My friends, I apologize for taking so long to get this chapter posted as well as for the brevity of the chapter itself. Thank you, everyone, for your patience. Please see the AN at the end of the chapter for additional comments.


For the sixth time in the two decaorns following the young Decepticon spy's defection, Prowl was racing through the halls of Iacon. Though he doubted the sudden uptick in Decepticon aggression had anything to do directly related to Mirage's defection, it was as if it had been a trigger. This time had interrupted a meeting Prowl was having with the Prime. Even as he moved, Prowl tapped into the communication systems as well as the sensory relays fed to the tactical department. He tuned out the alert klaxons as he set his battle and tactical computers to work analyzing the situation with his usual efficiency.

Apparently the Decepticons had attacked a relatively minor trade outpost within Iacon's immediate sphere of influence. Prowl began issuing appropriate orders that would scramble Iacon's response teams before he even reached the Tactical Department. Thankfully, the proximity of the attack would not require Prowl or any tactician to go into the theatre of combat.

Smokescreen was already synched to the main terminal, as was Trailbreaker. Prowl glanced around as he pulled up to the terminal and met Fusion's optics. With a flick of his fingers he gestured to the terminal. The younger mech hesitated, and then moved forward. Synching with the main terminal in order to observe a battle directly was the most Prowl had been able to get Fusion to do as far as direct instruction went. It was enough for the younger Praxian to learn what he needed to learn, though it would take longer than it would otherwise.

With a sigh of air gusting through his vents, Prowl pushed away his borderline irritation with Fusion's reticence and focused one hundred present on the burgeoning battle. This close to Iacon, it was imperative that the Decepticons be repelled, and quickly.

Under Prowl's expert direction, Autobot fliers – who arrived first over the field – were quickly able to drive back the Decepticon seekers. Ironhide's team arrived next. As the heavy hitters transformed, they immediately began pummeling the Decepticon frontliners.

Smokescreen focused on positioning the defense teams stationed at the lonely outpost, while Trailbreaker was acting as a secondary review of incoming data, looking for otherwise missed clues as to the Decepticon's tactics and intentions. In the two decorns of nearly constant action, the three of them had melded into an oiled machine, able to do their jobs in a seamless unity that impressed any who might witness it.

For nearly ten breems, the battle proceeded smoothly. Almost too smoothly.

/Elita One, there are three Decepticons headed your direction: Seven, seven, six by four two point three./ Prowl sent to the Femme Commander at the same time he gave directions to Hardstrike and Steelbrow to bring them against a larger group of Decepticons simultaneously.

In less than an astrosecond, Elita One had Moonracer and Arcee vectored in on the indicated targets.

Prowl was just about to issue another command when the specially encrypted command-channel override crackled to life, cutting him off as it transmitted on all command channels.

/Prime!/ Blaster's 'voice' overrode all other conversation. /Incoming message from Kaon. It's Megatron. He demands to speak to you./

Prowl felt sudden irritation surge through his wires. Blaster was a professional and should be beyond making such an immature mistake, but Optimus answered before Prowl could vent his ire. /Patch him through./

The delay was enough for Prowl to reinforce his control and excise the heat he felt from his voice as he spoke without waiting to consider the potential personal consequences as he piggybacked his own order on the Prime's. /Do not use the emergency override channel for anything other than actual emergencies!/

/Excuse me?/ Blaster began, offense clear in his digital voice. /Just who do you…/

/Quite correct./ Optimus cut the communications officer off. /Blaster, switch to secondary command channel./

The entire conversation had only taken thirty seconds. Prowl's effort in training Iacon's response teams was paying off in rare Praxian high grade in that their combat efforts did not suffer for the lapse.

Shrugging off the annoyance, feeling the sharpness of his frustration dull as no disastrous results manifested, Prowl dismissed the interruption and continued to focus on the battle. And that relative bliss lasted for roughly ten more breems.

Then Prowl received a ping on his personal communication system. It was the Prime. Expecting a word of reproof for his earlier brashness, Prowl accessed the ping without detracting from his focus on battlefield operations. A dressing down required no more focus than to know when to utter the appropriate "yes sir."

/Stand down from active combat. Assume defensive positions./ Optimus' orders were as blunt as they were unexpected.

Prowl's vents hitched audibly, snapping his attention fully to the conversation. /Prime?/

/You heard me Prowl. Do it now./ Then the Prime sent his authentication codes.

/This battle is almost won./ Prowl's disbelief in the order rang undisguised in his digital voice. /Why…?/

The Prime's reply was calm and dignified. /Megatron offers a cease fire as a first step toward a truce./

Prowl's systems stuttered, earning him a curious glance form the mechs gathered around him. /Less than a joor after initiating the battle? Prime this must be a trick…/

/It is a chance we would be foolish not a take./ Optimus cut him off with a flicker of controlled irritation.

Prowl realized he was on dangerous ground, but he could not leave it at that. /Megatron would not request a ceasefire unless he was a disadvantage without it. We cannot…/

A low growl echoed through the comm. line, cutting Prowl off. /Our goals have never been to completely obliterate our enemies, Prowl. It is to defeat them to the point that the fighting stops. We cannot pass up this opportunity./

Prowl knew then that further argument was useless, but he could see victory in this battle, hanging just out of reach. And, if Megatron was that desperate, perhaps even an end to the war could be in view. /Prime…/

/You heard me./ Optimus cut him off sharply. /I will issue the general orders and you will comply./

Prowl cringed visibly, earning him more confused – and now concerned glances – from the other mechs at the terminal. He shuttered his optics as his revamped ethical programming kicked in completely because, as much as he disagreed with the decision, it was a legal order.

Gritting his denta, Prowl bowed to the Prime's dictate. /As you command. I maintain my objections./

/Understood./ The heat was gone from the Prime's digital voice, replaced by a hint of sadness. Then the Prime switched to the override channel Blaster had used earlier. /Autobots, stand down. Assume defensive positions./

Prowl hesitated a sparkbeat, but his coding and sense of duty pushed him onward. He wanted to put all his resistance, his dislike for the order into his own digital voice, but Prowl was a professional. He would not risk demeaning the Prime. Thus, when he began issuing orders, his voice was cool, collected and calm even if all he felt was dread and frustration.

Around him, Prowl could hear, see and almost feel his subordinates' dismay as a mirror of his own. However, despite Prowl's worse fears, as soon as the Autobots withdrew to a defensive position, the Decepticons also held their fire.

/The Decepticons will be allowed to withdraw to their extraction vessels, then all teams will return to base./ Optimus ordered over the override frequencies again, his digital voice broking no argument.

Prowl had nothing else to add to that, so he remained silent. Releasing a vent the former Decepticon shuttered his optics briefly, but he knew it was a waste of time and energy to continue fretting about something he could not change.

"What the slag?" Smokescreen muttered, staring blankly at the screen in front of him.

No one else said anything, though it was clear they all felt the same way. Then Prowl realized that while he might not be able to change what just happened, he did have a duty to fulfill. Frowning, he stood, disconnecting himself from the terminal and looking at his Second in Command. "Smokescreen, monitor their retreat. You have command. I have some questions to ask."

"Yes, sir." There might have been relief in Smokescreen's voice, but Prowl was already walking to the door and did not see his expression.

… … …

Prowl ignored the curious looks from the various mechs manning the Command Center as he walked in. A quick glance showed that Optimus was not in the Command Center. Clearing his vents, Prowl headed directly to the Prime's office and was admitted quickly.

Optimus looked at him from across his desk and frowned. "Why are you not overseeing tactical operations?"

Prowl's reply was cool, though almost angry. "An offensive tactician is not needed to oversee a defensive holding action. Smokescreen can handle that oversight."

Optimus said nothing for a long handful of seconds, silently considering Prowl. Then he folded his hands on his desk, keeping optic contact with the unusually belligerent tactician. "You disapprove of my decision to agree to a cease fire."

"It was a mistake." Prowl said simply, though his processor – which had continued to percolate on the matter – provided plenty of reasons why that was the case.

As the pressure in his processor grew, Prowl continued speaking, spitting out those reasons – from it being a possible trap, to a way for Megatron to extend the war and so on – in a rapid-fire series of clipped words. He vented is irritation and disappointment with such a glitch-processored plan and did so in less than flattering vocabulary though he never raised his voice or tone. Optimus listened silently until Prowl finally ran out of words.

Prowl's vents were heaving quietly by the time he was done, but Optimus' expression was unchanged as he continued to meet Prowl's indignant look with his own calm. "I understand your sentiments, Prowl." The Prime rumbled at last. "And I admit I may have made a mistake."

Prowl blinked at the ready admission, though he stayed stubbornly silent, even if he was beginning to question the wisdom of his rash words. He wanted to demand to know why Optimus would do something he knew was a mistake, but he could think of no way to phrase such a question that would not be presumptive and inappropriate. Or at least not more presumptive and inappropriate than he had already been. He felt a sharp pang stab into his processor at the conflict, especially as he realized how far over the line of propriety he had already stepped.

"It was an opportunity I needed to take." Optimus continued gently, never rebuking Prowl's borderline insubordination and blunt disrespect. "I fully anticipate it will not last long, but it will give us a chance to secure the AllSpark."

Air gusted through Prowl's vents at that reminder and he could think of no rebuttal. As much as he hated to admit it, the Prime was right. A cease-fire would give them an opportunity to properly safeguard the AllSpark. And regroup. Even if it allowed the Decepticons the same opportunity, they had already had a couple of close calls with loosing the AllSpark. While everything Prowl had said, every objection he had raised, had been justifiable and right, the Prime had acted as he saw fit for the benefit of the larger picture.

Prowl's processor ached at the continuing conflict between his calculations, the Prime's compassionate steadiness and the nagging of his ethical programs for loosing his temper with the Prime.

After the silence stretched for a nearly two minutes Optimus opened one palm toward Prowl. "Have you nothing more to say, Prowl?"

Though it was an opportunity to voice further objections, to Prowl it felt like a verbal slap. Tucking his wings and giving the Prime a stiff, formal half-bow, Prowl fell back on well-ingrained habit as a form of sanctuary. "I stand corrected, Prime. I should not have spoken so heatedly."

"I would have expected nothing less." Optimus stood slowly and walked around his desk. Prowl braced though logic told him the Prime was not going to strike him. Indeed, a gentle hand landed on his shoulder as the Prime continued. "You would not be fulfilling your role as Tactical Commander if you had not said anything."

"My delivery could have been better." Prowl murmured, still stiff, not making optic contact. "I should not have lost my temper."

Optimus chuckled, causing Prowl to blink up at him. "I have seen you loose your temper, Prowl. That was not you loosing your temper."

Realizing that the Prime really was not angry with him, Prowl unbent enough to give his leader a tiny, almost non-existent, self-depreciating smile of his own.

With another squeeze of black shoulder platting, Optimus released him and stepped back. "Now, I fear it is time to face the rest of the command staff. I doubt you are the only one with objections."

Prowl followed Optimus to the briefing room, where the Prime was proven right. Confusion dominated the atmosphere, though frustration and even anger were expressed as well. No one was particularly pleased. Objections were raised from every quarter; most of which Prowl had already aired. Through it all, Prowl said nothing, knowing that adding his own input would serve nothing at this stage. Instead, he turned his attention to studying the other commanders.

Optimus listened to all of them with the same patience he had shown Prowl.

Ironhide was furious and verbally so.

Jazz was quietly irritated.

Red Alert was anxious and confused.

Ratchet was narrow opticed and brooding.

Elita One was outwardly calm but seemed torn between supporting her Sparkmate out of duty and questioning his sanity.

Ultra Magnus… he was frowning thoughtfully but otherwise reserved. In fact, Prowl noted, the majority of his concerns and objections had been administrative in nature, though he had also voiced a few well thought out tactical questions.

Prowl was struck again by the realization that the Prime had not consulted Ultra Magnus – his own Executive Officer – before making this deal. Ironhide had been in the field and would not have been an option. Jazz had been in the field as well, judging by the scuffs on his armor, and would have also been otherwise engaged. But Ultra Magnus had been in the Command Center. While Optimus was not obligated to run his decisions by anyone, he had frequently done so for much more trivial issues. Prowl was reminded again of his previous musing about Ultra Magnus and determined in that moment that he would follow up on them.

As expected, when the meeting was over nothing had changed; they still had a cease-fire with the Decepticons.

"And we will honor it so long as they do." Optimus said firmly, meeting the optic of every mech and femme at the table with subdued fierceness. No one questioned him any further.

They were dismissed shortly after that. Prowl rose when the others did and filed out of the briefing room, though he sent Jazz a private ping. In response, Jazz – who had been one of the first to leave – paused and stepped to the side, allowing everyone else to walk past him until he was able to fall into step beside Prowl.

"What's up, Prowler?" Though the words were typically jaunty, the air about the silver mech was much more sober.

Prowl flicked a doorwing at the nickname but would not be distracted from his purpose. He spoke quietly. "Is there a reason the Prime does not consult with his own Executive Officer about important military decisions?"

Jazz blinked, his helm jerking back as if he had been expecting a different question. "Why would he? As solid as Ultra Magnus is in the field, he ain't military trained."

It was Prowl's turn to blink in surprise, then he nodded in understanding, speaking quietly. "I see."

Jazz continued quickly, "Don't get me wrong tho. He's learned a lot since tha war started. But he's got a good helm on his frame and knows when somethin' is beyond his experience level. And he don't get his olfactory nodes outta whack when someone else steps up… mosta tha time."

Prowl nodded again, considering Jazz's reply and the manner in which it was delivered. It was clear that Jazz knew Ultra Magnus was not his equal in advising the Prime, yet it was equally evident that the saboteur held a degree of genuine respect for the Commander. It was respect that was more than just the honor due Ultra Magnus' rank and social position.

As he bid Jazz farewell to return to the tactical division, Prowl pinged Iacon's central computer network and requested to be placed on the Commander's schedule for a private, priority-two meeting. Within astroseconds, he was notified via a return ping that, pending the Commander's approval, he was scheduled for early the next decavorn unless he wished to request an earlier meeting. Briefly consulting his own schedule, Prowl decided four orns was soon enough. He acknowledged the appointment and added it to his own calendar.

By the time that brief consultation was over, he was back at his own department. Though he should have expected it, Prowl was momentarily taken aback as he was met with a bombardment of questions. It was a breakdown of discipline that irked him, though in light of his own loss of composure with the Prime over the matter, he could not become overly upset.

Venting a sigh of air, Prowl held up his hands for silence and when he finally had it, he looked around at all the mechs in the room. "Yes, the Prime has agreed to a cease fire with Megatron and a truce – however temporary it may be – is currently under negotiation."

He gave them a couple of seconds to process that information and was gratified that each and every one of them looked just as troubled as he was. That concern would serve to keep them vigilant. He looked and Smokescreen and Groove.

"We will be using this opportunity to secure the AllSpark. Smokescreen; you will make that your first priority. Fusion, you will split your duties between offensive planning and providing offensive insight into plans for the AllSpark's protection." Prowl snaked his gaze over the others. "Everyone else; return to your regular duties. Just because there may be a truce does not mean we will let down our guard."

… … …

Two orns passed, but the Decepticons did not violate the cease-fire, despite all expectations. Thus Prowl was present, along with ultra Magnus, Jazz and Ironhide when the Prime formalized the truce. He stood along the side wall of the Command Center, out of the communication terminal's line of sight. Jazz and Ironhide stood with him, while Ultra Magnus stood behind the Prime.

Prowl stood with his arms crossed, his doorwings stiff, and could feel the tension in the two mechs near him. Ironhide was a dark, brooding presence that almost reeked of violent intent while Jazz was a much more dangerous swirling ball of angst contained in a perfectly statuesque frame. Even knowing he was not alone in his opinion of the proceedings, Prowl's denta were grinding by the time the Prime signed off the connection with Megatron.

Once the Decepticon leader disappeared Jazz spoke, his words bit off and clipped. "Well. Guess it's done then."

"For now." Ironhide glared at Jazz and Prowl as if this was their fault. "It'll be up to you two to keep them from taking us by surprise."

There was a growled threat in those words, though Prowl did not think it was necessarily directed at them. Ironhide was just as unhappy as they were.

"Don't worry, 'Hide." Jazz echoed the black mech's growl. "We are gonna keep a close, a very close optic on what Megs is doin'."

"Indeed." Very little of Prowl's own irritation managed to seep into his voice. "We will be ready for when he decides this truce is no longer convenient for him."

"Nevertheless, we will not be the ones to violate the terms of this truce." Optimus cut in, pinning Ironhide, Jazz and then Prowl with a hard look. "You three are the leaders of your departments and you have witnessed the terms. You will be responsible for ensuring those under your command do not violate those terms."

The three of them were silent for a long moment as Jazz and Ironhide exchanged a look. Prowl simply regarded his Prime thoughtfully. He had already made his objections, continuing to make them was pointless at this time. Even so… "You are aware of my objections, Prime. But the tactical department will comply with your orders."

Ironhide was still visibly unhappy as he nodded with reluctance. "Understood, Prime."

Jazz jerked a digit toward Prowl. "What Prowl said."

"Then I will not keep you from your duties." Came the Prime's almost sad, dismissal.

Obediently, Ironhide, Jazz and Prowl turned to leave. There was nothing more to say, after all. Prowl was almost to the door when Ultra Magnus called his designation.

Prowl halted, turning back and inclining his frame a fraction toward the commander respectfully. He was still painfully and excessively formal toward the Prime's Second in Command. "Yes, Commander?"

Ultra Magnus stepped closer, then continued out of the Command Center and into the hallway, walking at a pace that easily allowed Prowl to fall into step. "I noticed that you are on my schedule for a private, priority-two meeting in two orns."

Doorwings flicking, Prowl nodded. "Yes, sir."

Ultra Magnus frowned, glancing at him. "You requested the meeting immediately following Prime's announcement of the ceasefire with Megatron."

A pause indicated Ultra Magnus was expecting a response, so Prowl nodded again. "Yes, sir."

The Commander's massive engine revved and his voice was borderline threatening. "I hope you were not planning to undermine the Prime's efforts to me."

Prowl stiffened, wondering where the sudden accusation came from, reminding himself not to be insulted by the Commander's suspicion, that it would not benefit anything to take offense. His answer was just as stiff as his doorwings. "Commander, as I noted earlier, I have already made my objections clear to the Prime. It is neither my place nor my duty to…"

Field flickering, Ultra Magnus abruptly waved Prowl to silence, his expression somewhat chagrined. "My apologies, Prowl. I had no reason to jump to such a conclusion."

Prowl was immediately seized with the conflicting, automatic reactions of either denying the need for a senior officer to apologize while explaining that he understood the Commander's assumption or voicing his complaints at the continued distrust. But the words caught in his vocalizer. He was, undeniably, tired of mechs like Ultra Magnus jumping to conclusions based on his history but the conflict occurred because he did understand. And, in some ways, that irritated him too, even though it was illogical to be irritated by understanding another mech's perspective. The ache behind Prowl's optics grew a touch sharper as he struggled to keep focused on the actual conversation he was having.

Ultra Magnus was considering him, easily seeing that there was something Prowl was keeping himself from saying. He released a sigh of air and looked away, back the direction they were walking. "You once told me open communication between us was more important than anything one of us might say to the other on a personal level."

Prowl glanced at Ultra Magnus carefully and cleared his vents. "It is not so much something personal I would tell you, sir. Rather…" He saw Ultra Magnus' optics narrow and he looked away, speeding up the delivery of his words. "Smokescreen, Jazz and even Bluestreak have lately been… encouraging me to 'move beyond' the stigma of my past factional association. However, I know it is potentially foolish to do so while others maintain their own reservations."

"What does that have to do with anything?" Ultra Magnus asked, just staring at him.

Prowl took in a deep vent of air, registering that he was anxious. A second later he identified why. Explaining further would make him vulnerable, emotionally vulnerable. But the look in Ultra Magnus' optics made it clear that the Commander would not let this go.

"It has nothing to do with the reason I have requested a private meeting with you." Prowl hedged.

Frowning Ultra Magnus said nothing, though Prowl could feel the larger mech's field flicker with irritation. He continued speaking, explaining what the Commander wanted to know, doorwings dipping respectfully. "You made an accusation based on assumptions from my former faction. You apologized. Accepting that apology was more warranted than denying the need for such an apology… or expressing my initial shock and irritation at the accusation itself."

Just saying the words out loud made the whole thing seem rather ludicrous to Prowl and it took a good dose of self-control not to wince in expectation of the scorn he half-expected from the Commander. For his part, Ultra Magnus's optics widened.

"Oh, I see…" Ultra Magnus murmured, studying prowl. Then, inexorably he relaxed as if realizing how hard that had been for the tactician. Ultra Magnus then stunned Prowl further by dipping his own helm respectfully. "Thank you for explaining, Prowl."

Prowl blinked in surprise and could not muster a reply before Ultra Magnus continued in a more business-like tone, a tone that was – perhaps – also a bit more humble. "What were you wishing to speak to me about?"

Prowl glanced around, but noted there was no one else within audio range. Nevertheless, he lowered his volume. "Is this the place you wish to speak of the matter sir? I requested a private meeting because I fear it may be a… sensitive subject matter."

Ultra Magnus expression shifted so that it was unreadable to Prowl. "You worry about… upsetting me?"

Prowl dipped his doorwings respectfully, taking refuge in formality. "Partially sir." A cocked optic ridge was an order to continue so Prowl proceeded tentatively. "I also wish to preserve the public integrity of the Commander's office and position."

Ultra Magnus blinked, his helm jerking back a fraction. Then he blinked a couple of times in rapid succession as he tried to interpret Prowl's words. "You… do not wish to embarrass me?"

Prowl felt his frame heat and lifted his chin deliberately. "In a manner of speaking, sir."

Engine revving, Ultra Magnus shook his helm. "For Primus sake, Prowl. If you want to tell me something, just tell me. In plain Cybertronian."

Prowl's frame suffused with heat as he recognized the rebuke. "Yes, sir."

They walked a few steps in an uncomfortable silence before Ultra Magnus broke it. "Well?"

Prowl glanced up at him then lowered his gaze, taking a deep vent. "It has come to my attention that… there are certain topics for which the Prime routinely seeks other council than that of his Executive Officer. It is my intention to offer myself as a resource to the Second in Command in order to… make his counsel in those areas more valuable to the Prime."

Prowl fell silent, realizing his vents were cycling harshly. The longer Ultra Magnus said nothing, the more nervous he became. He really did not know the Commander and did not know how he would respond if the offer hurt his pride.

Finally Ultra Magnus' engine revved. "Is it so obvious I hold my position merely in an administrative sense?"

There were definitely undercurrents of injured pride in those words and a hint of dismay. Prowl answered stiffly. "I am a tactician sir; trained to take in large amounts of disparate data and compile a tactical picture out of that data. I cannot say how obvious the situation is to others."

Ultra Magnus was silent for another long handful of minutes as he contemplated this then he nodded slowly, reluctantly. "I see."

Prowl could not decipher what the Second in Command was thinking, especially when the larger mech did not continue and would not meet his optics. As the uncomfortable silence continued to drag, Prowl cleared his vents, keeping his tone appropriately humble. "I did not mean to offend, Commander…"

He snapped his vocalizer off as the Commander waved him to silence and his doorwings gave an involuntary flick before he could catch them. The movement caught Ultra Magnus' attention however, and he stopped walking, glancing at Prowl. Prowl halted when the Commander did and was careful not to move under the scrutiny and finally Ultra Magnus nodded.

"I am not offended." Ultra Magnus said at last, making a self-dismissive sound, "It is the truth. It would be unfair to be offended when someone else merely makes note of it."

Prowl released a vent. "Very generous of you sir."

Ultra Magnus looked at him sharply and Prowl quickly replayed his words to try and identify what he had said that was wrong.

"I am not a Decepticon, Prowl." Ultra Magnus spoke quietly, sounding as if he was either disconcerted or in pain.

Now mentally flailing, trying to figure out how Ultra Magnus had taken his words to be intended as an accusation, Prowl's internal temperature shot upward. "I… I never indicated that I thought you were, sir…"

A cocked optic ridge silenced him again and Prowl realized he was only digging his own smelting pit. He looked down. And was startled when a gentle hand landed on his shoulder. His systems froze as warm air from the Commander's vents washed against his frame.

"Easy, Prowl. I… I have never seen you this flustered." Ultra Magnus paused and Prowl sensed he was struggling for what to say. Then the larger mech gave a soft snort. "I know I have been harsh with you in the past. I think that experience still colors our interactions with each other. Or at least it colors your interactions with me. Am I right?"

Prowl felt trapped. "Sir… I…" He released a vent of air, his programming kicking in and forcing the blunt truth to the tip of his vocalizer. "I'm afraid so, sir."

Ultra Magnus's optic ridge cocked again, though perhaps with a bit of humor this time. Nevertheless, he nodded. "I only ask for respect, Prowl. Not to have those under my command tremble in fear."

Prowl lifted his gaze to meet Ultra Magnus' for a brief moment and then lowered his optics respectfully. "You have always had my respect, Commander."

That quiet admission was met with another stretch of thoughtful silence as Ultra Magnus nodded acceptance and understanding. Then the Commander looked at Prowl again, speaking hesitantly. "So, you are offering to… help?"

"Yes, sir." Prowl answered just as hesitantly.

Ultra Magnus turned fully toward him and considered Prowl carefully with piercing optics. Prowl had no idea what the Commander was looking for and resolved to just stand there at respectful attention until his leader had found what ever it was. Finally Ultra Magnus gave a decisive nod.

"I hear you are a good teacher. I am willing to give it a… trial run. Say in two orns at our scheduled meeting?" Ultra Magnus' tone and demeanor were perfectly professional.

Doorwings sagging with relief – relief at getting the chance to help the Commander as well as relief that his petition had been correctly received – Prowl returned the nod, once more taking refuge in professionalism just as much as the Commander had. "Yes, sir. I will be there, sir."

... … …

Ultra Magnus watched Prowl walk away, striding stiffly down the corridor with his doorwings splayed above him in what the Commander knew to be an assertive yet respectful flare. As he watched the tactician turn a corner, Ultra Magnus realized he did not really know Prowl. In the past he had made some major assumptions about him, had treated him very harshly, had even been unacceptably cruel to him.

But each time something like that had happened, Prowl had taken the abuse and continued to treat him respectfully. The former Decepticon had even helped repair damage after being nearly killed by Ultra Magnus' assault. Guilt had twisted his spark when Prowl had gently welded his armor. That memory was what had allowed him to trust Prowl enough to answer his call for help in Simfur.

And then Prowl had offered to take his place, to sacrifice his own life for his. True, he had stipulated the Prime only trade him to Megatron if he could arrange for the safety of the entire team, but… he had still made the offer.

And still Ultra Magnus did not know much about Prowl or his character. Or did he?

Ultra Magnus frowned thoughtfully as he turned away and continued walking toward his own office. "Logical" though it might have been, it took a certain type of mech to volunteer to take another's place as a Decepticon's captive, whatever the terms might have been. It took a certain type of mech to take the accumulated abuse and stay as unaffected by it in all observable ways as Prowl had.

"Prowl has a deeply ingrained and profound respect for authority and those in authority. It is in his nature to honor even the wishes of those whom he respects." It seemed like ages ago when Ratchet had told him that, had it really only been a handful of stellar cycles? Ratchet had been proven true then, how much more Prowl had proven those words accurate in the intervening time.

Entering his pass code into the door controls, Ultra Magnus waited till it confirmed his identity while tapping the wall impatiently. Considering all the interactions he and Prowl had had since the Praxian had come to Iacon, Ultra Magnus was finally reaching the inescapable conclusion that perhaps he had seen enough to believe what he saw of Prowl was, in fact, who the mech actually was rather than an elaborately constructed facade.

Then he remembered how Prowl's deference toward him, from the moment he had called the mech down for disrespect in his first staff meeting, had been tinged with fear. It was a fear that the Commander had proven justified, much to his shame. How much courage, or at the very least dedication to duty, had it taken Prowl to approach him just now?

Even as he picked up a datapad and began reviewing the report, Ultra Magnus felt his respect for the black and white tactician inch even further upwards. If Prowl really could help him become more useful to the Prime, the Autobot cause, he would embrace the opportunity the tactician was offering. Even if it stung his pride.

… … …

Optimus watched his top commanders file out of the Command Center. They were good mechs, all of them. That they disagreed so strongly with what he was doing yet continued to follow him was remarkable and not something the former archivist believed he was worthy of, even if the Prime he had become could more fully appreciate what that loyalty truly represented.

As Ultra Magnus glanced at him and then at Prowl several times before calling the Tactician's designation, Optimus' attention sharpened. Interactions between his Second in Command and the relatively new Tactical Commander were always strained and Ultra Magnus had proven, at least once, that Prowl's suddenly increased tension was quite justified. He briefly considered intervening, but a brush of the matrix against his spark kept him silent. Whatever was going on here, it was something the ancient primes felt was necessary and that his involvement would cause more problems.

The overly formal displays of submissive respect Prowl maintained every time he interacted with Ultra Magnus was almost painful to watch and Optimus knew it was not something that was being missed by the other mechs in the Command Center. Prowl spent so little time in here – or anywhere else on the base for that matter – for the average mech not in the medical ward or Tactical Command to really get to know him on a personal level. They were respectful and obedient, but there was a distance between them in which still hung the seeds of doubt.

Optimus understood that doubt. Prowl appeared, most of the time at least, as little more than cool, collected and distant. It might seem, at first glance, that there simply was nothing there to get to know on any kind of personal plane. Add to that the tactician's near revulsion of reaching out in a social sense. Yes, they trusted Prowl to do his job and to do it efficiently, but would they trust him in a situation where their life was at stake but not directly in a combat or tactical situation? Optimus did not know.

And yet, Optimus did know the truth. He had first felt through the matrix that there was more to Prowl than the image presented through the optics. That he had seen as much up close and personal, the first time he and Prowl had sparred. He had seen it multiple times since then because it was there to be seen if one simply looked. And he had seen it again when Prowl had so fiercely objected to the cease-fire.

Had the matrix not so strongly impressed on him the importance of agreeing to come to terms with Megatron, he would have been swayed by Prowl's arguments. In reality, it still surprised him that Prowl would continue with his staunch loyalty when his decisions were so clearly opposite what the tactician considered the best course of action.

Silently, Optimus returned to his own office. He needed to contact other base commanders and the various city councils to inform them about the terms of the truce.

"You are brooding again, love." Warmth washed through Optimus' spark even as he heard Elita One with his audios.

"Lying in wait for me?" He asked with a cocked optic ridge.

"You are not the only one who can feel the turbulence in your spark." She answered gently as she closed the distance to press a hand over his spark chamber. "I may not agree with this, but I trust you, just as those who follow your leadership trust you."

Optimus sighed, walking to his desk but not sitting at the chair; he just stared out the window that looked down at the Command Center, though he did not really seei anything. "I did not want to burden you when you so clearly did not agree with my decision. It would not be fair to you."

She walked to him and tugged on his arm. Obediently, Optimus turned to face her. She was smiling sadly up at him. "Optimus, my loyal, brilliant and selflessly foolish Orion. You and I are one. I may have to share your spark with the Matrix you carry, but you are still mine. I will not let the burdens of leadership take you away from me. I will fight for you, even if I have to beat you up to get you back."

Optimus blinked audibly, looking down at his sparkmate, at the fierce light in her optics and knew she was deadly serious. But there was also pain there. He had closed their spark bond so as not to let his own insecurities and fears touch her more than necessary, but now he saw that in doing so he had also hurt her by shutting her out so completely.

Armor clamping tighter to his frame, Optimus bowed his helm in humble apology. "As always, my brightly shining Ariel, you are right. I did not mean to hurt you."

She reached up again to touch the armor covering his spark chamber, reminding him silently that there was only one thing he could do to heal the breach he had caused. He nodded again in acquiescence and tenderly circled her with his arms in a gentle embrace even as he loosed his tight hold on their spark bond.


Alright, there were several things that contributed both the length between updates as well as how short this chapter was, some of those things more important than others. A note as to why this was so short: I really wanted the next scene to start off a chapter, not finish one and omitting it here let me get this one up just a little bit faster… for all that that was worth.

First: I have not found the notebook the outline was written in (A paper and pen type of notebook, not a computer) so I had to rewrite it. Or at least start rewriting it. In order to rewrite my outline I tried something new… creating a timeline first. This was necessary because over the course of writing this story I have started more subplot threads than were in the initial outline and keeping everything straight while writing a new outline was proving very… um… well, lets just say I am not Prowl. I couldn't keep everything straight in my head. The end result was very fascinating and I wish I had a way to share what it looks like, because it's kinda overwhelming. Anyway…

Second: I do not generally like to talk about my personal life in detail, because I know everyone has their own problems and I don't want to sound like I am complaining. However, that said, I was – in all but name – laid off two weeks before Christmas and had been unable to find another full-time job. (The clinic had a change in management and I was a little too outspoken so… yeah. They got rid of the Medical Director as well, because he was too conservative in his treatment plans. They didn't want to have to pay unemployment so they didn't actually let me go, they just cut my hours from 40 a week to 8 so I couldn't even get unemployment.) In order to make enough money to pay my bills (I do like having a roof over my head and food to eat, after all) I have been working three part time jobs, each one paying anywhere from $5-10 less an hour than I was making before, which means I have to work more hours and more days to make up the difference. However, I will be starting a full time job June 15th. So that is good news. However, school is about to get really rough because I will be changing my school status from part time to full time student (I need to get it DONE) this August.

Third: I have some other, long-term creative projects that are in the works. I would love to share more details about them but I can't yet. Propriety and all that. And it might be a while before I can talk about them. But as soon as I am able, I will bring everyone up to date on the other endeavor that has been competing with my fanfic time.

All of that said, I have no intentions of abandoning this story or anything like that, but I fear updates will become increasingly difficult and probably shorter than my previous word-count average (much like this one). The rest of the stories on my profile are definitely on hold for the time being (though nothing is completely abandoned yet). Unless inspiration hits so hard I can't ignore it, and that has happened before. I will still try to provide 'reward' one-shots for every 500 reviews, so there is that to look forward to at least.

As always I appreciate your patience and your encouragement. To be perfectly honest, if I didn't know that I had all of you guys out there waiting for an update, my external motivation for continuing this story would be much harder to come by. You guys are my inspiration.