"This makes, what, eight times we've pulled your afts out of the fire now?"
Bobby Epps' tone was deliberately boastful. Swinging his legs over the edge of the berth, leaning forward so the human was bathed in the glow from his blue optics, Sideswipe rose to the bait.
"In what universe?" he huffed, letting the breeze from his vents ruffle the soldier's uniform. "I think your processor has melted."
A rumble from Ratchet was sufficient warning. Sideswipe lifted his legs back onto the berth, settling back against his pillow before he tested the medic's already over-stretched patience. Epps, and Lennox sitting beside him on the edge of the next berth, glanced at Ratchet too, their playful banter momentarily stilled.
It was Sunstreaker who eased the tension.
"I don't believe this." Sunny's optics were dim. His vocaliser crackled a little, although Sideswipe was far from sure the humans would notice. Sunny managed a good impression of his usual sarcastic drawl as he caught his brother's optics. "This fleshling is including war games."
"Hey," Epps raised his hands in protest. "Those are serious training missions."
Sunstreaker snorted, shaking his helm. Sides tried not to worry that his twin's optics flickered, and that the yellow warrior swayed as his balance sensors failed to adjust to the movement.
Lennox was shaking his head, oblivious. "Well we're going to have at least a few more refresher sessions now." He smirked, glancing sidelong at Sunstreaker. "Letting yourself be caught by humans? Really, Sunny?"
"Let's see how they come out next time!" Sunstreaker's scowl was not in the least feigned. The strength behind it was false in its entirety. Sunny's swaying was becoming more pronounced, stubborn pride and a grip strong enough to leave dents on the edge of the metal berth the only things keeping him upright.
Sideswipe glanced at Ratchet. He hardly had to. The medic was already moving forward, wrench in hand.
"Visiting hours are over." His optics flicked from Sunstreaker to Lennox with a frown. "Don't you have something you should be doing?"
The banter and forced nonchalance in the air thickened and became sour. Lennox and Epps had taken barely ten minutes out from the on-going search to visit the recovering twins. It had been a few minutes to unwind, to take the victory they'd earned before returning to a struggle they still barely understood.
Sideswipe knew Ratchet knew that, and knew that the worried medic didn't care. Given the waves of exhaustion spilling through his spark from his unsteady twin, Sideswipe wasn't going to push the point either. He nodded an acknowledgement – soldier to soldier - as his human friends climbed onto Ratchet's offered palm for a lift back to floor level.
"Thanks." It was all he said, all he would say about all that had happened, and Sunstreaker backed it up with a nod.
Epps tapped his brow in a silent salute. Lennox gave a nod of his own, his expression wry.
"Just don't expect me to say 'any time'!"
The human clambered down to the ground, pausing to look up. He dropped his voice, talking to the medic rather than his patients.
"We're doing our best."
Ratchet vented a heavy sigh. "I know."
The door was still closing behind them when Sunstreaker dropped back to his berth, his pride and pretence only stretching so far. The yellow clad warrior's optics dimmed, his systems straining in a harsh contrast to his usual fine-tuned purr. Sideswipe could feel his brother's frustration, and the ripple of embarrassment that lay under it. He could feel the concern too.
Sunstreaker's optics flickered, faint but alert, frowning up at the medic checking on him.
"They won't find him."
Ratchet huffed a sigh through his vents. It had been almost three hours since Sideswipe woke to hear his argument with Prime, and an hour before that – as far as Sides could work out – when Prowl's absence was noted. It wasn't long, in the normal course of things, but they all knew these weren't usual circumstances.
"You just lie back and power down." Ratchet shot a glare across at Sideswipe including him in that instruction. "You both need recharge, while I figure out how the frag I'm going to get you retuned with this primitive equipment. Let Prime worry about our slagging tactician." Ratchet frowned, his servos drumming across the plating of his folded arms. "Which, for Primus' sake, is what you should have done in the first place."
Sunstreaker didn't have the energy to argue, and Sideswipe didn't have the will. They'd at least half thought the same, right from the start. The other half though…
"They won't find him." Sunstreaker waited until Ratchet retreated to his office, data pad in hand, before broadcasting the thought for his brother's audios only. "Not a chance. Not 'til he's ready."
Sideswipe lay with his servos folded behind his helm, the glow of his optics lighting the ceiling. A restless energy was building inside him. Truthfully he felt pretty good. He was fairly sure that if he'd been the only one injured, Ratchet would have kicked him out already. It was Sideswipe's need to be close to his damaged twin that kept him from doing so, and kept Sides himself from making a bid for escape. And that was a problem.
"You think you know how Prowl thinks better than Prime?"
"No… Yes… Well, maybe." Sideswipe's thought was probably not even that coherent. Sunstreaker didn't need words from him. The red twin let his ideas seep between the bond between them, letting Sunny see the quiet, dimly lit room that kept returning to his thoughts.
"First place Prime'll have looked." Sunstreaker vented hard, unimpressed.
Sideswipe shrugged glancing sidelong at his brother. "That's kind of the point."
"You're sure." Sunstreaker's voice echoed through their sparkbond, putting words to his brother's thoughts. Sideswipe glanced at him, torn, uncertain. The light had faded from Sunstreaker's optics as his systems worked to rebuild their power reserves. Now they flickered back to life for just long enough to reinforce his blunt command: "Go."
The underground chamber was dark and cool.
The air here was still, untroubled by breezes or the forceful ex-vents of native organisms.
It was clean too, the pollutants and organic detritus of Earth's atmosphere filtered out before entering this entirely Cybertronian space.
Calm, peaceful, it was utterly divorced from the rapid pulse of organic heartbeats that drove the world above. No human map showed this place. The soldiers of NEST must suspect it existed, somewhere close to base, if not actually within its boundaries, but if so they respected the Autobots' silence.
There had been many such crypts, many mausoleums built in the course of their long war. They littered the Universe and each stood like a silent accusation, a memorial to a species set on its own destruction.
And now it was Jazz's frame that lay still and cold within, like so many others across the long years.
An intricate casket surrounded him but didn't hide the reality that lay within, the dull metal of his sparkless form glimpsed through geometric piercings and fretwork. Glyphs covered the surface in elegant patterns, giving Jazz's full designation, his rank, his history and tale after tale of heroism and valour.
The soft illumination of blue optics picked out the details, individual glyphs seeming to glow from within as they caught the light.
Brave. Humorous. Loving. Strong.
Sideswipe's engine faltered, his vents stuttering as he stepped into the room. As Optimus Prime had, a few hours before, he stepped forward, laying a hand on the metal lid above Jazz's chest-plates and bowing his helm in silent contemplation. He stepped back, head still bowed, and only then looked around the dimly lit chamber.
At this point, Optimus had sighed, glancing back at Jazz's empty frame with a grieved expression before leaving him in peace. Sideswipe hummed, expression thoughtful. His finger servos drummed against plating that still carried a shine Ratchet had worked long and hard to achieve.
His legs folding under him, the warrior dropped to sit by the side of the casket. It might have been a sign of exhaustion, the physical strain of recent days catching up with him. The hint of smug certainty on the front-liner's faceplates suggested otherwise.
The first hour passed slowly. The second was well advanced before a second pair of optics lit in the darkness, and another armoured form settled to the ground beside the first.
Sideswipe nodded, his deep voice a little gruff.
"Thought so."
Prowl inclined his helm, his optics still focussing as they adjusted to the shift from ultraviolet to visible light.
"I am impressed by your perseverance."
Sideswipe glanced at him sidelong. "And surprised?" he challenged.
"No. I know you better than that."
Sideswipe nodded, accepting the truth of Prowl's statement. There was no need for greetings, for thank yous or other words – of joy or surprise or anger. Those went unsaid. Once they'd just been commander and commanded, confidences between them as unwanted as they were inappropriate. That was a long time ago, even by the standards of Primus's children.
The vorns of banter, of jokes and punishment, of socialising under Jazz's forceful guidance, of battle orders given and executed… the vorns of shared survival… they made all the difference.
They might not be friends, not precisely, but neither questioned that they were close.
If Sideswipe felt the tickle of Prowl's sensors, assessing his health in silent concern, he didn't mention it. Prowl was equally stoic when the front-liner's far less sensitive scanner array returned the favour. Sideswipe scowled a little, gazing into nowhere, and then shook his helm.
"I figured you'd be doing the same thing Jazz taught me about pranking – don't be in the last place they look. Be in the first. Just don't get caught." Sideswipe settled himself, his arms supporting his back as his legs stretched out in front of him. "Got to admit, I'm still kinda puzzled over why."
The question was a fair one. It deserved an honest answer.
"I needed to think."
Sideswipe gave him a sidelong look, optics wide and disbelieving. "And for that you risked the wrath of Ratchet and turned half the base upside down?"
"It's been a long war."
Prowl's observation fell into silence. His door-wings hung heavy behind his back, his optics locked on the casket that held his bondmate's frame. He shook a little, merely being this close to the reality of his loss painful.
Sideswipe let the silence stretch out, thinking about it. It wasn't like he didn't know that. The humans they worked with would hardly comprehend how long it had been since Prowl and Sideswipe had even seen one another, let alone since this whole mess started.
"We've all come a long way," he offered eventually.
"Not far enough." That was firm, harsh, almost angry. "We fight our way across the universe. We fight on Earth. And even when all is lost, all is gone, we fight on."
"And you're wondering why?"
"The AllSpark is destroyed. Our cities lie in ruins. Those we love have returned to the Matrix. What is there left to fight for?"
Sideswipe's vocaliser hummed, his servos clenching and unclenching with disquiet.
"Megatron's still out there. Decepticons…"
Prowl's sidelong glance was unimpressed, his door-wings flaring in disgust.
"So we're going to fight to the last mech? Go on until Optimus and Megatron take one another's sparks, standing atop a pile of our broken frames?"
"If that's what it takes." Sideswipe stood, his optics bright. "'Cause, Prowl. It's not about us any more. Okay, so the AllSpark's gone, and yeah, maybe we're the last. We've lost our chance." Air huffed from his vents, condensing in the cool chamber. "Can't imagine the rest of the Universe is going to grieve all that hard to see us gone. But you know fragging well that if we hadn't stood up when we needed to, that universe would be a fragging different place. Maybe we're not going to have a generation of new sparks running around the place, but we've got the humans, and… and how many others? Slag, I can't even remember all of them. Do you reckon Megatron would have left any of those poor fraggers in peace, if we hadn't been there to protect them? Do you reckon the humans would survive even half a vorn if we all lay down now and gave up and took a quick trip back to the Matrix?"
The warrior paced, his expression unusually serious.
"Look, Prowl, I don't know what's going on in your processor." He raised a hand, giving the plating over his spark an unconscious rub for comfort. "I… I don't want to imagine what's going on in your spark. I can see you've got Ratch pretty freaked, even if he's not talking."
The front-liner paused, letting the silent question hang in the air for several seconds, unanswered, before shaking his helm and going on, his voice rising with every sentence. "Whatever the frag is going on with you, I reckon Ratchet can probably keep you alive if you let him. If you walk away from that chance… well, that's your choice, and I can't second guess it any more than Optimus can. But don't you dare tell me that it's not worth going on. Don't you dare say that we've lost so much, so many, and it wasn't worth it! Don't you fragging dare tell me Jazz and the others died for nothing!"
Prowl swayed back from the irate warrior, his expression weary and pained.
"And does Sunstreaker agree?"
Sideswipe came up short, his optics cycling in surprise. "What?"
"I saw his art. I saw him searching for meaning, struggling to capture life and movement and purpose because he'd lost his own."
Sideswipe rocked on his pedes. The warrior became quiet, his attention turned inwards and in to the bond he shared with his twin. His systems sounded harsh to Prowl's trained audials, still not fully recovered from his ordeal, even if the twin was clearly more than functional. The warrior sank back to sit against the wall. His expression was stricken, anxious, his questions for Sunstreaker searching. The conversation took time, the ups and downs of it playing out on the warrior's expressive faceplates.
When Sideswipe spoke again, it was with the echo of his twin in his voice.
"Okay. Right. You're right. Searching, yeah, and finding." He shook his helm. "Look around you, Prowler. Not in here, but out there – life teems on this planet. Life teems through the whole slagging Universe. Sunny was seeing it even if I'm too dense to see a pulsar when it's in front of me." Sideswipe paused, scowling. "Yeah, thanks Sunshine." He shook his helm, refocusing on the quiet tactician in front of him with a scowl equally intense. "So even if we don't leave new sparks to take our place, don't tell us we've not left a legacy. Each day our sparks keep burning, we're saving lives. Okay we're kinda fragged off with a human or two at the moment, but even Sunny knows better than to blame the whole slagging race." Sideswipe's passion ebbed. He glanced sidelong at his commander. "And then there's you."
Prowl shook his helm automatically, caught up in Sideswipe's intensity despite himself. "I find it hard to believe my circumstances could play a role in anyone's search for meaning."
Sideswipe nodded, his grin a little wry. "Yeah, we know. But you came when we needed you. You didn't have to. You knew it would land you in a whole lot of no choices. And you came anyway." Sideswipe shifted when he sat, his shoulder nudging Prowl's seemingly by chance. "We kinda appreciate that."
Prowl paused. He glanced sidelong studying the warrior in the dim light. He looked away, his optics returning to Jazz's casket. Not even that could still the memories playing through his processor.
"I tried to find you, when Cybertron fell. I would have taken you both in my search party, if I could. I wondered for many vorns what became of you."
Sideswipe's optics brightened, his expression betraying his surprise for a long moment. He shook his helm. "Slag happened. No one was thinking straight in that whole mess. But we got out. And we got here. And there are mechs here we kinda care about. And there are humans to protect. Millions of them. So we keep going, and some of them learn about some of us, and one day there's gonna be a whole new people heading out among the stars. And, just maybe, they'll be taking a little bit of us with them."
"Even if we're not here to see it?"
"Prime's not going anywhere." Sideswipe settled back more comfortably, his brow-ridge raised as he studied the mech in front of him. "And, I guess, if you are then you'd better be planning on having a couple of travel-mates."
Prowl frowned at the front-liner, his expression startled. He knew how close the twins were to Ratchet, and how devoted they were to Optimus Prime. The idea that they might leave both behind had simply never occurred to him. "Sunstreaker needs care and recuperation."
"For now." The mech's cynical chuckle was a reminder – if Prowl needed one – that he was no longer a youngling, and that he and his brother were forces to be reckoned with. "You really think you can get enough of a head start to keep ahead of us?"
"The two of you have specialised medical requirements and are sufficiently well known to represent high priority Decepticon targets. It would be illogical to take a separate path from Ratchet now that you have reunited from him. It would place your sparks at unacceptable risk."
This time Sideswipe's laugh held a note of genuine humour that almost hid a growing weariness "Did you actually listen to what you just said?" He held up an arm, angling it in the light of their optics. "The way Ratch has me shined up I can be your mirror if you need one."
Prowl's mouth opened. Closed. He shook his helm, trying to parse the suggestion.
"I'm sparked." Prowl couldn't have explained why he told them, let alone why then and with so little warning. Maybe it was the reminder of their mutual need for Ratchet's care. Maybe he just needed to hear it said aloud. "I am carrying Jazz's infant."
He stood, his door-wings unfolding and flaring behind him. Moving around the stunned Sideswipe, he lay first his hand and then his helm on the cool metal of Jazz's casket.
"My bondmate is not here. Our child will never know his father, even if I can bring him to term." His door-wings fluttered against his back, his faceplates twisting. "Most likely, my sparkling will die before he even becomes aware, his passing long and drawn out and marred by my pain. Even if he survives, what then? Will he be the last? The lone Cybertronian wandering the Universe like the ghost of a lost people? Wouldn't it be kinder to give up the fight now? To let us both pass in peace?"
It was the first time he'd articulated the thought, even to himself. It horrified him, static choking his vocaliser as the words escaped. Giving up had never been in his vocabulary, or Jazz's. Allowing a sparkling to die would have been unthinkable to them both, least of all one of the rare infants born of a spark-bond. To do both at once…
He wouldn't have blamed Sideswipe for walking away from him. Instead, he flinched, startled by the warrior's touch on his shoulder.
Sideswipe's expression was drawn, pained. There was horror in his expression, true, but also something Prowl hadn't expected to see: joy.
"You're carrying a sparkling?" Sideswipe reset his vocaliser on the last word. "Truly?" He shook his helm, and a low chuckle escaped him, gladness swelling in his expression. "You and Jazz? That's going to be one awesomely unpredictable infant."
Prowl frowned, rubbing his chest-plates, taken aback by Sideswipe's reaction.
"It will be years before I am strong enough to nurture this sparkling to term, maybe vorns."
Sideswipe rolled his optics, his tone deliberately nonchalant. "So you've got him in stasis right? It's not like he's in any hurry."
"I may well not survive long enough. If my spark extinguishes before the sparklet becomes independent…"
"Like Ratch'll let that happen." Sideswipe shook his helm, his confidence growing in synchrony with Prowl's own confused irritation. The warrior took a step forward, the humour fading from his expression, the sincerity clear. "Listen, Prowl, how many mechs spark in their lifetime? One in a million, one in ten million? You know what the chances were against it, better than anyone. Second guessing why isn't going to help. Slag the why. The only thing that matters is the what. Primus has given you, and the whole slagging lot of us a miracle. And, yes, it's going to be hard, and yeah, you're going to need a slag load of help." He leaned forward, the grip on his Prowl's shoulder tightening. "But, bottom line, Prowl, you know damn well there's not a chance in the Pit you're going to let that gift go to waste."
It was true.
The realisation might have been a hard one. The hesitation he'd shown on the edge of the system and the long hours he'd spent here, contemplating their fate trying to decide whether he could endure staying on this world, had been for nothing. The months of internal debate, of fearing that Prime and Ratchet would take the decision out of his servos when he reached them, had been little more than a mental exercise.
He'd found Earth and made the descent. He'd rejoined his friends, his colleagues and his Prime. He had sought out his medic's aid, and conserved his systems to the best of his ability. He'd done all that and never realised his actions were pre-ordained.
For all his soul-searching, the decision had never been his to make. It had been taken from him almost two years before when his bondmate cried out to their maker, and Primus heard his prayer. The twin's ordeal, coming precisely when Prowl most needed a push to follow his only course, was nothing more than a gentle reminder of that fact.
He straightened, standing in front of his mate's tomb. A weight might have been taken from his shoulders. He still worried for his infant, struggling to visualise a future for the child. He still feared his own weakness. But now the burden of choice had been lifted from him, replaced by faith that the product of his love and Jazz's would be watched over and cared for, whatever came.
Slowly, he reached out. Transforming a digit into a sharp claw, he pressed it into the soft metal of Jazz's casket. The accent he added was a subtle thing, barely visible, but it was enough to transform the common glyph for 'deeply loved' into the far rarer and far more intimate "bondmate". Their bond had never been acknowledged in life. In death, it had left an unmistakeable legacy. Flattening the claw, he laid his servo on the tomb, seeking strength.
"I'm not sure I can do this," he whispered the words, his other servo hovering protectively over his chest-plates. "But I have to try."
"Yup." Sideswipe stood close beside him, close enough to offer comfort with his strong field. "And you can do it if anyone can. We're pretty slagging certain of that."
He reached out, gripping his commander's shoulder in support. There was silence for a moment. Then the red-clad warrior winced, rubbing the side of his helm, as if compensating for aching audials.
"Ah… well, if we've got that settled, and while we're on the topic of things only you can do… Sunny says Ratchet's not exactly impressed with either us right now, and believe me, I'm paraphrasing there. I don't know how the slag we're gonna talk our way out of this. Any chance you could think of a way…?"
Prowl's door-wings hitched higher. He reached behind him, running his fingertips along the top of Jazz's tomb, both in farewell and promise.
"I'll do my best," he agreed.
"I don't believe this." Lennox rubbed his brow wearily, his words flat. "We find Sunny, and lose Prowl and Sides?" He scowled. "Did someone install a side door in medbay and just not bother telling us?"
His sarcastic tone did not go over well. The whine of Ratchet's saw blade left no one in any illusions about how he felt about it. The medic stood on the threshold of medbay, its door handle grasped firmly in his servos. Sunstreaker was still recovering, not up to expeditions of his own, but if he so much as thought about absconding too, he would find Ratchet ready for him.
In fact the whole base was on high alert. Given that the same had been true before Sideswipe's escape, and for the full two hours since, without sight of their wayward mechs, that was hardly a comfort
Optimus Prime rumbled, his clenched fists betraying an unusual degree of tension. He'd called for his core unit to join him at the command gantry for a review of the current search. Ratchet had told him exactly how he felt about being ordered away from his one remaining patient. The alcove just outside medbay was a compromise and not a good one. Ironhide had remained at the gantry, monitoring each report as it came in. It still felt crowded with Optimus, Bumblebee and Ratchet squeezed into the confined space, not to mention Lennox and Epps at ankle height, hyperaware of the Autobots' too-close pede-falls.
The deep throb of Prime's engine rumbled a counterpoint to Ratchet's saw. "Sunstreaker is still claiming not to know of his twin's actions?"
Ratchet snorted. "What do you think?"
Epps' brow creased. He ran a hand back over his smooth scalp. "That's a good thing right? I mean Sunny wouldn't keep quiet if Sides was in deep slag?"
Bumblebee warbled an amused sound. "Not unless he thought Sideswipe deserved it."
The humour fell flat. Optimus Prime vented deeply, the wash of air warm against the humans' skin.
"Sunstreaker's contentment is indeed a source of comfort. However, given the situation, I will remained concerned until both Sideswipe and Prowl are once more under Ratchet's care."
There was no arguing with that. Lennox nodded. "Okay, recap: we're pretty sure they didn't drive off base – they're probably still pretty close. So let's start from the beginning – how the frag did they get out of medbay without being seen?"
"Ah…?" Bumblebee might be young but he was part of the core command group – one of the few who had been with Prime throughout. He was also one of the very few mechs to have much training from Jazz – less thorough than Prowl's, of course, but rather more formal than Sideswipe's mid-prank tuition and collection of hints and tips.
The scout was pretty irrepressible most of the time. Even so, Lennox hadn't expected him to speak up so soon after the silent rebukes for his weak joke. 'Bee shifted, his winglets flaring uneasily. "About that side door…"
"You're kidding!"
Bumblebee's winglets wilted, his vocaliser choking into an inarticulate warble as the sharp optics of both superiors skewered him and Epps' cry of disgust rang off the metal walls. He reset his vocaliser with an audible click, standing his ground.
"Well, not exactly… But I can think of a couple of ways Jazz could get in there… or out, and Prowl and Sides're both pretty good at stealth ops."
"Show me." Ratchet reached out, grabbing Bumblebee's arm with a grip that wasn't going to loosen before his medbay was secure. The medic palmed open the door with his free servo, using his hip to bump it wider. Prime moved to reach past him, holding the heavy steel door so Ratchet could manoeuvre their scout into the room.
Ratchet and 'Bee took two steps into medbay and stopped. Close behind them, Prime stopped too, a startled murmur escaping him. Lennox and Epps exchanged a look, taking on the constantly moving obstacle course of Cybertronian pedes as they darted past.
Sunstreaker had gone nowhere, the monitors above his berth glowing in soft amber and green as the mech recharged.
Sideswipe lay on the same berth, curled against his brother, red plating vibrant against yellow. And on the far side of the room, against a wall where he felt more secure, Prowl lay on his side, recharging as deeply and with the same perfect innocence as the twins.
Bumblebee staggered, unbalanced as Ratchet's hold on his arm was abruptly released. The medic spared the twins no more than a glance, his focus almost entirely on the taller, door-winged mech beyond them.
He scanned Prowl closely, both with his internal sensors and studying the readouts above the berth. Reaching out, he snagged an energon drip and connected it, unsurprised when the tactician's optics lit and he squirmed with a soft murmur of discontent.
Ratchet's servos moved quickly, the medic in no mood to spare concentration on his berth-side manner. It was a few seconds before his shoulders slumped, releasing their pent up nervous energy. His scowl deepened.
"Where the slag have you been?"
Prowl's optics cycled slowly, lazily. He frowned a little, his door-wings trembling against the berth.
"Ratchet? I have no idea what you mean."
Lennox sucked in a gasp. Of all the answers he'd expected that was a long way from top of the list. Ratchet stared at his patient, for once rendered speechless. His grip on the wrench he held tightened. His vents caught, and stuttered.
"You have no idea what I mean?!" Ratchet's tone would scorch paint at a hundred yards. Prowl's optics cycled through a blink of perfect innocence. Ratchet's frame straightened, the medic pulling himself up to his full height, his vocalisor whirring with pent-up energy.
Just inside the room, Prime unfroze, striding forward to his lieutenant's side. Ratchet deflated, his momentum checked as Optimus Prime brushed past to stand between him and the supine tactician.
"And if I asked you for an honest answer, Prowl?"
Prowl tilted his helm, optics meeting his Prime's. "Then I would be dismayed that you chose to question my first response."
Whatever passed between them in that look, Lennox couldn't follow it. It seemed to last an eternity, and to carry the weight of worlds. The tension built, Prowl's blatant lie trembling in the face of his Prime's scrutiny. Lennox wasn't sure who was more surprised – him or Ratchet – when it was Prime who broke the tableau. Optimus Prime vented a small sigh and then just nodded.
"Then I shall not ask."
"Optimus!" Ratchet's protest was silenced as he too met his Prime's optics for a long moment. His reaction was far less calm than Prowl's.
The medic threw up his hands, his mutters subsiding into harsh sounding Cybertronian as he crossed the room to subject Sideswipe and his brother to set of scans of their own.
Prime nodded to Bumblebee, waving him back. "Please inform Ironhide of this development. No further action will be necessary."
Amongst the humans of NEST, there would be arguments, recriminations, debriefing and discipline. Even with Prowl, Lennox could insist on it – the terms of their treaty allowing for enforcement of rules across species boundaries. He didn't have to talk to his co-commander to realise Optimus Prime's way was better. Yes, there would be discussions, as appropriate and when time allowed. Ultimately though, Lennox trusted, like so many others, in the compassion and understanding of the mighty Prime.
He nodded, but waved Epps back with 'Bee nonetheless. Prime might think this mess was over, but Lennox was well aware of how much disruption the search had caused, and how much would need fixing. The major himself stayed, taking the moment to enjoy the sight of all three of their errant bots safe and secure. He was the only one close enough to hear Prime's low murmur.
"Prowl, are you alright?"
Prowl shifted, the flutter of his door-wings betraying his discomfort as the energon supply pulled slightly. He shook his helm.
"No, Optimus, I'm not." The mech gave his Prime a faint smile, his optics dim. "But, with your support, I will endeavour to be."
A tension drained from Prime's frame, his relief apparent. Prowl nodded an acknowledgement that the emotion was somewhat justified.
"It may be some time before Ratchet releases me to fully resume my duties."
"I will wait." There was no hesitation in Prime's assertion. If anything, his tone actually verged on playful as he went on. "Just be aware that I require my medical officer too. While I recognise the temptation to drive Ratchet out of his processor while confined in his presence, your restraint would be welcomed."
"I shall take that under consideration." Lennox had seen a Cybertronian smirk just once – on Jazz's faceplates after taking down a Decepticon marauder. He saw the faint shadow of it now on Prowl's. "No promises."
Prime smirked back. He squeezed his second's shoulder with a careful pressure, and treated a half-awake Sideswipe to the same treatment on his way from the room. Shaking his head, baffled anew by both the similarities and the differences between their races, Lennox followed.