Hope every one (my American readers at least) had a good Memorial Day. Never forget those who serve and who have given their lives for our freedoms. In memory of my friends, David (2009) and Charles (2010), who died in the line of duty while in service to their country.
By the end of the orn, Prowl had been forced to admit – even if only to Smokescreen on a private comm. – that the briefing had gone better than he would have anticipated. It had been a surprise to see Elita One, not that he was unfamiliar with her appearance. She had been on an unspecified mission since before his capture and, despite everything, he had been grateful for that. She was a femme to be reckoned with, every bit as strong and as driven as the Prime himself and, while she was rumored to be compassionate, was also known for being more reactive and fiery.
Her reaction to his presence made it clear she did not trust him and would not let her guard down. It had surprised him that she had taken Air Raid to task when she had clearly agreed with at least the sentiment behind the arialbot's words. That alone bespoke a strength of character and conviction that impressed Prowl almost as much as her sparkmate did.
Even so, the Praxian was glad the orn was over as he headed down the corridor to pick up Bluestreak. He almost smirked; the freedom to simply leave his post when his shift ended was an aspect of being lower ranked he found he rather enjoyed. It was a leisure he had not known for hundreds of vorns; ever since he had been promoted to second in command of the Praxian Enforcer Corps' Tactical Division. And that had been only a hundred vorns or so before he had taken over the department when the division commander was promoted to command of the entire Enforcer Corps.
A sudden, very unique spark resonance registered on his upgraded scanners: a single spark that resonated between two mechs only four corridors over. He had not noticed it before because of the volume of traffic in those particular hallways. Rather it was his combat system – running in stand-by mode in the back ground at all times now that it was allowed to function – that actually singled them out and brought their presence to his conscious attention and for one single reason.
They were headed purposefully his direction.
Prowl tensed, but continued moving, telling himself that surely it was just the two of them going about their given duties. Of course, he knew that was wishful thinking and only allowed himself to indulge in the otherwise useless activity because he knew that if they wanted to force a confrontation, it would be even more foolish to try and avoid them. At least now Bluestreak was safely elsewhere and would not be tempted to intervene.
With a quiet rev of his engine, Prowl lifted his chin resolutely and continued walking as if he was not concerned at all.
At least until Sunstreaker sidled up to his left, Sideswipe to his right, both uncomfortably within his personal space.
"Hi, Prowlie!" Sideswipe purred, though it was not a pleasant sound.
Prowl's engine growled before he could stop it and he cast the silver mech an irritated look. "It's Prowl."
"Whatever." Sunstreaker waved flippantly and then reached over to flick the Autobot symbol on Prowl's chassis. "So… you're one of us now."
It had taken every ounce of self-control he possessed not to slam Sunstreaker's face into the decking for that, so much so that he almost missed Sideswipe's snarky rebuttal.
"At least he looks like one of us."
"True." Sunstreaker conceded. "After all, looks can be deceiving. Especially for Decepticons."
Prowl shot the golden front-liner a look, though he was starting to have the nagging suspicion that there was more going on here than he had initially suspected. Neither one had brought up Bluestreak nor what had happened the previous orn.
"What is the point of this?" He demanded, though he forced himself to remain polite.
"I was badly hurt in that safe-house debacle." Sunstreaker growled. "So were a lot of my friends."
Prowl hesitated mid-step and looked at him, optic ridges drawn together. "And you blame me?"
It was as much a simple request for clarification as it was dawning revelation.
Sunstreaker's engine revved and his words were spoken with open doubt. "The Prime said it wasn't your fault."
"But you were sure upset about it." Sideswipe put in quickly, his optics flashing.
What was going on here? Prowl's battle systems still alerted him that he was in imminent danger, but this did not feel like the usual trouble the Twins were infamous for.
"Yes, I was upset." Prowl admitted cautiously.
Sunstreaker suddenly swung around in front of him, arresting his progress. The warrior growled, leaning in threateningly, his optics alight with untold angry warning. It was enough to make Prowl freeze all systems, wishing his programming would permit him to defend himself from higher ranking mechs.
"You think that just because you have blue optics and that symbol on your chassis that we are just going to roll over and trust you?" Sunstreaker demanded. "We've worked with your kind before, in the battlefield, and we've learned the hard way never to trust a defector."
Prowl eyed the two mechs carefully, speaking softly, well aware he was dealing with an unstable fusion reactor that could explode at the slightest provocation. "If I were under the assumption that you trusted me, I assure you I no longer am."
"Good." Sunstreaker stepped even closer and Prowl fought the urge to step back to put space between them, knowing that showing weakness now would be a mistake. "Once a 'Con always a 'Con. We won't be forgetting that and we will be there when you decide to turn on the Autobots."
Prowl blinked, realizing he was being inadvertently shown the real reason the two Terror Twins retained such an antagonistic view of him and everything suddenly made sense, including Sunstreaker's outburst about him not deserving to be an Autobot the previous orn.
The Twins were front line warriors. Most, if not all, Decepticon defectors – according to Smokescreen – were kept as lower-level grunt-warriors. The kind the Twins would serve with out in the field. They were among those who would be hurt the most directly if those defectors decided to change allegiances once again. No wonder they had been the ones he had been sent out with on his first mission – it was probably an assignment they were given quite frequently as the need arose. And Prowl had no doubt the percentage of such mechs betraying them was high. No wonder they expected the same from him.
Could it actually be, as suggested by Sunstreaker's choice of words, that they – as unlikely as it might seem – were actually concerned enough about their faction that they would take it upon themselves to personally try and eliminate what they considered a serious threat? Was it possible this was not nearly as personal for them, at least not now, as Prowl had assumed it was?
Curious, he glanced at Sideswipe for confirmation.
The silver Twin gave it with a sharp nod. "We won't let you hurt the 'Bots around here. Not if we can stop you."
Prowl blinked, feeling some of his instinctive defensiveness abate.
This was a side of the Twins he would never have anticipated from his experiences with them to date. But the grim seriousness, the absolute lack of the mischievousness they usually all but radiated spoke to their sincerity. This he could appreciate.
"If the Prime trusts me," he spoke, newborn respect in his tone, "rest assured it has not been given lightly."
Sideswipe just huffed in disdain for such a claim.
Sunstreaker stepped closer, using one hand to push Prowl backward, up against a wall. Prowl let himself he held there as Sunstreaker snarled. "It should not have been given at all."
Still not fighting the hand holding him against the wall, Prowl continued to meet the angry optics boring into him. "We are on the same side, Sunstreaker."
"You. Are. A. Decepticon." Sunstreaker pushed him into the wall a fraction harder, though surprisingly not with the same violence that boiled in his gaze. It was a level of control that had to be taxing on the golden Twin.
Prowl took advantage of that and straightened, not backing down even if he did not fight back. "You are wrong, Sunstreaker. While I do not expect you to believe me easily or quickly, I am no longer a Decepticon, and will never be one again."
Sunstreaker's engine revved threateningly and the hand holding him curled tighter around the armor plating. "You…"
"That is enough!" Inferno's voice cut through the lowly vibrating growls filling the air.
Immediately Sunstreaker released Prowl stepping back fractionally. Sideswipe likewise backed off.
"We were just leaving." Sideswipe cast a suddenly wary look at Prowl and then tugged at his brother's arm. "Come on, Bro."
Sunstreaker made to follow his twin but Inferno called them again. "Sunstreaker, halt! You were assaulting…"
"I will not press charges, this time." Prowl said quickly and lowly, though his tone made both the Twins look at him in surprise. He ignored them and looked at Inferno. "No harm was done."
Inferno cocked and optic ridge at Prowl, but after a moment nodded dismissal at the two front line warriors who hurried to depart. Now alone in the corridor with the security mech, Prowl waited silently, belatedly wondering if he would catch any fallout from this even if he had not been at fault. It would not be the first time. He clearly remembered the time Inferno had made him leave the rec room because a handful of mechs – the Twins among them – had chosen to make a scene because he was there.
"Those two are dangerous." Inferno chose to say, nodding the direction the Twins had gone.
Prowl let his lip plate quirk ever so faintly. "Perhaps, but not this orn." He hesitated. "Not yet."
Inferno actually released a short bark of laughter at the dry statement. Then he sobered, looking up and down Prowl's frame critically, clearly taking in the changes that have been made to it to signify his change in loyalty. Prowl waited, growing more worried the longer it took the bright red mech to say something. Anything.
At length, at least half a breem into his silent inspection, Inferno's frame relaxed into something more casual, indicating what he said next was informal. "I believe I owe you a cube of energon. I'd like to make good on it."
Prowl stared, that was not what he expected to hear. At all. It sent a stab of pain shooting into his processor and he just barely managed to hide the wince. "You owe me nothing…"
"Humor me." Inferno insisted, gesturing with an open, friendly hand down the corridor toward the rec room.
Prowl hesitated a moment, trying to decide if that was an order he was obligated to follow or simply a friendly request. He blinked up into the nervous but also quietly hopeful optics of the security mech. Having been in the other mech's armor back in his early vorns on the Praxian Enforcer Corps, he believed he understood what was troubling Inferno. Perhaps if he could assuage those concerns he could get out of a trip to the – by now – crowded rec room.
He nodded slowly. "As you wish, though I understand why you acted as you did to de-escalate that situation."
"It was not the right choice." Inferno said regretfully. "I knew then that they were attempting to antagonize and make a scene and that you were merely trying to refuel. I chose their side because I was not entirely sure they weren't correct, however wrong their methods."
Prowl blinked again, accepting the explanation, though he did not truly believe Inferno had a moral obligation to give it. "I was a POW at the time." Prowl stated softly. "You were more equitable than you may believe."
Inferno eyed him as they continued walking toward the lounge. "That's very generous of you."
Prowl quirked an optic ridge faintly, "So is offering to replace a cube of energon you do not owe me."
Inferno chuckled again at that, his armor relaxing more fully, though he was no closer to being truly at ease than Prowl was. As they walked, Prowl sent a quick ping to Chromia explaining that he had been delayed, but that he would be there to pick up Bluestreak as soon as he was able.
Their walk was companionably silent, though there was still an unspoken unease between them. However, as they neared the rec room, it became very evident that the place was indeed teeming with mechs. Unintentionally, Prowl's steps slowed.
When Inferno realized his companion was slowing, he looked at Prowl with mild concern. "What's wrong?"
The question snapped Prowl back to the moment, though he hesitated in answering. "I make a point of avoiding crowds."
Inferno frowned at him. "How are mechs going to learn to trust you if they never get to know you?"
Prowl canted him a sidewise look as they rounded the last bend on their approach to the crowded rec room. "You saw how effectively that strategy worked with Sunstreaker and Sideswipe."
Of all things, Inferno laughed, and it was a true laugh. "Yeah, well, thankfully, most mechs aren't like those two miscreants."
"Indeed." Prowl found he liked the sound of Inferno's laugh. It was bold and relatively free and he was surprised the mech had relaxed enough around him to make such a noise. "They were a major nuisance for the Praxian Enforcer Corps."
Inferno stared at him, optics widening, though it was not defensive or suspicious. "I would imagine so, but how do you know that?"
Prowl concealed his surprise that Inferno would not know his history. Apparently the command staff had been fairly tight-glossaed about his past. He decided he should appreciate the consideration for his privacy in that it allowed him to get to know the other individuals on the base like a normal mech… not the one-sided and unbalanced knowledge gap that existed between him and say Jazz, Ironhide, Ratchet and the Prime.
That said, he knew anything he said now would be subject to the base's rumor mill. Regardless, thinking perhaps knowing that he was once a respectable Enforcer would help others gain confidence in him. He did not think it would hurt anything, at least.
"I was the senior tactician for the Praxian Enforcer Corps." He answered the question softly.
"Ah." The light of understanding filled the red-mech's optics and he nodded to himself as bits and pieces of information and observations doubtlessly settled into place. Then his expression became more pointed. "Did you manage to keep them under control?"
Prowl could not stop the rueful snort of air. "Most of the time. Though not always."
Inferno paused at the door to the rec room and allowed Prowl to proceed him inside before coming abreast of him again. "I would be interested to hear how."
Prowl let himself smirk. "It was most often a matter of giving them sufficient outlet for their… excess enthusiasm."
Inferno just stared at him. " 'Excess enthusiasm'?" He echoed incredulously.
"What would you call it?" Prowl asked as he retrieved a cube for himself.
"Nothing so… polite." Inferno said with another gentle chuckle and then let them fall into a companionable silence as they walked to a table. Once they were seated he spoke again. "So, how did you deal with them?"
Prowl took a sip then set the cube down to politely give Inferno his complete attention. "Manual labor. Brig or prison time does not work effectively because it just gives them time to concoct a more devious plan. Putting them to work? At least we would get something out of it."
"Hmm. I'll keep that in mind."
This time the silence was awkward.
Prowl sensed Inferno was contemplating how to change topics. As the silence lengthened, he became convinced it would be to an uncomfortable topic. Even so he waited, willing to let Inferno direct this conversation where he wished, finding he was actually feeling a touch indebted to the mech – not just for stopping Sunstreaker but also for offering him a touch of normal mech-to-mech interaction.
As the uneasy silence dragged on however, Prowl could tell Inferno was growing increasingly nervous. He released a vent of air. "You will not be the first to ask me difficult questions, Inferno. Please do not make it harder on yourself than you already have."
Inferno blinked out of his nearly blank stare to meet his optics and then he averted them, clearing his vents. "You were with Megatron, as his lead tactician, correct?"
Prowl nodded, suddenly aware that the conversations around them stilled to hear what was coming. Inferno was looking distinctly uncomfortable, almost as if he really did not want to know the answer to his next question. "So… his policy of targeting sparklings and neutrals… was… was that you?"
Prowl stared, he had answered this one for Hound already. Apparently the rumor mill was not a universal thing on this base… or perhaps it was only that security mechs were not routinely included in that underground news channel. He discretely filed away that tidbit of information.
Even so, he was aware that his doorwings had instinctively gone completely stiff to avoid giving too much away as to his reactions. He shook his helm. "No. Actually I advised Megatron against those specific tactics."
"He didn't listen to his own senior tactician?" Inferno was dubious now, bordering on disbelief.
"Not in those two cases." Prowl paused, looking at Inferno and then at a few of the others who were not so subtly listening. He released a vent. "Jazz and Ratchet can both confirm that."
He could see armor relax around Inferno's frame. "And attacking defenseless medics?"
Prowl looked down, whishing he could give the same automatic denial, but knowing he could not. He fingered his half-full cube of energon, aware his doorwings drooped a fraction of a centimeter.
"Unfortunately, I cannot deny culpability in that travesty."
Inferno's surprise – likely at his open honesty – was clear to see. Then he blinked, not drawing away like Prowl expected, but actually leaning a fraction forward. "Is there any way to get around or mitigate that tactic?"
Prowl released a vent. "Unfortunately, the Decepticons are not likely to change such an effective strategy just because I have defected. The only thing we can do is depend on…" An idea hit him so suddenly it felt almost like a physical blow. He sat up straighter, his tactical processors pouncing on the idea and running multiple scenarios and calculations simultaneously to determine its legitimacy.
"… The medics." He finished slowly, still processing, hesitant to give into the sudden gust of relief he felt threatening at his control. He still had to convince said medics.
He focused back on Inferno, unaware that his well-controlled excitement lit his optics. "Perhaps there is a way. Thank you, Inferno." He stood. "Excuse me, sir, I need to speak to Ratchet."
Prowl started to step away only to realize Inferno was still looking at him oddly. He paused. "I do not mean to be rude, Inferno. Our discussion has been… pleasant."
The red mech cocked an optic ridge. "Pleasant?"
Prowl nodded, easily sensing the other's incredulity. "Indeed. You have assisted me in coming to a conclusion for a problem that has vexed me since my defection. Thank you."
"Um… you're welcome." It was almost more of a question than a statement. "Uh, glad I could help."
Prowl paused, looking at the now clearly bewildered security mech. "If you wish, we may continue this discussion at a later time."
He barely waited for Inferno's bemused nod before he turned and departed the rec room with as much haste as decorum and his pride would allow.
It was only as he was nearing the med bay that reality and self-preservation penetrated his growing internal excitement and he belatedly realized he had not given the CMO any warning as to his impending arrival.
Seeing the med bay doors just down the hall, he deemed it too late to correct that particular error and instead worked on calming himself. It would not help his case any if he appeared the incomprehensible fool.
He had succeeded in regaining complete control over his outward expression by the time he stepped into Ratchet's domain.
Ratchet was in the main medical ward, looking at an array of disassembled equipment parts with a junior medic Prowl had not met yet.
Ratchet looked up at his entry and frowned. Then he stood. Prowl spoke before the medic could. "Ratchet, might I speak with you, please?"
Ratchet straightened, looking at him appraisingly, considering the carefully polite tone of his words. Then finally he nodded, pointing to his office. Prowl followed him there and once the door closed behind them the CMO turned on him with wary suspicion.
"What is this about?"
Prowl carefully chose his words, knowing he was about to touch of very sensitive topic and not entirely sure how the temperamental medic would respond. Only then did Prowl realize he was not as bothered by the CMO's previous harangue as he would have expected. Like Hound had told him, that type of outburst seemed to fit the mech's temperament.
Even so, he continued cautiously. "I have been considering how I might be able to help mitigate the unfortunate actions I initiated against Autobot medics while I served under Megatron."
Ratchet's optics narrowed. "You mean when you had us intentionally targeted."
Prowl hesitated at the medic's tone, his doorwings twitching. "Yes."
The medic's engine growled in clear indication that Prowl had better tread on this topic carefully. "And what, pray tell, are you considering?"
"I may not be able to stop the Decepticons from targeting you, but I believe I may be able to help you and your staff learn to defend yourselves." He told the medic sincerely.
Ratchet just stood there for a long moment then shook his helm, a note of bitterness filling his voice. "Do you think Ironhide hasn't already tried? We are medics, Prowl. Attempting to integrate combat systems interferes with our medical programming."
He lifted a hand, gesturing with the opposite one at all of the well-concealed gears that would let him transform that hand into a myriad of different instruments. "Which of our tools would you have us sacrifice to support plasma cannons or energon blades? And without combat systems… attempts to put a blaster in our hands is, is… disastrous."
Ratchet was growling now, stepping toward Prowl angrily, nearly a decavorn of pent up frustration finally finding vent in his optics and sharp gestures. "Ironhide tried for nearly a vorn, but without combat protocols, even he finally gave up. Because of your orders as a Decepticon, we are virtually a liability to any unit we are assigned to. A liability when we should be an asset."
Prowl's doorwings tucked back, flinching at the frustration and increasing anger he heard in the medic's voice and he did not even consider interrupting, willing to let Ratchet vent his well-established angst at the situation at the one who had caused it.
When the medic seemed finished, he nodded. Even so, he did not feel his own optimism fade. "I know. But surely you must know how adaptive a mech's processor is. You cannot download combat protocols; that does not mean you cannot learn to fight. You cannot integrate plasma rifles or energon swords; that does not mean you cannot learn to use the tools you do have."
Ratchet just stared at him. "You seem very sure about that."
"I am." Prowl nodded. "If you are willing to learn… if you are willing to let me teach you. I cannot promise to make you a warrior, but I can at least help you learn not to be helpless."
Silence settled between them for the length of time it took Ratchet to cycle a full system's worth of air.
"Just me?" He asked at last.
Prowl shook his helm. "Any of your staff who are interested and willing to make the commitment."
Ratchet's lighter blue optics narrowed at that. "Exactly what type of commitment?"
"Dedicated practice at least twice a decaorn or more, whenever possible for at least a vorn." Prowl said immediately, having already calculated the minimum time and conditions in which he would be able to help them accomplish at least the basics of self-defense.
Ratchet did not move at all as he took that in, then he spoke, sounding faintly dazed and confused. "You would do this for us?"
Prowl nodded firmly. "Yes."
The CMO continued to consider him for another half breem and then nodded. "I will speak to my staff. Expect to hear from me within the next few orns."
"Yes, sir." Prowl returned the gesture and then turned to leave, having recognized the dismissal in the medic's tone.
… … …
Ratchet watched Prowl leave, considering the mech's back and the words they had just shared. It was a surprise for sure, the offer itself as well as the gesture it represented. Or, perhaps, it was not so surprising after all. After a full breem lost in his own thoughts, he sent out a ping to his entire staff, except for the ones currently in recharge, and called them to the main medical bay for a staff meeting.
He really did not like meetings, but this situation called for one.
All of his assistants were gathered by the time he stepped out of his office. As usual, he wasted no time, meeting the optic of every mech under his command. "Everyone here knows that we are, as unarmed medics, targets on the battlefield."
Livewire, a smallish brown colored femme working as a senior medical technician nodded with a tiny shiver. "Yeah, I try not to think about it."
Ratchet saw the various motions of agreement from the other medics. He nodded. "We all know Prowl was responsible for that policy." More nods, though First Aid was frowning. Ratchet ignored him and continued. "He was just here with a proposal to counteract that, which he wished to present for your consideration."
Optics around the room widened as they stared at him as if unable to believe their audios. First Aid alone did not seem surprised at the offer and recovered first. "What is that proposal, Ratchet?"
Ratchet drew in and released a long vent of air. "He is offering to train any of us who are interested in self-defense."
First Aid stared at him as the others immediately started protesting or hissing in surprise. When First Aid finally spoke, he did so loud enough it shut the other murmurs of disbelief up. "Do you think he can do it? I mean Ironhide, um…"
Ratchet nodded as his apprentice left that sentence unfinished. No one wanted to be reminded of that ill-fated adventure. "If anyone can, he can. He is apparently a Circuit Su Master. He is already training the Prime. Such an offer… it is a great honor, I believe."
"It is the least he could do." Jolt bit out, blue armor flaring briefly.
Ratchet nodded. "That too. And he knows that as well. I believe that is also one of the reasons he is making the offer."
Patch, a green and yellow mech only a handful of vorns into his first assignment out of primary medical college looked at his fellows nervously. "But… he's a Decepticon. Ironhide was hard enough. I don't think I could handle it."
First Aid looked at Patch sharply and spoke before Ratchet could. "Actually, I think he will be a much more patient teacher than Ironhide."
Jolt shook his head, looking at First Aid. "Just because he talks to you in a civil manner…"
"He let me work on his Doorwings, Jolt." First Aid cut him off. "Because he knew I needed to get the experience and he knew none of the other Praxians on the base will let me. Knowing his would be the first ones I've ever actually worked on. And he never put any pressure on me at all."
There was stillness in the medical ward as the others took this in. They had known, peripherally that Prowl had consented to let First Aid work on him frequently, but Ratchet had never seen fit to fill them in on the details. That was between First Aid and Prowl.
Then First Aid looked back at him. "I want to learn."
Jolt glanced at First Aid then he too nodded, looking at his boss. "I'll give it a try. I'm tired of being a helpless target."
Livewire shook her helm. "Not me, I'd rather take my chances."
A couple of others indicated agreement with the femme.
Patch looked nervously between the two who had refused and then met First Aid's optics. "Do… do you really think he will be patient with us?"
First Aid looked at the slightly smaller mech and nodded, smiling faintly. "He will be patient. He has to know he is getting mechs who know absolutely nothing about fighting. I don't think he would have made the offer if he wasn't prepared to deal with that."
Patch looked uncertain, his armor shifting on his frame as he doubtlessly remembered Ironhide's attempts to train them. It was an experience most of them preferred not to remember.
First Aid smiled wider. "Hound told me that, according to Ironhide, Prowl is teaching Bluestreak to shoot. Bluestreak is enjoying it immensely. I think he will be a great teacher… Smokescreen seems to think so too, and he was Prowl's apprentice… um, before the war."
Patch blinked and then straightened, drawing up his courage. "I don't want to be a target either. I… I'll try it too."
Ratchet blinked at the newest member of his medical staff. He had not expected the smaller mech to be that adventurous or brave. Perhaps he should keep a closer optic on him. There might be more there than he had initially thought.
"What about Wheeljack?" First Aid asked suddenly, drawing Ratchet's attention back to his own apprentice.
Ratchet paused, frowning as he considered the question. "He's not technically on the medical staff, even if he works with us regularly. He doesn't go on the front lines very often."
"But he is one of the most brilliant engineers we have, even if he's a little loose in the processor occasionally." First Aid insisted.
Jolt snorted quietly as Ratchet shook his helm. "I don't know that Prowl would be willing to extend his offer outside the medical corps."
First Aid was silent for an astrosecond then brightened. "Well… there is one way to know, isn't there?" He gestured to pause his part in the conversation and activated his comm. before he could talk himself out of it.
/First Aid to Prowl…/
The reply was almost immediate if a touch surprised and a bit distracted. /This is Prowl. Can I help you, First Aid?/
First Aid found himself instantly put at ease by the polite tenor of Prowl's digital voice. /Um… maybe. Ratchet was just telling us about your offer to train us to defend ourselves…/ He trailed off, not sure how to phrase his real question.
/…Yes?/ Prowl inquired gently when the pause grew long.
Gathering his own courage, taking confidence in the things he had told Patch, but still not quite able to forget the way he had treated Prowl the last time the Praxian had been under his care – even if the mech had forgiven him – First Aid plunged ahead. /Well, I really appreciate the offer and I know I'm going to take you up on it. But I was wondering, well, Wheeljack sometimes works with us, even though technically he is engineering and… um… I was wondering if it would… I mean, I don't even know if he's interested… but…/
A touch of patient amusement filtered over the comm. channel and seeped into Prowl's voice as he gently cut him off. /If Wheeljack is interested, I have no objections to teaching him what I am able to./
First Aid laughed at himself, at his foolish anxiety over the matter, as he thanked Prowl and signed off. He was smiling triumphantly as he looked back at Ratchet. "He's fine with it."
Ratchet cocked an optic ridge, bemused. "Yes." He drawled. "I'm sure those were his exact words."
Hope this one made sense. The reason I separated the last two chapters was not primarily due to length, it was due to the volume of different things that happened. I figured it would be easier/better to read if I gave you a brief break between the events. (So yes, I know this one is rather short. I have a feeling the next one will make up for that. :D ) I know I didn't use the Twins' POV, but I did come back to them. Hehehe. Just so you don't get your hopes up however, this chapter is only posted so quick because it was already written when I decided to split it from the previous one.
As always, I look forward to reviews and want to hear your thoughts.
