See? I told you I wouldn't make you wait too long. :)

Warning: Some difficult moments (as if that is a surprise).


Ultra Magnus was sorting through various reports in the central control center, most of which were boring, logistical issues. He seemed plagued with the things. Inventory reports. Complaints about petty mischief. Logs from various scouts and so on. It was a never-ending train of minutia and, while he had a processor for it and was able to manage it well, it was not exactly exciting. And it always seemed to take up a disproportionately large amount of time.

With a sigh of air through his vents, the large, light blue mech signed a recent manifest on a delivery from the collection of Autobot mines in the borderlands between Stanix and Tyger Pax. He filed the report and was about to move on to the next when Blaster called his designation.

"Ultra Magnus! Commander!" The communications mech's optics were wide.

Ultra Magnus' helm snapped up. "Yes, Blaster?"

The brown and white mech pointed to his screen. "Another urgent communiqué from Simfur, sir."

"Let me see." Ultra Magnus pushed himself to his pedes and walked over to a privacy terminal as Blaster forwarded the message to him. He watched it without comment, aware that the optics of every mech in the command center were watching him. He knew that they would take his reaction as their cue as to how to respond.

He had to maintain a calm demeanor, no matter that the message filled him with increasing dread. This was the third such message from Simfur within the past quartex and a half, the first one since the delegation from the temple had traveled to Iacon only a handful of orns ago.

His only outward reaction to the message was a softly muttered, "Slag."

There was nothing they could do at this moment, but the Prime needed to be made aware of what was happening.

Ultra Magnus saved the message and stepped away from the terminal. He nodded to Blaster. "Thank you Blaster. Keep monitoring. Notify me immediately if there is anything else."

"Yes sir." Blaster's armor relaxed seeing that Ultra Magnus was not overly worried.

The Second in Command gave him a small smile and then headed to the Prime's office. A message like this should not be delivered via comm.. To his great surprise, however, Optimus was not in his office. Engine revving softly, he signaled his leader.

There was no answer, not even a location ping.

With a frown, Ultra Magnus considered his options. Elita One was not on the base at the moment and would not be any help in locating her sparkmate.

With another rev of his engine, Ultra Magnus pinged Ironhide. /Ironhide, do you know where the Prime is?/

Ironhide's reply carried evidence of non-concern. /Probably in one of the training rooms. He was scheduled to meet Prowl there at about this time./

/Thank you./ Ultra Magnus cut the connection, suddenly uncomfortable and troubled.

Immediately he headed to the training rooms, but there was no Prime to be found. Uncomfortable feeling morphing quickly into concern and worry, Ultra Magnus walked to a couple of mechs and asked if they had seen either the Prime or Prowl.

A bright orange one nodded. "Yeah. Prowl was here about two joors ago. But he left in a huff and told everyone not to follow him."

"Yeah. He probably wanted privacy." The first mech's nearest companion, a deep green femme explained somewhat sheepishly. "A lot of us had been gawking… a lot."

Concern turning almost frantic, Ultra Magnus thanked them with outward calm as he turned away, pinging Optimus again, this time on an urgent frequency.

Again, no answer.

The Commander had witnessed the increasing stress and tension in the Praxian and now, with his Prime potentially in the undeniably deadly mech's presence – location unknown – and not responding to hails?

Not good.

He had to find them, but how?

Then Ultra Magnus remembered; Prowl was still on probation, that meant he probably still had a tracking device on his frame. Not daring to wait any longer, Ultra Magnus activated the signal on the tracking device, which he, as Second in Command, had access to.

Instantly, a beacon appeared on his HUD.

The signal was deep underground, many levels below even the detention level. What the pit would any mech be doing down there? The possibility that the former Decepticon was in such a remote location in a potentially violent frame of mind and alone with the Prime spurred Ultra Magnus into action.

Making use of the long strides his large frame afforded him, Ultra Magnus was at the lifts in a matter of seconds. A command override had the one he stepped into dropping like lead an instant later.

When the lift finally deposited Ultra Magnus in a notably ancient area of the base complex, built to proportions that made even him feel small, Ultra Magnus felt dread lock around his spark.

Without taking time to admire the architecture, Ultra Magnus hurried forward, following the signal from the tracking device.

The doors to what was perhaps the largest training arena Ultra Mangus had ever seen, slid open upon his approach and revealed the unmistakable thunder of metal striking metal. It did not sound like a typical, friendly sparring match

He hurried forward, almost running, rounding a protruding metal formation to see a swirling mass of red, blue, white and black as Prowl and the prime fought with such ferocity it made his sparkpulse stutter. And Optimus was losing. In fact, they pounded against each other with such aggression that Ultra Magnus was sure the Prime only had moments left.

Ultra Magnus did not hesitate to further consider his actions, the ground trembling from the power of the two combatants as he hurried forward. He hoped he could reach the fray before it was too late. He knew he did not stand a chance against Prowl, but he had to do something; the Prime's life was more important than his own.

Ultra Magnus got there just as the swirling mass of metal stopped, with Prowl on top, poised to end Optimus' life by ripping out a major energon feed to his processor and spark.

Knowing Praxian weaknesses as he did, Ultra Magnus acted in a way he knew was guaranteed to get the belligerent mech off of his leader: he grabbed the leading edge of smaller mech's doorwing and crushed his fist around the sensitive structure, physically pulling the black and white tactician away.

The Prime's urgent cry of "No!" was the only warning Ultra Magnus had before – somehow – Prowl twisted in his grip.

The motion further dislocated the doorwing, But Ultra Magnus barely registered that before an energon dagger was slashing a long gash in the armor gauntlet covering his forearm.

Surprise at the injury cycled rapidly into righteous outrage.

Ultra Magnus had known Prowl was dangerous and not to be trusted. Peripherally his sensors told him the Prime was regaining his pedes, but Primus knew how much damage had been done. He could not spare the focus to check at that moment.

For the sake of his Prime, and to neutralize the immediate threat, snarling Ultra Magnus retaliated.

… … …

Prowl realized too late just who had assaulted him and, a nanosecond later, the most likely reason why. The upgraded sensors on his doorwings and lightning quick processors allowed him to take in and analyze every single detail in less than an astrosecond:

The burning pain from crushed metal and dislocated doorwing.

The energon dripping from the deep laceration in Ultra Magnus' forearm.

The shock that was turning into fury as the larger mech registered the damage.

The realization that he had not only struck at, but caused significant damage to a superior officer; the Second in Command of the Autobots.

His ethical programming condemned him for that action so strongly it almost drove him to his knees, even as he saw Ultra Magnus telegraph his retaliatory strike as if in slow motion. In a half astrosecond that stretched into an eon, Prowl's processor was relentlessly spitting at him every regulation he had just violated and what that could mean.

He saw the outrage burn in the larger mech's optics, heard the angry snarl from the Commander's engine and knew what was coming. He knew resistance or evasion would only make it worse, so Prowl did nothing to avoid the much larger mech's strike.

The first blow, hit him solidly on the lower chassis and he stumbled back. But Ultra Magnus closed the distance to strike again. This time undamaged fist smashed into already damaged plating with enough force that Prowl was lifted off the ground. He flew through the air for what seemed like joors though could only have been a handful of astroseconds, only to land with a magnificent splash in the shallows of the mercury lake.

Slowly pushing himself to his hands and knees in the shimmering liquid metal, Prowl looked up to see Ultra Magnus vaulting the metal outcropping he had just sailed over.

Shakily, the tactician stood, ignoring the new damage to his right knee as quicksilver droplets cascading down his frame in a thousand tiny rivulets.

Fury still burned in the light cerulean optics of the Second in Command as he bore down on him again.

Prowl resisted the urge to step back, knowing he was boxed in by the body of liquid behind him, disciplinary regulations and his own ethical programing. He drew in a vent of air and braced himself…

"Ultra Magnus, stop!"

The large mech stopped moving obediently, looking over at the Prime who had transformed and was speeding around the same metal outcropping.

Optimus transformed again, standing at the edge of the artificial lake, between his enraged Second in Command and Prowl.

"You shouldn't have your back to that… traitor!" Ultra Magnus growled, glaring at Prowl though appearing genuinely concerned about the Prime's safety.

Prowl gave a tiny wince at the accusation.

… … …

Ultra Magnus watched with horror as Optimus presented his back to Prowl; the mech who had almost just killed him.

"You shouldn't have your back to that… traitor!" Ultra Magnus snarled at the mech in question, wordlessly warning him not to move against the Prime if he valued his life.

Stubbornly, the Prime did not budge. "You should not have struck him."

Ultra Magnus stiffened at the rebuke. "He is guilty of striking a superior officer."

"We were sparring, Ultra Magnus." Optimus shook his helm. "There is a difference."

Ultra Magnus' engine growled again. "I wasn't sparring." He held up his own arm to display the wound Prowl had given him.

Indeed, so much for respecting those in authority. Ultra Magnus snorted air through his vents, though he continued to glare past Optimus at the former Decepticon. Perhaps Ratchet did not know this mech half as well as the thought he did. But then, what else should he expect from a Decepticon?

But Optimus, ever thoughtful mech that he was, looked at the wound in question and stiffened visibly.

Prowl stepped forward, clearly in pain from the metal plating along his side that was now crushed inward and his dislocated doorwing. He put a hand on Optimus' arm, an action that made Ultra Magnus step closer; bristling defensively.

"The Commander is right, Prime." The tactician spoke softly, through gritted denta.

Optimus looked down at him. "Prowl, I can…"

"No, you cannot, sir." Prowl shook his helm, glancing at Ultra Magnus and the large mech was surprised to see a wisp of fear. "Not unless the Commander defers judgment to you. Not even you are above the law, Prime. " The Praxian's gaze dropped. "General Disciplinary Protocol 206.37.9 subsection three as well as two other relevant regulations are explicit. Ultra Magnus has a right to punish such an assault as he wishes."

Ultra Magnus blinked, looking at the Praxian suspiciously. What game was he playing?

The Prime turned to look more fully at Prowl and the tactician looked up to meet his optics boldly, a fact that only irked Ultra Magnus further.

Optimus did not move for a long astrosecond, considering the situation. Then, with obvious reluctance, the Prime nodded and stepped aside. Ultra Magnus thought he saw pain in the Prime's optics, but it was hidden, shuttered away under his unflappable calm. Yet he did not leave, stating clearly by action that while he could not stop the proceedings, he would stand as witness.

Ultra Magnus focused again on Prowl, wondering how the Decepticon had managed to ensnare the Prime so completely. It made his engine rev again.

Prowl was regarding him warily as the two mechs faced each other. Ultra Magnus had the uncanny sense that the tactician was able to read him just as clearly as the Prime could at times. It made him feel vulnerable and that only made angrier.

When Prowl stepped toward him, Ultra Magnus tensed, shifting defensively. He could not trust a mech like Prowl, who had already attacked him.

When Prowl was completely free of the shimmering mercury however, he stopped. Ultra Magnus watched as, with deliberate movements that were slow enough he could follow them, the sheaths that housed the daggers that had sliced his arm extended. The sheaths moved just far enough out to rotate so that they were pointed toward Prowl's elbow and would pierce his own arm if the daggers were deployed. Then the armor parted on both of the tactician's forearms and the sheaths retracted into his arms.

Prowl had just effectively disarmed himself, Ultra Magnus realized. There was no way Prowl could try to draw those weapons now without telegraphing his intent.

Once that was done, Prowl cautiously walked – or rather limped – toward Ultra Magnus again, hands held out, palms toward the much larger mech. Very cognizant of the apparent beating Prowl had been able to give the Prime – whom Ultra Magnus knew was a better hand-to-hand fighter than he – Ultra Magnus again reacted on instinct for self preservation. His arm transformed into a blaster, which he had leveled even as the transformation completed.

Prowl halted immediately, watching Ultra Magnus carefully and the Second in Command was struck with the realization that Prowl was waiting for him to act. The mech's on words, spoken to the Prime, came back to him. 'Ultra Magnus has the right to punish such an assault as he wishes.'

Ultra Magnus' engine revved as the pressure sensors in his arm protested the injury Prowl had delivered. His pride protested being taken by surprise as he had been.

Prowl heard the sound and his doorwings tucked submissively. Or rather one doorwing tucked, the dislocated one only jerked, sparking painfully with the aborted movement. Ultra Magnus heard the sound of grinding gears and saw the Praxian grimace at the added discomfort.

As much as he did not want to, Ultra Magnus had to admit the injury he had delivered to the Praxian was more severed than his own. And, if Prowl and the Prime had truly been sparring – and the Prime had never truly been in danger – that injury had been undeserved.

Was it possible the former Decepticon had only acted out of instinct and self-preservation?

The tactician was still watching him closely with piercing optics. And then, of all things, Prowl slowly lowered himself to his knees. The blaster Ultra Magnus had aimed at the mech's lower chassis was now pointed at his helm.

I know what I did can forfeit my life. Prowl's actions spoke as clearly as anything he could have said out loud. I know you can legally kill me if you want to and I accept that; I will not resist.

Ultra Magnus was forcibly reminded of the extreme demonstrations of respect that Prowl had consistently offered ever since he had called the mech down for being disrespectful in that briefing. He understood; Prowl kneeling before him was just such a display.

"He has a deeply ingrained and profound respect for authority and for those in authority." Ratchet had told him.

At his prolonged silence, Prowl lowered his gaze contritely, speaking softly. "Commander, I have acted in a manner that places my fate in your hands. I should not have attacked you, regardless of the provocation. You are my commanding officer and such behavior is unconscionable."

Ultra Magnus' vents stalled at those words and the manner of their delivery. It was a formal surrender and it gave new meaning to Prowl's earlier actions in disarming his bladed weapons. It signaled that he took the whole situation very seriously indeed.

Then another revelation hit Ultra Magnus like a physical blow: Prowl had access to his bladed weapons.

Former Decepticons were not generally trusted with their weapons while on base until the end of their probationary period of one vorn. Did Prowl have access to his ranged weapons as well?

Suddenly Ultra Magnus found he was struggling not to let his armor tremble at the conflicts between his immediate suspicions of the former Deceptcion and the compelling evidence that Prowl was actually not the villain Ultra Magnus assumed he was. Along side that conflict was a compulsion to confirm his growing suspicions and a growing pang from his ethical programming.

Unable to force words through his vocalizer, Ultra Magnus reached forward to check the control systems on Prowl's weapons. Tension raced through the smaller mech as Ultra Magnus' fingers touched him, but he maintained his submissive position.

"Your weapons…" Ultra Magnus managed, his voice rough with emotion.

Ultra Magnus felt Prowl's frame shiver faintly under his touch and – as close as he was – he felt the flicker of the former Enforcer's EM field against his. It hinted at what was easily sublime fear of whatever he suspected Ultra Magnus might be about to do. Nevertheless, Prowl silently slid aside the protective panel covering his weapon controls.

A quick scan of the exposed systems confirmed what Ultra Magnus had suspected. Prowl had full and complete access to all of his weapons.

"How long have you had full access to your weapons?" Ultra Magnus asked.

Prowl answered quietly. "Since the battle for Stanix, when the Decepticons started targeting tactical staff."

Venting heavily, Ultra Magnus tried to process that. Prowl had had his weapons during the review board, when Jazz had scanned him, when he had been hauled to the med bay for a confirmation of his energon levels… even now. Yet Prowl had never seemed inclined to use them. No more than Ironhide had been. Not even when Prowl had been stressed and on reduced rations, subjected to a disturbing level of public scrutiny.

"Prowl may be a former Decepticon, but he is an Autobot now. Please remember that in the future." The Prime's admonition echoed again in Ultra Magnus' processor. That reminder suddenly threw everything he had put Prowl through into a different perspective.

Ultra Magnus looked down at the mech still kneeling before him with arms spread and helm bowed and his gaze snagged on the red Autobot insignia on Prowl's chassis. Seeing the emblem, Ultra Magnus was reminded of the way Prowl had reacted when he had apologized to him for falsely jumping to conclusions about his adherence to the board's punishment.

Now that his processors had cooled, that the emotional heat was dissipating and reason was replacing the fury, Ultra Magnus was forced to admit something…something the mechs he trusted most had been trying to tell him for some time now. Something he had known but had not really wanted to accept.

Prowl was not the enemy.

… … …

Prowl watched the echoes of conflicting emotions behind Ultra Magnus' optics and felt his own dread grow exponentially. His experiences proved that when commanding officers battled so many emotions of such strength it seldom bode well for their underlings. And his personal history with Ultra Magnus was far from amiable.

The fact that Ultra Magnus still had a spinning blaster leveled at his chassis was not a good portend.

The wary indecision continued to war with fear and anger and Prowl knew he had to make the next move. Taking refuge in ancient tradition and pre-war social convention for when a mere 'public servant' – an Enforcer – had run afoul of a high-ranking mech like the Prime's Executive Officer, Prowl knelt.

Forcibly pushing down his own increasing fear at having Ultra Magnus' weapon now pointing at his helm – a sure fatal shot – Prowl lowered his optics and dipped his doorwings. Or at least he tried. The one Ultra Magnus had dislocated only jerked on its moorings, sending a stab of fire through his neural wiring.

Prowl only allowed himself to grimace before forcing himself to speak. "Commander, I have acted in a manner that places my fate in your hands. I should not have attacked you, regardless of the provocation. You are my commanding officer and such behavior is unconscionable."

Ultra Magnus did not respond for a long time and Prowl found himself growing increasingly concerned as the silence stretched and only the humming sound of the weapon being held only feet from his helm filled Prowl's audios.

Then the larger mech reached for him. Self-preservation subroutines screamed at him to twist away or defend himself, but Prowl forced himself to remain still – his arms slightly extended at his side and helm bowed – as Ultra Magnus' fingers stopped just as they brushed the armor that covered the control panel for his communications and weapon systems.

"Your weapons…" The Commander's voice was almost husky with the depth of his emotions.

Prowl tried to subdue a shiver and was not entirely successful. What was Ultra Magnus planning to do to him? He had already all but disarmed himself. Regardless, Prowl obediently slid the armor aside, granting the access his commanding officer had demanded.

Prowl cringed internally, bracing as a scan passed over him, expecting to feel those powerful fingers rip into the exposed control systems in retribution for having used a weapon to harm Ultra Magnus.

Instead, all he got was a shaky question. "How long have you had full access to your weapons?"

Prowl blinked, a mere question was not what he expected. Nevertheless he answered, "Since the battle for Stanix, when the Decepticons started targeting tactical staff."

After a tortuously long handful of astroseconds, Ultra Magnus stepped back though he did not respond to Prowl's answer. Prowl knew he was being studied, but be could not discern what was going through the larger mech's processor.

He had cut pain receptors to his doorwings and Wheeljack's dampeners were probably the only reason he was able to focus as well as he was. While he had received much worse injuries in the past, the dislocated joint casing was pinching a plexus of sensory wires because of the way it had been twisted when he had gotten out of the Commander's grip.

With a shallow vent of air, Prowl pushed the stabbing ache to the back of his processor and resigned himself to whatever the Prime's Second in Command was planning. He knew it would not be long now. At least he hoped not,

Abruptly the blaster that was aimed at his temple plating pulled back and the shifting of metal and working of gears told him it transformed into a hand. A moment later an open palm descended into his view.

Startled, Prowl blinked at the appendage and then looked up at its owner.

Light blue and silver faceplates, serious and somber, were still brimming with conflicting emotions. But fury and outrage were no longer part of the mix.

Ultra Magnus did not smile, but he did extend his hand a fraction closer. "There is no cause for you to kneel before me, Prowl."

Cautiously, almost in disbelief, Prowl reached up to take the hand that was being offered to him. He was gingerly pulled back to his pedes. When one of the joints in Prowl's damaged leg seized, Ultra Magnus' injured hand was instantly at his shoulder, steadying him.

Once he was relatively stable, Prowl stepped away – and Ultra Magnus let him – to more easily watch the Commander. The help that had been rendered seemed to indicate no additional punishment would be forthcoming, but Prowl wanted to be sure.

"You do not wish to administer further punishment for my assault on you?" Prowl asked cautiously.

Ultra Magnus eyed him, optics roving over the injuries Prowl had sustained. "I have judged you harshly from the moment you came to Iacon, even with evidence of my error before me." Cerulean optics snagged on Prowl's dislocated and deformed doorwing. "You've suffered enough damage at my hands.

Prowl released a long over due vent of air and lowered his optics formally, gratefully. "Thank you, Commander."

Because he was not looking, Prowl did not see the faint shudder that worked through the other mech's armor nor the fresh storm of inner turmoil his humble, non-assuming expression of gratitude elicited.

An uneasy, awkward silence descended around them.

Finally Optimus stepped forward, addressing his Second in Command. "What brings you in search of me?"

Ultra Magnus looked at his Prime. "We received a…" he glanced at Prowl "…classified message. When I tried to notify you, you did not respond to your comm.. I worried for your safety." He looked at Prowl again.

Optimus frowned, perhaps doing a diagnostic on his communication systems, which was confirmed when he spoke again. "Hm. It does appear to be non-functional. Probably damaged during our sparring match"

"My apologies, Prime." Prowl said immediately, stiffly formal and cautious in the presence of Ultra Magnus.

Optimus merely nodded to him. "Considering the state of mind you were in at the time, it is amazing that is the only damage I sustained."

Prowl glanced up at the Autobot leader a touch sheepishly. "I did warn you that you did not want to fight me, sir."

Optimus surprised both Prowl and Ultra Magnus by chuckling. "Indeed." He grew serious again. "But it was still the right decision." He looked at Ultra Magnus. "What was the message?"

Ultra Magnus hesitated, glancing at Prowl again.

Taking the hint, Prowl addressed the Prime. "If you will excuse me, Prime, I shall report to the med by to have my doorwing tended to."

"We should all go to the med bay." Optimus said, glancing at the wound on Ultra Magnus' arm. Then he gestured them to the door.

Ultra Magnus fell into step beside the Prime and Prowl took a position politely behind them.

As they made their way to the lifts, Optimus looked at his Second in Command. "The message?"

Again, Ultra Magnus glanced back at Prowl, as if he was hesitant to say something he had been trying to avoid. "It was classified 'Senior Command Level Optics' only."

"I see." Optimus also glanced back at Prowl, but the tactician politely pretended not to notice. He knew about classified information and was not even inclined to be offended.

They stepped onto the lift and Optimus grew thoughtful. "Is it urgent enough we should delay our repairs?"

Ultra Magnus considered that for a moment, then he shook his helm. "No, sir. It isn't something we can act on immediately."

… … …

As none of the three mechs were given to pointless conversation, most of the trip to the med bay was accomplished in silence. Prowl considered the broad back of the Autobot Second in Command. He suspected that, while Ultra Magnus might have realized he was no longer the enemy, the Commander's hesitance to speak in front of him was evidence it would still be some time before trust would come.

Which lead the tactician to wonder about the Commander's question as to how long he had had access to his weapons and Prowl began to suspect the decision to give him that access was either an oversight on Ratchet's part or one that the medic made without seeking approval first.

Prowl remembered the way the CMO had coached Patch and First Aid in installing the new control relays, remembered the system's check they had done and the basic exercises they had put him through to test the connections. Then all three medics had moved on to replacing the temporary plating he had received in Stanix with regular armor.

No one had returned to the topic of his weapons at all. Not even Prowl.

Prowl did his best to ignore the increasing number of stares the three of them garnered as they neared the med bay, knowing that speculation over what had happened would be the fodder of rumors for decaorns to come.

Prowl cleared his vents, and spoke quietly. "Excuse me, Commander?"

Ultra Magnus looked back at him not expecting to be addressed. Then he fell back a step to bring himself closer to the mech addressing him. "Yes?"

"Should I have Ratchet block my access to my weapons again?" Prowl asked with relatively little inflection.

Optics widening, Ultra Magnus appeared to struggle for words. "That… isn't necessary, Prowl."

Prowl continued to watch him warily. "But it would be your preference, Commander. Would it not?"

Ultra Magnus looked as if he thought Prowl had just asked him to take of an arm f, then he looked down. It was a couple of steps before he looked back at Prowl. "You've had access to them long enough – and in trying enough circumstances – it would be unreasonable to take them away again. Even if it makes me uncomfortable."

Prowl did not answer right away. "With all due respect, you are my commanding officer and the Second in Command. I do not wish for such a minor thing to be…"

"Keep your weapons, Prowl." Ultra Magnus cut him off, not quite able to meet his optics. "If you were going to be a threat with them, you would have already done so. I'll get used to it."

Blinking, Prowl realized it would be better to accept that. He lowered his gaze to the larger mech's chassis. "As you wish, sir. Please tell me if you change your mind."

Since he was ahead of them, and facing the direction they were walking, neither Ultra Mangus nor Prowl saw the relieved smile that tried to tug on Optimus' lip plates.

… … …

Ratchet had his back to the door when the three of them entered his med bay. First Aid, who was standing next to his mentor, was the one who looked up and saw them.

First Aid's lower jaw dropped. "Um…sir?"

Ratchet glanced at his apprentice and then turned around. All three of the newly arrived mechs tensed, waiting for his reaction. They were not disappointed.

"Oh." Ratchet's optics widened and then swiftly narrowed and a low, menacing growl echoed through his frame. "What the pit happened to the three of you?"

Prowl glanced at Optimus only to see that the Prime was looking at him, then at Ultra Magnus. The Commander likewise looked at his leader and then glanced at Prowl. None of them were sure what they could say that would not send the fiery CMO off at them. Prowl was faintly reassured to note that both Ultra Magnus and the Prime shared his concern.

Seeing their silent exchange, Ratchet shook his helm. "Never mind. I don't want to know."

With that, the CMO stalked across the med bay toward the warriors, First Aid in his wake. Prowl was not the only one to tense as the infuriated medic quickly ran a scan over each of them in succession.

Ratchet stopped at Optimus first and ran a scan over him which the Prime wisely did not protest. After a moment the medic released a disgusted harrumph. "Multiple dents, some strained gears – which can heal on their own – and a malfunctioning comm. system. Nothing serious."

Ratchet moved on to Ultra Magnus. "You only got a severe laceration to your right forearm gauntlet. Stings a bit, I bet."

"A bit." Ultra Magnus allowed warily.

Ratchet snorted and turned to look at Prowl, running the scan over him. "Why am I not surprised you are the worst off? Substantial denting – in fact, you lower chassis is almost completely caved in and your right doorwing is dislocated and has a crushed portion along it's leading edge. What the pit happened?"

It took a surprising amount of effort for Prowl to maintain his calm exterior. "I thought you did not want to know."

Ratchet leaned closer, brandishing a wrench, which he shook at Prowl. "Don't get smart with me, mech."

Prowl's working doowing flinched while the damaged one sparked painfully. Prowl suppressed a grimace. "The Prime and I were sparring."

Ratchet dropped the wrench, his mouth hanging open for a moment before he spun to face the Prime. "You did this to him?"

"I did." Ultra Magnus admitted, flinching away from the heated glare that was suddenly pinned on him. "I thought he was going to kill the Prime, so I…"

Ratchet snarled. "Optimus has the least damage of you lot! Prowl would never hurt the Prime, no matter what. He can't! His ethical coding won't let him. Are you telling me you…"

"Ratchet…" Prowl attempted to interject, but Ratchet turned on him with a growl.

"Stay out of this!" Chartreuse terror turned back on Ultra Magnus, not seeming to care that the larger mech towered over him. "You fragging crushed and dislocated his doorwing! Don't you have a clue the kind of agony that causes for a Praxian? It would have been kinder to sheer it off with an energon blade!"

Ultra Magnus' engine growled, only willing to accept being ranted at for so long. "I was not the one using an energon blade." He lifted his lacerated arm in demonstration.

Ratchet blinked, looking at the injury and then back at Prowl. "You did that?"

Prowl answered warily. "I reacted automatically when my doorwing was injured."

"It would have had to be an instinctive, spontaneous thing or that tracer coding would have knocked you into stasis." Ratchet murmured thoughtfully. "I thought you had more control than that."

"I should have, you are right." Prowl dipped his helm. "Rest assured the Commander has already dealt with that loss of control." There is no need for you to do so, Prowl hoped was understood.

Ratchet eyed the collapsed section of Prowl's chassis. "Right. I see that. Fine."

Ratchet looked at Optimus and pointed to a berth. "There. You can either wait for me to finish with these two scrap heaps or Jolt can fix that comm. system control."

"Jolt is competent and skilled, he can do the needed repair." Optimus' calm base tones rumbled soothingly over the med bay.

Ratchet nodded, looking at the blue and black medic – who had come in to see what his boss was yelling about – and jerked his helm in the Prime's direction. Jolt hurried to do as he was told as Ratchet turned to Ultra Magnus.

"You," Ratchet pointed up into the Commander's face, "get to wait till First Aid and I are done with Prowl."

Ratchet snapped his fingers at First Aid, who hurried closer while simultaneously using the other hand to point Prowl to a berth.

The two medics converged on Prowl as the tactician sat obediently on the indicated berth.

Ratchet grimaced again as he scanned Prowl's damage. "I would like to off-line you for this. Are your tanks still around 48%?"

"At the moment, my fuel levels are at 30.28%." Prowl said flatly.

Optimus blinked, Ultra Magnus recoiled physically as did First Aid and Jolt. Ratchet just stared at him for a long moment.

"What!" Ratchet finally managed before running another, more penetrating scan. "Prowl, are you out of your fragging processor? 30%?"

Ultra Magnus took a tiny, hesitant step toward Prowl. "What were your fuel levels when I… grabbed your doorwing?"

Prowl shifted uneasily, but quickly reviewed his system logs before providing his answer. "34.51%, sir."

Air whistled through Ratchet's vents looking at Ultra Magnus. "Initial survival protocols were already running and he was in the middle of a fight… you were lucky an energon dagger to the forearm was all you got. All of that going on and a dislocated doorwing with crushed sensory panels…"

"Indeed." Ultra Magnus muttered, looking unnerved.

Prowl narrowed his optics at the medic. "I might have acted without forethought, but I was in no real danger of berserking. Please, Ratchet, if it is not too much to ask, can we get on with repairs?"

"I can't off-line you without inserting an energon drip because your energon levels are so low." Ratchet cocked an optic ridge as if daring Prowl to question him.

"I understand." Prowl was quick to acquiesce to the medic's point. "As soon as the repairs are done, I will refuel."

"No." Ratchet shook his helm sharply and reached into a supply drawer attached to the berth and deftly set up an energon drip with a minimum of swift and efficient movements. Then, without fanfare or giving Prowl a chance to protest, he jabbed the injector into an infusion port nestled between armor plates on Prowl's thigh.

Prowl managed not to even flinch as the blunt-tip needle pierced the port. Instead, he looked at the CMO with an optic ridge cocked. Ratchet snorted air. "Do you want me to wait till your energon levels are back up to safe levels to off line you for repairs?"

Still miffed at the medic's actions, even though he knew they were well intended, Prowl shook his helm, speaking through gritted denta. "Just it get it done."

Ratchet blinked in surprise and then growled at the tactician. "Fragging warriors. Fine. Have it your way."

The CMO turned to his apprentice, seeming to ignore the fact that Prowl was still conscious. "First Aid, get over here." First Aid scurried around the berth and Ratchet continued. "Immobilize his doorwings…okay, good. Now, whenever dealing with dislocated doorwings, make sure you examine the area carefully before resetting them. What do you see?"

First Aid leaned closer to Prowl's back, running a narrow-beam scan on the joint casing. "It… yes. This neural wire is pinched, as is this motor cable."

"Yes." Ratchet confirmed. "So, when you manipulate the doorwing back into position, make sure that you first lift it this way to free the trapped wire, then twist it to the left to free the cable before resetting the hinge. Otherwise, you will abrade the wires and possibly snap them entirely."

"Won't that…"

"Yes, it will hurt him like the pit. But if the slagger doesn't want to wait to be off-lined, he can just suck it up his intakes." Ratchet glared at the back of Prowl's helm with enough venom the tactician actually felt like ducking. "And it will stretch the joint's tension wires, but it's the only way to do it without surgically disconnecting it and reattaching everything properly. And even though one might think Prowl enjoys this type of torture, I wouldn't do that with any mech online in anything but a life or death situation."

When Ratchet finally fell silent, the harsh sound of First Aid's heaving vents filled Prowl's audios.

After a long moment when nothing happened, First Aid finally stammered, "I…I…"

"You are going to be a senior medic some orn, First Aid." Ratchet said more gently but still demanding. "You have to know how to do this."

"But…"

Ratchet made an exasperated noise. "Of all the mechs to try this on the first time, Prowl is the best. You know that."

None of the three mechs involved in the situation noticed that Ultra Magnus' helm jerked back at that declaration, nor did they register the tiny step he took toward them.

First Aid's engine whined. "But… he's still online…"

"Yes." Ratchet spat toward Prowl. "The glitch. But I had to re-set a doorwing after Praxus, so he knows what he's getting into."

"This is… is worse than that one…" First Aid tried again.

"It is." Ratchet growled. "Which means that the longer we wait, the longer the slagger suffers from pinched wires and cables."

First Aid's engine continued to whine, his vents rasping on the air he tried to cycle. "Prowl…"

"You can do the repair, First Aid." Prowl managed to speak calmly. "Do not think of anything but the problem before you and focus on solving it."

Engine revving uncomfortably, First Aid stepped toward Prowl and lifted hands that trembled faintly.

Ultra Magnus, who had been watching silently, frowned as he saw Prowl's hands tighten on the edge of the berth before First Aid even touched him. Hit with a sudden wave of nausea and guilt for having caused that much damage and impressed anew that Prowl would then submit to what he clearly expected to be even worse, the Commander impulsively extended his good arm toward the Praxian.

Prowl looked at the hand thrust in front of him, then glanced up at Ultra Magnus' faceplate. His optics widened as he realized what the Second in Command was offering. He just managed to shake his helm when First Aid took hold of the doorwing.

White-hot fire shot through his back and Prowl shuttered his optics, his hands clamping down on the berth. Unlike Ratchet's deft and quick movements, First Aid was being painstakingly careful. Prowl did not blame the junior medic for his caution, but that did not stop the burning agony as the tension wires were stretched.

Then the neural wire snapped free, followed a moment later by the cable. A nanosecond after that, the sensory panel was settled into proper place, relief flooding Prowl's systems.

The tactician released a heavy vent and slumped forward, only then realizing that the hand that Ultra Magnus had offered for him to grab was now resting lightly on his shoulder.

Then Prowl belated realized that First Aid was calling his designation.

"…wl? Prowl, are you alright?" The medic's voice trembled.

"I will live." Prowl answered, his voice husky.

Ratchet snorted while First Aid cringed. "I'm so sorry! I'll never mess with your doorwings again. I swear!"

Prowl jerked upright, turning his helm to look at First Aid squarely "Yes, you will."

Everyone in the med bay went absolutely still at the authoritative but still gentle bite in the Praxian's voice as he slid off the berth to stand in front of First Aid. "Setting a dislocated doorwing hurts. There is nothing you can do to avoid that while a mech is online. And you successfully reset the doorwing. This was a success, First Aid, not a failure. The next time you have to do it, it will be easier."

Prowl's tone and demeanor relaxed then and he put a hand on the white and orange medic's arm. "You cannot stop doing repairs because they hurt the patient. You know that."

Ratchet recovered first, eyeing Prowl before nodding firmly. "I couldn't say that any better myself. Now, First Aid, you finish with Prowl and I'll see to Ultra Magnus.

First Aid lowered his gaze meekly. "Yes, sir."

Prowl took a moment to look up at Ultra Magnus, remembering his unexpected offer of support. "Thank you, sir."

Ultra Magnus nodded, but he seemed more shaken than sure as he allowed Ratchet to push him, none to gently, toward another berth. Without looking at the still ticked off CMO he spoke to Prowl. "I should have evaluated the situation more carefully before I acted, Prowl."

Optics widening Ratchet stopped shoving the larger mech and stared. But Prowl shook his helm slowly, carefully. "I appreciate that sir. But had the threat you assumed I posed been real, waiting to act would have resulted in the death of our Prime."

Prowl bowed his helm in a deferential gesture that caught every observing mech off guard and made guilt stab through Ultra Magnus' spark. "While I know you in no way need my approval, your actions were correct as far as you understood the situation, Commander."

Ultra Magnus shook his helm, ignoring those around them, looking only at Prowl as his engine gave a low rev. "But you were not a true threat. So my actions were unnecessarily harsh. Cruel even."

It was Prowl's turn to blink, and while it was probably inappropriate to meet his superior's gaze as he did, Prowl was unable to look away. With that statement, Ultra Magnus was opening himself up to charges of abuse of power and cruelty to a subordinate, should Prowl wish to press them. And, said in the presence of so many witnesses, it was also a declaration that he would not contest such a charge if Prowl wished to pursue one.

It was an offer.

The way Ultra Magnus' frame almost trembled with the tension racing through his wires and yet the determined way the larger mech held his gaze told Prowl more than the words did how sincere the Second in Command was. It was the first time Ultra Magnus had interacted with him as a being of equal worth and Prowl felt his own engine give a light rev.

Had he not had his recent memories to draw on, those of his own horrible actions as a Decepticon and then his experiences since coming to Iacon, Prowl would have been more tempted to take the opportunity Ultra Magnus had just handed him. But as it was, the larger part of Prowl only wished for reconciliation. So many of the Autobots had been willing to look past the harm he had done to them and their cause to trust and even befriend him in a few isolated cases. While he did not assume he would ever actually befriend Ultra Magnus, Prowl found he was more inclined to do the same thing so many had done for him.

Prowl nodded slowly, acknowledging Ultra Magnus' unspoken offer for restitution and then relaxed into a more deferential posture and shook his helm, declining to accept that offer. "Thank you, Commander."

Then Prowl looked at Ratchet breaking the moment. "My energon levels are back above 45%. You may discontinue the energon drip."

Ratchet shook his helm. "Not a chance in pit, Prowl. The review board's ruling said 'baring emergency or injury' and you are most definitely injured."

"My most debilitating injury is resolved, there is no need…" Prowl began but Ratchet cut him off.

The CMO left the Commander to soundly thwack the crushed plating along Prowl's abdomen in harsh reminder, but not enough to cause additional damage. "That isn't minor. You have at least five punctured lines in there but the pressure of the armor against the injuries is preventing leaks for now. We can't address those without having your tanks at 60% minimum to be safe."

Ratchet glared back at Ultra Magnus. "That is my call, not his."

Ultra Magnus lifted his hands. "Point taken, Ratchet."

Ratchet harrumphed. "First Aid, you can work on that damaged doorwing until his energon levels are up to where they need to be."

First Aid stared. "His… doorwing?"

"You've worked on his doorwings before, First Aid." Ratchet said with a hint of a smirk. "It's just like any other armor plating just more sensitive."

"Much more sensitive." First Aid murmured, but Prowl had already returned to the berth.

With a sigh of air First Aid turned back to his patient and started at seeing the tiny smirk on Prowl's lip plates. After a brief hesitation, the junior medic felt himself relax fractionally, offering a tiny, self-depreciating smile in return. Prowl had told him he would end up working on his doorwings again and he had been right.

Doorwings still immobilized from the re-setting of the dislocated joint, First Aid went straight to work. Prowl, for his part just sat there, stoic as always, as the crushed plating and sensory housings were gently pulled back into proper shape and alignment. In places where the metal had split, First Aid gingerly soldered them closed.

It was only after he was well into the procedure that it finally dawned on the junior medic what he was doing. Ratchet was tending another patient, not at his side to walk him through this task. He was… he was working on a Praxian's doorwing on his own.

First Aid's vents hitched at that realization and his hand trembled. The gentle, questioning flare of Prowl's EM field against his own – calming and supportive but subtly so – reminded him that his patient could feel every thing he did… and a hundred times more acutely than on normal plating.

"Sorry." He murmured, just loud enough for Prowl to hear.

Even as he put in extra concentration to make sure his movements were gentle, and was successful for the most part, First Aid could not truly define the feeling that settled around his spark.

He knew Prowl. He knew Prowl's past, what he had been – what he had caused to be done to medics – and he knew what Prowl had become. He knew he trusted Prowl to teach him skills his core coding would never have accepted another way. He trusted Prowl enough to do such work on a doorwing without even thinking about restraining him. He knew bits and pieces of what Prowl had endured at the Decepticon's hands – as one of them for pit's sake – that had made him terrified of medics when he had first come to Iacon. Or perhaps that was knowing he was a legitimate target for their own anger toward him for his actions against Autobot medics in the past.

Regardless of all that, it was Prowl who was letting him work on a doorwing unsupervised by the only medic every other Praxian insisted do such repairs.

Prowl trusted him.

First Aid had known that, the mech had even said as much on more than one occasion. But demonstrated like this, it hit First Aid like a physical blow.

He was a medic, training to be a senior medic at some point. Every mech that came to him for treatment trusted him to some degree. Flashes of mechs opening their chest armor to let Ratchet fix delicate internals and even spark-casings raced through First Aid's processor and it sank deep into his spark just how much trust Ratchet had.

The weight of what it really meant to be a medic settled over him as it never had before.

Mechs did not just trust him to pop out dents and mend minor injuries. Every time a mech or femme allowed him to off-line them for repairs, they were trusting him with their life.

It was not a heady feeling that generated, but rather a solid burden that came to rest on his shoulders and cast his function into a perspective that shifted just enough to be noticeable. Oh, he had known what it meant to be a medic, but that was different than truly knowing.

Apparently content to let him think, Prowl made no move to break the contemplative silence as First Aid continued to work on the crushed leading edge of his doorwing. And First Aid was grateful for that as well.

In some ways, the repair to the doorwing went way to fast, and soon there was nothing left First Aid could do with it.

"It's gonna be sore for a couple of orns till the repairs finalize." First Aid told his patient softly.

Prowl nodded his understanding, but said nothing. Perhaps he could sense the heavy aura of introspection around First Aid and was loath to interrupt.

At the very least it was not a judgmental silence.

With a grateful sigh of air through his intakes, First Aid ran a quick scan of Prowl's fuel levels. Then he looked back up at his mentor – who was still working on Ultra Magnus' arm. Apparently Prowl's blow had damaged some of the internal workings of the Commander's appendage.

"Ratchet," He called just loud enough to be heard. Ratchet glanced at him to acknowledge he had been addressed but went right back to work. First Aid continued. "Prowl's fuel levels just reached 61%."

Ratchet paused then, looking over at the two of them. "Very good. Go ahead and get started. I'll join you as soon as I'm finished here."

"Yes sir." First Aid's response was more subdued than usual, the weight of his recent epiphanies still clinging to his armor and processor. He looked at Prowl. "This… this will be easier if you were lying down."

Prowl glanced up at him searchingly and First Aid was struck with the sudden feeling that the Praxian had an inkling of what he had just been thinking.

"As you wish." Prowl, just as calm and unaffected externally as always, repositioned himself on the berth and lay back.

First Aid started working on him, still not chatting as he normally did. He was too focused on making sure he did not make a mistake, the impact of realizing just how much the mech under his hands was trusting him made it impossible for him to do anything but focus entirely on his job.

Even as he straightened metal plates, First Aid knew that even doing so as gently as he could, it was still less than pleasant for the Praxian under his care. Even so, bless his spark, Prowl said and did nothing to indicate he was in any discomfort. It quickly became evident that Ratchet had been right and that several tertiary energon lines had been punctured.

As the offending metal edges were pulled out, tiny rivulets of glowing fluid would seep out and start to trickle from Prowl's internal systems and onto the berth beneath him. Each time it happened, First Aid carefully scanned the internal damage and, as each one was actually rather insignificant, left them to seal on their own.

As he worked inward from the edges of the crushed area of heavy metal armor the depth of the entire wound lessened. Perhaps First Aid did not catch it because he was more distracted with his own internal musings than he should have been. Perhaps it was because he had not even considered such damage very likely because of the functioning level of his patient. Perhaps it was because it was not right under where he was working at the time. Perhaps, in the end, it did not really matter.

As the deepest part of the wound – an area that had buckled, forming a razor-sharp edge that had dug into the internals it protected – was pulled far enough away, the pressurized, primary energon line that been caught beneath and impaled by it, finally pulled free.

Prowl saw the warnings flash across his HUD at the same moment he heard First Aid exclaim and that was only a nanosecond before he felt energon soak his frame and the berth beneath him even as his internal pressure sensors registered a precipitous drop in energon levels.

Instantly the tactician knew there was only one thing he could do to help the medics and that was to shut everything down and conserve whatever energon he could because primary lines could not be rerouted. There was only one way he could do that.

If he had still been among Decepticons, it would have been suicide, but Prowl found he did not even question what he did.

As soon as Prowl realized what had happened, he shut down everything he could; optics, audio receptors, sensors, chronometer, advanced processors, motor systems…everything. He was left in complete darkness; utterly blind to the outside world. He was conscious, but that was it. He could not hear or see and had no proof he was not completely alone. With his gyroscopic systems offline as well, Prowl could not even tell if he was still lying prone on the berth.

It was a state in which almost every drop of energon could be leaked – or siphoned – out of his frame and he would still live. Technically.

It was a state of emergency stasis, even deeper than that of a medical stasis in that not even his self-repair systems would function. Nothing would change in his outward condition except what was done to it by others.

It was the type of stasis into which non-defecting POW's – those who were to be held for prolonged periods of time – were placed. It was the best fate he could have hoped for when he had first came to Iacon as a Decepticon.

Without his chronometer, Prowl had no way of knowing how much time was passing. It could have been orns or mere astroseconds. And that was its own torment… the true aspect of such a state that made it punishment as much as anything else. He would not be able to pull himself on his own.

It did not escape his notice that it was a state he had put himself into.

The only thing that made it bearable was that Prowl realized he trusted both Ratchet and First Aid and knew he was in good hands. He knew it was just a matter of time before the damage was fixed and he would be on-lined again.

Thus, Prowl resolved to wait, embraced by blackness.

… … …

Ratchet looked up at First Aid's horrified explanation, saw the sudden flood of energon that bubbled from Prowl's chassis like a miniature fountain and reacted. He was leaping away from Ultra Magnus before he was conscious of moving at all.

Prowl's optics flicked off his systems going unnaturally still an instant later. A quick scan showed he had placed himself in forced stasis. A part of the CMO's processor acknowledged the statement of trust that was on Prowl's part, but the majority of his mind decided the revelation was not important enough to ponder at the moment and ruthlessly pushed it aside to process later.

"Get that armor off! We have to get that line clamped." He barked at his apprentice.

But First Aid was already working on that, before he had even spoken. His apprentice's optics were filled with horror, but his actions were smooth and urgent. Whatever emotional turmoil the younger mech was experiencing, Ratchet knew he would process it later. First Aid knew the life of their patient came first.

Powering up his own laser scalpel, Ratchet shook his helm. "Don't make it pretty, just get it off."

First Aid nodded and powered up his own scalpel and together they just cut the segment of armor free rather than bother with the welds or fittings. It was heavy, dense armor, designed to take a beating and keep the mech functioning; Enforcer's armor. It was a testament about the force used to deliver such an injury and, had he not been as focused as he was on saving a life, Ratchet would have growled.

Even as they worked, Jolt left Optimus to dial up the energon drip before rushing to fetch a larger energon reservoir to attach. Yes, his staff was well trained.

Finally freeing the armor plate, First Aid set it aside and turned back to clamp the line, only to find Ratchet had done that. With the immediate danger at bay, Ratchet was waiting for First Aid before continuing. Without speaking, the younger mech transformed his hand into a solder, But Ratchet shook his helm.

"Clamp the line, then solder the breach."

First Aid blinked. "But you're clamping it…"

"You won't always have help." Ratchet's optics were unyielding. "It's nice when you have it, but you need to be able to do such a surgery on your own."

Had it been any other mech, Ratchet most likely would not have reacted this way. But Prowl had made it clear that he was willing to let Ratchet use him to teach First Aid, and this was a lesson First Aid needed. Perhaps it was dubious consent in this instance, but considering what he knew of Prowl, he was confident the Praxian would not mind. The glitch would most likely approve too.

If not, Ratchet would apologize. Maybe.

First Aid's optics bulged. "But…"

Ratchet snarled, not truly threatening, but enough to snap First Aid out of whatever funk he had fallen into. "Shut up and start working!" Then he softened his tone. "I'll walk you through it if you need help."

First Aid blinked, clearly frightened that Ratchet would trust him with that much autonomy after such a horrible, preventable mistake. But that was exactly the lesson Ratchet needed his apprentice to learn. Mistakes happened. Experience helped prevent them in time, but mistakes happened. A medic needed to be able to fix his mistakes and keep doing his job. First Aid was too quick to let a mistake rattle him, to make him shy away.

Prowl had seemed to sense as much and the fact that he had been unwilling to just let First Aid give up working on his doorwings gave Ratchet the confidence that he would have the Praxian's support in this too.

First Aid's optics flashed with alarm but Ratchet shook his helm. "He trusts you, First Aid."

Ratchet saw the double meaning of those words impact his apprentice as First Aid shuttered his optics as he forced himself to focus and then, with a barely noticeable hesitation, reached back into the gaping hole in Prowl's chassis.

First Aid did know how to do this; he had done it countless times before.

With a mental shake, First Aid transformed one hand into a clmap and placed it right next to Ratchet's – which was then released and retracted. The junior medic's other hand transformed into a solder and he set to work.

And First Aid worked silently, not really needing Ratchet's direction. That offer had merely been to give him confidence and support. Because the white and orange medic was so focused on mending the energon line, he did not see the tiny smirk on Ratchet's lip plate.

Finding he needed both hands, First Aid set the clamp and then released if from his frame. Freeing that hand he transformed it into a slender forceps and reached back into Prowl's chassis to take a firm hold on the flexible fuel line.

… … …

Well beyond Ratchet, Ultra Magnus looked at the Prime with concern etched across his faceplate. Seeing his look, Optimus merely shook his helm, radiating calm. Have confidence, his Prime was ordering with infinite gentleness.

Taking in a deep vent, Ultra Magnus looked back at the emergency surgery taking place. Never would he have imagined he had given the mech such a serious injury, not that he would have cared at the time. It was further evidence Prowl had not attempted to resist his 'discipline.'

Nausea swirled in the Commander's tanks. Discipline was meant to be instructive and corrective, not to threaten the life of the one being punished. The only mechs who willingly administered life-threatening punishments were the Decepticons and…

Vent's stalling, Ultra Magnus almost purged his tanks.

He had committed a Decepticon-like assault on a lower-ranking mech.

Sickened anew, the large mech recalled Prowl's persistence in showing deference and respect through overly-formal displays. Displays that only high-ranking Decepticons demanded on a regular basis. Displays Prowl had felt necessary to protect himself from Ultra Magnus' wrath.

He had been suspicious of that behavior, wondering if Prowl was doing it to mock him. Realizing that perhaps Prowl had been right, Ultra Magnus's vision lost focus as his tanks churned.

A large, warm hand landed on his shoulder, squeezing gently. Optimus.

Feeling distinctly unworthy of such an offer of comfort, only an ingrained desire not to insult his Prime kept Ultra Magnus from shifting away from Optimus. But the Prime did not speak immediately, though Ultra Magnus knew his leader had something on his processor.

Forcing the rigidity out of his frame, Ultra Magnus forced himself to relax submissively into the slightly younger mech's grip.

Sensing his silent surrender, Optimus finally spoke, softly and gently but also pointedly. "In the midst of an emergency, real or perceived, restraint is seldom foremost on a mech's processor."

Ultra Magnus looked up at his Prime and knew he was right. The Commander had not cared how much he had hurt prowl when he had grabbed his doorwing. But it had not been panic-driven desperation that had fueled his second and third strike. It had been fury and outrage.

It was then that Ultra Magnus realized the Prime's words were not so much an attempt to comfort as they were reproof. He was Second in Command. He was expected to show self-restraint at all times because, if he could not control himself, he had no business commanding others. It was also the Prime's ever-gentle way of letting his Second in Command know that he was well aware of Ultra Magnus' failure.

Feeling acutely ashamed, Ultra Magnus lowered his gaze to his Prime's chassis and felt his armor settle even more submissively across his frame. If Prowl refused to press charges, perhaps the Prime would dispense a suitable reprimand.

"I lost control. I have no excuse." Ultra Magnus confessed heavily and his engine revved. "I do not like finding I have acted as a Decepticon."

"You are hardly acting like a Decepticon, Ultra Magnus." Optimus said, his hand still on his Second's arm.

Ultra Magnus' engine growled quietly, "I nearly killed a subordinate in a fit of rage. How is that not Decepticon?"

Optimus considered him silently for a moment and then removed his comforting hand and Ultra Magnus was left with nothing to chase away the chill of realizing what he had done.

"Accidents happen. I doubt you set out to kill him." Optimus whispered finally.

Ultra Magnus was not sure. Deep within his ethical coding, part of the programming that had once made him a candidate to be Prime, Ultra Mangus' spark protested that he should face some form of punishment for what he had done. Justice.

"I should have had more control." The Commander said softly. "I should not have jumped to conclusions. Prime… My behavior in this matter was unacceptable and sets a dangerous precedent if it is not punished…"

Optimus cocked an optic ridge when he trailed off. "What would you have me do, my friend?"

Ultra Magnus fell silent for a long moment, accessing the appropriate regulations. It did not look pretty. There was only one punishment that truly fit the crime he had committed; abuse of power and cruelty to a subordinate.

"I will not demote you, Magnus." Optimus spoke before Ultra Magnus could voice his conclusions. "I am confident you will learn from this and that it will not be repeated. Besides, there is no one suitable to take your place."

Ultra Magnus was surprised when his immediate reaction was to disagree. There was one mech who could do the job just as well if not better, and Ultra Magnus was further surprised to realize the was not immediately repulsed by the idea. Not quite ready to dwell on that possibility, Ultra Magnus cleared his vents, looking down at the mostly finished weld on his arm.

Then he released a vent of air in a long sigh. "Then I shall restrict myself to my quarters when not on duty for three quartex."

Optimus looked at him closely, the absence of a refusal very telling as to how Prime thought. Finally the cobalt and red mech nodded once. Agreement more than acceptance.

Ultra Magnus managed not to wince. "You will make sure the reason is appropriately recorded?"

Because a punishment delivered to prevent lower ranking mechs from duplicating an action did little good if no one knew the connection. Optimus knew that as well and he nodded again.

With another vent of air, Ultra Magnus turned back to watch the ongoing repairs. First Aid was in the process of popping out the removed piece of plating and patching the area that had fractured.

… … …

It was not until the life-threatening injury had been fixed, and he was finishing the minor cosmetic corrections to the crumpled piece of plating, that he had had removed that First Aid's hands started to tremble. That tremble only became noticeable to others when he tried to reset the removed plating and was unable to line it up properly.

Ratchet reached over and touched his apprentice's arm. "You did well."

First Aid shook his helm, mentally slapping himself as he tried in vain to hold the metal in place. "I… I could have killed him. I… I never imagined…"

"Now you know to be more careful. That is all." Ratchet said firmly, not absolving First Aid of guilt but not giving him any way to bury himself in it either. "This type of thing happens. It could have been any one of us."

"I know, but…" First Aid started miserably, but Ratchet cut him off.

"If it will make you feel better, you can apologize to him when you bring him out of stasis." Ratchet nodded to the arrant piece of metal armor. "Finish up."

Taking in a deep vent of air, First Aid nodded and with an effort regained control of himself. With hands that were still not as steady as he would have wished, he managed to weld the piece of armor back into place. Then he reached up to readjust the energon drip so that Prowl's systems would not be flooded.

Once Prowl's fuel levels were back above 35%, First Aid began preparations to bring him back on-line. Knowing how disconcerting being in such a state was to a patient, First Aid first brought him up into a regular medical stasis, letting his low-level automatic systems to reinitialize.

Then, hesitating only a moment, he synched with Prowl's processor to be there to help him if needed.

For even as short a time as it had been, the kindest way to on-line a mech in Prowl's condition was gradually, even if it was physically possible to do it all at once. First Aid was about to boot up the next system when a flicker of awareness brushed his processor.

He nearly shuddered. Prowl had been aware the whole time. That was only possible if he had intentionally placed himself in stasis. He had assumed it had been an automatic, emergency shut down, not an intentional choice. Then he shook himself and reached back for the flicker of awareness, even as he powered up another system.

In the physical world, a quiet hum was all that announced Prowl was gradually booting up. Inside the tactician's processor, First Aid transmitted a very timid. ~How do you feel?~

No words answered – Prowl had shut down higher processors – but a swift series of impressions brushed across his processor. ~Patience. Confidence. Relief. Gratitude.~

The gratitude caused a sense of guilt to constrict First Aid's spark. That guilt was met with a brush of concern and question from his patient.

First Aid was stuck. He could not apologize in the privacy that their hardline connection provided. It would not be fair to Prowl when he was unable to communicate beyond feelings and impressions.

~I'm going to bring you on-line now.~ He sent to the Praxian along with a promise for a full explanation.

An impression of agreement, and an eagerness to get on with it, flickered in First Aid's perception. First Aid quickly resumed doing exactly that. Then, realizing Prowl was able to finish the process after his higher processors were reinitialized, First Aid backed out of the mech's mind.

The hum grew louder as Prowl's final systems powered back up and then his optics flickered on. He blinked his optic shutters and then focused on First Aid.

First Aid spoke timidly and repeated the question he had asked earlier. "How do you feel?"

"Much improved." Prowl answered, optics focused briefly on where First Aid was gripping one hand in the other to keep them from shaking, then focused back on the medic's optics as he pushed himself into a sitting position.

Embarrassed, First Aid was unable to meet his patient's optics.

"Do not blame yourself." Prowl's calm words were accompanied by a gentle hand on his arm.

First Aid shook his helm, still not looking up. "But if I had been more careful…"

"Perhaps." Prowl cut him off. "But it also might not have made a difference. I was not even aware of the punctured line. You fixed the damage, and saved my life. Thank you."

First Aid blinked up at Prowl then. "You… you aren't angry?"

"Even if it was your fault, you fixed the damage. That is what matters." Prowl gave him a tiny smile.

"Exactly." Ratchet spoke then, looking at Prowl; grateful that he had not lost his temper at First Aid, though that gratitude was well hidden. Then the CMO smirked. "Now, aren't you glad I didn't take that slagging drip out?"

Prowl cocked an optic ridge but then lowered his helm just as he did to Ultra Magnus, bowing to the superior force. "Indeed. I should know better than to try and dictate in medical matters."

Ratchet reached out and slapped him lightly on the shoulder, the smile negating the harshness of his words. "Just remember that." The CMO looked at his apprentice and grew serious. "You, come with me."

Not waiting for an answer, Ratchet took First Aid by the arm and pulled him away, toward his office.

Ultra Magnus looked at his arm and called out. "But… you haven't finished. Ratchet!"

Ratchet merely glanced over his shoulder. "You can wait till I've taken care of this… or Prowl is remarkably good at that type of repair."

Silently the three warriors watched the two medics disappear into the CMO's office.

"If it were anyone but Ratchet, that would have been insubordination." Ultra Magnus murmured.

Prowl hesitated, considering the tall light blue mech carefully. "I would recommend not taking it personally, Commander." He spoke softly, not knowing if his input would be welcome. "Ratchet is concerned about his apprentice. I imagine the incident shook First Aid badly."

Ultra Magnus looked down at Prowl, considering him closely. "You're saying First Aid needed help more than I do right now?"

"Yes, sir." Prowl paused, letting his doorwings dip. "If you wish, I can finish soldering your arm…"

"Why would Ratchet suggest you?" Ultra Magnus asked, hesitating a moment. He was not sure his already guilt-wracked spark could handle the one he had nearly killed being the one to work on repairing him.

Was the offer merely Prowl following the implied order of a superior officer or a genuine offer?

But Prowl was looking at him with clear optics and then accepted his commander's arm when it was slowly extended toward him.

Pulling a small soldering device out of subspace Prowl threw the bewildered Commander a tiny smile. "A good question, sir."

Optimus' engine gave a low, rolling chuckle that did not give away any of his relief that Prowl and Ultra Magnus seemed to be coming to equitable terms. "It was probably Ratchet's way of reminding both of you to work together."


Note One: Hope this shed some light into Ultra Magnus. As I mentioned in the AN of some earlier chapter, I actually like Ultra Magnus. He just has issues.

Note Two: The extent of Prowl's damage from Ultra Magnus not being fully apparent until repairs started is actually based on a true story. Got a survivor from a car accident in the ER one night, he was alert and talking and only some bruising along his abdomen indicated he had any internal injury. Well, when they took him to emergency surgery apparently his descending aorta had ruptured just before it branched into his femoral arteries (that's low in pelvis). He was still conscious because as he bled out the pressure of blood had actually built up enough that it temporarily stopped the bleeding... but when they opened him up to repair the rupture he was dead in a matter of seconds, before they could even get to it.

My reasoning as to why First Aid didn't catch it with all their advanced technology is because it was Ratchet who ran the scan and he knew (why else would he not want to disconnect the energon drip?) but First Aid needed to learn not to just blindly depend on his mentor. It might be cruel, but since Cybertronians aren't like organics, it wasn't like it was a sure death sentence like it would be for us. By the way, that is one of the reasons, why when you go to the hospital, every single provider that comes into your room (nurses and physicians at least) will do at least a quick physical assessment/exam... because they don't dare risk that the one who came before them didn't overlook something. (That and they have to make sure things haven't changed... but 'looking for themselves' is a major reason.)

Note Three: Please be patient, the next chapter will not be posted nearly as quickly as this one and the one before it. I didn't want to leave you waiting long enough to get the next one written before I posted this one. (My in-box was melting in the heat of your reviews… I didn't want to take a chance that it would overwhelm my bunker's defenses... because I'm probably going to need it again in the future. *devious snicker*)

Please share your thoughts. :)