Congratulations to Simvinele, Sunstarunicorn, xXRetrobotXx, Exactlywhat, Foxbear & Elita-2 for correctly guessing who Prowl will be going on patrol with!

By the way, in regards to the no-win simulation in the previous chapter, in my head it was more of a morality test (save the one important individual or save the many...) as well as a test to see how had it was for them to decide who to sacrifice (if they did it easily, could you really trust them to watch your back? Would you really want someone in command who can sacrifice that many soldiers without struggling with the decision?) It was also a test as to their strength... did they have a mental breakdown or could they remain calm and collected under such a situation; being forced into such a choice. It could also have been a test to see if they were able to think 'outside the box' so to speak. My apologies if this was not clearly enough portrayed to begin with.


Prowl looked up as Jazz entered his quarters. He had been expecting a visit, not just because the mech came by every orn but also because he had not done so the previous orn. Something had changed and, even if he was to be forgotten, he knew Bluestreak would not be and the energon that had been left with him after he had completed the last simulation was almost gone.

Once he realized the pattern in Jazz's visitation had changed, he had started to ration his energon more carefully, ensuring Bluestreak received as much as his young frame required. Even so, they would soon run out and he was sufficiently confident that whatever sensors they had monitoring his quarters were recording exactly how much energon was stored there.

Thus he had been left with no option but to wait, which he had managed with commendable patience, knowing if it came down to it, Bluestreak would get all the energon he had left if more was not provided. Perhaps it was just another test.

He could not help but fear he had failed that last simulation and that his opportunity to integrate into the Autobot forces would be taken away before he had really been given a chance.

But now Jazz was here. Was he here to take him back to a prison cell? Simply to deliver more energon? Or perhaps it was for another scan of his processor.

"Jazz!" Bluestreak leapt to his feet and ran to fling his arms around Jazz's knee. Then, before the saboteur could respond, the youngling was racing back to Prowl, climbing onto the chair the tactician had vacated in order to stand respectfully. Once there, Bluestreak leaned against Prowl, hooking one hand around a convenient armor plate.

"Jazz." Prowl said with much more formal politeness than he truly felt at the moment, pushing aside his dark musing. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Though he could not see them, Prowl had the distinct impression that Jazz's optic ridge cocked at that. Then the silver minibot strode into the room in what Prowl could only call a mosey. Jazz owned the place and his body language proclaimed as much as he leaned against the edge of the desk.

The corner of Jazz's lip plates quirked. "Just wanted ta let ya know the Boss 'Bot has decided its time to send ya on Patrol."

Prowl's engine stuttered, one doorwing flicking slightly. That was not what he had expected the mech to say. It meant he had passed the first stage of their integration process. Was it possible?

"Yes?" He asked cautiously, not really sure what he was asking.

"Yep." Jazz straightened, rubbing his clawed hands together in obvious anticipation that filled Prowl with quiet dread. "You will be accompanying Sunstreaker and Sideswipe."

The floor suddenly felt like it was falling out from underneath him. "The Twins?"

"Oh?" Jazz's helm cocked slightly, though his expression did not change. "You know 'em?"

Prowl released a vent. "I was an enforcer in Praxus before the war." He reminded his former interrogator. "They were rather notorious in the underworld gladiator fights and were general public nuisances."

"Well, the nuisance part hasn't changed."

Prowl eyed the smaller mech. "I arrested them on several occasions."

Jazz actually laughed at that, and it was not a guarded chuckle, but a full, honest sound. "I bet there's a story there."

Then Jazz was serious again, the light behind his optics growing sharper. "Anyhow, too bad for you. They were the only ones willing to take the chance with you."

When Prowl just stared at him, Jazz continued, deadly serious. "So, you wanna keep moving forward? You go out on patrol with the Twins."

It was on the tip of Prowl's glossa to just ask to be taken back to the brig. Vorns locked in a single, tiny cell on survival rations were better than being under the command of the Twins… right? He just could not form the words in his vocalizer. If he was serious about his new commitment…

In spite of every intention not to, Prowl bowed his helm. "As you wish."

Still deep in thought, his optics fell onto the datapad sitting on the desk. After his waking epiphany about his own degraded moral coding, Prowl had revisited the recommendations he had made about Autobot protocols. Sure enough most, but not all, had not been weaknesses at all, but concessions to the very ethics that differentiated them from the Decepticons.

He had, in the intervening orns, deleted the recommendations he had made that fit that category and had reviewed and refined the recommendations that were still appropriate. Not that he ever expected to have the opportunity to present them for consideration.

Jazz, it seemed, had followed his gaze and spoke softly but with steel in his voice. "Ya are expected to follow tha rules as written. Not the way ya might want 'em to be."

Prowl blinked. That was right. Jazz had been reading the datapad when he had come back from the training room that first orn. Doubtless he had seen Prowl's notes. "I have no desire for the regulations to be any different than they are."

Jazz's gaze was unreadable as he flicked a finger toward the datapad. "No?"

Prowl shook his helm, lifting his gaze to the saboteur's. The mech had been in his head once already and was likely to be the one who would be asked to do any other scans Autobot Command might deem necessary. "No. I have come to appreciate the reasons for what I had initially taken as weaknesses. It would be… wrong to alter them."

Bluestreak pressed tighter against him and Prowl rested a hand between his doorwings, though he was not sure who was comforting who.

Jazz just studied him carefully, his expression not revealing anything but an unnerving intensity. "Ya mean that?"

Prowl thought briefly about the steps he was taking to make sure he would not again fail to live up to his original ethical programming. Soon it would be literally impossible. He nodded. "Yes."

Jazz nodded then, his frame relaxing. "Tomorrow then. I'll come get ya at mid-orn."

"Understood." Then Prowl glanced down at Bluestreak. "Who will care for him while I am gone?"

Jazz's armor relaxed even further over his frame. "Ironhide and his sparkmate, Chromia. She's the one who has been takin' care of 'im while you've been with Ironhide."

"Ah. Then that would make her the little black and yellow sparkling's caretaker as well." Prowl realized, able to make more sense of some of Bluestreak's stories.

"Bumblebee." Bluestreak piped up then. "He is really funny and likes to laugh. And his paint is so bright its almost impossible not to be happy when I'm with him. Even though he can't speak properly yet, he is really good at saying what he means. I'm glad there is another youngling on the base who I can play with otherwise it would be very boring…"

Bluestreak trailed off, looking down and Prowl felt his spark lurch. He had not been to the training rooms for over an orn; in that time and Bluestreak had been left entirely in his care. While it might have indicated a level of trust in his ability to care for the youngling, it had also left the little one bereft of his closest friend.

"Jazz." Prowl made a decision, looking back at the saboteur. "When you leave, would it be possible for you to take Bluestreak to…play… with Bumblebee?"

The silver minibot looked surprised. "Won't ya get lonely being in here all orn by yourself?"

Prowl could not stop the small quirk to his lip plates, not fooled into thinking Jazz was truly concerned about him. "I survived an orn in stasis cuffs magnetically bound to an interrogation chair and with fresh injuries. Simple loneliness is hardly a hardship." Prowl shrugged minutely with one doorwing. "Besides, Bluestreak does not deserve another orn without peer interaction."

"Ya mean that too, don't ya?" Jazz asked quietly.

"Of course I do."

Bluestreak lifted the hand that was not grasping Prowl's plating to touch his arm. "I don't mind being a little bored. Not that I'm really that bored because I learn a lot when I talk to you. I don't mind. I don't want to be why you are lonely."

For a moment, Prowl ignored Jazz completely. "Jazz was not seriously implying I would be damaged by spending time alone. If Jazz is willing to take you to Bumblebee, I want you to go."

Bluestreak continued to stare up at him, blue optics searching and then he smiled, doorwings drooping in clear relief and gratitude. "Thank you, Prowl."

Prowl stroked the gray armor under his hand then looked up at Jazz and was somewhat surprised to see the Autobot had the slightly far away look of a mech using his internal communications system. He saw the moment Jazz refocused on him. "Jazz?"

The Head of Autobot Intelligence nodded. "Come on, Bluestreak. Let's go play with Bumblebee."

"Yeah!" Bluestreak started to jump from the chair he was standing on, but he brought himself up short. "Are you sure, Prowl."

"Yes."

The smile that claimed Bluestreak's face was reward enough; the quick squeeze the youngling gave his armor even more so. Prowl watched Bluestreak dart to the saboteur's side, his faceplates softer than he intended. His gaze followed the two as they crossed the small room to the door.

Once there, Jazz glanced back at him and, to the Praxian's great surprise, gave him a short, approving nod.

… … …

Prowl had only been online a mere three breems the next orn when, surprisingly, the entry request tone sounded. Startled – neither Ironhide or Jazz ever bothered with such niceties – Prowl stood respectfully and granted entry to the mystery Autobot before he bothered to scan for a spark signature.

To his immense surprise, the regal form of Optimus Prime strode through the open portal. Not letting his shock at how the Prime would take the risk of coming to see him by himself, Prowl dipped his head respectfully as was due a mech of the Prime's status.

"Prime, it is an honor."

Optimus hesitated mid-step just for an astrosecond as if caught off guard by the highly polite and formal tone of the greeting. "Greetings Prowl." He looked down at Bluestreak who was staring at him with wide optics. "Hello Bluestreak."

As if drawn by a magnetic force, Bluestreak walked closer to the blue and red mech that towered over him. "You… you feel different than other 'bots. But you are huge… Why aren't I afraid of you?"

Prowl watched with muted surprise – and a sense of warm awe he never expected to feel – as the Prime of Cybertron dropped gracefully to one knee, putting him as close as possible to the youngling who was absolutely tiny in comparison. It was clear one hundred percent of Optimus' attention was on the sparkling. Prowl stilled even his vents, not wanting to risk breaking the moment.

He did nothing to show it outwardly, but Prowl found he was pleased that Bluestreak was getting the opportunity to spend time with the Prime. Not many mechs had the privilege to grow up at the pedes of a Prime.

"I bear the Matrix, little one." The Prime was explaining with infinite gentleness. "That is what you are feeling."

"Oh…okay." Bluestreak's head canted to the side. "Um, what is a Matrix?"

The sound of a soft chuckle escaped the Prime's engine. "It is a Prime's link to Primus. It contains the wisdom of all the Primes who came before and helps me, as Prime, to lead our people."

"All Cybertronians?"

It was asked with all the innocence a youngling could generate, but it made Prowl's vents hitch, especially as Optimus' optics dimmed slightly with sadness. "At one time, yes. But sadly, there are some Cybertronians who have seen fit to fight against, not just me but all those who hold to the same ideals I am honor-bound to uphold."

For the first time since his initial greeting, Optimus lifted his optics to Prowl, but the tactician was unaware of his regard as Prowl's head was dipped, his gaze averted.

"Ideals? What is that?" Bluestreak asked, bobbing excitedly on his pedes.

That brought a warm smile back to the Prime's faceplates as he refocused on the youngling. "Ideals are guiding principles. They are ideas that define what we believe and who we are at spark."

Little doorwings quivered as the youngling considered that. Then, suddenly he rushed forward a few steps, earnestness tensing his frame. "I want an ideals."

The warmth in the Prime's optics was mesmerizing to Prowl as he rested a few fingers of one hand on the youngling's helm, not correcting the poor grammar. "A good goal to have. You can start with one and then add to it as you mature." Bluestreak nodded eagerly. "Why don't you start with honesty. It takes courage to be honest no matter the consequences. As an adult there may come a time where speaking all of the truth is not an option, but for now you should always speak the truth because it helps us to take care of you better."

Prowl found a smile was struggling to break his control as Bluestreak nodded, optics wide with awe. "Alright."

Then Optimus looked up at Prowl and slowly stood. Prowl kept his gaze slightly lowered, feeling the raw power of authority radiating off of the Prime. It was the same strength he had felt in the hanger and then again in the interrogation cell. But it was different, more intense almost. And it was rather disconcerting to be the focus of that attention. In a strange, illogical, way it had almost been easer to deal with it while he was a bound prisoner; at least then he knew exactly what was expected of him. At the moment there were too many gray areas.

The warmth that had filled the Prime's gaze faded, hardening into that of a firm leader dealing with a potential threat.

The sudden urge – need – to suppress a keen at sensing that transition nearly rocked Prowl to his core. He kept silent, refusing to let his frame move in any way that would betray his internal struggle.

"Congratulations Prowl, on passing the first stage of your integration."

Still not trusting himself to speak, Prowl bowed his helm in acknowledgement.

"Your first patrol will be later this orn… with Sunstreaker and Sideswipe, I understand." Bluestreak scurried out of Optimus' way as he took a small step towards the older Praxian.

"Yes, sir."

"I understand you have a history with them."

Still not meeting the Prime's gaze directly, Prowl nodded once. "From before the war, sir."

Optimus Prime considered him for a moment. "Yes. While they might be two of the harder personalities to work with – and are perhaps loose cannons most of the time – they are two of our most effective frontline warriors when they aren't taking foolish risks."

Prowl stiffened. Why was the Prime telling him this?

When he said nothing, Optimus continued. "But then, that tendency is probably why they agreed to take you with them."

Prowl flinched minutely then had to stamp down frustration with himself for letting that slip. "If it is deemed such a foolish risk to let me go on patrol, why take it, sir?"

Optimus actually smiled at that. "Because that is the only way to confirm or disprove that risk."

Then the Prime grew deadly serious, the intensity of his gaze actually sharper than it had been before and Prowl fought a shudder. "The Decepticons have picked up activity in the sector you will be patrolling. There will possibly be a chance for you to return to them." It was clear the Prime did not miss the way Prowl's doorwings stiffened in alarm. "Just know, I seldom send the Twins out without backup – just in case they decide to give into their more juvenile ideas and get into trouble. That will certainly be the case today."

Prowl narrowed his optics, thoroughly confused. "Backup?"

As if not noticing the Praxian's increasing perplexity, Optimus nodded. "Springer and Hound. Good scouts, decent marksmen. They know how to do what needs to be done. You know of them?"

Nodding cautiously, Prowl accessed the data from his memory banks on the Autobots. "Yes. They are known for not backing down, even in unfavorable conditions."

The light in Optimus' cerulean optics flickered with some indefinable emotion. "Indeed. They are also used to watching the Twin's backs."

"Why are you telling me this, Prime?" Only a hint of Prowl's increasing internal stress made it to his voice.

If it were possible, Optimus' gaze became even more intense, his voice full of warning. "You are a tactician. I want you to know the variables. Full communications will be restored to you for this mission. You will be able to call for help if you wish. I just wanted to let you know we would be prepared for that."

Prowl's gaze was plastered on the Prime, but the larger mech's expression was closed. Was it a veiled warning – or an indirect display of trust? Perhaps both. He bowed his helm. "Thank you, Prime."

Optimus considered him for a moment then nodded. "You will be debriefed upon your return. Whether that takes place in a prison cell or a briefing room will depend on you. Regardless of which it is, you will do well to remember my admonition to Bluestreak."

To be honest no matter the consequences…Prowl cycled air, stiffening at the implied warning and threat. Even so, he understood where it came from. For a moment he was tempted to just acknowledge the admonition, but from the malaise of listlessness he had felt to some degree or other since Megatron tried to kill him, he felt the first true flicker of a desire to serve again. A desire to have a purpose beyond just existence or the next mission placed before him. However, beyond that, he now found himself suddenly wanting the Prime to believe him.

But the statistics were so highly stacked against that ever happening, Prowl almost kept his vocalizer muted. Only the realization he might never get the chance to speak privately with the Prime again prompted Prowl to speak.

"Understood, Prime." He stumbled slightly, not used to expressing this type of sentiment. "I… I will not abuse the trust you are showing me."

"I am showing you very little trust, Prowl." The Prime's rejoinder was soft but firm.

Prowl lowered his gaze formally. "I know. But you are showing me some. Even if that is all you ever deem me worthy of, I will not betray it."

Optimus considered the Decepticon defector for a long moment, sensing something had changed in the mech since their last encounter… something major. The Matrix was telling him to trust what he was detecting, but Ironhide, Jazz, Red-Alert and Ratchet were advising him to maintain utmost caution.

The Prime spoke slowly. "I believe you mean that, Prowl." Red optics shot up in… surprise? Hope? Optimus was not sure as he continued. "But it will take time to prove it."

Prowl felt his frame relax slightly. He had not expected to be taken seriously. Optimus saw that as well.

"Yes, sir."

Optimus smiled ever so slightly. "May your patrol go well. I will see you again upon your return."

Bluestreak had migrated back to Prowl's side as the Prime turned and left his utilitarian quarters. Prowl watched him go, absently taking the hand Bluestreak slipped into his. But his processors were focused elsewhere. It was time to integrate the carefully prepared coding he had been working on for nearly a decaorn. Coding he had designed in order to help prevent him from ever loosing his ethical footing again.

… … …

Prowl had just finished integrating his new ethics subroutines when Jazz came for him. It was not a complete overhaul, simply a reversion to what they had been as an Enforcer but with a stronger integration matrix to the rest of his primary command codes. In other words, it was now impossible for him to violate the dictates of his moral and ethical programming, even if he wanted to. Ever.

Bluestreak had been worried about the way Jazz had carried himself, sensing something was different, but he had been easily mollified with the promise that he would get to spend a few days with Bumblebee.

It was the first time Prowl had accompanied Bluestreak to the quarters Chromia shared with Ironhide, even though they were on the same level as his own. The Femme greeted Bluestreak warmly and quickly pointed him to where the younger sparkling was quietly playing with a puzzle toy. Once Bluestreak was safely out of the way, Chromia turned now sharp optics onto Prowl with an appraising look the Praxian could not help but flinch his wings slightly at.

"So. You are Prowl." Though said in a neutral tone, nothing could hide the hostility behind her words.

"Yes." Prowl answered calmly, "You are Chromia."

The blue femme took a predatory step towards him, her voice lowering menacingly. "If I see Bluestreak picking up Decepticon tendencies from being in your keeping, I'll makes sure he is removed from your care… after I teach you a lesson."

Prowl blinked, not doubting the threat, though a part of his processor could not help but concede she was a perfect match for Ironhide. He opted for bowing his head slightly. "If that should happen, it is my expectation that such a lesson would prove very painful."

She blinked, her helm jerking back slightly in obvious surprise. Then she growled. "As it should be."

Quickly considering his options, aware a misstep here could have unpleasant consequences Prowl chose the path of least resistance.

"Of course," he agreed neutrally. "Thank you for taking care of him when I am… unavailable. I know he appreciates the time with Bumblebee and has commented more than once on how fair you are with both of them."

"Of course." She blinked again, glancing at Jazz briefly. "It's the least I can do. Now. Don't you have a patrol to run?"

Prowl nodded again, secretly grateful for the dismissal however rude it might be. "Indeed. Good orn, Chromia."

She growled. "Prowl."

Then the door swished, snapping closed in his faceplate.

He released a vent of air, relieved for some reason, to have survived that encounter. Then he became aware Jazz was staring at him oddly from behind his visor. He tilted his helm slightly to look at the saboteur.

"Wow." Jazz smiled suddenly. "Quite the diplomat, aren't ya? I've never seen Chromia thrown off when she was set for a full-on rage before."

Prowl cast the smaller, silver mech a sideways look, unable to keep the irony out of his voice. "Honesty is the best policy is it not?"

When Jazz just stared at him, Prowl looked away, shifting his doorwings slightly. "She spoke frankly with me and I simply acknowledged it as such."

"Right." Jazz said noncommittally. "Well, let's get you to med-bay so Ratch can restore your comm. systems."

Ratchet greeted them in the med-bay, having obviously already been warned of their impending arrival.

"I would say congratulations," the medic greeted without preamble, pointing onto a berth. "Except you are going with the Twins."

Prowl climbed onto the indicated exam berth. "That is not very reassuring, Medic."

"Hmph. It wasn't meant to be."

Prowl held very still as the Autobot CMO reached for him. With swift, firm movements, he felt his communications systems snap online.

Then Ratchet's face was suddenly in front of him, only inches away from his own. The hand that had been working on his neck now rested on his shoulder, pressing him firmly to the table. He was unable to lean away from the medic's intense and, quite honestly, frightening visage.

Knowing his precarious place, Prowl was careful not to struggle in the other mech's hold; demonstrating by action that he acknowledged the CMO's authority.

Ratchet's voice was low, dangerous and so soft that Prowl was the only other individual who heard. "If they come here slagged to pit after this patrol and you aren't here with them at least half as fragged as they are, you will find yourself in the brig so fast, with your frame stripped of all usable parts to fix them, and in nothing but your bare protoform left to face whatever Jazz or Ironhide plan after that. I sure as pit won't bother being nice when I fix you. Got it?"

Prowl's optics had widened through the barely audible rant, primarily because he did not doubt the medic's sincerity. Nor did he doubt that Ratchet thought there a real likelihood he would betray the Twins and that this warning was absolutely necessary.

Prowl released a vent, a part of him still thinking that perhaps, some orn, they would trust him enough to know he did not need to be threatened into obedience… especially now with the new programming in effect.

It was desire to be believed that spurred his next words. "Understood, sir. And should events transpire as you fear I will accept that consequence."

Ratchet's optic shutters gave a few spasmodic blinks then he backed off, considering Prowl for a long moment. "I'm going to release your weapons controls as well. If you even arm your weapons while on base – unless under a Decepticon attack – not only will the systems be locked faster than you can say 'metal smelter' they will be forcibly removed from your frame and you will be left defenseless."

"Understood." Prowl sighed air through his vents. He wanted to tell them that the continued threats were unnecessary, but logically he knew that in their optics he was still a Decepticon and therefore not to be trusted. It was like the Prime had said: it would take time to prove otherwise.

Ratchet considered the Praxian closely then reached forward and reconnected the controls so Prowl could access his weapons. Then he turned his gaze on Jazz. "He's all yours."

Jazz, who had crossed his arms over his chassis, leaning his hip joint against a nearby berth to watch the whole thing, freed one hand to point to the door, gesturing widely. "Let's go meet your new teammates, Prowler."

Prowl stamped down the urge to frown and glare at the nickname and managed to keep his expression neutral as he followed Jazz to an auxiliary briefing room.

The twin frontliners were already there by the time they reached the briefing room. Jazz smiled easily when he walked in.

"Sunny, Sides! How ya doin' mechs?" Jazz stepped to the side, waving a hand at Prowl. "This here is Prowl. Prowl; Sunstreaker and Sideswipe."

The grin on the silver minibot's faceplate was not pleasant or very friendly. It was more tense, but Prowl did not get a chance to attempt to ascertain the nuances of the saboteur's subtle facial clues as to his inner thoughts because Sideswipe was suddenly in front of him.

The deadly frontliner's expression was anything but welcoming. "So… Prowl. We meet again."

"Apparently so." Was all Prowl could manage, feeling what energon was in his tanks start to churn.

"Yeah." Sideswipe circled around him and Prowl turned slightly to keep the prowling mech in his sight. " 'Cept this time we're the ones in charge. Not you."

Prowl did not like the smile Sideswipe was wearing and suddenly found himself hoping he would even survive this patrol. "Understood."

An angry engine growled deep in the golden Twin's chassis. "Don't think we agreed to babysit you out of the goodness of our sparks…"

"What goodness?" Sideswipe interrupted his brother and Prowl could not tell if the silver mech was serious or playful.

Sunstreaker did not seam to care, he acknowledged the comment with nothing more than a glance at his twin. "That's beside the point."

Sideswipe shrugged and Sunstreaker turned his attention back to Prowl with frightening intensity. "We agreed because if you try anything we won't hesitate to end you… and you are well aware that we can."

"Understood." Prowl released a wary vent, seriously considering the possibility of going back to his quarters – or even the brig – rather than continue this patrol. But if this was the only way he could prove himself… the only way he would be allowed to help defeat Megatron and end the war…

He would just have to find some way to survive the next few orn.


Yes, I have Sideswipe as being silver here… 'cause that was Bay's verse and that's the image I have in my head. Sorry to everyone out there who were expecting him to be red like the cartoon. As always, I am eager for your feedback.