AN: Holy freaking Primus, I have fanart!! I just about rolled over and died in fangirly squeeness when I found out. Kiwimwi right here on (or Firefly7727 as she's known on deviantart) whipped up an illustration of everybody's favorite scene from chapter two. Check out the link in my profile to see it.

Vorn = 83 years/1 TF year

Orn = 2 weeks/ 1 TF day

Joor = 6 hours/1 TF hour.

Breem = 8.3 minutes.

Klick = less than a second

Ch. 3 – Settling In

"Yah serious? You're gonna be his Caretaker?"

"Only for a few deca-orns, until it's safe to send him to the Contingent," Prowl explained. "They're better equipped and have more experience in helping younglings and survivors."

"Well, I bet Blue's glad to hear that, ain't'cha?" Jazz said with a knowing smile to the youngling in question.

Bluestreak nodded vigorously. Currently, he and Jazz where sitting on the floor of Prowl's quarters, playing with Bluestreak's doll and a few other makeshift toys Jazz had improvised out of various knick-knacks from his own quarters. They certainly had plenty of space: Prowl's room was predictably sparse, containing only his berth, a small chest to contain personal belongings, and a small desk with a chair. Even so, the room was only big enough to take seven or eight steps in any one direction – which was standard fair for the regular soldiers of the army, not that the officer rooms were much bigger.

At least as a Specialist (tactics and security) he was allowed to have his own room, rather than having to share a larger one with at least one, if not or two or three other mechs. Just the thought of it was enough to make Prowl cringe. But since the room wasn't that big, he wanted to be sure Bluestreak's cot would be able to fit without being in the way.

"I'm not certain why, though," Prowl said as he walked around the room in measuring steps. "I've never had to care for a youngling before, and everyone knows I'm not the most engaging of mechs. The best I could do is make sure Bluestreak doesn't starve to death. I'm still not sure what made Sidestep take Ratchets side; he barely even knows me."

"Mech's got good instincts, what can I say?" Jazz said about his mentor, amusing Bluestreak by tossing up and rolling around a large green marble on his hands and arms. "Besides, if ya can keep Blue online and healthy, it'll already be a lot better than some other creators out there."

"That doesn't mean that I should-"

Prowl wanted to make Jazz understand just how illogical a choice he was, but never got the chance.

"Relax Prowl, you'll do fine, yer just a bit nervous 'cos you've never done this before." Jazz interrupted in a loud, laughing voice. 'S a normal thing. Hey, Blue, why don't you give it a try? I bet ya got the quick hands to be a pro at this!"

Bluestreak took the offered marble and tried to copy some of the tricks he watched Jazz do, with extremely limited success, dropping the marble with a loud clack every couple of klicks. Even as Jazz kept his full attention on Bluestreak, Prowl found himself receiving a ping from Jazz over the comm. line. Confused and curious, he opened the link.

//Better be careful what you say in front of the kids,// Jazz warned, voice sounding friendly but with an undercurrent of seriousness. //Keep talkin' like that, it's gonna sound like you don't like him, that you think he's just an obligation you've gotta put up with.//

//As his temporary Caretaker, Bluestreak's well-being is my obligation and my duty,// Prowl reminded Jazz. //Personal feelings don't factor into this; I'm only trying to state the facts of the matter.//

//And you gotta understand, Prowl, not everyone speaks logic as fluent as you do,// Jazz answered back. //Maybe you're only tryin' t' state the facts like ya usually do, but to Bluestreak, it's gonna sound like you don't want him around, maybe that you resent having t' take care of him. Trust me, Prowl; for a youngling, knowing you're unwanted is the single worst feeling in the world.//

Prowl had nothing to say to that.

Bluestreak chose that moment to yawn as widely as his mouth would allow, rubbing one optic with his fist in an attempt to keep his optics on-line, both of them already dimming as his recharge systems tried to kick in.

"Looks like someone's 'bout done for the day." Jazz observed, amusement coloring his voice. "You've had a heck of a long day kid, and it's…wow, almost midnight. How didja stay awake for this long?"

"By refusing to recharge here alone while I attended the meeting, that's how," Prowl answered. He stopped, and then looked at the visored mech in honest confusion.

"Jazz, just what are you doing in my quarters in the first place?"

Jazz pointed to the folded up cot leaning against the wall. "Brought that in for Blue and forgot t' leave."

"…Oh. So long as you're here, help me set it up. I've never assembled one before."

Jazz pulled himself up from the floor, excusing himself to the fast-fading Bluestreak before helping Prowl unfold the cot and set it up against the wall opposite to the one Prowl's berth lined. The two worked silently for several moments as they worked with the theoretically-simple procedure.

"Hey Prowl, did Praxus have a thing where the scientist or whatever lived on-site with their families?"

Prowl looked at the visored mech oddly. "What do you mean exactly?"

"As in, th' families pretty much lived on or next door to whatever lab or facility the scientist was workin' in."

Prowl shook his head. "Of course not. The residential area wasn't more than a joor away, maybe a joor and a half at the furthest edges. There would be no point in having the families so close to the actual labs. It would only waste space and put them in possible danger."

"Figured as much." Jazz said, as the cot legs rattled against the floor in completion. Prowl started to tell Bluestreak it was time for recharge, but stopped. Sometime in the last breem, Bluestreak had lain down and fallen dead asleep right where he had been sitting, hand lightly curled around the marble so it wouldn't roll away.

"Well ain't that precious," Jazz commented with a smile. He went over to the recharging youngling and carefully lifted him up. Bluestreak never even stirred with the handling.

"'S kinda strange, don't'ch think?" Jazz asked as he held the youngling in his arms. "I mean, what was a little guy like Blue doing way out in the R&D district instead of at home in the residential with his family? Th' labs ain't no place for younglings, an' I can't think of why he'd wander all the way out there by himself."

Behind Jazz's back, Prowl froze.

Jazz glanced back at the tactician from the corner of his visor. "Prowl?"

"Perhaps he was following someone, or was trying to find one of his creators," Prowl suggested coolly. "He was alone for an additional two orns after the attack. Who knows what he had been doing in the mean time?"

Jazz turned fully to give Prowl an odd look. "Maybe. But if he was up and wandering, wouldn't one of the search teams have found him sooner?"

"Speculation is pointless now," Prowl said. "We can't possibly know why Bluestreak was found where he was until he's ready to tell us."

"Point taken."

Jazz left shortly afterwards, gathering up his knickknacks and parting with a 'g'night' to them both, even if only Prowl could hear it. The Praxian stood over the slumbering Bluestreak even after Jazz was gone, his CPU running the same tracks over and over again.

Jazz's question…no matter how many times he turned it over in his CPU, he couldn't think of answer that made sense, and that fit with all the other known facts. Bluestreak should have, by all rights, been found in the residential area, like Jazz had said. He couldn't have wandered all the way to the industrial districts all by himself, Bluestreak never made mention or indication he had followed someone or been taken by anyone else, and there was no logical reason for a youngling to already be in the district when the Decepticons attacked in the middle of the night nearly three orns ago.

Except…

Except, Bluestreak HAD been found in the remains of-

No.

That didn't make any sense either. That facility had been shut down vorns before Prowl had left the city, with most of the scientists leaving the city shortly afterward, the entire…affair being declared a failure. Besides, Bluestreak was far too young. That option was simply impossible, there had to be another explanation. Just because Prowl couldn't think of one did not mean it didn't exist.

Prowl could feel a stab of pain as his logic processor tried to overwork itself. He needed to stop and follow his own advice – speculation was completely pointless for tonight. Hopefully, Bluestreak would be able to shed some light in the morning, if he was ready to talk about it. Assuming he could remember that much.

That decided, Prowl dimmed the lights, checked his alarms, and settled down for the night himself. He had to get up early tomorrow, and he needed to get as much recharge as he could in what was left of the night.

oOoOoOo

"…illegal under Senate Law! If they find out-"

"The Senates opinion is irrelevant…war is coming…our cities survival paramount."

Interest. Belief. Trust. Safety. Hope.

"…81% failure rate…compatibilities…debilitating glitches more often than not…no measurable improvement in subjects…not worth it…"

"…can't afford to stop…too important to quit now..."

Confusion. Frustration. Uncertainty. Trust?

"…running out of volunteers…too dangerous, no reversing…"

"…prove to the others it's safe. Only way we can continue…"

"Safe! …debilitating glitches-! Can't prove it's not…"

"Use him."

"…if you're sure, my..."

Shock. Confusion. Alone. Pain. Fear. Trust? Hope? When…?

"…far better than others…minimal adverse side effects, but…enough for now…have to stop."

"No. Make it perfect. Don't stop until it is."

"Yes, my lord Emirate."

Pain. Confusion. Abandoned. Pain. Pain. Isolation. Exhaustion. Pain. Silence. Pain. Pain. Pain pain pain pain-

oOoOoOo

Prowl woke up to screaming.

In barely a klick he was on his pedes, rifle in hand and battle computer running, processing all incoming transmissions and running through possible escape routes and bunkers he could hide Bluestreak while keeping his wings high and tuned to all enemy movements.

Except that none of that was actually happening.

No alerts, no sirens, no running pedes of mechs scrambling to battle positions, no transmissions flying through the comm. lines with instructions and updates…it was all completely quiet. Prowls sensor panels detected no other presences besides himself and the now awake youngling, optics glowing in the pitch darkness.

"Lights on," Prowl ordered. The room lit up accordingly, and Bluestreak shaded his sensitive optics to the sudden brightness. As expected, the room was still empty. But Bluestreak was sitting up in his cot, wings vibrating with fearful tremors, knees pulled up and doll in a suffocating grip.

"Bluestreak, was that you screaming just now?" Prowl demanded. Bluestreak shrunk away, confirmation enough.

"Did you hear or see anything?" Prowl asked. Something had frightened the youngling, something that could potentially be a threat to them and the base.

Bluestreak kept his face low, almost hiding it in the doll, and shook his head slowly.

"You didn't see anything?" Prowl asked, lowering his rifle slightly but keeping a finger on the trigger, just in case.

Bluestreak nodded.

"Heard nothing?"

Nod.

Prowl frowned. "Then why did…oh. I see."

Of course. It was impossible for the youngling to detect a threat while sleeping that Prowl could not, and the rest of the base was clearly not being attacked. That left only one possibility as to what had alarmed the youngling so badly out of deep recharge.

"Bluestreak, did you have a nightmare?"

Ashamed, the young Praxian nodded minutely, and tried to hide behind his doll.

"You did not do anything wrong," Prowl told him as he subspaced his rifle. "You reacted in an automatic and uncontrollable manner. Now that you know there is nothing here to hurt you, you can rest at ease again. Go back into recharge. Lights off."

Bluestreak lightly gasped as the lights blinked off again, bright blue optics the only remaining source of light. They weren't turning off.

"Bluestreak, there is nothing here or outside that can hurt you," Prowl explained patiently as he sat back down on his berth. "You don't need to stay awake. If you don't go into recharge, you won't have the energy to do anything tomorrow."

Well, technically it would be later today, but that was beside the point.

The twin lights continued shining in the dark, not even moving sideways to lie down. Prowl contemplated this briefly. Clearly, points of logic were not going to work. Bluestreak was still shaken from his nightmare, and while he had no logical reasons to worry, he still insisted on doing so. Perhaps further assurances that he was safe in the event that something did happen were needed.

Not bothering to order the lights back on, Prowl again stood and covered the five steps to Bluestreaks side of the room. The youngling watched him warily, caution turning to confusion when Prowl only bent down to grip the edge of the cot.

To the grey Praxians silent astonishment, Prowl gave him a little ride as he pulled the cot across the floor until it was next to his own berth, with only about a arms length of space between them.

"There. If any Decepticon tries to attack, I'll be right here to protect you." Prowl told him matter-of-factly.

He straightened, but before he could step away Bluestreak grabbed one of his hands and briefly nuzzled the back of it with his forehead in silent thanks.

"Think nothing of it," Prowl told him. "Now go into recharge. I'll watch over you until you do."

Comforted, Bluestreak laid back down again. As promised, Prowl stayed awake beside him until the younglings cycling slowed to the deep, even breath of recharge.

Prowl watched him for a little while longer, thinking.

Bluestreak had screamed. With his voice. Obviously his vocal processors worked just fine, and he was further disinclined to think his inability to speak had to do with some sort of processing glitch. Was Bluestreak choosing to be mute? And if so, for what benefit?

Prowl shook his head. More pointless speculations. The most he could do would be to tell Ratchet about this in the morning.

That decided, Prowl was finally able to enter into recharge cycle himself. But he adjusted his sensors, usually attuned to alert him to any indications of approaching danger, to also wake him if Bluestreak started to come out of recharge earlier than anticipated. He would rather be up first so Bluestreak wouldn't have to be alone.

oOoOoOo

Night shift monitor duty was, unequivocally, the most boring, processor numbing duty any bot could possibly have. Granted, that wasn't necessarily a bad thing, per say – better than, say, a surprise-attack in the middle of the night – but there was a reason that multiple night shifts were a favorite disciplinary measure for fairly minor if annoying offensives. The more clever bots could usually find some poor unsuspecting dupe to take their shifts for them more often or not, to the annoyance of said 'dupes' after they figured out what had just happened.

'Note to self: never ever take another bet from Jazz ever again.' Cliffjumper thought to himself sourly, slumping in his chair. But his mood immediately got better when he heard the ping of the monitor room door being opened by the mech taking his place for the morning. Glory to Primus almighty, his shift was just about over. He could already hear his recharge berth singing his name.

"Anything to report?" Prowl asked as he came in, as protocol dictated.

"Well, Ratchet forgot he needs to recharge like everyone else does again, and either Mirage has a really bad case of insomnia or he just likes to prowl around at night because he's creepy like that. Other than that, we've had absolutely zero…what is that?"

'That' was a small grey and red youngling standing next to Prowl, identical in frame design and holding what looked like a tangled up blanket in his arms, standing just behind and to the side of Prowl, watching Cliffjumper curiously but cautiously.

Insanely, for a moment Cliffjumper honestly thought Prowl didn't know the youngling was there and the kid had just followed him here.

"This is Bluestreak." Prowl asked in the exact same dead pan almost-monotone he always had (and thusly disproving Cliffjumpers short lived theory). "If that's all Cliffjumper, you may go ahead and leave."

Acting as though everything was as normal and routine as it had been yesterday – or, at least as it had been before the attack on Praxus – Prowl came all the way in and settled in the empty seat next to Cliffjumper, logging in and setting up for his turn at monitor duty. Meanwhile, Bluestreak crawled underneath the console and proceeded to amuse himself with a big green marble he'd…where the slag had he been hiding that thing?

"Uh, Prowl?"

"Yes?"

"That's a youngling."

"Yes, I know."

"Shouldn't he be someplace…not here?"

"I've spoken with Optimus. So long as Bluestreak continues to behave himself, we see no issues with him being where ever I am."

"But he…never mind."

With that, Cliffjumper logged out, hopped up, and left the room, pausing with a backwards glance at the surreal image of the kid playing at Prowl's pedes.

'Okaaaay,' Cliffjumper thought as the door closed behind him. 'Since when had Prowl opened up a Daddy Daycare?'

End Ch. 2