Fair warning; I broke one of my own personal rules in that I wrote a substantial portion of one scene from the POV of an OC character. I tried to find a cannon character I could use for the POV in that scene, but nothing seemed right. I think it comes off okay, but I'm sure you guys will tell me whether you agree or not.
I have not finished writing the outline covering the time gap I was going to jump before I changed my mind, but I had enough of it I figured I could start writing it so as to not keep you guys waiting too long. But that does mean that updates are still going to be slower that before.
Note: this takes place at the end of the same orn as the events at the end of the previous chapter.
Bluestreak held onto his guardian's hand as they neared the med bay. He kept telling himself that this would not hurt, that nothing else the medics had done to him had hurt. But this was a processor expansion. He did not see how his processor could be made larger and it not hurt. It just sounded like it should be painful.
"You will be alright, Bluestreak." Prowl's patient and calm voice came from above.
Bluestreak nodded, not looking up. He wanted to believe Prowl, he really did. It would be just so much better if he knew for sure that…
"I will be with you the whole time." Prowl's hand tightened minutely around his own.
Relief washed over Bluestreak, making his legs feel weak. If Prowl was with him, he would be fine. He was absolutely certain about that.
He looked up and managed to work up a smile as Prowl met his optics briefly before triggering the entry controls to the med bay.
They were greeted by seven medics and Bluestreak froze. He only recognized the ones from Prowl's classes: Ratchet, Patch, Jolt and First Aid. There was a copper colored femme and two other mechs – one light blue the other orange – whom he had never met. He slid a little closer to his guardian's leg, noting how the three new medics shifted uneasily as they looked at Prowl.
If they did not like Prowl, he already did not like them very much. But maybe they were just afraid. Silly mechs. But that did not answer the question…
"Why are they looking at us?" He asked his guardian, clinging tighter to Prowl's hand.
Ratchet was the one who answered, stepping forward with a surprisingly kind smile. "Welcome Bluestreak, Commander Prowl." Then he focused on Bluestreak. "Most of my staff have not seen much work with sparklings and this procedure hasn't been done since the war with the Quintessans; many decavorns before most of them were created. They simply want to observe how it is done."
Bluestreak pushed himself up against Prowl who looked down at him in question. Young blue optics swept over the assembled, hopeful audience and then darted up to the face of the one he trusted. "Do they have to?"
Prowl shook his helm. "Not if it makes you uncomfortable. The choice is yours."
Ratchet nodded confirmation. "Prowl is correct."
Bluestreak took a moment to think about that, studying the floor between his pedes. He wanted to be nice and let them watch, but… that many optics made him nervous. He did not want to disappoint them, but… He looked up at Prowl. "What would you do?"
Unknown to the youngling, those medics who did not know Prowl very well were working to hide their obvious disappointment at assuming what advice Prowl would give and that the youngling would follow it without question.
Prowl ignored the watching medics with an effort of will and knelt to look Bluestreak optic to optic. He had to phrase his answer carefully. "Bluestreak… my situation is unique. You should not feel compelled to handle such a decision as I would."
"But I want to know." Bluestreak pressed. Prowl always thought his decisions out.
"I would let them observe." Prowl said softly after a moment taken to search his charge's optics. Both Praxians were aware of the medics shifting as Prowl continued. "I would even let Ratchet use the opportunity to give hands-on experience if he saw fit."
The sound of multiple, sudden intakes of air punctuated the widening of Bluestreak's optics and Prowl continued quickly. "But there is no reason for you to go that far. I probably would not if my situation were different."
Bluestreak considered that for a moment, cocking his helm a fraction. "But you would let them watch?"
"Yes."
Bluestreak pressed his lip plates together then turned to look up at Ratchet and gave a nod that was not quite as confident as he had intended it to be. "Th…they can watch if they want to."
The sound of various metal plates settling over frames filled the brief silence that followed as the said medics relaxed, though now they were watching Prowl just as much as they were watching Bluestreak as the two followed Ratchet to the appropriate med berth.
Bluestreak was lifted up and settled then he was slipped into medical stasis still holding Prowl's hand. Only then did the junior medics move closer. And while the small size of their patient necessitated a relatively tight squeeze, nevertheless a definably larger space separated Prowl from the medics. He suspected First Aid at least would not be so skittish, but he was on the other side of Ratchet from him.
As Ratchet worked, Patch spared Prowl a quick glance from where he was standing directly across the berth from the tactician. "Why would you tell him you'd let one of us work on you like that?"
Implied in the young medic's tone was that he assumed Prowl had misled his charge. Prowl spared Patch a neutral glance. "Because it is true; I would."
"He has." First Aid interjected, his attention clearly split between observing his mentor and the conversation he was taking part in.
The light blue medic looked at the white and red one. "For you, First Aid. No one else, though."
"And me." Jolt corrected, drawing the surprised attention of his fellows.
Then the orange medic shifted his balance, looking at Prowl with clear hesitance. "Why would you let us, you know, work on you? Most of the Praxians on base…"
"Most officers too." The light blue mech interjected in a mutter.
"… are very particular about who they let work on them… At least in a non-emergency situation." The first one continued without missing a beat.
Prowl took a moment to look around at the gathered medics. He knew their attention was split between watching Ratchet and in questioning him. That Ratchet remained focused on his task and had not so much as grunted in disapproval of his staff's divided focus, indicated that he actually approved of it. The tactician suspected then that watching the expansion procedure was not the only – or even the primary – purpose the CMO had for gathering his primary staff here.
Prowl released a vent, looking back at the mech who had asked the question. "Because of my decisions prior to coming to Iacon, your lives have been made more treacherous. I will not add to that the unnecessary irritation of being difficult."
Various expressions flicked across the medics' faces. The femme looked unconvinced and wary, the orange one looked surprised and distrustful while the other unknown mech looked like he did not know what to believe. First Aid and jolt seemed to believe him and Patch… Patch looked as if he felt guilty he had brought the whole thing up in the first place: troubled.
He gave his youngest student a questioning look and the medic's frame heated in response. Nevertheless, he answered, meeting Prowl's gaze. "Is… is that why you are teaching us to defend ourselves? Because you feel guilty about that? Is that it?"
Prowl repressed a faint smile, despite the bite in the green medic's voice. Here, in the familiar territory of the med bay, surrounded by his peers, his usually timid student was finding more courage to speak his mind. The usual, clearly perceivable tremor in Patch's voice was gone.
Tucking his chin in an apologetic response to the undercurrent of hurt in the medic's question Prowl answered openly though still without much inflection. "My 'guilt' in the matter of Megatron's targeting of Autobot medics is well established." He hesitated for a fraction of a nanosecond, suddenly very aware of what he was saying and that he was alone; surrounded by the very medics he had once targeted. "It is the only way I can directly counteract those orders now. It is a duty I owe each of you, whether or not doing so ever mitigates my culpability."
Patch's optics flashed, though it was more pain than anger. "You mean you don't really want to teach us?"
Alarm slamming through him, Prowl's doorwings flared briefly before he regained control. Internally cursing his difficulty with interpersonal communication, he shook his helm and hastily tried to explain. "I did not say that. You asked for my reasoning and I gave it. The task is proving to be far more enjoyable than I initially anticipated."
Frag, that did not come out right either. He was about to try again, but Jolt prevented it, giving him an incredulous stare.
"You find training us to be 'enjoyable'?" He blinked. "Enjoyable?"
First Aid snorted air through his vents. "I believe Ironhide's words were: 'frustrating,' 'useless,' and 'waste of time.'"
The uneasy and clearly uncomfortable shifting of armor plates as the medics remembered the same thing First Aid had commented on made Prowl hesitate before continuing; unsure how his next words would be received.
He spoke softly, cautiously. "Ironhide is used to training mechs with combat systems and a soldier's constitution: mechs used to being dealt harshly with, mechs who are being trained to deal with the harshness of war. Frontline warriors. Part of his job is to harden mechs so that the brutal realities of combat do not destroy them mentally. His approach to training reflects that function."
Prowl had to resist the urge to shift his own armor as being the center of so many mech's incredulous attention was making him unsure of himself.
The femme was the first one to speak, her words filled with more bite than Prowl would have expected considering how reticent she had been to that point. "How would you know?"
The other two mechs who were not in his self-defense classes looked sharply at their co-worker and then back at Prowl nervously. But Prowl did not react to her accusatory tone.
"The first decaorn of my integration was spent exclusively under Ironhide's command and tutelage." He answered smoothly
"Yeah, but you were already a trained soldier. He probably never had a 'reason' to yell at you." The femme returned with even more heat than before.
Before Prowl could respond, Ratchet did so for him, his hands never slowing as he closed the panels on Bluestreak's frame and sealed them with neat, efficient strokes of his soldering tool.
He spoke without looking up from his work. "No, Livewire. Prowl was an un-trusted Decepticon defector at the time. Rest assured that not only was he on the receiving end of much more biting rants than we were, I know for a fact that at least once he was physically slammed against a wall hard enough to dent the casings on his doorwings."
To Prowl's surprise, all the junior medics reacted to that with various levels of surprise and, perhaps a touch of sympathy. Meanwhile, Prowl simply blinked at the CMO. But Ratchet continued, looking up at him before anyone else could actually say anything.
"Alright. I'm bringing him on line. From all accounts this will be as if he had upgraded not to his first, but his second youngling frame. He will probably be confused and a little frightened. Be prepared for that."
"Understood." Prowl spoke, leaning over the berth, instantly dismissing the increasingly uncomfortable conversation Ratchet had so timely interrupted.
The junior medics backed off, so as not to risk crowding Bluestreak, but did not go away completely. Prowl carefully positioned himself to be the first thing Bluestreak's optics would focus on.
A handful of astroseconds later, small systems whirred to life and Bluestreak twitched. Then his optics flickered on but he did not focus. Little vents started heaving as fear started to take over. Prowl reacted instantly, leaning forward to press the hand that was not still holding Bluestreak's to the young mechling's chassis, directly over his spark chamber.
Then, with more tenderness than any of the watching medics would have ever expected, he called to the frightened sparkling. "Bluestreak…"
… … …
Room… there was so much of it. Too much room.
It felt like a vast chasm and it was threatening to swallow his mind, his identity. He felt the panic start even as he was falling into the vast emptiness that filled his processor.
Then warmth spread through his chassis, drawing his attention away from the yawning cavern within his mind, pulling him back to physical reality, back to safety.
"Bluestreak…"
The touch on his chassis suddenly had a designation: It was his caretaker, his guardian… his Prowl. He was safe. Prowl had promised he would stay with him and he had. Prowl would not let him get lost in the void.
He struggled to look at the presence above him, to bring the world back into focus.
Then, like a switch being thrown, his vision instantly crystallized.
Bluestreak blinked up at the concerned expression on Prowl's faceplate, his doorwings telling him that others were nearby, but Prowl was all that mattered at the moment.
Why would Prowl look so worried?
Before he really had to ponder the question he knew the answer: he had panicked when he first came on line. Prowl was worried about him.
Why had he panicked?
Right: the gaping, yawning cavern in his processor.
What was that? Of course: his new expansion. He had gotten a processor expansion.
That vast chasm was still there, but it was settled, becoming more comfortable though still a little disconcerting. Different. But it was a good different.
It was not just figuring out the answers to his questions that caused the bright smile to spread across Bluestreak's lip plates; it was the speed with which he was able to do it, the stunning clarity of his thought patterns.
"Prowl! It's amazing!" He started rambling excitedly. "I can think so fast. I was scared at first because there was so much space in my head, but now it just so neat. Though it feels kinda weird, but you warned me about that, so it's okay. I can think so fast and so clearly that I… if this is what a youngling's processor is like, I can't wait till I get my next frame and get to see what an adult's processor is like."
Prowl smiled faintly at the hastily delivered ramble and it was as if the Prime himself was beaming down at him.
Bluestreak did not know he was moving until Prowl's hand slid off his chassis. Then he was using that same hand to pull himself to his pedes. "I'm so glad you're my caretaker-guardian, Prowl."
Barely registering the widening of said mech's optics, let alone the consternation expressed by a handful of the medical staff, Bluestreak stepped up to the edge of the berth he was now standing on and threw his arms around Prowl's armor.
One of the medics, the green one Prowl was teaching to defend himself, chuckled softly. But Bluestreak could care less as Prowl's arm circled around him. Then, remembering the one who actually did the work of installing his processor expansion, Bluestreak turned around in his guardian's embrace to look up at Ratchet.
"Thank you Ratchet." He smiled shyly.
Ratchet was looking at him kindly. "You are welcome. And; you are free to go." He held up a cautioning hand. "You might experience a processor ache in the next couple of orns – that was a fairly large jump in processor size from sparkling to second frame youngling – and if it gets too bad, ask Prowl to bring you back here. Also, you will probably need some additional energon as your new processor expansion fully integrates."
Bluestreak nodded. It was good to be talked to, not just talked at. Most mechs talked at him. Except Prowl. And the Prime. He wondered briefly if his guardian knew how much he was like the Prime. Or the other way around. They even had the same color optics now.
But then he brushed that thought aside and turned to climb onto Prowl's frame.
He was really going to miss being able to do that when he upgraded to his adult frame. Perhaps it was a good thing that was still at least a vorn off into the future. He would be sure to enjoy it as much as possible while he could.
Yes, that was a good plan. And it was logical too; Prowl would no doubt agree with him.
… … …
Early the next orn, Prowl was headed to the tactical command. He had only allowed himself the minimum necessary time in recharge, having used the precious few additional joors to finalize his reorganization plans for Smokescreen as well as the training regimen for the front-line response teams. Never would he willingly admit to another living being that worry over the other mech's reactions to those plans had plagued him and were, perhaps, the primary reason he kept reviewing and tweaking his reports.
Both were relatively easy tasks and – had he not had all the additional baggage of his situation to deal with – they would have been completed mere joors after having been assigned.
But things were not as easy as they should have been. While he believed Smokescreen would back him, that did not guarantee universal or even widespread acceptance.
He was just reaching for the lift controls when he heard his designation called from further down the corridor. "Prowl. Prowl, wait!"
Blinking, he looked that direction to see other mechs looking as well, only to move aside like parting doors as a white, green and orange frame pushed past them. Prowl saw curiosity as well as concern on their faceplates, even as Wheeljack broke free of the more crowded area and hurried toward him.
Casting one more wary glance at the other mechs, Prowl focused on the engineer coming to stand before him with heaving vents.
"Yes Wheeljack?" He asked politely.
But Wheeljack just stared at him; not responding to the question, his optics wide, and mouth open to say words that apparently never made it past his vocalizer.
Discomfited, Prowl tried again. "Is something wrong?"
The larger mech just stared at him dumbly, optics flicking randomly over his frame. "You're an Autobot now… a lieutenant commander."
The words were said loud enough they elicited a few chuckles from those at the other end of the corridor, a handful of whom paused to see what was going to happen.
Prowl just stared, wondering what closet the engineer had been hiding in for the past two decaorns that either of those two things should come as a surprise. His answer was hesitant, more of a question than simply confirmation of Wheeljack's observations. "Yes?"
Wheeljack's optics flicked up from the engravings on his chassis to his optics and he slumped visibly. "And you have been for a while, haven't you?"
"Not very long." Prowl heard himself reassuring the crest-fallen mech.
"Still, I should have known." Wheeljack fidgeted nervously. "I think I remember someone telling me about that now, but it just did not fully register." The engineer looked down sheepishly. "See, that is what happens when I'm working on a project. I spend orns in my lab and the outside world just blurs together."
Reminded of the green and white mech's youngling-like earnestness, Prowl relaxed. "There is no need to explain, I…"
"Oh, but there is." Wheeljack stepped forward to grasp Prowl's arm.
Prowl stiffened at the contact, but it was impossible for the tactician to take offense because of the mech's demeanor, even if those watching tensed as if waiting for him to explode at the engineer. Not that Wheeljack gave him much time, he started his explanation in a breathless ramble, whether or not Prowl wanted to hear it.
"See… I've been working on a project for the last three decaorn and when I work on a project like this one… well… I sorta loose track of everything else."
Prowl nodded, not sure why he was being told this.
Wheeljack seemed to suddenly realize he was touching Prowl and jerked his hand away as if it were scorched, then clasped both hands sheepishly in front of him.
"See," Wheeljack continued. "That's why I didn't take you up on your offer to, you know, train me. Why I can't. I didn't even think about it until I finished what I was working on earlier this orn."
"I understand." Prowl's words did not sound all that confident even to his own audios.
Wheeljack did not seem to notice that as relief flooded his frame. "You do? That's good, because I didn't want you to think I was being rude or anything – not that forgetting isn't rude – it's just I didn't do it on purpose and, well… yeah. Sorry."
Prowl discovered he was having to fight back a tiny smile at how the ramble reminded him of Bluestreak. Just like before, that earnest forgetful enthusiasm helped mitigate any irritation he might have had.
"Do not trouble yourself over the matter." He told the engineer gently. "Are you sure you do not want to accept the offer?"
Wheeljack's optics brightened, then dimmed as he hunched away. "I can't, that's what I was explaining. See, it has nothing to do with not wanting to, but… When I get focused like that I… forget. First Aid told me the commitment you asked for and – even if I wanted to – I can't promise I'd keep it because I know I will forget the next time I get caught up in a project."
Prowl just stared, the mech before him was now looking at his pedes. Wheeljack had tracked him down just to explain that – and Wheeljack had had to detail what he obviously knew to be a personal foible in order to do so. The warmth heating the engineer's frame attested to how difficult that had been. No doubt his being a former Decepticon had made it even harder for Wheeljack to open up to him.
Prowl's respect for the quirky engineer's character increased as he considered this and that respect found its way into his voice. "I understand, Wheeljack. Thank you for explaining."
Wheeljack relaxed, a bright smile lighting his face as he lifted it back up to face him. "You aren't upset with me?"
Prowl shook his helm, touching the other mech's shoulder briefly. "Of course not, Wheeljack. In fact, I appreciate your taking the time to explain."
Armor flared across the white and green frame as air gusted through Wheeljack's vents in relief. "First Aid said you'd understand. Please believe me, I am very grateful you are willing to teach me. That alone means a lot."
Prowl nodded. "Should you change your mind, do not hesitate to ask."
"I will… uh. Oh… my." The bright smile fell from Wheeljack's lip plates as one hand went to his audio, indicating an internal comm. message, then he refocused on Prowl. "That was Perceptor. Something's uh… well… I gotta go. Sorry."
With that the engineer spun around and hurried back down the corridor with a sudden urgency that made Prowl a touch uneasy and had mechs jumping out of his way.
The delay caused by watching Wheeljack finally disappear was enough to give another mech the opportunity to join him at the lift. Prowl shifted his attention to the new mech, nodding a carefully formal greeting.
"Trailbreaker."
Trailbreaker glanced up at him then quickly averted his gaze, though it was not exactly an action born of respect. "Commander."
There was a wealth of conflicting emotions in that one word: nervousness, embarrassment, shame, frustration, anger, distrust and even a touch of worried determination.
Prowl frowned internally as he stepped onto the lift, followed closely by the other tactician. He did not think Trailbreaker finding him here was strictly coincidental. But he was hesitant to push the other mech, as an almost tangible level of fear suddenly spiked through Trailbreaker as the lift doors closed them into the tiny space together.
Then, with a surge of intensity, Trailbreaker reached forward and slapped the controls and the lift jerked to a halt between levels.
Not expecting that, Prowl looked at the other tactician to see that Trailbreaker was looking at where his hand still touched the lift controls, vents flared.
Still struck with the suspicion that if he pushed too hard, Trailbreaker would bolt rather than bring up what was bothering him, Prowl settled for sending a generic and polite questioning ping to the other tactician.
Trailbreaker stiffened, armor flinching over his frame. Then, still refusing to look up, he very softly murmured toward the lift controls. "I need to report unprofessional behavior."
Prowl blinked, tactical computers working, comparing Trailbreaker's behavior over the last decaorn and began to understand what he had been seeing. He spoke cautiously. "If you feel you should."
But Trailbreaker did not say anything, he just continued to stare at where his fingers touched the lift control.
Clearing his vents, Prowl spoke to what he believed the other mech's concern might be. "You went out of your way to ensure a private setting to tell me. I will respect your wish for anonymity…"
Trailbreaker flinched then shook his helm, determinedly looking up at him. "I'm not reporting anyone else. I'm reporting myself."
Prowl blinked, not exactly expecting that, beginning to dread where he thought this conversation was headed. "Go on." He said quite unwillingly.
Looking away again Trailbreaker complied. "Don't misunderstand me. I'm still unhappy you got promoted over me, but… That doesn't mean I was right to participate in their schemes. I should have been more respectful of the position you now occupy if nothing else."
Prowl's vents flared as he understood what was coming. He did not bother allowing himself to be offended as his processors immediately snagged on the larger issues involved. He was about to be given a confession he did not want to hear because it would likely necessitate discipline. He had only had his position a decaorn. He doubted that him assigning punishments would go over well. At all.
Nevertheless, he would do what duty required of him and called up the applicable regulations. He addressed Trailbreaker in wary, resigned tones, trying one more time to head off what seemed inevitable. "According to Core Division policy 72.34 section three, paragraph two and General Conduct Code section eighteen, paragraph five; unprofessional behavior as a general offense only necessitates the mildest forms of reprimand, Trailbreaker. You need not expound further…"
Trailbreaker's optics snapped up to his, blazing hotly as he interrupted Prowl. "Sunstreaker said you were a tight-aft. I see he's right. I was feeling guilty about listening to them and all. Now I…" He seemed to notice then that Prowl had gone even more rigid, his optics flashing.
The younger tactician flinched. "Frag. I… Um…"
"Stop." Prowl held up a hand and Trailbreaker fell silent, optics widening in fright. Prowl continued. "Sunstreaker, Sideswipe and I had a less than cordial relationship before the war, in that they were criminals and I was an Enforcer. You would be wise to seek other views than theirs by which to inform your own opinions."
Prowl's optics narrowed as Trailbreaker opened his mouth, not letting the other mech speak. "I am not trying to prevent you from engaging in gossip because I know that is a normal occurrence. All I ask is that you put more stock in your own observations than those coming from a clearly biased source. Can you give me your word you will try to do that, Trailbreaker?"
Trailbreaker regarded him closely for a long handful of astroseconds then nodded cautiously. "Yes. You deserve that much I suppose… sir."
With the anger fading from the other tactician's voice and mien, it was almost impossible to miss the residual pain that lingered there. Prowl could see it in the lines of Trailbreaker's armor, the barely audible hitch in his voice. The black and white mech looked away, feeling a pang of sympathy with that pain, despite how hostile Trailbreaker had been.
… … …
To Trailbreaker's surprise, the former Decepticon averted his own intense gaze respectfully. The words that followed, as emotionless as they were, still brimmed with quiet sincerity.
"Trailbreaker, I know you are upset that I was promoted over you. You have every right to be. And if you, Fusion, or the others find legitimate reason to convince the Prime to revoke that promotion, I will step down without protest. Until such time, however, I will fulfill my duties to the best of my abilities."
It was all Trailbreaker could do not to flinch as Prowl lifted his cobalt optics back to his own. "I ask for your professional cooperation for the good of the department. All the reasons I could give you would sound self-serving. But you are intelligent, you have been in my position; I know you understand."
There it was again.
First was Prowl's admonition to trust his own observations and now Prowl was encouraging him to use his own reasoning, his own initiative. Decepticon commanders were not known for doing that.
He frowned. "What if my own reasoning is that you should not be second in command of the tactical department?"
Prowl did not even flinch, despite the undeniable bite to Trailbreaker's words; his stoic gaze remained unmoved. "Then I expect you to report such conclusions to the Prime. As I have said; if it is best for this department that I not hold such a position, I will relinquish it."
Before Trailbreaker could reply, the optics that now studied him sharpened and Trailbreaker's spinal struts stiffened instinctively. "In return, Trailbreaker, I ask that you put forth an honest effort to determine the truth as to whether this is a position I should or should not hold."
Trailbreaker could only stare.
Prowl knew he had been gossiping with the Twins. Prowl knew he did not like him. Prowl knew he was already coming to their relationship with a chip on his shoulder and a well-set bias. That he would make such a request at all, rather than become equally defensive, did not mesh with the image Trailbreaker had created of the black and white Praxian in his processor.
He felt the walls of his carefully crafted resentment weaken. Well-spoken words would not bring them down entirely, but Trailbreaker slowly determined he would do his best to give Prowl an honest chance. Something he should have done from the beginning.
However, no sooner had he made that decision than Trailbreaker remembered how this conversation had begun. Then he almost smirked. What better way to test Prowl than to see what he would do as punishment for such a personally insulting infraction of the regulations?
Trailbreaker nodded. "I cannot promise to be unbiased because I already am. But you know that. I will do my best to do as you have asked, however."
Prowl ducked his helm briefly in gratitude, acceptance and - Trailbreaker suspected – relief. "My thanks, Trailbreaker."
Trailbreaker returned the gesture. "Now… as I said initially; I need to report unprofessional behavior."
He saw Prowl stiffen, thought he saw reluctance in the blue crystalline depths of his optics. But the Praxian regained control of his expression before he could be sure and nodded.
Taking that as permission to continue Trailbreaker started to speak but paused. It felt incredibly weird to be confessing like this. Then he reminded himself of his ultimate purpose in doing so and it girded his struts for the task.
"I participated in the spreading of potentially libelous and patently unprofessional rumors concerning you, my superior officer."
Prowl did not seem surprised, though he did hesitate before asking calmly. "Do you have the designations of any other mechs involved in the incident you wish to divulge?"
It was a standard type of question to ask, but that did not stop Trailbreaker's engine from revving at the implications. "Incidences, sir. More than one." He felt a pang of guilt, but tried to push it away, getting back to what had insulted him. "And no. I'm not going to get anyone else in trouble."
Prowl nodded once, seemingly unaffected by the increasing hostility in his tone. "Do you wish to expand on the nature of the rumors?"
It was the persona of a mech who had questioned too many criminals in his days to take anything said to him in such a situation truly personally, though Trailbreaker did not think about it from that angle.
Trailbreaker bliked. "I…" Shame unexpectedly flooded his system. Yes, he was using this to test Prowl, but he suddenly realized he was forcing the other mech to confront such an unpleasant issue in a way that all but rubbed his faceplate in the fact that very insulting rumors had been spread about him.
Trailbreaker found he had averted his gaze. "No, sir."
Prowl's voice was even quieter, reluctant even, when he asked his next question. "Is there anything else you wish to bring to my attention concerning this?"
Deflating, Trailbreaker shook his helm in defeat. "No, sir."
Prowl merely nodded again and then reached forward, past Trailbreaker, to resume the lift's progress. As the Praxian remained silent, the tension within Trailbreaker continued to build. What was Prowl thinking? What was Prowl going to do to him? Should he have said more? Had he said too much?
Along with those thoughts was the nibbling of guilt. Not for 'confessing' to his transgressions –which he knew were real and had been unbecoming of a mech of his standards. He knew he should have followed his spark and not listen to Sunstreaker and Sideswipe let alone participate. Perhaps he should…
The lift chimed and the doors slid open. Prowl stepped halfway out then hesitated as if reluctant to speak. When he did, he kept his gaze forward.
"I expect a full report on this matter in which you will consult all relevant regulations and policies that cover such matters and behavior along with a detailed analysis of the rationales behind the given regulations." Prowl looked back at him then. "Understood?"
Trailbreaker stared. Words like 'full report' and 'detailed analysis' meant one thing to most mechs. But Prowl was a tactician speaking to another tactician: those words carried far greater implications to them. He nodded. "Yes sir."
Then, of all things, the light in Prowl's optics softened. "Incriminate yourself no further and there will be no additional repercussions."
Trailbreaker felt his lower mandible drop. Such an analysis was sparkling-play for any tactician, though he did not doubt that the reflection on his behavior in light of the regulations would be uncomfortable. He had been convinced that this assignment had only been a prelude, a bid to gain more evidence against him.
"That's it?" He asked dumbly.
Prowl regarded him for a moment, looking resigned. "That would be my preference. Please; do not force me to do more than that."
Prowl held Trailbreaker's gaze for a moment longer then turned and walked down the corridor toward the tactical command. Left on the lift, Trailbreaker could only stare, his processor spinning.
He had assumed Prowl's warning about 'light reprimands' when he had first announced his intentions had been a cold-sparked attempt to make his life a living pit. Now he suspected it had been a warning; an attempt to get him to shut up before he talked himself into harsher punishments.
Trailbreaker suddenly suspected that while easy to compile, his report was going to be rather painful to compose.
… … …
Fusion watched Prowl walk into tactical command and felt his systems heat with frustration. That frustration turned into concern as a rather subdued Trailbreaker followed. He tracked Prowl's progress as he crossed the center to Smokescreen's office, but he did not move from his station until the door closed behind him.
Quietly, the copper and blue Praxian pushed away from his terminal and approached Trailbreaker.
"What happened?" He asked softly.
Trailbreaker glanced up at him. "Nothing bad. Uncomfortable, but not bad."
"With Prowl?" Fusion demanded, optics narrowing.
The other tactician seemed uneasy, looking back at his screen rather than continue to meet his gaze. "Yes."
Fusion's engine revved. "Something we should report to the Prime?"
"What? No. No." Trailbreaker shook his helm quickly.
Fusion watched his co worker thoughtfully and decided to change the subject. "He is going to start training response teams this orn." Trailbreaker nodded and Fusion frowned. "Someone should observe those sessions."
Trailbreaker's optics flicked to Smokescreen's closed door. "He knows some of us are looking for a reason to protest his promotion. Including you. He said he wouldn't fight if we found something."
"If he has nothing to hide…" Fusion started to proclaim but the door slid open, cutting him off.
Smokescreen walked out, followed closely by Prowl. A short databurst from their department commander had Fusion joining the rest of the staff around the main terminal.
Very briefly, Smokescreen laid out how the department would be organized from that point forward. There were surprisingly few changes and, as resistant as Fusion wanted to be over the whole matter, he could not argue how logical the changes were, nor how much more efficient they would make the department.
Once they were dismissed, Fusion started to head back to his terminal but Smokescreen called his designation. "Fusion."
Fusion straightened, turning back to his boss. "Yes, sir?"
Smokescreen nodded to the black and white tactician beside him. "Prowl has asked for assistance with the response team training modules. I have decided to assign the task to you."
"Me?" Fusion looked over at Prowl, who was merely regarding him with impassive optics and he felt the plating around his own tighten. "Yes, sir."
Smokescreen looked back at Prowl as well and Fusion could tell something passed between them. He watched as Prowl met Smokescreen's gaze for a long moment and then nodded with what seemed like reluctance acceptance.
Younger and older Praxians watched Smokescreen walk back to his office. Once he was gone, Fusion suddenly realized he had just been handed exactly what he had wanted.
"The first two teams will be in the training room in ten breems." Prowl's irritatingly calm voice interrupted his thoughts and Fusion turned to see he was gesturing toward the tactical command center's doors. "Shall we?"
Fusion nodded stiffly and then followed the higher-ranking tactician to the lifts. It rankled that a former Decepticon should be so high ranking not even a vorn after his defection. None of the other defectors they had had in their forces had made it to such a rank at all, let alone so soon. He knew, he had done the case-study research on the topic himself.
Now he pulled up the relevant regulations to see if he could find something, anything, to give his cause legal merit.
As the doors to the lift shut, closing him in with Prowl, the older tactician spoke again. "I have established a set of parameters by which each team will be evaluated. Once the exercise is complete we will combine our observations into a format that will determine what additional training is necessary."
Fusion received a polite ping on his communication system that indicated a data file had been sent to him. Prowl continued. "Please familiarize yourself with the parameters."
Fusion's optics narrowed as his malware programs scanned and then rescanned the data file before he grudgingly opened it. He set a portion of his processors onto the task of familiarizing himself with the file as he had been asked, while the rest continued to ponder over his primary concern; what legal basis did he have to keep a strict optic on Prowl?
Even as Fusion observed the response teams and noted his evaluations of them based on the parameters Prowl had given him, a part of his processor continued to compile his legal case for enforcing Prowl's remaining probationary period.
Interestingly, he found what he needed in the Prime's official promotion documentation. "…this rank is probationary, as is the position this will elevate him to within the tactical department. However, upon successful completion of his probationary period of one vorn, it will be made permanent…"
He smiled faintly to himself, even as he made a mark on a datapad regarding the current simulation that was running.
That combined with the appropriate regulations defining a defector's probationary period and he felt he had a solid case. His engine almost hummed with anticipation of when he would have the chance to test that on Prowl. He knew he was right. If Prowl fought him on the matter, the former Decepticon would find himself in a slag-load of trouble. Even the Prime could not look the other way.
Satisfied, Fusion turned his full attention back to the task he had been given by his probationary commander. Even though he maintained a vigilant watch for something suspicious, he could not deny that Prowl knew what he was doing, and that he was an excellent teacher.
The initial sessions only took a handful of joors and then they were headed back to the tactical command. Prowl led him to a somewhat isolated terminal where they would not be disturbed.
Fusion watched warily as Prowl slid onto a stool and gestured to another one.
The black and white Praxian spoke softly when Fusion made no move to sit. "This analysis will be easier and quicker if we utilize a tandem approach to…"
Fusion rocked back with alarm. He did not trust Prowl – respect yes, albeit grudgingly, for his obvious skills and abilities as well as his current willingness to use them for the Autobots' benefit – but he was a long way from trust. Especially enough to allow the mech access to his processor like that.
Prowl had gone still at his reaction, watching him with equal wariness. And yet the provisional commander waited for Fusion to regain himself and for the younger mech to make the next move.
Fusion blinked, restarting his processor only for it to recall his original intent; the cause that had kept him somewhat distracted during the training sessions. It was time to put his pede down and see what happened.
His optics narrowed suspiciously as he straightened, letting his doorwings flare ever so faintly. "Autobot General Operating Policy 27.3.61, subsection two, paragraph three and Articles of War 53.9 section five, dealing with the integration of Decepticon Defectors, in conjunction with twenty-three previous precedents as well as the official status of your own promotion stipulates that since you are still on probation for the remainder of one vorn tandem processes are to be strictly avoided."
Fusion's vents were heaving with his internal stress as Prowl just looked at him for a long moment. Perhaps he was accessing the appropriate regulations. Perhaps. Perhaps he was calculating possible retribution instead.
Then Prowl's doorwings flared gently. "You are correct, Fusion." He pulled a data hub from subspace and set it on the terminal. It was the same one they had used when he had been the former Decepticon's monitor. "Will this suffice?"
Fusion could only stare dumbly at the higher-ranking mech's easy capitulation. He had expected some form of resistance, or at the very least indignation if not outright refusal. Any of which would have given him reason to report him to the Prime. But, deprived of that, Fusion found he did not have a metaphorical leg left to stand on.
He managed to nod, though he also wondered exactly how far he might be able to push the matter.
Even so, he watched in near blank surprise as Prowl calmly inserted the appropriate cord into his port and then turned expectant optics up to him. Hand convulsing into a fist before he forced himself into the available chair, Fusion took his own cord and connected it to the hub.
As before he met those massive, truly impressive firewalls.
"Will you trust me to give access to all applicable files or are you requesting the same general access you required of me while you were serving as my monitor?" Prowl's infuriatingly serene voice pulled Fusion's attention back to the task at hand.
Why would Prowl – with the rank of lieutenant commander – be cooperating so freely? What game was he playing? He could only stare as his processor started throwing up all the possible reasons Prowl might make such an offer. True, he might be entirely earnest, but it could also be an attempt to throw him off and relax his standards.
The part of Fusion's processor that had learned to be suspicious of all Decepticons – even supposedly rehabilitated ones – screamed its warnings across his CPU with such urgency it was impossible to ignore.
"By your silence I assume the later would make you feel more at ease."
Fusion shook his helm. "No offense or anything Commander, but I'm not exactly going to feel at 'ease' with this regardless."
He wanted to slam his hand over his mouth but settled for internally cursing his tendency to speak before more carefully considering his words. He was not going to say anything else on the matter.
But Prowl's silent, bland expression seemed to reach inside him and drag an explanation out of his vocalizer. Fusion heard himself speaking, rambling almost, just in an unconscious effort to elicit some reaction out of the older Praxian.
"I know you've helped us with one offensive battle and you saved Iacon. As amazing as that was, you are still a former Decepticon who – by your own admission – ordered some pretty horrendous things against the Autobots. You are still on probation for another vorn and it was way too premature for you to be given such a position and rank. So, lieutenant commander or not, I do not trust you."
Then he waited again, vents heaving with mounting anxiety as he realized what Prowl could, conceivably, do to him after that as his commanding officer… even if it was only a provisional position.
Instead, those stoic optics had only sharpened as he had spoken. Then, once he had let the silence sit for a handful of seconds, the edge of Prowl's frame lost its rigidness.
"Your assessment of the situation matches my own, Fusion." Prowl spoke softly.
Fusion blinked, not expecting that. It startled him into volunteering: "Trailbreaker claimed you said you wouldn't protest if I find cause to convince the Prime to revoke your promotion."
"Indeed." Prowl nodded and through the hardline connection Fusion could feel the other Praxian's sincerity. "But that is a conversation for another time. For now, we should proceed with the task at hand."
Then, as if that was not enough, the outermost layer of those impressive firewalls dissolved, granting him the same level of restricted, general access he had demanded Prowl give him as his monitor.
When Prowl's expression turned a hint wry, Fusion realized he was gaping.
"Shall we proceed now?" It was asked with a barely cocked optic ridge. And Fusion had to blink.
Despite the position of weakness and scrutiny Prowl had just placed himself in, Fusion was struck with the strut-deep realization that Prowl was the one in charge of the moment. He was not just a high-ranking Decepticon defector; he was a leader. Perhaps not as inherently powerful as the Prime or Ultra Magnus, but in many ways, just as compelling.
And he was definitely in command at the moment. For all that Fusion had tried to manipulate him into allowing this, Prowl had not been manipulated at all. He had instead reacted compassionately to the concerns of one of his subordinates and had followed the spirit of the regulations for his sake more than just because they were there. Fusion did not want to accept that, even though in his spark he knew it to be true.
Fusion nodded quickly to Prowl's order because it was phrased as a question, knowing his agreement was rather superfluous. He was not quite able to meet Prowl's gaze. "Yes, sir."
It was an instinctively respectful response to the aura of authority that radiated off the former Enforcer and Fusion realized this was not going to be a comfortable experience for him.
Perhaps even less so than for Prowl.
… … …
Smokescreen watched his mentor and the younger Praxian from across the tactical command center. He had worried, when first selecting Fusion to be the one to help Prowl with training the response teams, that he might have made matters harder for Prowl. Yet, when he had offered Prowl a different option, Prowl had refused, stating merely that he believed it to be a task Fusion would perform well.
He knew Prowl had not been ignorant of Fusion's lingering dislike and distrust, so he had been willing to trust his mentor's assessment.
However, now – seeing that blasted data hub sitting on the terminal between them, seeing the faint grimace that had settled onto Prowl's faceplate – Smokescreen was half a processor to go over there and put an end to it.
Prowl was a lieutenant commander; two whole ranks above Fusion and second in command of the department, for Primus' sake.
He should not be working like that. True, Prowl would only have consented to such a thing for good cause, but he also knew his mentor well enough – had been in his head enough the last few quartex, to also know that guilt over his past as a Decepticon could easily make Prowl feel obligated to allow himself to be debased in such a way.
It was wrong. Smokescreen's engine growled lowly.
He was surprised to find that it hurt to see that being done to Prowl; surprised that his sense of loyalty and dedication to Prowl as a trusted mentor – as a commander even, though he was careful not to let on to that – had so quickly returned to what it had been before Prowl had gone with Megatron.
Perhaps even more than before, though that might be attributable to lingering guilt over the physical and mental torment he had caused Prowl to endure.
Smokescreen started toward the two other Praxians, but as he passed the mech's terminal, Trailbreaker put a hand on his arm, stopping him. "Smokey, don't."
Smokescreen's optics narrowed on his former second in command. "Just because you are upset he got promoted over you does not mean Prowl should still be treated like an enemy."
Trailbreaker had the good graces to wince at that. "Alright. I deserved that. But that isn't what I mean."
Letting the irritated flare of his armor relax, Smokescreen gave Trailbreaker a blink. "Then what do you mean?"
Trailbreaker nodded toward where Prowl and Fusion were quietly discussing something, the older Praxian pointing to something on the screen, by way of explanation. "Prowl needs Fusion to trust him, to stop fighting him. That is the best way."
Smokescreen did not respond, he just let his expression speak his disbelief. Trailbreaker averted his gaze. "You trusted my judgment in such matters once, Smokescreen."
Smokescreen stiffened. "But I'm not blind that you don't trust him."
Trailbreaker held his gaze for a long moment and then looked down, yielding. "No. And I'm not convinced it isn't too early for him to be your second in command. But I'm not blind either. I know he's got the skills and abilities to actually run the department – and that might even happen some orn – but… He's still in his probationary period. And he will be for one vorn, by the Prime's own word."
Taking in a sharp draft of air at that calmly, almost sadly, delivered statement, Smokescreen started to reply, but Trailbreaker looked back up at him, cutting him off. "But… I can also admit that, so far, he's been willing to do whatever it takes to earn our trust. And if… or when… he does, that trust will be far stronger, more solid, if you don't interfere now."
Smokescreen could only stare. Trailbreaker flashed him a tiny, miserable smile. It was the expression of a spark-felt ache; of someone coming to grips with a painful reality. Then the other mech broke the contact and turned his attention back to the two Praxians on the far side of the tactical command center.
"Commander Prowl is laying the foundations of trust." Trailbreaker continued quietly. "Despite all he has done for us so far in his short time among us, or how much he might do in the future, it won't be spectacular acts of valor or stunning skill that will win mechs over. It will be that." He pointed toward the two. "The consistent willingness to work for that trust."
Smokescreen huffed a gust of air, demonstrating his discontent. "Mechs won't respect him as a leader like that."
Trailbreaker canted him a look. "Trust me, Smokescreen. There is no mistaking the fact that he is a leader. It is very hard to miss when he chooses to let it be known."
Smokescreen had to admit that with a short, wry snort of air through his vents. Trailbreaker's words made sense, he realized, as much as he did not want them to. He did not expect to hear such words coming from his former second in command, not about Prowl, even though Trailbreaker had always been a mech of keen insight. Probably related to the fact he had been a psychologist before the war.
The gray and white Praxian gave a short, acquiescing nod even as he continued to consider his former second in command, a mech the war had brought into his life and who had become a friend over the near decavorn they had been serving the Autobots together.
With a grimace, Smokescreen realized he had not been much of a friend to Trailbreaker since Prowl's promotion. A sense of loyalty to Prowl had made him defensive and, knowing Trailbreaker's hostility toward Prowl, he had distanced himself. How much had he contributed to the melancholy he saw in those dark blue optics that stared back at him?
He had not been there for Trailbreaker when he had needed the support of their friendship.
Smokescreen ducked his helm. "You have needed to get some issues off your chassis, Trailbreaker. I have not been there for you. I'm sorry."
Trailbreaker looked away, not meeting his gaze. The hints of shame and embarrassment Smokescreen had seen glimpses of now radiated off him clearly. "Perhaps if I had not acted as improperly I would have sought you out instead. But I knew you sided with Prowl and that wasn't what I wanted."
Engine whining faintly, Smokescreen shook his helm. "Please, don't say anything that will force me to take disciplinary actions."
To his great surprise, a rueful smile touched Trailbreaker's lip plates. "That disciplinary action has already been seen to." He flicked a finger toward Prowl.
Alarm shot through Smokescreen anew and his answer was guarded accordingly. "I see."
"Don't worry, Smokescreen." Trailbreaker grew more serious. "I respect how Prowl handled it. And I will not be repeating those behaviors."
Smokescreen could only stare, rendered speechless. Prowl had punished Trailbreaker and, somehow, it resulted in Trailbreaker being less hostile toward him? He settled for nodding as he tried to figure out how to respond.
Before he could, however, an urgent comm. signal pinged across Smokescreen's CPU. He accessed it immediately, only to realize it was a conference signal.
/Ratchet to Prowl and Smokescreen. Respond./
/Prowl here./ His mentor's digital voice was calm as ever. Reassuring.
/ Smokescreen here. What is it?/ Smokescreen added immediately.
Ratchet was a moment in replying and when it was, his irritation was tangible. /I need Prowl to report to the med bay immediately. As his immediate commanding officer, I need you to come as well./
Prowl was looking at him from across the tactical command center and Smokescreen understood even as his tanks lurched: Though Prowl was the subject of the CMO's comm., it was directed at Smokescreen. Prowl was letting him answer it.
/We are on our way./ Smokescreen told Ratchet with more trepidation than he allowed into his voice.
And, within a handful of astroseconds they were leaving the tactical command center, Prowl falling into step behind and slightly to his right. They walked without speaking, neither mech willing to verbally speculate what they might be walking into.
… … …
Prowl followed Smokescreen to the med bay, concern at the urgent summons manifesting itself only in the neutral mask that settled completely over his features and the slight flare of his doorwings. In his experience, it was never a good thing to be called some place specifically in the company of one's senior officer.
When they arrived, the med bay was different than Prowl had ever seen it before. Yes, there was a flurry of urgent activity as one would expect if there was a medical emergency, but there were also a plethora of other, non-medical and clearly non-injured mechs standing around the periphery of the primary patient ward and surgical suite.
No doubt the 'invasion' of healthy mechs had to be irritating the testy CMO, which lead to the obvious question as to why he was allowing it without protest.
It took a moment, as he and Smokescreen came to a stop just inside the doors, but as Prowl started recognizing the designations of some of the mechs present he realized what he was seeing. It was a mirror to the scenes he had experienced back in the Praxian medical Center following a major Enforcer action.
Only then did his doorwings register the identity of the two mechs laying on the berths… or rather identified the single spark that resonated weakly between them. He had just enough time to meet Smokescreen's nervous glance before Inferno, Red Alert and Viper approached them, Ratchet following behind, clearly unhappy.
Smokescreen stepped forward, chin lifting defensively of his mentor turned subbordinate. "What happened?"
Red Alert crossed his arms unhappily. "That's what we wanted to ask you. Or rather him." He gestured toward Prowl.
"Me?" The pointless question slipped out Prowl's vocalizer before he could catch it.
Inferno looked at him, hurt clear in his optics. Then the second in command of security drew himself up officially, meeting Prowl's gaze firmly, all trace of personal feelings banished as he became intentionally professional. "From what we can tell Prowl, you were the last one to see them before they were assaulted."
I know… that was a horrible place to leave it. But it was just so perfect! *Pathetic puppy eyes* If it was a TV show you all know they'd take a commercial break or have a "To Be Continued…" after a moment like that. Anyway, before you get too upset and start sending me hate-reviews, I promised after chapter 23 that Prowl would only move forward from that point. That is still the case… It just looks bad right now. Don't worry this situation will be resolved in the next chapter (at least as far as Prowl's involvement).
Second Note: That quote from Prowl's official promotion documentation that Fusion used as his justification was actually a different version of what Prime said to him upon granting his promotion in chapter 33.
Third Note: I'm glad I've decided to avoid a long time jump, even though it will extend the length of this story substantially. There are a lot of fun and exciting things coming… things I hadn't even thought about before because I was going to skip over it all. I have also considered the possibility of doing some short little snippets set in the same 'verse as this story. For example: What it was like for the medics to train with Ironhide? Perhaps some of the more poignant moments of the story from another POV (like Optimus watching Prowl disembark when he was first brought to Iacon etc…), or other back story/side story issues like Bluestreak and Bumblebee playing and what do they REALLY do all orn? Primarily I am considering this because some of the things you guys wanted to see explored really won't fit that well into the flow of the story and will bog the main plot down if I incorporate them into Turning Points. No, doing these one-shots will not distract from this story, so don't worry about that. But I'd like to know if that type of thing will have any support and if it does, what type of issues you might want to see.
