First, I want to apologize for the delay. Fear not, it was in no way a waning interest in the story that caused that delay. I suffered a pinched nerve between my shoulders that made it excruciating to type… spent a week not being able to lift my arms much at all. Ugh! I really, really don't want to go through that again. But I'm back and here is the next update.

Enjoy!


Optimus watched Prowl's almost stony expression and was privileged to witness that careful control thaw into an almost awed relief. It was then that Optimus realized the Praxian had never before dared to let down his guard to that extent – as small as it was – in his presence. Not that he could blame the doorwinged mech. Not at all. And the Prime chose to interpret that new development as a positive one.

When Prowl canted his helm a fraction in a silent question, probably reading something of Optimus' thoughts in his face, Optimus opened his mouth to answer the unspoken question when he received a ping on his internal communications system.

With a quick gesture to the tactician to indicate he was replying to a comm. message, Optimus accessed the signal. /This is Optimus/

/Prime…/ Blaster's digital voice was openly troubled. /I think you should come to the Command Center. We have received a communiqué from Megatron./

Optimus felt his face grow more tense and could not miss how Prowl also tensed in response, becoming cautious and guarded again. He would have to deal with that later. /A live message or a recording?/

/A recording, sir./ Blaster informed him. /But this one was encrypted./

That was different. Usually his brother's messages, intended as morale crushers and propaganda, were transmitted indiscriminately into Autobot territory in an almost reckless desire to get as many Autobots and Neutrals as possible to see them.

But this one was encrypted, likely intended only for his optics. Interesting.

Optimus found himself considering the former Decepticon again, as his processor mulled over the possible reasons for the change. It could be no coincidence that this message came only the orn after the first real Autobot victory in the entire length of the war. Observant as always, Optimus could not help but detect the Praxian's increasing nervousness at his renewed perusal.

Considering what the mech had so recently experienced at their hands, Optimus could hardly fault him. And yet Prowl continued to stand there, silently expectant, waiting for him to make the next move. It spoke almost as much of Prowl's character as how he had handled the many things he had suffered.

Unable to stop the almost bemused expression that claimed his face-plate, he gestured Prowl to follow, turning toward the training room exit. "Come, this should be interesting, and doubtlessly has to do with you."

Prowl frowned in consternation. "Sir?"

Optimus just allowed the smile that was threatening to find purchase on his face to show itself as he turned, repeating gently. "Come."

Quite unsurprisingly, though he was clearly unsure what was going on, Prowl hastened to fall into step a respectable distance behind him. He was close enough to allow easy communication but he also ensured there was just enough distance to make it clear he was not presuming any collegial relationship with the Prime. A purposeful social statement that Optimus would not have demanded, seeing as Prowl had assumed the role of his Circuit Su instructor. Most mechs would have jumped at the opportunity to elevate their own social standing, but Prowl was deliberately avoiding such behavior.

He let a passive scanner run over the mech who was now following him dutifully and could see the subtle hints that the Praxian was anxious.

Interestingly the tactician did not question him further, though he did blink in surprise as Optimus took him to the command level. The Prime also heard a momentary hitch in Prowl's vents as he stepped into the Command Center just behind him.

Of course, Prowl had never been to the Command Center itself. Optimus was impressed that Prowl restrained himself from looking around curiously, though he had no doubt that the mech's doorwings were taking in a large quantity of information, making a visual survey rather redundant.

Nor did it escape the Prime's notice that more than a handful of the mechs stationed in the Command Center reacted with equal nervousness to the former Decepticon's presence. Having schooled himself into a mask of professional coolness however, Prowl did not react to the nervous glances cast his way as he silently followed Optimus to the primary consul located in the front of the chamber. In a strange way, Optimus was struck with the sudden sensation that Prowl belonged there. Not just in the Command Center, but also next to him.

The feeling was so sudden and unexpected, and also so strong that it caught him completely off guard, leaving the Prime a touch shaken.

In all his experience with the Matrix, as admittedly brief as that might be in the grand scheme of Cybertronian history, he had never experienced such a powerful impression from it. It clinched the idea he had been contemplating since Prowl had declared the change in the parameters of his loyalty and his willingness to declare his allegiance to the Autobots. It would not be easy and was not something that would happen quickly, but he knew the first step, and what the Matrix was telling him settled his decision to carry it out sooner rather than later.

But there was something important he had to deal with first. Suppressing a gentle shake of his helm, knowing the gesture would be misunderstood by those around him, Optimus focused back on the immediate task before him.

Optimus looked at the communications specialist. "Blaster, have you decoded the transmission?"

"Of course sir." Blaster responded smartly, almost as if affronted that his abilities would be in doubt.

Optimus was in no way offended by his officer's attitude, and hid his amused smile and nodded seriously. "Then play Megatron's message on the main screen."

Blaster cast a wary glance at Prowl but replied in professionally clipped tones. "Yes, sir."

Within astrosceconds, Megatron's snarling visage materialized on the primary screen. The corner of his lip plate tipped up in a nasty sneer as his gravelly base tone filled the Command Center. "Well played, Optimus. I didn't think that pathetic scrapheap you call an army had it in them to pull off two assaults simultaneously."

That half sneer turned into a full one. "But don't worry, this is but a temporary set back in our efforts to send your kind to oblivion." If were even possible, Megatron's voice deepened as his rage threatened to overcome his thin veneer of civility. "There is only one way you could have pulled something like that off."

A low menacing growl wove through the former Lord Protector's next words. "You have something that belongs to me!"

Then, as if suddenly regaining control, Megatron leaned back, though his dark ruby optics blazed heatedly. "I have received the reports of my spy in your ranks and your temporary pushback against us has only confirmed the accuracy of those reports. The traitor, Prowl, is mine."

Though Prowl did not respond outwardly to those words, Optimus knew his were not the only set of optics that darted to the tactician. It was as if Prowl was forcing himself to maintain a neutral mask as he continued to watch the transmission without open reaction. Even so, Optimus was not so blind as to miss the tightness around the Praxian's optics, or the way his vents were flared minutely, let alone the very faint twitch of his doorwings.

Megatron continued, his voice dark and low, promising all manner of violence. "I want him back, Optimus, and I will get what is mine. Save your puny little underlings and hand him over nicely or I will get him by force. If I have to do that, I promise that innocent energon will be on your hands!"

The image snapped off.

Optimus released a huff of air through his vents, both depressed and gratified that his prediction as to the nature of that transmission was correct. He had wondered when Megatron would become aware of Prowl's defection, apparently it took something dramatic to make him even notice.

Optimus turned to look at Prowl fully, intending to ask for his thoughts, only to find that the Praxian was continuing to stare at the now blank screen, his optics narrowed and unfocused. He was analyzing, Optimus realized; calculating, weighing the evidence.

For a long breem, Optimus said nothing, he just watched Prowl as the tactician worked within the silent confines of his own processor, not wanting to interrupt. Because he was watching closely, Optimus caught the moment Prowl's analysis moved from professional to private contemplation.

"Prowl?" He asked softly, not wanting to startle the smaller mech.

Prowl answered slowly, his gaze still a touch unfocused and he leaned his weight back to cross his arms over his chassis. "He is manipulating you, Prime." There was absolute confidence in Prowl's tone and demeanor as he shifted his gaze to meet Optimus'. "While I cannot say he will not carry through with some sort of assault in an effort to capture me, I can confidently state it is his goal to eventually extinguish every one of the lives he is currently trying to use as leverage against you."

Optimus nodded, unsurprised even if it was painful to admit. "I would expect as much."

Prowl regarded him silently for a brief moment and Optimus wondered if the other mech had picked up on that pain he strove to keep hidden every time he was confronted with the depths of depravity his brother had descended into.

Regardless, Prowl opted to continue without comment or speculation on the matter. "If Barricade's report made it to Megatron's headquarters in Kaon, we can only assume he knows I am here in Iacon."

"What do you think he will do?" Optimus asked softly.

Prowl grimaced. "That depends on how much his anger is overriding his logic centers. The logical course would be to try and take me in the field. The illogical – but definitely not improbable choice – would be an assault here on Iacon." Prowl shook his helm. "But there are multiple avenues he could attempt and the longer he delays, the more thought out it will be. Unfortunately there is not enough data from that message alone to provide any additional insight."

Optimus was quietly pleased when Prowl did not immediately feel the need to apologize for not being able to do more. But then he saw the smaller mech's optics widen with shocked horror as he stiffened perceptibly and immediately dropped his gaze to the floor. It was as if…

Optimus felt his own vent's hitch painfully as he realized what he was seeing in the former Decepticon. It was distressing that Prowl had no reason to expect differently. The Praxian had spoken under the presumption that he would not be handed over to Megatron. It was as if he had not given that assumption a second thought until he was well into his verbal analysis and then had suddenly second-guessed that assumption. Painful as it was to admit, Optimus was well aware he had not yet given the former Enforcer definite assurances in that regard.

It was time to change that.

Optimus straightened and turned to face Prowl more fully and was shaken to his core when Prowl's only response was to duck his chin fractionally and set his doorwings in a respectful, semi-submissive posture. He knew then Prowl would not fight his decision, regardless of how detrimental it was to him personally.

It was that fact in conjunction with the earlier impression from the Matrix that completely solidified the rightness of trusting Prowl's defection; his change of spark and loyalty.

"Prowl…" Though he spoke softly, Prowl flinched minutely. Optimus did not continue until the tactician had lifted his own, resigned amber gaze to his. "Your life is not a bargaining chip. I will not attempt to purchase one life with another. Even if you were a prisoner in our brig, I would not consign you to the fate we all know would await you at his hands. Especially when there is no guarantee his threat will ever result in another life being lost."

Prowl's carefully neutral expression did not change, his voice equally devoid of inflection. "He will not sit quietly and do nothing, Prime. He will seek to avenge my defection."

"Indeed." Optimus agreed easily. "But I believe we have a better chance of defeating that attack with you where you belong; here in Iacon."

It seemed to take an astrosecond for the meaning of those words to sink in, but Optimus could see the moment they did as that ineffable tension suddenly relaxed. Prowl's doorwings dipped minutely as if whatever had been holding them still suddenly let go.

The Praxian released a vent of air. "I appreciate that, Prime."

Optimus smiled faintly. "We will see what intelligence Jazz has or will be able to obtain on the matter." When Prowl's helm dipped almost imperceptibly, Optimus allowed himself to consider his next move.

It would be sudden, perhaps, but he firmly believed it was the right thing to do.

He sent three separate databursts to his most trusted officers, telling them his intentions and what he wanted from them. While Ironhide protested nominally, even he was not as opposed as Optimus had expected. The other two offered nothing more than confirming acknowledgements of the transmission.

Optimus refocused back on Prowl, though in truth the digital 'conversations' had only taken a brief handful of astroseconds. "Until then, there is something you and I must attend to. Come."

Clearly caught off guard once more, Prowl stiffened but mutely followed Optimus from the Command Center. It might have been a touch cruel to not give Prowl any advanced warning, but Optimus wanted his officers to see his reaction without the filter of foreknowledge.

… … …

Prowl followed the Prime from the Command Center, once again being careful to maintain the proper distance between them. He did not know what was expected of him, and that made him nervous, though he diligently sought to prevent any evidence of that anxiety from showing. Optimus had promised that he would not be handed over to Megatron, he seriously doubted whatever he was walking into now would be intentionally detrimental for him.

Prowl's doorwing's twitched at that thought. It was the first time he had allowed himself to honestly believe another's motivations were not harmful toward him. At least since he had joined the Decepticons.

Truly it would be...pleasant… to be part of a command structure where he was not constantly having to watch out for the hidden agendas of others. To be able to actually trust those whom he called his commanders, those who had power over his life.

When they entered the med bay, however, Prowl was tempted to doubt all the comforting conclusions he had let himself develop regarding his immediate future. Especially when he saw that Ironhide, Ratchet and Jazz were there, clearly expecting their arrival.

No. Prowl had made the decision to trust Optimus. He would do so until that trust was actually broken.

When Prowl hesitated a microsecond in the doorway, Optimus leaned down, speaking quietly. "I know you are not one to enjoy a great deal of fanfare, but protocol and custom do require two witnesses for this."

Prowl's alarm flared briefly until he looked up into Optimus' kind optics. They were lit with a warm cerulean fire that was, while tranquil and determined, also a touch excited and pleased. It was not logical that the processor behind such an expression could intend him harm.

Drawing in a deep vent of air, Prowl straightened minutely, setting his doorwings into a politely formal posture as he watched Optimus greet each of the other three Autobots with tiny acknowledging nods.

Then all four focused back on him, the sudden attention – though none of it was immediately hostile – made Prowl stiffen.

However, Optimus spoke before his apprehension could grow, his tone was that of something being spoken for a legal record. At first that fact only made his alarm spike, until the words being spoken by the Prime fully registered.

"Prowl, you have chosen to become and Autobot, to follow a path quite different from the one you have walked as a Decepticon. You have already taken steps to do so, even to your own detriment. However, I would now like to hear a statement of your commitment from you, in your own words."

The expectant silence rang loudly between them and it took almost three astroseconds for Prowl to both fully comprehend what was being asked of him and the full significance of what was about to happen.

The suddenness of it all made his vents stall and he had to clear them. Even so, he lowered his gaze, contemplating his answer. The Prime was speaking for a legal record: his.

Had he been looking at the others, he would have seen the Prime was pleased, that Jazz was smirking minutely, that Ratchet was a touch bemused but also carefully neutral and that Ironhide was actually a hint impressed. No one was surprised at his thoughtful reaction.

Quickly overcoming his initial surprise and rising to the occasion, as was his nature, Prowl lifted his gaze back to the Prime. Unbeknownst to the Praxian, while he allowed his convictions to rise in his spark, the strength of his own, well-hidden, personality broke through the mask of control he had maintained. It filled his armor, giving those watching him a hint of who he might become. A hint of who he truly was.

Prowl continued to meet the Prime's optics with his own as he spoke, well aware that his words would be legally binding as well as binding through his own ethical coding. "Optimus Prime, you are aware of the decisions I have made within the last decavorn as a Decepticon. I… cannot hope that anything I can do will make up for the harm I have done while serving under Megatron's command."

He straightened a fraction more. "All that I can do is give my solemn vow that from this orn forward, protecting not only the value of life but the rights belonging to all individuals will be my highest priority and my greatest mission. This is in adherence to my core programming as an Enforcer. Towards that end, I will join the Autobot cause and pledge to adhere to Autobot protocols and all legal orders of those placed above me in the chain of command." He hesitated half a spark beat. "Until all are one."

It was a modified version of the oath of office he had taken upon assuming his post with the Praxian Enforcer Corps. He waited to see the Prime's reaction

"Until all are one." Optimus murmured softly, accepting his oath.

It was not the swearing of blind fealty but was in accordance with what he had told the Prime in the training room. His careful phrasing allowed him an out from absolute obedience should Optimus, or the Autobots in general, loose their way ethically. And they both knew his ethical programming would hold him to that vow.

A warm smile was slowly spreading over Optimus Prime's faceplate, as if he was actually pleased that Prowl had maintained that strict objectivity. The tactician had no way of knowing that Optimus was, in fact, relieved to know that at least one mech would.

Breaking the silent contact, Optimus glanced at the CMO. "Ratchet?"

Ratchet stepped forward, toward Prowl, and lifted a device Prowl was very familiar with. Thus, instead of looking at the device, Prowl looked at the medic who was wielding it. He had known it was inevitable that he would receive the Autobot insignia once he gave his oath. It appeared that part of the ceremony also required witnesses. It had not been so with the Decepticons.

Prowl came to attention as Ratchet neared, waiting silently as the CMO circled to stand directly in front of him. Nor did he even wince as Ratchet pressed the device against the central armor plate covering his upper chassis, right over his spark chamber.

Beneath the hot iron, white paint boiled and sizzled. Once the paint was gone, leaving bare the living metal underneath, microscopic pores in the brand opened, releasing a very specific chemical mixture that started to bond instantly with the exposed, quickly heating metal. The chemical insured that the metal would be permanently colored red once it cooled.

While he might say the procedure stung, Prowl would not go so far as to say it actually hurt.

Ratchet, skilled medic that he was, knew right when Prowl's armor had reached the precise temperature necessary to ensure a permanent bond with the chemical. At that moment, the branding device was removed. The CMO also had a steady hand, evidenced by the fact that the lines were crisp and clean, the embossed image just the appropriate depth.

Prowl could not help it then. He glanced down at his chassis to look at the red symbol now cooling on his frame. This was not a moment he had expected to see for a very long time.

Ironhide broke the moment by snorting ineloquently. "Well. I never would have seen this coming. At least you're on our side now."

Jazz brushed off Ironhide's brusque words with seemingly practiced ease. "Didn't your creator ever say 'never say never'?" His optics were glinting under his visor. "Welcome aboard Prowler. 'Bout time."

Prowl felt his optic ridge quirk at the nickname but felt it was not appropriate to correct the saboteur in this setting. "Thank you, Jazz."

"I agree." Optimus' words recalled his attention to the Autobot leader. His leader.

The Prime's tone took on a slightly more warning edge as he continued and Prowl ducked his doorwings appropriately. "I must impress upon you, however, that this does not mean you will be universally trusted within Autobot ranks. That may yet take a great deal of time. The other members of my command staff and I are privy to a great deal more information about you than the rank and file and even in that arena it will take time."

"Understood, Prime." Prowl dipped his helm. "I would not make such a presumption in any case."

To his relief, Optimus nodded, accepting his statement and clearly not feeling the need to press the issue.

Jazz grinned suddenly. "Hey. At least this means ya don't have ta worry 'bout me having to scan ya again."

Ratchet and Ironhide winced faintly at the seemingly carefree tone in the statement and Optimus frowned at the saboteur in a mild rebuke. The fragmentation of Prowl's processor at Jazz's hands was still a recent and painfully shameful memory for them.

Prowl, however was able to cross-reference the silver mech's tone, his expression and the flippant choice of words and recognized the comment for what it was. He allowed the tinniest hint of a smile to briefly grace his own lip plates. "There is that."

Jazz startled, his mouth hanging slightly agape for a couple of astroseconds. "Did… did you just make a joke?"

Prowl did not quite smirk back, though he did let his doorwings settle into a carefully respectful posture so as not to come across as to brazen. He looked back at the Prime. "Sir, I would recommend bolstering Iacon's ground recognizance patrols in addition to gathering intelligence on what ever Megatron may be planning. I predict he will try to act before the end of the vorn. If his first plan fails, he will likely retreat easily and attempt to more carefully plan another approach. Given enough time, his obsession with capturing me will fall into the background as the war reclaims his attention. In the mean time, it would be best if…"

Prowl fell silent with an audible hiss of static from his vocalizer as he realized all four of the senior Autobots were staring at him and that the Prime's expression was now hidden behind his battle mask.

Recognizing what he had just done – a junior, non-ranked tactician acting and speaking as freely as if he were a trusted advisor – Prowl's systems heated. He had allowed Jazz's companionable ribbing to lure him into a place of premature congeniality.

Horrified at his carelessness, Prowl dipped his doorwings, his optics falling all the way to the floor as he bowed his helm. "Forgive me, Prime. I did not mean to overstep."

Considering the Prime was keeping his battle mask in place, Prowl was surprised that his words were bemused rather than angered. "I will keep your warnings in mind, Prowl. First shift, report to your department and brief Smokescreen of the situation. He will take it from there."

Prowl relaxed slightly. Follow the chain of command, that was what he was being told to do. It was a kind reminder as well as a gentle reproof. Not at all the reaction Megatron would have had. Nor was it the reaction Prowl had half expected.

He straightened, accepting the kind rebuke as a soldier would, not as a prisoner, and came to attention. "Yes sir." He paused. "By your leave, sir?"

"Of course." Was the gentle dismissal.

"Not so fast!" Ratchet snapped at him, then looked at the Prime. "What about his combat systems? His weapons? His long distance communications? His subspace controls? His faction ID?"

Optimus lifted his chin a fraction, though the saboteur and weapon specialist exchanged almost hesitant looks with each other.

Believing he understood their reticence, Prowl spoke softly. "I have no need of combat or weapons systems to fulfill my assigned duties. Likewise long distance communications is also not an absolute necessity. And, while having access to my subspace storage would be nice, I have managed this far without it. Do not feel the need to alter the status quo further at this point."

The Prime relaxed then, looking at Ratchet. "Give him access to his subspace and his combat systems." He looked at Prowl almost apologetic. "Once the others have grown used to this change, we can add the other two systems."

Prowl indicated his acknowledgement even as Ratchet stepped back up to him, reaching for the controls at the base of his neck. A moment later his combat systems whirred to life, reintegrating seamlessly into the rest of his programming. Because of his Circuit Su training, he was not as dependent on those systems to be able to fight and so their re-initialization was not as dramatic a change as it would have been for another mech.

Ratchet circled back in front of him, looking him up and down with critical optics. "We'll reconnect your subspace systems while you are sedated for your optic implantation and faction ID modification."

Prowl released a shallow vent of air, relieved that he would not have to endure those procedures while conscious, even with his ingrained aversion to allowing himself to be offlined. "Much appreciated, Ratchet."

Recognizing the medic's temporary dismissal, Prowl turned back to the Prime. "Thank you, sir."

The Praxian had taken several steps when Ratchet called back to him, sudden mischievousness tweaking the edge of his voice. "Prowl… First Aid has not had a great deal of experience implanting optics, or with ID modification."

Prowl paused and suddenly, quite unexpectedly, felt an odd sense of kinship with the chartreuse medic. The kinship that comes with shared experiences. In this case the shared experience of intentionally creating teachable moments for an apprentice. Prowl had done that on several occasions for Smokescreen and recognized what Ratchet was doing now. He understood and was more than willing to assist.

He turned back to the medic, completely unaware that his epiphany had caused his optics to flicker with an amused gleam. "When will you be ready?"

Ratchet grinned, clearly not surprised to have the Praxian's tacit cooperation in his scheme. "By the end of this orn. Actually, three or four joors at most."

The corner of Prowl's lip plates quirked as he considered the medic a moment longer, matching the glint in Ratchet's optics. "Then I hope First Aid is ready by then as well." He looked at Optimus and bowed. "Prime."

The four mechs watched him leave in silence after that.

Jazz broke it first, looking at Ratchet incredulously. "First Aid? For his optics? Really?"

Ratchet shrugged though he was unable to hide a hint of smugness at what he and Prowl had just schemed. "First Aid has had a hand in all of Prowl's repairs since his first patrol with the Twins. By Prowl's own choice, as you just saw. The mech seems to have no problem letting First Aid get as much experience as possible." The medic shot a brief glare at Ironhide. "Primus knows not many others will let him handle the delicate areas. I'd be a fool not to take advantage of it."

Jazz thought for a moment and then shrugged, looking back at the door Prowl had just left through. "Does First Aid know about this?"

Now Ratchet's smirk was open. "Not yet."

Ironhide shook his head at them and looked back at the Prime, frowning slightly. "He was rather bold, speaking really freely just then."

Optimus nodded, knowing where his weapon specialist's concern stemmed from. "Do not blame him. I had encouraged him to do so earlier." He smiled gently. "He caught himself and did not seek to press his point."

"Still…" Ironhide seemed more uncomfortable than truly disgruntled.

Optimus shook his helm, cutting the black mech off. "Prowl will not be a junior tactician for long, my friend."

With that, Optimus took his own leave of the med bay. Behind him, Jazz smirked again, Ratchet seemed nonplussed and Ironhide released a noncommittal sigh of air.

… … …

Prowl was granted entry to Chromia and Ironhide's quarters. It was the first time he was actually allowed past the threshold and it surprised him that simply making his allegiance official would have that much of an impact. Or perhaps he was misreading the situation. He was never quite sure when Chromia was involved.

Regardless, he was intensely curious about the living arrangements in which his young ward spent most of his time, especially when he was away on missions. Even so, he endeavored not to look around too much, not wanting to appear unseemly. Their quarters were a good deal larger than his own, with the recharging area segregated into another chamber, as was a private wash rack. Not that uncommon for a bonded pair, especially one as high ranking as the weapon specialist.

Likewise, the quarters were clean and well kept and while minimally furnished, were nothing like the sparse nature of his own.

Bluestreak came in from yet another adjoining room at the sound of their entry and then hurried up to him, almost bouncing on his pedes.

"Prowl! You're here early, well earlier than you usually are. Is everything alright? You weren't injured were you? But you had the orn off, so you shouldn't be injured. But you are early so something had to happen. Is everything alright?"

Prowl put a gentle hand on Bluestreak's helm. "Everything is alright, Bluestreak. I…"

But Bluestreak interrupted in his clearly mounting excitement, having noticed the new brand on his chassis. "That's an Autobot symbol! You didn't have that before. You had the purple Decepticon one. Does… does that mean you are an Autobot now? That is really neat! Maybe others will be nice to you now and that would be really good. Can I see it?"

Prowl hid most of an amused smile as he glanced at Chromia. She looked like she was desperately trying not to laugh outright, though there was still an air of wariness about her.

Deciding not to worry about the femme for the moment, Prowl nodded, lowering himself to Bluestreak's level. "Of course."

Bluestreak reached toward him, small hands gently splaying over the edges of the newly embossed mark as he investigated it closely. Then his helm snapped up, his face alight with a bright grin. "Oooh, I think it looks really, really good. It's the same color as your chevron too, and that is just neat that it worked out like that."

As he was rambling on, the smaller black and yellow sparkling who had followed Bluestreak, timidly continued to edge closer. By the time Bluestreak paused, Bumblebee was well within the boundaries of Prowl's personal space. The Praxian grew more uncomfortable at the younger sparkling's proximity, primarily because he felt Chromia tense watchfully.

However, Bumblebee did not seem to notice, he was watching Bluestreak instead, at how confidently he interacted with his guardian and then he too looked up at Prowl. Golden optics met impossibly young sapphire ones for a brief second and then Bumblebee suddenly reached out to caress the new red image on Prowl's chassis in a mirroring gesture to what Bluestreak had done.

Prowl froze as he heard Chromia's sharp intake of air and the warning rev of her engine. He was not about to underestimate the potentially overprotective nature of guardian subroutines.

But Bumblebee simply pat the mark gently and trilled happily, looking up at Prowl to trill again. Then he pointed to the brand and then up at Chromia and let out a series of beeps and clicks.

"Yes." Prowl confirmed quietly, still afraid to move least Chromia misjudge his actions and attempt to defend her young charge. "I am now officially an Autobot, part of the same faction as your guardians, Bumblebee."

Bumblebee trilled happily, then looked at Bluestreak and trilled again, though in faint accusation, pointing at Prowl.

Bluestreak shook his helm, though his smile never waivered. "He didn't have one before because the grownups around here didn't trust him. But if they put their symbol on him it must mean they're finally trusting him…" The youngling paused, suddenly unsure, and looked up at Prowl. "Doesn't it?"

Prowl did not answer immediately, glancing up at Chromia, taking in her clearly wary expression and the tense line of her armor as her charge remained in such close proximity to him. "More so than before, Bluestreak." He responded, looking back at the younglings. "But not completely."

Bluestreak deflated visibly. "Oh." Then he perked up again. "Well, something is better than nothing I guess. I mean it must be better now."

Prowl felt Ironhide's approach on his sensory wings as Bluestreak started and was thus not surprised when Ironhide stepped into the room.

He did not expect the larger mech's comment on the youngling's statement. "Yes, Bluestreak, it is definitely better now."

Prowl stood slowly as Bumblebee scampered over to his mech guardian and launched himself at the hulking black mech to scramble over his frame in much the same way Bluestreak had done with him. The image, accompanied by the startlingly tender sound of a gentle croon coming from the weapon specialist's engine almost made Prowl smile even as it sent a stab of pain through his processors.

Cerulean optics met Prowl's golden gaze for a moment and Prowl had the distinct impression that Ironhide had a lot he wanted to say but clearly did not even know how to begin. After several seconds, Ironhide broke off the contact to look down at Bluestreak.

"Have you showed Prowl your project yet?"

"Oooh!" He looked up at Prowl, bouncing lightly in his excitement. "I forgot. Don't go anywhere."

Then he was gone, darting back into the room he had come from earlier. Prowl glanced up at Ironhide in silent question.

Ironhide's optics merely twinkled in smug amusement. Bluestreak's elated trill as he returned, accompanied by a rapid-fire, verbal torrent about how much fun it was to assemble, drew his attention back down to the youngling.

There, clasped gently his little hands was an appropriately sized laser riffle. Prowl recognized it as the type of weapon younglings routinely practiced with when they started learning how to fight. But there was something different about it.

"May, I?" He asked, kneeling again to be at Bluestreak's level as the sparkling handed the small weapon to him with an excited nod.

Carefully, Prowl turned the rifle around in his hands, examining it closely. The workmanship that had gone into creating it was spectacular.

"Right now it can only fire low-powered laser, so it won't really hurt anything, but he can learn to use it." Ironhide explained, pride clear in his voice. "It isn't standard stock in that as he matures that rifle can be adapted and upgraded to become whatever he wants it to be. We can exchange the power pack, the barrel, the control interface. The options are almost endless, that thing could be turned into the ultimate snipers weapon some orn if he wishes to. Or it could just serve as a reliable, basic-level front line weapon."

Prowl nodded, seeing the areas of the weapon's frame that would accommodate such changes, including where it could actually become an integrated weapon at a later date when Bluestreak had an adult frame that could accommodate such a weapon. "Impressive."

"Ironhide actually let me do some of the work, but he did most of it. The delicate stuff at least, but I helped shape the barrel. See, I even signed it!" A little finger pointed to the appropriate etchings.

Prowl looked at his charge and allowed himself to smile. "Very nice, Bluestreak."

"Are you going to teach me to shoot?" Bluestreak asked, hopeful expectation clear in his optics.

Prowl blinked, he had assumed Ironhide had intended to take that role as well, seeing as he had helped construct the weapon in the first place. But Ironhide simply grinned. "The little one said he wanted something he could do with you and since a mech has to be in his adult frame before learning Circuit Su, or Diffusion or any of that un-armed stuff, this seemed like as good a thing as any."

Of course it would to a mech whose life was dedicated to the art and construction of such weapons. But Bluestreak seemed more enthused than he had ever seen the little mech before and that made it easy for Prowl to agree. "Of course I will teach you, Bluestreak."

"Great!" Bluestreak beamed, then took his hand. "Let's go! Bye Bumblebee, Bye Chromia, Bye Ironhide!"

The two adults chuckled softly as Prowl was pulled toward the door. Bumblebee warbled at his friend then looked at Prowl and hesitantly warbled a farewell to him as well.

Allowing his lip plate to twitch upward into a brief smile, Prowl released a shallow vent. "Farewell, Bumblebee."

But that was all he had time for as Bluestreak continued for the door, his one-sidded dialogue starting up again as soon as it closed. "I know its too late in the orn to go to the training range now, but Ironhide said that he had a setting on this thing that will let me practice aming it without having to worry about actually firing it, that way I can work on my aim and then check how good I'm getting. Maybe we can do that tonight and then when you get off work tomorrow we can go by the training range and actually fire it. This is going to be so much fun. Ironhide said you were a good shot and would be able to teach me how to fire well. But then he said that snipers have the best shot of them all, and that sounds like it will take a lot of work. I don't really know what a sniper is, but if they are the best at what they do, then I want to be the best too…"

Prowl smiled, feeling like he was going to have his work cut out for him. He doubted Bluestreak would settle for anything less than perfection.

… … …

As Prowl had anticipated, Bluestreak was very much the perfectionist. And very inquisitive. All the same, he took to Prowl's initial safety instruction very seriously and with a maturity that made it imperative that he speak to Ratchet as quickly as possible. When he had his new optics implanted, perhaps, Prowl decided.

He nodded warmly as Bluestreak finished successfully breaking the weapon apart and then reassembling it correctly.

"I did it in under two breems, that time Prowl." Bluestreak beamed up at him.

"Indeed." Prowl agreed. "You have made outstanding progress."

"Thank you." Bluestreak answered with all seriousness sounding older than his frame, then his faceplate contorted as much as it was able. "I think my tanks need more energon again."

Prowl was about to answer when he received a ping on his communication system. /Prowl, this is Ratchet. Report to med bay./

Prowl blinked his optic shutters and gestured to Bluestreak to wait as he answered the CMO. /Yes sir. What about Bluestreak?/

/Jazz will be there shortly. An optic exchange is tricky enough work I don't want to have to worry about a youngling underpede…/

Even as the medic spoke, Jazz's spark signature registered on his scanners. /Understood. I believe he is here now./

/Then I shall expect you shortly./

The signal cut off just before Jazz sauntered through Prowl's door. Though he was officially an Autobot now, the fact that his weapons and communications systems remained locked down made Prowl believe his probation was not truly over. Thus he chose not to act as though it were and was why he accepted the continued lack of privacy.

Bluestreak sprung from his seat at the table to run up to Jazz, taking one of the silver mech's hands and pulling him to the table. "Look what Ironhide made for me, he even let me help. Isn't it wonderful? It's perfect! Prowl is going to teach me how to shoot tomorrow, if we have time."

"Wow, that's a mighty-fine weapon ya have there." Jazz grinned down at him and then looked at Prowl. "I think you have someplace you gotta be? Volunteered to come watch lil' Blue for ya."

"My thanks, Jazz." Prowl glanced briefly down at Bluestreak and then back at the saboteur. "Bluestreak had just requested an additional ration of energon, would you mind taking him to the rec room to procure some?"

"Of course." Jazz swung the hand Bluestreak still clung to, though he commed Prowl. /An additional ration?/

/Yes./ Prowl replied over the same frequency, though verbally he gave Bluestreak a gentle farewell, assuring him he would return shortly and not to worry. /I will address the issue with Ratchet while I am in med bay./

Jazz nodded easily and Prowl took his leave.

When Prowl made it to the med bay, he was greeted by First Aid. The junior medic glanced briefly at his new faction symbol and then smiled, relaxing palpably, which surprised Prowl. He had thought the younger medic was comfortable with him, but apparently First Aid had still been struggling to overcome innate concern over his former allegiances.

"Ratchet said you'd be here for your new optics." First Aid gave him a genuine smile.

Prowl nodded, quirking and optic ridge. "Ratchet also said you were looking forward to performing the procedure, as well as modifying my faction ID and enabling my subspace controls."

First Aid's frame heated as his vents stuttered in obvious irritation. "Um… he didn't need to do that. I…"

When he looked down, clearly flustered, Prowl took an educated guess as to what the problem was, knowing how most mechs felt about the issue. "Have you replaced optics before?"

First Aid blinked at the non-judgmental nature of the question. Then he released a sigh of air through his vents, completely unaware that Ratchet was observing them discretely from the door of his office. "Yes I have, but it has only been when someone has lost an optic in battle. See… it isn't the putting a new optic in that Ratchet wants me to get experience with, it's the taking your current optics out. That and changing your faction ID."

Prowl nodded his understanding. "I see. I am confident you will do well."

First Aid gave him a nervous smile. "I hope so, I mean… it's your optics…"

Prowl was then able to recognize what First Aid's real problem was. He straightened. "First Aid."

The young medic froze at the tone in Prowl's voice. It was a tone he had never heard from the Praxian before; the voice of one used to commanding mechs and one that demanded respect without being demanding. It seemed surprisingly natural for the black and white tactician.

Seeing as he had First Aid's complete attention, Prowl continued more gently though with no less strength behind his words. "I am a Praxian with sensory doorwings. What do you know of my frame type in regards to our dependence on sensory data verse optical?"

Both mechs were so focused, neither noticed the faint smirk form on Ratchet's lip plates as First Aid quickly rattled off an answer as if reciting a text file; like a first year medical student would. "The sensory information provided by your doorwings is far more acute than what your optics can generate. Therefore, they are your primary sensory organ of choice. It is part of what makes them so sensitive to damage and… Oh."

First Aid's optics widened as he stumbled to a halt and focused back on Prowl. Then he smiled, shoulder plating shifting with the release of tension.

The Praxian nodded, seeing that First Aid understood, "Yes. I have already trusted you to work on my doorwings, First Aid. I have no qualms about letting you do this. Any of it."

First Aid blinked again and then his vents flared with a relieved intake of air. "Thank you."

Ratchet chose that moment to intervene, stepping closer. "Alright. Get your aft over here, Prowl."

First Aid started visibly at the sudden verbal intrusion then scurried away to get the equipment they would need. Prowl obediently walked to the berth Ratchet pointed him to, releasing a sigh of air through his own vents, finding he was suddenly more trepidatious. Or rather, it was not so suddenly, only that the nervousness he had been able to push aside in favor of dealing with other issues suddenly had nothing to buffer it.

Ratchet was evaluating him critically as he climbed onto the berth. "You sound more confident than you really are. If you would prefer…"

Prowl quickly shook his helm. "It is not First Aid's ability to perform the optic exchange that troubles me." Prowl forced himself to meet the CMO's gaze, suspecting he might not respond well to what he was about to say. "In my experience, allowing myself to be offlined is seldom a good idea."

Ratchet stared at him and then a low irritated growl rumbled from his engine. "I've told you, I am not a Decepticon butcher. Neither of us are." A yellow face suddenly loomed closer. "If we were, you'd already be dismantled for what you did as one of them."

Prowl could not stop himself from flinching away, though he stopped the movement before it got further than his doorwings. He lowered his gaze, not wanting to anger the medic further. "I know. I mean no offense. But you understand ingrained thought patters are hard to break."

Ratchet gave a noncommittal huff of air, though he did relax from his borderline threatening posture. "Then you should be able to appreciate what he is going through to work on you."

"Yes." Prowl answered quietly, looking at First Aid as he continued to rummage through a supply cabinet. "I can."

"Indeed." Ratchet lowered his voice so that only Prowl could hear. "He is a skilled medic and a very quick study. One of the most talented apprentices I have ever had. But he has very little confidence at all."

Prowl looked back at the CMO, matching his low volume. "He is young. I am certain he will gain confidence in time."

"You will have been a great help in that." Ratchet stated rather matter-of-factly, then he straightened.

Prowl eyed the medic, not expecting such an expression of gratitude. Then he dipped his helm slightly but said nothing as First Aid was approaching.

Completely unaware of Prowl's private conversation with his mentor, First Aid helped the tactician recline on the berth and smiled warmly down at him. For some reason, Prowl found that actually helped ease his lingering, deeply ingrained fears as he realized he actually trusted the mech about to work on him not to intentionally cause harm.

"Did you have a particular shade or hue you wished your optics set to?" The young medic asked, kindly and with more sureness than he had demonstrated just a breem earlier.

Prowl blinked, not having anticipated being given such a choice. Not that it truly mattered to him; he was not the one having to look at his own optics, so long as they were appropriate for his faction. "Not particularly, First Aid. Feel free to choose whatever hue you feel is appropriate."

First Aid stared at him for a moment and then nodded

A moment later blackness claimed him.

… … …

When he onlined some time later, Prowl automatically ran a security and history check of all his systems. The first thing he noticed was that his faction modulator was now transmitting an Autobot IFF. He took a nanosecond to appreciate the change. Then his subspace systems registered as online during his normal boot up cycle, yet another pleasant alteration. Everything else came back as expected. The medics had done their work and nothing improper or damaging.

It had happened with sufficient regularity, that Prowl decided it was relatively safe to believe that such would the be expected outcome.

A little under half a joor had passed. As his final systems whirred to full power, Prowl onlined his optics.

"Excellent." That was Ratchet's voice. "Good choice, First Aid."

Prowl blinked and then accepted the chartreuse and black hand lowered in front of him. The CMO helped him sit up and then stepped back.

"I told you, sir." First Aid smiled proudly. "It fits him."

Registering himself as a touch annoyed at not knowing what they were referring to, Prowl did another quick scan of his systems. They came back clean as well. No untoward modifications had been made. That left his new optic color as the only logical subject of their deliberation.

"It does." Ratchet agreed and then handed Prowl a mirror.

Cocking an optic ridge, Prowl accepted it and peered down at his image.

What he saw made him stare in shock. Somewhere between deep cobalt and flawless sapphire, his own optics stared back at him. While not nearly as terrifying as his dark ruby optics had been, they were still intense, reflecting the strength of the personality behind them even when he tried not to. He had to agree with Ratchet, the color was perfect.

Only one thing made him a touch uneasy. They were the exact shade as the Prime's. Was it presumptuous on his part to retain such a blatant imitation of the Autobot Supreme Commander? Then his logic systems swept aside that notion. If he had been the one to choose, perhaps… but as he had left that decision in the hands of others, he reasoned he should take it as a gesture of friendliness. If any gesture was intended at all.

He looked up at the two medics and bowed his helm, handing the mirror back to its owner. "My thanks to both of you." He focused on First Aid. "Any unforeseen difficulties?"

First Aid shook his helm, a smile still gracing his lip plates. "None."

Prowl slid off the berth to his feet and looked at Ratchet. "With your permission, Ratchet, I would ask you to evaluate Bluestreak for a possible frame upgrade."

Ratchet's optics widened at the seemingly random request. However, unlike the last time he had requested an upgrade from the medic, Ratchet did not immediately accuse him of attempting to mistreat the youngling. After a moment to process the statement, Ratchet's posture shifted to a more serious stance.

"What signs of readiness have you noticed?"

Relieved not to suddenly find himself confronting a pissed off CMO, Prowl listed them. "He is showing the ability to reason at a more mature level and has demonstrated consistently a more mature understanding of the ramifications of the actions and decisions of those outside of his immediate influence. The questions he asks are increasingly technical and detailed and he is able to retain the information he is given and to apply it to new situations. Foremost, however, he is now requiring more than double the energon rations he has previously needed."

Ratchet considered him for a long moment and then nodded. "All the classic signs. Yes, bring him in before the start of your shift tomorrow and I'll do the evaluation." The medic frowned. "Having enough parts available for both sparklings to go through two more youngling frames and into their first adult frame might be an issue, because there is no telling where we will be supply-wise by the time they are ready for their adult frames."

Prowl nodded, not truly surprised. It had been a concern that had been replaying unobtrusively in the back of his processor since Bluestreak had first come under his protection. "I understand."

"There are always options, Prowl." Ratchet placed a hand briefly on his shoulder in an uncharacteristically comforting gesture. "I've been trying to figure those options out in my spare time since they came on the base. I'll just have to make it a priority now."


I do believe this chapter contains at least one of the more anticipated moments of this story (so far). I hope it lived up to expectations.

I just want to give everyone a heads up. I know that for the most part, I have been able to update this story on an almost weekly basis. That will probably not continue, primarily because I will be returning to school (graduate school) in early June. Second, though definitely related, is that I will still be working part to full time while I am in school. Never fear, I will continue to update (and until school actually starts I will endeavor to do so as frequently as possible), it will just not be as frequently as I have spoiled everyone with. So I ask (more than a month in advance) for your patience. :)

Until then, I look forward to hearing what you guys are thinking, speculating etc.