YAY UPDATE!

My friends… I know it has been a very long time since my last update. I thank everyone for their patience and for your thoughts and prayers on behalf of my mother and my family. (Please see AN at end of chapter) In gratitude for you guys who have continued to stick with this story, here is an extra long chapter: 10,400+ words.


Prowl was in his office, merely a joor and a half after his rather confusing conversation with Ultra Magnus, going over performance reviews for the mechs in his department. That particular datapad was held in one hand while the other held that morning's intelligence report, freshly delivered for his perusal. His optics were flicking rapidly back and forth between the two as his advanced processors booted up to full speed, allowing him to actively process both reports simultaneously. Ultra Magnus would be there soon for his first session in advanced military tactics and Prowl did not want to fall behind in his other duties.

On the other side of his desk, Bluestreak continued to read and process his educational datapad. Though it appeared that Prowl was totally engrossed in his own work, the use of all of his rather impressive processing capacity allowed him to devote equal attention to the newly-upgraded mechling. At the moment, Bluestreak was murmuring quietly to himself. In the orns after Prowl had been promoted to department commander, Bluestreak had spent enough time in his office to know not to bother his guardian unless it was important.

Thus the two continued to work in comfortable – if not absolute – silence for another half-joor, then the entry request sounded.

Prowl took a moment to save the various and separate analysis spinning through his processor and center his focus on the present, physical reality before signaling the door to open. It would not do to appear distracted before the Autobot Second in Command. For his part, Bluestreak merely looked up at the door curiously.

Ultra Magnus stepped in, a frown darkening his faceplates as he leveled a glare at Prowl. It was confirmation enough that Prowl had done something to irritate the Commander.

"Wow." Bluestreak was staring with wide optics up at the larger Mech.

The innocently awed statement was enough to break Ultra Magnus' intent focus on Prowl and he looked at Bluestreak, a tiny smile playing over his lip plates. "Good orn, Bluestreak. Your new frame suits you."

Bluestreak smiled timidly. "T-thank you, Ultra Magnus sir. I like this frame a lot. I'm kinda starting to get used to being, you know, bigger and all, but its still weird. But school is soooo much easier now because my processor is bigger too and… wow. You are just as big as the Prime!"

Ultra Magnus chuckled softly. "The Prime and I are of the same frame class."

Bluestreak blinked his optic shutters rapidly as he accessed his memory banks. "Oh, right. I mean, I knew that. I just forgot, I'm sorry. I mean, you aren't as gianormous as you would have been to my sparkling frame, but you are still huge."

Seeing the somewhat uncomfortable shifting of Ultra Magnus' plating, Prowl interrupted gently. "Bluestreak."

"Oh, right. Sorry." Bluestreak's doorwings spread outward in sheepish apology. "Sometimes my vocalizer gets ahead of my processor."

Ultra Magnus forced a smile on his lip plates. "That's alright." He cleared his vents. "Now, if you don't mind, I have a meeting with your guardian."

Bluestreak's optics darted back and forth between the two mature adults and he nodded quickly. "Oh, of course. I'll, uh, I'll wait right outside the door. Prowl? Can I take one of the chairs with me?"

"Of course, Bluestreak. If you need anything…"

"I'll comm. you!" Bluestreak beamed. "That's right, I have an internal comm. now. I keep forgetting."

Still smiling, Bluestreak picked up his chair and walked out of the room. For long seconds after the door closed behind him both adults just stared at the closed hatch. Prowl used the upgraded sensors in his doorwings to ensure that Bluestreak did, in fact, take up a position just outside the door before he looked up at Ultra Magnus. The larger mech was still looking at the door, though his field was flickering with more apparent emotions. Remembering the open irritation Ultra Magnus had first exhibited, Prowl stood respectfully.

The movements served to draw Ultra Magnus' attention back to him and Prowl dipped his helm. "Sir."

Ultra Magnus' large engine growled. "He needs you right now Prowl. He is too fresh in an adult frame. Primus, Prowl… his vocalizer and processor are not completely synched yet. Of all mechs, that you would be so irresponsible as to not give him all of your attention in this critical time…

Prowl's one engine growled in response to the accusation and his doorwings flicked upward. "With all due respect, sir, you are the one who ordered him to leave this office."

"I don't dress down mechs in front of their departments, I sure as pit would not do so in front of their younglings." Ultra Magnus leaned forward.

Prowl's doorwing twitched and an optic ridge quirked upward a fraction. "Then be aware, sir; Bluestreak's doorwings are just as finely tuned as mine. He can hear every word we say right now."

That made Ultra Magnus blink and Prowl took advantage of the hesitation to press his own point. "Right now Bluestreak is continuing to study his current assignment. He is sitting exactly five meters to the right of that door, facing the main tactical station. His doorwings are swaying in time to the finger he is using to follow the main text. His engine is operating within approximately two degrees centigrade of his frame specifications and he is venting approximately 10 times a breem."

Ultra Magnus' lip plates opened, but no sound came out.

Prowl lifted his own doorwings in demonstration of how he knew these things so exactly with the metal wall separating him from his charge. "Furthermore, sir, I have a processor set up that allows for the active planning and execution of up to eight complex military actions simultaneously and that is the very reason we are meeting today. I am more than capable of reading a few reports and monitoring Bluestreak's wellbeing."

"There is more to caring for a recently upgraded youngling than merely monitoring their wellbeing, Prowl." Ultra Magnus had recovered his surprise at Prowl's strong defense of his actions and was practically thrumming with irritation. Belatedly, Prowl realized he probably should have just accepted whatever dressing down the Second in Command was planning to deliver.

"Yes, sir." Prowl answered, his impassive mask closing over him like a well-used alt-mode.

"They need interaction, physical touch, encouragement and actual attention." Ultra Magnus crossed his arms. "Tell me, are you able to deliver these things while you concentrate on work?"

Prowl's optics shuttered and un-shuttered rapidly at the question; he had expected a continuation of the verbal reprimand, not an attempt to better understand him. "To the best of my ability sir. I have, when I realized it was needed, set aside my tactical duties to see to Bluestreak's needs."

For a brief moment Prowl felt a surge of fear that he may not have been able to give Bluestreak the amount of support he young mechling actually needed. It was an old fear, one that had haunted him from the moment Bluestreak had made it clear he would accept no other guardian but the Decepticon who had saved his life in Praxus.

Ultra Magnus opened his mouth to deliver another rebuke when the door opened and Bluestreak stuck his helm inside. He looked up at Ultra Magnus, his doorwings trembling with poorly hidden anxiety.

"Ultra Magnus sir, I don't mean to interrupt, but Prowl isn't neglecting me in any way, at least I don't feel neglected. He answers my questions and teaches me things and he is very wise. I know he cares about me a great deal too, even if he doesn't show it openly. Prowl gives me enough room to be myself while still making sure I have everything I need and that I'm safe. Besides, I don't need to be coddled; I'm not a sparkling anymore. Please don't get mad at Prowl, Ultra Magnus sir. He just takes his duties very seriously and since he is a…a department commander now his duties are very important. And isn't that important? That he is a very good role model for a mechling like me? I used to study in here when I was still in my sparkling frame, so this office is very comfy to me…"

"Alright, alright." Ultra Magnus lifted a hand in a conciliatory manner, an amused smile tipping the corner of his lip plates. "You have made a good defense for your guardian."

Bluestreak's doorwings stilled their tremors and he perked up, optics brightening. "Really? Does that mean you aren't mad at him anymore? I don't want you to be mad at Prowl. He…"

"Bluestreak." Prowl interrupted the building ramble, glancing at Ultra Magnus to gauge the Second in Command's reaction. "Ultra Magnus has a duty and is well within his rights to address matters if he believes I have been neglectful in any duty. I appreciate your enthusiastic defense, but, as you have made your case, it is important to allow the Commander to render his judgment."

"Oh." Those elegant doorwings shifted outward and downward again and his vents hitched. "I… I'm sorry, Prowl. I didn't mean to…"

For the moment, Prowl forgot Ultra Magnus was present as he moved around his desk to stand in front of his young charge. He took Bluestreak's finely detailed shoulder guards in his hands and squeezed gently. Bluestreak's frame was warm.

"Bluestreak…" Prowl released a vent. "I was not rebuking you, Bluestreak. I merely meant to educate you. You have done nothing wrong."

"I'm not in trouble?" Bluestreak asked, looking up at him, optics hopeful.

Prowl shook his helm, though his expression became a hint wry. "When have you ever gotten in trouble for being enthusiastic?"

"I…" Bluestreak paused, his helm canting as he thought, then his doorwings shifted sheepishly. "Never."

"Indeed not." Prowl released Bluestreak's shoulders to shift his left hand to the joint where his neck cables intersected his chassis as he suspected Bluestreak might need the continued physical support. "Now, if you had the opportunity to do this again, what would you do differently?"

"Um…" Bluestreak looked down as he processed the question. "Oh. I would have requested entry rather than just barging in because interrupting is rude and… I would have tried not to ramble. Maybe I'd have rehearsed my words beforehand too."

"Very good Bluestreak." Prowl gave the younger mech's frame a final squeeze and seeing Bluestreak virtually breem at the compliment Prowl nodded, then stood aside, gesturing toward Ultra Magnus. "Do you have something you need to say to the Commander?

Bluestreak pressed his lip plates together, helm canting as he concentrated. Then he looked up at Ultra Magnus. "I'm sorry I was rude and just barged in, Commander Ultra Magnus, sir. I just heard you getting mad at Prowl and I acted before I could think about it much."

Ultra Magnus was just staring down at the both of them and it took several astroseconds for him to move at all. When he did it was to flex the armor along his back and shoulders. "Ah. Of course Bluestreak; it is all right. You are young and still learning. I'm sure Prowl appreciated your coming to his rescue."

Bluestreak frowned. "Of course he does. He said as much. Prowl doesn't say something that isn't true."

Prowl felt his spark tighten in his chassis at Bluestreaks confident assertion and the blind trust it indicated the youngling still had for him. For an astrosecond that lasted for far too long all Prowl could think about was what would happen when Bluestreak again asked him what his role in the destruction of Praxus was. He had to forcibly stop his tactical computer from latching on to the probability and calculating the odds of all possible outcomes of that conversation. It was an internal calculation he had already reviewed far too many times in the last seconds before recharge.

"Indeed." Ultra Magnus murmured, glancing at Prowl then nodding more firmly. "You are not in trouble with me, Bluestreak and, thanks to your efforts, neither is Prowl."

"Oh, good." Bluestreak's entire frame relaxed, sagging on its struts. Then he smiled brightly. "Thank you Ultra Magnus, sir!" Then he darted back outside the door, triggering it to slide shut again.

Blinking their optic shutters at the abrupt departure the two adult mechs found themselves alone once again. They looked at each other simultaneously; Prowl somewhat apprehensively and Ultra Magnus with a hint of genuine amusement. At seeing Prowl's carefully muted expression, Ultra Magnus chuckled.

"Relax Prowl." Ultra Magnus waved Prowl to return to his desk. "You handled that remarkably well."

"It would be counterproductive to become angry over an action that was intended in good faith, sir." Prowl murmured as he did as directed. "Bluestreak is young and has not, heretofore, behaved in any intentionally disagreeable manner. Therefore it was more prudent and beneficial to provide support and guide him toward improved behavior in the future."

Ultra Magnus slowly sat in the chair across from Prowl, his optic ridges furrowed. "I've seen plenty of caretakers who would not have handled that as well. Only you could make what you just did sound so cold and logical."

"Thank you, sir?" Prowl shifted uncomfortably, not sure whether he was asking a question or not.

What might have been a smirk flitted briefly across Ultra Magnus' faceplate before it was gone and the Commander gestured Prowl to continue. "Regardless. I am here to learn about tactics and battle management."

"Yes, sir." Prowl released a vent, grateful to be back in the element in which he was most comfortable. He pulled a small holoprojector out of his desk and set it on top. Selecting a program he had already written for this purpose, Prowl activated the projector. A scaled down version of a section of the Rust Plains outside of the Selenium Junction appeared and then symbols representing two different armies flared to life.

"You already understand the basic principles of warfare. What I want to go over first is understanding the best utilization of force when faced with an opponent holding the best defensible positions available to them." He indicated the purple icons. "In this scenario the Decepticons are holding this complex. The base is over an energon well and they have stripped the local area of other usable resources. The attackers, here," He pointed to the red symbols, "are faced with a supply shortage should this turn into a siege."

"And they are exposed on every front of attack, if I am reading this right." Ultra Magnus frowned, as he examined the projection.

"Yes, sir." Prowl affirmed.

"Is there a way for them to actually take the outpost?"

Yes sir." Prowl nodded. "The first thing we must do is ensure we have an accurate inventory of the resources at hand. Start there and…"

… … …

Prowl continued his tutoring sessions with Ultra Magnus over the next several orns and, just as Prowl would have expected, the Second in Command was a quick study. It was evident to Prowl that the larger mech would never become the same tactical genius that he was, but that was to be expected, thanks to Prowl's unique processor set up and programming. Nevertheless, Ultra Magnus showed he had a processor for tactics.

By the next staff meeting at the end of the decaorn, the improvement in Ultra Magnus' tactical thinking was evident to all as Prowl completed his portion of the staff meeting.

"We have narrowed the possible host territories for the AllSpark to seven and Special Operations will be finished scouting them within the next decaorn. Jazz has decided to take these scouting assignments himself due to the sensitivity of the subject mater, and is why he is not here this orn." Prowl announced as he concluded the tactical briefing. "I would like to reiterate that even though the Decepticons have not broken the truce as of yet, they do continue to reinforce the boarders of their territories."

"As are we." Ironhide grumbled.

"Indeed." Prowl nodded. "However, this does give us a possibility we have not had before…"

"Kaon." Ultra Magnus interrupted him, sitting straighter. He pointed to the tactical display floating above the briefing table. "It appears like they are massing their forces along the Tetrax and the Cebran corridors. If we could draw enough of their forces to Centari Pax, it would leave a corridor to siege Kaon here." He pointed.

There was a moment of stunned silence at the table and Prowl merely let his lip plates tip upward in a tiny smile.

"That would mean violating the truce." Optimus pointed out, his voice rumbling unhappily.

"The truce won't last, Prime. You know that." Ironhide growled, eyeing Ultra Magnus with a hint greater respect.

Prowl nodded. "Statistically, there is a 98.963 percent probability that the cease fire will be violated by the Decepticons. If so, it is 96.778 percent likely that it will at a time and in a manner that will have devastating repercussions to our forces. If we are the ones to determine when the truce is broken, we can ensure that it happens in a manner to our benefit." He cleared his vents. "I do not calculate that this treaty will last much longer past this stellar cycle, if that long."

"Megatron got to fire the first shot that started this war." Ultra Magnus growled. "We should not let him be the one to fire the first shot again."

There were murmurs of agreement from the other command staff, especially from the field commanders. Optimus Prime let them make their opinions heard then firmly shook his head. "No."

"Prime, the damage that could be done to…" Prowl began but was cut off by a warning growl of the Prime's massive engine.

"No." Optimus swept his gaze over his command staff. "I know it is unlikely that Megatron will keep the peace. But what if, against all odds, he does? Then it will be we who will be responsible for restarting the war. I will not allow that burden to fall on our shoulders. If there is any chance, we must take it."

"Sir, Megatron continues to mass troops, he is strengthening his position." Ultra Magnus protested.

"Intelligence reports indicate he is actually researching ways to poison energon wells; when production capacities are already being taxed." Prowl added his own protest. "That is not the action of someone who wants peace."

"Perhaps." Optimus allowed, but his optics became harder. "Do what you must to protect energon supplies within our control. Do your best to prepare for whatever Megatron might do next. But under no circumstances whatsoever are the Autobots going to fire the first shot. Is that understood?"

The response from the gathered mechs was slow in coming and equally begrudging. Ultra Magnus and Prowl were the last to concede.

"We have a chance at taking Kaon." Ultra Magnus said softly, looking at the projection of Cybertron rather than at his Prime. "We could end this war once and for all. This is a possibility that may never come again."

"You are the last mech I would expect to hear beating the drums of war." Optimus murmured equally as soft.

"I do not like this war any more than you, sir." Ultra Magnus looked at Optimus finally, his hand clenching into a fist. "But we both know this truce is only temporary. Yes, I agreed to support it at first but…" he glanced at Prowl, "I have since come to understand just how dangerous this truce might prove to be."

"I see." Optimus also glanced at Prowl before focusing squarely on his Second in Command. "Will you support my position on this?"

There was quiet warning in that question and Ultra Magnus' armor clamped tighter to his frame. Prowl's likewise did the same as he waited with stilled vents for the Commander's reply.

Ultra Magnus hesitated another moment then he nodded stiffly. "With protest. You are my Prime, I will follow your command."

Optimus Prime's return nod was dignified but not triumphant as he turned his attention to Prowl. "You also understood I intend to hold to the letter as well as the intent of the cease fire."

Prowl nodded stiffly, not quite meeting Optimus' optics. "It is my job as your Lead Tactician to propose ways to defeat the enemy. I have done so." His doorwings flicked a little, lowering into reluctant submission. "You have heard my recommendations, I will abide by your decision."

Optimus hesitated for a moment, the light in his optics dimming a little with sadness before he dismissed his officers. Prowl and Ultra Magnus shared an unspoken look as they rose from their seats.

"Prowl." Optimus spoke softly as the others were filing out of the briefing room. Prowl hesitated, looking back at his leader.

"Prime?" He asked softly.

"Have I lost your respect in this?" The Prime did a remarkable job of appearing unaffected, but the joors and joors Prowl had spent with the larger mech in the training room had taught him to read the Prime's subtle clues as to his real inner state. Prowl could tell that the answer was important to the Prime.

No, this was not so much the Prime speaking as it was his Circuit Su student.

Prowl hesitated in answering, allowing the last of the other command staff to exit the briefing room. Then he bowed his helm.

"I disagreed with this cease-fire from the beginning because we could have won the battle and perhaps the entire war in short order. My greatest desire, since I first joined the war effort – albeit as a Decepticon – was to end the war as quickly as possible. But it was that same desire that led me to join the Decepticons in the first place, a decision that went against my own ethical coding and so I understand the necessity of subjugating that single-minded desire to a greater moral cause." Prowl looked back up, meeting his leader's optics. "You are a mech of peace, Prime and a mech of unimpeachable ethics and moral strength. You have indicated that your decision was based on your duty to the AllSpark itself. I do not agree, but I will willingly follow your directives."

Optimus nodded in acceptance of Prowl's explanation, but was clearly not satisfied. "You did not answer my question."

The guarded sadness Prowl detected in the Prime's field pulled at his spark and Prowl let his doorwings dip a hint lower. "You gave your word when you signed the cease fire. As mistaken as I believe that decision to be, I cannot loose respect when you so firmly uphold your honor and your integrity." He gave the Prime a tiny, ironic smile. "I would not hesitate to take advantage of the tactical situation. But you have the moral strength to keep your word. Even with my own tinkering with my ethical programming, I do not trust it as much as I trust yours. That, sir, is why you are my Prime."

Prowl gave Optimus Prime a tiny, formal half-bow.

"You honor me." Optimus murmured, using the archaic words of a Circuit Su student receiving praise from his master. This was followed by a mirroring bow to Prowl's.

Prowl straightened and unbent enough to offer a very small smile and a more formal nod. "I speak the truth, Prime. By your leave?"

"Of course." Optimus dismissed, then he lifted a hand. "Wait; how is Bluestreak doing?"

Prowl's smile almost escaped his control. "Bluestreak is well, sir. He continues to integrate the new frame and processors efficiently. At his follow-up examination yesterday, Ratchet announced Bluestreak's frame and processor should be ready to attempt an interfacial synch in two more orns. Needless to say, Bluestreak is quite excited about the prospect."

"Of course." Optimus smiled indulgently. "Studies become so much easier when you can just download the information rather than read it."

"Yet most of us opt for the more inefficient method of reading most of the time." Prowl observed drily. "Including myself."

"Most illogical." Optimus offered, a tiny flicker of light in his optics.

Prowl felt a tiny stab of pain at what was suspiciously like a joke coming from the Prime. He shuttered his optics and did his best to ignore the discomfort. "Indeed."

Optimus chuckled softly then waved Prowl away. "Please tell Bluestreak I wish him the best."

"I will, Prime." Prowl offered another formal bow-like nod and left the briefing room.

He had barely reached the corridor outside the Command Center before his doorwings warned him of an impending confrontation. It was Ironhide, Steelbrow and the other field commanders.

"Well," Ironhide demanded, speaking for the entire group. "Did you get the Prime to reconsider not violating the cease fire?"

Prowl froze, his vents flaring as he looked more closely at Ironhide and the others. Letting his engine rev softly he straightened, his doorwings twitching upward minutely. "No. Nor did I particularly try to do so."

Their reaction was immediate and unanimous. Some merely hissed air through their vents while Ironhide and at least one other muttered profanity.

"I don't understand." Ironhide demanded, glaring at Prowl. "You know, probably better than any of us, how foolish this cease fire is. You have to make the Prime see reason."

Prowl lifted his chin. "The Prime is aware of my objections. But, now that the ceasefire is signed, it would be unethical to violate the treaty. Mistake or not, we follow Optimus Prime because he has the moral authority to make that decision." He let his gaze travel over all the field commanders. "However, it is now incumbent upon us to make sure that when the Decepticons do violate this ceasefire that we are ready. Understood?"

Only after he had spoken the words, did Prowl realize his mannerisms as well as the words themselves bordered on overstepping his miniscule authority off the field of battle. Regardless of what authority he might have on the battlefield, he knew very well that he had no right to address these mechs with such presumption. The way they were staring at him testified to the sudden juxtaposition of their official ranks.

As the silence stretched, Prowl's doorwings dipped lower and he averted his gaze. He opened his mouth to apologize for the presumption when Ironhide spoke first.

"Yeah. I guess you're right." He looked at the other field commanders and vented a sigh of air. "Our job is to follow orders, even if we don't agree with them." He looked at Prowl. "I think we would all agree that your assistance in making sure that our different units are as prepared as possible would be welcomed."

Prowl's optics widened as he took that in and then he glanced at the others as they verbalized their agreement. Was it possible that this little episode had actually earned him a little more respect as an individual rather than just as a tactical officer? That was definitely a request more than an order, even though they had the right to make such a request an official order.

"Of course, sir." Prowl nodded formally. "If you wish I can help devise a training schedule for each of your units?"

That was universally and enthusiastically approved and so Prowl returned to his own department with a tiny hint of added warmth around his spark, and a pit-load of more work to do. In the privacy of his office, Prowl allowed himself to smile just a little bit.

… … …

In the following orns Prowl's life fell into a new rhythm. Against all odds, the Decepticons continued to maintain the ceasefire except for minor altercations, usually between rival scouting teams. Hit and run harassments rather than true military engagements. Prowl continued tutoring Ultra Magnus as well as monitoring the training of the various field units and his Circuit Su training sessions with the Prime and the medics. In between all of this he had the privilege of watching and assisting Bluestreak adapt to his new frame and processor set up. It was contemplating this later – and surprisingly enjoyable task – that was occupying most of Prowl's attention one evening as he was waiting for Bluestreak to join him for evening energon.

As if thinking about the young mech had summoned him, Bluestreak requested entry to Prowl's office. Shutting off the terminal with unusual willingness, Prowl stood, even as he granted entry.

"Good evening Prowl." Bluestreak beamed at him, his doorwings twitching happily.

Prowl allowed a tiny smile, pleased to see that Bluestreak's emotional expression in his adult frame was just as free as it was supposed to be. It was a greater relief than he would have expected to realize that the young orphan had not acquired an emotional handicap similar to Prowl's own.

"Good evening, Bluestreak. How was your orn?" Prowl moved around his desk and greeted Bluestreak with a warm brush of his field against the younger mech's.

The question was enough to set the enthusiastic mechling to reciting every significant event of his day. First his basic sniper training – which Prowl had arranged with Moonracer – all the way through the joors he had spent with Bumblebee under Chromia's supervision. Prowl listened silently, encouraging additional elaboration when necessary, as Bluestreak regaled him. The happy soliloquy continued through their meal and only tapered off when they reached the communal wash racks.

The sudden silence caught Prowls attention and he turned to look at the young mechling. "Is there a problem, Bluestreak?"

"Wha…? No. Not really a problem." Bluestreak hurried into the wash racks and went straight to a wash stall.

Prowl followed him, foregoing his own wash for the moment. "What is on your mind, Bluestreak?"

Bluestreak triggered the solvent spray and ducked under it. "Nothing bad Prowl. I was just thinking. But, I know you're busy and so it isn't that important. Not really. I mean, Chromia or even Ratchet could… but I don't really want them. I mean, it… that is, I…Uh…" His armor sagged on its mountings and he released a sigh of air.

Prowl released a vent of air and stepped into the stream of lukewarm solvent, putting a hand on Bluestreak's shoulder guard. "Bluestreak," The youngling looked at him sheepishly and Prowl continued. "I am your guardian. You need not be embarrassed to tell or ask anything of me."

"I know that, it's just… I…" Bluestreak pressed his lip plates together and then whispered the words so quickly and lowly that Prowl almost missed them. "I've never done a sync with any one before and I really want to learn how but Chromia warned me that I need firewalls first or I might get a virus and I still only have a youngling's firewalls and I don't know how to build them and I trust you not to hurt me so I was, I was wondering if… if…"

"You were wondering if I would help you build your firewalls." Prowl concluded softly. "Of course I will, Bluestreak." He hesitated, remembering the oath he had given Ratchet, what now seemed decavorns ago, that he would not initiate an interface with Bluestreak until he was in his adult frame and requested it, then he plunged ahead. "That will require that we synch processors."

Bluestreak's doorwings twitched upward again and his optics brightened. "Really? I mean, I guess that makes sense, that way you can see if I'm doing it right an all, but… you don't mind?"

Prowl let his lip plate twitch upward. "Interfacial syncs are a part of our kind's existence, Bluestreak, I would be honored to help you learn to defend your mind."

Bluestreak smiled widely then, almost bouncing on his pedes, then he impulsively leaned forward and put his arms around Prowl's shoulders. Prowl stiffened minutely, but did not pull away; this was Bluestreak, after all. Nevertheless, Bluestreak pulled back quickly, though his optics still sparkled with happy anticipation.

"I know you can't show your emotions outwardly, I remember feeling them the last time you synched with me and I want to feel them again." Bluestreak smiled at him even as he continued washing his armor with new purpose.

Prowl did not immediately know how to respond to that so he nodded. "Thank you for your understanding, Bluestreak."

He then moved to the next wash stall and began his own washing procedures. Even though he got a head start, Prowl was finished at least a breem before Bluestreak was.

"I'm just not used to this frame yet," Bluestreak mumbled as he stepped out of the hot-air blowers. "There is just so much more of me than there used to be."

Prowl's vents hitched as he choked back a chuckle and he briefly wondered if he would have been anything like Bluestreak had he upgraded among family members rather than as part of an Enforcer Cadet cadre. Then he pushed that thought away as useless speculation that would only distract him from what he needed to do.

They went back to their shared quarters and Prowl explained what they were about to do and how they would do so. They each took a seat – Prowl in his chair and Bluestreak in one that Jazz had procured for him shortly after his upgrade – and faced each other squarely.

"Remember, let your mind settle into the connection before we go any further. I will talk you through each step." Prowl instructed calmly.

Bluestreak nodded once, but it was jerky and his doorwings were flicking wildly. "Alright."

Prowl hesitated, his hand resting over the armor covering his port. "You trusted me to do this before, when you had no firewalls at all. This time the connection will be completely equal. I will not hurt you."

"I know, it's just… " Bluestreak glanced at him and shook his head. "I can do this. I can."

"Here." Prowl uncovered his data port. "You make the first connection and then, once you are settled I will complete the sync."

Bluestreak nodded again and then almost clumsily plugged his cord into Prowl's port. Prowl watched Bluestreak's eyes widen as he felt the automatic synchronization take effect and then the youngling's lip plates fell open as he ran headlong into Prowl's impressive firewalls.

"Oh, my wow! Those are your firewalls? I can only imagine how much processing power it must take to keep those things up; it's like solid duranium enforced cybertronium armor. Amazing!" Bluestreak's eyes brightened. "Are you going to teach me how to make firewalls like that?"

"I will teach you how to make the type of firewalls you need at this stage in your life. When it is time, I will help you reinforce them as necessary." Prowl let himself smile a little for the young mech's benefit. "However, I believe Ratchet would have my helm on a platter if I helped you get a firewall that could keep him out right now."

Bluestreak giggled and Prowl allowed a small chuckle as Bluestreak continued to poke around the strong and steady firewall. His initial fear faded quickly as he gained confidence moving around the public portion of Prowl's processor.

After about a breem, Prowl cocked an optic ridge. "Are you ready to continue?"

"What? Oh, of course. Um… here." A second later, Bluestreak uncovered his own dataport.

With calm, steady movements, Prowl plugged his own cord into Bluestreak's port. Prepared for the mechling's comparatively weak firewalls, Prowl carefully controlled the flow of data and kept from pressing against the more fragile defenses.

Bluestreak's vents hitched at first and then he smiled widely. "I can feel you! But, it doesn't hurt this time. That is so awesome!" His face went blank and Prowl could feel his horror. "Did, did it hurt you when I was synced with you, because I remember…"

"The discomfort was negligible." Prowl reassured him quickly. "You are not the first mech to do a one-way interface with me and my firewalls protected me from any true discomfort. Do not worry."

"Oh." Bluestreak acknowledged absently as he figuratively peered around his guardian's processor.

"Now, before we continue, it is important that you never disconnect from a synch without first withdrawing from the other mech's processor." Prowl let the intensity of his gaze stress the importance of that instruction. "That means you must be outside the boundaries if their firewalls when you disconnect, like we are now."

Prowl demonstrated as he pulled his own processor away from the shared processing space they were in. Then he sank back into the sync and continued his instruction. "The further you are inside another mech's processor when your cable is disconnected, the more fragmented your processor will be."

Bluestreak nodded rapidly, his optics wide. "Don't disconnect without pulling out. Got it."

Despite the awkwardness of how he had expressed the concept, Prowl knew Bluestreak understood. He nodded and then slowly lowered his own outer defenses until his firewalls matched Bluestreak's in strength and permeability.

"Before you can learn to build your own firewalls, you must understand how they work." Prowl told his young charge.

The next two joors was spent studying Bluestreak's existing firewalls and how the coding was integrated into his processor. He coached Bluestreak in experimenting with different code strings and taught him how to run such simulations in a buffered database that would not affect his actual firewalls until he was ready to implement the changes. For comparison, they also examined the base coding for Prowl's standard enforcer firewall.

They were just starting the true modifications to Bluestreak's firewalls when the young mech had an almost wistful passing thought. Because Bluestreak's processor was completely unprotected and with how deep they were in the other's mind for this task, Prowl could not help but pick up on the young mech's stray reflection.

"I wonder what this would have been like if my creators were the ones teaching me rather than Prowl." It was a fleeting thought, pushed aside with a hurried desperation that screamed of long-standing sorrow.

It was that sorrow, more than anything else, which sparked the instinctive flash of guilt through Prowl's own spark and processor.

Just as Prowl could not have missed Bluestreak's speculation, it was impossible for Bluestreak to not catch Prowl's response. The young mech paused all work on his firewalls and focused on Prowl, both in processor and in the physical world. Helpless to keep it from happening, Prowl watched Bluestreak's own quick processor tackle the unasked question. Inside the mechling's mind as he was, the tactician could all but see Bluestreak's rapidly formed logic-chain.

Prowl feels guilty that my creators are not there.

Prowl used to be a Decepticon tactician.

"Bluestreak…" Prowl whispered, helpless to stop the youngling's reasoning, but desperately wanting a chance to explain before…

Prowl would only feel guilty about my creator's deaths if he had had something to do with their death.

Prowl could only have had something to do with their death if he had had something to do with the destruction of Praxus!

Bluestreak was trembling, his optics wide as he looked at Prowl as if never seeing him before. Then anger swooped in where shock had been. "No wonder you didn't want to talk about Praxus. No wonder you didn't want to tell me about what you were doing that day… You lied me! Murderer!"

The last word was a furious scream as, despite Prowl's earlier warning, Bluestreak recoiled, standing abruptly and jerking away from his mentor without withdrawing from the interface first. Prowl knew what was going to happen, knew he could not prevent it and only had the merest fraction of an astrosecond to try and mitigate the damage. Dual interface as it was, the abrupt connection would inevitably fragment data on both ends. If he threw his firewalls up completely, he could minimize the damage that his own processor took. But he could not bear thinking what that would do to Bluestreak to run up against those firewalls as the connection broke.

Instead, Prowl used that tiny fraction of time to separate his mind from Bluestreak's mentally 'pushing' at the youngling's presence and forcing him back toward that neutral public space. But he did not have enough time to separate completely before the connection snapped as Bluestreak's back-peddling physically pulled their cords apart.

Prowl felt the fire of fragmented coding rip through his own mind even as Bluestreak screamed. Bluestreak collapsed to the ground, writhing in pain, his hands cradling his helm in an effort to quell a burning pain that could not be quenched. But Prowl could still function, though his own vision was blurred as errors crowded his awareness. By that, he knew it was a relatively minor fragmentation.

Forcing his frame to function through the haze and mental inferno, Prowl moved to the younger mech, scanning his vital systems even as he activated his internal comm.. /Ratchet…/ Prowl cringed against the pain trying to envelop his mind.

/Yes, Prowl?/ Ratchet responded with typical professional coolness.

/Need… help./ Static suffused the line and made Prowl wince. /Bluestreak…/ He was having trouble stringing words together so he sent a quick databurst with the pertinent details.

There was half a second of silence as Ratchet processed the information, then: /Glitching pile of scrap, you bolt-processored rust mite! I'm on my way./

The line was disconnected abruptly and Prowl knew he would be held responsible in the CMO's optics if for no other reason than he had placed the comm. call to summon help. But Prowl brushed that aside; he was the adult here, Bluestreak's safety was his responsibility.

Cringing anew against the fire in his own processor, Prowl put his hand on the young mech's shoulders. Prowl knew his actions in the milliseconds before the connection snapped had ensured that he had himself taken the brunt of the fragmentation. Yet he also knew that as Bluestreak's first experience with fragmentation; it would have a trauma all it's own. He could only pray to Primus that the psychological damage would prove as temporary as the fragmentation itself.

"Ratchet is… on the way… hold on, Bluestreak." Prowl managed to whisper, the gears in his helm straining as they tried to clear his frame of a physical discomfort that could not be so easily dismissed.

Bluestreak only curled tighter on himself, his engine whining in agony.

"I know… it hurts…"

As if on cue, Ratchet overrode the door controls and stormed into the suddenly too-small chamber. First Aid and Jolt were right on his heel struts. Without saying a single word – which was an oddly frightening experience – Ratchet first scanned Bluestreak and grimaced. Then he scanned Prowl.

Ratchet snarled at no one in particular. "Right. First Aid, help Prowl, then you two join us in the med bay. Jolt, help me."

Supporting Bluestreak between them, Ratchet and Jolt quickly left, the CMO never bothering to give Prowl a second look. Somehow fear began to penetrate the haze of agony in Prowl's processor even as First Aid slowly approached him. Wordlessly, Prowl granted the medic access. Even though fire still licked his processor, Prowl's own systems had already started to work on correcting the damaged data. Even so, First Aid's assistance made the process much faster. Within two breems the pain was completely gone as each string of data was defragmented and correctly filed.

First Aid helped Prowl to his pedes and then led him into the hall, still without saying a single word. That silence more than anything else told Prowl how serious the situation was from a medical point of view.

They were half way to the medical bay when First Aid leaned closer, speaking quietly. "It really isn't a good thing for a mech as young as Bluestreak to get fragmented."

A fresh wave a guilt lashed against Prowl, Sending a different yet familiar pain through his processor. Determinably Prowl pushed the looming blackness of the failsafe aside as he answered First Aid. "I know."

They walked a couple more steps before First Aid spoke again. "I know you didn't do it on purpose. So does Ratchet. But… he's pretty upset."

"I gathered as much." Prowl murmured, trying to subdue the worry and dread that was threatening his own control.

First Aid looked at him, for the first time worry written clearly over his faceplates. "Ratchet is probably going to take it out on you for letting it happen."

Prowl glanced at the junior medic and, for some strange reason, felt some of his nebulous concerns settle; Ratchet would ensure he answered for the harm Bluestreak had taken. Retribution was now just as inevitable as the fragmentation had been. For some reason, that reality helped ground Prowl and push away the crash that wanted to claim his processor.

… … …

By the time Prowl and First Aid reached the medbay, Bluestreak had already been defragmented, though he was still reclining on the berth. Prowl stepped through the doors, with doorwings held rigid behind his back, his optics bright as they sought his young charge. Naturally, all optics – medical staff and patient alike – flicked from Bluestreak's miserable looking form to Prowl as the door closed behind him.

All optics except for Ratchet, who had a hand cupped over the youngling's helm, and that youngling himself. Prowl froze just inside the door so quickly that First Aid almost ran into him.

"I know, it hurts." Ratchet murmured gently, and that gentleness alone threatened to terrify Prowl for reasons he could not immediately identify. Nor did he bother to try and find out, focusing instead on Bluestreak's response. Everyone else around them was also straining to hear as well, indicating that no one really knew what was going on.

Unfortunately, that ignorance was not going to last as Bluestreak shook his helm, shuttering his optics. "It isn't just that… he was helping be build some firewalls, like you said I needed to do and, he tried to keep it from me, but he felt guilty about what happened to Praxus. That means he must have been part of what happened, he was a tactician after all, that means my creators… I can't believe I ever thought he was there to rescue me. I was so stupid…"

Ratchet frowned. "Now, Bluestreak, you don't know…

"I was in his head!" Bluestreak shot back, optics blazing to full intensity. "I know what I felt."

Prowl felt pain lick his processor even as it felt like Bluestreak had driven a hot poker into his spark. Unwittingly he took a step forward, one hand starting to reach imploringly toward the one individual who had trusted him from the beginning. The movement served to draw Bluestreak's attention to him for the first time.

The younger Praxian stiffened, his doorwings flaring upward aggressively. Ratchet blinked and then turned to follow the mechling's gaze, only then seeing the Head Tactician. A wrench appeared in his hand out of subspace only a mere astrosecond before he hurled it at Prowl's face.

Prowl almost ducked, but that would have put First Aid in the missile's path. Instead, Prowl started to reach up and snag it out of the air, but two things prevented him. First, the sure knowledge that Ratchet's fury would only be stoked by such an action and second: his gaze flicked to Bluestreak. The abject pain and raw grief he saw warring with a sense of betrayal and anger in the young mech's gaze made all thoughts of self-preservation disappear from Prowl's processor.

Instead of avoiding the flying hardware entirely, Prowl merely turned his helm so it struck temple plating rather than his face plate. He walked slowly toward Bluestreak's berth, catching the wrench as it ricocheted away from him.

Prowl's doorwings dropped apologetically and he stopped his approach when Bluestreak's frame started shaking. "Bluestreak…"

"No!" Bluestreak sat forward so forcefully even Ratchet stepped away, though his glare was focused solely on Prowl. "I've listened to you since we got here and you've lied to me. Now you will listen to me."

Prowl's doorwings dipped a bit further, his optics widening. Nevertheless he let his field flicker in acknowledgement.

"I trusted you." Bluestreak snarled. "I actually thought you were there to rescue me. But you were part of it. You helped Megatron kill my creators and you had the… the… bearings to pretend to be my guardian when it was partially your fault I was an orphan to begin with! You are a murderer!"

It was nothing multiple other Autobots had not already accused him of, but coming from Bluestreak the words stung like a physical blow. Considering that Megatron had used his plan to attack Iacon to destroy Praxus, Prowl could not even summon the energy to want to deny the accusation: it was far too similar to thoughts he had entertained about himself.

As if still reading his thoughts, Bluestreak slid off the berth and, frame still shaking with the depth of his emotions, stormed up to Prowl. His motor controls feelings on the brink of betrayal, his own spark screaming with anguish, Prowl could not meet Bluestreak's optics.

"I trusted you! I defended you… I trusted you!" The last word morphed into an agonized keen as Bluestreak's control finally snapped and he swung a fist at Prowl. Movements uncontrolled and born of built-up pain and grief, Bluestreak continued to strike at him in the same manner he had done several times as a sparkling. Only this time, Bluestreak was not a sparkling merely able to scratch paint; he was in an adult frame.

Yet Prowl never reacted as blow after blow found its mark. Lack of skill and training meant the strikes Bluestreak threw were not as damaging as they could have been, but he knew enough that the blows stung and minor damage began to accumulate. When Ratchet, First Aid and a couple of the patients moved to restrain Bluestreak, Prowl sent a sharp databurst to stop them. He used his authority, as a Senior Commander, because Bluestreak needed an outlet for this built up emotional overload and Prowl knew he could take the blows and… well, he was the one who had unintentionally misled Bluestreak. For the same reason Prowl never resisted the assault, taking it just as he had Bluestreak's other meltdowns in the past.

It was only after a well-placed succession of blows drove Prowl to one knee did Bluestreak stop. The young mech took a half-step back, his vents heaving as he looked at Prowl. He stared with wide eyes at the accumulation of dents, scraped paint and tiny rivulets of energon now scattered over his guardian's frame. Engine whining in time with his labored venting, Bluestreak looked at his own hands, seeing not just streaks of white and black paint but also traces of glowing energon.

At Bluestreak's prolonged silence and lack of further aggression, Prowl looked up at him. "Bluestreak, please… I will show you…"

"No!" Bluestreak cut him off. "Don't…" Another keen filled the air. "I don't want you in my life any more. You are no longer my guardian!"

Prowl winced, the writhing of his spark stabbing into his processor so savagely he nearly surrendered to oblivion but he fought the darkness off as Bluestreak whimpered another keen before he fled from the medbay.

Prowl sagged, his frame slumping as the door closed behind Bluestreak with a sad finality that every beat of his spark protested against. He looked down at the ground, heedless of the minor damage that riddled his frame and the only evidence of his internal agony visible to those who now watched him silently was the barest trembling of his usually motionless doorwings and the very slight straining of the gears in his hands, which were clenched into fists. Only movement next to him – as Ratchet knelt to examine his frame – snapped Prowl back to the moment.

Immediately remembering their audience, but not really able to bring himself to care, Prowl sucked in a vent of air to cool his frame. Then he gave an abrupt shake of his helm and stood, brushing off Ratchet's attempts to work on his various dents.

"Watch out for him, Ratchet." Prowl's voice was strained and static laced but not from physical pain. "Be there for him."

Prowl turned to leave and almost made it to the door before Ratchet recovered from his abrupt departure – or maybe it was the nearly broken tenor of his voice – and called out to him. "You need to be there for him. He needs you, not me."

"I can try, but you heard him Ratchet." Never had Prowl uttered such painful words and he glanced briefly up to meet Ratchet's optics before he left, a sense of shame settling around his armor like rust.

Silence filled the medbay for several long seconds after the door closed behind Prowl. Some of them were just stunned at the nature of the drama that had unfolded, for others it was shock at seeing more emotion from a mech they had assumed devoid of such things.

Finally one of the injured mechs, sitting on a berth near where Bluestreak had been, broke the unnatural quiet by asking if Bluestreak's accusations were true.

"No." Ratchet answered quietly, his usual acerbic tone subdued. "Not like that. Bluestreak is doing what all young mechs do; jumping to conclusions with less than a full datapack."

Ratchet met First Aid's gaze, both pained on Prowl's behalf. Unspoken by any of the witnesses, as if mentioning it with words would dishonor the sacrifice they had seen, was any comment on their thoughts about how Prowl had let Bluestreak explode at him like that. No one said anything, but most understood the tactician's passivity was because Prowl believed he had already hurt Bluestreak enough and was determined not to hurt him again. Those who did not know Prowl at all, at least on any personal level, were actually comforted to see him respond in such a poignant way.

All but fleeing the medbay, Prowl started to head for the underground training arena but stopped, thinking that might be a place Bluestreak would seek refuge. Part of his processors told him to go after Bluestreak, another part told him to give the mechling space and approach him later, while yet another part told him to accept the dismissal and not intrude on Bluestreak's life on a personal level from that point on. The tactician had no idea what to do and no basis of previous experience to draw any conclusions from.

Solitude. He realized abruptly. He wanted solitude; space where he could meditate and clear his mind and think about this rationally. The pain in the back of his processor had become a steady ache and Prowl knew if he did not regain control of his emotions soon he would trigger that failsafe.

Without conscious decision, Prowl's pedes took him to his office. Once there, he locked the door and sat heavily behind his desk. Meditate first, work second. However, no sooner had he made that decision, did the pain flare a moment before a faint clicking sensation plunged him into darkness.

… … …

Prowl did not return to his quarters that night, choosing to stay in his office and work. The constant flow of numbers and calculations helped soothe his tattered emotional core and help him focus on something concrete. Likewise he only left his office to retrieve energon when his tanks warned him his fuel level was less than half.

His sensitive audios had picked up the murmurs of the other mechs in the rec room and he knew himself and Bluestreak to be the topic of their speculations. Feeling even more off balance than before, Prowl retreated back to his office as quickly as he could.

More than he had done since he had first come to Iacon as a POW, Prowl retreated behind his mask of impassivity and cold calculation.

Nearing the end of his shift, Prowl was still working in his office, steadily sifting through recent intelligence reports on Decepticon movements, sorting them by importance and classifying them by which team would need the information when the Prime pinged his comm. system and requested he come to the Primary Command Center. Immediately, Prowl acknowledged the request and sent the compiled information where it needed to go while saving his analysis and locking his desk's work station.

All of that was accomplished even as he stood to follow the Prime's order. Nothing in his outward demeanor gave evidence of his worry that this summons was to discuss the issue with Bluestreak.

The atmosphere that greeted Prowl in the Command Center was tense and worried. The tactician noted this even though he kept his own outward appearance calm and unaffected. Wordlessly he walked up to the Prime and came to attention, not giving evidence of his growing unease.

"You wished to see me sir?"

Optimus studied him for a long moment and then nodded, the armor around his optics relaxing just enough to be noticeable. "Yes. I have just received this message from Governor Triticus of Tyger Pax."

Prowl took the datapad the Prime handed him and played the message. At first he felt a wave of relief that was at odds with the agitation in mechs that were now closely watching him for his reaction. Triticus eloquently pledged Tyger Pax's support in their scheme to keep the AllSpark out of Decepticon hands. This was good news. But then the governor continued to speak, clasping his hands together in front of himself in the manner adopted by all politicians when delivering news of great solemnity.

Prowl felt his fingers tighten on the datapad as Triticus explained that he had arrested Jazz and then proceeded to delineate the reasons why. He knew Jazz well enough to know the mech had the skills and the personality to do what he was accused of if he felt the need. But Jazz was one of his few friends and the thought of him being prosecuted like this nearly undid Prowl's tenuous control.

With an effort of will Prowl kept his field from flaring angrily and then peeled his fingers off the back of the datapad and handed it back to the Prime. There were hairline cracks in the casing. "What do you intend to do about this, Prime?"

His voice came out cool and emotionless, which pleased Prowl even if it caused a susurration of irritation if not downright anger in the watching mechs. It was evidence of the esteem with which almost all the Autobots held Jazz, at least that was how Prowl chose to interpret the reaction. It could also be that they believed he should not be so collected after the incident with Bluestreak. Prowl did not know, nor did he care to find out.

Optimus stared at him for a long moment and Prowl fought the sudden urge to squirm as he realized that even the Prime was unhappy with his apparent impassivity. That assumption was confirmed by the way the Prime straightened and the way his optics hardened. "Criminal law is your expertise. Get to the bottom of this."

Prowl's vents flared in response to the order. "And if Jazz is guilty?"

The soft sound of shifting metal met the Praxian's audios as armor flared on all the mechs around him. Optimus' gaze continued to bore into him. "Triticus was personally involved in the crime he accuses Jazz of. If his guilt is, in fact, established I want to make sure such a conflict of interest does not result in a disregard of fairness."

Prowl understood. In these troubled times, a true court was a luxury and Judgment Tribunals were far more common. If Jazz was going to trial it would most likely be with Triticus – as Governor of Tyger Pax – as his judge and jury. Prowl 's spark pulsed painfully in his chassis as he understood the full extent of the injustice his friend would face and it took a supreme effort to keep the sudden myriad of additional emotions from showing outwardly.

Prowl managed to give a small nod and Optimus stepped closer, his voice intense though not truly harsh. "You are the best qualified to head Jazz's defense."

With that declaration Prowl felt his own armor relax. He was not truly a lawyer, but he did know the laws and legal procedures well enough to be more than competent with the duty. Even better; it gave him something concrete to do in order to help Jazz when he felt so impotent to help Bluestreak. "Understood sir."

"Then I will leave you to it, Commander." With that, Optimus turned on his heel strut and walked to his office. Prowl took a moment to organize his processor and decide on his next step, all the while privately grieving that this would delay his efforts to figure out how to effectively reach out to Bluestreak while simultaneously welcoming the reprieve.

The angry stillness in the mechs around Prowl illustrated their protest at his apparent disinterest, but Prowl did not take the time to worry about that matter; feeling decidedly unable to handle the additional emotional strain.

He looked at Blaster. "I need a secure line to Tyger Pax."

Blaster's blue gaze was icy as he pointed to an unoccupied consol. It was one of the substations near the main station. Not exactly one that offered privacy, which was probably done on purpose judging from the communication expert's expression. However, since Prowl had not requested a private terminal he said nothing about the slight discourtesy and simply went to the indicated station.

His attempt to contact Jazz resulted in static, which caused a ripple of concern through the Command Center in evidence that others were in fact eavesdropping. Prowl felt alarm as well, though nothing showed outwardly. He tapped a finger on the consol edge for a handful of seconds and then, a frown touching his lip plates, he sent another communication request. This time it was an official Autobot communiqué to the Governor himself.

Prowl was intently focused now on what he needed to do for Jazz, so he did not see Blaster's blink of surprise as he saw exactly who Prowl was contacting. Nor did he see the silent exchange of looks between the others in the command center as they all waited for what was to happen next.


If you want to know what happens in the immediate future, please read the one shot entitled Shadow Games. Yes, that means this is where that particular one-shot fits into Turning Points.

Quick Update on my mother's situation: She continues to battle the cancer. Since my last update she has been admitted to the hospital twice for a skin infection around the tumor and one time with pneumonia. Since they cleared the pneumonia up she has been doing remarkably well. She did radiation while they were waiting for the infection to clear up because she couldn't do chemo and then she got shingles (a common thing after radiation therapy, apparently). Anyway, in two weeks we will do another round of imaging studies to see how the cancer is responding and to determine what the next step is. So… updates will probably continue to be slow for now.

Also: I have received a couple of reviews suggesting that I break this story into two parts or even a trilogy. Thank you for the recommendation, but I have decided to keep this as one primary (if really long) story with splinter stories in the same universe.

As always, I crave reviews. Thank you