Starcrossed

by Gatekat

G1 AU, Jazz/Prowl, Jazz/Vortex Jazz is the second creation of a Noble House that's fallen on hard times. He's promised as the subordinate mate to a wealthy commoner in exchange for a great deal of credits. It's only when he meets his future mate that things get bad.

45. Healing Friends

Starcrossed 45: Healing Friends
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After three orns of downloading, Prowl's tac-net helpfully informed him that it would require an estimated six additional orns to process all the data, during which time the tac-net would be largely unavailable, but also a heavy drain on his systems. Recharge and other low-demand activities were recommended.

In short, he couldn't play Radiance's game at more than 1/10th real time.

After nine joors of recharge in the berth he had once shared with his mate, Prowl couldn't stand the restlessness anymore. He visited the washrack, polished himself, and checked the time. Optimus would be off duty in a couple breems. Prowl intended to meet him there, ensure he left on time and hope that the mech would indulge in entertaining an unpleasant Prowl.

When he got there, Optimus, of course, was still in his office sorting through reports, looking like he had no intention of stopping any time soon, with a full cube of energon sitting on the corner of his desk, completely forgotten.

It should have been gone six joors before and Prowl scowled as he walked in, his frame rigid and doorwings fanned out in a perfect parade stance. "Prime, it is not good for the army for you to neglect yourself."

Optimus's head jerked up, startled from his concentration, not having realized Prowl was there. "Prowl!" he said. "I didn't realize-I didn't know you were up!"

"The procedure was successful, though it did require me to download all available tactical data immediately. The tac-net is extremely ... unpleasant ... when it is not fed." Prowl said, his tone deadpan as he stepped closer. "I now have six orns of medical leave while the tac-net processes what it downloaded. Drink your energon, sir. It is not good for moral to see their leader in less than optimal condition."

Optimus scowled at him. "You sound like Ratchet," he said, but obediently lifted the energon and drank, muttering, "Am not in less than optimal condition, no one knows where my office is anyway."

Prowl raised an optic ridge at that. "I do. Ratchet does. Anyone who checks the base schematic can find out. You are not invisible."

Optimus gave him a look but finished the cube and set it down. "There, all refueled and ready for the strenuous process of report reading. But besides the installation being successful, how are you?"

"Apparently with a better sense of time than you, sir," Prowl said dryly, though there was a tiny flicker of amusement in his field. "You are off duty in a klik and a half."

"A Prime's duty never officially ends, Prowl," Optimus told him very matter-of-factly, noting that the mech actually shifted away fractionally at the statement. "I'll leave as soon as I'm done with these."

"Estimate on when that will be?" Prowl's voice quieted and lost the authoritative edge he'd come in with.

Optimus paused, startled by the shift, and looked back up. He'd been expecting Prowl to respond more similarly to Ratchet did to that kind of argument-pointed reminders that his frame still needed the same amount of rest and fuel or he'd be a very useless Prime-and the way Prowl's voice had deflated was proving to be a much more effective technique. He glanced down at the datapads, back at his internal chronometer, and stood. "Right now," he said, optics glowing warmly. "I would like to hear more about how the tac-net is suiting you."

Doorwings lifted minutely. It was a tiny sign from a mech not prone to strong visible display, but Optimus saw it. He felt the happiness in Prowl's field as well, as muted as that was.

"It is far less difficult than Ratchet feared," Prowl said simply as he walked with Optimus out of the office. "It is very demanding, but up front and clear in what it wants. It has also been programmed with a suitable level of respect for the needs of the frame and primary processor that provides it with continuing function. We are still getting used to each other, but I believe it is a good match and integration will come with experience."

Optimus nodded, pleased to hear that his medic's worries about the installation had not panned out. "And you? Are you..." He trailed off for a moment, trying to think of the appropriate word. "Pleased? With the results?"

Prowl paused even longer than Optimus had. "I am already more content with my existence than I have been in many vorns. As I adapt to the tac-net I believe that will continue. I believe 'pleased' is a reasonable assessment at this point in time, though my access to emotional protocols is more limited than I expected. It is difficult to express it in such terms."

"I'm glad I was able to work on your spark as much as I did," Optimus said, carefully teeking and monitoring. "These protocols seem very strict. Do you ... think you might be able to find a function in this?"

"Yes." Of that Prowl was certain. "Protocols will be adapted as I grow accustomed to the new systems. It is best to set firm boundaries with such powerful hardware so it does not overwrite me, and I cannot accidentally cripple it. While it is not a full sentience, the tac-net is a powerful adaptive AI in its own right. We must adapt to each other before strict boundaries are softened to improve efficiency."

"I am glad to hear it," Optimus said as they reached his chambers. He paused outside the door, looking at Prowl. "Would you like to stay the night, or would solitude be preferable?"

"I found you because solitude was making it difficult to recharge," Prowl admitted softly, still uneasy with the statement and all the implications attached. "I still miss him."

"I don't know that you ever won't," Optimus said, not hiding the pleasure in his field that Prowl wished to stay. He hadn't seen his friend in five orns, which was an unusually long time for them in recent decaorns. They entered the Prime's quarters, going through familiar routines and motions together until they were curled together in Optimus's berth. "I think Ratchet was so worried because you actually get me to recharge on time somehow," he said teasingly.

"Then he will be pleased that I still desire your company for it," Prowl felt himself relax, frame and processors. He was safe here. Safe in this mech's arms. Safe in this berth. He still missed his mates, Jazz still almost desperately, but he could not deny that he recharged better here. That it also kept his Prime, his newest charge, safe and recharging more often was no small amount of encouragement either.

"Very much," Optimus said with a smile in his field, stroking along Prowl's side. "Does philosophy still interest you, or is that too abstract?"

Prowl turned that over in his processors several times. "It does, though I am not sure how flexible I am now. The tac-net has made me even more fond of order, regulations and probabilities than I used to be."

Optimus nodded. "And interfacing, relationships?" he asked, the question holding no demands or wish for the answer to be one thing or another.

"I do not know, though I was warned that the safety systems for the tac-net will make an overload unlikely without reconfiguring my interface systems to trip at a much lower charge," Prowl explained. "A relationship?" he stilled, his field in turmoil. "I have had perfection, a full triad. No. I have not been willing to do that since Radiance grayed out in my arms."

Optimus nodded, well understanding that answer, and nuzzled. "Would that high of a charge damage the tac systems, then? Is there anything I should be careful about?"

"That is my understanding. There are charge-sinks to safeguard the most vulnerable of them. Wheeljack and Ratchet, as well as my own assessment, say that I should not have to be careful. Though much thinner, my armor is still combat grade. I do not have a significant change in balance, strength or movement. Being a mobile tactical center means that I may be required near the front lines and that was taken into account in the design. My targeting, combat and weapon systems and protocols are still fully functional, though all but one of my built-in energy weapons were removed. That one will damage systems to use, but it is better to be damaged than deactivated. As much as it will hamper me in the field, I have not truly been a field agent since I enlisted. This upgrade just makes me that much more unsuitable for most field missions," Prowl rattled off, absently noting that he was far more chatty now, even as there was less personal connection to his words.

Optimus listened quietly, absently stroking the plating and nodding. "And the sorcelling systems are gone, correct? I heard Wheeljack saying they would probably need to be removed."

"Yes, they are going to be installed in Whiplash if I understood his questioning correctly," Prowl gave a faint smile for the memory of the very, very excited little mech. It was entirely like a mechling being told he was going to have his interface systems turned on. It was cute in a disturbing kind of way, given who it was.

Optimus chuckled and shook his head. "Oh, dear," he sighed exaggeratedly. "So not only will he be able to disappear into a shadow, he'll be able to leave it looking nothing like himself. That bodes well for no one."

"Don't threaten his agents and you'll have little to worry about. He'll focus on the Decepticons," Prowl gave an odd sort of purr.

Optimus just nodded. "And you?" he asked quietly. "Has your focus remained the same?"

Prowl stilled, his focus turning inward to track complex priority trees to their roots.

"No," Prowl answered quietly with an echo of how bereft that left him, slightly adrift, until his tac-net noticed his state and focused on him enough to set the answer and sooth his distress.

"And your new focus?" the Prime asked his soldier, as Optimus held Prowl tightly until the anxiety had fully settled.

"Ending the war," Prowl's voice was dull. There was little enthusiasm for the goal, but there was a solid dedication to it.

A single, satisfied nod was Optimus's response. "I will look into getting you greater access and resources, once we all understand your tac-net and its capabilities further," he promised.

"Greater access and resources?" Prowl repeated, trying to understand the statement. What did SpecOps not have access to?

"To more of the army," Optimus said. "If the tac-net is as effective as predicted, you will be the one instructing the commanders, instead of being instructed by them. Higher rank, more influence."

He teeked how startled Prowl was. Several responses came and went before he managed to twist the statement into something he could accept. "If that is the best choice."

"You will still be taking your orders from me," the Prime rumbled in reply. "No matter where you are placed, it will be where I want you to be serving."

A low, soft purr rumbled up from Prowl's engine. That was how it should be.

Optimus understood fully, and nuzzled him, purring in answer.

SxSxSxSxSxSxSxSx S===================S SxSxSxSxSxSxSxS

Slightly over a vorn after Prowl's tac-net installation, Optimus Prime found himself walking through Special Operations' headquarters, seeking its small, matte black commander. He wasn't in his office, but Optimus was content to walk through the twisting hallways, exploring the base he had so far seen relatively little of. The agents he passed all gave him startled looks before collecting themselves enough to salute properly, and as he expected, before long, Whiplash had found him instead. He had no doubt that every agent who'd seen him had run right to him to alert him of the intruder they were not allowed to remove.

Occasionally, it was good to be the Prime.

"What do you need?" Whiplash asked ... and he was actually asking, rather than demanding or snarling.

"I was looking for you, actually," Optimus said, unable to quite hide the amusement in his field at how quickly he'd been discovered. "I'd like to talk about Prowl, if you have the time, or arrange an appointment."

"Has he raised some concern with you?" Whiplash asked even as he motioned the much, much larger mech to follow him to his office.

"Not at all," Optimus said, carefully measuring his paces in order to keep even. "I wanted an update about how he has been using his tac-net and how efficiently he has been able to employ it."

"He's already more than balanced any cost involved in it, including all the damage Wheeljack managed to do up to now," Whiplash wasn't at all shy about bragging about either of his prize non-standard agents. "He was a brilliant manager before. Now I'm quite sure he could manage the entirety of the empire at its height. The glitches are manageable in a controlled environment, which he has, and are likely to lessen as he and the tac-net adapt. So far I've mostly asked him to find and select the most important targets and propose which agents to send. I haven't disagreed with him yet."

Optimus hummed. "And what about directing larger groups, special task teams and the like? How has he done with those?"

Whiplash warily regarded the mech he didn't even reach the waist of. "He's done search and rescue and SWAT tactics in the sims and submitted a few plans I've added to the roster. I've heard some mumbling about a plan to defend Iacon from the next big assault, but not from Prowl."

"If you were to extrapolate on his ability to work with larger numbers?" Optimus asked casually.

"It's always been his weakness," Whiplash shrugged and entered a briefing room instead of his office out of courtesy for Optimus Prime's size. "He was bred, raised, trained, upgraded and experienced with directly managing a single household or unit even smaller," he began at he relaxed into the chair that was always his, motioning to a much larger one that was usually given to a team's transport, often a shuttle. "He's exceptional at it. On a larger scale he only did top-level administration, given broad orders and trusting lower-ranked commanders to carry them out in a way that suited the local household. What he's really good at in large scale is supply management. But mecha ... he's still got a lot of issues when it comes to handling armies, even if Smokescreen admits he's getting better at it."

"I would like large scale management and direction to become a top priority in his training," Optimus said. "With regular updates. Beyond that how is he handling the tac-net?"

Whiplash straightened sharply with a flash across his matte black visor. "You intend to take him from me."

Optimus raised a single optic ridge at his commander. "I intend to employ him in the manner in which he will be most useful for the overall good of Cybertron," he said calmly.

The lithe minibot huffed. "Different words, same effect. I wish I could accuse you of favoring your lover, but even I know it's not true." He huffed again. "But tell me why and I'll do it."

"Because there is no loss in transferring him, and significant potential for gain," Optimus said, as he nodded in thanks that Whiplash was not among the many who had made such accusations against the Praxian. "You will still have an entire tactical division, which Prowl will be able to oversee, the army as a whole stands to gain a great deal of efficiency, and on top of that, Prowl will be in a position better suited to him personally. It may even increase his efficacy by lowering his overall stress."

The last bit made Whiplash cock his helm and meet the Prime's optics. "He's not suited for Ops?"

"He's suited well enough," Optimus said slowly. "In that he can do the work competently, but he craves more structure than it can offer. He does he best work, I suspect, with a clear hierarchy, something that even you can admit Ops does not have. Along with routine, structure, and very clear boundaries. He has trouble seeing moral boundaries for himself, which I think you know."

"Yes, though he has stronger ones than Jazz did," Whiplash hummed. "That flexibility is a rare trait, Prime. One that is incredibly valuable to me. Though I admit I cannot argue that he would enjoy his existence more with the structure you would provide him."

Whiplash fell silent, his internal struggle not nearly as well hidden from the Prime as he would want it. In the end, his own morals decided it for him.

"You know about his surviving creations and his relationships with them?" Whiplash asked quietly.

"I do," Optimus murmured, nodding once. "Strained at worst, distant at best, although I believe he has hope for the twins still. It is not a topic we often broach."

Whiplash grunted agreement. "I'm sure he'll be grateful to be away from Smokescreen. 'Strained' is a polite way of describing it. Will you tell me why he's in your berth? Mech isn't one for sleeping around, unless it was part of the job."

Optimus looked startled by the question, and shifted a little uncomfortably. "Well," he mumbled, and the transformation from Prime to awkward mechling was something to behold, "Because he likes to cuddle as much as I do."

Whiplash stared, his processors clicking almost audibly, and suddenly he laughed, shaking his helm. "You are two of the least cuddly mecha I've ever met. Oh, I know Prowl's all touchy with his mates, but he has no use for touching with anyone else. Be careful with him, Prime." And now the words were a serious warning. "You can transfer him from Ops, but he'll always be one of mine. I don't take it well when one of mine is hurt."

"He is also one of mine," the Prime rumbled. "I take care of those that are mine."

SxSxSxSxSxSxSxSx S===================S SxSxSxSxSxSxSxS

"Primus it's nice to be in Iacon again," Sideswipe said, stretching as he walked, loosening everything out from the long drive. Their unit was being rotated back into the Autobot capital, to serve as border guards there for the next division cycle. It still didn't mean privacy, but it meant berths, real berths with actual padding, even if the padding was about as comfortable as scrap metal, it was the illusion of the thing that counted. "Remember off shifts?" Sideswipe grinned, looking around. "Remember this? No moment's-notice-get-your-afts-out-here-now?" In truth, that was what he was most looking forward to; the constant stress and unknown schedule was hard on Sunstreaker, and Sideswipe wanted him to have some more consistency.

"Remember wash racks?" Sunstreaker grunted and shoved him lightly, pointing out how filthy he was. "Right after we get cleaned up we can check out the main common room, see what kind of mecha are around."

"But I liked writing 'polish this' on your aft," Sideswipe said cheerfully as he altered his course immediately, heading for the washracks instead.

"And I like beating your helm in for it," Sunstreaker snarled at him, a sound that scattered a few mecha in the hall before them. "No excuse for looking like refugees from a Neutral camp any longer than absolutely required."

Sideswipe just grinned and silently agreed, optics not even so much as flickering at the snarl as they tracked the skittering steps of the mecha who were now quickly getting out of their way-habit, instinct, watching and judging the speed and agility of anyone close enough to be a threat. He knew Sunstreaker was doing the same thing, and it was almost a relief when they made it to the washracks without incident.

They cleaned thoroughly, helping each other in a perfectly synchronized and familiar routine that had been learned in washracks with walls dirtier than they were, better suited for a minibot. As tempting as it was sometimes to have his twin with loosened armor and standing right there, Sideswipe never broke from the cleaning routine; it wasn't worth it for the anxiety it would cause Sunstreaker. Being clean was more than vanity, it was survival. They could always tell who the other ranking gladiators were, whether they recognized the frames or not. Every last one of them had learned the same lesson the same way. They could always tell who wasn't a gladiator too, for the looks the pair got. Most frontliners didn't take nearly the care with their appearance as they did, but most frontliners hadn't grown up the way they had.

Getting clean, dry, polished and waxed ate half the free time before lights out on their first night here and they still hadn't seen their bunks, but there was no way it wasn't worth it. Even Sideswipe noticed how three joors of effort had elevated his mental state noticeably. The effect on his brother was even more noticeable, at least to him. Most of the others would never pick it out, but Sideswipe knew that a good-looking Sunstreaker was a far less aggressive Sunstreaker and that could make the difference between recharging in a berth and recharging in the brig tonight.

If at all possible, he really, really wanted to recharge in a berth.

But before that, they'd seen the same faces with only the variety of their 'Con attackers for vorns, and Sideswipe was dying to fix that. He dragged the much-more-compliant Sunstreaker with him to the nearest rec room, the giant social hub for infantry, where anyone could come any time of orn to reminisce about high grade and socialize.

"Society!" Sideswipe said, holding his arms out as they entered the sparsely populated room.

"Not much of it," Sunstreaker huffed even as he swept the space with sharp blue optics and selected a table near enough to the largest gathering to join if they wanted, or to just listen and settle back into the so-called "society" slowly if not.

"It's still an improvement," Sideswipe said, sitting next to him and laying his head on his shoulder, audials trained around them, picking up on the conversation from the larger group.

"Nah, see," one of the grounders was saying after a round of laughter died down, "What I want to know is how to get the gig as Prime's berthwarmer! That would be the best job to have!"

"Step one would be to get rid of his current one," someone snickered. "Not like anybody'd miss the glitch."

"He must have something going for him!" a minibot groused. "Prime made him tactical SIC, brought him out of nowhere. Mech didn't even exist before that."

"Seriously!" came the exasperated response. "We checked out his enlistment file once and it was an amnesty deal kind of thing, and then he was shuffled right into SpecOps, no one hears from him for vorns, and suddenly he's spreading for the Prime and getting all kinds of benefits!"

"Who is it?" a new voice asked curiously, and the twins recognized that one, a small, scrappy grounder from their unit. "Anyone to look out for?"

"Prowl. Black and white Praxian, red chevron, insufferably stuffy and by the book," came the sneer of an answer. "Unless you want brig time, stay the Pit away from him. Mech's nothing but trouble for the rest of us."

"Yeah, he's so full of himself since he got the Prime's berth, like he owns the army or something," another added.

"Got it," the mech chuckled, while Sideswipe and Sunstreaker frowned, sat up straight, and looked at each other.

"He got some kind of fancy tech installed," one of the others continued. "Not long after he started staying nights with Prime. Then, yeah, instant promotion. He must be spectacular in berth because he's about as interesting as rust otherwise."

As much as he tried, Sideswipe couldn't quite stop himself from doing a quick standing turnabout, the soft growl in his engines shocking him even as it rumbled up. "Sorry-did I hear Prowl? That was the designation?"

"Yeah, Prowl, the black and white Praxian," the mech looked up at him as the entire table tensed, seeing the two frontliners taking them in. The mech who knew them beat a hasty retreat out of assault range but stayed close enough to hear, and maybe even back them up. "What's he to you?"

"Nothing," Sideswipe said defensively, startled by the question and his own reaction. "But mechs, seriously, are you sure what you think is happening is what's really happening? I mean, where the frag is Jazz in all this?"

"Jazz?" one of them repeated blankly.

"Oh, him?" the one who'd looked up Prowl's records said. "That was the one he enlisted with, they entered under the same plea bargain. He's deactivated, took less than a metacycle for Prowl to get in with Prime after." He snorted. "Some devoted mate."

Sideswipe glanced at his brother, and even Sunstreaker shook his head in disbelief.

"Must have taken a hard hit to the helm," the yellow warrior muttered. "That's not the Prowl we met."

"Yeah, well," the grounder said, "Whatever happened to him, he's sitting cozy up top now and you don't want to get in his way."

"We'll keep that in mind," Sideswipe said, frowning deeply.

Sunstreaker nudged Sideswipe to leave and stalked through the halls, following a map and location ping from the mainframe through places they'd never been. Prowl was listed as in his office in the Tactical division's quarter, well below the main levels of the base. Security was visibly better when they reached it, but they weren't challenged for more than their ID pings until they reached the hall that lead to the tactical mainframe and officer's offices.

"Right," the guard laughed as soon as they told him what they wanted. "Because we let just anyone in to see Prowl without an appointment."

"Look, just give him our designations," Sideswipe said. "He'll make time."

The guard scowled at them, but it wasn't actually an unreasonable statement, so he pinged Prowl on low priority. In less than half a klik the Tactical SIC responded.

::Sideswipe and Sunstreaker want to see you. No appointment,:: the guard relayed.

There was a startled sound on Prowl's side of the comm, then, ::Let them in.::

The guard's equally startled look was enough of an answer for the twins, who smirked at the mech as they went by, following the hallways around until they reached Prowl's office, finding the door already open for them.

"Um, hey," Sideswipe said, poking his head around, forcing a smile as he took in a fairly large room utterly devoid of decoration. There was a small desk and terminal in one corner and the bulk of the space taken up by a tactical table.

Prowl looked up at them, his features blank, but he motioned them in. "I'm afraid I do not have visitors often enough to have chairs. I did not realize you had arrived yet."

"And you probably weren't expecting to see us even when we had," Sideswipe offered with a shrug and a grin as they walked in, canvassing the room and settling into easy stances near the desk. Sunstreaker snorted in agreement with that statement.

"No, but I would have known to look for you," Prowl responded. "I admit I am surprised you came to find me."

"Yeah, well," Sideswipe said, shrugging uncomfortably and glancing at his twin. "We're as surprised as you are, I think. We heard some chatter..."

Sunstreaker growled soft and deep, a sound that was felt more than heard as the frontliner's engines hummed dangerously.

"And we just sort of, I guess, we were curious, because it sounded strange," Sideswipe finished.

"Please be more specific. I do not keep up on base gossip. That is a different unit," Prowl explained.

"It was about-" Sunstreaker began.

"What happened to Jazz?" Sideswipe blurted, getting a startled look from his twin. The reaction from Prowl was unmistakable as intense grief and loss as his doorwings dropped and optics dimmed to a pale white.

"He was on a mission. I made physical contact with every mechanical in the prison camp, from guards to drones. Decepticons don't keep good records, but we searched the prisoners and guards that had been moved out. Hunted for him. Eventually even I accepted he had been deactivated in the cave-in and smelted down." Prowl's voice quieted every couple glyphs and hitched in places until it was barely more than a whisper.

"Oh," Sideswipe said quietly. "Um. I'm sorry."

Sunstreaker huffed. "Yeah, that's a downer and all, but the rest of it was that you're in with the Prime and that's why you got promoted. But we know that isn't true, because our processors didn't come from nowhere."

"Right," Sideswipe said, shaking himself. "And we just wanted to see what all that was about. Less than a metacycle, really?"

Prowl gave them a look that was even more blank than before that slowly faded to confused. "I spend a great deal of my free time with Prime, true. He offered a healing merge a few orns after I accepted that Jazz was gone. As much as it hurt, it did help. We learned we have more in common than I expected. It is nice to talk with someone who can disagree and remain rational. He's well educated now."

The twins were just staring at him.

"Healing merge and being friends is one thing," Sideswipe said. "But 'facing him?"

"Did you actually get hit in the helm?" Sunstreaker asked with no pause for Prowl to reply, peering at him.

Prowl cycled his optics as it hit him and he had to bite back a laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of it. "Let's back up. Was the rumor that I'm in some kind of relationship with the Prime?"

"The word 'berthwarmer' came up a few times," Sideswipe said, frowning.

"And 'spreading it for him,'" Sunstreaker rumbled.

"And extra upgrades and promotions," the red twin finished.

"I don't suppose you have the ID pings or designations of any of them? This will need to be addressed." Prowl rubbed the center of his chevron, which still proudly bore the engraved glyph of his triad. "The upgrades had been planned for vorns, though I didn't know about it. It took Wheeljack more than three decades to make the new tac-net functional. The timing may have been coincidental to Jazz's loss or not. I would not put it past Whiplash to consider such things in timing the offer to me. As for being a berthwarmer ... I am no more that for Prime than he is for me, in a very literal sense. We both recharge better with another warm frame. He lost his mate and I lost mine. You take comfort where and how you can find it. That's all it is between us."

"Oh," the twins said in unison.

"Yeah well, that makes a lot more sense," Sunstreaker muttered.

"Yeah, we can get those designations," Sideswipe said, nodding. "Glitches."

"Thank you," Prowl said.

"So ... but you did get hit in the helm?" Sunstreaker asked. "You're being even more ... you."

"My tac-net is now the primary influence on my behavior," Prowl attempted to explain. "There is very little left over after its needs are met."

The twins glanced at each other.

"Makes sense," Sideswipe said cheerfully. "So other than life being as nice as slag, how are you?"

Prowl had to pause to try to answer that, since the tac-net recognized it as a question not meant for it.

"Ready to extinguish. I am tired of hurting."

Quiet empathy came from the twins.

"'S a rough life," Sunstreaker said. "You just keep facing one battle after the next until you're done."

"Such is our lot, it seems," Prowl responded quietly. "I am pleased that you survived your rotation, and you could get your face fixed," he glanced towards Sunstreaker.

"Uh, fixed?" the yellow warrior looked at him in confusion. His optics brightened with comprehension when Prowl traced the lines Jazz's claws had followed vorns before on his own faceplates. "Nah, that healed up like always. Just takes a while."

"That should not have healed by self-repair," Prowl half-mused.

"Stuff like that always does," Sideswipe said, shrugging as he shot his twin a half grin. "Keeps him handsome."

Sunstreaker shoved him. "That one of those noble protoform things?" he asked Prowl curiously.

"No, something far more unique," he hummed. "You may have inherited something from Jazz and I that no one realized could be passed on. Have you ever looked significantly different than this?"

"Well, there was the Bladed Brothers gig which looked nothing like us, but those were rebuilds," Sideswipe said, catching how startled Prowl looked despite the muted reactions.

"Those were you?" Prowl looked between them, his doorwings raised slightly. "Silver and gold, wheeled pedes, long built-in arm blades."

"Yeah, that was it!" Sideswipe said, grinning. "See our posters? We were pretty fine, weren't we, Sunny?"

Sunstreaker gave his brother a patiently tolerant look. "Those finishes smeared when they got looked at, Sides," he said. "I, at least, was glad to see that look go."

"We were there, in the audience, when you fought the Battlechargers," Prowl almost stammered. "Yes, you were very fine. Exceptional fighting too. We couldn't get close enough to teek if either set was actually you."

"The Battlechargers were definitely twins," Sunstreaker grumbled as Sideswipe continued to grin at the compliment. "No unbonded pair moves like that together."

"Made for a fantastic show, though," Sideswipe said. "I remember that crowd, our handler got us some of the best energon we've ever had after that one."

"You were ... still looking for us, after all that time?" Sunstreaker asked.

"Yes. There was rumor that twin gladiators were going to be fighting. We were already in Kaon hunting Decepticons, but it was too good a chance at finding you to pass up. We were hoping for a shot at Megatron or Vortex too, since Megatron sponsored the games. We didn't see them, and couldn't get close enough to any of the gladiators to try to teek." Prowl explained, now regretting that he hadn't tried harder, that he'd convinced himself that his duty to his creations was long over when they had been so close. "We could have found a way to get you out, if you'd wanted out."

Sideswipe shrugged a bit. "'S all right," he said.

Sunstreaker turned a sudden scowl on him. "No, Sides, it really isn't," he said. He looked coldly back at Prowl. "You obviously have work to do, and we have a berth calling for us."

"Go then. Recharge," Prowl's harmonics were of understanding and smooth acceptance. Both of Sideswipe's attempt at making him feel better and Sunstreaker's anger. "I will look you up when we are both off shift soon," he added to Sideswipe, though the glyphs made it clear he intended it to be both of them.

SxSxSxSxSxSxSxSx S===================S SxSxSxSxSxSxSxS

After the third round of Sovereign in which Optimus actually came close to beating Prowl and his companion's energon ration still hadn't been touched, he decided that the strange teek he was getting was more than just ornly stress. "Something stealing thinking power?" he asked.

Prowl looked up at him, startled. "I had a most unsettling encounter today. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker have rotated back to Iacon and heard a few things they found disturbing enough to find me and question me directly about." He hesitated, then plunged forward. "It seems some mecha, perhaps many, believe I am your berthwarmer."

Optimus frowned deeply, leaning back in his chair and steepling his fingers together as he considered all the different pieces of information in those words. "That must be addressed immediately, personal slander of that kind against a ranking officer is unacceptable."

"It should be done carefully, Optimus," Prowl cautioned from a niggling by seneschal coding. "It is already believed that my upgrades and rank were acquired by interfacing with you."

Optimus's engines rumbled with displeasure. "Nothing could be farther from the truth. I will look into it, and let the more socially connected officers advise me. Other than that, how was seeing the twins?" he asked, with concern-laced subharmonics as he reached across to cover Prowl's hand with his own.

"It was good to know they survived," Prowl gave a small smile. "It was good to see them again, no matter how difficult it is to see what happened to them. I also learned that we saw them in an arena fight in Kaon. We were so close, and didn't see it."

Optimus squeezed gently, his hand large and strong enough to crush Prowl's if he were to use force. "They are survivors, like you. They have each other, no matter the past. It cannot be changed, only recovered from."

"Yes. It still affects us, particularly Sunstreaker. He has recovered little since their escape, and I grieve for what he continues to lose for it," Prowl admitted. "They are still my youngest, and Sideswipe the only of my creations that is willing to be civil with me."

"I'm sorry," Optimus murmured, stroking with his thumb and warmed by how Prowl and leaned into the contact, frame and field. "Tell me more about them, who they are today? Considering their creators, I'm sure they are spectacular mecha."

"Their upbringing after their youngling upgrades did much of the shaping. First youngling pit fighting, then gladiators. When Smokescreen rescued them they were among the top teams in the empire, but they were still slaves. It shows a lot in how they move, how they think, and I'm very sure it's responsible for Sunstreaker's glitch. He was maturing into a mech that could have become a seneschal. Not of my grade, but good enough for my kin to claim with some pride. Smart, observant, measured in his reactions, protective of what was his and very good at following orders. He had a talent for art. Now ... he's violent, ill-tempered and has more hate in him than I know how to reach through. He was the one I had claimed as mine, back when we had to pretend that we each carried one of them. I can't reach him anymore."

"Hate has claimed too many sparks," Optimus said sadly. "That he has a brother he loves may well have saved him from being completely destroyed. What is his glitch?"

"Once a violent reaction is triggered, there is no way to stop him until either he or his targets are no longer able to move," Prowl murmured. "He's a berserker."

"...Ah," Optimus said, and sighed. "A very useful trait in a frontliner, unfortunately. Sideswipe is recovering better, though?"

"He seems to be. He was always the more social one and still is. He was the one willing to let me keep in contact when we stumbled across each other." Prowl x-vented deeply. "Of the five of us, he fakes being sane and stable the best, not that it's much of a level." A fond smile crossed his features. "Well, maybe Jazz could fake it better, but only when he felt like it. Sunstreaker and I were always too introverted and smart to seem normal, even before we were damaged."

Optimus reached across with his other hand to stroke gentle fingers across Prowl's chevron, helm, and then down to press his palm against his face, thumb going over his lips while he smiled sadly. "They take care of each other?"

"Yes," Prowl leaned into the touch, welcoming the comfort and kissed the thumb caressing his lip plates. "They're all they've ever had to rely on, much as I still wish it otherwise. They protect each other, take care of each other ... they do love each other deeply, even if neither will ever admit it. They have that, at least."

Optimus's field warmed at the kiss, continuing to trace slowly. "I'm glad they survived," he murmured. "There is hope for you to come to know them again, if we ever survive this war."

"I am working on that," Prowl murmured as arousal licked at the edges of his field. "For tonight, I believe the best use of our energy is to overload, and then have a good night's recharge. You feel good to be inside, and you stretch me so exquisitely."

Optimus's optics brightened in a smile and he nodded once. "I would enjoy that very much."