Author's Note

you can't have your cake and eat it too.

Just for reference (and because I've never really given ages) Red Alert is about 13 during this chapter and Prowl is 9.


"Mr. Firestorm, your son was not at school yesterday." Said school's strict principal started sternly over the rim of his glasses at the red and yellow Praxian.

Firestorm straitened in his seat. "I am fully aware of that." He was not pleased with being asked to speak to somebot at the school because of something his creation had or had not done, and just because he was on leave from the office didn't make it any better. If it wasn't asking-what his teachers considered-inappropriate questions, it was zoning out in class (Firestar still didn't understand why the school couldn't just move him to more advanced classes, if Red Alert were challenged then he wouldn't lose interest in a lecture), or… other things that he just didn't understand there being a problem with.

"You are aware that he is now well over his allotted days of absence." The principal, Thorn, removed his glasses and set them before him. He looked less stern and more exasperated with them off.

Firestorm stared fixedly at Thorn for a moment before replying. "I am aware that this school has rules in place for attendance; these restrictions are to help students stay caught up in their studies. My creation could hardly be doing better in his classes and he has had my permission for each time he has not attended school. I don't see what the problem is." He really didn't and this just went to show how the Praxian way of doing things was so much preferable to the Iaconian way.

"Listen Firestorm." Thorn leaned forward. "I have tried to be considerate of your heritage as a Praxian and that you want to raise Red Alert in the way of your people, but there are laws in Iacon that I just can not ignore. Given your son's record at this school, it won't be long before someone starts asking questions. I don't want that kind of attention brought no my school and 3I'm sure that you don't want it on your family either. Something is going to have to change, and it can't be school policy." He interlaced his fingers before himself on the desk, waiting for the Praxian's response.

The red and yellow mech was very still. His eye's locked with Thorn's. "I do not appreciate you telling me how to raise my creation." He slowly stood. "I have tried to follow the rules of Iacon while still raising my creation in a way worthy of his heritage." Turned toward the door. "I will take into consideration what you have said, but we are Praxian." Left Principal Thorn's office. Red Alert was waiting for him just outside, eyes downcast into a cyber-security datapad. Without a word, he scrambled to his feet and hurried home after his creator.

Red Alert desperately wanted to ask his sire why they'd had to go to the Principal's office, not so long ago he would have, but he knew better now. Insteed, he knelt silently by his creator's side on the decorative rug that usually hung in Firestorm's room. He'd been told in very plain words that tonight began Tiid Fan Stilte, Time of Silence, and Praxian tradition required they spend the next three days in communion with Primus as they went through the daily rituals.

The day before, Firestorm had kept Red Alert home from school and given him a datapad with the firm instruction to read it and learn the rituals it taught. The 'pad was all about Tiid Fan Stilte. It explained how the tradition had come about way back in the early days of Cybertron when Primus had told one of his mouthpieces to worn a wayward clan that if they didn't return to Primus they would be destroyed in the coming storm season. The mechs and femmes of the clam had rejected Primus' words until the storms were upon them, at which point they'd turned to the mech of Primus and begged him to save them, that they would forever follow Primus if they survived.

Red Alert couldn't help but laugh at that point; the whole story was just so ridiculous he didn't get how anyone could believe it. But he did need to get through the reading before Firestorm got home, so he got back to it, though he still giggled at the impossibility of it all.

The mouthpiece had told the clam members that he alone could not turn back the ill-will of a deity, but with their help the storms could be pushed back (as if any bot could control the weather!). According to the story, everyone had gathered together and, lead by the mech sent by Primus, had knelt in the wild elements to beg up unto Primus for him to forgive them of their waywardness. After three days of doing nothing but beseeching the angry god, the storms had subsided back down to their normal levels. And that was how the Tiid Fan Stilte tradition began!

Red Alert laughed to himself, thinking about the story. It had been more unbelievable than the stories Firestorm read every evening before bed from the big old datapad about the beginning of Cybertron, and less subtle than the tells about misbehaving creations that his sire would telling before punishing him for something. How anyone could take this whole ritual seriously after reading that story was beyond him.

The rest of the 'pad hadn't been so funny.

Red Alert shivered in his spot next to his rather, who prodded him in the back every time he slouched even a little in his kneeling position. This celebration was held doing some of the coldest days in Praxis and, part of reminding the mechs and femmes involved of the physical struggle the clan's members in the story had to go through, houses were opened up to the elements and there was no heating aloud. Since Iacon never really got cold, Firestorm made due by covering the winds with black sheet metal and turning the house's climate control to as low as possible. So, Red alert had to kneel by his sire, trembling and shuddering in the frigid room as they slowly chanted supplications to Primus for any time they may have gone against his will.

It was probably about sunset on the first day-it was hard to tell without light from the windows-when the first round of praying stopped. Firestorm stood, reaching a hand out to help Red Alert to his feet as well. The mechling felt so stiff he wasn't even sure if he could stand on his own. Together they began walking to another part of the house Firestorm had prepared for part of the ritual. Normally, this next part would have been conducted by the oldest in an extended family in a special building, blessed and set apart for such sacred events. Since Firestorm knew of no other Praxians in Iacon who participated in Tiid Fan Stilte-Rainbow surely didn't-he had to make do with what he had.

"It is time for the purging of the spark." The Praxian took a ornate flask of a glowing fluid from an elaborately carved shelf and turned to face his creations.

Red Alert really wasn't looking forward to this part.

"Hello, this is Morning Glory. How may I help you today?" Said purple femme was sitting at the reception desk as she idly chipped away at some mundin tax files.

"Yes, I was wondering if Firestorm was in today." The voice of a mech replied.

She set down her stylus. "No, I'm sorry but Firestorm has taken the rest of the week off. If you like, just leave your name and call back number and I can have him contact you as soon as he's in again." Because she certainly wasn't going to interrupt his time away from the office for any reason. The handsome Praxian didn't take enough vacation time as it was.

"Oh no, it's fine." The mech replied. "Do you happen to know if he's still in the city?"

"He probably is." The divorce lawyer stopped before she let her mouth run away from her. "That's all I can tell you sir. Have a nice day." She ended the transmission.

"Rainshower, please." Rainbow reached out for her bondmate arm, vainly trying to stop him from marching through the gate that gave entrance to Red Alert's home. "This isn't going to help anything."

The green mech pulled out of her grip. "No 'Bow, stop defending him!" The construction mech pushed open the gate. "You didn't see him. You didn't see the marks on him!" Rainshower jammed his pointer finger against the door chime, repeatedly.

"Rethink this dear, please." Rainbow grabbed his arm again. "All this is going to do is drive the wedge between Firestorm and us deeper. He's a Praxian. He's only going to see this as an attack. They're a Praxian family and-"

"No they're not!" He was have a hard time keeping a lid on his temper. "Red Alert was born here in Iacon. He is not Praxian! I've stayed silent for years about this because you say that. But today was the last straw."

"Please, don't-"

"Shut up!"

Rainbow's door wings flattened against her back. Head lowered, she backed off, hands clasped before her as she moved to stand quietly behind her bonded. She had been raised in Praxus. She was a Praxian femme. Praxian femmes knew their place well. But that didn't mean this didn't hurt her.

The door slid open. Firestorm stood glowering before them, his arms crossed and feet plated. A highly annoyed set of optics clashed with an angry one.

"Your repeated intrusions into my life are not enjoyed." The words dripped scorn.

"You can't raise your son like this!"

Firestorm took a step forward, flaring out his door wings. "I am free to raise my creation the wayI see fit. This city allows me to keep the traditions of my home city." He took another step forward, almost standing toe-to-toe with the other mech. "I do not try to control the way you raise your swarm of creations." Rainshower bristled at the way he said that. "You can at least pay me the same courtesy."

A red helm slowly poked around the edge of the door frame. Drawn by the sound of angry voices, Red Alert looked out at the three bots on the porch. His armor was still scuffed and dented from the various rituals in Tiid Fan Stetle. He'd been about to start repainting when Firestorm had gone to answer the repeated chiming from the door. His pale blue optics looked confusedly between the two glaring mechs. He was still low on energy after the whole cleansing stuff he and his sire had done and he couldn't really make sense of why Prowl's sire was here.

Rainshower gestured at the mechling. "Look at him! You can't honestly believe that this is healthy." Red Alert took a step back, looking as though he were ready to run back into the safety of the house at a moment's notice.

Firestorm didn't even turn his head. "Get. Off. Of. My. Property. Now. Before I comm the enforcers." His optics were dark, hands balled into tight fists.

With an angry growl, the green Iaconian backed off. The look in his optics said it all. He might have lost this battle, but he had no intention of losing the war. There was more than one way to kill a retrorat.

"Let get one thing straight Mr. Firestorm." The perky little femme seated across from him started. "If there is a good reason for you to keep custody of your son, I will be your best friend and asset through the trial ahead of us. Conversely, if I find reason for him to be removed," here her voice lowered and she leaned in closer, "I will be your biggest enemy. Because I'm hear to find the best solution for an innocent child; my loyal it to him and no one else." She leaned back, smiling again, tone lighter. "Well then, shall we begin? First I'm going to need copies of all the reports from every time you taken your kid to see a medical professional for any reason."

Firestorm's foot twitched. "Why?" They were on the ninth floor of the Social Services building and he wasn't in a good moon, not a good mood at all.

"To see if he's been receiving the proper health care of course." The femme, whose name badge announced her as Lickity-Split, chirped happily as she pulled a thin datapad out from one of the drawers in the desk they sat at. "Don't worry though, I've created a list of all the documents I'll be needing from you. I just want to go over everything with you first so that you know what to expect."

The Praxian grumbled to himself as he accepted the 'pad. He wasn't stupid. He could read the list and find what was needed-if he had it-without this Lickity-Split going over everything. He didn't want to offend the femme whose testimony and research would decide if he got to keep his creation or not, so he sat quietly as she went over everything in great detail.

He didn't want to lose Red Alert.

"Hey Red Alert?"

Prowl's voice was hesitant as she slowly slid open the door to the room his friend was staying in. He didn't really get why the older mechling was staying some place farther away, he had to drive with one of his parents for half an hour to get to this strange house, but his parents told him that it wasn't going to be permanent. They said that soon Red Alert would either go back to living with his father, or else go some place else entirely. Prowl's father had actually sounded like he thought the latter was the better option, when he'd seen his youngest creation's shocked expression, Rainshower had quickly knelt to his level as asked him if he liked the idea of Red Alert coming hand living with them, maybe for ever. He liked that idea very much.

"P-Prowl?" The older, but not much taller, mechling looked up from his spot on a very padded chair. His optics were large and really light, Prowl had never seen them so close to white before.

"Hi." Prowl stepped into the nice little room, putting on his best smile. Rainbow had told him he needed to be strong for his friend right now before they'd entered this big building.

Instead of answering, Red Alert scrambled down from the chair, dashed over to Prowl and locked him in a hard embrace. "I've missed you, I've missed you so so much." The red and white mechling trembled as Prowl returned his hug.

"I've, uh, missed you too." He really had, though, this sudden discovery of physical contact was a little disconcerting. Despite having been friends for years, the only time Prowl could really remember Red Alert touching him was the day they'd first met.

Red Alert pulled back. Four years his junior, Prowl could already look him straight in the optics. Rich blue optics stared at almost white ones as they flicked to different points around the room.

"Do you want to play a-a game?"

"Sure." Prowl smiled. "What do you want to play?"

"From the information presented," the almost pure black mech sitting at the desk before them was saying, "I'm gonna have to say The State's case stands and the child must be removed from his sire and given over to the city of Iacon to care for."

Firestorm clenched his servos. How? How could they be taking his creation away just because he was trying to keep to his cultural heritage alive? He didn't let his anger show though. He was still Praxian after all and must remain calm until he could return home and calm down.

"I think that'll be all." The black mech rose. "Dismissed."

"Excuse me!" Rainbow ran down the hallway, calling to the quick little case worker Lickity-Split.

"Yes?" The short femme turned around, waiting for the other to reach her. "Can I help you?" She smiled broadly.

"Yes, I think you can. I have a question about your case with Red Alert. I was-"

"Oh, the case is already settled." At least it was a friendly interruption. "In favor of the state, which, personally, I am very happy with."

Rainbow's door wings rose happily. "I'm glad to hear it too. But, I was wondering if you could tell me the best way to patision for adopting Red Alert." She smiled hopefully.

"Oh." Lickity-Split looked away for a moment, happy-o-meter falling. "I'm sorry to say that that won't be an option for about a year. Legal processing and all that confusing stuff." Here she paused. "And even when he could be adopted, I doubt you'd be allowed to be the one to take him home."

Rainbow's optics darkened with confusion. Lickity-Split fumbled to explain. "Well you see-the problem is you-it's just that-no offence, but you are Praxian." She gave an embarrassed grin, then zipped off. Leaving the door winged femme standing stock still in the hall, mouth hanging open.

Red Alert gulped as he stared up at the building he stood before, some lightly colored social worker was right behind him, prodding him to step forward. Nervously, he did so until he stood right in front of the door. He tapped his foot anxiously as the mech behind him rang the bell, clutching his small bag of personal items to his chest.

The door lid open, revealing a brightly smiling mech and femme. Red Alert squinted up at the bonded couple as they welcomed the social worker and him into their nice home. He didn't like their smiles, they looked far too much like all the other smiles he'd seen since they'd taken him away from his sire and home. The mechling was tired of seeing all these smiles. One, they were never real, but face ones that the mechs and femmes plastered on to look friendly. And two, there wasn't enough in life to be happy about to warrant such a wide smile. Red Alert glared up at the couple as they introduced themselves as Starlight and Quickhaul-smiles still attached and everything.

"We're going to be like your new creators while you're here." Starlight, the femme, told him in a way too friendly voice as the social worker left the house. "You'll have your own room upstairs, right next to our's. Would you like to go see it now?" She reached out to take his servo.

'No.' But Red Alert didn't say that. He didn't tell her that no, she and Quickhaul were not going to be like his new creators, because no bot was going to replace his sire. He mightn't have like everything they did, but they were family. He didn't say that, just as he never said to any of the social workers just how much he hated them for taking him away from everything he knew. Oh no, he never said any of the stuff he thought of, because that wasn't what they wanted. They all just wanted him to be a good little mechling and be ever so grateful to not have to life with his sire anymore.

"Y-yes." He barely got the word out past his vocalizer.

"Wonderful!" Starlight smiled even wider down at him. "We're going to get along so well together. We'll be a great family, just you wait and see." She began leading him up the stairs.

No they weren't. Red Alert was sure of it. His chance at as 'great family' was destroyed the moment his carrier, Nightbird, walked out of his life.


Well, we've come to the end (for now). Sorry to anyone who was hoping that Prowl and Red Alert got to be brothers. It just couldn't happen.

Now, although 'Time's Supposed to Heal You' is over, it does not mean this is the last you get to see of little Red Alert and little Prowl. This world will most likely be the one I do many of my idle dabbles in, and since I have more planned for the two, you will definitely see more sometime.

And now my friends,

Adieu.