To everyone who reviewed the last chapter… awesome! The response was much more than I ever anticipated. I never knew angst would garner that many positive reviews. :) Perhaps I should do more of that… Just kidding. The title of the last chapter was "Turning Point" because that was exactly what that situation was. I apologize for not being able to respond to everyone but I have truly enjoyed every review I have gotten. I hate to sound selfish, but I hope this chapter keeps them coming. :D

Oh… I have gone over all the reviews again three times now and I can't find it, but one of you expressed an interest in knowing how Hound would respond to Prowl now. I realized I hadn't actually addressed that in my outline and I thought it was a great idea to include so… You know who you are: Thank you!


Jazz paused three steps into the observation area, his gaze locked onto the rigid flare of Prowl's doorwings. The former Decepticon said nothing, though he had to know he was no longer alone. Pit, Prowl probably even knew who was standing behind him. Slowly, cautiously, Jazz moved closer. While he had not seen the recordings of Prowl's six-joor long fight in the training room, he already heard the rumors about it. He was not a fool and knew the fury that had fueled it should, legitimately, be directed at him.

He stopped again, well outside even the most generous description of 'personal space' and waited. He was not sure what to do now.

Actually, that was not entirely true. He knew what he had to do, he was just not sure how it would be received, especially as the Praxian never even flicked a doorwing to indicate acknowledgement of his presence.

Then those stiff armor plates shifted as the black and white mech released a resigned vent. "Jazz."

His designation was spoken without inflection and it made Jazz wince, wondering just what the other mech expected him to do. At least it was not a gruff dismissal – nor the raging accusation it could have been.

He hesitated an astrosecond longer, then walked a few steps closer, stopping at a respectful distance. "Prowl."

The uneasy silence stretched long between them as Prowl continued to stare out at the night landscape, though Jazz had the distinct impression the Praxian was watching him far more closely than he was the impressive view.

When nothing more was forthcoming, not that Jazz could blame Prowl – though he would have expected at the very least a heated demand to know what he wanted – the saboteur took the initiative. "May I stay?"

Prowl stirred then, shooting him a look that while expressionless was still seething. "It is not like I could keep you from doing so."

Jazz winced minutely at Prowl's patently angry reminder that the tactician was well aware of their respective positions in their relationship. He looked away, not wanting the clearly defensive mech to feel he was being forced "Ya could say no… ya could ask me ta leave. I would."

And that was exactly what Jazz anticipated, knowing that in Prowl's place, he would not want to speak to him again, probably not for a few orns at best. But Jazz knew he would not be able to recharge peacefully unless he at least attempted to set things right with the tactician.

Prowl snorted air through his vents, spinning back to the window, apparently not deeming that promise worth replying to.

Jazz did not move. Was that a dismissal or tacit acceptance of his presence? While he knew it did not really matter, his position as the overseer of the former Decepticon's probation gave him the authority to stay if he wished, he was remarkably reluctant to impose on Prowl any more than necessary. Especially now.

When the Praxian was silent for a whole breem, Jazz took that as permission enough. He shifted forward a half step, hesitating a sparkbeat before he found his voice and said what he had come to say. "I… I was angry. I thought ya had betrayed our trust… my trust… and I was angry and I hurt ya because of it. Because I thought you had wanted all those mechs to be killed. I shouldn't have. I'm sorry."

Prowl turned fully to look at him then, surprised but also angry though he diligently sought to hide both. Jazz could see the warring emotions however and he looked aside as Prowl spoke. "You've seen my ethical coding. That tracer program was designed by you. And you have been in my head enough times to know the truth."

Jazz nodded, not looking up. Prowl was absolutely right. In retrospect, his suspicions had been unsubstantiated from the very beginning. Prowl's was not the first processor he had fragmented in his career, but it was the first time he desperately wished he had not and he was suddenly struck with the strut-deep desire to make sure Prowl understood that fact, even if it changed nothing.

"I should have. I know I don't have an excuse." He admitted, still looking down. "I let anger cloud my judgment and I hurt ya… More than just fragmentin' you're processor, I can see that. Ya trusted me, to give me access like that, and I hurt ya anyway. I was wrong to do it, and I know that." Taking a steadying intake of air, Jazz retracted his visor and lifted his now unmasked optics back to Prowl's. "Ya didn't deserve what I did to ya and I'm sorry."

His own emotions were now open for Prowl to see. Jazz did that intentionally, even if he had to fight back the instinctive unease at being so vulnerable. In his line of work, it was dangerous, but at this moment it felt...right. He had learned to trust such instincts, even if trying to find a rational, systematic reason for them would burn out his logic systems.

Prowl managed to control his own reaction, but Jazz had been in his processor enough times to catch the hints to what he was feeling. He saw the equal parts surprise, shock, irritation and distrust that lingered there.

When the tactician spoke, he was even more inflectionless than before. "So, you are here to ask my forgiveness."

Jazz just managed to avoid recoiling physically as he shuttered his optics at the near accusation. He shook his helm sadly. "No. 'Cause if I did, ya would feel compelled ta give it. I ain't gonna do that to ya." He allowed a wistful smile to touch the corner of his lip plate. "If, however, someorn ya do feel inclined ta forgive me, I would be very grateful."

Prowl blinked at him, clearly not expecting that, and gradually his frame relaxed from its rigid intensity, almost as if a vice had been released from around his spark. By that Jazz knew Prowl understood why he had not asked forgiveness and that he appreciated the consideration in the matter.

"Thank you for that, Jazz." Prowl spoke very softly, almost as if to himself and it was followed by a long pause before golden optics focused fully on him once more. "Perhaps, in time, I will be able to give you what you seek."

It was Jazz's turn to blink. He had not expected even that much. He nodded gratefully. "When it's no longer my job to scan your processor." Prowl dipped his helm a fraction and Jazz dared to relax, dared to hope.

The saboteur flicked a brief smile. "Until then, is it still alright if I ask ya to join me for energon every now and then?"

Prowl's engine made a choking noise and the tactician looked away. Jazz stilled his vents, worried he may have asked for too much. Then Prowl lifted his gaze back up though the experienced spy could not quite discern the emotions he was seeing there.

"I can hardly prevent you from asking." It was said with bland neutrality that was just as hard to read as his expression. It was not a promise that Prowl would accept the invitation, but it did not rule out the possibility either.

After a nanosecond, Jazz decided he had no right to expect more.

Jazz allowed himself to grin, though it was still subdued. "I'll take it." Then he sobered, sensing the tension that still stretched between them and realized he had only made the first tentative steps in breaking it. He had a lot of work to do just to restore their relationship to the strained, uneasy and strange association it had been before.

Jazz released a vent of air. "I'm truly sorry, Prowl." It was lame and he almost winced at how much so. There was no response from the Praxian and Jazz took a step back, figuring he had overstayed his welcome. "Anyway, thanks for lettin' me stay and chat."

Reluctantly, he turned and walked back to the door, his armor heavy across his shoulders. He had almost reached the portal when Prowl called his designation. Surprised, Jazz turned back, hopefulness and trepidation swirling in his still visorless gaze.

Prowl hesitated, his thoughts mostly inward, and then continued. "You did nothing to me today that I did not expect the first time you walked into my cell. I was not expecting it at this late a juncture. I will be more prepared next time."

Jazz winced visibly. He knew it was not a threat, even though it easily could have been and it sent a stab of guilt through his spark. Prowl was expecting similar treatment in the future, should another scan of his processor be ordered. And they both knew one could be.

The look of subdued pain that flashed through Prowl's optics as he acknowledged that reality made Jazz want to melt into the decking in shame and he found himself shaking his helm adamantly. "No. While I might have ta scan ya in the future, I promise I ain't goin' to hurt ya like that again."

Prowl straightened, his optics flashing and Jazz could tell he was struggling to decide whether to believe him. After a handful of seconds Prowl's doorwings slumped just a fraction and the tactician looked away. "I wish I could believe that, Jazz."

It felt like a slap, but Jazz could not deny he deserved it. He nodded, acknowledging Prowl's statement. "You had started to trust me and I betrayed that trust, I know. I'm sorry."

"So am I." Prowl's voice was so low that Jazz almost missed it.

Once the words registered, they filled Jazz simultaneously with sadness and hope. Sadness that he had shattered the fragile trust Prowl had started to give him, possibly destroying any chance for friendship that there might have been. Hope that perhaps Prowl had once desired that friendship as well, and that if that was the case, there was the prospect that he might be willing to try trusting him again.

In that moment Jazz silently vowed that he would not do anything that would violate Prowl's trust again, that he would not jump to conclusions about the mech's loyalties, and that he would even watch Prowl's back if necessary. He could not verbalize words to that effect, not yet and maybe never, but he meant them all the same.

He was not brave enough yet to investigate his motives to closely.

… … …

Prowl arrived at the tactical command the next orn, precisely as ordered, unsure what he would face. If the whispers and stares he had received in the halls on his way to his post were any indication, he doubted it would be pleasant.

All activity in the large room came to a halt as every optic focused on him. His doorwings twitched a millimeter or three before he could stop them, and he glanced around, looking for his former apprentice turned commanding officer.

Smokescreen looked up from where he was peering over a subordinate's shoulder when Prowl entered and their gazes locked. The moment grew incrementally more uneasy until finally the younger tactician seemed to gather his wits and gestured Prowl toward his office.

Privacy. Something Prowl both desired and dreaded for this inevitable encounter.

Nevertheless he gave a crisp nod and obediently walked that direction.

Smokescreen followed, stepping around him after closing and locking the door. Prowl was stiff, bright amber optics staring flatly at his former apprentice as Smokescreen faced him. For a long moment it seemed as if Smokescreen lost himself in that gaze, a gaze that was strikingly similar to the optic color he had utilized before the war.

Prowl's expression changed subtly, almost imperceptibly, and maybe Smokescreen was just imagining it. Those golden optics were still impassive and almost emotionless, but Smokescreen knew Prowl well enough to know that was just a mask. His former mentor was waiting for something in particular and, while his expression was in no way inappropriate, it was more akin to that of a teacher waiting for a student to admit he had done something incredibly stupid rather than simply that of a subordinate waiting for an assignment.

Amazingly, Prowl managed to do both at the same time.

After a long moment, Smokescreen vented a gust of air. "Prowl…"

"Reporting as ordered, sir." Prowl interrupted blandly, though that faintly expectant aspect of his expression did not change.

Smokescreen managed not to wince, realizing his former commander would not make it easy on him to utter the apology, the explanation, he knew common decency demanded of him. He looked away, knowing he did not deserve to have it easy. Even so, another part of his processor argued that there was no need for him to apologize since Prowl had yet to do so for his betrayal.

Finally he forced himself to meet Prowl's intense if still inscrutable amber gaze. This would not be an easy conversation, but it was necessary if they were to be able to work together.

"Prowl, your skills and abilities are needed in this department. I cannot deny that. However, it is also evident there are some unresolved issues we need to address." It came out harsh; not exactly the prelude to the apology he had intended it to be.

Prowl's gaze sharpened minutely. "Indeed. What is it you wish me to address?"

Smokescreen's systems hitched and he had to subdue a frustrated rev of his engine. He might have instinctively tried to prove his command over Prowl when he had first been assigned to his division, but Prowl was now doing almost the exact same thing, except in reverse. Prowl was deliberately positioning himself well below Smokescreen on the command chain, except it was equally clear he wanted nothing more than to chew Smokescreen out.

"About what happened with that last mission…" he hesitated again, trying to gather his resolve and determine how to handle the situation where he was wanting to talk to Prowl more on an equal footing but the other Praxian was determined not to allow himself to be an equal player.

"I accepted full responsibility." Prowl answered tightly into Smokescreen's pause, theunspoken reminder that he had done so on Smokescreen's order feeling like a blow to his faceplate. "Considering what happened, you are well within your legal rights, according to Core Division policy number five hundred and thirty six, paragraph four, to place an official reprimand in my…"

"Prowl, stop it!" Smokescreen snapped.

Obediently, Prowl immediately fell silent, looking at him with that blend of submission and expectation, though now with a hint of worry as well.

"You enjoying making this difficult on me?" He asked, frustrated and not liking the plaintive note his voice had taken on. He turned away from Prowl to pace the short distance to the other wall in his office before turning back. "It's hard enough to apologize without you acting like an aft about it."

Prowl blinked three times in rapid succession. That was clearly not what he had anticipated. Then he lowered his gaze completely, the almost defiant edge leaving his doorwings as something like pain flashed briefly through his optics.

"My apologies, Smokescreen." There was genuine contrition now draped across the lines of Prowl's armor. "I do not mean to make things difficult for you. I never have."

Smokescreen found he almost could not cycle air at the raw pain he heard just underneath the surface of those words. It prompted him to continue, giving him his wits back long enough to speak.

"I let pride blind me." He stated softly, the words strained. "And arrogance. Then I was a coward."

Prowl said nothing as Smokescreen looked away, needing a moment to gather himself. He was neither boastful at the admission nor excited by it. It was an expression Smokescreen remembered well from his early days as an enforcer under Prowl's command and tutelage and while it was distinctly unsettling it was almost… nostalgic.

The younger tactician actually found himself relaxing fractionally, gaining by Prowl's steadiness the confidence that Prowl would be just as fair now as he had always been, even though a part of his processor knew Prowl was not the one in authority here.

But in remembering the good things about his history with Prowl – his strength in leadership and the steadfastness of his personality which Smokescreen had always admired as well as how patient a teacher he had always been – Smokescreen realized just how much of a fool he had been.

Yes, Prowl had betrayed him when he had gone to Megatron, but he had done no less in abusing his position of authority over Prowl when the evidence clearly pointed to the fact Prowl was trying to make amends for his past transgressions.

Prowl was no longer a Decepticon. Even if he was not one in actuality yet, he was an Autobot in spark. He always had been back in Praxus and it made the question of why he would have thought to turn to the Decepticons at all even more a mystery, regardless of whatever logical reasons he might have had.

Smokescreen found himself speaking then, the words spilling out of his spark as if the mech standing in front of him were still a trusted mentor, and he was having to explain his latest gaffe. "At the very least, I should have brought the plan back to you for another review before approving it."

Then it hit Smokescreen with the force of a proverbial blow to his doorwings. It was not just a gaffe; it was a critical mistake that had resulted in many good mechs loosing their lives and with Prowl being hurt in more ways than one. His fault. No wonder Prowl wanted to chew him a new exhaust port. And yet Prowl was here, still willing to work under his command even after that; having all but debased himself to make their relationship work only for Smokescreen to accuse him of being difficult about the matter.

The lump that threatened to back up his energon lines coalesced, making the rest of his words come out in an almost breathless rush. "I failed to take into account the complexity of your tactics and believed they could be effectively adjusted by others who have not had the extensive training and experience you have. But, more than that… I should not have foisted blame onto you."

He waited, vents heaving, for what Prowl's reaction would be, forgetting for the moment that he was the one in command.

Prowl nodded, his posture relaxing ever so slightly and then formally dipped his helm, averting his gaze. The deliberate movements forcibly reminded Smokescreen of the change in their relative positions.

Prowl's words only added to it. "That is true. However, you were also correct to point out that I am not in a position of senior tactician. I should have done a better job of taking that fact into account. Where my negligence has caused reproach on the Tactical Division, I offer my apologies."

The formal apology nearly made Smokescreen's balance systems hitch, as he knew it was not Prowl's fault. It was the type of apology a low ranking mech would offer their department commander; an act that specifically served to reinforce the chain of command for both parties and something in the younger mech rebelled at the idea that Prowl was the one having to make it.

Nevertheless, it reminded him of other pressing issues.

He nodded formally as accepting Prowl's statement was the only thing he could do that would not disgrace either of them further. He spoke slowly, uneasily. "You suggested either limiting your assignments to junior level tasks or assigning you a monitor. Which is your preference?"

Prowl blinked and the tense set of his shoulder plating relaxed a hint more as he realized the choice he was being given and why. "Whichever will best utilize my abilities for your department."

Prowl hesitated, seeing Smokescreen's unease and spoke again, his expression thoughtful and uncertain. "Being a monitor in a situation like this can serve as a tremendous learning opportunity, if one is so inclined. Your staff might not have had a great deal of advanced tactical training, but there is no reason that cannot change."

Smokescreen's optics widened. "It… It would only be until the probationary period is up and you have been given a suitable rank. Then it won't be necessary any more."

Prowl nodded though they both knew that was not saying a whole lot. There was no telling when the others would deem his probationary period over and the lowest rank generally allowed to do senior level work without a monitor was a senior-lieutenant. It could be some time before he was deemed worthy of such a rank, if ever.

Nevertheless, Prowl appreciated the gesture and nodded his grateful understanding.

Smokescreen pursed his lip plates then, thinking. Seeing this, Prowl waited patiently.

True, Smokescreen had allowed pride to keep him from accepting his share of the responsibility until he had seen Prowl suffer because of it. The younger Praxian could easily remember the subdued look of pleading panic he had seen in his former mentor's gaze has he had tried to explain. Then, when that explanation was cut off by Smokescreen… he had accepted full responsibility, even though it was not his to accept.

It was the action of a commander; to accept responsibility for those under their command.

That action had further served to shame Smokescreen. No wonder Prowl had initially come in defensive and overly cautious.

Now that he let himself look at Prowl, the same mech he had once respected and trusted and was honored to be apprenticed to… He could see the older tactician, whiled humbled by his circumstances for sure, was also more solid, as if refined by trials and hardships that Smokescreen could only imagine.

Smokescreen straightened, coming to a decision. Seeing that, Prowl averted his gaze submissively and that only clinched Smokescreen's determination. "Because of me, others have come to doubt you. I want to amend that. We have an operation coming up; retaking one of our outposts in the Centari-tetrax region. I… want you to take lead developing that strategy."

Prowl's gaze shot up, optics wide. "Are you sure, Smokescreen?"

Smokescreen nodded, then smiled asymmetrically. "You were created to be a lead tactician, and a leader. Once your probation is over, once everyone learns to trust you, this office will be yours. Mechs will have to get used to the idea."

Prowl's expression turned wary. "Smokescreen, I don't…"

Smokescreen shook his helm, cutting Prowl off. "I don't mind. Actually, I'm kinda relieved by the idea." He found his hands were fidgeting nervously and forced them back to his sides. "I mean; I'm a diversionary tactician. Leadership was never my intended function. It isn't anything I've really ever wanted. I'm not very good at it and…"

"Smokescreen." Prowl interrupted. "The origin of your programming might be why you find leadership less than satisfactory, but you are learning the task well."

Smokescreen grew still, unable to look at Prowl as his doorwings trembled faintly. Now that he had resolved not to think of Prowl as only being a former Decepticon, he was desperate for the type of encouragement only one's mentor could provide. He ruthlessly choked off the whining noise his engine tried to make, but the question that had been rolling around in his processor since he had joined the Autobots, and especially since Prowl had defected, slipped between his denta despite his efforts.

"Mistakes not withstanding?"

Smokescreen winced internally but could not suck the words back out of the air. He nearly jumped out of his armor when a black hand touched his arm briefly in a gentle request for his attention.

He was more grateful than he would ever be able to put to words when Prowl reacted to his moment of weakness and doubt without scorn. "Your mistakes have come from lack of experience, Smokescreen, not deficiencies in programming. You have the potential…"

Smokescreen found himself shaking his helm. "Maybe, but you are clearly the superior tactician and… I don't know… the balance of natural forces in the universe just seem off with me being the commander."

He said it with a self-depreciating chuckle, but he was more serious than he wanted anyone to know. Then he straightened, regaining control.

Sensing that, Prowl dropped his own hand back to his side and waited. "You should be a senior tactician, regardless of your history, and everyone else will come to realize that too. That is another reason I want you taking the lead on this assignment."

Prowl considered the younger mech silently, a touch bemused. Smokescreen might not have been programmed to be a leader, but experience was teaching him to become one.

Prowl nodded, accepting the change in topic. "Very well. Who will my monitor be?"

A simple question that should have been simple to answer, but Smokescreen's doorwings twitched uneasily with renewed nervousness. Then he stiffened and spoke with determination, as if anticipating objections from Prowl. "I am going to be your monitor."

Prowl accepted that ultimatum without showing any of his reaction, which was actually that of faint relief. "Very well."

Smokescreen blinked, loosing the firmness of command. "You…don't mind?"

Prowl allowed a lip plate to twitch. "You are the Department Commander now. You have listened to my objections and recommendations, and have made your decision. I…"

"No!" Smokescreen shook his helm, almost frantic. "I mean… you don't mind me being in your head for this?"

Prowl sucked in a draft of air, realizing what Smokescreen was actually asking. "I would not have recommended it if I were not at least resigned to it."

"That is not very enthusiastic."

"It is not a very pleasant experience." Prowl acknowledged. "Your presence is at least familiar and not likely to be as disruptive as others." He paused, considering his former apprentice carefully and then added much softer, almost tentatively, as if not wanting to overstep. "It remains true that this can still be a learning opportunity."

Smokescreen's systems stalled as he stared at Prowl with wide optics. "You… you would do that, even for me?"

Prowl's faceplate remained impassive and he spoke slowly, carefully, not wanting to presume too much. "At one time you were my apprentice. That fact will never change and I am not averse to helping you learn as much as I am able. When do you wish to start?"

It took a moment but a ghost of a smile slowly stretched across Smokescreen's faceplate and he straightened, slipping back into 'department leader' mode. He gestured back into the main tactical center. "Now."

Prowl gave a tiny, acknowledging bow and proceeded the younger mech from his office. Smokescreen led him, not to the centralized console, but to one of the five adjacent primary terminals.

Prowl was aware of the intermittent looks the other Autobots were giving them, but did his best to ignore them as he settled into one of the chairs at the terminal. Smokescreen pulled something out of subspace and when he placed it on the desk in front of him, Prowl could see it was a data hub. He glanced up at Smokescreen.

The white and gray Praxian gave him a partial smile. "I talked to Wheeljack and he made this for us. It's like a regular hub but it has a buffer so that, at least in theory, you shouldn't have to worry about processor aches because of necessity."

Optics widening a hair before he caught them, Prowl indicated his understanding as he accepted the appropriate cord. "I appreciate that. Thank you."

Smokescreen grimaced. "Don't thank me unless it works."

Prowl cocked an optic ridge. "As you wish. Shall we begin?"

At the other tactician's nod, Prowl inserted the cord into his port and allowed the hub to synch with his CPU. A moment later, at his nod, he could feel Smokescreen likewise synch with the hub.

"Are you familiar with the protocol for monitoring scenarios such as this?" Smokescreen asked, all business, his fingers hovering over the computer's controls.

Prowl nodded. "I am."

So saying he obediently dropped the outermost layer of his primary firewalls and created an opening through which Smokescreen would be able to monitor and access the parts of his processor that would be used during this analysis. Interestingly, his former apprentice's presence seemed more distant than it should, the discomfort such a one-way connection typically caused buffered by the hub.

Prowl met his former apprentice's expectant look and nodded. "The buffering modification appears to be functioning as designed. Are you able to access what you need?"

In response, he felt Smokescreen quickly 'examine' his evaluation of the hub and yet the typical discomfort that would have accompanied such an action was drastically less than what it would have otherwise been. It did not mean that after an orn of functioning through the hub that he would not have a processor ache, it only meant that that ache would be tolerable rather than the blistering pain he had anticipated.

Smokescreen nodded. "I think it works."

"Give Wheeljack my thanks then." Prowl intoned.

"I shall." Smokescreen smiled widely and then signaled the terminal. An instant later, data started flowing through it.

… … …

After spending the orn in tactical with Smokescreen Prowl had to admit, at least to himself, that he was more relaxed about his assignment than he had been before. Not that he expected his relationship with Smokescreen would be easy, but he was growing confident it would be functional.

At the end of the shift, Prowl waited politely until Smokescreen had disconnected from the hub before doing likewise. Despite the way the orn had started, Prowl felt oddly refreshed after being allowed to perform his function without restrictions, even if he had to have a monitor to do so. His frustration was dramatically reduced, leaving him feeling more amiable than he would have imagined possible at this time the previous orn.

The primary tactical staff were clearing out of the tactical center as the shift ended, leaving Prowl and Smokescreen relatively alone once again. Prowl felt he needed to say something.

"Thank you, Smokescreen."

The Autobot glanced at him, startled. "For what?"

"For trusting me in this manner, for taking a chance." Prowl hesitated, then gestured toward the now deactivated console.

"I am hardly taking a chance." Smokescreen hedged, looking anywhere but at him. "I know this is what you do best."

Prowl frowned, troubled that, Smokescreen seemed so uneasy and tentative and put two fingers on him arm to get the younger mech to look up at him. "Considering what happened last time, considering everyone else's opinion of me, it is a relatively substantial personal risk."

Prowl searched his former apprentice's gaze for a moment before continuing. "I should not have abandoned you as I did. I made what seemed, at the time, to be a logical choice. But I was wrong."

Smokescreen blinked and then shifted his weight. "Why did you join Megatron?"

It was asked with simple – if intense – curiosity, not the accusation Prowl would have expected. "I wanted to end the war quickly. At the time Megatron seemed like the best choice toward that end."

"He would prefer to destroy what he cannot control." Smokescreen replied tersely.

Prowl nodded, looking away and letting his hand fall back to his side. "And does not worry about destroying those whom he does control."

After a moment of silence, Smokescreen's light touch to his arm brought Prowl's attention back up. "Hey, he's charismatic. He managed to convince a lot of mechs to the legitimacy of his cause. That he lied about his true intentions isn't your fault…"

"I saw the warning signs." Prowl objected softly, interrupting Smokescreen. "The same as you did. I chose to ignore them for the sake of expediency. Then it was simply easier to keep my denta shut in order to survive, and each time it became easier to overlook the atrocities I was helping to perpetrate until I was so enmeshed that there was no way out."

"But you are here now." Smokescreen disagreed.

"I am here because Megatron decided I had ceased to be of value to him and thought to have me killed in Praxus." Prowl shook his helm. "It finally opened my optics and gave me an easy way out."

"Easy?" Incredulity raised the pitch of Smokescreen's voice as well as both optic ridges. Nothing about Prowl's experience since coming to Iacon could accurately be called 'easy'.

Prowl quirked the corner of his lip plate. "All I had to do was surrender. I knew that alone would take me out of Megatron's control and assist the effort toward his defeat." His half-smirk fell. "It was all I could hope for at the time, but even deactivation or forced stasis was preferable to helping further the Decepticon's cause, especially after Praxus."

Smokescreen looked at Prowl, unable to speak for a long moment, realizing that while Prowl might not have apologized personally for betraying him, his every act since defecting – and his defection itself – was n act of reparation. Every hardship he embraced, every accusation he endured… even his willingness to submit to one who has once his apprentice.

The younger tactician's optics softened as he regarded his former mentor with fresh optics. Prowl was surprised to see the warmth that transformed Smokescreen's expression.

"I understand." The white hand on Prowl's arm tightened fractionally. "Thank you. I am glad you are finally on our side now; where you should be."

The remaining tension in Prowl's frame eased, and those stiff doorwings dipped in gratitude. The two mechs exchanged a look and both knew, though neither said anything out loud, that the vast rift in their relationship was much smaller than in had been only an orn before.

Shortly after that Prowl was leaving the tactical command, on his way to pick up Bluestreak from Ironhide. He did not doubt that the youngling would be worried about him, as he had not come by the previous night, and was working on what he would say to the little one even as he triggered the entry request chime.

Ironhide was the one who answered the request, greeting him with some reserve. The large black mech's open wariness reminded Prowl that not everyone would warm to him as quickly as Smokescreen had.

Movement behind Ironhide drew his attention to Chromia, who also took up a subtly defensive posture.

They did not know what to expect from him, Prowl realized.

The quiet, almost warning rev of Ironhide's engine redrew Prowl's focus and he felt his armor tighten against his frame. Still the weapon specialist did not seem like he quite knew how to address him. Prowl waited, very much aware of his place, reminded how antagonistic Ironhide had still been when he had left the briefing room.

The unofficial standoff continued until Bluestreak approached, almost tentatively. He glanced hesitantly up at Ironhide and Chromia as he edged around them to lightly touch Prowl's leg.

It was not the overtly enthusiastic greeting the tactician had grown to expect and that worried him.

Deciding to ignore the two adults, he turned his gaze onto Bluestreak and knelt, bringing them optic-to-optic.

Bluestreak did not speak at first, he just reached up and almost shyly put a hand on Prowl's chassis, blue optics quickly roving over him. "Ironhide said you were hurt, that you had something done to your processor that hurt you and that you needed time to recover."

Prowl blinked. "He was right."

"You said you would not get hurt here on the base. You, Ratchet, First Aid and Chromia all said you wouldn't get hurt here." The accusation was tinged with pain at the perceived deception.

Prowl's tanks churned. "That was what we believed at the time. It…" He thought about Jazz's promise and wanted trust it, even if he was not confident he could. "It shouldn't happen again."

"What… what happened?"

Prowl released a vent of air. "Bluestreak… it is something I will need to explain once you are more mature." He winced at how pathetic a copout that sounded like and tried again. "It was a misunderstanding. A legitimate misunderstanding. Based on that, the treatment I received was… less than pleasant. But the situation has been resolved."

Bluestreak's lower lip plate quivered. "Ironhide said… whatever it was… that it made you act mean; that you weren't safe to be around."

Prowl stared, feeling like he had just been hit in the abdominal plating by a constructicon's pile driver and he had to resist the urge to glare at Ironhide. He had been dangerous for six joors and knew he could not contest that. It was why he had not wanted to allow himself to be in custody of Bluestreak until he had regained control.

Instead, Prowl gently placed a hand on a smaller shoulder. "I was angry, and I needed time to work through that. But you would never have been in danger."

"Then why? Don't you want me?"

Prowl stared, barely able to stop the whine his engine wanted to make as it felt like his spark was being twisted and sucked out of his frame. He ignored the twin angry growls of warning the two other adults made as he carefully tipped his helm down, to touch the base of his chevron against the tip of Bluestreak's helm.

Prowl shuttered his optics, speaking quietly, but the apology in his tone was clear. "I… I did not want you to see me like that. I did not want you to witness my loss of control, only because I did not want to frighten you. Nothing more."

Bluestreak's own optics shuttered and he leaned his helm against Prowl soaking up that reserved show of affection that was exactly what he needed. The moment stretched and Prowl waited, resolved not to be the one to break the contact.

"Okay." Bluestreak breathed nearly a half breem later. "Can I go home now?"

"Yes." It came out sounding choked and Prowl cleared his vents.

The youngling trilled with relieved happiness and reached up to loop his arms around Prowl's neck. It took Prowl a moment to figure out what Bluestreak intended, but once he did, he stood. Hooking an arm around the youngling as the little one curled up against him, Prowl faced the two Autobots.

Prowl's golden optics glinted. For the sake of young and impressionable audios, he initiated a comm. signal, including both sparkmates. /Ironhide, I would appreciate it if, in the future, you refrained from trying to make him afraid of me./

Ironhide did not back down, his engine growling lowly, but not enough to disturb the youngling. /Yet you denied you were dangerous to him./

The implication was that he was lying. Prowl let his engine rev lightly. /I did not attack those directly responsible. Why would I displace that anger on an innocent sparkling? On the only one on this base who never wanted to hurt me?/

Ironhide returned his glare for a long time, but this time, Prowl did not back down. His guardian subroutines might not be running, but Jazz had confirmed that was exactly what he was. He had the right here and he took it.

Finally, Ironhide's armor lost its borderline aggressive flare, flattening against his frame a fraction as air hissed through his vents. He looked away, lowering his gaze a non-threateningly . /I see your point. It won't happen again./

It was not an apology, but then Prowl would have been surprised if the burly mech had offered one. He nodded, accepting the other mech's statement at face value, realizing then that he did trust Ironhide to abide by his promise, and allowed his own frame to relax back into a posture that signified he again acknowledged the black mech's authority over him.

He nodded, dipping his helm formally to each of them. "Thank you Ironhide, for watching Bluestreak for me. Chromia."

Ironhide returned the gesture while Chromia gave him a somewhat stiff, "Prowl."

For a moment, Prowl worried that he might have just made his relationship with Ironhide and Chromia that much more difficult. Then he decided it did not matter and turned walk down the corridor.

"Prowl." Bluestreak's troubled voice immediately redrew all his attention as they reached the door of their chamber. "Why would Ironhide lie to me?"

Prowl's steps almost faultered as he reached his door. He looked down at the youngling and released a vent of air. "I do not think Ironhide saw it as a lie." He finally verbalized a reality he was beginning to accept. "He likely believed I was truly dangerous."

"Why?" Bluestreak asked as the door slid shut behind them. "Was it because you were hurt?" Prowl nodded and Bluestreak continued. "Why were you hurt? What happened? You weren't in battle so it had to be someone on base. But why? Was it because no one trusts you? I thought they were starting to trust you."

Prowl released another system full of warm air. "Yes. That is a good deduction, Bluestreak."

"So, what happened?"

Prowl's processor spun rapidly, trying to find a safe way to explain, painfully aware of the monitoring equipment spotted around his quarters, made almost impossible to ignore thanks to his new doorwings. He spoke softly, voice carefully free of inflection. "I was accused of doing something, something that resulted in many mechs getting hurt, and I was treated accordingly. However, the accusation was made in error."

Bluestreak pushed away from his chassis, thinking hard. "That was why you were angry, because of the false accusation. Not just because you were hurt."

"Yes." Prowl could not help the tiny hint of a smile at the youngling's ability to read him and to reason out such things.

"Are you still angry?" Hopeful blue optics peered up at him hesitantly.

Prowl did not reply immediately, wanting to give the youngling an honest answer. To his own surprise, Prowl realized that most if not all of his anger at what had happened had dissipated at some point during the orn. Hurt, disappointment, sadness, frustration and despair… all of those remained to some degree, but anger and fury were no longer part of the mix.

He shook his helm. "No, Bluestreak. I am not angry. Nor do I wish for you to be angry either. Everyone makes mistakes at times and, just as we might wish to be forgiven for our own errors, so must we be willing to forgive others who err against us."

Bluestreak considered that and then curled back against him. "Alright. I'll try." He was quiet for a long moment. "Prowl?"

"Yes Bluestreak?" Prowl asked, sliding into his chair.

"I want some more energon. Do… do you mind taking me to get some?"

Prowl straightened, looking down at his young charge. A sudden increase in fuel demands was one of the signs indicating time for a frame upgrade was approaching. He would need to keep a diligent optic out for other indicators. Similarly, the obvious ability for Bluestreak to reason out why Prowl might be hesitant to go back into a public setting and his concern about asking prowl to do something that might be unpleasant was a clear indication of increasing maturity.

Despite the reticence he had about venturing into such a public facility under normal circumstances, let alone the events of the last few orn, Prowl would not deny Bluestreak if he needed the fuel. He nodded and stood.

"Of course, Bluestreak." He answered, heading for the door.

Thankfully, while not completely empty, the rec room was not overly crowded. That did not stop the comments and the stares that followed them. Bluestreak, aware of the unpleasant attention stayed close to Prowl.

He procured a cube for Bluestreak, handing the smaller container to the youngling, then got one for himself. The youngling followed him wordlessly to a side table. Prowl sat down with his back to the wall in a subtle compliance with self-preservation subroutines that were notifying him of the potentially threatening situation he was in. Bluestreak sat next to him rather than across and Prowl glanced down at the blue and gray sparkling in question.

Bluestreak smiled weakly. "I know you don't like being here. We can leave."

Prowl allowed his expression to ease reassuringly. "There is no need, not until we are finished as we are already here. Mechs will say what they wish." He considered the youngling for moment then leaned a little closer, lowering his voice. "Turn down your audios if it bothers you."

As if hearing his almost whispered words, the muttering and whispered speculations only picked up momentum. Interestingly, not all were blisteringly negative, even if most were suspicious. Nevertheless, Prowl suspected Bluestreak's presence was the only reason they were not more biting. With a resigned ex-vent Prowl turned down his audios, despite the calculated danger of doing so in a potentially hostile environment. He would not be able to defend himself anyway, so it made little difference. He also refrained from attempting to identify spark signatures. The only thing he bothered to monitor in the slowly growing crowd in the rec room was the number and faction ID of the mechs present.

It might have been an action of self preservation – an effort to prevent himself from being overwhelmed by the hostility. Or it could have been an intentional method of helping him maintain his objectivity in that he would be planning an operation that might very well endanger some of these mechs and he did not even want to give himself the opportunity to make decisions based on insulting comments he might overhear. Prowl was not sure. Nor was he sure it even mattered.

Bluestreak apparently chose not to heed his advice and shifted closer to Prowl. He looked around warily and looked up at his guardian. "They… they don't really know what to think. Do they?"

Prowl resisted the urge to snort air through his vents. He opened his mouth to reply when a familiar sparksignature registered on his scanners only a moment before Hound's voice filled his audios.

"He's right. I'm not sure what I should think, at least."

"Hound." Prowl greeted respectfully, standing. He was remotely aware Bluestreak sank lower in his chair, probably feeling the seriousness of the situation.

The two adults considered each other for a long moment before Prowl continued cautiously. "Is there something I can do to help clarify matters?"

"That depends." Hound did not sound openly antagonistic, but neither was he friendly. Guarded, perhaps.

Sucking in a draft of air, Prowl gestured to the seat across him his. "Please."

"There are some in here who would look poorly on me for sitting with a traitor." Hound spoke softly.

Prowl said nothing, though he put a gentle hand on Bluestreak's shoulder hearing his tiny engine rev angrily at the scout's words.

"If I had truly betrayed the Autobots, do you think the Prime would have allowed me to continue going free?" Prowl asked in equally soft tones.

Hound continued to stand rigidly for a long astrosecond before his frame relaxed perceptibly. "You do have a point there, I guess."

Hound hesitated a moment longer then looked down the chair Prowl had invited him to take. Then he slid into it. Prowl lowered himself back into his own, never taking his optics off the olive-green mech.

Once he was seated, Bluestreak leaned against him, keeping Hound in his sights, looking almost hurt. Hound had been friendly to Prowl before and it troubled him that he was now being borderline hostile.

Hound's optics darted down to the youngling, his trained optics catching the movement and almost instantly interpreting it for what it meant. The plating around his optics tightened with guilt for having troubled the youngling.

When Hound glanced back at Prowl, a silent question in his optics, Prowl nodded his permission and Hound addressed Bluestreak. "I have no ill-intentions towards your guardian, Bluestreak. But the situation is serious and I have some questions I need to ask. Even if they are uncomfortable for him or sound mean, it is much better that I ask them than let the rumors continue to go unchecked. Do you understand that?"

Bluestreak glanced up at Prowl and received silent encouragement. He nodded, but stayed close to Prowl. "Will you believe him? 'Cause I don't see the point if you aren't going to believe what he tells you."

Hound stared, then smiled. "Touché, little one. I can't promise blindly that I'll accept whatever he says, but I give you my word I will listen carefully and take it seriously. Is that acceptable?"

Bluestreak looked at the scout carefully, young optics working up and down his frame. As the youngling turned to glance up at him, Prowl was distantly aware that the murmurs from around the room had fallen silent as the three of them were the focus of everyone's attention. At length Bluestreak nodded, curling back against Prowl's chassis.

Hound smiled weakly and looked up at Prowl, who met his gaze cautiously. After a sparkbeat he older Praxian gave him a silent nod; permission to continue.

With a sigh of air through his vents, Hound leaned forward, resting a hand on the table tapping its surface lightly with each point as if tallying them. "I know that strategy was not the type of thing Smokescreen has ever given us. I've worked with your strategy, in a much more simple situation granted, so I know how effective yours can be. I know you were able to pull out a victory nearly six to one…and in an impromptu situation. Yet this scrapheap of a strategy barely manages to bring anyone home alive. So. Either A) you did this on purpose, in which case you did betray us, B) What happened on our patrol was a fluke and you aren't as good as I thought, or C) Something else happened."

Prowl continued to hold the other mech's gaze for a long time until Hound gestured toward him with the hand that had been tapping the table. "So. How am I doing so far?"

Prowl averted his gaze, lowering it respectfully, and answered. "Your observations are accurate, Hound. I assure you, none of that debacle was done intentionally, by anyone involved."

"So… something else happened?"

"Yes." Prowl's engine choked momentarily at the memory, aware the observant scout probably did not miss the noise. "I did have a hand in the preliminary development of the strategy, but that is where my involvement ended. I do not know more than that. As to whether I intended any duplicity, I can assure you the matter was… thoroughly investigated by both Jazz and Ratchet and that had I been anything but completely innocent I would not be a free mech right now."

"They scanned you, then?" Hound asked quietly.

"Indeed." Prowl could not quite stop his wince at the memory. "What they found satisfied their concerns and gave them the confidence to keep me in the tactical department."

"I see." Hound said thoughtfully. "So… If it wasn't intentional, was it accidental negligence? Inability? Incompetence?"

Prowl refused to take offense, realizing it was a highly legitimate question for a mech who was asked to trust and implement whatever plans he might create in the future.

"I was not in the tactical command during the assault." He said quietly. "I cannot speak for what happened during the attack itself. I do know that those who are in a position to prevent such a disaster in the future know what needs to be done to do so. Mistakes were made, by multiple mechs on more than one level. I do not believe it will be allowed to happen again."

"Mistakes." Hound echoed. "Including you?" When Prowl nodded reluctantly, the scout continued. "What was your mistake?"

Prowl forced himself to meet Hound's searching gaze. "I recommended a plan that was too complex for the experience level of the staff who would be directing the battle."

He intentionally did not mention the inappropriate assignment, refusing to undermine Smokescreen even if it made him look worse. These mechs – Hound and all those listening – needed to be able to trust their Lead Tactician.

"That too is a situation that has been resolved and plans are in motion to improve the training level of the tactical department." He assured softly.

"Meaning, you are probably training them." Hound interpreted, a small quirk to his lip plate.

"As I am able." Prowl conceded.

Hound considered that silently for the span of several astroseconds and Prowl did not press him further, waiting patiently. Finally the bulkier, green mech nodded. "Good enough. Thank you, Prowl."

Prowl nodded formally, even as Hound turned his attention back to Bluestreak. "There. Was that too terrible?"

Bluestreak considered that, glancing up at Prowl again, trying to read his guardian's reaction to the informal interrogation. But Prowl was only looking at him calmly, no apparent discomfort. "I think… I think it was nicer than what they did to him already. At least you didn't hurt him."

"Hurt him…?" Hound turned wide optics back up to Prowl. "What happened?"

Prowl grimaced, suddenly flailing for a way to explain. "You are aware of how uncomfortable a hostile deep processor scan can be?"

"You mean they…?" Blue optics darted down to Bluestreak and Hound cut himself off abruptly. "How bad?"

Prowl released a vent, not happy to be forced into a position of revealing such personal details in such a public setting. "Enough Ratchet saw fit to help me undue what was done."

Hound's stunned silence was echoed by the others in the room. Then, finally, the scout shuddered slightly before giving his helm a tiny shake. "I'm sorry to hear that. I didn't know."

Prowl dared to relax fractionally. "Not surprising. I doubt many except those who were present do."

Prowl watched a kaleidoscope of emotions swirl across Hound's faceplate and suddenly the whole incident was thrown into proper perspective. He continued, speaking gently. "I do not ask for your sympathy Hound. What happened has happened. Had you not inquired I would have said nothing. But rest assured that Prime and the Command Team are not taking my integration into Autobot ranks lightly. They have taken, and will take, all necessary precautions to protect those whom they command. If I have been given any level of trust, it was not given without cause."

Hound continued to look at him for a long moment and then nodded. "Yeah. I get that."

It was probably as close as Prowl would get to acceptance from the Autobot scout. The tactician acknowledged that with a grateful bob of his helm. Hound smiled weakly and returned the gesture.

After another moment, Hound pushed his chair back from the table, and stood. "Thank you Prowl, for taking time to speak with me. I know in your place I wouldn't have wanted to."

Despite not truly enjoying the conversation, Prowl found himself returning Hound's smile with a barely perceptible, self-depreciating one of his own. "One truth of my situation that I accepted some time ago is that what I want seldom has any impact."

Hound frowned. "That's… um, sad."

Prowl allowed one doorwing to shrug a centimeter. "It is reality and will remain so for as long as I am a POW. It does no good to lament something I cannot change and fully understand the necessity of. I knew this the moment I decided to surrender to Ironhide in Praxus."

Hound's armor flared slightly, though not in aggression. When he spoke his voice was touched with a hint of something suspiciously close to awe. "You don't want anyone feeling sorry for you, do you."

For some reason taking confidence in Hound's words – or at least the way they were spoken – Prowl straightened, lifting his chin a fraction, though not with arrogance. "No. I don't."


16DarkMidnight80: In answer to your questions: 1) No, you don't have to pay, the site is free. 2) Yes, you do need an email address to sign up. I wasn't sure what to expect when I did it, so I set up a free email address with yahoo that I use exclusively for FFnet stuff. It works. 3) My experience has been that I have not gotten any personal information about others so I assume it is the same the other way around.