Hello Dear Readers! Thank you for all the support over the past few weeks!

I finally managed to finish another chapter for you guys. I must have re-written this two or three times.

Thank you to all my wonderful reviewers, including those I forgot to mention last time: VoosGuest, (Guestx3), Akari. , KayleeChiara, guadadiminguez4, KEZZ 1, SkyenhaMarisa, Vanilla Skittles, Imparting Abyss, Spoffen, annd .7.

I also wanted to let you know that I have given permission to one of the readers, who I will referr to as mary123ciel, to translate Freedom into Spanish and upload it to watpad. If Spanish is an easier language for you, I encourage you to check it out. She should be making the first post soon. I am really happy to have such great readers!

Now, on to the story!

Chapter 35

Erin sketched diligently on the large sketch pad. It was a good way to pass the time. She had been avoiding the twins over the past couple of days. They all had been given light duties and no training in order to recuperate from the latest battle. Erin's stunts had also caused her body to feel out of alignment so she was receiving PT every other day.

As soon as they had gotten off the plane after their last mission, the twins were swept away to stand vigil for Wheeljack. Ever since then, she had stayed clear of them, in part because she didn't know how to deal with those in grief, and also in hopes that they would eventually lay to rest the subject of the infiltrator. So, during her free time, she stayed in her room to draw.

Her skills had been improving. She was already pretty good at drawing, but she had a goal in mind. Sunstreaker had told her that there was a difference between drawing at creating art. That was exactly what she planned on figuring out.

She'd done research too. Most of the articles were crap, discussing how pictures can have emotion. She decided to test a few theories out herself. She'd found famous sketched drawings and done her best to recreate them. While beautiful, she didn't see what was so special about it, besides a higher level of skill.

Eventually, she started drawing things for herself with 'art' in mind. But everything just looked like a normal drawing. There was one piece which she was proud of, though. It didn't display any more skill than her others, but seeing it made her feel somewhat happy. It was a close image of Sunstreaker's and Sideswipe's faces. Victorious grins adorned their faceplates, as if they had just won a difficult battle. The drawing was worth keeping.

Yet, after all of that, she still didn't get art.

She pulled out a different piece she had made a while before. It was her colored drawing on Sunstreaker, surrounded by sunflowers. It was another of her favorites. Since creating it, she had added a caption, "Sociopathic Sunflower". That was mostly to amuse Prowl, whom she always believed was monitoring whatever she does or sees on the data pad. Though it was somewhat embarrassing to imagine Prowl looking at the numerous pictures she'd drawn of the twins. Of course, she included many of the mechs in other drawings, those were mostly comics and not nearly as detailed. She stared hard at the picture. Perhaps she could add something. Choosing the color yellow, she added a couple marks in the optics to suggest some kind of reflection, perhaps the flowers. The color looked nice. She added a little more, and soon, the optics were entirely yellow. She added some white for highlights. Looking down at the image, she smiled. Sunstreaker had only ever shown her images of him wearing a visor, covering his once yellow optics. Perhaps that's what he would look like if he ever decided to change them back.

Something else about the piece felt off, however. The optics almost blended in with the color of his armor. Choosing another color, Erin began the meticulous process of recoloring Sunstreaker's entire frame. The only color flashier than his already vibrant yellow, was a showstopping gold, which contrasted beautifully with his other black features. Liking what she saw, she saved a copy of the image and set down her data pad. That was enough drawing for one day.

Erin hopped out of her bunk and grabbed her shower caddy. She would always have the showers to herself at that late hour. The only other people who lived on the first floor were a few support staff, and they woke far earlier than most soldiers so they would be deep asleep already. The base was mostly quiet in the days following the battle with Mech and the decepticons. While she knew all the men who had perished, she was never particularly close to any so life went on normally for her.

Erin had to admit, she was living in a pretty acceptable condition, better than she had been in before joining the military. There was just enough solitude to let her clear her head. Most of the men were too intimidated to approach her, so she was left in peace. On occasion, Sunstreaker's presence may have explained that as well. Of course, being in a group of men with fragile egos, Erin had heard whispers of various rumors spread about her. Some said she wasn't as strong as she seemed and everyone she sparred with was too chivalrous to go hard on her. Heh, like Sunstreaker would do that. Other more salacious rumors about her sleeping with the command staff for perks like better housing or even getting on Team Prime. Other men devolved into trolls, calling her a slut or bimbo. Erin never paid much mind to them. Of course, it hurt to hear these things, she wasn't made of stone after all, but knowing she could kick any of their asses at any moment was enough solace for her.

Just as expected, there was no one in the bathroom. Erin approached her favorite shower stall, the second one from the back wall. That shower head had been recently replaced after the old one rusted off. The spray was far more even and soothing.

Just before she stepped into the stall, she heard the door open and close behind her. Out of habit, she turned to see who had joined her, at the very least to make sure Franky hadn't followed her in again. Instead, she saw Adam.

"Oh, hey Adam. What are you doing here?" Erin asked conversationally. But before the words could leave her lips, a sensation of danger flooded her mind. She saw he wasn't holding any shower supplies and it was odd for him to be using that particular bathroom. She was, however, tipped off to the fact that something was wrong by the way he was looking at her.

Adam usually hid in the background of any given situation. Even with platinum blond hair and a well-toned physique, he would go mostly unnoticed, sitting out of view and simply observing. Erin, while eating most of her meals in his presence, had only ever heard him say a handful of sentences. But something about him was different this time. Erin's focus was hyper aware of every movement, every breath he took. His usually passive face was hardened, eyes dark. Something was definitely wrong.

Instinctively, Erin set down her caddy and towel, eyes darting around the bathroom, mapping her terrain. They only thing he was holding was a standard jacket. It was odd, since he was already wearing one.

He held the sleeves of the second jacket apart, putting in on display. Erin noticed the name on it.

'Brook'

He slowly stepped forward to her. Alarms were flaring off in Erin's head.

Then, he spoke, voice filled with more emotion she had ever heard come from the man, "I'm sorry."

An alert pulled Prowl from recharge. His battle-ready processor quickly deciphered his situation. He wasn't in his berth, that was obvious, his berth room was always dark, and this one had intermittent blinking lights. Small red and yellow dots glowed, slightly lightening the electronics they were attached to. As Prowl's optics fully onlined, he could clearly see the music players, television, and stereo systems.

Prowl strained his back, which was leaning against a wall at the head of the berth. Considering how often he had fallen into recharge at his desk, sitting up like that was neither unfamiliar or too uncomfortable.

A quick glance down reminded Prowl of exactly what happened. There, wrapped around his waist, was his friend.

The day before, Prowl had been looking for Jazz. He wanted to discuss one of the suspects, Adam Walker. Jazz had already profiled him but the SIC wanted to ask for additional details. It took a while to find him, but Ratchet finally told Prowl that he had seen Jazz heading towards the city scape.

There were no drills going on so the SIC had a sour feeling over the purpose behind Jazz's trip. When he got there, he saw his friend standing in the middle of the charred street. A lot of damage was done to the space during the various training exercises that occurred there, but 64.2% of it held painful memories for the smaller 'bot.

Jazz's helm was low as he stared aimlessly around. Prowl approached with caution, unsure over the mental state of his friend at the moment. The dampeners had malfunctioned before, it was not unreasonable to suspect that might occur again.

When he got within audio range, Jazz looked up, tired optics meeting Prowl's concerned ones.

"Jazz, are you alright?" Prowl questioned, though they both knew the underlying meaning. 'Are you in control?'

"Yeah." Jazz managed to say, "Just remembering."

"It was not your fault. Besides, no one was hurt."

"But it was my fault. 'Cause it was me. And everyone knows it." Jazz shot back.

"Jazz, everyone trusts you. Even the humans have moved on." Taking a chance, Prowl approached the mech and placed a comforting servo on his shoulder plate. "And it wasn't you. It was that allspark fragment. No one could have predicted what it would have done to you."

"What if I lose control again?" he spat, "Ratchet said it himself, the dampeners are only temporary. With them I'm an invalid, unable to heal. Without them, I'm… this." A silver servo jerked up and pointed to the destruction before them. "I could do this again."

"If it happens, I will be there, like last time." Prowl promised.

The SIC remembered every detail of the day they use the allspark to bring back his close friend. It was within an hour of Jazz waking from being offlined that he went on the attack. Something in the allspark had corrupted him, making him crave destruction. It took most of the day to coral him into a safe place, but the damage had been done. The cityscape, once a place for civilians to shop and live, had been reduced to rubble, only suitable as a training ground. In the end, Jazz was left fearful over the next time he would lose control to the power of the ancient technology which breathed new life into him.

But that mattered little to Prowl, the fact that he was online was enough for the SIC. He'd lost too many loved ones to the war, he couldn't lose his best friend as well.

So Prowl felt seeping contentness as he looked down at the mech, calmly recharging at his hip. Then, the alert once again pinged. After his moment of grogginess faded, the mech recognized the data alarm he had Sideswipe set months before. Data with code similar to what the infiltrator used had been transmitted. The odd part was where it had been sent to.

Prowl shook Jazz awake as he pulled out his data pad. The warning had been right, the information packet had been sent directly to his data pad. He wanted to have Sideswipe scan it for any viruses but the package opened itself.

Jazz was slowly onlining his optics, but refused to let go of Prowl. "What's wrong?" he mumbled.

Prowl looked at the files in concern. He clearly recognized the code he had yet to crack, a code which seemed to adapt with every interaction from the enemy, but something was odd. For every encrypted file, there was another which seemed to be translated into English.

"It's the infiltrator, I think they sent us a message." His statement seemed to fully wake Jazz who shot up and looked from over Prowl's shoulder.

The files appeared to be on varying topics, individual autobots, the layout of the base, and even energon production. However, it was filled with misinformation. Whomever had gathered it didn't seem capable of proper research. Some of it was correct, but instances such as the weapons some mechs carry didn't actually exist or where not reported. Prowl had added fake data to the shared information between autobots and humans in order to distract the infiltrator, but none of that seemed to be used. As Prowl read on, confusion rolled in his mind. Then, he saw the latest message, one which appeared to be a direct message from the infiltrator.

Dropping the data pad, he jumped out of the berth, calling to Jazz, "We have to go, now!"

The two mechs ran out of the hanger while Prowl sent messages to Optimus Prime, unsure whether he wanted the human command staff to know the infiltrator's motivations and identity before he got his servos on the culprit.

Once he passed the doors leading outside, he transformed and activated his sirens, screeching across the base to the human side and ignoring Jazz's calls for him to slow down and explain.

His scanners met the flashing lights of another vehicle, right where he was headed. An ambulance sat outside the barracks, lights painting the building red and white.

He transformed and ran the last few steps and saw Captain Lennox, appearing distraught. "What happened, Captain?" Prowl addressed the man as his optics graced the scene, though he feared he already knew what caused such a scene. A stretcher was being wheeled to the ambulance, body bag in tow.

"Suicide." The human responded, earning a disappointment, but not surprised, look from Prowl.

"Who?" the word left his vocalizer breathlessly and he wasn't sure whether the Captain would even hear him.

"Specialist Adam Walker."

Prowl watched as the remains were loaded into the ambulance. In his processor, he read the letter over and over again. One the man has specifically addressed to him.

'Officer Prowl,

As much as I've enjoyed this little game, I've decided to put an end to the play for good. Thought you might want a little hint in what you've missed. Beware, Division is relentless.'

The mech's spark burned with indignation. The culprit was gone. But the threat remained. And the cocky bastard brought victory with him to the pit. And who was Division?

"Prowl?" Jazz's voice pulled him through the fog of his own thoughts. "Do you know what happened?"

The black and white mech has to restrain the disgust audible in his private comm. :Specialist Walker left me a parting message, along with copies of all his illicit messages transmitted to outside the base.:

His friend's optics widened in shock, before a cool demeanor took over. :So it was him?: he practically growled.

Turning to Lennox, Prowl straightened himself. Captain, I believe Specialist Walker was engaging in treasonous acts. He sent me a confession prior to taking his own life. I recommend an immediate inspection of his quarters. That's what he should have said. This chapter would be done. They'd find contraband and he'd file a report. They would keep an optic out for any more moves. Instead, he turned away silently.

His processor started to feel hot as he analyzed every sign. All things pointed to Walker, and if he'd only been more prompt, less fearful of losing his target, then he could have caught the spy alive. Instead, their greater enemy would be on high alert, and Prowl still did not know what their end goal was.

"Prowl?"

The mech started, looking down at the small human that called him.

"Specialist Brook?"

The femme's eyes were wide, worry marking her features. "What happened?" she asked, breathless from what appeared to be her regular run.

What was he supposed to tell her? That a fellow soldier fell victim to suicide, or the man whom has committed the very acts Prowl accused her of was no longer a threat? Instead, he stared blankly at her.

Jazz, noticing his pause, stepped in. "Unfortunately, Specialist Adam Walker has taken his own life. I'm sorry," he added, "I know you two were close."

The femme's shoulders dropped, her mouth agape in shock. Realizing who her company was, she roughly squared herself away. "If you'll excuse me." Her voice cracked as she gave a hasty salute.

Prowl nodded to her, effectively dismissing the femme to mourn. She quickly turned on her heels and, making sure not to look near the ambulance- headed around for the back entrance to the barracks.

Without another thought, Prowl walked towards the other side of the island, staring only at the ground as he fumbled over how he would make his report. Jazz remained in his shadow the entire time, optics narrowed and calculating.

Erin sat roughly on her bed, the tough springs shaking her body for a moment. She sighed, lethargy encompassing her body. Her wrist was swollen and aching. She'd have to stumble during training the next day to have witnesses to her injury. She couldn't leave anything to chance.

Turning off the lights to her room, in the blackness, she could still see the image of Adam, tongue sticking out awkwardly as the jacket around his throat ebbed away at his life. She had been careful to leave no evidence of a struggle, also avoiding any obvious bruising on either of their bodies. The only mistake she made had been when Adam used his greater weight to knock her down. The sprain in her arm was a small price to pay, though.

After the exhausting scuffle, managing to pull the man's jacket off his own body to use as a noose, she had to haul his dead weight up to the shower head, and tie it as if her hands were shaking with fear of death. The stool, helpfully placed in the corner of the bathroom, was the final prop she required.

Quickly, the woman had to slip away before anyone could connect her to the scene. There was little time to plant all evidence in Adam's room. But she managed to rub a hole in his mattress until it looked worn, hiding two flash drives in there. Then, she went for a run, starting out quick to get as much distance as possible, then slowly jogging by the Lennox house, where she greeted Ironhide and Sarah. In the end, all her efforts appeared to end in success.

After finally slipping Prowl's watchful optic, she knew it was far too soon to make her next report. But she felt grim satisfaction knowing that her latest task was complete. And perhaps, with Adam taking the hit for her, she could live under the guise of 'Erin Brook' for just a little longer.