That had always been one of his greatest fears, burying his brothers.

Prowl would never admit it, but he was always scared, always hesitant to send his brothers out onto the front lines. He knew, however, that they were in war and these actions had to be decided by someone.

Now it was even worse, for he had three mechs to worry over. Though Jazz hardly ever allowed any fussing over him.

Every time he returned scratched or banged up he would simply kiss his lover and laugh it off.

At times Prowl would dream of the death of his brothers or lover and it would almost be impossible for him to force his eyes open. Whenever Jazz would wake up beside him and ask what was wrong, the SIC would simply dismiss the question and continue on with his work.

Prowl knew that Jazz was worried about him working himself to death, and considering how he rarely went into recharge anymore, for fear of never waking up.

He knew that not only his lover but everyone on the base was worried about him when he looked up at the mech he least expected to see walk into his room.

"Hello Prowl," Smokescreen walked up to the desk. His face was carefully neutral, but he could hardly hide the consternation at having to be there.

"What can I do for you Smokescreen?" Prowl's reply was stiffly polite and withdrawn.

"I've heard that you're not going into recharge lately, and you're over working yourself. Would you like to tell me why?"

Prowl's hand stopped working on the pad. He slowly placed the stylus down and looked up at his elder brother. The tension was palpable in the air, and both felt the waves coming off the other.

"I had not realized that I had asked for a therapy session today?" Prowl said with stiff politeness.

Smokescreen's neck twitched in annoyance and his optics narrowed at his younger brother.

"You may not have, but there are some interested parties who wanted me to come talk with you," Smokescreen said, matching the tense air with his tone of voice.

Prowl sighed and returned to filling out the pad.

"Jazz and Bluestreak, I suppose," it was not a question.

Smokescreen tilted his head back and stared down at his brother.

"Everyone on this base is concerned about your health," he said, his voice was growing low and dangerous.

Prowl did not even glance up at his brother, "You can inform these interested parties that there is nothing wrong with me and I am fine, good day Smokescreen."

Prowl had expected Smokescreen to shout or even perhaps punch. What he had not expected, was for him to simply shake his head and walk away.

Prowl's optics narrowed in confusion and...hurt as his older brother gave up on him and walked out. The stylus shook in his hands and he suddenly felt uncontrollable anger. He shot up and pitched the little writing utensil across the room, where it shattered into a million pieces when it slammed into the wall.

With deep drawing breaths he panted and leaned over his desk until he felt everything building and moving to erupt.

He slammed his fist down and screamed at the top of his lungs, letting out all of the pain and hurt and fury in that one primal let go.

It ended quickly and he collapsed into his chair, painting.

He covered his optics in his servos and cried.

"Well, what did he say?" Bluestreak asked with ernest hope.

Smokescreen had barreled past the group of mechs and into that rec-room, he sat down with a huff.

"He refused to listen to me," he growled.

The others gathered around with Jazz and Blustreak standing directly across from him.

"Come on Smokescreen, you could've tried harder," Jazz insisted, "You're the only one that he would even listen to."

"No he won't, I am the last mech he would listen to! Besides, if he wants to run himself into the ground, see if I care," Smokescreen had hissed.

Everyone had gone quiet and Bluestreak walked slowly around the table. He stopped right in front of his oldest brother and slapped him.

There was a sharp intake of air and everyone froze. Not one thing moved or even dared to breath.

Smokescreen slowly raised his hand to his cheek, his mouth hung wide open.

"Blue-"

"How dare you even think that you don't care about Prowl. He's your brother, and you have a responsibility to take of him and make sure he's safe," Bluestreak practically yelled.

Everyone in the room was utterly taken aback, no one had ever heard Bluestreak yell like this. Smokescreen was almost tempted to get up and leave, he could not handle all of this emotional stress, but he knew his youngest brother needed to get this off his chest.

"So what he cut us off?! So what?! That does not mean you can just give up on him and forget about him or stop caring," Bluestreak got right up in his brother's face, "I know you still care, and what do you think Carrier and Sire would say if they saw you treating him like this?"

Smokescreen felt his own anger building and finally explode. He shot up and stood nose to nose with his brother.

"You think I don't know that, but he will not let me help him! I've tried talking and being patient but nothing is working. He's broken and messed up Bluestreak, and you know it!"

Tears ran down the younger's faceplate, "No! He's not! He's not broken!"

"Yes I am," a soft voice said from across the rec-room.

All optics turned to see Prowl walk further into the room, with slow and deliberate steps. His face was empty of all emotion, or so it seemed. To his brothers and to Jazz his pain and hurt at hearing those words from his own family was obvious.

"Prowl...," Jazz took a tentative step forward, his hands raised in a way to almost comfort the other mech.

Prowl, however, subtly stepped out of reach and clenched his hands behind his back. He refused to look at any of them, despite the slight upwards tilt of his head .

Bluestreak seemed to be near to running away, but Smokescreen's face reflected horror.

"I simply came to inform Jazz that he has a mandatory check up with Ratchet in one orn," Prowl said and with slightly hurried steps he left just as he had arrived.

Jazz shot an angry look at Smokescreen and hurried out after his lover.

Smokescreen sat down in his chair with a pained sigh and hid his face in his servos. He refused to look up, even as he knew his brother had turned to him with an accusing glare.

"You need to make up with Prowl," he said.

Smokescreen sighed again and shook his head, "He won't listen to me."

"Make him," came the simple reply, "if we lose Prowl because of this, then I will never forgive you." With that, Bluestreak stormed out of the room and back to work.

"Fine," Smokescreen whispered and rose to follow his brother.

Jazz had met him at the door to their shared room and looked as if he was going to stop him.

"Please, don't hurt him again," he said quietly.

Smokescreen had half a mind to tell him to shut his mouth, because he was the brother and he should be the one telling him that, but he knew that was not fair. He had not been a very good brother lately and he knew that.

Instead, he simply nodded and went inside.

To his surprise, Prowl sat at his desk, his head in his hands, a reflection of his older brother, only moments ago. He did not look up, even though he had heard Smokescreen enter.

"Prowl I-"

"You were right, you know. I am broken," he looked up and Smokescreen nearly cried at the raw desperation that was in his optics.

"I need you to understand that I can not let either of you in. I am so sorry, but I-I just can't," his voice trailed off into a whisper, "If I knew you were experiencing what I am, then... I think I would lose my mind."

Smokescreen felt his spark flicker at the utter pain and desperation in his little brother's voice. He walked slowly forward and enveloped him in a great, awkward hug from across the desk.

"I know, and though I can't claim to understand it, I can at least try to accept it. What you are doing and have done was for a reason, I know, but I still worry for you," Smokescreen whispered. "You are my little brother after all, and it is my job to protect you."

Prowl gave a shaky laugh, "I-I will take that."

"Prowl...I am so sorry," Smokescreen's grip tightened, "I never meant to hurt you, I'm just so worried about you... I need you and Blue to be alright, to make it out of this war alive. I only hope you can forgive me for the terrible way I've been acting."

Prowl laughed and they separated, "Of course I forgive you, brother."

Smokescreen smiled, "You know that I am so proud of you...right?"

"Yes."

"Good, now get some rest, Prowl," Smokescreen said and he left, understanding that there was nothing left to be heard or said.

Jazz was waiting anxiously on the other side and nearly ran into him as he exited.

"It is done," he said.

Jazz sighed in relief and moved to enter the room only to be stopped by a servo.

"Take care of him...he is very precious to me," Smokescreen's voice was no more than a whisper.

Jazz stared at him, but nodded all the same, "I promise I will," and he entered the room.

Smokescreen was left alone in the hall and wondered what the future held for his small family. He gave a quiet sigh and a shake of his head and he parted with only with four words.

"I love you, brother."