Unsurprisingly , Prowl was dismissed from the tactical command center before much discussion about the possible traitor was had. Without much noticeable emotion, he accepted the Prime's dismissal with equanimity. He even managed to nod politely to the mech, Trailbreaker, who was assigned to escort him off of the command level.

Trailbreaker, now walking somewhat nervously beside him, was roughly the same size as Hound, making him only slightly more bulky than Prowl. But Prowl hardly paid the mech much attention. Likewise, he paid no attention to the many sets of optics that followed him from the tactical command center. He walked directly and with purpose, not willing to give anyone doubts he would do exactly as he had been ordered.

Unfortunately, he had been given no orders other than to leave the command level.

So he left, not really sure what he would do once he was gone.

Even though his pedes were carrying him away, Prowl continued to process what had happened. He knew that if Smokescreen had not been in his processor for that analysis, there was little chance they would have accepted the possibility of a traitor. In a way, he was glad the other tactician had been in his mind if for no other reason than that.

He did not know if it was embarrassment over the show he had doubtlessly provided or shame for finally realizing the depth of what his decision to become a Decepticon had done to Smokescreen that made it difficult to look anywhere but directly ahead. Smokescreen was one of the most brilliant defensive strategists Prowl had ever worked with. It was the potential he had seen in the younger Praxian that had first spurred him to take the white and gray enforcer under his doorwing as an apprentice.

After he had decided to follow Megatron, the only thing they had had in common had been Praxus.

Now they had both lost Praxus. If Prowl had chosen differently all those vorns ago, if he had chosen to lend his skills and abilities to the Autobots from the beginning, was it possible that the loss of Praxus could have been avoided?

A part of his processor knew it would be arrogant and painfully illogical to believe he, one single mech, could have prevented such a widespread catastrophe. And he also knew that since he had been unable to predict such an outright slaughter even when he had worked for Megatron directly, it was highly illogical to think he would have been able to predict it any more accurately without being so intimately involved. That did not stop his tactical computer from attacking the question.

Nor did it help that the answer it returned was a nauseating, :results, inconclusive: that would haunt him for vorns.

But Smokescreen had been more than just an apprentice. He had once been a good friend, a reliable subordinate and a trusted comrade.

Prowl understood his own actions had destroyed that relationship. He understood and he blamed no one but himself.

He tried to keep a solid lid over his emotions, as he had since Praxus: as he had had to do since joining the Decepticons. But now he felt his control crack.

He was not sure what exactly had caused the crack. Was it the humiliating analysis he had just endured? Was it finally understanding what he had done to Smokescreen? Was it the fall of Praxus and all the innocent lives destroyed by it? Was it the weight of suspicion and distrust he continued to feel in those around him regardless of his attempts to prove himself? Most likely it was all of the above.

Prowl knew he could not net his control slip. Not now, not here. It was not safe. He was desperate to find some way to regain that control and struggled to tamp his rebelling emotional center back into submission, not understanding why it was suddenly more difficult that normal. Why it was affecting his logic centers so dramatically.

All he got for his efforts was a sharp, needlelike pain stabbing into his processor. His vents hitched, his doorwings flicking harshly. It was enough to cause Trailbreaker to glance at him sharply.

Irritated anew at the affective loss of control Prowl forcibly tucked his doorwings apologetically but did not deign to comment.

He did not miss that the Autobot was now considering him with increased wariness. Where before he might have apologized for putting him on edge, now Prowl simply wanted to snap at him. But Prowl knew that was not an option, either from a self-preservation standpoint or an ethical one. So he said nothing.

"Is something wrong?" Trailbreaker asked after a long moment.

"No." Prowl replied curtly.

"Right." It was clear Trailbreaker did not believe that statement but he did not press the matter and Prowl was, despite everything, thankful for that.

He released a vent, forcing himself to behave in a civil manner and felt the tension grow in his processor. "I appreciate your concern, Trailbreaker, but you need not worry."

Trailbreaker's only response was a noncommittal huff of air expelled through his vents and a muttered. "I'm not."

Of course not. Prowl was not surprised by that. He was a former Decepticon, why would any Autobot care what happened to him. It was a simple fact, the natural order of existence, a well-known reality. Why did it suddenly feel like a punch to the face plate?

He recognized that his grip on his emotional center was quickly falling apart, much like a frayed polymer-fiber cord under extreme tension.

Distantly Prowl remembered Ratchet's warning about an instability in his logic and emotional interface and wondered if this was a manifestation of that. He had no way of knowing without allowing the CMO to examine his command cortex again. But the thought of asking the medic to look at his mind after what he had just endured was enough to make his tanks churn.

No, he had to find a way to handle this on his own.

Only one possible method came to mind.

They stopped at the lift that would take Prowl off the command level. Trailbreaker pushed the control, summoning a lift, then looked at Prowl. "Well, this is as far as I go. I suppose I should thank you for your efforts on our behalf."

"Your gratitude is hardly necessary." Prowl intoned quietly. "Though I suppose I should appreciate it any way."

It sounded much, much more curt and rude than Prowl had intended. But it was impossible to take back what had been said so he did his best not to flinch when Trailbreaker's engine revved.

"Look, you. Just 'cause you helped us out just now, don't think you can get by with being an aft." Trailbreaker hissed, his own armor flared in obvious offence.

Prowl was already occupied trying to control out of bounds emotions and the regret he felt at being unfairly offensive only made it worse. Even so, he was still able to acknowledge the truth in Trailbreaker's statement.

The shame of being dressed down by a low-ranking mech, along with the embarrassment of knowing the dressing down was well deserved, only added to his internal struggle. Then again, he was a paroled prisoner; even the lowest ranking Autobot still outranked him. Ironhide, Jazz, Ratchet, Hound and Hardstrike, let alone the Twins, had been far harsher with him and he had not had this much trouble dealing with it. Why was justifiable correction so difficult to swallow this time?

Thus Prowl forced himself to meet the other mech's optics for a brief moment before averting his gaze and bowing his helm formally. "You are right, Trailbreaker. I had no right to be rude. My apologies." The lift opened and Prowl stepped into it. Without looking up he added, "Thank you for escorting me here."

He depressed the button and the lift doors snapped shut before he could even see Trailbreaker's expression start to morph into surprise.

He had to get control or he would loose everything he had gained so far.

Deeming himself without any viable alternative options, Prowl sent a quick databurst to Ironhide, Red Alert and Jazz. His meditations had only suffered a mere 12 breem interruption; an interruption that was virtually negligible. With determined strides, Prowl returned to the training room to continue the only exercise he knew could help him in his current struggle.

… … …

A joor later Prowl was finishing his second cycle of meditation, using the ancient processor techniques to help calm his systems. His success was only marginal, however. Yes, he had managed to reinforce his outward control over his emotive expressions, but inside the storm still raged unabated.

With a weary release of air, Prowl prepared to begin a third cycle of meditation when, behind him, the door to the training room buzzed open. Prowl stiffened, recognizing the spark signature immediately.

Alarm shot through him only to be ruthlessly suppressed as he stood. He turned and bowed in one smooth motion. "Prime."

Optimus stopped moving just inside the training room, allowing the door to close behind him, the hologram reforming to hide the entrance. Cool, blue optics considered the former Decepticon for a long moment then the Prime nodded, acknowledging the formal greeting. "Stand at ease, Prowl."

The Praxian straightened, though he did not truly relax, surprised the Prime would seek him out here - alone. Remembering his failure in social graces with Trailbreaker, Prowl determined not to make a similar mistake with the Autobot leader.

"To what do I owe the honor?"

It sounded stilted, even to Prowl's own audios, and the towering blue and red mech did not respond immediately. Instead, he took another step toward the tactician even as he allowed his optics to rove over the holographic chamber, carefully taking in every available detail.

Slowly the Prime's gaze returned to Prowl, the weight of it making him want to shiver. "Do you truly think that way or are you simply saying that to be polite?"

The calm, almost conversational way the question was asked contrasted with the seriousness in the Prime's optics and had Prowl stiffening, then he frowned. The truth was that he was simply trying to be polite even if logically he also knew it was an honor to have a private audience with the Prime. The fact that the two conflicted so strongly made the ache in his processor feel like a sudden vice and he was not sure what he should, or could say that would not be either a lie or a breech of etiquette.

"Will my words be believed?" The sharp question slipped out, hissed between his denta, before Prowl could sensor it and his vents hitched in horror at the impertinence of the question. Clearly he was not in as much control as he had thought.

One of the Prime's optic ridges quirked in challenge. "Do I have reason not to believe them?"

Prowl frowned, even as flustered as he was he recognized a baited question. Logic dictated Optimus was attempting to trap him, just as Megatron would have, even if past experience with Optimus himself refuted that assumption.

It was testament to how rattled Prowl's processors were that he did not stop to more carefully consider the situation before he replied. More importantly, he would never have allowed the hint of inappropriate bitterness to touch his voice. " I am confident Ironhide, Red Alert or Smokescreen could give you plenty of reasons."

The Prime's helm cocked ever so slightly to one side as he continued to study the Praxian. "And that frustrates you, does it not?"

Optimus could see the former Decepticon's doorwings flinch violently, if stiffly, and knew by that alone that he was hitting a live neural wire. The way Prowl's optics quickly darted to the floor was further evidence. The Prime saw the silent struggle in every line of the Praxian's frame, could feel it where the Matrix rested against his spark and knew the mech was fighting an internal battle the likes of which he had only seen hints of before.

He waited for Prowl to respond; silently hopeful the tactician would be honest. He wanted to help and sought for a way to do so, but he needed more insight into the underlying problem, an opening he could use.

Prowl's words, when they finally came were carefully bland and yet the frustration and simmering anger were clear beneath the surface. "My objections to their opinions carry little weight. Why should I waste my time?"

Optimus then better understood what was troubling the former Decepticon. He had seen hints of the depth behind what had transpired between his lead tactician and Prowl and had felt the change that had overcome the black and white Praxian. He quickly considered how to best proceed and, after a sparkbeat, decided to press harder, pushing Prowl even further, trusting what he felt from the Matrix.

"If you truly believe that, then you likely believe speaking to me is a waste of your time as well."

The change in Prowl's demeanor was instant even if not openly broadcast. The boiling frustration evaporated, leaving in its wake a lick of fear and chagrin that the Praxian could not entirely conceal. Then that impassive mask reasserted itself over his expression, though in an uncharacteristically halting manner. It was as if he was having to struggle to keep it in place, something Optimus had not seen before, at least not to this degree.

The smaller mech opened his mouth to speak, but Optimus did not let him. "Can you blame them for their suspicions?"

Bright red optics blazed and then fell to the ground. "No. I… I spoke without thinking Prime. I apologize."

Optimus frowned slightly. "Perhaps. But they were honest words conveying how you honestly felt." Prowl's doorwings flicked in a minute wince, but he did not try to deny the observation.

Optimus released a vent, turning away slightly to remove some pressure from the Praxian. "Like you cannot blame my officers for their suspicions, I cannot blame you for your frustrations."

Prowl's helm snapped up, his optics dilating with surprise. Optimus merely smiled faintly, explaining. "The integration process is designed to be frustrating because it is when stressed that a mech's real spark shows itself. Those who are sincere will persevere. Those who are not will get fed up and eventually retaliate."

Cobalt and ruby optics locked and in that moment Prowl was struck again by the sheer presence radiating off the Prime while Optimus was granted a small glimpse at the deep pain that Prowl had somehow managed to hide, he suspected, since he had first stepped pede in Iacon.

Drawing in a vent of air, Optimus chose to let Prowl think about what he had said and changed the subject. He glanced around, deliberately nonchalant. "This is a Circuit Su dojo, is it not?"

Prowl blinked, thrown by the sudden change in topic, the pain in his processors sharper, his balance systems threatening to send him reeling and he felt as though he only remained upright by sheer force of will.

Nonetheless, he answered. "Yes, sir. A recreation of the one in which I trained in Praxus."

Optimus nodded, almost absently, as he carefully considered what he was about to do, cautiously comparing the risks to what he knew about the mech before him. A mech who was standing with clenched hands and flared vents, very much at odds with himself. Optimus knew Prowl was not a Decepticon. And while he might not be an Autobot, he was still Cybertronian, one whom he felt that he, as Prime, had a duty toward.

The Prime turned to face the black and white mech with calm dignity, his optics constricting as he focused all of his attention on what was coming. "It has been a long time since I have had a proper work out. Perhaps you would indulge me in a sparring match?"

The sudden alarm that shot through Prowl was unmistakable. Incredibly, the Praxian even took a small step backward as Optimus stepped up onto the training mat. Where anger and frustration had dominated the smaller mech's frame moments before, they were now superseded by a hint of fear. But not, Optimus suspected, simply because Prowl feared he would loose such a match. No there was something more to it, something deeper and longer standing.

Prowl took another small step away from him, doorwings flicking though his tone was remarkably free of inflection. "I am… not sure that would be appropriate, sir…"

Optimus waved away the concern. "While I may not be a master in the discipline, I assure you I am far from untrained."

The light it Prowl's crimson optics grew more desperate, a multitude of unspoken thoughts racing behind his mostly masked expression. "But… I cannot…"

Optimus' reply was gentle, though his stance was unwavering. "I know you cannot intentionally kill me. I saw your new coding. But this is just a friendly sparing match, not a fight to the death."

"But…" Now Optimus could see the barest hints of fear in the mostly stoic mech.

"Would it help if I made it an order?" Optimus cut him off and then did not give him a chance to answer, dropping into a fighting stance. "Defend yourself."

Without any additional warning, the Prime attacked Prowl with a kick aimed at taking out one of the Praxian's knees. Responding swiftly on instincts alone, Prowl avoided the blow and then blocked the strike aimed at his helm with one arm. The doorwinged mech spun away from the larger one, managing to divert a punch before it could land on his shoulder.

Prowl danced away, circling the Prime warily, his optics dilated as he watched the larger mech. Optimus smiled faintly, though it was now hidden behind his battle mask. He did not make the Praxian wait long before attacking again.

Strong silver, blue and red arms struck again, a flurry of motion that belied Optimus' size and mass. Prowl managed to deflect each blow, grunting with the effort, though he did nothing more than that. He defended himself as he had been ordered and managed to hold his own with relative ease considering the size difference between them, but that was all.

Realizing that, Optimus backed off, turning his advance into a circle. "This is a sparring match, Prowl. You are allowed to be on the offensive."

Prowl's optics widened, though whether it was in surprise or concern, Optimus was not sure. Then, in a flash of black and white armor, it was as if a switch had been thrown. Something snapped within the former Decepticon. A low, short, static-laced keen escaped his vocalizer even as he launched himself into a sudden burst of speed and aggression.

Moving with deadly grace, not an ounce of energy wasted on useless motion, Prowl collided with Optimus in a carefully controlled dance of blows and strikes. First Optimus' legs were taken out, then, his balance failing, a hard blow landed against his chassis and he found himself crashing to his back on the mat, Prowl's now openly angry and desperate faceplate looming over him with blazing ruby optics.

Optimus could feel the tremble in the frame pinning him to the mat. He knew with absolute certainty now that the smaller mech's skills in the discipline of Circuit Su far outweighed his own. He knew the danger he was in as he felt one of the former Decepticon's hands close over a major energon line within his chassis. And yet he felt no fear.

Engine revving as his vents heaved air Prowl growled, fingers tightening minutely, demonstratively, around the vulnerable fuel line. "Is this what you had in mind, Prime?"

Optimus did not move, by his complete stillness yielding victory in that round to the Praxian. "This is exactly what I mean."

Prowl's optics widened at the calm, even statement and he drew back, withdrawing his hand from the gaps between armor plates in the Autobot leader's chassis and sliding off the Prime's much larger frame. He backed off warily as the Prime regained his feet.

Climbing back to his pedes, Optimus looked at Prowl. He watched as Prowl lowered his gaze, doorwings trembling as he waited with mounting tension and the Prime suddenly realized Prowl's suspicion; the same suspicion he had sensed earlier in the smaller mech and understood that Prowl was waiting to be punished for what he had just done.

As Optimus reached his full height he turned fully to Prowl and saw the slight shudder that worked it's way down his frame. And yet the tactician maintained his submissive posture as he watched Optimus step toward him.

Optimus understood. Prowl's attack had been strictly demonstrative, to prove this sparring match was not a good idea, and yet he also expected to be punished for it – he expected to be punished for following orders. This was not a reaction he had learned from his short time among the Autobots. But it did explain why he had attempted to warn Optimus off. If anyone was aware of his brother's vindictive nature, Optimus was.

Optimus stopped moving, raising his hands non-threateningly as he spoke gently. "I am not attempting to trap you, Prowl. I give you my word."

Prowl did not relax, though his bright crimson optics shifted slightly. And, despite his attempts to prevent it from happening, Optimus felt his spark ache for the Praxian as the missing pieces of the puzzle concerning the mech's behavior finally fell into focus. Prowl's time with the Decepticons had not only made him a mech Autobots would have trouble trusting, it also made Prowl reluctant if not downright fearful of trusting other mechs. All of the observations Optimus had made about Prowl to that point were suddenly illuminated in a slightly new manner.

Yes, this sparing match was exactly what Prowl needed, for more than one reason. Optimus watched Prowl twitch slightly as the Praxian watched him drop back into a defensive stance. When Optimus did not immediately attack, Prowl slowly relaxed into his own fighting posture. Optimus nodded once in encouragement and then both mechs were moving again, both committed to the sparring match now.

At first there was a desperation in the Praxian's movements, each strike and each block almost brimming with emotion as he unleashed his pent up anger, frustration and pure grief. His blows were swift, sharp and precise and, at least initially each round ended quickly with the tactician holding the Prime's life at his mercy.

And yet it stopped there. Prowl would hold that position of dominance just long enough for the Prime to acknowledge yet another loss and then he would back off. Each time he regained his pedes, Optimus would silently encourage Prowl to continue.

After a joor, the Prime noticed a change in Prowl's demeanor, a minor difference in how he carried himself. The underlying emotional pain underpinning every movement faded until it was once again his processors dictating his movements, not his emotional center.

Once that change occurred, Optimus found he could occasionally take the upper hand in the fight. It did not happen often, and the first time it did, Optimus would have sworn Prowl had intentionally left himself open almost as if hoping the Prime would take advantage of it. The tiny, almost imperceptible nod of approval Prowl gave him when Optimus was able to slam him into the mat the first time was confirmation of that assumption.

Thus Optimus sensed that the sparring match ceased being an outlet of emotional tension for Prowl and became something that felt more like a method of evaluation and assessment.

This would be confirmed obliquely when the Prime would note that Prowl would occasionally use the same moves multiple times in succession until Optimus found a way to successfully counter them.

Sometimes Optimus could gain the upper hand, most of the time however, he could not. In some ways, it reminded Optimus of when he had trained under Terratron before the war and it said even more about Prowl than words possibly could.

… … …

It was nearly a joor and a half and they were still going strong, both mechs privately enjoying the contest. Prowl had just managed to pin the Prime to the ground again when the door to the training room burst open.

Faster than either the Prime or former Decepticon could respond, Ironhide and Jazz were upon them.

The two warriors were on Prowl faster than a sparkbeat, hauling him off of their leader and using their combined strength to throw him into the wall. Realizing instantly how it must have looked to them, all fight left the Praxian's frame before he even hit the ground. They were at his side once more and he allowed himself to be harshly slammed into the wall again.

Prowl did not resist the hands that held him braced against the unforgiving surface and then permitted himself to be forced to his knees, wincing as the armor plates protecting the joints buckled slightly with the force of his impact with the ground.

Each mech grabbed hold of one of his arms, using the leverage to effectively immobilize him. Prowl surrendered, allowing himself to be restrained without resistance even as Ratchet raced to the Prime's side. Accordingly he did not look directly at either of the two mechs holding him.

"When you answered Jazz's query with a location ping we knew something was wrong." Ratchet knelt by his leader. "Are you damaged Optimus? Did he hurt you?"

Prowl lowered his gaze completely at hearing that, realizing it was no coincidence that they had been interrupted. They had been summoned and that could only mean one thing, Optimus' promise not withstanding, and resigned himself to the inevitable. Therefore, he did not see Optimus brush aside Ratchet's concern as he pushed himself back to his pedes.

"Ironhide, Jazz; stand down. Let him go." All motion in the training room froze momentarily at Optimus' calm, commanding tone.

Prowl went stiff, hardly believing his audios. Ironhide appeared to be having the same problem because his engine stuttered. "But, the little cretin…"

Optimus shook his helm, cutting the black mech off. "Prowl has done no wrong. Let him go."

Clearly unhappy but bound to obey orders, Ironhide slowly loosened his grip before finally releasing Prowl all together. Jazz was even slower to obey, but he too eventually backed off, though they both stood ready to intervene if necessary. Prowl, however, was staring at the Prime, surprised, despite everything, that he had not taken that perfect opportunity to punish him for so clearly defeating him, for humiliating him in front of his subordinates.

Megatron would never have allowed such a thing to go without making a painful example of the unfortunate mech who bested him.

Instead, the Prime stepped in front of him and offered a hand to help him back to his feet. He moved stiffly, aware the three other Autobots were absolutely still, staring at their Prime.

Seemingly unconcerned by they others' presence, if not even a touch amused, Optimus gestured Prowl to the center of the training mat and Prowl followed the silent order cautiously, the gazes of the three other Autobots boring into his back. Would he now be expected to allow the Prime to save face by loosing and allowing himself to get beaten? If so, he knew he could not defend himself.

To his great shock, once they were both again standing in the center of the floor, the Prime actually bowed to him. It was the partial, respectful bow all Circuit Su trainees were taught to give those who had mastered the art both before and following a training session. It was the last thing Prowl had expected, even if long ingrained habit had him returning the bow instantly.

Dimly he was aware that the other Autobots were no longer just staring; they were doing so with slack faceplates.

Straightening, Optimus smiled and Prowl almost trembled at the peace and steadiness that radiated from the Prime. "Thank you, Prowl. It is clear you are a master in Circuit Su."

Prowl nodded, regaining his composure quickly now that his processors were again clear of excess emotional buildup. "Yes, sir. It has been a long time since I have been able to spar. Your own training was extensive."

The Prime cocked an optic ridge good-naturedly at that. "Not extensive enough, apparently." Then his gaze became more thoughtful. "Perhaps you might one day be amenable to rectifying that situation."

Prowl's doorwings jerked upward in shock before he could control them and, briefly he felt a sharp pain stab into his processors, but it faded completely, lasting less than a sparkbeat. He dipped his helm. "It would be my honor, Prime."

Even as he said the words, Prowl realized he meant them. Optimus Prime was not just a formidable leader, or powerful fighter, but also a mech with a conscience and a strict moral code; an honorable individual who used the power of his office for the benefit of those beneath him rather than his own – as had been demonstrated rather dramatically just now. Optimus had, so far, proven to be an individual whom Prowl could trust. Someone who also trusted him, at least to some degree.

Optimus chuckled softly, clearly seeing the consternation on Prowl's face, as he extended a hand toward the Praxian. The room was deathly silent as the two mechs touched palms. Then the Prime pointed back to the three other Autobots who were staring at them with worried optics.

Together, Prowl and Optimus turned to face their audience of three.

… … …

It had taken over two joors after the Praxian had completed his analysis with Smokescreen for Jazz to realize exactly what had disconcerted him about Prowl when he had tracked him down to the training room. Yes, he knew the simulation had been a dojo. But that did not explain how… natural… Prowl had appeared on that dojo floor, how commanding his presence had suddenly been, even though he doubted the Praxian had been that way on purpose and probably had not even been aware of the transformation.

It was not until two joors after Prowl had left the command center, while his processors had idly fiddled with the puzzle pieces that represented Prowl, that things had suddenly fell into place for the saboteur. Prowl's amazing stoicism. His impressive skills with hand to hand combat. His willingness to let First Aid gain experience using himself. Prowl's impressive mental capabilities in that he had the mental discipline to defeat Soundwave. The fantastically strong firewalls. The almost indefinable change in Prowl's demeanor when Jazz had interrupted his meditations. The fact that he had seen nothing in any of his previous scans…

Filled with brimming alarm and frightening insight, Jazz realized he needed to notify the Prime. It was very possible that Prowl was far more of a threat to everyone on the base than they had initially assumed. In fact, it was very likely he was a more skilled fighter than half the command staff if not more.

He headed for the Prime's office – usually a sure bet when the Prime was on base and Elita-one was not; like now. But he was not there. With a frown, he sent a query to his leader, sending it on an urgent frequency.

The reply he got nearly made his energon lines freeze: a location ping, nothing more.

His startled "Slaggit!" attracted both Ironhide and Ratchet's attention and they wordlessly followed him as he bolted from the command center.

Then to make it to the training room to actually find Prowl with Optimus' spark at his mercy…

Now, Jazz watched his Prime and the former Decepticon tactician face each other on the mat in the simulated dojo. When the location ping he had received from Optimus put him in the same training room as Prowl, his spark had all but stalled in his chassis.

He had felt the increase in the Praxian's emotional tension during his tactical analysis and then had seen his steadily degrading control as he had left the tactical command center.

True Decepticons had no respect for anyone weaker than they, for anyone they could defeat in combat. Right now, the only thing that kept Prowl from being a very dangerous threat was his decision to see them as an allied faction. Likewise, it had not been difficult to notice that Prowl had held a strut deep respect for the Prime, even in their first, very brief meeting in the hanger when the Praxian had first come on base and was doubtless a main contributing factor to his current loyalty. A Decepticon would have lost that reverence after so clearly defeating the Prime.

But Jazz watched as Prowl bowed his helm respectfully and agreed to instruct the Prime further in the discipline of Circuit Su.

Having been in Prowl's mind he could tell the Praxian was truly taken aback by the request, that he was being absolutely truthful when he claimed it would be an honor. Whatever Prowl might be, he was truly no longer a Decepticon. Could he be trusted? Without being bound by his ethical programming? Jazz was not so quick to say. But he was not a Decepticon.

No Decepticon with Prowl's skills would have surrendered and allowed himself to be manhandled as Prowl had just done…

He blinked back to the moment as Ratchet pushed himself forward to scan Optimus. The Prime attempted to brush the CMO off again, but Ratchet's engine revved, growling with a low threat and Optimus obligingly held still until he was finished.

Ironhide did not wait, taking advantage of the opportunity to rattle off how stupid it had been to confront such a highly skilled former Decepticon in private.

While the two larger mechs fussed over Optimus, Jazz kept his attention on the Praxian. Though his expression and posture were carefully neutral, it was clear he was watching the genuine, though casual interactions, with thinly veiled surprise.

"Friends, calm down." Optimus' serene, if somewhat exasperated command, redrew Jazz's attention, though not before he saw Prowl's optics widen slightly at the term of address. "It was nothing but a friendly sparring match. Neither of us are damaged."

"Calm down?" Ironhide demanded. "You close yourself into a training room with a Decepticon and let him attack you – sparring match or not – and you expect us to calm down? But…"

The Prime released a vent in a manner that made Ironhide cut off his vocalizer, silencing whatever else he might have said. "Precisely. It was the perfect opportunity for Prowl to take advantage and assassinate me if he had wished."

Even Jazz blinked at the almost blithe way Optimus then canted a look at the increasingly uneasy tactician. "How many opportunities to kill me did you pass up within the last joor, Prowl?"

Doorwings flicked as he suddenly became the center of attention, even though Jazz's processors snagged on the timeframe. They had been 'sparing' for a joor? Doorwings flinched again as Prowl answered. "At least twenty seven within the last joor alone, Prime. Likewise, you bypassed seven opportunities to kill me."

Jazz's vents stalled as that statement sank home the true disparity of the skill Prowl had had over their Prime as well as the understanding that they had been isolated together for longer than a joor. Most mechs only lasted for a joor at most when sparring and both were usually beat up enough afterward to give Ratchet an excuse to chew them up one side and down the other.

Neither Optimus nor Prowl had more than a few minor scratches and dents. It was a testament to skill and control. Prowl's skill and control in this case apparently, at least for the most part.

"You were sparring for longer than a joor?" Ironhide asked, static on the edges of his words as he too caught the larger implications.

Optimus actually chuckled at that, laying a hand briefly on the mech's broad, black shoulders. "Yes, old friend. And Prowl was winning handily most of that time."

Ironhide blinked, glancing at the mostly impassive Praxian before grumbling. "It was still a foolish risk."

"He said something like that as well." Optimus said gently.

Ironhide, Ratchet and Jazz could only stare at their leader as if he had customized an additional leg onto his frame even though Prowl's vents flared uncomfortably.

Suddenly Ratchet spun to face the tactician and Jazz watched Prowl stiffen as sensory energy flicked over him. The Praxian however was not brave enough to try and wave off the attention, or even move for that matter.

After a moment to analyze the results, Ratchet huffed. "Neither of you are badly injured. That doesn't mean he…"

"All three of you saw his ethical coding." Optimus interrupted his CMO gently but firmly. Jazz saw Prowl stiffen at the turn in the conversation as much as at the change in the Prime's tone but he gave no indication of protest; accepting. Neither was Jazz immune to his leader's now serious voice. "You have all seen it, and yet you refuse to see beyond the decal on his armor and the color of his optics."

"But we don't know how tightly bound he's by that codin'." Jazz spoke up suddenly, looking from his Prime to the former Decepticon. "He managed to hide this from me. And it wasn't in Ratch's report either." He gestured around at the dojo by way of illustration.

"I have not hidden anything from you intentionally, Jazz." Prowl said softly into the thoughtful silence, drawing every mech's attention, though he looked only at Jazz. "My training in Circuit Su was completed many decavorns before the war began. It was a journey I began before I even joined Praxus' Enforcer Corps. When I lowered my firewalls for you I did so completely. You limited yourself to looking for intelligence on the Decepticons."

Jazz just stared for a moment then pointed at Ratchet. "What 'bout him?"

"Even he did not search that far back into my past. I did not intentionally conceal anything." Tactician and saboteur stared at each other, reading each other; evaluating.

"You doubt me." Prowl said at last, his voice soft but not bitter as Jazz might have expected.

"It's kinda hard not ta."

They stared at one another for a long moment, then Prowl nodded.

"I am sorry." Prowl seemed to consider carefully what he was about to say, continuing with measured words. "Would another scan put your worries at ease?"

"Ya want me to just poke 'round wherever I please?" Jazz ignored the low warning rev of Optimus' engine.

Prowl shook his helm once. "No. But I am the one on probation here and the terms were very clear. I will not resist you should you deem another deep scan necessary to allay your suspicions."

For one terrible astrosecond Jazz wanted to do nothing else than to dig mercilessly into the other mech's mind and find everything he had missed the first time. His optics blazed behind his visor as his mind raced to figure out how best to go about it. Then he saw the way Prowl's optics flickered as he read his intentions and then the tactician carefully adopted a completely submissive posture and he instantly knew Prowl would do exactly as he had promised. The determination to prove himself that such a complete forfeiting of one's privacy would require shook the Saboteur to his core.

That made Jazz pause, one hand reaching for his cable, just long enough for Optimus to rest a restraining hand on his shoulder. "Jazz… we both know a Decepticon would not make such an offer. Perhaps it is time we cease to treat him as if he were one."

Jazz winced slightly at the disappointment he heard in those words but he could not honestly deny the gentle reprimand. Then the potential ramifications of those words hit him and his optics flared brightly behind his visor as he focused on Optimus. "Are ya suggestin' cuttin' his integration process short?"

Optimus shook his helm calmly, though he looked at Prowl when he answered. "No. The protocol exists for a reason and we will follow it."

Jazz might have been seeing things, but it looked as if the tense flare of Prowl's doorwings actually relaxed slightly. The Praxian offered a tiny nod in acknowledgement and clear welcome of the Prime's words, which Optimus returned before he looked at Jazz.

Then Optimus looked at each of them, "But if the command staff isn't willing to allow the integration, then all the protocols on Cybertron will not make it happen. That means we must at least be willing to learn to trust him as he learns to trust us."

Silence claimed the training room, but none of the other Autobots could find it within themselves to contest their leader's admonition. Jazz glanced at the subject of their discussion to find that Prowl had lowered his gaze

If Jazz did not know better, he would have said that Prowl looked overwhelmed… or nearly so, at least.

In thinking about all that he had observed about the mech since his arrival, Jazz found he did not even want to contest the Prime's words. He was not sure if he was ready to truly trust Prowl, but he was ready to start trying to trust him.

Ratchet, however, did not seem so ready to concede. He crossed his arms over his chassis. "And just what, pray tell, did you learn about him just now?"

Instead of taking offense at the slightly insubordinate tone of his CMO, Optimus smiled. "That even frustrated and provoked into lashing out, he did not take a perfect opportunity to do more than cause a few dents and scrapes when my very spark was at his mercy… more than once."

Optimus turned to Prowl and the Praxian straightened subtly. "Prowl. Go; refuel and take some time with Bluestreak. You will be leaving on a long-term scouting mission in an orn."

To his credit, Prowl accepted the clearly unexpected dismissal with aplomb, bowing slightly. "Yes, sir."

The Praxian started to leave only to stop when Optimus called out to him again. "And Prowl…" Prowl looked back curiously then his optics widened as Optimus pulled five datapads out of his subspace and held them out. "Here. These are yours. While their contents have been scanned for useful intelligence, they are otherwise intact."

Prowl slowly accepted the proffered tablets, as if not entirely sure what to think. He had not been expecting to have any of his seized possessions returned, that much was painfully clear. Briefly it made Jazz wonder if that fact said more about the Decepticons or their own behavior toward Prowl.

"Thank you, Prime." Prowl's words were almost a whisper.

Optimus' face morphed slightly into an understanding and friendly smirk. "This is actually why I was looking for you originally, but I think the exercise was beneficial… for both of us."

Prowl's demeanor shifted slightly as he lifted his gaze to the Prime's. Then, to Jazz's great surprise, an answering smirk briefly tipped Prowl's lip plates. "Indeed, sir."

Wow, I wasn't sure I'd get this one out as scheduled. I had a hard time getting Optimus just right here and it was frustrating… heck, I'm still not sure I succeeded. But I got tired of reworking and reworking and decided it was close enough. Better to move on and perhaps fine tune it someday when I have a little bit of distance from it and can see it in a clearer light.

Also, many thanks to Albion North for inspiration concerning Jazz's perspective here. I had not intended to include Jazz's insights and thoughts at this juncture. However, after a wonderfully thought provoking review and ensuing conversation, I realized it was needed.

Was this what anyone was expecting? Any guesses abut his next patrol? (Don't worry, we will return to the whole 'possible traitor' thing later on, but Prowl was heading for an emotional breakdown and that had to be dealt with first.). Please share you thoughts!