Greetings, I know its been a while… almost a whole month. Eeek.
Well, guess what? I learned something interesting. My computer isn't always saving the changes I make and/or randomly reverts to previous versions of a document. I went to do an edit of this chapter and saw a few words that were misspelled, but I knew I had already fixed them… and I looked at the most recent printed version of it and… I HAD! The words were CORRECT on the printed version! Ooooh, I wanted to scream and yell and throw the whole thing out the window and then kick it for good measure. But I didn't… though I do now have a headache from gritting my teeth so hard. :) Anyway, I have no idea how long that has been going on. Or… maybe the grammar gremlins are real after all…
Anyway, just be grateful I got this chapter out at all… now I have some more computer troubleshooting to do… Yay… NOT.
Back in Iacon, Prowl – along with all the Iacon mechs who had been damaged in the battle for Stanix – reported to the med bay. Ratchet's nearly furious orders to that effect had rung through the transport ships' communication systems even before the vessels had been given permission to land. Prowl did not understand the necessity, seeing as most of them had been fully repaired in Stanix.
A few cases, like himself, had temporary patches that would need permanent repairs in their home base. Prowl accepted that and had planned to report to the med bay as soon as he had reported with Smokescreen to the Prime. But a direct order from the CMO overruled even his own department commander's preference.
A department commander who had already been released from the med bay because his original injuries had been relatively minor.
Prowl on the other hand was, at that moment, sitting on one of the berths in the med bay, Trailbreaker sitting on the berth next to him. They were waiting for Ratchet, who had started at the other end of the ward, to get to them. They watched the chartreuse medic work his way up the line of waiting warriors. As he saw the way Ratchet carefully scanned each mech and each repair before either dismissing them or ordering more work done, Prowl began to understand the CMO's reasoning.
It was not that Ratchet did not trust the Stanix medics to do their job. Rather he was showing an almost caretaker-level of protectiveness, if not possessiveness, for the warriors under his care… in his gruff, rather brusque way.
It was a relatively startling revelation to make.
"I should have been a better shot." Trailbreaker said suddenly, breaking into Prowl's contemplation.
Prowl looked at him and answered quietly. "The ability to fire a weapon under combat conditions has never traditionally been required of tacticians – for the same reason my weapons systems were not deemed necessary for that mission." He allowed a faint smile to touch the corner of his lip plates. "It is a skill that can be learned."
Trailbreaker flashed him a smile, though he was not as relaxed as the gesture should have indicated. "You think so?"
"If Bluestreak can learn, I am confident you can as well."
Trailbreaker chuckled uneasily at that, then grew serious, looking over Prowl's frame briefly. "Um… why… why weren't you given access to your weapons? I mean, you are a lieutenant commander."
Prowl glanced away, his doorwings flicking before he could stop them. "I appreciate that, Trailbreaker. But I am sure you know why."
Trailbreaker considered him for a moment longer and then looked away, nodding. "Yeah. I guess so."
They were silent for a moment then Trailbreaker leaned a little closer to Prowl. "You are really willing to help me learn to shoot better?"
Prowl cocked an optic ridge. "Of course. Assuming you are not averse to learning alongside a youngling."
Trailbreaker stared at him for a moment and then smiled. "If it helps me keep from being a burden in the field, I'll just be grateful to learn."
"Then I shall invite you to our next training session." Prowl dipped his helm.
Trailbreaker's smile widened in gratitude and then they fell silent again and went back to watching the steadily approaching medics.
It was only a handful of breems before Ratchet approached Prowl, First Aid right on his heels. Ratchet took one look at Prowl and then consulted a datapad. He frowned. "Most or your damage has been resolved, but you are still a mess."
Suddenly Ratchet leaned forward, his engine growling. "I also understand that one of my medics almost got taken out in Stanix."
Prowl blinked and Trailbreaker was surprised to see the Praxian's frame shift, armor clamping somewhat tighter to his frame. He spoke in a strained whisper. "Unfortunately, yes"
Ratchet's hand closed into a fist. "You know, that is one thing you might never be able to live down."
Prowl did not respond immediately, watching Ratchet warily. "I do not expect to." Then, even more quietly; "Nor do I believe that I should."
Chartreuse medic and tactician considered each other for another long moment then Ratchet released a vent of air. He was not truly mollified, Trailbreaker could tell, rather he was determined to focus on the problem at hand.
The CMO walked around Prowl to look at the control relay on his neck, then he tapped the covering. "Open up."
Prowl did not cringe, though he wanted to. "I cannot, Ratchet. I apologize. The mechanism for adjusting the armor is fused."
Ratchet ran a careful, detailed scan of the area and grunted. "Yes, I see. Well, we need to get in there to fix the collateral damage done to the relays. Then we'll have to replace the temp plating with real armor, but that will have to wait until we've had time to machine the pieces to match your frame. An orn or two at most. But the relays now."
"Understood." Prowl acknowledged.
Ratchet considered him for another astrosecond then looked up at First Aid. "This is damage we don't see a lot of…" He rattled off a list of tools which First Aid quickly dashed off to retrieve. Then the CMO became thoughtful, looking back at Prowl.
As if coming to a spontaneous decision, Ratchet looked past Prowl and called Patch over. As the green medic came to a stop next to Prowl's berth, Ratchet nodded to the tactician. "You didn't deal with the relays because you weren't sure how, correct?"
Patch shifted his weight uncomfortably, responding with a faint tremor in his voice as if he was not sure what Ratchet would do. "Yes, sir."
Ratchet's optics narrowed and he glanced at Prowl again. Then his gaze snapped back to the junior medic. "You and First Aid will work together to complete his repairs."
"I…" Patch stopped himself, clearly caught off guard. He glanced at Prowl and then nodded quickly. "Yes, sir."
First Aid chose that moment to return, the look of excited expectation on his faceplate catching Trailbreaker off guard. Knowing how most higher-ranking mechs felt about being the subject of a medic's 'learning opportunity', the brown tactician was surprised to see a look of tolerant amusement on Prowl's face plate as he watched the two junior medics listen with rapt attention as Ratchet explained what they were about to do.
The former Decepticon was seemingly oblivious to Trailbreaker and the handful of other mechs intrigued by the unexpected show presenting itself to them.
As one, all three medics turned to Prowl, who was the center of a rough triangle they formed around him. Trailbreaker had to give the Praxian credit; that formation would have intimidated most mechs, but Prowl seemed perfectly at ease. Well… almost.
Ratchet was gesturing to the damaged relay panel. "Now, the first step would be to paralyze his motor functions because fused relays hurt like the pit, but we can't access those controls because the armor casing is also fused. But, like Doorwings, this is not something you want to do without a patient immobilized or off-line because a twitch or jerk at the wrong time and you might blow the whole system."
Trailbreaker winced at that, amazed Prowl seemed nonplussed.
"So…" First Aid spoke into Ratchet's expectant silence. "We magnetize the berth." Ratchet nodded and the white and red medic looked at the tactician. "Or would you rather be off-line, Prowl?"
"Not necessary, First Aid." Obligingly, Prowl placed both hands on the berth, just as he had for Livewire in Stanix, and nodded to First Aid.
"Are restraints necessary?" Patch asked suddenly, looking at Ratchet.
Ratchet cocked an optic ridge. "That depends on your assessment of the patient. For most mechs I'd say the answer is yes. If you do not know your patient the answer is absolutely. This is your learning experience and you both know your patient. Use your judgment."
Patch and First Aid looked at each other briefly and then, as if coming to a simultaneous unspoken accord, they turned and began removing the fused armor covering without bothering to magnetize the berth. Trailbreaker watched in shock as Prowl just let them work.
As if sensing his scrutiny, Prowl glanced at Trailbreaker, his expression, much to the brown mech's surprise, was that of patient indulgence and acceptance even as he winced when the metal plate covering the relays was finally pried free. "Yes, Trailbreaker?"
Trailbreaker quickly averted his gaze. "Um… nothing."
Prowl glanced at the medics working on him, then sent a tight transmission to Trailbreaker. /What troubles you?/
Trailbreaker's gaze snapped back up to Prowl, then to the medics working on him as Ratchet leaned in and pointed to something only to correct Patch on his technique. He saw Prowl wince again, but the tactician never complained.
None of it made sense. Prowl was ranking enough – provisional or otherwise – not to have to let the less experienced medics work on him. Yet… To see Prowl submitting to such a thing was… disconcerting.
Blinking, Trailbreaker glanced around and saw that he was not the only one attracted by such a spectacle. He was too taken aback to figure out how to frame a reply to Prowl's question. Perhaps Prowl would be too distracted by what was being done to his frame to pursue the matter.
He should have known better, of course, if Prowl could continue to direct a complex military action while fighting for his own life… he would not be distracted by such a little thing as mere repair work. Still, Trailbreaker could hope.
/Something is on your processor, Trailbreaker./
Trailbreaker blinked again. It was a simple sentence, an observation really, but it was also close to an order to come clean. But it was not stated as such and so it left him with the option of not answering, though it was clear Prowl wished for him to reply.
The brown tactician looked up to see Prowl was regarding him blandly, even as he winced yet again as a fused segment of cabling and chard control interfaces were removed.
In that moment, seeing that, Trailbreaker recognized why he was so discomfited; it was guilt.
He cleared his vents. /If I'd known what I was doing, you wouldn't have to be going through this. I'm sorry./
It was Prowl's turn to blink. /You did the best you were able under the circumstances. Considering we are both alive, there is nothing to apologize for, Trailbreaker./
Trailbreaker could only stare. He knew his bumbling work of reconnecting Prowl's weapons were the direct cause for his current discomfort. By all rights the mech should at least be swearing or… something. The only other mech Trailbreaker had seen handle the discomfort of repair so calmly was the Prime.
It was an unlikely comparison to make, and it made Trailbreaker momentarily loose his place in the conversation.
Before he could regain his composure however, Ratchet spoke, frowning. "Some of these relays are completely fried, Prowl. These aren't standard parts. I'll have to machine them before they can be installed. You'll be without weapons until then."
Prowl snorted air softly through his vents, turning his gaze to the CMO. "I have been without weapons while on base since I was first brought here."
It was calmly delivered and likely an unintentional reminder of just what Prowl had been and apparently Trailbreaker was not the only one that reminder struck as… unnerving. The two junior medics working on the tactician paused, glancing at each other before resuming their work with more careful movements.
For some reason, that comment also drove home something else for Trailbreaker. He knew how much more secure he felt knowing he had access to his weapons, even if his ability to use them was woefully lacking. He remembered how belligerent he himself had been toward Prowl – how the Twins had conspired against Prowl – and he realized he had never once considered the possible ramifications if Prowl had thought to take revenge…
… Because subconsciously he had relied on the general assumption the mech had been disarmed and would otherwise be prohibited from truly hurting him.
That was what Prowl had been referring to when he had said that Trailbreaker knew why he had been denied access to his weapons: Just as it was a psychological comfort for mechs to have their weapons readily at their disposal, it was an equal comfort to know a mech as potentially dangerous as Prowl did not have such easy access to his weapons.
Trailbreaker could only imagine what it would feel like to be alone amongst a base full of hostile mechs without the subliminal level of security of having his weapons close at hand. Trailbreaker had no idea about the ethical coding that bound Prowl even tighter in that regard. If he had, he would have trembled at the implications.
Even so, it gave him a much greater appreciation of where Prowl had come from and a greater respect for Prowl as a mech.
All of this flashed through Trailbreaker's processor in a matter of astroseconds, even as Ratchet blinked, frowning anew.
"That's right, you have." Ratchet sounded slightly frustrated, though whether it was at the mere fact itself or at having forgotten such a fact, was unclear. Then he huffed a short gust of air through his vents. "Hmph. Right. Very well, that's it for now. I'll notify you when we have the parts manufactured."
"Of course. Thank you." Prowl murmured quietly.
Ratchet harrumphed again and looked at his two junior medics. "Alright, close him up and he's free to go."
Ratchet turned to Trailbreaker, who was still staring at Prowl as First Aid and Patch finished up.
The CMO considered his datapad again. "They did a good job fixing you up." Even so, he ran his own scan then nodded. "You are healing up nicely. You will still be on light duty for three more orns, but that is it."
Trailbreaker nodded, even as Patch stepped away from Prowl as First Aid finished sliding a temporary armor covering back in place.
Prowl's frame relaxed once that was done. He thanked the two junior medics for their work.
That was when Trailbreaker noticed something else; the ease with which the medics interacted with the former Decepticon. It was a level of almost warm familiarity that suggested they were used to working on Prowl and that he was used to – and welcoming of – having the two junior medics work on him.
Or perhaps it was more than that. He had never seen either junior medic work with such confidence on any mech, let alone a senior commander or former Decepticon. No, that was not entirely true. He had noticed a very recent uptick in both medics' confidence levels. Did Prowl have something to do with that? Trailbreaker did not know, but he would not have been surprised if he should someday learn the answer was yes.
However, when he saw Prowl put a comforting hand on Patch's arm – a contact the green medic responded favorably to – Trailbreaker realized their relationship was more than just that of medic and patient.
Then he saw Prowl approach Ratchet. The other tactician spoke quietly, but Trailbreaker was just able to hear what was said.
"I have a feeling opportunities for further training will become more difficult to come by now. I would like to have at least one more session tonight, if you are able."
Ratchet considered Prowl carefully, then he nodded. "We will be there."
Prowl held the CMO's gaze for a moment longer and then nodded.
Prowl then walked expectantly toward Trailbreaker as the brown tactician slid off the berth onto his own pedes. Even as he fell into step with the mech who had taken his job as the second in command of Iacon's tactical division, Trailbreaker could not help but wonder what they had been talking about.
… … …
Once all the injured mechs had been seen to and the fabrication of permanent replacement parts for the most seriously damaged had been initiated, Ratchet took a moment to gather his thoughts. Then, confident all was going as expected, Ratchet drew in a deep vent.
There was an issue he needed to address, and he was not looking forward to it.
A quick scan of the med bay showed where Livewire was; bent over one of the fabrication benches. With another sigh of air through his vents, Ratchet headed that direction.
When he neared, he saw that the femme was working on one of three armor plates that would be used to finalize the repair to Prowl's frame. The CMO blinked, startled that Livewire would choose to work on Prowl's armor replacement. Then he shook his helm; he still needed to speak to her.
"Livewire…" He said softly.
She looked up from her work and then straightened. "Yes, Ratchet?"
"Please come with me." So saying, Ratchet led her to his office.
Once the door was closed, he stepped away and then turned back to face her. Ratchet released a huff of air, and set himself. "You know I don't like doing this, but…"
Her optics flashed. "Prowl reported my unprofessional conduct."
"No. Not Prowl." Ratchet shook his helm. "Ironhide. But I want to hear what happened from you."
She blinked and the defiant flare of her armor relaxed as it clamped tighter to her frame. She looked down. "Whatever Ironhide said… he was probably right."
"He said you did repairs in a way that intentionally caused Prowl as much pain as possible." Ratchet murmured. "That you treated his doorwings in a rough enough manner that it would have been painful on regular armor platting, including sensor casings."
Her vents cycled. "That is true."
"He said you allowed your personal feelings over having been attacked in the field to supersede your ability to perform your function." Ratchet continued gravely.
"I did perform my function." Livewire lifted her chin. "Can you honestly say you have never repaired a mech in such a way it hurt as much as possible? The Twins…"
"Yes, the Twins." Ratchet interrupted. "And even Prowl when he was first brought to Iacon. I admit that." He cleared his vents.
Livewire snorted air through her vents and clenched her hands into fists. "I expected Prowl to complain."
Ratchet's engine revved in frustration. "Prowl did not complain. In fact, he said nothing at all about the matter and I doubt he ever will. At least not to me or anyone else."
The bronze-colored femme stepped back at his tone, looking away.
Seeing her reaction, Ratchet let a sigh gust through his vents, forcing his own frame to relax. "Look… I'm not going to reprimand you for your technique because I've been where you were; where fixing him was the last thing I wanted to do. I've also lost friends who were saving my aft because of his orders."
Her optics snapped back up, flashing. "Then why are we having this discussion?"
Ratchet was not phased by her temper, nor was he disappointed by it; it was part of what made her effective and was why she was able to function in the field despite how much it terrified her.
He leaned forward to emphasize his points. "I just wanted to make sure you knew that the injuries you helped repair were gained while he was physically defending himself and a wounded comrade while simultaneously directing the entire battle for Stanix. The injuries we had to complete today were caused by his own weapon control relay because it was jury rigged in the field because a medic-only block I installed prevented him from having access to his weapon when he needed it."
Livewire's optics widened. "Then why didn't they call a medic to unblock it when they came under fire?"
Ratchet's engine growled at her stubbornness. "Because they were pinned down by enemy fire and did not want to put one of us at risk. That was Prowl's decision."
Her optics widened even further. "I… I didn't know. He didn't tell me…"
"I know." Ratchet relaxed his posture fractionally. "And he never would. I know the frustration and the stress of being a target. I've been one longer than you have, even if you do have a double target on your helm as a femme."
Livewire stiffened at that and Ratchet hurried to continue. "Look… you know Prowl has been training us to defend ourselves. He's called us to have a lesson tonight. I want you to join us."
The femme recoiled physically at that. "He won't want to teach me. Not now at least. Not any more."
Ratchet's engine revved again, exasperated. "He will. He will welcome you just as freely as he does the rest of us."
"But…"
Ratchet snarled, getting fed up with the femme's attitude. "He was only half repaired in Stanix because they feared him, and that was after he saved their collective afts. You left him magnetized to a berth to punish him. You will, at the very least let him teach you how not to be a victim of his own past actions." He paused, regarding her. "That's an order."
Livewire recoiled, stiffening at his demeanor as much as at the order. Then she regained herself, ducking her helm submissively. "Yes, sir."
She turned and left and Ratchet saw she was trembling slightly.
Once Livewire was gone, Ratchet slumped. Belatedly, he realized he had presumed a great deal on Prowl's generosity. But… no. The Praxian had offered the self-defense lessons to all the medical staff. Ratchet knew Prowl's ethical programming would ensure he allowed Livewire to join them.
And the CMO was still irritated enough at having one of his medics get shot at again that he was just fine with surprising Prowl with the new addition. Not to mention the black and white mech's audacity of straining his processor like that – necessity not withstanding.
How was his command cortex supposed to heal when the mech kept pushing his systems like that?
No. He would not warn Prowl.
… … …
That night First Aid made his way to the training room with Patch and Jolt. It had been one pit of a day. After seeing to the repairs of the mechs returning from Stanix they had spent joors manufacturing parts. To top it all off Ratchet had been in fine form ever since he had learned Livewire had nearly been taken out. And Livewire had been… off as well.
Even though he had not been at Stanix himself, First Aid felt drained.
But he respected Prowl enough to report to the training room for a lesson if the tactician saw fit to have one. Besides, if he felt drained, First Aid could only imagine how Prowl must feel. That he would still have this lesson proclaimed how dedicated Prowl truly was to teaching them.
Patch was also looking a little worse for wear, but he was determinably keeping pace with the other two mechs with him. Jolt did not seem put out at all, but then he had not had to put up with Ratchet's moods like First Aid had.
Prowl greeted them when they entered the training room as warmly as he was usually apt. Bluestreak grinned widely up at his guardian and then left Prowl's side. He moved to stand before Patch.
The youngling drew himself up formally and addressed the green medic with enough seriousness it was almost amusing coming from one so young. When he spoke, it had the tenor and cadence of a well-rehearsed monologue. "Thank you Patch, for taking such good care of my guardian when he was injured. I'm really grateful. And I'm glad you were there to help him."
Patch was clearly taken aback and glanced at Prowl. But the black and white mech was impassive – though there might have been a faint gleam in his optics.
"Um…" Patch looked back at Bluestreak. "I was glad to be able to do it."
Bluestreak smiled again and his frame lost the rehearsed stance of seriousness. When he next spoke he was rambling again. "I was so worried when I saw all the temp-plating, but he said you did a good job and I know that he will have normal plating put on soon and that's good. So I just wanted to say thank you because there was once a time – I remember – when no one wanted to repair him because everyone was afraid of him. But it hurt me and scared me whenever he gets hurt because I already lost my creators and he's such a good guardian that I…"
"Bluestreak." Prowl gently cut him off.
Bluestreak put a hand over his mouth. "Oh! Right. Sorry. Thank you, Patch."
Bluestreak was about to scamper back to Prowl when the door opened and Ratchet walked in… followed by an obviously nervous Livewire. First Aid blinked at the femme and nearly missed how Bluestreak cocked his helm as he studied her. Then the youngling glanced at Prowl as if for confirmation.
First Aid saw what looked like brief surprise flash across the tactician's face before the other mech regained control. Then the medic saw the nod Prowl gave the youngling.
Ratchet and Livewire paused just in front of the mat as Bluestreak approached. The youngling was the center of attention and he suddenly became shy. "Uh… Livewire?"
Livewire, interestingly enough, seemed just as unsure as Bluestreak. "Yes?"
"Um…" Bluestreak's fingers intertwined as he looked up at her. Then he took in a vent of air and started talking. "Well… Prowl said you were one of the medics who helped take care of him in Sti… uh… in Stanix. And that you did a good job, even though you were mad at him. I don't know why you were mad at him, but I suspect it's because he used to be a Decepticon. Anyway, I just wanted to thank you for taking good care of my guardian."
Livewire was staring, as was Patch. "Um… I… I…" Then the femme looked down miserably and finished quietly. "That is very kind of you Bluestreak."
Prowl had approached them with near silent pede-falls and put a hand on Bluestreak's back to forestall the question that had grown in the youngling's expression at Livewire's answer and demeanor.
"Livewire…" The femme flinched when Prowl spoke, even though his words were gentle.
Bluestreak frowned at her reaction even though Prowl lifted his hand toward her in a placating manner. "Peace. Welcome."
"She's afraid of you." Bluestreak blurted.
"Apparently so." Prowl answered, looking down at him. "Bluestreak."
It was a gentle command, which Bluestreak obviously understood. He obligingly moved off the mat to make room for the adults even as he let out a gust of air through his vents. "I wish no one would be scared of you. I know why they are, but I still wish they wouldn't be. It makes me sad."
Prowl watched Bluestreak move toward his preferred corner and take a seat. First Aid nearly fell over to see a tiny smile tipping the corner of the stoic mech's lip plate. Then Prowl looked back at Livewire.
"Welcome, please join us." Prowl beckoned the CMO and the femme onto the mat. "Once I get the others started with initial exercises, I will help you begin getting up to speed, Livewire."
Livewire, openly surprised at such an open welcome, nodded mutely.
Prowl had the mechs start Form One, with instructions to repeat it five times, before he turned to Livewire. She trembled when he was focused on her.
Prowl frowned at her reaction. He spoke softly, not wanting to terrify her further. "What do you fear, Livewire?"
Livewire's frame heated at being so easily read. "I… You… I mean…" then she gave herself a shake and faced him squarely, though her frame trembled perceptively. "Because you have no reason to be kind to me. Not after… not after Stanix."
Prowl surprised her by huffing a tiny chuckle that was more like a stuttering release of air through his vents. "On the contrary. Aggressive technique aside, you helped repair me when you had no desire to." He dipped his helm appreciatively, "I am grateful."
She stared up at him, obviously not prepared for such a statement and clearly at a loss as to how she should respond.
The tactician released a sigh of air. "Please relax. I will not harm you and your anxiety level is not conducive to learning."
Her armor flared. "I can't just calm down on command!"
Prowl's doorwings flinched at her heated retort and he made another placating gesture. He considered his options and then turned, giving her space, to watch the four medics now going through the Form with well practiced synchronization.
They had learned the movements exceptionally fast, even if it was only Form One. Prowl suspected it had to do with their intimate knowledge of Cybertronian anatomy as well as the absolute control over their own frame that their function required. Primarily, however, he believed the speed with which they learned was attributable to the programmed ability to learn details quickly – theoretical and physical –that all successful medics had.
He enjoyed watching them, recognizing the accomplishment it was for each mech on the mat.
Out of the corner of his optic, he saw Livewire take the opportunity of having his attention diverted to watch her fellow medics as well. He saw the gleam of curiosity slowly grow in her optics.
Seizing the opening, Prowl spoke softly so as not to startle her. "They are performing a Form. There are thirty-eight Primary Forms in Circuit Su. Thirty-six in Diffusion. They serve to help teach the frame the moves necessary for fighting."
"It looks like a dance." Livewire breathed the words.
"In many ways." Prowl acknowledged, still not looking at her directly. "The difference is in the processor; knowing how the moves are used. Without combat protocols, the similarity with dancing is what will allow you to learn the movements while the discipline of doing the Forms – as well as other exercises – allows one's processor to adapt and integrate them. Once the moves are learned, as you see with them, it is time to learn to use those moves."
She did not answer, but a glance at her showed that Livewire's optics were alight with desire and curiosity just as much as they were still unsure. "Would you like to try?"
She looked at him then, lingering tension warring with determination. Eventually she nodded.
Prowl demonstrated the first stance and beckoned her to do the same. She did so, mimicking him as best she was able. Unfortunately, her slimmer build made adjustments necessary.
When Prowl turned to correct her position however, she recoiled physically, optics widening in terror.
Prowl instantly opened his palms non-threateningly. "My apologies. I will not harm you." He paused, reading her posture and the light swirling in her optics. "Nor will I touch you without your consent."
Livewire studied him for a moment and then cautiously resumed her stance. True to his word, Prowl indicated her left elbow but did not touch her; his fingers staying at least a hand's breadth away from her armor. "Keep your arms tucked close to your body in this stance to help protect your sides."
Livewire made the adjustment and Prowl indicated her pedes. "Broaden your base and let your weight sink into your pedes. This stabilizes your balance."
At her confused and borderline rebellious look, Prowl released a gust of air. "May I demonstrate?"
Cautiously she nodded and Prowl reached forward, slowly and non-threateningly, to gently nudge her shoulder. She swayed, having to throw her arms out to catch her balance.
"Now, broaden your stance and sink your weight down." She eyed him but did as he instructed.
This time, when Prowl nudged her she did not waver.
An incredulous smile tipped her lip plates as she glanced up at Prowl. Prowl returned her smile with a tiny, encouraging nod, his own optics remained watchful. Then he showed her the second stance and then explained the transition between them, demonstrating the movement.
She copied the action as best she could and Prowl corrected what he had to correct and then proceeded to the first strike. They continued like that, Prowl directing Livewire to practice the series she had learned several times before adding the next move or stance.
When Livewire successfully completed the entire first series of moves in the Form, she jumped when applause suddenly rang in her audios. She looked around at the other medics, who had apparently completed their warm-up exercises and had gathered to watch, and were now providing the accolades. Prowl made a mental note to work on her situational awareness once she trusted him enough to make that possible.
Her frame heated with embarrassment and Prowl turned to the mechs, realizing Livewire needed a moment to settle herself.
First, Prowl showed them the next set of choreographed fight sequences designed to teach their frames how to use the moves they had learned. Then he went from mech to mech, demonstrating the sequence individually. Then, satisfied that they understood the exercise, he paired them up and had them run through all the sequences they had learned to date.
Standing next to Livewire again, though still not looking at her directly, Prowl continued to watch the other medics. She watched with obvious intrigue, so Prowl provided a quiet commentary as to what they were doing and why.
"When… when will I…"
"Not until you are ready, Livewire." Prowl assured her, hearing the tremor in her voice. "You have several more movements to learn before your first attempt in any case."
"They are so far ahead of me." She said sadly.
"They have been practicing longer." Prowl corrected. "With dedicated practice and a willingness to let me teach you, you have the ability to be at their level with relative quickness."
She eyed him speculatively, but said nothing. Prowl looked down at her. "You still do not trust me."
She turned toward him. "I see what they are doing. It would be so easy for me to get hurt… and for it to appear to be an accident…"
Prowl did not turn toward her, keeping his frame angled toward the other medics, though he let his EM field flare briefly against her own in a reassuring manner. "They have been training with me for several quartex now and none have had suspicious injuries. Why do you think you would be any different?"
Air snorted through her vents dismissively. "I doubt any of them gave you cause to want to hurt them."
"No more than you have." Prowl turned toward her then, a faint smirk touching his lip plates before it was gone. "You are not the first Autobot medic to use the opportunity of needed repair work to give me a piece of your processor. Nor do I believe you will be the last."
She just stared at him, lower mandible hanging slightly open. Prowl quirked an optic ridge. "Do not think it has not crossed my processor that what I teach you here might one orn be revisited upon me."
"Then why teach us?" She demanded, hands going to her hip joints.
"Because having as many medics as possible who can defend themselves is more important than whether or not one of you decides to take your frustration out on me during any repairs or maintenance I might need." His voice softened. "I would not have another Cybertronian suffer for my actions as a Decepticon, not if there is something I can do to prevent it."
"This won't stop them from coming after us." She spit back, though there was less bite in her tone than there had been just moments before.
"No." He agreed softly. "But it can keep them from succeeding."
She opened her mouth to reply, but First Aid called out with a question. "Prowl…?"
With an apologetic glance at Livewire, Prowl approached the white and red medic. "Yes, First Aid?"
First Aid looked down, as if unsure of what he was about to ask, or if he should ask it at all. "Don't take this wrong, but… We've been studying this for a while now, and… I mean… will it really help us, like for real?"
Prowl considered the question, aware that the other medics had stopped practicing to wait for his answer. He nodded, pitching his voice to be heard by all of them. "What you are learning now is helping your processor and spark adapt to activities contrary to your core programming as medics. Ultimately, the goal is to get you to where you can safely use ranged weapons, hand held or modified, simply because you are right; in a firefight hand to hand combat skills are not usually the best line of defense."
Ratchet growled. "You had better not be wasting our time."
Prowl looked at First Aid. "Do you believe this has been a waste of time?"
"I… I don't know." The medic looked down. "I mean, I don't feel any different."
Prowl quickly considered his options. Aware that the medics' continuing cooperation was now on the line, he took a calculated risk.
Without warning, he threw a punch at First Aid's helm. He did so in such a manner and at a speed that he knew First Aid should be able to deflect the blow.
And the young medic did exactly that. Reacting on instinct, he avoided the strike and then redirected Prowl's momentum, using his greater mass to throw Prowl to the ground. Prowl allowed himself to be pinned to the mat as First Aid's saw whirred to life at the Praxian's neck before the medic even realized what he had done.
Prowl lay still, having made his point. Yes, he could have counteracted First Aid's move, but that was not what he was trying to illustrate. From the way First Aid's optics widened – from the stunned silence in the training hall – the point had not been missed by any of the medics.
First Aid was still in a minor shock at himself. Then he looked down at the razor sharp blade that was still spinning only a micron from the main energon line in Prowl's neck.
The medic backed off, quickly powering off his saw and transforming it back into a hand. "Oh, Primus! Prowl! Are… are you all right? Your doorwings! I'm so sorry…"
Allowing a tiny smile to play over his lip plates for First Aid's benefit, Prowl spoke calmly. "There is nothing to apologize for, First Aid. You reacted precisely as you should have."
First Aid's optics were still wide as he stared at the hand that had transformed into a saw. His mouth moved, but no sound came out.
"Do you still doubt yourself?" Prowl asked softly.
First Aid looked up at him, his optics awash with a mix of excitement, shock, hope and a touch of horror at having been able to do something so completely contrary to his core programming and yet not experience any debilitating conflicts for doing so.
Prowl glanced at the other medics to see that they were staring slack-jawed at First Aid.
Livewire was the first to tear her gaze away from her coworker to look appraisingly at Prowl. "I see what you mean."
Prowl gave her a somewhat amused look, then swept it around to all of them. "That is why you train. There are other tools besides saws at your disposal that can be used as weapons if needed. Laser scalpels, electric flux modulators, even magnetic field generators.
"But… I don't want to kill anyone…" First Aid's engine whined as he turned his gaze to Prowl.
"And you did not just then, though you easily could have." Prowl allowed himself to smile faintly in reassurance. "You stopped because you knew I was no longer a threat and your core programming kept you from violating such a fundamental tenant of your coding. In time you will also learn to control such instinctual reactions so you can choose not to act on them if you wish. What I am teaching you does not make you ignore your core coding, only to expand what it allows you to do under the correct circumstances."
A thoughtful silence descended on the training room.
Then another voice broke it. "Um… did I just miss something?"
The five medics spun toward the door of the training room, only to see Trailbreaker standing uneasily in the entry.
The brown tactician looked around warily. "It wasn't my fault… was it?"
The innocent question was enough to break the tension and the medics began to relax. Seeing that, Trailbreaker smiled and walked in. He took a glance around and then shot Prowl a look. "You put yourself in a confined space with five medics, Prowl? You have some chrome bearings or… you are insane."
Five engines revved at the almost blithe statement as said medics glared at Trailbreaker.
Prowl cocked an optic ridge. "You may wish to moderate such sentiments, Trailbreaker. What you 'missed' was First Aid nearly decapitating me."
Trailbreaker's optics bulged as he looked hastily at First Aid, then at the other medics. They gave him silent nods of confirmation, though First Aid was still trembling faintly.
"Wha… whoa, Really? How? I mean… isn't that impossible?"
Prowl smirked. "That is why they are here; to learn to defend themselves."
Trailbreaker blinked three times in rapid succession. "Oh." Then he looked at Prowl. "You're teaching them?"
Prowl nodded and Trailbreaker suddenly smiled. "I'm glad. It's about time."
The bristling medics relaxed even further and Ratchet turned to Prowl. "May I assume we are to train every night that we are able?"
Prowl nodded. "If that is what you wish."
Ratchet nodded, then he looked at Livewire. "Will you be joining us again?"
Livewire did not answer immediately, she strode closer to Prowl, peering up at him intently she gestured to First Aid. "You'd teach me how to do that…?"
Prowl looked at her. "It is a commitment on your part as well, Livewire. But if you are willing to learn, I will teach you what I am able."
He saw determination stiffen her struts. "Then I will be back next orn as well."
Ratchet left then, the others filing out soon afterward. First Aid, however, hung back. He looked nervously at Prowl, then leaned in to examine where his blade had nearly sliced his energon line. "Are you sure you aren't hurt? How are your doorwings?"
"I am un-harmed, First Aid." Prowl reassured. "Though I do appreciate your concern."
"I am so sorry, I'll try not to do that again…" First Aid mumbled, looking at his hand again as if it had betrayed him.
"Of course you will." Prowl touched his shoulder briefly to regain his attention. "I can guarantee this will not be the last time. Nor will you be the only one. It is part of the training process."
First Aid blinked but then gave a shy nod and followed the others out.
Once they were gone, Trailbreaker looked at Prowl, his armor tightening apologetically. "I did not mean to interrupt."
Prowl shook his helm. "Do not fret, this is the joor you and I arranged to meet." He looked over his shoulder to the youngling who had jumped to his pedes in fright when First Aid had thrown him to the ground. "Bluestreak."
Bluestreak bounded forward to take the hand Prowl held toward him.
"Trailbreaker, this is Bluestreak. Bluestreak, this is Trailbreaker." Prowl made the introductions.
Bluestreak blinked up at Trailbreaker then stepped away from his guardian, dropping the older Praxian's hand to lift his own toward Trailbreaker.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Trailbreaker." Bluestreak said formally.
As if caught off guard, Trailbreaker returned the greeting. "Likewise, Bluestreak."
Then Bluestreak dropped his hand and grinned up at the brown tactician. "Prowl mentioned you were going to join us. He is teaching me to shoot as well. It is a lot of fun, especially when you hit the targets. I'm getting better now."
"That's… good." Trailbreaker looked between youngling and his commanding officer.
"You're a tactician aren't you?" Bluestreak asked suddenly, as Prowl left them to adjust the training room's programming.
"Uh… yes." Trailbreaker answered as the Praxian training hall disappeared, the image pixelating and then blanching into a featureless whitewash.
The image was reforming around them as a standard shooting range even as Bluestreak let out a gust of air through his vents in a sigh that was too big for his tiny frame. "I'm so glad that Prowl is being trusted enough that he is being allowed to do his function again. I know why no one trusted him at first, but he's really nice and really good at what he does and I think it's a good thing that he's being allowed to do his function. It was so scary when he would be sent out on missions and I knew that the mechs he was going with didn't like him and he kept getting hurt and…" air hiccuped through the youngling's vents and he stopped. Then he grinned up at Trailbreaker. "I'm just glad mechs like him now."
Trailbreaker stared. Then nodded slowly, forcing a tiny smile onto his face. "I… I wouldn't be here if I didn't trust him."
Prowl had closed the distance between them and, though he had overheard the entire conversation he gave no indication of it. "Bluestreak, go get your weapon."
"Oh, right!" Bluestreak scampered away.
Both adults watched the youngling for a moment then Prowl looked at Trailbreaker, his optics warmer than the brown tactician had ever seen before. "Thank you."
Trailbreaker smiled.
… … …
The next orn Prowl stood behind Smokescreen as the rest of the senior command staff took their places. Once the last department leader, who happened to be Ratchet, had entered Optimus called the meeting to order. Then he handed it to Smokescreen to deliver the briefing.
Smokescreen glanced at Prowl and then started his explanation of what had happened in Stanix. Prowl jumped in when needed, expanding on particular details without having to even break Smokescreen's rhythm. They worked together with such a fluid give and take that it was quite obvious – more so than any of the commanders had ever noticed before –they had a long familiarity with each other. Also clearly evident was the fundamental respect they held for the other.
When it was over, they fell silent. It was a long moment before any one else spoke.
In the end it was Ratchet who broke the silence, speaking the obvious, "So… now it isn't just medics who are intentional targets, but tacticians too."
Smokescreen blinked and then glanced at Prowl. The older tactician knew Smokescreen was going to let him answer, as Ratchet was looking at him.
Prowl hesitated, his processors suddenly conjuring images of a similar briefing that could very well have taken place after the first battle where he had ordered Autobot medics to be targeted.
After clearing his vents softly, Prowl spoke into the uncomfortable silence. "So it appears."
Air Raid sneered, "Finally getting your own coolant spit back at you?"
The tension in the briefing room spiked and the sound of several unhappy revs and growling engines filled the air. But mechs were looking at Air Raid as they did so rather than Prowl.
Prowl merely cocked his helm to the side, looking at the quarrelsome aerialbot. "I had not considered it in that light before, but in many ways; yes."
Optimus Prime spoke before Air Raid could recover his momentary shock at Prowl's humble answer. "And your first recommendation is for all field tacticians to wear spark dampeners?"
Elita One frowned. "Isn't that dangerous? Rescuers won't be able to find you either."
Smokescreen answered with a sharp nod. "That is a real risk. Thankfully, we anticipate that will only be a temporary situation. One needed to give us time to sharpen tactical field personal's fighting skills."
Prowl continued the statement in the same manner the two had run the entire briefing. "Eventually we anticipate that tactical staff with have to be integrated into a fighting unit, preferably one that is off the front lines."
"But where they can be adequately protected." Smokescreen finished. "Just like the medics."
Ultra Magnus, who had remained silent until that point, spoke up, looking hard at Prowl. "You can successfully lead an offensive action while fighting in that battle yourself?"
Smokescreen spoke before Prowl could, his armor flaring in offense. "We did in Stanix."
Prowl looked at his apprentice and then addressed Ultra Magnus, though without the same defensiveness Smokescreen had displayed. "Though not with 100 percent efficiency. That is not yet something that we have found a way to overcome. However, it should still be sufficient to provide significant advantage."
"You ask us to put a lot of trust in a 'should.'" Ultra Magnus huffed air through his vents.
Smokescreen's engine revved and he leaned forward. "A 'should' from Prowl has more solid calculations backing it up than a guarantee from most mechs. Commander."
Ultra Magnus' engine growled in response, but Optimus spoke before he could. "Of that I have no doubt. However, if I understand this correctly, like the medics; you will still need protection. Have you determined the best way to accomplish that?"
Prowl and Smokescreen looked at each other again.
Smokescreen answered. "We think so, though it will probably take a few field tests to iron the details out."
"I just hope we don't loose any of ya in the process." Jazz muttered.
I have to admit; this chapter just doesn't feel… like everything I wanted it to be. *Sigh* On the other hand, it was a nice, fluffy type chapter. Sort of. Close enough.
Anyway… as I was sweetly reminded, this fic just turned a year old! I think I'm going to do something in honor of that auspicious occasion. Unfortunately, it will be a little belated...
Once more, you guys are awesome and I want to thank all of your for your continuing support. Be thinking of what you want to see in a side-story, just in case you are the 1000th review! (I will have more guidelines for that in the AN for the next chapter.)
