skywarp, Thundercracker, why don't you go inside and comfort your sparklings?" Prime urged them. "They're scared and need reassurance from their parents. I'll handle Starscream."

Thundercracker gave him a look of extreme gratitude and steered Skywarp into their apartment. The black Seeker's expression immediately softened, and he bent down to scoop Zephyr up and console her. Thundercracker took up Mistral, a pretty young femme with a pearlescent white paint job, and they ducked inside and shut the door behind them.

"So you just HAD to interfere, didn't you?" Starscream growled, wrenching free of Prime's grip. "You stupid Autobots never know when to leave well enough alone, do you?"

"Sounds like someone else we know, you motherboard-fragging-" began Glory.

"Glory, that's enough," Piston scolded.

"Why are you even here?" Prime demanded. "I wasn't aware they'd released you. And you have no further business with Thundercracker and Skywarp."

"A mech can't catch up with his old teammates?" Starscream asked, his voice sickeningly sweet even as his optics flashed in anger. "Shame they have to hold such grudges. A mech only does what he has to do in times of war, after all…"

"You're failing to answer the question," Prime told him, folding his arms before his chest. "Who released you?"

Starscream gave him an oily smile. "Why, the Autobot Council, of course. A number of Decepticons have been released early - including your precious lover, Glory. I'm sure your family will be delighted…"

Prime frowned, unable to suppress the troubled tremor in his spark. The Council would be far more likely to lengthen prison sentences for Decepticons captured during the final days of the war, not give them an early release. Unless something else was going on…

No. Surely not. But it was looking far more likely…

"What were the terms of your release?" he demanded, knowing already he wasn't going to like the answer.

"Simple enough," Starscream replied. "If we testified against Megatron in his upcoming trial, our own sentences would automatically be changed to time served. Naturally, many of us took them up on that offer…"

"You monster!" Glory screamed, and only Windblade's quick reflexes kept her from springing on Starscream and inflicting serious injury. "You absolute monster!"

Starscream rolled his optics. "How am I a monster for looking out after myself? And I'm a monster, then what does that make your precious Blitzwing? I'm sure he'd LOVE to see your reaction right now." His gaze moved to Prime, and his slimy smile returned. "I'll go… I can tell when I'm not wanted. I'll be seeing you in court, Optimus Prime - I'm sure they're going to want you to testify against Caliber's father. Won't that be delightful to see?"

And the former Decepticon Air Commander strode off, leaving Prime to stare after him, his spark churning with anger and dread.