It was three orns before Hound even acknowledged Prowl's existence other than to give orders. Prowl did not push the issue, willing to give the other mech as much time as he needed. By the end of the first orn, Hound allowed Prowl to do some basic field repairs to his leg, but that was it. He was not allowed anywhere near Hound's communications or control systems meaning the scout remained without communications other than short distance internal comms and also without weapons. It was commentary on Hound's distrust that he preferred to be unarmed rather than allow Prowl access to those systems, and that told Prowl clearer than words could where he stood.

When Hound finally did break the silence that had almost solidified between them, it was sudden and almost completely unexpected. "I don't know exactly what the procedure will be when we get back. Nothing like this has ever happened. At least not to me."

If Prowl had been in his base mode he would have nodded, instead he transmitted the equivalent of the gesture. "Whatever transpires, I will not resist."

"You won't?" There was open skepticism in Hound's tone.

"I will not." Prowl assured. "Whatever happens, the fact remains that you are safe. Anything else is immaterial."

Hound huffed after a long moment of silent consideration. "Well, for what it is worth, I promise that I will be absolutely truthful in my report regarding what happened."

Prowl thought about that for a long moment. Did he believe that Hound's promise was worth anything? Conversely, for what reason did Hound have to believe him? And yet he had cooperated back in the Decepticon interrogation cell. He continued to let Prowl lead them back to Iacon, though Prowl felt that was a defensive move as well.

Still, it was evidence that even though Hound was angry at him, he had not completely lost the trust the scout had decided to give him. Perhaps, just perhaps, a little trust received merited a little trust given.

He answered softly. "I appreciate that, Hound."

"Doesn't mean it'll make a difference." Hound warned, sounding as if he was disconcerted by Prowl's expression of gratitude. As if he had expected a different reaction.

"I promised to submit to disciplinary measures." Prowl reminded him quietly, reminding himself that, until notified otherwise, he was probably going to be seen as having violated his parole. "I struck a commanding officer. I know there will be ramifications."

Hound's only reply was a noncommittal huff of air.

And that was the extent of their voluntary communications until they reached the gates of Iacon two orns later.

… … …

They slowed to a halt outside Iacon's main entrance and then transformed. Hound staggered slightly, but not nearly as much as he would have had Prowl not patched his leg. Prowl stood silently as Hound gave his authorization codes to the sentry.

"My communications systems have taken damage." Hound said after the official check-in was completed. "Please notify the command team that we have important intelligence to report."

All business, the sentry nodded and Hound continued. "Also notify them that we have an… issue."

The sentry was silent for a moment as he passed on the message, then his optics refocused on Hound and Prowl. "Both of you are to proceed to briefing room Thirty-two Bravo. Ratchet will meet you there."

Hound acknowledged the order and then cast a significant look at Prowl. Prowl dipped his doorwings deferentially when Hound's optics narrowed.

The sentry clearly saw the exchange because he turned his attention back to Hound and cleared his vents to reclaim the scout's attention. "Red Alert also said that if the issue is the 'Con defector, put him in stasis cuffs."

Hound released air in a heated hiss through his vents and hesitated a moment then silently held his hand out toward the sentry for a pair of cuffs. Simultaneously, Prowl's armor flared, his doorwings flicking slightly before he could regain control.

Apparently his suspicion was correct. Despite having expected something like this, Prowl struggled to accept his fate.

Even so, Prowl did nothing more than suck in a draft of air as he allowed himself to be restrained without protest. He hissed sharply as the electricity arced into his frame, paralyzing his arms. Unlike before, the pain did not fade this time, meaning that they were set at the highest possible setting. He was unsure if Hound was aware of that fact and chose not to say anything just in case it was intended. Hound had been witness to his fighting ability and could easily see a need to take extra precautions, especially as the scout himself was unarmed and they were heading to a meeting with the Autobot senior command.

As painful as it was to admit, Prowl knew he might very well have done the same thing had their places been reversed.

Thankfully, the halls of the base were not heavily crowded that early in the orn, so there were not as many eyewitnesses to his embarrassing march through the corridors as there could have been. That fact allowed Prowl to notice other things. The hand that Hound placed on his arm to guide him, the way the other mech had placed the cuffs... the whole thing had been professional, firm, familiar…

Prowl blinked, looking over at Hound. "You were an enforcer… before the war?"

Hound glanced over at him. "From Tyger Pax. Street patrol."

Prowl nodded, looking back the direction they were going. It was one more thing he now knew about Hound and he had no need to press for anything further, especially knowing how reluctant Hound was about sharing his past. It did explain some things, including why the cuffs were set to full strength.

They arrived at the briefing room within breems to find the Prime, Ironhide, Jazz, Ratchet, Red Alert, Smokescreen and Blaster were all there to greet them. All of the assembled mechs reacted to the sight of Prowl bound by stasis cuffs.

Blaster blinked rapidly a couple of times. Smokescreen straightened, his optics narrowing while Red Alert smirked slightly as if pleased either that his suspicion had been confirmed or that his anticipated betrayal had been caught before real damage could be done. Only Ratchet, Jazz and Ironhide appeared openly unhappy, though the exact cause for that unhappiness was unclear. Prowl could guess, and it made him slightly more nervous.

Optimus looked truly surprised more than anything, though it was not so much his expression as it was just a tangible feeling that radiated off of him.

"What happened?" Optimus demanded in a deep rumble, not directing either of them to a chair.

Hound hesitated slightly at the tone in Optimus' voice and Red Alert looked at his leader briefly in surprise. Then the olive green scout hastily provided his report.

Prowl waited patiently, focusing on Hound to distract himself from the burning discomfort in his arms, listening as his mission commander spoke. True to his word two orns ago, Hound was completely and totally honest, sparing no significant detail. First he shared all the important tactical data they had gathered and then proceeded to explain the incident. He admitted it was Prowl's suggestion that the Praxian be the one to get closer, but that he did not trust the tactician not to return to the Decepticons. He explained how the Decepticons found him and what they did to him and then how Prowl got him out.

Optics shifted to Prowl as the story progressed and then snapped back to the scout as Hound also detailed the physical punishment he had already delivered to Prowl. He ended his spiel by acknowledging, suddenly sounding a hair sheepish, "Prowl was then able to temporarily patch the wound on my leg."

Red Alert was looking almost befuddled as he glanced between former Decepticon and Autobot scout. Ironhide looked ready to burst with something akin to extreme irritation, though his gaze was focused on Hound. Ratchet appeared to be struggling to decide whether to try and fix their damages or throw a wrench at them. Jazz's expression was hidden behind his visor but even Prowl could tell it was not pleasant. Blaster simply looked like he wished he were elsewhere at the moment, warily glancing among his comrades.

Optimus looked at Hound, who straightened under his leader's intense gaze, shifting his weight slightly from pede to pede.

"Do you have anything to add?" Optimus asked coolly, shifting his focus, and everyone's in the room, to Prowl.

Sensing the increasing tension and building agitation in the leading Autobots and, not having a clear understanding of exactly what it was directed at, Prowl knew better than to try and equivocate. Not that his new ethical program would have allowed that option in any case.

He spoke evenly. "Hound speaks the truth. I contest nothing he has said. While I regret what I did, I acted in the way that presented the highest probability of both of us surviving. I… I make no excuses for my behavior and I make no plea. I will not shirk responsibility for my actions."

He bowed his helm when he was finished speaking, knowing his words could easily be taken as a confession. That was why he did not see the way Hound looked at him: as if he had never truly seen him until that moment.

"Do you need those cuffs, Prowl?" Optimus asked softly.

The question caused a quiet stir in the other Autobots, but Prowl only looked up, slowly searching the Prime's gaze. After a sparkbeat he shook his helm. "No, sir. I have never needed them."

"Hound." With a jerk of his head, Optimus indicated what he wanted done.

Hound wasted no time in reaching forward to disable and remove the stasis cuffs. Prowl could not help the hiss that escaped his vents as the painful, paralyzing electricity suddenly cut off.

Red Alert reached out and snagged the cuffs from Hound's hands. "These were set on their strongest setting."

A susurration of surprised noises circled the conference table.

"What is the meaning of that?" Optimus demanded, his engine revving angrily.

Hound was clearly caught off guard by their reaction and as such was not able to immediately give an answer. Taking pity on the mech who's reactions he felt he understood rather well, Prowl answered for him. "Standard procedure among street patrols before the war, sir. Whenever apprehending a potentially dangerous and armed mech, cuffs would be used at their highest setting as that is the only setting that can successfully penetrate any dampener the suspect might be using."

Hound blinked at Prowl, then hastily looked back at the Prime. "He's right sir; it was habit… I, I didn't even think about it."

"I see." Optimus relaxed slightly and then focused on Prowl again. "And what do you believe should be done now?"

Now it was Prowl's turn to blink at being asked such a question. Recovering swiftly. Prowl recalled the appropriate regulations as he had read them. It was a question he himself had pondered often during the drive back to Iacon and he was nowhere closer to a definitive answer than he was before. Because as clear as the regulations were…

"There is some gray in the regulations on this matter, Prime." Prowl thoughtfully reported. "As a POW, my fate rests solely in your hands, sir, under Articles of War 304-2, paragraph 3. However, for a normal Autobot soldier, it would default to Hound, as mission commander under Field Disciplinary Protocol 8 subsection 3. Unless, of course he chose to defer that right, in which case it would revert to either the Prime or his Second in Command. However, strictly speaking, there is nothing in the regulations that cover a situation where a POW is operating under the direct command structure as a normal Autobot soldier. So, according to General Operating Protocol 362.15, subsection A, paragraph 5.3, as Prime, you may make the decision as to which regulation to proceed under."

Everyone in the chamber was now staring at Prowl as if he had just formatted another helm onto his frame… backwards.

Ironhide found his voice first. "How would you know something like that?"

Prowl blinked with surprise at the large black mech's obvious shock. "Jazz gave me a datapad my first orn on parole and told me to have it finished by my first evaluation session with you."

"There were over 800 regulations and procedures on that datapad." Jazz was staring at him from behind his visor.

Prowl nodded, even more confused. "Yes, and while I was unable to finish reading them within the timeframe specified, I did complete them over the next few orn." They continued to stare at him, so Prowl cleared his vents. "My understanding of that part of the integration process was that it was to see if I would be able to adapt to and follow Autobot regulations and protocol. Something I could not do if I did not become familiar with them."

Optimus waved that comment away, his gaze somehow growing even more intense. "Regulations aside, I want to know what you believe should be done."

Prowl's systems froze and he had to replay the audio file of that comment to ensure he had heard it correctly. Even so he was unable to process the question, or why he was even being asked such a thing. It did not help that everyone in the room was watching him, with careful wariness. Even Jazz was more guarded now than he had been.

Prowl spoke slowly, measuring his words carefully. "You wish to know what I would choose to do where it my decision and some other mech were in my place?"

Optimus nodded.

Prowl took his time to consider the question again, then he looked up, his ruby optics just as serious as the Prime's cerulean ones. He kept his focus on those calm oceans of serenity, speaking slowly and evenly. "Considering the extenuating circumstances surrounding the assault and the results achieved by it, I would defer that judgment to the one most directly affected: Hound."

Every Autobot in the room stared at him as if they could not quite believe what he had said, that he had not demanded leniency based on the fact he had saved Hound's life. Hound's look slowly morphed from shocked to thoughtful to slightly chagrined, but Prowl did not see that as he kept his focus on Optimus.

After a long moment, what looked like an infinitesimally brief, approving smile flicked over the Prime's faceplate before he turned his gaze onto the scout. "Hound, what are your thoughts?"

Hound did not answer right away, continuing to study the Praxian. Finally he cleared his vents, still not looking away from Prowl. "That legal mumbo-jumbo... that's why you let me beat on you out there, wasn't it."

Prowl's spinal struts straightened ever so slightly as he shifted his own optics to focus on Hound. "Of course. As mission commander, you were well within your rights."

The two mechs looked at each other for a long moment, slow realization dawning in Hound's cerulean gaze.

"Which is why you… said all of that." Hound looked down briefly, though Prowl was thrown by the seemingly random statement, then the scout looked at Optimus. "You… you are letting me decide, sir?"

Prowl blinked at the sudden earnestness in the scout's tone, as did Optimus. The Prime was a long moment in answering; when he did his words were low and measured. "Within reason. I will not allow him to be offlined or treated with undue harshness seeing as he did rescue you from the Decepticons."

Hound flinched slightly at the pointed but not entirely unkind reminder, though he nodded in rapid agreement. His optics flicked to Prowl and then dropped to his pedes. It was several long moments before he spoke again, his vents heaving, as if he was struggling with what he was about to say.

"You did save my life, even if the method was less than pleasant. It was far better than what they would have done to me. If… if you were any other mech, someone I knew and trusted I… I wouldn't have even thought anything about it." Hound's optics slowly lifted back to Prowl's. "I… kept telling myself I couldn't risk forgetting what you used to be. I didn't even let myself consider the possibility of what you might have become. Thank you, Prowl, for saving my life."

Prowl was momentarily at a loss for words, a hundred different emotions suddenly vying for attention and expression and he struggled not to give place to any of them. His doorwings twitched as he realized distantly that he was now the center of attention.

He cleared his vents and then, when he had regained control, bowed his helm formally. "You are welcome Hound. And… Thank you."

The corner of Hound's lip plate quirked ever so slightly and the stressed flare of his armor slowly relaxed. Likewise, the tension in the briefing room also started to seep out. Blaster seemed the most relieved, though Red Alert was equally relieved as he was still confused. Smokescreen was mostly thoughtful, though his expression was surprisingly closed. Ratchet and Ironhide were both contemplative and watchful. Jazz seemed secretly pleased while Optimus almost radiated contentment, though his outward expression had not changed that much during the entire meeting.

"Prowl…" Optimus' deep baritone voice instantly redrew every mech's attention. "Please understand it is no reflection on your conduct but… standard procedure is for all defectors to have their processor scanned following their return from their first long-term mission."

Prowl nodded with remarkable poise, sensing the tension had skyrocketed with that one, almost hesitantly spoken sentence. "Understood, Prime. I expected as much." He glanced briefly at Jazz. "Is it to be done here and now?"

Optimus opened his mouth to answer, but Ratchet cut him off. "No!"

The CMO looked at the Prime, his entire body cocked challengingly. "They are both going to the med bay. After I'm done with him, you can have Prowl back for that scan. No need to put him through something like that again."

Prowl blinked at the medic then looked back at the Prime. Optimus only shrugged slightly and gestured with two fingers toward the medic as if indicating that once the Hatchet had spoken, who was he to say differently.

Jazz actually chuckled slightly then looked at Prowl. "Once Ratch is through with ya, comm. me and we'll get that scan outta tha way."

Prowl nodded. "Understood, Jazz." He almost left it at that, but something about the silver minibot's expression made him reconsider. He added, speaking slowly, watching Jazz carefully. "I will comply."

Just as he was expecting, the lines of Jazz's frame relaxed ever so slightly. It was clear that while yes, he was apparently earning their trust, at least Jazz still wanted him clearly bound by his new ethical programming in order to have confidence in that trust. That carried with it a whole slew of possible complications for Prowl, but at least it was progress.

Prowl did not have much more time to actively contemplate that development as Ratchet was already on his pedes, ushering him and Hound out the door.

… … …

Hound followed after Ratchet, aware that Prowl was walking right behind him. Before their return to Iacon, having the former Decepticon that close behind him would have made him at least a little nervous. Now, it was not so much nervousness as it was he simply felt disconcerted.

Prowl had appeared, for all intents and purposes, completely emotionless. It was hard enough to trust a former Decepticon, especially one as high ranking as Prowl had been, and when that mech seemed devoid of even normal emotions it was that much harder. Who was to say such mech would even feel a lick of regret at stabbing him in the back?

But Hound had also seen his reaction, as muted as it might have been, when he had apologized. More importantly he had seen the surprise. Surprise that he had not demanded additional punishment. Prowl had given his word that he would submit to disciplinary measures and he had expected severe discipline when he did so.

And then, when the Prime gave Prowl the opportunity to dictate his own pardon, the Praxian had instead put his future back in Hound's hands. With no stipulations, no conditions. While it was true, Optimus had severely limited what he could have done to Prowl; the former Decepticon had not had those guarantees at the time.

Regardless of all of that, Hound had to face the reality Optimus had bluntly reminded him of: Prowl had saved his life. Even after the open displays of distrust, the challenges, Prowl had still rescued him… apparently he had done so even anticipating punishment for his method.

Prowl's transmission echoed again in his processors: I am sorry. I give you my word, I will submit to whatever disciplinary measures you deem appropriate for what I am about to do. And he had done so, even when given the opportunity to avoid it.

That bespoke a character, a level of integrity, Hound would never have suspected a Decepticon, former or otherwise, could possess. Despite how hard he had tried to keep it from happening, Hound felt his previous assumptions about the Praxian fall apart. He could not help but think Prowl truly was, at the very least not a threat, even if he wasn't an Autobot.

As if sensing his internal contemplations, Prowl leaned forward. "Is something wrong, Hound?"

Hound jumped slightly, looking back over his shoulder and then shook his head, rolling the armor on his shoulders to loosen some of the tension in his gears. "Just thinking. Nothing wrong."

Hound paused, but felt he should say more than that, especially seeing as he had given Prowl the silent treatment for nearly five orns after the mech had saved his aft. He cleared his vents. "I… um, I am sorry about smashing your face like that."

He saw Prowl's optic ridge cock, then there was a tiny hint of a smirk that was gone before Hound could properly identify it as such. "Considering what I did to you, I hardly have any reason to complain."

Hound winced but the med bay entrance hissed open, interrupting whatever he might have said. Ratchet pointed to one berth on the right. "Hound, up there." He pointed to another berth, this time on the left. "Prowl, that one."

The two indicated mechs glanced at each other, sharing a slightly amused look before moving to their assigned berths. Ratchet ran a quick but detailed scan over both of them then turned to Hound. "Did any of those 'Con slag heaps try to get into your head?"

Hound shook his helm. "No. I think they were waiting till one of the senior ranking officers onlined the next orn or something. Not that they told me anything."

"At least they didn't hack you," Ratchet grunted and then turned to Prowl. "A cracked mandible hinge is rather delicate work, do you want to wait for me or…?"

Hound watched Ratchet gesture toward First Aid who was starting to make his way toward them. Prowl also glanced that direction and then nodded to Ratchet. "First Aid is welcome to do the work."

"Good." Ratchet gave a single, sharp nod looking at his apprentice. "First Aid! Prowl is yours. Get to work."

"Yes, sir!" First Aid hurried over and Hound watched him run a scan over the tactician then he turned to glance at him. "What happened to you, Hound?"

Hound cleared his vents. "I was captured by 'Con seekers. Prowl got me out."

"Oh." Surprise, tinged with relief, filled First Aid's faceplate. Then he looked at Prowl. "What happened to you?"

Prowl cleared his vents but hesitated, glancing at Hound. The scout realized almost immediately why Prowl hesitated and felt his vents hitch slightly at the polite consideration.

Hound spoke before the Praxian could. "I did."

"What?" First Aid's look turned incredulous.

"I, uh, didn't like the way he got me out of the 'Con's clutches." Hound rubbed at the plating along the back of his neck, feeling his systems heat with embarrassment as First Aid continued to stare at him.

"It was well deserved, First Aid." Prowl cut in, gently touching First Aid's arm.

"Right. Right." First Aid's engine revved and he turned back to his patient.

Hound chose to take his mind off the repairs being done to his own frame by watching the junior medic interact with the former Decepticon. They spoke to each other in soft tones, but Hound was a scout; detecting and deciphering hard to hear sounds was his specialty.

"That hinge is cracked through completely." First Aid murmured. "I don't even know how you can talk with it like that."

"This is hardly the first time I have had a mandible hinge cracked." Prowl replied evenly. "Though it will be the first time I have had medical treatment for it."

First Aid's look of horror and pity were clear to see. "Megatron?" The medic asked softly after a moment.

Prowl made an affirmative noise. "And others. Seeking medical assistance for such a relatively minor injury would be seen as weakness in Decepticon ranks. The weak do not survive there."

No wonder the Praxian had not even balked under his assault, Hound realized, wincing slightly as the tension wires in his leg were spliced back together. Even so, it was a little chilling to be compared to Megatron in any way, even if not directly and not intentionally. Not that Hound could actually contest the comparison, looking back at the whole thing in retrospect.

"Well it has already partially fused out of alignment. It's only a millimeter or two, but it will take longer to heal like that and it will be weaker when it does. To do this right, I'll need to separate the fused segments, realign it and then re-fuse it. It'll hurt, not as bad as a doorwing, but still… even with painkillers." First Aid clasped his hands nervously, looking at Prowl with open anxiousness.

The look that flashed through Prowl's optics was not so much one of fear as it was almost an internal battle over whether or not to trust the young apprentice. Then those doorwings dipped ever so slightly.

Prowl's response was even softer. "Do what you feel you must, First Aid."

It sounded like there was more behind those words than Hound could first identify, the way that First Aid relaxed ever so slightly only confirmed that suspicion. The white and red medic nodded and scurried over to the storage cabinets to gather a couple of tools.

By the time First Aid had returned to Prowl's berth, Hound realized the Praxian had taken up a rather interesting position, with his hands flat on the berth beside his hip joints. It was the deliberateness of the posture that caught Hound's attention. It apparently caught First Aid's attention too, because the junior medic paused noticeably on his return.

Hound saw First Aid shift his weight slightly as if momentarily struggling with a decision and then he shook his helm, stepping closer to Prowl. "That isn't necessary, Prowl. I… appreciate the offer though."

"Are you sure, First Aid?" Prowl asked with calmness that rivaled the Prime's. "Do not feel pressured to accept more than you are comfortable with."

First Aid actually smiled slightly, his frame relaxing noticeably. "I am. I mean I will be… I mean, you aren't a Decepticon right? No need to treat you like one."

"I appreciate that, First Aid." Prowl's words were almost whispered and Hound felt a stab of… guilt? Shame? Surprise?. The feeling, as difficult to define as it was, only strengthened as the Praxian added even softer. "The offer remains, if you change your mind."

The sharp sting as the metal of his abdominal plating was snapped back into proper shape made Hound hiss, flinching openly. He glanced at Ratchet sharply only to receive a cocked optic ridge as if the CMO knew he had been eavesdropping.

"You did that on purpose." Hound accused quietly.

"Of course I did." Ratchet confirmed, moving on to another dent. Hound realized he had totally missed the final repairs to his leg even as the CMO continued. "There is such a thing as medic/patient confidentiality. Leave him be. By all rights he shouldn't even have to be here and you know it."

Hound winced again, though not in physical pain. "Yeah, I know. I overreacted out there. Can you blame me?"

Ratchet snorted, his hands still working busily. "Seeing as how Prowl apparently does not, I couldn't very well do so myself, can I?"

Hound considered that for a moment, optics straying back to the subject of his thoughts, watching as the black and white mech's only reaction to a clearly painful procedure was the occasional grimace and flinch of his doorwings. His overall posture never strayed from that of deliberate, meek submission to the medic's ministrations.

It reminded him poignantly of Prowl's silent surrender to his own assault. It was the same look he had seen in the mech's red optics right after he had downed the Decepticon guards in his cell, and Hound realized with tank-wrenching clarity that Prowl had come into that camp anticipating a violent retribution just for doing what he had to in order to rescue him.

And Hound had doubted him.

"I know that look." Ratchet interrupted his thoughts again. "Stop beating yourself over the helm. There was a reason you were selected to be the one Prowl was sent with. You have only proven that once again, Jazz – the little glitch that he might be – is an excellent judge of character."

Hound cocked an optic ridge this time as Ratchet started working on the dents and scratches marring his faceplate. "Oh? He chose me because I wasn't a good judge of character?"

Ratchet only shook his head. "No. Because he knew you'd be able to see past your preconceptions when confronted with sufficient evidence. You should see it as a compliment, really. Jazz was confident you'd be able to see past your justifiable prejudice and see Prowl for who he has truly become."

Hound blinked at the uncommonly sentimental statement having been delivered with a surprising amount of warmth. "Are you alright, Ratchet?"

"Hmm? Oh. Yes, of course I am." The typical bite to the CMO's tone was back as he snapped the final bit of delicate metal plating on Hound's faceplate back into shape. "And now so are you. One orn of light duty only, due to that leg. After that, full release. If you have any additional trouble, contact me. Now, get out of here."

Well trained in the art of self-preservation, Hound wasted no time in hopping of the berth and hurrying for the exit. Then he hesitated, detouring just enough to pass by where First Aid was just finishing with Prowl.

Prowl looked up at him as he came to a stop. "Hound." Prowl greeted politely enough the scout felt his tanks hitch with renewed guilt.

"Prowl…" Hound hesitated, optics flicking to First Aid briefly, but the junior medic was busily putting away tools and at least gave the appearance of not paying attention. "I just wanted to assure you… next time, I won't loose control like I did this time."

Prowl blinked, clearly surprised. "I… appreciate that."

"You aren't what I expected." Hound wanted to slam his faceplate onto the metal berth for letting such an inane comment slip.

But Prowl simply gave him a tiny half smile. "In a positive way, I hope."

Hound found himself nodding. He opened his mouth to say something but nothing really seemed appropriate. Hound flashed him a smile, but then hurried to resume his hasty exit as he caught sight of Ratchet moving toward them from his peripheral vision. "Good orn, Prowl."

… … …

Prowl watched Hound depart the med bay with all haste, a bemused expression threatening to show on his faceplate. That debriefing had gone nothing like he had expected. It had gone far better than he had let himself hope. It had been a long time since he had dared trust other mechs, let alone a leader as powerful as the Prime. And now, for the second time, the Prime had proven a mech of his word. A mech worthy of his trust.

When he received a nod from First Aid, he slid from the berth and looked up at Ratchet as the CMO approached. He endured the medic's scan without comment, understanding that he would want to check his apprentice's work.

Satisfied, Ratchet crossed his arms over his chassis. "That was quite an injustice you seem to be blowing off with remarkable ease."

Unstated was an obvious question. "Depending on your definition of 'injustice.'" Prowl returned quietly. "I did attack Hound while he was helpless to defend himself. That it was the only option available does not change the fact."

He could not miss the way First Aid started at that statement, but kept his attention focused on the CMO as he continued. "General Conduct Code, 12.06 section A, paragraph 2 specifically prohibits such behavior. There are no mitigating circumstances listed in any relevant regulation. Hound's discipline was not injustice but rather was perfectly applicable under Field Disc…"

"I know, you already referenced those regulations." Those bright cerulean optics sharpened. "Tell me, such a conflict between necessity and violation of regulations could, theoretically affect that instability I detected in your logic interfaces. How are you handling that?"

Prowl blinked, realizing the likely cause behind the stab of pain he had felt over the matter. "There are no lingering effects, if that is what you are asking."

"Hmm. I know you are going to see Jazz for that scan, so I'm not going to press you for another look at your command cortex right now. But I expect you to notify me if you notice any recurrent or new problems."

"Understood, medic." Prowl did his best not to reveal his intense relief at the reprieve, however temporary it might be. He knew he would have no choice but allow the medic inside his head if Ratchet decided he needed to do so, but knowing it was not going to happen immediately was a surprising comfort.

He started to make his way toward the exit but turned back, the inkling of an idea tickling his processors. "When Jazz is finished with me, I would like to discuss something different with you."

Ratchet's optic ridge quirked. "We can discuss anything you wish. Don't automatically expect me to do anything."

Prowl nodded deferentially. "Understood." He looked at Ratchet's apprentice. "Thank you, First Aid."

First Aid just smiled and nodded, turning back to his task of cleaning tools and placing them back in their appropriate storage locations.

Taking his leave from the med bay, Prowl stepped into the corridor. There he paused and took in a long draft of air and activated his comm. system. /Prowl to Jazz./

/Jazz here./ The saboteur's digital voice was almost jaunty. /That took longer than I expected. I was beginnin' ta think ya forgot about me./

Prowl allowed a quiet snort of air through his vents. /You know that is not possible. First Aid is a quick study, but apparently he has not done that many facial reconstructions. I did not wish to rush him./

There was a long, incredulous pause. /Ya let First Aid fix your face? Either Ya're braver than I thought or ya're more daft./

Prowl let out another snort, surprised at how defensive he felt for the young, inexperienced but skilled medic. /First Aid knows more than I believe most give him credit for. He is slower, perhaps, than Ratchet but that is from lack of confidence and practice, not lack of ability. He did a more than adequate job./

/Right. Well, come to my office./ Jazz sent the location information.

Prowl processed the data, laying it over downloaded blueprints of the base and felt his systems hitch. /That is… on the command level./ He transmitted dumbly. /I am not cleared to be in that area./

Memories of Red Alert's attempt to arrest him the first time he did something as innocuous as walk in the halls unescorted flitted through his processor. But Jazz spoke again, dispelling the memories, if not the lingering sense of unease the memories had brought.

/Ya are now. For this at least. Move it./

/Yes, sir./ Prowl replied instinctively to the authoritative bite in Jazz's last words and obediently started making his way that direction.

Despite his misgivings, Prowl was not accosted by security as he exited the lift on the command level. Even so, he could not help the uncharacteristic if very slight hesitation to his movements. Even though he was not stopped, that did not mean that Prowl was not subjected to tense, suspicious even accusatory glares by the mechs he passed in the hallways.

He was admitted to Jazz's office without fanfare and could not quite stop the soft release of air that escaped his vents to have made it without complications. He entered the small room on command and was waved to a seat. The desk Jazz sat behind was, while not exactly neat and orderly, not as chaotic as Prowl might have expected.

Prowl sat as ordered, all the while under the inscrutable, visored gaze of the head of Autobot Special Operations. They both knew why he was there and it made the air tense between them.

Jazz steepled his fingers under his chin leaning on his elbow joints. "So… you impersonated a Decepticon Spec. Ops agent to get Hound out?"

"It was the best way to get into the camp without unwanted complications." Prowl paused, trying to read the other mech, wondering if he had presumptuously concluded he was going to be able to avoid judgment for his actions. "If they had had a sound-proofed room, I would not have laid a hand on him."

Jazz waved that statement away. "Hound dealt with that. It ain't my concern. Knowing that coding of yours like I do, I can't even say I'm surprised ya went after him. I'm actually half inclined ta think ya woulda done it without that programin' too."

Prowl blinked, then nodded his thanks at the off-handed expression of confidence.

Jazz smiled slightly and pushed back from his desk. "Well, might as well get this over with, yeah?"

Prowl nodded again and would have straightened were he not already sitting as straight as he possibly could. With a nearly silent whisper of air through his vents, Prowl granted access to his dataport. He watched Jazz's almost liquid movements as the saboteur slid around to his side of the desk and ruthlessly suppressed the urge to shudder. Prowl tore his gaze off the saboteur then shuttered his optics as Jazz slipped his cable into his port and synched with his processor.

But there was no brutal assault on his firewalls. Instead, Jazz 'waited' patiently for Prowl to lower them on his own. Surprised, Prowl did so quickly, braced for the inevitable invasion.

Except it never came. Instead, Jazz did nothing. Perplexed, Prowl unshuttered his optics, looking up at him.

Seeing his expression, Jazz offered him a tiny smile. "You know what I'm looking for. Show me."

Prowl blinked in surprise at the remarkably polite request. He recovered quickly, but not so quickly that he did not catch Jazz's mild humor at his expense. "Yes, sir."

Doing as asked, Prowl illuminated the pathways to all memory files related to his mission with Hound as well as all related emotional and personal files. Obediently, he left nothing out. Once the pathways were lit, Jazz wasted no time in scanning through them. While the saboteur was fast, it was not the processor-blistering speed he had utilized previously.

To Prowl's further surprise, Jazz did not stray any further into his processor, staying to the highlighted pathways. While one-way connections could never be comfortable, this was the gentlest way one of these scans could be performed. Compared to what Jazz had done previously, it was downright pleasant.

Nevertheless, Jazz was finished within a breem.

"Alright." Jazz unplugged from Prowl's port. "Done. Thank you for your cooperation, Prowler."

Prowl blinked at thefriendly? – tone. It made him momentarily overlook the annoying nickname. "Of course."

"That wasn't what ya were expectin' was it?" Jazz's smirk was unmistakable now.

"Not exactly." Prowl allowed. "Though I am not complaining."

Jazz chuckled, the sound startling Prowl anew. "I imagine not." Then Jazz gave him a shooing gesture. "I happen to know a younglin' who has been anxiously waitin' for ya to come home."

Prowl almost smiled, though whether it was relief that Jazz was finished or that the mech's demeanor was much, much less hostile than their last encounter in the training room, Prowl was not entirely sure. He nodded gratefully and stood. He almost made it to the door when his momentarily scattered wits suddenly reasserted themselves with a vengeance.

He stopped, drawing himself up as he turned back to Jazz. "Why?"

Jazz's lip plate twitched, though Prowl could almost see the knowing twinkle in the silver minibot's gaze, even hidden behind the visor. "Because Prime is right. You aren't a Decepticon. Not sure what yet, but ya're not a 'Con."

… … …

Prowl returned to the med bay directly from Jazz's office. While his processor was, predictably, a touch sore from the scan, the discomfort was miniscule compared to what it could have been. He had Jazz to thank for that because it was much less than what he had feared, considering the angry, desperate internal battle he had witnessed in Jazz when he had offered to let the saboteur scan him following his sparring match with the Prime.

It was a surreal feeling, the same surreal feeling he had felt since stepping into that briefing room and the Prime had asked him if he needed those stasis cuffs. The combination of so many unexpected kindnesses was the only thing that gave Prowl the encouragement to do what he had first contemplated when he had left med bay.

Ratchet greeted him with a bland. "What did you wish to discuss?"

Prowl inclined his head respectfully and gestured to the Decepticon branding on his left shoulder. "The issue I wish to discuss is removing the Decepticon sigils from my armor."

Ratchet blinked, as if caught off guard, then examined the metal on first one shoulder guard and then the other with sensitive fingers. "Hmph. These can't be ground out without dangerously weakening the integrity of the armor. The piece would have to be replaced."

Prowl took this in for an astrosecond and then dipped his helm once again, pushing his disappointment away with practiced ease. "Understood. I shall wait until I am no longer on either parole or probationary status then. Thank you, Ratchet."

Prowl started to turn back toward the door, but the medic spoke again. "I can probably get a special dispensation from the Prime in your case."

Prowl froze, looking down briefly before turning to face the CMO fully. "Unnecessary. The protocol for integrating defectors is clear that non-critical use of resources on their behalf is to be avoided until they are past the probationary phase." He paused. "That would also mean I am to remain with red optics for the foreseeable future as well, I presume."

"Not necessarily." Ratchet gestured him closer to a berth with two fingers. "I can change the settings on the ones you have. Obviously I can't make them blue, but I should be able to get them to a white or yellow color."

Prowl's ruby gaze sharpened at the possibility. He spoke carefully. "I would appreciate that."

With a tiny smile Ratchet gestured him onto the berth. Suddenly struggling with well-ingrained instincts to distrust medics who willingly offered to 'help,' Prowl reminded himself that, like Ratchet had said, the CMO was not a Decepticon butcher, but a trained, professional medic. Ratchet had already helped him once, when he had no reason to do so. Surely that would not change now.

"They need not be made white," He told the medic softly, settling on the metal surface. "For I am not a neutral."

Ratchet nodded his understanding and reached for him. Then blackness.

… … …

Prowl onlined, his chronometer telling him that just under two breems had passed. He blinked, doing a quick systems diagnostic out of ingrained habit, but everything came back clean. Then he gave himself a half-sparked rebuke. He had chosen to trust the Autobots, he would do so until he was given reason not to. That was, after all, what they were doing with him.

Prowl blinked again and focused on Ratchet's, now hovering over him with an almost smug look. For some reason Prowl had the conflicting thought that he should be concerned by what the expression represented and the realization that, for some reason, he was not.

He sat up slowly, keeping his optics on Ratchet as the CMO stepped back to give him space.

"Take a look." Ratchet handed him a metal sheet that was polished to a mirror shine.

Hesitating a moment longer to consider the now openly self-satisfied smirk on Ratchet's faceplate and what it could possibly mean, Prowl gathered his courage. Then he forced himself to take in a draft of air and look at his reflection.

Bright, golden-amber optics stared back at him.


There. A resolution to the cliff hanger of the previous chapter. :) So, things are changing a little for Prowl. Thoughts, comments, anything? Please review.