It was the little things for Prowl that made him stop and stare as he made his way through Polyhex. Six months of being back from the Allspark had done little to quench his wonder at the new Golden Age for his people. Civilians walked or drove about, most of them barely-armed. Buildings had been rebuilt. The streets no longer were more hole than steel. He glanced up at Wolf 359, the star Cybertron now orbited, and marveled at the light shining down on him and the others. He stopped in front of a roadside pub, bought himself a tumbler of high-grade energon and listened for a few minutes at the talk of political elections.

"Hey, Prowl!"

Prowl's head shot up and over. His tactical systems kicked in for a moment, and he reached for his acid-pellet rifle, but he quickly identified the voice. He turned as his old friends Bluestreak, Trailbreaker, Sideswipe and Sunstreaker walked over. His neutral expression softened. "Hey, guys," he said, shaking Bluestreak's proffered hand.

Sunstreaker slapped him on the back. "Good to see you up and about and not moping about Kimia. Where are you off to on this fine Polyhex afternoon?"

Prowl smiled wanly. "I was gonna take a shuttle up to Kimia for my appointment with Rung, then visit Ironhide, Brawn and Ratchet."

Sideswipe leaned over and smacked Sunstreaker upside his head. "Brilliant, bro."

Sunstreaker flinched slightly, but took most of the blow. "Okay, I deserve that one." He looked to Prowl. "Sorry about that. Seriously, how are doing?"

"I'm fine, I think. At least that's what Optimus, Elita, Ultra Magnus, Rung and about a dozen others have been telling me." His gaze drifted as a small group of Autobots walked by, chatting away.

Trailbreaker followed Prowl's line of sight. "Yeah, it's still a little weird to be seeing civilians on Cybertron, but Primus I'm glad it's like this nowadays." He reached out and gently squeezed Prowl's shoulder. "Do you need to talk? Do you need anything from us?"

Prowl placed his hand over Trailbreaker's. "I'm fine, thank you. But I really do have to be going to catch the next shuttle. I'll comm you three later tonight, okay?" And with that, he turned and walked off.

The session with Rung had been mostly the same. They talked about what he had done the past week, how he felt about being used by the Quintessons as a tool of destruction, what his plans were. As usual, Prowl's spirits had been lifted by the session. And as usual, he wandered down to Room 127 of the Kimia Medical Facility, in downtown Iacon. There lay Ironhide, Ratchet, and Brawn, hooked to to a myriad of machines that monitored them and kept their vital functions going.

Prowl looked his friends over. "Hi," he finally said, taking a seat. "Well, the session with Rung went well. We talked about the same things as last time. Not much to fill him in on for the week, and he told me that all the plans I made weren't my fault. That I couldn't have known." His optics drifted down. "I think I'm starting to believe him, if only a little. I still don't know if those damned Quints left some sort of booby trap in my head."

He looked back up. "It's so odd, being here on Cybertron and it being peaceful. And I don't mean some false peace, or a dictatorship. I mean peace. The 'Cons have no way of attacking us here, of getting past our fleet." He paused. "We have a fleet. When did we get a fleet? When did all this happen? Hot Rod became Rodimus Prime for a year, then the Quintessons brought back Optimus Prime and he took back over. Refugees have come back. Vector Sigma's active again and hot spots and this whole thing about merging energies from laser cores and..." He trailed off.

"I'm sorry. It's just so overwhelming sometimes. We got ambushed by Megatron on that Unicron-damned shuttle, then I wake up here. And it's almost all over. And it doesn't feel real. I'm not sure it ever will. The Great War is over, so what do we do with the new Golden Age?"

Noise from behind caught Prowl's attention. He turned as Chromia, Ironhide's Conjunx Endura, walked in. He stood up. "Hi, Chromia. Sorry, I'll be heading out."

Chromia shook her head. "What? No, no. Please stay, Prowl. There's no need for you to leave." She walked up to Ironhide's bed. "I'm sure they'd want you to stay."

Prowl shook his head. "Thank you, Chromia, but I was planning on leaving anyway. I've got some thinking to do." With that, he turned and headed for the door.

Chromia turned back and grabbed Prowl's arm. "It's difficult, I know. Even for us who've lived through it, the changes these past four solar cycles have been immense. And we veterans have all had each other to rely on. Don't try to go it alone, Prowl. You've got friends."

Prowl stood there for a long moment. He turned his head and looked at Chromia over his shoulder. "I know, Chromia. I know. I guess sometimes I forget to bring that file up on occasion." He reached back and briefly grabbed Chromia's forearm. "Thank you." And with that, he left.

"Rung, status report, please."

Rung, the Autobot's head psychiatrist, glanced up from his rereading of the notes he took during Prowl's latest session. A small hologram of Optimus Prime's head and shoulders hovered above his desk. "Hello, Optimus. I've been expecting you." He glanced back down at his notes. "I think he's mostly over any lingering guilt concerning his actions while under the Quintesson's control, but there's still some there. Considering his ordeal, Prowl's made excellent progress and is adjusting, if slowly, to post-War life."

Optimus' head bowed. "I had the same feelings when they used me. As for the changes, yes. It was overwhelming for me, and I had only been dead for a solar cycle. A lot's changed."

Rung nodded. "It was expected. He is a bit confused about all the changes that happened over the past four years, and he's still concerned about there being some lingering shell program or failsafe doomsday device still installed in him." He vented some gas. "As insane as it might sound, the Quintessons using him like that forced them not to tamper with his brain module any more than necessary. They needed it intact and functioning. There's no shell program, no set of hidden instructions or recessed pockets of cosmic rust in his door wings."

Rung paused and looked over his notes once more. "I think he wants to return to duty, to do something other than come here for sessions and visit the others, but those last bits of guilt are holding him back."

Even through the hologram, even through the faceplate, Optimus' expression could be read plain as day. His optics drifted down and narrowed. "The Quintessons will answer for their crimes, I swear by the Matrix and my laser core. They will answer." He looked back up. "Thank you for all you've done to help Prowl, Rung. I'll contact you after his next session."

Rung leaned forward and peered at the image. "There's still a lot of work to do, Optimus. I don't want to rush things with Prowl."

"Neither do I, but I still have the kernel of an idea to help him along. Do you think he'd object to a low-level appointment in Intelligence?"

Rung tapped his fingers on his desk. "I'll run it by him next session." A chime sounded out in the room. "Oh, scrap. I'm sorry, Optimus, but my next appointment is here. I'll talk to you later." He cut the transmission and tapped the intercom. "Come in, please." He stood up as the door slid open and his next patient walked in. "Hello, Roadbuster. How are you?"

Prowl stood in his apartment, a sparse set of rooms on the third floor of a building in downtown Polyhex. His optics glanced to a set of holo-pictures of him and his human friend, Chip Chase, one of the only bits of personality breaking up one of the steel-gray walls. He slowly tore his gaze away from them and focused on a large viewscreen embedded in the wall. For the first time since he had woken up on the Rough and Ready, for the first time since he had learned what the Quintessons had done to him and the others, he activated his tactical analysis subroutines and went over his current situation.

The viewscreen came to life. Prowl inputted a series of numbers into a keypad on the screen. A few seconds later, Trailbreaker appeared on it. "Hey, Prowl! What's up? Are you all right?"

Prowl hesitated. He recalled the conversation with Chromia. "I don't know, Trailbreaker, but I think I could use some company. If you're busy – "

Trailbreaker's head bobbed down for a moment. Other windows opened up and Bluestreak, Sunstreaker and Sideswipe's upper body appeared in them. "Ready to paint the town?" Sunstreaker asked.

Prowl slowly smiled. "Not sure about that, but if you're not busy, could you come over, and perhaps, we could go out, even just to process the code? I think I'd like to see some friends tonight."

The three laughed and cheered. Bluestreak pointed right at him. "That's the spirit, Prowl. We'll be over in a flash!" His window closed, followed by Sunstreaker and Sideswipe.

Trailbreaker's remained open. "Prowl, anything... wrong?"

Prowl shook his head. "Not as much, Trailbreaker. I think I've finally come to the conclusion that I can't get through this alone, but I can get through it with friends." He reached out to cut the connection. "I'll see you in a bit, and thank you."