Thanks again to everyone for their thoughts and prayers. I can say that though there are still moments when it is tough, for the most part I am feeling more like myself, though I still miss my mother dearly. Even so life goes on, with or without me and I am again eager to be part of life again. Thankfully now I am also learning to once again consider the past with fond enjoyment along side the sadness when considering pleasant memories rather than just the pain of loss and grief. I want to encourage anyone who is suffering the loss of a loved one that if you move through and face the pain and grief rather than run from it, it does indeed become easier to manage and endure. Joy can and will come back into your life if you let it.
My apologies for the long delay - though it has not been nearly as long as the last delay. This chapter has been more or less in its current state for a couple of months, but I was delaying so that I could post at least one chapter on AO3 simultaneously with this post. But real life has preempted all my best laid schemes. Thankfully, real life has not dealt me any additional blows this time, it has merely kept be crazy busy with somewhat important things like making money to buy food and pay bills and spend time with family (as well as other more exciting things, hehehe). Food is good...
Jazz was only a handful of joors into his impromptu patrol mission when his processor was pinged with an urgent request from the Tactical Commander. Instantly worried about Prowl, Jazz accessed the update a mere astrosecond before he reminded himself that Prowl would not use the official communications channel for personal problems.
Still, he reasoned as he decided to peruse the communiqué anyway, Prowl would not tag something as urgent unless it was indeed urgent. As he and Mirage were still safely within Autobot territory, he felt safe enough to investigate further and was somewhat surprised to see it was a request for Special Operations to investigate some suspicious Decepticon activity around Helix Septum.
"Interestin'…" Jazz murmured to himself as he delved deeper into the intelligence reports that Prowl had attached to the request.
"What?" Mirage asked, swerving a little closer to him.
Annoyed with himself for the slip, Jazz pinged the young spy to shut up and focus on their surroundings. Mirage's compliance was instant yet somewhat arrogant in manner, though Jazz felt the hurt that briefly flickered through the white mech's field and suspected the arrogance was an attempt to hid the hurt.
He released a gust of air and deliberately softened his tone, reminding himself that Mirage, like Bluestreak, was younger than he appeared. "I need ta focus on an intelligence dump from base. I'm trustin' ya to keep an eye out for danger."
Mirage's eerily quiet engine sputtered, and his fielded flickered with something that was probably happy surprise. "Yes… understood, sir."
They drove in silence for several more kilometers as Jazz reviewed the data. Nothing was concrete, as Helix Septum was not a strategically important quadrant. Additionally, all of the data that pointed to possible Decepticon activity in the area was circumstantial at best. A flight of seekers along a known patrol route, but off course just enough to hint that something was different. A regiment of ground troops seen by chance that could have been going anywhere along the equatorial band, but Helix Septum was along 88.614% of their predicted routes. A small squad of front-liners that a patrol caught hints of for an instant on long-range scans, but where out of range by the time the data was followed up on, yet projected calculations based on that single snapshot of speed and direction indicated that the Decepticons had created a new patrol route somewhere in the Delta Downs…a sector of Helix Septum. And more of the sort.
Nothing in any single report indicated anything in particular. And every single one of them could have a legitimate alternative explanation. But taken in aggregate, they created a compelling picture of something.
Jazz had even submitted some of the reports referenced by Prowl and had completely missed the implications at the time. Thank Primus for Prowl's freakily efficient processor.
Something in Jazz's tank clenched, though he could not put a finger on exactly what. Perhaps it was just that he trusted Prowl's analysis and conjecture more than he trusted most mech's facts. Regardless of the reason, Jazz knew that request needed to be followed up on immediately.
He quickly checked his patrol route and saw that it would only add an orn or two for he and Mirage to make the necessary reconnaissance of the Helix Septum boarder, especially if they put on some speed. They could stop at one of the outlying bases to refuel and restock their supplies, or even one of the Spec. Ops safe houses. It would be a risk, doing that type of mission with an untested mech like Mirage but…
Well, Jazz was used to operating alone if he had to. And Mirage… as good as he was, Mirage was just a youngling. As much as he would hate himself afterward, Jazz knew he could kill the former Decepticon spy if he had to.
Decision made between one sparkbeat and the next, Jazz slammed on his breaks and transformed, flowing from rolling on wheels to standing on two feet in one smooth, seemingly continuous movement.
Mirage was a moment in realizing what Jazz had done and by the time he had done the same, the white mech was several meters past Jazz. White optics regarded Jazz with honest curiosity, as Jazz considered the young mech in front of him. He watched Mirage react to whatever he read in his field or posture.
Slowly, Mirage straightened, a mask of cool indifference and guarded caution slowly settling over his features. "Did I do something wrong, Jazz?"
Jazz blinked, recognizing that same careful shielding of thoughts and emotions as something Prowl had done after his defection. Same thing with the immediate assumption of guilt. That mental connection was enough to make Jazz sigh, his armor relaxing over his frame.
"Our mission on this patrol just changed. Or my mission has." He narrowed his optics at the younger mech even though he knew Mirage would not see that behind his visor. He crossed his arms over his chassis "Somethin's come up and I ain't got time to waste on a standard patrol. Common sense says I send ya back to base rather than take ya behind enemy lines."
Mirage went very still. "If I return without you I will probably be killed on sight."
"Yeah. That's a problem." His engine growled. "But I can't afford ta be watchin' my back from you when there will be plenty of other threats about."
Mirage rocked back, then his own engine growled and he leaned forward, looming over Jazz just a fraction. "I have a complete tracer program installed in my processor that does not allow me to intentionally betray the Autobots. Ratchet installed it himself."
There was no obvious bitterness in that sentence, though Jazz could detect just a hint of it in Mirage's field. "That wouldn't prevent ya from taking advantage of a situation. Only from planning somethin'." Jazz pointed out, not backing down.
Mirage continued to glare at him for a long handful of seconds, then he deflated, armor drooping over his frame. It was not a dramatic show of emotion, not compared to most Autobots, but Jazz's familiarity with Prowl made it easy to see.
"Understood, sir. Is…" Mirage cleared his vents. "Is there some token you can give me to prove I am following your orders when I return to Iacon?"
Jazz straightened, his optics flashing. "Ya would return to Iacon anyway?"
"Of course I would." Mirage took a step back, averting his gaze. "It isn't like I have anywhere else to go."
"By yourself you could just disappear. Go anywhere." Jazz purred the words.
Mirage merely shook his helm. "Prowl said I could prove myself. I have to try."
Satisfied, Jazz nodded once. "That's why I'm gonna take ya with me."
Mirage looked like he could have been felled by a petrorabbit. His lower mandible went slack, optics wide and his entire frame jerked with surprise. It was all Jazz could do not to laugh at the spy. Eventually Mirage's engine coughed, his entire frame giving a visible shudder before he reset his optics.
"I am going with you?" Mirage asked blankly, "Into enemy territory?"
Jazz sobered, nodding. "Yep. Primus knows I shouldn't. Prowl will probably read me the riot act for taking such a risk before your integration period is complete."
Mirage's helm jerked back and he was a moment in answering. When he did he sounded more like his true age. "I won't let you down, sir. I promise."
"I hope not." But the younger mech's blatant earnestness gave Jazz more confidence in that regard than he wanted to admit. "Well then, let's quit wasting time."
Jazz was about to transform again, but Mirage lifted a hand to forestall him. "If I might ask, where are we going?"
"Helix Septum." Jazz answered, watching Mirage keenly.
Mirage's optics widened fractionally and he straightened, his frame stiffening. "Oh. I see."
"Know it, do ya?"
"You could say that, sir. I only went there once, it is an abandoned base, for all that it is relatively new. I went only because I found a vague reference to it in one of Megatron's personal files. I never understood why he did not want anyone knowing about it because it was nothing…" Mirage stopped, looking at Jazz, his optics glittering. "Something has changed. I take it is no longer an empty base."
It was not a question, but an observation. Yes, Mirage was sharp, no doubt about that. "That is what we need to determine."
… … …
Prowl sat in his office, drumming his fingers on the desk as he considered the reports of his staff, but his processor would not focus to his standards. He felt a faint flush of success – Optimus Prime had given orders to begin experimenting with the gestalt technology – but he was careful to subdue that unprofessional feeling. Indeed, it was too early to consider it a victory, in any case. Ratchet still had to determine that the gestalt technology would not result in the offlining of all members before the project could continue.
In short, the future of that ambitious plan was out of the tactical department's hands now. The Chief Medical Officer would either approve further research and development or the entire thing would be cancelled.
With a sigh of air, Prowl quickly reviewed all the other tasks necessary for him, as the Tactical Department Commander, to oversee. There were a few minor things he had not yet completed, but nothing that could override the higher priority task pinging his primary processors: Bluestreak.
Bluestreak was the real reason Prowl was having trouble focusing on his reports. And now he was officially free to speak to the youngling. His right arm burned.
Abruptly Prowl stood, swiped his finger across his computer terminal to secure it and put the system into standby. At the same time he activated his communications system. /Prowl to Bluestreak, please respond./
The tactician hid a wince at how pleading his transmission sounded. Then he waited. When no response came after a tenth of a breem, Prowl tried again. /Bluestreak… I would like to meet with you./
Again the seconds ticked by with no response. Prowl double checked the signal and confirmed that the youngling was indeed receiving his transmission.
Irritation flared through Prowl and he pinged the recalcitrant mechling with more force. /You have been avoiding me, Bluestreak. Such sparkling-like behavior has gone on long enough./
The response he got back that time was not verbal but was the equivalent of an angry snarl that made Prowl wince. It also drove home the fact that Bluestreak was not just a youngling, but a hurting youngling. Bluestreak could not be dealt with as he would a disobedient subordinate. He wanted to curse the fact he was not programmed to deal with younglings. It had been hard enough to know what to do when things had been normal with Bluestreak, but this…
Prowl shook his helm, ignoring how the other mechs in the hallway glanced at him. Then Chromia's advice floated to the front of his processor; that he needed to listen to his spark when dealing with Bluestreak rather than his logic and battle systems. His spark.
He did not want to lecture Bluestreak. Pit, if he was honest with himself he understand why Bluestreak was so angry with him. Perhaps that was why he had not pushed the youngling for a meeting earlier. But that avoidance had obviously been the wrong tactic. Chromia had also confirmed his determination to offer Bluestreak a complete explanation. At this point, it was obvious that was all he could do.
Taking in a deep vent of air, Prowl activated his comm. again, this time his tone was more entreating. /I am sorry Bluestreak. That… that was not expressed as clearly as I wanted…/
/You expressed exactly what you meant./ Bluestreak cut him off harshly. /You don't accidently say anything./
Prowl winced again, looking down at his pedes as he walked the now long-familiar halls of the Autobot headquarters. /I am sorry Bluestreak. You have every right to be angry with me. I have never stated otherwise./
Bluestreak did not respond to that but the signal was never terminated. After several seconds, Prowl continued, following Chromia's, Jazz's and his own spark's instruction, even though what he said easily the hardest words he had ever uttered. /Bluestreak, contrary to what you may think, I understand why you are angry with me. I did not tell you everything at the time both because I judged you were too young to understand and… and because I was afraid that you would hate me. I can freely acknowledge that I was wrong to mislead you even if I cannot change what I have done in the past. What I can do, what I want to do now is offer you that explanation. I do not expect what you learn to change your opinion of me, but it is my duty as your guardian and my desire as someone who does care for your wellbeing, that you be given the opportunity to know the whole truth./
Bluestreak did not respond for a long time and yet the communication circuit remained open, so Prowl merely waited.
After nearly another half-breem, Bluestreak responded. /So if I listen to your explanation and still decide I want nothing to do with you, you will leave me alone?/
Prowl sighed. /I am the Head Tactician for the Autobots. If you join the Autobots then I will not be able to leave you completely alone in that regards, but as far as personal matters are concerned, so long as your wellbeing will not be jeopardized, I will honor such a request to the best of my ability./
And his ethical programming would hold him to such a promise, though Bluestreak was not aware of that fact.
Bluestreak was silent again for another uncomfortable and uncharacteristic stretch of time and Prowl felt a sudden wave of defeat. He transmitted again, before Bluestreak could respond. /Please consider my offer, Bluestreak. I am sorry I hurt you in any way. While I know it in no way makes up for such pain, I do want you to know the whole truth of the matter. I will be in a training room for the next several joors. If you decide you wish to speak, please join me./
With that, Prowl cut off the transmission himself, not trusting the strange sensation pounding through his chassis or the stab of pain in his helm. Curse his unstable emotional cortex. Prowl quickened his steps, longing for the isolation of the training room so that he could try and center his spark through meditation.
… … …
Bluestreak stared at the closed hatch leading to the training room Prowl was using. The green indicator lights at the top confirming that the room was both occupied and that a simulation was in use. Knowing that his guardian…former guardian… was doubtless aware of his presence, he nonetheless hesitated. He did not want to examine why he was loath to face Prowl. He was not sure he wanted to know the real reason.
A golden hand landed lightly on his shoulder. "As much of an aft as Prowl is, Blue, I don't think he will hurt you."
Bluestreak nodded, looking over at Sunstreaker. "I know that, I just don't want to go in there. I'm not sure I want to know what he has to tell me, though I can't stand not knowing either. It's all very confusing."
"I'm sure." Sunstreaker shook his helm, engine revving. "We can go with you. He might be able to wipe the decking with us, but it would pressure…"
"I ain't putting my bumper on the line for this. Bad enough we're here. You know the glitch can probably tell we are here too." Sideswipe took a step back.
Bluestreak nodded. "Sides is right. I can handle Prowl. I hope. Maybe you could stay out here and watch my back though?"
Bluestreak cringed internally at how pathetic that question came out. It made him sound ridiculously young. The fact that he was young, and shouldn't even be in an adult frame, only made the feeling more acute and embarrassing.
"Sure, Blue. Sure." Sideswipe flashed him a grin.
"Of course, Blue," Sunstreaker confirmed, squeezing his shoulder again before giving him a gentle nudge toward the training room hatch. "We've got your back. Prowl will regret it if he doesn't do as he promised."
Bluestreak cycled his vents at the coldness in Sunstreaker's tone even as he reached for the hatch. 'Th-thanks."
Before he could loose the steel in his wires, Bluestreak went into the training room. After an astrosecond's consideration, he locked the hatch once it closed, not really comfortable with the implication of Sunstreaker's last words. Then he turned around to see that Prowl was sitting on the hardlight holographic recreation of his dojo's training mat in a clearly meditative pose, optics powered off. Bluestreak stood there uncertainly for nearly three seconds before he shuffled his pedes in a hesitant step toward Prowl. He simultaneously wanted to ask for a comforting embrace and also hit Prowl as hard as he could and those warring impulses caused him to be unable to anything at all for the moment.
Then Prowl's optics onlined with a flash of sapphire light. Those sharp but seemingly emotionless optics flicked toward the hatch. "You came in alone?"
Bluestreak flinched at the cold tones in that question as it confirmed that Prowl had indeed been aware of both his and the Twin's presences in the hall. He stiffened his spinal struts. "I don't need them to hold my hand."
There might have been the barest flick of a doorwing. "Would you feel better with an audience?"
Bluestreak hesitated, his engine stuttering. "They can watch through the monitoring system."
Prowl studied him for a long astrosecond then nodded, the tension in his armor easing just a fraction. "Indeed, I believe they are. " Another long moment of silence, then the next words seemed strained. "I will not object if you would prefer them to be present in the room. This meeting is for your sake."
Something eased in Bluestreak's own spark at the indication that Prowl was truly wanting him to be at ease. He found himself shaking his helm as he took a wary step toward the older Praxian. "This is between us."
"As you wish." Prowl gestured to the mat before him.
With another cycle of his vents, Bluestreak moved onto the mat to take up a position mirroring Prowl's, sitting in front of the black and white tactician. "You promised me a full explanation about your role in the destruction of Praxus and the death of my creators."
Bluestreak had rehearsed that statement in his processor numerous times in the joor since Prowl had invited him to this meeting. He was pleased with how steady his voice was even if he had to work at keeping it from trembling under Prowl's gaze.
"I did."
"Well?" Bluestreak demanded, emotion edging into his voice. "Jazz said you deserved a chance and I guess he's right. So give me your explanation." Now he was trembling even if his voice was not.
Prowl considered him carefully and then nodded. Without saying anything the adult Praxian merely slid aside the panel covering his primary data port.
Bluestreak shook his helm, leaning away from Prowl. "Uh, uh. Oh, no. I'm not letting you inside my mind again. Not after you fragmented me last time."
Prowl's optics narrowed, though the dataport remained uncovered. "You were fragmented because you terminated the connection mid-interface. Not because of any action on my part."
Bluestreak looked aside, feeling ashamed. "I don't want you in my helm again."
Prowl released a vent and Bluestreak might have sworn he heard a hint of sadness in that whoosh of air. When Prowl spoke, his words were hushed. "There is no need for me to be in your processor at all for this."
Optics snapping up to Prowl's in shock, Bluestreak stammered. "Y-you'd trust me in your helm?"
"I promised a full explanation." Prowl responded, not answering the question. "This is the best way to provide it."
"One way connections are uncomfortable." Bluestreak whispered, staring at the offered port.
"Indeed. I believe I warned you about that first." Prowl's tone was inflectionless.
Bluestreak looked down, shifting uncomfortably remembering that very first interface when he was still in his sparkling frame. He had trusted Prowl implicitly at that time and had been rewarded by a taste of just how much Prowl really did care for him. He wondered if that had changed and whether or not he deserved – or wanted – to know whether Prowl still cared about him.
"Have I ever hurt you?" Prowl whispered the question.
Helm jerking up, his optics blazing, Bluestreak glared at Prowl, his wavering emotions hardening into frustrated anger. "You lied to me."
"I did not explain fully, but I did not lie." Prowl insisted.
Bluestreak's engine growled and his temperature rose. "You were a tactician for Megatron, that means you helped him destroy Praxus!"
"That is not…"
"And I defended you!" Bluestreak yelled, his anger and distress overriding everything else. "I stood up for you! But now… now I can't trust anything you say!"
Prowl's engine growled in response. "Then don't ask questions." He gestured to the his dataport, "Get the answers you want."
Bluestreak trembled, though he was no longer sure what he was feeling. "You can't just order me like that. I'm an adult now. You aren't my guardian any more."
Prowl's doorwing flinched in an unmistakable indication that Bluestreak's verbal barb had struck home. Then the older mech's engine revved in unspoken challenge.
"Fine!" Bluestreak snapped, pulling his cable free and leaning forward to plug it into Prowl's port, holding it pinched between his fingers. But his hand was shaking so badly he almost dropped the cable and could not move closer. With another sigh of air, Prowl lifted an open hand, offering without words to make the connection himself. It was what Bluestreak had done that first time, when Prowl had been the one unwilling to make the actually physical connection.
Feeling sick at his own weakness, Bluestreak hesitated only an astrosecond before dropping the connector into Prowl's hand. Without saying anything, Prowl took the connector and slipped it into his own port.
The automatic synchronization took over an instant later and Bluestreak found himself running up against Prowl's firewalls. Firewalls that were more impressive than he had remembered… frighteningly impressive as his own were still only half formed. But seeing such massive firewalls also triggered a strut-deep interest and youngling-like desire to learn more.
Momentarily forgetting the reason he had synched with Prowl, Bluestreak eased forward mentally to examine those firewalls.
Bluestreak was completely unaware that Prowl could sense all of this through the connection, nor was he consciously aware that Prowl was letting him probe the edges of those firewalls, examining them closely. It was an examination Prowl never would have passively allowed an enemy to conduct.
As Bluestreak understood what he was seeing, that layer of the defensive shell around Prowl's processor would dissolve, allowing him equal access to the next layer.
It took a couple of breems for Bluestreak to realize that Prowl was, in a way, still trying to teach him how to build a firewall on his own. The very lesson that had ultimately lead to Bluestreak understanding how much Prowl had betrayed him. Embarrassment quickly flashed across Bluestreak's CPU, overriding any appreciation he might have felt for the effort. He was not a youngling any more, but Prowl was still treating him like one. He shoved his mental presence against the remaining lines of coding to indicate he was done with the exercise.
Prowl cocked an optic ridge and Bluestreak's frame heated. He knew that hadn't been polite and he knew it was rather like a youngling temper tantrum. Nonetheless, Prowl obligingly lowered his firewall completely just before a pathway lit up for Bluestreak to follow.
Bluestreak blinked in shock. Without the firewall, there would be nothing to stop him from feeling everything Prowl felt, nothing to stop him from digging further than whatever Prowl was going to offer voluntarily. With disbelief now forefront in his processor, Bluestreak followed that path. He quickly found it was the memory of when Prowl had found him in Praxus.
No. That was not what Bluestreak wanted to see. He wanted to know why Prowl had been in Praxus in the first place. He wanted to know just how much he had been lied to, just how guilty Prowl was for his creators' deaths.
So instead of accessing the offered file, he probed further into the older Praxian's memories. Prowl was distinctly uncomfortable with that action and Bluestreak was surprised when his caretaker…former caretaker…did nothing to stop him.
~I promised you a full explanation.~ Prowl's thoughts brushed across Bluestreak's, accompanied by an unexpected sense of resigned surrender. ~If what I wanted to give you isn't enough, I will not stop you from finding your own answers.~
Bluestreak's vents stalled as, across the hardline connection, he felt that Prowl's willingness to let him do this was the only reason he was succeeding at all. Following that was the conviction that this would be his only opportunity to conduct such a search as he had already alienated Prowl. But Bluestreak did not know enough about this type of thing. True, Prowl's mind was so fantastically organized it should probably be easy, but… it wasn't. Not for the inexperienced young mech. Maybe…. Maybe he should just…
Bluestreak dropped his optics to Prowl's chassis. "Why were you in Praxus to begin with?"
Outwardly Prowl did not even twitch, inwardly guilt and shame ghosted across Bluestreak's awareness but it was only the barest moment before a new pathway lit up. Yet, when Bluestreak found the file, he just stared at it, not sure what do or just how much he really wanted to see it, the conflict causing a dull ache in his processor.
"You can scan it for data like we did last time or you can access it and watch the memory play out. I can also link the applicable files so you need not search for others unless you specifically wish to." Prowl murmured softly.
Prowl was helping him. Even now, Bluestreak understood, Prowl was teaching him. He nodded weakly both in understanding and acceptance of the offered assistance. Then he accessed this memory.
Bluestreak saw Megatron in person for the first time as Prowl was taken to Megatron's private office. He could feel the concern and fear that Prowl felt in that moment as well as the dislike and dread at the order to follow the Decepticon leader.
Bluestreak looked at Prowl in confusion in the physical world. "You were a Decepticon. Why did you fear him?"
There was a moment of distinct reluctance and then the memory playback was paused and another was recalled for Bluestreak, who was all but swept up into it this time.
It had been one of the few times the Decepticons had failed to take an outpost after Prowl had come to work for them as their Head Tactician and though he was afraid, Prowl had stayed at his post in the Command Center doing his duty.
Sensitive doorwings alerted him to Megatron's arrival and that the massive mech was stalking toward him. Then a rough hand landed on one of those doorwings and crushed, using that hold to swing Prowl to face him.
"You failed!" Megatron roared.
Verbal processors stunned at the sudden fire stabbing through his doorwings, Prowl tried to stammer something, an apology or an explanation, but his efforts were met with a vicious blow to his chassis that threw him against the terminal he had been using.
"I gave you a chance to prove your worth, you pathetic glitch. If you can't do better than that you have no reason to exist."
He felt Prowl's frustration and humiliation, but that was overshadowed by pain from the assault. He also felt Prowl's fleeting wish that he had never joined the Decepticons, but that was accompanied by a desperate realization that there was nothing he could do about that now. All he could do was survive and try to bring the war to a quick end. So instead of defending himself – which he knew would only engender further wrath – Prowl murmured an apology.
"You're sorry!" Megatron snarled, striking him again. "You are sorry. And if this happens again, you will be dead."
A massive hand closed around Prowl's throat, slamming him against the consol again, sensitive doorwings caught between his own mass and the equipment, "Do you understand me Prowl."
"Yes, sir."
Then they were back in the 'paused' memory, and Bluestreak was left with the distinct impression that that memory was only one of several. But then the paused memory started playing again. When Prowl's memory got to his acceptance of the mission that had taken him to Praxus, Bluestreak's anger surged afresh. Under duress or otherwise, Prowl had been helping the Decepticons destroy his home. For some reason that confirmation hurt more than he wanted or expected.
Bluestreak would later remember that his intentions must have translated through the hardline connection so that Prowl had not really been caught off guard as he launched himself at the older mech. Bluestreak collided with Prowl, knocking the tactician backwards onto his back as his hands closed around his elder's collar struts as a sense of betrayal closed, suffocating around his Spark.
His vents heaving in silent sobs, Bluestreak started to withdraw his processor from Prowl's.
~That is not all you need to know!~ Prowl's mental snarl was accompanied by his firewalls springing back up, trapping Bluestreak.
Bluestreak snarled, his engine growling, but a sense of self-preservation and the memory of how painful a fragmentation was kept him from disconnecting the interface. The feeling of being trapped translated into outrage at the one trapping him and he lashed out at Prowl.
And he felt a few lines of Prowl's code fracture under that assault before they fragmented entirely. Hints of burning pain licked against Bluestreak's awareness as Prowl's optics narrowed in discomfort. Bluestreak froze entirely, acutely aware that he had caused that pain, not once but twice now.
The young mech waited, motionless both physically and mentally, town between wanting to help ease that pain but not knowing how and a youngling-like desire to hold onto his outrage. But Prowl just pushed aside the fire, locking his gaze onto Bluestreak's.
"Finish what you came here to do." Prowl's voice was tight.
Bluestreak trembled in fear, though he was the one holding Prowl to the dojo mat. "But…"
Prowl just stared at him and Bluestreak fell silent. He could feel the older Praxian's stubbornness and knew he had no way out but to finish because Prowl was not going to bend. Reluctantly, Bluestreak returned to the memory file.
As it continued to play out, he realized how Megatron had used lack of cruelty and ruthlessness as 'evidence' to question Prowl's loyalty to the Decepticons and he understood that plans which had dealt untold suffering to the autobots were considered 'pacifistic' by the Decepticon leader. He also saw the web of lies that got Prowl into Praxus and Prowl's discomfort with those lies.
Then he felt Prowl's genuine surprise when the attack began and heard Prowl's conversation with Starscream and felt the older Praxian's horror at what was happening and then there was the damage Prowl had taken as the world exploded around him.
Through the hardline connection, Bluestreak was soon watching the moment when Prowl had entered his family's domicile.
Prowl was desperate to find shelter and Bluestreak was painfully aware that Prowl was there with the express purpose of self-preservation and was willing to loot his home for his own sake.
Then he saw his creator's dead frames through Prowl's optics.
It took Bluestreak a moment to realize that the roiling nausea he felt in his tanks was not just his own, but Prowl's: A physical sensation recorded in the memory and emotional files he was viewing. Reflexively, Bluestreak paused the memory playback and more closely examined the emotional files associated with the memory.
Yes, there was the horror of the scene itself, but that was tempered by an eons-long life as an enforcer and nearly a decavorn as a Decepticon. Foremost was a sadness because those dying frames – meaningless to Prowl at the time as individuals – were innocent civilians. Neutrals who were killed only because they happened to be Praxians.
It was a moment before Bluestreak could continue the memory and Prowl remained quiescent. No, there was a soft comforting croon coming from the older Praxian's engine, a sound that was more felt than heard. It was comfort and encouragement.
Transmitting a weak 'thanks', Bluestreak returned to the memory.
A noise from Prowl's left and the scene whirled as Prowl turned to face the potential danger and Bluestreak saw himself cowering behind another doorframe.
Resolutely, Bluestreak pushed aside his own memories of the moment of their meeting to again examine Prowl's reaction. Once more, Prowl allowed the inspection, as obvious and bumbling as his efforts were. Pity and sadness along with a hint of guilt predominated as Prowl remembered Megatron's orders to kill sparklings.
Then Bluestreak vicariously experienced the feeling of long suppressed coding flaring painfully to the front of Prowl's processor. The impression of Prowl's emotions changed from vague disgust to a driving need to protect something valuable.
The young mech almost keened at how strong that shift in perspective hit the mech whose memories he was experiencing.
That memory led directly into the one where Prowl dug them out of the rubble. Bluestreak could not escape the fact that it had been his presence alone that had motivated Prowl to stay online. That it had been primarily his wellbeing that had dictated whether or not Prowl surrendered to the Autobots. Bluestreak knew there were other reasons – like a desire to keep such a slaughter from happening again – that had played a role. But primarily it had been concern about what was best for him.
As Ironhide and the others moved in on Prowl, Bluestreak sensed the memory was about to shift.
"No…" Bluestreak started and Prowl froze the memory and waited, watching him.
Bluestreak had been worried at the time, but then he had wondered over the following vorn what that moment had been like for Prowl. The older Praxian sensed his curiosity and obligingly let the memory continue.
Through Prowl's memory, Bluestreak was treated to a first-hand account of what it felt like to have all the various systems – systems Bluestreak himself was still learning how to fully utilize – forcibly disabled.
Panels were pried away and subspace, communications and weapons were disabled by the physical severing of the control systems.
It hurt. It hurt more than Bluestreak had expected. And then the stasis cuffs had licked his arms with paralyzing electricity, rendering him helpless and vulnerable.
No wonder Prowl had howled in pain when he had climbed onto his shoulder. And yet, all he had felt in Prowl's memory was resigned acceptance of the discomfort.
The memory stopped abruptly before Bluestreak had made that climb.
Young optics flicked up to Prowl's, filled with startled question and affront at the abrupt stop.
"There is no reason for you to experience the rest." Prowl murmured softly.
"Because I hurt you?" Bluestreak asked bluntly.
Prowl shook his helm. "You did not cause actual damage and the discomfort inflicted was not intentional."
"Then why?" Bluestreak demanded.
Prowl carefully considered him. "Those incidences did not affect our relationship and are not associated with your inquiry." Prowl paused, eyeing him. "Is it something you truly feel the need to see?"
In that moment, Bluestreak realized Prowl was not trying to spare himself. Prowl was trying to spare him. He looked down, his doowings drooping. "No."
Bluestreak was surprised when Prowl lightly touched his shoulder with two fingers. Through the hardline, Bluestreak felt the same warmth and affection he had felt that time Prowl had synched with him to get the memory of creators a vorn ago.
Feeling his former outrage evaporating and becoming increasingly aware that this time he was the invading presence – and that he was still holding Prowl against the mat - Bluestreak released a vent. "Is that all you have to show me?"
Shame so deep it hurt washed across the hardline connecting him to Prowl as the older Praxian averted his gaze. "No. This happened when Megatron attacked Iacon."
What followed was different than anything Bluestreak had ever experienced. His attention, focused through Prowl's memory, was mainly on several overlapping strings of data. Most of said data was rather incomprehensible to Bluestreak, both because of its complexity and the speed with which it was being processed. Meanwhile, the rest of the world was… not quite blurred, but relegated for automatic systems to process.
This was a memory of Prowl doing his function, Bluestreak realized with an awe-filled lurch of his tanks.
Bluestreak could not fathom the sheer amount of data that was flying past his awareness at lightning speeds – and he could tell just how much of Prowl's focus it was requiring. Even though the memory was not his own, Bluestreak felt distinctly vulnerable with so much attention focused inward and he understood now why a kick-aft fighter like Prowl still had a protection detail when in the field.
Then he became aware of the physical sensations of pain imbedded in the memory. Prowl had been injured when he had performed this particular analysis. Several deep lacerations and even imbedded shrapnel along his backstrut and door wings. Battle damage.
Something from the computer he was synched with caught Prowl's attention and for the briefest of moments that one stream of data precluded all else. Bluestreak might not have been able to accurately translate the data in that momentary instant on his own, but he felt Prowl's immediate understanding of what it meant.
Hot, terrible shame burned through him as Prowl realized that Megatron had used one of his own plans - a plan developed to assault Iacon - to destroy Praxus. Shame built into fury and Bluestreak cried out in the physical world as he felt the sharp tearing agony lance through Prowl's processor in the memory he was sharing.
How Prowl managed to stay online Bluestreak did not know, remembering how much a more minor fragmentation had dropped him to his knees in an incomprehensible mess.
Right before the memory flicked off, Bluestreak felt the powerful processor of his guardian rallying, raw determination somehow holding the pieces of his shattered mind together.
Once the memory was shut off, Bluestreak focused on Prowl in the physical world. The older Praxian's armor was tight to his frame, his vents working to cool his systems. And understanding hit Bluestreak like a blow to the doorwings.
"That's what caused you to crash, isn't it? Realizing that you had helped Megatron destroy Prax…Praxus."
Bluestreak felt the slight vibrations of the an unvocalized keen through the hands that still held Prowl against the dojo mat by the collar strut.
Bluestreak shook his helm. "You didn't know…"
"Does it matter?" Prowl's optics flashed. "You wanted to know if I was personally responsible for your creator's deaths." He looked away and all tension left the older mech's frame and the firewall trapping Bluestreak in Prowl's processor collapsed. "You have your answer."
Bluestreak stared down at Prowl, his own processor reeling.
Bluestreak waited for the anger and sense of betrayal he had felt earlier to return. Prowl let him think, not making any move that would pressure him to do anything or not do anything. But the raging emotions did not come back. Instead there was only a burning sense of loss. The loss of an idealized image of his guardian. And perhaps even the loss of the close relationship he had once had with Prowl.
Prowl moved then, reacting to Bluestreak's confusion and pain across the one-way connection and Bluestreak felt the older mech's arms close around his shoulders, pulling him into a tight embrace. It was an unusually sentimental move for Prowl to make and Bluestreak could sense Prowl's akwardness through the line linking them. But it was exactly what the youngling needed. And that was why Prowl did it.
A shudder shook Bluestreak's frame as the reality of just how much Prowl had sacrificed to care for him – even now – sank into his understanding. Bluestreak remembered Prowl's sacrifice of an energon ration to get his language upgrade. And now he had just sacrificed his pride.
Prowl's arms tightened around him.
"Why didn't you just tell me?" Bluestreak whispered brokenly.
In answer, another memory was highlighted. Hesitantly, Bluestreak opened the memory and experienced it as it unfolded.
Bluestreak saw himself as a sparkling on the eve of the mission that had ended with Prowl being put on reduced energon rations what seemed so long ago. He watched as his youngling self asked that question. This time, however, Bluestreak felt the internal battle inside Prowl. In the end, however, he was aware of one thing: Prowl had known the answer would drive him away. Prowl had delayed answering because he knew Bluestreak would no longer want him as a guardian. And, regardless of anything else that might have influenced the decision, Prowl had wanted him to be an adult before that happened. It might have been a selfish idea, but it had also been another sacrifice.
"I was afraid." Prowl answered out loud once the memory replay ended.
Bluestreak trembled against Prowl's armor. Prowl, seemingly unshakable, unflappable Prowl, had been afraid. Afraid of him.
After a long moment Bluestreak withdrew to the edge of Prowl's mind then he remembered the lines of code he had fragmented earlier and was struck with a sudden urge – a desperate need – to help right that wrong.
"The damage was minimal, Bluestreak." Prowl answered whatever it was he felt through the hardline.
Bluestreak flinched. Perhaps the damage was 'minimal' but it was also the only damage he could hope to fix. Except he did not actually know anything about fixing fragmented coding. But he wanted to do something because he knew that the other damage he had done to prowl was not something he could ever expect to heal.
Once again, Prowl seemed to sense his thoughts and the younger mech was suddenly treated to a quick succession of emotional snapshots that let him feel just how Prowl appreciated his role as Bluestreak's guardian, how he had strived to be worthy of that role, and how much Prowl did not want to loose the relationship they had built even as Bluestreak continued to mature. It was a desire – no longer built on guilt or grief – but one that came out of Prowl's spark. Following quickly on that was the awareness of a wave of resignation and understanding licked by sadness.
"I will not push you. You are an adult in most respects and there are other able mentors available to you…" Prowl started, still speaking softly, though he trailed off.
Prowl did not say it, but Bluestreak could feel that, despite what he had just done to older Praxian, Prowl wanted to retain at least a friendship. And yet Prowl was leaving that up to Bluestreak as well.
Prowl had offered a complete explanation and that was exactly what Bluestreak had received. He had been treated to a very intimate view of Prowl's emotional state. He knew how much strain that must put on Prowl's processor. Yes, on considering that aspect, Bluestreak could identify the tale-tell indicators of that strain throughout their recent interface.
Abruptly Bluestreak sat up, letting Prowl right himself as well. "I should have let you explain without jumping to conclusions." Bluestreak murmured, unable to meet Prowl's gaze.
"It would have been easier." Bluestreak could feel the rueful humor buried in those words and his frame heated with embarrassment. With a cycle of his vents, Bluestreak reached for his cord but Prowl's hand came up and stopped him with one finger.
"It might have been easier, but it might have also left you with lingering concerns." Prowl told him gently but firmly.
Bluestreak's vents flared as he sucked in a sharp vent of air at sensing Prowl's clear relief. Relief both that that the confrontation was over and that Bluestreak did not despise him. But more than that, there was relief to finally have cleared the air between them completely, regardless of the consequences.
Bluestreak could not stop the tiny smile that licked his faceplates, knowing that his own relief was washing back over the hardline to Prowl. "I'm glad I was wrong. Even if that means I feel bat that I put you through all of that and that I was really, really rude to you and all. And that I hurt you. I really shouldn't have done that, I know. I was acting like a sparkling, but I'm not a sparkling and…" He forced himself to stop rambling and then to meet Prowl's optics. "I'm glad I was wrong."
Prowl lowered his hand and dipped his helm in acceptance. Without thinking, Bluestreak lowered his own helm so that the base of his chevron rested gently against his...Guardian.
"Thank you Bluestreak."
Bluestreak smiled, relaxing. He basked in the warmth of his Guardian's affection.
They stayed that way for several astroseconds before Prowl cleared his vents. "Bluestreak."
Just wishing he were still in his sparkling frame and could curl up against the warmth of his Guardian's spark, Bluestreak merely sent a short glyph that he was listening.
"You can remove your cord now."
"Oh!" Snapped back into reality, Bluestreak's frame flushed with heat as he fumbled to do exactly that. Once his cord back in storage he caught Prowl rubbing at his temple plating. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be." Prowl looked at him, then clasped his shoulder with one hand. "One-way connections are uncomfortable. You warned me as much."
Bluestreak relaxed, seeing the barest tip of Prowl's lip plates though he shook his helm. "You knew that going into it, didn't you. I know you did. You have done so much for me Prowl and… I'm really sorry I reacted like I did and treated you so horribly. I really shouldn't have. I know that. I'm sorry."
The hand on his shoulder tightened briefly, "I know that. Bluestreak…" Prowl Hesitated as if he was not sure how Bluestreak would respond. "All I ask is that you learn from this and try not to repeat this particular mistake again."
"Oh, I will, I will. I promise." Bluestreak hesitated this time. "I guess you know that the Twins came down here with me."
"Indeed. Their particular spark signature is quite distinct." Prowl's expression turned rueful. "I am grateful you insisted they remain outside, even if you gave them permission to watch us through the monitor."
"How…?" Prowl twitched his doorwings by answer and Bluestreak slumped. "Right." Bluestreak pressed his lip plates together. "What would you have done if I had insisted they come in?"
Prowl looked away. "They would have come in and it would have been significantly more difficult to ignore the audience. But otherwise, I cannot accurately estimate how things might have gone differently."
"You would let me… even with them?" Bluestreak could not help but stare at Prowl.
Prowl's doorwings twitched and, for some reason he covered the armor gauntlet of one forearm with the opposite hand. "I offered you the explanation you wanted, I did not specify the conditions in which that offer would be fulfilled." Prowl released a slow vent of air and looked at him squarely. "There is one thing more I need to address."
For some reason the tone in that sentence made Bluestreak's tank's churn. "Yes, Prowl?"
"Bumblebee."
"Bumblebee?" Bluestreak cocked his helm, thinking about his best friend and in doing so remembered their last interaction. And with that memory file he also realized how hurtful he had been toward the younger mechling and his tanks felt like they dropped all the way to his pedes in growing dread. "Oh no."
"Yes." Prowl was looking at him thoughtfully. "I do not know the details of what happened between you. Nobody does except the two of you, but I do know that Bumblebee was hurt badly."
Bluestreak's tank went from feeling like it had dropped out of his chassis to feeling like it was being squeezed in a vice. "How badly?"
He really did not want to know, feared the answer by the concern and worry he saw in Prowl's optics, but knew he had been acting immaturely lately and knew it was time to stop such behavior.
"Bad enough that he has been either unwilling or unable to speak."
"He hasn't told his guardians what happened?" Bluestreak was confused at why Bumblebee would protect him like that after he had been so rude and hateful to him.
Prowl shook his helm. "He has not spoken at all."
"Not… at all?" Prowl shook his helm. "Bumblebee…"
Prowl stood and offered a hand, pulling Bluestreak to his pedes. "Both his guardians and I firmly believe that if anyone can help Bumblebee at this point it will be you. You must seek to do so."
Bluestreak started trembling again. "But… how…?"
Prowl shook his head. "Not knowing what it is that he needs, I am unable to give you a definitive answer. However… you were able to tell me what you needed from me. Perhaps Bumblebee will be able to tell you what he needs from you."
"Right." Bluestreak cycled his vents, his doorwings quivering. "I have to go to him and… and talk, try to… I'm not really sure. I need to apologize, that I do know. I was angry and I said some mean things, but I was angry at you not at him. But he… he defended you and said you were a good guardian and I just… I lost it. I didn't hurt him. Not physically, that would have been wrong. But I said… Oh, Prowl…" A keen cut his words off. "I… I need to go now.
"Go to him." Prowl commanded.
"Yes, yes, that's what I'm going to do. Oh, Prowl, what if… No! Why did I have to be so stupid? Bumblebee was never anything but kind and encouraging and helpful. Why… "
"I am not the one who needs to hear these things." Prowl cut off his ramble gently, one arm on his elbow escorting him toward the training room door. "Bumblebee is. Please, learn from my own mistake and do not wait to deal with this issue."
Bluestreak's vision swam as lubricant welled in his optics. He blinked the excess fluid aside and nodded, "I…I'll go see him now. Thank you Prowl. For everything."
Prowl merely nodded and opened the hatch.
Surprisingly, the Twins were still there. They looked between the two Praxians warily.
"Everything alright, Blue?" Sunstreaker asked, his tone carrying all manner of warning as he looked at Prowl.
"Oh. Yes. Prowl was… that is, I was wrong about what happened and why it happened and, well, just about everything." Bluestreak looked anxiously back at Prowl to see how he was taking the not so subtle threat. "You saw… Prowl let me in his head and, well, I understand what happened."
"So, everything is alright between you now?" Sideswipe asked.
"Yes." Bluestreak nodded as firmly as he was capable. "Yes."
"Alright then." Sideswipe held his hands out open as if trying to show he was not a threat and stepped away. "Looks like you don't need us anymore."
"No!" Bluestreak stepped toward them, reaching a hand out imploringly, then glanced at Prowl, knowing his guardian did not particularly care for these two mechs. "You guys were really great. I mean, we can be friends, right?"
"I guess that depends on what your Guardian says now, doesn't it?" Sideswipe's words dripped with challenge, as did the way Sunstreaker's engine rev.
"For all that Bluestreak is still young, he is, for all intents and purposes, an adult now." Prowl addressed the two front-liners in bland tone Bluestreak knew well. "He may choose his own friends, which apparently he has done with the two of you. And, apparently, you cared enough about his wellbeing to come here with him, a concession to decency I admit most would not believe you capable of. You have also proven to me that there is more to your attitudes than mere antagonism and perhaps even more depth to your character – as hard as it is for me to admit that – than you routinely let on. So long as Bluestreak does not start to pick up your less desirable character traits I will not attempt to forbid his interaction with you."
"R-right." Sideswipe looked like he had just been told that the Prime was really an organic organism pretending to be a mech. Or that he had seen a frameless spark wondering the halls. The silver mech looked at his brother. "Did Prowl just say that?"
"Our audios must be glitched. It sounded like he did." Sunstreaker growled, stepping toward Prowl. "Do you take us for fools?"
"I have never taken you for fools, Sunstreaker." Prowl answered, seemingly serene in the face of the snarling Sunstreaker. "Arrogant, condenscending, overconfident, shortsighted, rude, stupid and perhaps even dangerous to your own side as much as the enemy, but never fools."
"I think you called us fools once. Or something like that." Sideswipe pointed at him.
"When you were blindly driving into an obvious ambush." Prowl acknowledged, "And while you have caused untold havoc with your mischievous ways you have proven to me that you are not the criminals you were before the war."
They just stared at Prowl blankly, then looked at each other.
"Did he jus say that?" Sideswipe asked.
Bluestreak glanced at Prowl to see the barest hints of amusement on the older Praxian's faceplate and realized Prowl was enjoying getting a rise out of the Twins.
"Our audios are definitely glitched." Sunstreaker muttered, shaking his helm then turned away. "I think we need to go by medbay and get a full maintenance check. I hear Livewire and that other cute femme are on shift today. See you Blue."
The golden mech grabbed his Twin's arm and propelled him down the hall, away from the training room and, presumably, toward the medbay though even Bluestreak knew there was no guarantee that was where they were actually going.
"You enjoyed that." Bluestreak observed quietly as he and Prowl watched them go.
"Immensely." Prowl admitted, his optics glinting with otherwise invisible humor.
They shared the moment until both warriors were out of sight, then Prowl looked at him again. "You still have something you need to do."
"Right. Yes, sir." Bluestreak nodded, started to walk away but stopped and turned back toward Prowl and hesitated a moment longer. Then, before Prowl could object or Bluestreak could change his mind, he darted forward and gave the older mech a tight embrace. He felt Prowl stiffen, but knew for certain it was not personal.
"Thank you, Prowl." Bluestreak told him mentor again and then forced himself to walk away.
All the way to Bumblebee's quarters Bluestreak tried to reherse what he was going to say to his friend, all the while doing his best not to let trepidation and anxiety get control of him. But he wanted the words to come out exactly right, wanted to avoid saying anything else that would hurt his best friend.
He had just settled on what he thought would be the best way to phrase the apology and plea for forgiveness when he arrived at his destination. With a somewhat shaky hand he signaled a request for entry. He was still gathering his nerve when the door was finally opened.
Everything he had prepared to tell Bumblebee disappeared from Bluestreak's processor as, instead of his friend standing there, it was a big black meck who still out-massed him even in his adult frame. Bluestreak instantly knew he would not get a chance to talk to Bumblebee unless he was able to convince this mech that he should be allowed to do so.
The older mech's engine growled at the sight of him and Bluestreak was barely able to squeak out a pathetic greeting. "Uh…hello Ironhide..."
I know everyone was anxiously waiting to see what I'd do with Prowl and Bluestreak. I'm sure a good number of you were worried I'd find some new and ghastly way to torture poor Prowl. Gosh. I know I beat Prowl up a lot...even though one might argue he does it to himself as much as the others do it to him... but I'm not that mean. ...well, not most of the time. Although, I am curious as to what ya'll think Bluestreak should go through in his quest to help and make things right with Bumblebee.
Thanks again to everyone for their thoughts and prayers. I can say that though there are still moments when it is tough, for the most part I am feeling more like myself again, though I still miss my mother dearly. Even so life goes on, with or without me and I am once more fully eager to be part of life again. Thankfully now I am also learning to once again consider the past with fond enjoyment along side the sadness that comes when considering pleasant memories as opposed to just the pain of loss and grief that once clouded even good memories. I want to encourage anyone who is suffering the loss of a loved one that if you move through and face the pain and grief, rather than run from it, the grief does indeed become easier to manage and endure. Joy can and will come back into your life if you let it.
