I swear this is it! This is really the ending! I divided the ending into three chapters for reading ease, especially the send chapter (hence part 1 and part 2). I didn't want to cut stuff out since many of you have stuck it out, waiting for me to complete this for over a year. I appreciate it and didn't want to short change you.

Not for the first time in less than two decaorns, Prowl onlined in a quiet medbay. However, unlike last time, his backup systems didn't activate like before. Prowl was immediately alarmed since crashes usually generated some immediate activity from his systems upon onlining. His alarm only escalated when he realized he couldn't move, locking him in a horizontal position on a berth.

"Ya know, I'm always telling Sideswipe and Sunstreaker that I've rebuilt both of them so many times I know the in and outs of their every system and piece of structure," Ratchet's voice cut in, disrupting the worried tactician's thoughts. "That's true for at least half the crew. You," a finger appeared in Prowl's vision as the red digit was jabbed between his optics, "are not part of that half. I always considered that a good thing, but it turns out there is one bad thing about you rarely being one of my stress factors – I don't know your systems as well as I think I do. You have no idea how hard that is to admit, by the way."

Prowl felt Ratchet reach behind him and was both surprised and chagrined to feel Ratchet prop him up into a sitting position. "Why can't I move my legs or arms on my own?"

"Because I'm not letting you slip away asI yell at you, oh no," Ratchet practically purred, "you will sit here and listen to everything I have to say."

"Why did you move me into a sitting position?"

"Because I want to yell and rant at you while looking straight at you, not down at you. It let's me have so much more fun because I can rant as wildly as I want without having to stay in place."

Prowl raised an optic ridge in response to Ratchet's unusual tone that held a certain amount strain. He had a suspicion that Ratchet was going to "let him have it," as various Autobots said when describing these moments. He became even more suspicious that he was correct the moment he realized that he was feeling fear.

"I'm so happy you and I have a few moments. And believe me, after I realized what happened, I damn well made sure we'll have a few moments. Wheeljack is standing guard on the other side of the medbay doors right now with some gadget that looks like it'll explode if you look at wrong." Ratchet moved to stand perfectly in front of Prowl, glaring intently into his optics. "Wanna say anything before I start? Because I don't intend to let you get a word in edgewise unless I ask for it."

Prowl considered what his options were that would get him into less trouble. To his horror, his logic center wouldn't activate.

"I see you're trying to use your logic center to figure the best way out of this. Well too damn bad Prowl, because I got these really cool toys that won't let you," Ratchet announced, almost too gleefully.

"Ratchet, I think in light of that, I should – "

"Time's up! Now it's my turn!" Ratchet's cheerful voice cut Prowl off. A cheerful voice that could only be described as a masquerading calm before the storm. Like Ratchet was enjoying Prowl's unease before he cast down an unholy wrath upon Prowl's spark. Prowl's core temperature dropped a few degrees when Ratchet returned to glaring into his optics. "You know, when I saw you at our last appointment, I was worried about you. To the point I was openly nice and caring. Guh! Do you know how wrong that felt? That's not the usual me but I thought, 'poor Prowl, he needs help because bad stuff is happening to him and blah blah blah.'

"Now I come to find out that the latest bad stuff that happened was actually because you did it yourself! Is it your goal to die without caring about it or what you're leaving behind? Because if that oh-so-cute program you developed hadn't failed as soon as it did, that's what would've happened after it was done killing you!"

Prowl's optics widened and immediately he tried to protest.

"No, shut up, Prowl! You will not interrupt me on this!" Ratchet nearly bellowed as he threw his hands up. "Do you know what those 'annoying little emotional circuits' control? Everything we relate to feeling in our own systems, from emotional need to physical need. Things like pain and hunger. I'm sure if you had it your way this would be two completely different systems, but believe it or not, this stuff is processed through one system for a reason. It helps you prioritize better. If you feel fear and pain at the same time, the system analyzes everything related to the cause of each and helps determine which you should focus on. It's meant to help us stay level-headed and focused in tricky situations. It's all about efficiency and survival, especially in this crappy war."

Once again, Prowl tried to comment but was promptly ignored as Ratchet continued on. "Sure, a mech like you who hates that icky fuzzy feeling of – oh I don't know, love – would like nothing better than to turn it off on the battle field. You know why no one has that function? Besides being a vital tool in making calls during the heat of battle, it also helps assist with what you can personally handle. I wonder if there's a good example for this," Ratchet trailed of as if to ponder an idea. Once again the irritated tactician tried to speak up only to beaten to the punch.

"Oh I know! Let's say someone skips his energon, figuring there's nothing wrong at operating at 80% power," Ratchet paused to give Prowl a dirty look before he began pacing around, as if describing a purely hypothetical situation. "I mean, why would there be? If you just do desk work, you could work for an entire orn and only spend up to 20% of that power. Except oh damn, looks like Megatron and his stupid minions are attacking some human city and now you'll be under-fueled for battle. Perhaps you can drink a cube on the way out? Oh wait – there's no way to drink it on the way while you're in alt mode. Well what about drinking it after you get to the battle field? Should you hide out and drink it or ask good ol' Megs if he'll call a truce until you can get your lunch? Let's see… if you hide then you can't do your job, not to mention it isn't easy to hide a bright pink cube amongst hungry Decepticons. What about Option Number 2? I think the chances of that working are on par with convincing Sideswipe to put on a pink fluffy dress and sing Disney princess songs. It's just not going to happen and you're likely to get shot after asking. And don't ask me why I know what a 'Disney princess' is.

"So what happens when you start battle at roughly 80% power, Prowl?" Still frustrated, Prowl tried to rebut Ratchet's story. Unfortunately for the unhappy patient, Ratchet didn't actually mean for that to be a question. "You start using up the 80% rather quickly, at least when you compare it to your desk job. That'll either leave you at Megatron and his troops' mercy or some Autobot will be forced to break off from fighting and drag your glitched aft to safety. Doesn't seem too practical or logical to skip refueling any more, does it?"

Prowl waited a moment before he realized Ratchet had actually paused in his rant. "Of course not, and I didn't do that – "

"Oh, but you did!" Ratchet crooned. "You left yourself incredibly vulnerable to any threats, both here and out there. Even off the battle field your actions could have had really dire effects! The way I see it, the base is also a battlefield for all officers and medical staff. Do you think Sideswipe or any of the others are going to let you go if you need to refuel? That's like hitting a golden opportunity for them because they know you'll be out of it until you process that energon. You screwed up, Prowl," Ratchet said as he jabbed a nearby tool at Prowl. "You screwed up big time. If I were to speak in terms that your thickheaded, workaholic helm could understand, you let yourself go so far that you failed to protect the front back here. It's your job to keep that stuff in mind and you didn't consider it, so you can count this one as a fail for you." Ratchet shook his head at the annoyed and slightly frightened tactician.

"And do you know how this failure would've ended, thanks to that little program? It would've ended with your systems drying up because the program kept suppressing the feeling of hunger, thereby tricking you into falling behind on refueling. And with your incredibly focused workaholic ways, you weren't doing the basic stuff like checking your systems or energon levels!"

"Yes I did!" Prowl snapped over Ratchet.

"Yeah, like three orns before your crash! I checked your internal logs! Gee Prowl, does that sound like a smart move when you have a typical daily consumption rate of twenty percent – never mind the consumption rate of someone who's still healing? Why don't you run that one through the battle simulator sometime after I reactivate it? Gah, I hate those things!"

Prowls optics once again widened in surprise. "What?"

"You heard me. I hate logic centers, battle simulators, inbuilt scientific equipment, you name. They are annoyingly complex and the slightest change can screw up a number of things. Especially ones like yours," Ratchet stopped moving and gave Prowl a fixed look. "I've never had to really worry about your battle simulator until now, and I wished I had or at least focused on it some more because I noticed that thing has been there for a very long time. Like before you were fully upgraded." Ratchet stood in front of Prowl. "Whose stupid aft decision was to put a battle simulator in a sparkling's helm?"

"Excuse me?"

"Don't play dumb with me, Prowl," Ratchet growled. "Trust me; there are ways to tell how long something has been installed. I may not know all of them, but I know the ones I'm seeing on your logic center."

Prowl stared at the looming, angry CMO. Part of him was scrambling for an answer to a question he hadn't thought about since pretty much sparklinghood, while the other part was secretly enjoying to silence. "I don't completely remember," he finally admitted. "I can speculate, however. I've had it well before Smokescreen was created, which makes my sparker the most likely candidate."

"Why would any creator think that was a good move on someone so young?"

"Again, Ratchet, I don't completely remember. I suppose it has something to do with his expectations for me and what he thought was the best course of action for getting me there."

"Wow, sounds like a real winner for a creator. I hope you give him the hell he deserved for that, especially since logic centers do not go through the upgrade cycles very well."

"I did not." Prowl really didn't want to discuss how Blacksmoke was gone by then.

"Well that's no fun," Ratchet said, almost disappointed. "You really should have. Do you have any idea why no one with half a spark of sanity and intelligence does that to a sparkling?"

Prowl tried to respond but he was at a loss of words; namely, because he didn't know what concerns Ratchet had.

After a few moments of silence, Ratchet snorted before explaining in an exasperated tone. "No words? I guess I shouldn't expect any, given you had no chance in the matter and therefore couldn't do your countless joors of research on the matter. Well, let me save you those countless joors of searching later by telling you now: logic centers are treated as a piece of equipment for fully upgraded mechs and femmes to use only. They can and will mess with you – Pit, they can even warp your fundamental coding if the necessary precautions, training, and monitoring are not taken. I took the liberty of forcing Perceptor to shift through the archives for Praxus to see if there were any medical records of you as a sparkling and there's not. Talk about having idiots for creators."

Unaware that medical records from Praxus could even be found, Prowl mulled over the lack of medical records for him as a sparkling. He remembered from his brothers' sparklinghood that Praxians had obsessive tendencies with making sure that their young grew up as healthy, so the lack of records would be odd.

Seeing Prowl's attention drift off, Ratchet snapped his fingers in Prowl's face, receiving a heated glare in return. "Well?"

"'Well' what?"

"Why don't you have medical records from way back then? And don't tell me you don't know because you were so young. I know you can figure it out."

Although unpleased by the stubborn medic's intrusive questions, Prowl realized that he could surmise the answer from what he did know about his life back then. "My sparker's believed that medical checkups were a nuisance meant for the weak and timid, if I recall correctly."

"Wow, what a truly awesome guy. I half expect that he had you painted black with flames."

"Not that this is relevant, but he did not chose that. I remember my creator was the one who chose my paint color and I was a light blue. There were certain aspects of her that were strong-willed and she was determined to help me blend in with the rest of the sparklings."

"Blue? I can't even picture that, but I guess it's a perfect cover to hide a messed up sparkling, complete with borderline-illegal upgrades, in plain view. After all, no one questions the wellbeing of sparklings so long as they have a pretty paint job." Ratchet stopped and furrowed his optic ridges. 'Wait; there is something familiar about that description.' Baffled, Ratchet began searching through his lengthy memories for anything resembling that description.

His search was cut short when a shocked and angry Prowl demanded an explanation. "What do you mean by 'messed up sparkling with a borderline-illegal upgrades'? What authority or knowledge do you have to decide that I was 'messed up?' I don't consider my logic center to be a 'nearly-illegal upgrade.' You may be angry, Ratchet, but there is no excusing these insults."

"Well for starters, the medical community has pretty much always considered an early installation of a logic center to be criminal. It warps a mech's thinking, and the younger they are they more they're likely to change. Younger mechs will randomly use their logic center, preventing them from learning and developing on their own. The sparkling's personal logic abilities and moral abilities are not yet define and they end up relying heavily on the equipment to make those choices for them. We actually did studies on this kind of stuff and the results show that long-term use of the equipment can cripple a mech's ability to grow and comprehend situations where the logic answer isn't always the best one. The only reason the medical community stopped questioning the implication of this kind of upgrade is because of this damn war."

"Clearly your study had a fault. I have been using the equipment for a long time and I've been able to comprehend situations on my own."

"Yeah, but you didn't start out like that," Ratchet pointed out. "I remember you well before you became Prime's Second. You were harsh and unyielding, very methodical in your every action. It was kinda scary. Your efficiency and stats got you promoted pretty far but after a while you stopped being promoted."

"I remember." Prowl remembered the frustration of being passed for a promotion several times despite being the logical choice. At least, according to his logic center.

"Yeah, and I remember how Jazz's promotions eventually brought you two back to the same squad, although it was the first time you two actually worked together. Remember those orns, Prowl?" Ratchet grinned, recalling all the commotion Jazz's arrival had caused. "Jazz pretty much ruined your daily schedule and the two of you went from being 'old pals' to being near enemies. The two of you had developed very different ideas of battle plans and how to run a division. I don't know if someone finally gave in or if you developed a mutual understanding of each other, but things eventually leveled out. Jazz's plans developed more structure and you, well, let's just say you were less scary to those around you."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, it seems that a few of Jazz's values became your values too, at least to some degree. Not to say you relied on your feelings or instincts like Jazz does, but you started to consider the feelings or instincts others might have and developed a response based on that. Prowl, my annoying friend, that isn't from your logic center. Whenever you make a decision that isn't pure logic, then that decision comes from what you learned from Jazz. Primus knows no one else would try and get through to you. And if I recall correctly, the next available promotion after that was the one you got." Ratchet grinned as he proved his point.

Prowl considered everything Ratchet had said. "Was I truly scary?"

"Not in a horror-film kind of way," Ratchet assured him. "For most mechs it was you being too difficult to understand."

"And what kind of fear was it for you?" Prowl could detect in Ratchet's voice that he didn't include himself in that group.

Ratchet shook his head. "You don't want to know."

"Yes I do." Prowl stared intently into Ratchet's optics. The tactician knew that Ratchet had one of the most objective views of those around him, even if he didn't act like it. Fact was, like Prowl, Ratchet was trained to look at tough situations objectively and collect data over an extended period of time.

"Fine, but only because I know you won't let it go. I…" Ratchet hesitated, cursing his personal objection to lying. "I wondered if and when you would defect to the Decepticons."

"What?" Prowl nearly yelled.

"Oh calm down. I don't think that anymore and I haven't for quite some time. It's just that… well, look: do you know what happened to the majority of the register sparklings or mechs who had a logic center put in earlier than the recommendations lined out by the medical boards?"

"No, and given that you didn't know that fact about me, that shouldn't matter."

"You behaved the same as the rest of your peers, even if I didn't know that you were part of that group of misfortunate mechs. Anyway, of those mechs like you, virtually all of them were identified as Decepticons by the Autobot council – well before those orns when I questioned your fate." Ratchet stated matter-of-factly. The harsh reality of what others similar to the SIC had become hung in the air, leaving Prowl stunned and speechless. Although it wasn't a truth Ratchet wanted to leave inflicted on the poor tactician, he decided to let Prowl think about that statement for a few more moments. Finally Ratchet spoke up.

"I'm not saying that they all became Decepticons the moment each faction was formed. A lot of them did start out as Autobots, actually. I think that the root of their defects stem from the Autobots putting considerably more weight in things they couldn't comprehend or didn't value because they were 'illogical,' or weak. Decepticons are in the overall sense very structured and methodical since they place most of their values in the physical relm. Their motto of the strong should rule has a great deal of appeal to those who rely solely on logic because it relies on a tangible object. Not to mention that tangible object offers makes it easy to keep the structure in order, something you've always wanted."

"So that's what you thought of me because I shared a common desire and behaved like those who defected to the Decepticons? I'm surprised it changed, given that you didn't know the truth of my logic center's installation and statistics showed that mechs like me didn't always feel compelled to be an Autobot," Prowl responded, somewhat defensively.

"They didn't have someone like Jazz."

"Excuse me? What does Jazz have to do with me remaining an Autobot despite my peers' change of spark?"

"They didn't have someone to painstakingly teach them how to look past the battle simulator and logic results and attempt to comprehend other factors. You did. You learned how to see past the surface and the easy answers given to you by that equipment. As corny as this will sound, I think that's what saved you."

"You hypothesis that Jazz undid vorns of damage caused by a seemingly-small decision that my creators made by simply being there," Prowl said skeptically. "Ratchet, I may have learned how to see past my logic center, as you put it, but that seems pretty far-fetched."

Exasperated at his failed attempt to reach Prowl, Ratchet threw his hands up in the air as all of his previous anger returned. "Oh dear Primus! Trying to get through to you is worse than trying to explain to Ironhide why he should stop being so ready to sacrifice himself for the cause! Fine, I give up on trying to help you out. With a sparklinghood like yours there's probably no way I can get you to fully understand what I'm trying to say, or even why a program like the one you created wasn't a good idea."

"My program was fine with only a few minor flaws. The 'critical' flaw was more of an operator one."

"Oh, it seems the self-appointed know-it-all tactician needs a lesson in why he shouldn't try to play doctor." Ratchet snorted. "Let's see; do I want to lecture or give this little lesson in the form of a pop quiz. Hmm… well, I think a pop quiz fits best for the know-it-all. Let's start out with an easy one – question number one: do you remember what the symptoms of your crash were?"

Prowl gave Ratchet a dirty look back. "Yes I do, but I'm not playing your game."

"I'm sorry, but the correct answer was burning, some form of emotional distress, your senses shortening out, and a whole other heap of crash symptoms," Ratchet said with a feigned apologetic look, as if he was a game-show host. "Question number two: What caused these symptoms? The answer I'm looking for is not 'crash,' by the way."

"I suppose you'll say it was my program," Prowl blankly replied.

"Bingo, but I was looking for a more in-depth answer. Any more answers? Hmm? No? Well, I'll tell you then. You see, from what I gather, Sideswipe went a tad too far and said some painful things. Actually, based on the way Jazz was seething, I'd say some very hurtful things, and more than once. With your systems already stressed and all kinds of emotional responses generating from the stupid twin's craptastic approach to solving his problems, along with less energon than you should've been functioning on, your little house of cards came falling down. Actually, in your case, it's more like they came crashing down onto a pile of burning hot, jagged rocks and any survivors were picked off by vicious birds."

"Thank you, Ratchet, for that wonderful comparison. I'll think about it while I'm – " Prowl tried to move the conversation into another direction, like one that would get him closer to the door, but to no avail.

"Who said I was done? Clearly it must be that stupid little voice in your head that thought you know the ins-and-outs of screwing with your own systems. Now, as I was saying, the strain on your systems along with the low energon levels and the mountain of emotional feed Sideswipe was creating, your little program kicked it into overdrive, only to succeed in complete failure. The failure, might I add, resulted in burning half of the circuits. Undoubtedly you probably were feeling some emotions towards the end, even if they were weak. Then again maybe not; you only fried half of that system. But I really don't care about what you were thinking in those last moments; I'm more concerned about your sheer stupidity and what kind of delusional thoughts you have that got you to that point."

"Ratchet, you are beginning to infringe on the ethical codes and – "

"And what, Prowl? Should consider stop being mean and be a nice little medic? Well I did that earlier and then you nearly killed yourself because I didn't want to push you. So the way I see – medically speaking – you can't be fully functioning with that logic center if you actually thought that program was any good." Suddenly Ratchet stopped. Prowl looked into Ratchet's face and could see him chewing on something he just said. A slow, malicious smile crept along Ratchet's face before he spoke up. "I think I'm done ranting for now."

Prowl's optics almost cut out from the shock at Ratchet's sudden announcement. His optics followed Ratchet as the medic reconnected Prowl's servos. "What are you doing?"

"Can't you guess Prowl? What do doctors do when they have a theory on what's wrong with their patient?" The evil smile on Ratchet's face only grew as he finished his final tasks needed to release Prowl.

"They run tests?"

"Yes we do. I'm thinking about one type of test in particular – the trial one." Ratchet worked for a few more breems, practically humming to himself for whatever scheme he'd concocted. Prowl was afraid to ask so he waited in silence until Ratchet announce he was done with Prowl's immediate repairs.

"What? How can you be done? Aren't you going to turn on my logic center and battle simulator as well?" Prowl demanded.

"Pit no. I gave you some extra good will when I felt sorry for you, and since you didn't deserve I'm gonna give some extra bad will to balance out the forces of nature. Now leave and stay away for an orn or two because I'm not turning it on and I'm not clearing you for any duty. It's part of my trial to see if there's something wrong with your logic center."

Prowl glared vehemently into Ratchet's evil and joyance face. "You cannot do this. As your superior, I'm giving you a direct order to configure your superior officer back so I'm fully operational."

Ratchet shook his head. "As CMO, this medical concern I have regarding your near accidental suicide trumps your command. You can bet Prime will back me up on this. That is, if you're willing to let the cat out of the bag and tell him." Ratchet's moment of almost pure bliss could not be tainted in the least bit by Prowl's evil glare. "No go play outside for a while and you can come back in when dear old Ratchet calls you in," Ratchet dismissed Prowl in a motherly tone, as if he were talking to a sparkling.

Prowl tried to protest but a bellowed "Scram!" from Ratchet had him out the door faster than he'd ever left medbay.

-.-

Slowly Prowl walked back to his quarters, careful to avoid areas of high traffic. At first he considered heading to his office and gathering a few things, but the possibility of seeing the others was unappealing. He had also contemplated going to the room in the lower decks like before, but Prowl was far more tired than he expected. There wasn't anywhere to rest in that room and right now Prowl could only focus on the lure of a berth. The seductive image of resting peacefully pulled Prowl in the direction of his quarters.

However, Prowl found his desire for peace disrupted as his optics laid upon none other than Sideswipe. His currently least-favorite Autobot was mysteriously bouncing a small rubber ball against the door to the red mech's quarters.

The acutely-aware warrior heard Prowl's faint footsteps and turned to see Prowl standing roughly 15 meters away. They stared at each other in silence as the ball bounced one more time before the Sideswipe caught it.

The awkward silence dragged on until Prowl finally ceded to his newest curiosity. "Why are you bouncing a ball against your own door from the hallway?"

"Well, uh, Sunstreaker managed to lock me out. I figure if I do this enough, he'll either let me in to end the noise or come out here to stop me."

"And if he chooses the second option?"

"Oh I've got a plan for that," Sideswipe replied with a wolfish grin.

Prowl couldn't come up with a response to that and the awkward silence returned once more. The tired tactician wasn't in the mood to deal with what Sideswipe earlier actions, nor did he care which twin would end up in medbay. Prowl resumed walking to his quarters and passed the fidgeting warrior mech without acknowledging him.

Once Prowl had passed the troublesome mech by a few meters Sideswipe spoke up. "I'm sorry."

Prowl abruptly halted before turning back. "You can't expect that to be good enough."

"Of course not… it's just I'm not sure what to do or say. I never pictured myself apologizing to an officer. Not sincerely anyways. I feel kinda dirty now, actually." Sideswipe's face twisted as if he detected a foul stench.

"Neither had I envisioned an honest apology coming from you."

"Yeah, well, it's not in my nature to give in to anything. I mean come on – I was sitting here just a moment ago playing 'poke the psycho bear.'" To prove his point, Sideswipe bounced the ball against the door again and both mechs thought they heard a low growl come from within the room.

Prowl stared at the door, debating whether or not he should interfere, least they be down one or two key soldiers and have yet another Decepticon attack. The internal debate didn't last long as Prowl reminded himself he wasn't allowed to resume work yet and decided to leave their fates in their own hands.

Still, the expression on the red mech's face coupled with his fidgeting, Prowl could tell his presence was still very much a problem for the relatively-young mech. "I hope you aren't expecting me to accept your apology, at least not right now."

"What? No, of course not. I expect way more brimstone, fire, and misery to come my way before that. Jazz promised that much."

Prowl was mildly surprised. "When did Jazz promise that?"

"A couple of joors ago now, I think. I'm trying to avoid places where he might see me because he keeps giving me this creepy evil smile. He's pretty pissed off about what I did so he's taking his time on developing a punishment on this. Probably didn't help that I told him he only had 10 joors from the time the act was committed to officially deliver the punishment either." The mech gave a weak chuckle.

"I guess one of the many things Jazz doesn't like is being told how to punish a mech by the mech he's punishing. I suspect Ironhide, Prime, and the other officers would feel the same." Prowl commented as he slightly shook his head.

"Well yeah. Jazz certainly doesn't like it, almost as much as he doesn't like what I said. I think between those two things he's taking this very personal." Sideswipe hesitated before deciding to just get it over with. The unusual and rare burden of guilt bothered him. "I guess sometimes I take the things between you and me a tad too personal. You're very good at your job and when we're off the field I find that really annoying. Sometimes it's borderline maddening."

"I'm sorry that my intent to successfully run an army both on and off the battlefield has hindered your 'creative' ways to have fun or express yourself," Prowl responded deadpan. "That, by the way, Sideswipe, was not a sincere apology."

"Oh my Primus, you know what, Prowl? I – no, I'm not going there right now." Sideswipe took a deep breathe for a moment before trying again. "I don't like you."

"Thank you. The feeling is mutual."

"I'm not done yet." Sideswipe snapped. "Can you be quiet for just an astrosecond? Geez, I'm having trouble trying to figure how to word this and it would be nice to be interrupted by our usual shots at each other."

Prowl raised an optic ridge but chose to remain silent. His curiosity over what the red warrior was struggling with outweighed his urge to remind Sideswipe how to talk to an officer.

After a half a breem, Sideswipe exhaled before trying once more. "I respect you. I respect you enough that I never actually want to see you seriously harmed. I hate the idea I couldn't help you when you needed it on the battlefield and I hate that I pushed things too far. Its one thing to see you twitch when I push your buttons, but it's another when you crash – especially like that. Almost single-handedly taking out our SIC over an attempted prank with fireworks and liquid drugs doesn't feel right." At his superior's surprised look Sideswipe paused to clarify. "An angry Jazz is a vengeful Jazz. He pretty much went out of his way to uncover what I was doing earlier and completely ruined it for me. I'm not admitting to anything you can't find in the report he's building.

"Anyway, you've busted me so many times both here and before Earth that I kinda felt like I knew you. It took me a while, but eventually I could tell what was valuable to you and what wasn't based on what kind of pain you dished back. The things you really kicked someone's aft about seemed especially high when they screwed up the order around your base or cramped your stats. I figured you thought of us as tools or resources for you to use in your plans, and when you were done we were supposed to sit quietly on the side until the next command. I don't sit quietly and I'm tired of being thought of as a simpleton or a tool for the battlefields. Our previous commanders pretty much said that to Sunstreaker and me." Sideswipe glared off to the side, mentally picturing his former commander in all of his smug glory. He pushed the image aside to continue on.

"I got tired of sitting around when Earth's crappy weather being extra crappy. Almost every 'bot pretty much went insane from the lack of activity. Like, only a handful of mechs seemed okay with the situation; you most of all. I figured it was because you're too rigid to know what it felt like to lose all your stress outlets, and that you didn't care about our suffering so long as order was maintained. I dunno… it just didn't seem fair."

Prowl carefully watched Sideswipe as the mech spoke. He was careful to listen to Sideswipe and not cut him off or be distracted by the grossly inaccurate opinion Sideswipe had of him.

"After you were rushed into medbay for your latest crash, Jazz and I had a brief talk. He reminded me that while I know the signs thatyou care, I can't tell why and that maybe I shouldn't try guessing. Mechs tend to do things when they think they know the 'whys' or 'whats' and that maybe I should just accept it as is, whatever 'it' is."

Finally finished with his small speech, the red mech visibly relaxed a little. While there was nothing in there that was definitively an apology, Prowl did know that particular 'what' about Sideswipe. That explanatory-speech was the closest thing to an apology that Prowl had ever heard from a mech who never did sincerely apologize, at least not in public. Sideswipe was a mech of actions and not words, after all. The action of trying to apologize and his admittance at the end said more than any "I'm sorry" Sideswipe could have created.

Still, Prowl couldn't resist the first response that leaped to mind. It was Sideswipe, after all. "Thank you for your honesty, Sideswipe. Would you like a hug?"

"I dunno, can you bend that much without breaking the drive shaft up your aft?" Between the comment and the smirk on Sideswipe's face, it was clear to Prowl that the moment was over and Sideswipe would probably behave like he did before. Or maybe not. Only time would tell how sincerely Sideswipe took his own words.

"I do have one question for you, Sideswipe. What were you planning to do with the liquid medical supplies?"

The grin on Sideswipe's face bloomed from his unabashed pride. "I was curious if it was true about getting a contact-high from some of those liquid compounds, especially when the compounds are converted into vapor form. Everyone was supposed to come out to look at the unexpected fireworks, and well… just read the report sometime. It would've been awesome."

Prowl turned and silently chuckled as he walked away. Even as he disappeared down the hall he could hear Sideswipe resuming his dangerously-stupid game.

If the image of Sideswipe in a pink dress seems familiar, I may know why ;) Evil Ratchet (my beta reader) drew that some time ago.