/Prowl?/ It was Optimus.

/Yes?/

/Do you have a moment?/

I was in my office during my assigned duty shift, working on requisitions at that precise moment. But whatever Optimus needed was certainly more important. /Of course. On my way./

/No need. I'm almost there./

That was odd. Why would he comm ahead? I considered the possibilities, deciding that it must be a matter requiring discretion. That was as far as I got in my projections, though, before the door slid open. I stood to greet him. "What do you need, sir?"

"Nothing of importance. I was wondering what the calendar looked like for May 28th."

Checking briefly, I answered, "Meeting with Admiral Black at 09:00, scheduled to last until 10:30. The only other item that day is our regularly scheduled meeting at 13:00 hours. But that is more than a month out, so it is likely to fill up, especially with it being a Friday." Humans always put things off until the last minute and then tried to squeeze in this or that meeting before the weekend.

Prime nodded thoughtfully for a moment. "I would like you to block off my schedule for the remainder of the 28th after our meeting."

I immediately did so on the calendaring system, and then asked, "What shall I put on the description?"

"Just put 'busy.' I'm requesting personal time."

Personal. Time. Prime. I parsed the data, trying to assimilate it slowly enough to prevent a glitch. Optimus Prime requesting personal time. The last time he'd requested personal time…Earth's time reckoning wasn't accurate that far back, with all the glitches between the various calendars. I tried again, referencing Cybertronian time. It was when he and Elita One spent two orns together back near the beginning of the War.

Ratchet had occasionally ordered him to take a few hours or a half-day here or there, but Prime requesting time off was unheard of. Even after he received news of Elita One's death, he didn't take time off. In fact, he'd spent even more time on duty until Ratchet pulled medical rank.

I met my Prime's gaze. "Might I inquire what you'll be doing during your personal time?"

"Do you always require an accounting of others' time-off requests?"

"Frankly, Prime, most 'bots' leave of absence is spent in the brig."

He narrowed his optics slightly. "It's personal, Prowl. That's why it's called 'personal time.'"

We regarded each other for a moment, and then I changed strategy. "I see. Will you require transportation off the island?"

He chuckled. "No, old friend, I'll be staying put, though I'll probably spend some time off the base. I plan on visiting Iron Will and his family for a while, though there is some private research and study I'll be doing, as well. Satisfied?"

"Yes." At least, in regards to the request for time off, he had met the necessary requirements. But in regards to why Prime would make the request to begin with, I was nowhere near satisfied. "I need not remind you that NEST operations supersede time-off requests and should we be called up, you will need to be in contact and available for duty."

"Understood. Thank you." He left, and I sat down, focusing on the requisition paperwork again. I needed to finish this quickly so I could further analyze Prime's actions.

…

When I arrived in the med-bay, Ratchet was working with his latest repair-team recruit. Laura Echo Hawk was currently learning to recognize various mech-fluids by texture and color. While all of us Autobots appreciated the willingness of humans to help, it was just…unsettling to see the tall, dark-haired woman up to her elbows in hydraulic fluid. Gruesome.

"Echo Hawk," I greeted her. "Ratchet, I need a private moment with you, when you have a chance."

Ratchet gave me a curt nod and then returned to his lesson. "What happens when this mixes with energon?"

"Caustic, highly unstable solution," Echo Hawk answered.

"All mech-fluids make highly unstable solutions when mixed with energon," Ratchet snapped back. "Be more specific."

She bit her lip, obviously struggling to remember. With a grunt, Ratchet poured some of the hydraulic fluid into a small dish and added just one drop of energon. The mixture began seething.

Echo Hawk suddenly remembered. "Corrodes wiring and circuitry, leading to a high probability of explosion or combustion with widespread short-circuiting."

He nodded once in approval. "And does horrific things to skin, I might add. If you see this," he gestured toward the dish, "that's a stop. You get a 'bot to help you with it. If there's not one available, you just shut down all systems in the affected area and get the Pit out. Understand? Quinn still has scars, despite the protective gear."

She nodded, a little wide-eyed.

"What about when circuitry is exposed to pure hydraulic fluid?"

"Low probability of shorting out, but congeals on circuit boards, making a complete assessment of damage difficult for the naked eye."

"Good. What if it mixes with coolant?"

"That's a nasty mix. Shorts out circuitry and gums up on contact. More difficult to diagnose with the naked eye than hydraulic fluid alone. Exposure to fumes over time can cause scarring to the lungs."

"Good. We'll finish up with fluids tomorrow and begin with alloys. Last challenge of the day: Mudflap."

Her expression turned to one of fury and she picked up a laser scalpel, menacing empty air and projecting her voice so it echoed through the med-bay. "You fragging glitch! What the hell did you do to end up here? You'll be begging for Ratchet before I'm done with you! Now get up on that berth!"

Ratchet chuckled. "Well done. Should have had a femme on the team a long time ago. Males can be imposing, but femmes can intimidate on a level no mech can hope to achieve. You hardly need to practice at all."

I mimicked the human gesture of clearing my throat. "Not quite the last challenge for the day, Echo Hawk. Prowl."

She looked uncertainly up at Ratchet. "I, um, haven't been trained on that one yet, sir."

I steadily held her gaze. "Improvise."

She studied me for a second, and then her eyes hardening, she jutted out her chin. Again, her alto voice boomed. "You. Berth. Now."

Ratchet chuckled, and I climbed up on the berth, lying down. On the edge of my vision, I caught her giving Ratchet an uncertain glance, but he nodded his head, indicating she should continue. She climbed the platform near my head and strode to stand by my shoulder where we could look at each other with reasonable ease. She narrowed her eyes at me. "Report."

"Logic subroutine glitch."

"Which set of twins?"

"Arcee this time."

Her façade faltered. "Arcee?"

"No one can cause trouble like a femme," Ratchet muttered. "Do you remember the sequence to reset the affected circuit?"

"I…I was studying up on fluids for today, sir."

"I'll walk you through it," the medic reassured her. "You should know this one anyway."

I lay comfortably on the berth while Ratchet showed her the procedure and then had her recite it back for him.

"Good job," Ratchet praised her.

"You're good to go, sir," she said to me.

I sat up and, carefully taking her in my hand, set her on the floor again. "Thank you. And for future reference, you don't need to raise your voice. However, your succinct communication was appreciated."

She flushed and Ratchet chuckled again. "Dismissed."

"Thank you, sir." She threw a smart salute, turned on her heel, and quickly left.

"How is she working out?"

"Not as quick on chemistry but better than any of the others with electrical. She'll do nicely." He gave me a suspicious look. "You didn't drop by to volunteer, though. What do you need?"

"When is the last time Prime had a complete scan and update?"

He shrugged and started cleaning up the various fluids he and Echo Hawk had been working with. "A couple of months ago. Why?"

I hesitated, knowing how the news would be received. However, Ratchet would learn of it sooner or later. "Optimus has requested time off."

The CMO sharply turned to look at me. "The slagger requested it. Why?"

I replayed the pertinent part of the conversation for him. "I'll be staying put, though I'll probably spend some time off the base. I plan on visiting Iron Will and his family for a while, though there is some private research and study I'll be doing, as well."

"Private research and study? What in the universe is that supposed to mean? And why does he need to block off a specific period of time to do it?"

"Unknown. But I thought you should be aware of this."

"You're slagging right, I should. Thanks. When is his day off? And for how long?"

"May 28th, and it will be the latter half of the day starting around 14:00 hours."

"I'll see if I can't drag him in here before then and do a complete scan."

"Thank you. And this was a confidential conversation."

"Of course."

…

Four days later, I received a report from Ratchet. Prime was in optimal condition with no signs of damage to internal or external systems. Neural circuitry was perfectly intact and operating within acceptable parameters. That ruled out any medical reasons for his leave of absence.

I considered various other theories. Either he needed an uninterrupted period of time to complete his private research and study, or there was a specific event during that time period that he was scheduling around. Assuming the length of the time was the most important factor, there was any number of activities he could be engaging in, from a private, remote summit with Megatron to a Lord of the Rings movie marathon. None of these seemed particularly likely for Prime himself, however. It was far more probable that there was some event he wished to view or participate in remotely. As one who kept the calendar for the entire base, I knew there was no event during those hours that could possibly involve Optimus Prime, unless he was using his holoform to help the humans pass their cleaning checks. A web seminar of some kind? An archaeology conference broadcast?

In my spare time, I researched various web-based media events, assembling a list of possible candidates. Ten days later, I had over two hundred possible events. This method was casting too wide of a net, so I brought up Prime's vacation with Iron Will. He was the only other clue to what Prime might be doing that day.

"He hasn't said anything about it to me," was Will's unhelpful answer when I asked him about it in the hallway.

"Optimus specifically mentioned spending time with you and your family."

"Huh. Sorry I can't help you, Prowl, but like I said, he hasn't said a word to me."

"Will you inform me if he does?"

He shrugged. "Sure. But couldn't you just ask him?"

"He is being uncooperative."

"Maybe he just wants a little privacy," Will said casually. "You know, peace and quiet."

"Perhaps. But he is the Prime and I cannot have him taking unnecessary risks. Without knowing more about his activities that day, I can't determine if he is in danger or not."

"If he's going to be on the island, how much trouble can he get into?"

"How much trouble could Skids and Mudflap get into? Prime is more intelligent, stronger, and in his time, was far more inventive."

He paused mid-stride and looked up at me. "Really? He was more trouble than those two when he was just a kid?"

"Yes. Unequivocally, by all accounts. He appears to have outgrown it millennia ago, but this is highly unusual behavior for him."

"Okay, point taken, then. I'll tell you if he tells me."

Fourteen days after Optimus requested time off, I posted the new duty roster for the next two weeks. Prime's ten hour block labeled "busy" didn't escape notice. Ironhide confronted him about it, but Optimus told him the same thing that he told me – he was spending the time in research and study.

My fellow Autobots were as curious as I was, and Jolt began a betting pool. For some reason, 'bots who should know better assumed that if they couldn't see me, I couldn't hear them.

"What's your money on?" the blue 'bot asked Sunstreaker and Sideswipe.

"Maybe he's taking cooking lessons from Spitfire," Sideswipe said. "If he's nice, she might even let him wear the pink, frilly apron."

The sound of metal clanking and a few human shouts of "Look out!" and "Knock it off!" told me all I needed to know about how Sunstreaker took this reminder of The Perfect Prank.

"Maybe he's meeting a femme," Mudflap suggested.

Another resounding clank, and Skids said, "You idiot, he's going to hang with Iron Will and Spitfire."

"So? Spitfire's a femme."

The sound of weapons fire reached me and Mudflap screamed as he fled, the Doppler effect making his voice gradually deeper. Arcee was shouting that Spitfire was both bonded and human, her tirade peppered with profanities. Her voice also gradually faded with distance. My job was always much easier with a femme or two around to lay down the law. When they weren't breaking it, that is.

"I bet he's going fishing," Epps said.

"Why?" Jolt asked, sounding aghast. I agreed with him. Why would Optimus Prime use primitive and inefficient methods to hunt for an energy source for which he had no use? And that's not including the distasteful elements like baiting the hook or cleaning the fish.

"Will likes to fish. Maybe he's going to teach Optimus."

"Okay," Jolt said, sounding dubious. "How much do you want to put on that one?"

"Ten bucks," he said. And then he lowered his voice. I had to strain my sensors to make out his words. "And another ten on him meeting up with a femme."

"But not Spitfire."

Epps made a disgusted sound. "No, an Autobot. Or a Cybertronian, at least."

"Good way to hedge your bet," Jolt said seriously.

And I would put ten dollars on Arcee requesting a change in the duty roster that would require a high-visibility assignment for her. And she was also likely to ask for a double shift so she'd be at work for everyone to see the entire time that Prime was gone. I sighed, already examining the roster for ways to make the change.

The next day, I overheard Jolt talking with Iron Will, and I zeroed in on their conversation. "What's your money on?"

"I don't think I want to make a bet."

"Come on, Will. Epps thinks you're taking Prime fishing."

He sighed. "I really can't think of anything."

Something about the tone of his voice was off. He was lying. I could smell a lie from a mile away, as the human saying went. I left my office and casually stood beside the door to the hangar. Using various sensors, I peered through the wall and examined Will. He shuffled his feet a little.

"But he's going to your house," Jolt prodded. "You really don't know?"

The human's heart-rate rose and his skin temperature fluctuated slightly as he prepared to lie again. "Look," he said, lowering his voice. "If I knew what he was doing, it wouldn't be very honest for me to place a bet, now would it?"

In an equally soft voice, Jolt answered, "Who said anything about being honest?"

Will snorted. "Fine, if you want to play it that way. I'll put one dollar on him playing hooky on the mainland to go sight-seeing in Australia."

"But Prowl asked if he needed transportation, and Prime said he didn't."

"With his Blackbird armor, why would Prime need transportation?"

"Good point," Jolt said. "I've got you down for one dollar."

Hmm. I walked back to my desk, pondering their exchange. It was true that Prime had explicitly said he didn't need transportation. But he had also said he was staying put. Will was most likely trying to throw Jolt off the scent in an effort to protect Optimus' secret. I would have admired his loyalty, if it hadn't been so annoying. Perhaps he would be more honest with me, though. After all, I wasn't running a betting pool.