A/N: A continuation from the 'Scared Bluestreak' bonus. Don't worry anti-slash fans – you don't need to read the previous chapter to understand this one. Season 1 timeframe, before the addition of the other Autobots.

On-His-Knees

The lights blinked countlessly. Teletran-1 went online and offline in synchronisation. Even the recharge-berths stuttered.

"Wonderful," Huffer growled and picked up another Cybertronian tool. "As if that battle with the Decepticons right inside our base wasn't enough, one of Wheeljack's whacky inventions just had to go and explode on us as well, didn't it?" He strained his vision as his light levels kept changing.

"Aw, cheer up, Huffer! It could be worse; I mean, at least we have some power and the damage isn't like it's unfixable, y'know, and it's not as though Ratchet has any patients down there in a critical condition now, is it?" Bluestreak smiled his gracefully childish grin. Though Huffer did not feel it, some of his connections relaxed slightly.

"Still… Wheeljack's invention did more damage than the Decepticons! Did you see what it did to Sunstreaker's paintwork? He'll be going on about it for days!" The lights dimmed to a faint beam and the intervals between illumination and darkness became longer. "Ah, I need to get to the engine room: change about some of the feeds for a bit. You work on in here without me."

"Gotcha. Have fun and hope it doesn't take you too long now!" Huffer snorted and, true to his name, huffed off.

Bluestreak giggled and shook his head as the door closed behind the temperamental minibot. Bending down, he took up the tools that Huffer had left behind and began work. It had been a difficult battle – the shots inside the Ark had either meant hits to an Autobot's body or hits to the surrounding computers and machinery. Fighting in tight spaces had been strenuous – attempting to take the fight outside even more so. Even though the Decepticons had faced despairing odds, Megatron and his troops had fled only once they had reached minimal energy to take them back to base. Now Bluestreak loved Wheeljack: he was the happy sort that never failed to cheer him up. He always had time for others, despite his busy inventing schedule, and he never meant anyone any harm. But sometimes the amount of times his inventions backfired really put a strain on his relations with the other crew members – even with Bluestreak. And the timing of this invention's dynamic extermination could not have been worse.

Trailbreaker walked in. He kept moving his right wrist up and down, back and forth, testing the degree of freedom the repairs had given him.

"Need help?" He looked down at the gunner and the tools sprawled across the floor.

"Well, it's not very difficult and I'm sure I could complete it by myself, but as the humans say: 'two pairs of hands are better than one' and the job would go quicker… if you don't mind that is." Trailbreaker responded by dropping down to Bluestreak's level and picking up the tools.

"What do you need me for?" He winked – which was more a quick head tilt for a mech with a visor. Bluestreak pointed to the damaged wires and a welder.

"Let's get those sorted." He looked at Trailbreaker, who, for some reason, was grinning away. He seemed to be in a very happy and playful mood.

"Got it." The power in the light filaments failed again and for a moment, the two mechs were thrown into shadows. It was then, in that quiet black echo, on his knees, Bluestreak had a flash from his past. He saw red optics only metres away from him – optics that he would rather not remember. They were right next to him! Sight and shapes and colour returned just as quickly as they had fled. Something felt wrong. As Bluestreak turned his head towards Trailbreaker, he noticed the concerned expression on the other mech's face. "Blue… what's wrong?" Bluestreak realised he was gaping fearfully at the other 'bot. A pulsating sigh dripped from his lip-components. He abruptly went back to repairs. "There's nothing to worry about, you know. I'm here."

In once final display, the illumination fluttered, guttered, died. And Bluestreak was alone in that darkness once more.

"Ah, the lights have gone again!" Bluestreak squeaked, his voice finding unused heights.

" But you're not alone Blue!" The voice grasped him roughly and pushed him against his chassis in a choking embrace. Bluestreak was back in the slums – back there with that Decepticon. The darkness strangled him, pushed heavily down. Strength was felling his systems.

"No! No! I won't let you have me!" He fought and kicked and screamed. "Let go! Let me go!" He could hear footsteps – others were coming! Others who might hurt him too!

"Blue! It's alright Blue!"

"No!" Bluestreak felt out and found a tool lying nearby. He raised it high into the black and thrust it down into his captor's thigh. Trailbreaker screamed out as sparks flew from his body. The grip relented and Bluestreak took his chance to be free. He ran. He ran through the shape-filled dark and tripped and stumbled away from the voice and the horror and lost himself in dust-stirring memories.

"Bluestreak! Come back, Blue!" He ran and the voice faded. The footsteps were gone.

"Bluestreak?" Prowl had rounded the corner near the bottom of the Ark, his only light-source his headlights. Some of the equipment down here had been converted to use the heat-source of the volcano as a power-supply. Huffer was still having trouble restoring power to the lighting; most of the Ark was still resting in shadow. In amidst the darkness, there the Datsun lay, down a small, unused corridor, staring into a dim little floor light. Prowl paused long enough to feel the relief inside him swell. Bluestreak had been found. "You scared Trailbreaker, Bluestreak – not to mention harmed him. What happened?" The gunner lay there in silence for another minute more. Just as Prowl thought he would have to prod the younger mech again for a response, Bluestreak spoke.

"I don't want to remember, Prowl," the raspy whisper called. "I don't ever want to be taken back there again." Prowl did not fully understand the meaning of Bluestreak's comment – he knew that many things had happened to Bluestreak back on Cybertron that would scar any mech's psyche, yet he knew none of what had specifically happened to Bluestreak. Prowl picked Bluestreak up onto his knees and felt him convulse in his touch. The 'bot would not look at him and still had not taken his optics from that dim little light. Prowl wrapped his arms around him and did not speak until Bluestreak embraced him too.

"Bluestreak, we're here for you. We may never understand fully, nor be able to take your fears away, but we will look after you." Prowl paused. "You will never be alone again. Trust me, Bluestreak. I'll do everything I can to make sure they never hurt you again." It was painful. Bluestreak's grip tightened as he felt the pain of some of that memory escaping his mind, becoming reality. Yet he knew that once this feeling was over, that pain had slipped from his memory forever. Although he would always carry that memory, as long as he had Prowl and the others, it could never harm him again.

End.

A/N: It occurred to me that Cybertron could save a bloody fortune on electricity bills if they stopped lighting all those unused corridors near the centre of the planet. That's why they all have that energy problem now – too many lights left on at night.

There will now be a brief two-week hiatus in fics as real life takes control.