*gasp* Movieverse fic!
So... since about March I've been doing a fairly good job of updating here weekly (occassionally more, though not recently, and sometimes it was a little late like today). That's *counts on fingers* half a year-ish. Longer than I thought I'd be able to keep it up. I was able to clear some bunnies from my closet although whole new ones formed (like this one) and get a little farther in a few others.
I do, however, feel the need to take a brief hiatus. I'll still be writing, but I'll be trying to focus on some other projects, and catching up on posting the rest of my backlog elsewhere. I am going to try to resist the urge to post any stories I finish until after I come back from hiatus (unless it's Star Crossed, but I doubt I'll finish the next chapter, since I'm working on the finale). I'll be quiet for thereandabouts of a month's time.
Catch y'all on the flip side!
Title
Characters Sam, Prowl, Ironhide, Optimus, Ratchet, Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, Elita-One, leaving pairings for surprise ;P
Continuity Movie-verse
Rating K+
Summary New arrivals aren't all they're cut out to be.
Warnings Human swearing
Author's Notes Trying something out. Of note in this verse, since the Allspark is canonically the only source of life for these Transformers, the femmes serve a different purpose in their place as hubs. Instead of being a method of reproduction they are used as mediators. What makes me twitch about this fic is that I have just set myself up with a personal fanon-verse where Optimus/Megatron is actually possible. *twitch twitch headdesk* owwwwwwwww.
Sam couldn’t help the unease that clenched his gut as he saw the black and white vehicle sitting where Bumblebee usually met him.
It wasn’t Barricade.
He could tell that much, the pattern of the paint didn’t match the Decepticon patrol car. He snuck a glance at the rear, seeing that it didn’t have the mocking motto of 'Punish and Enslave' nor was there a purple insignia neatly stuck within the shield. He paused by the car, eying it uncertainly. He edged a little closer, glancing around the school grounds to see if anyone else was watching him. Seeing no one, he took a deep breath to calm his racing heart.
“Hey,” he muttered out of the side of his mouth. “Please don’t let me look like an idiot, can you talk?”
The vehicle’s engine startled him nearly out of his shoes and he jumped back a few feet.
A flicker caught his eye and he looked up in time to see a man appear behind the wheel; an invitation to step closer.
Sam pressed himself against the neighboring car, still trying for those calming breaths that weren’t really helping.
“Samuel James Witwicky?”
“It’s Sam.” Another not-so-calming breath.
The police car hesitated, if such a thing were plausible. “Sam, then. I am Prowl, recently arrived from Cybertron. I am here to retrieve you.”
“Bumblebee?”
The man in the car turned to look at him, and Sam realized that the chin was… wavering, as though his mouth were moving as he talked. “I am sorry to inform you that your guardian has been incapacitated by a Decepticon. I am here in his stead.”
Goosebumps rippled across his arms, and he shivered in a sudden chill. “How do I know you’re telling the truth? I didn’t know we had any new arrivals.” Introducing the new arrivals to their liason was one of the first thing the Autobots made sure to do now.
“The Code that I follow is ingrained into my very spark. I cannot lie. This is my opportunity to meet you. Will you come inside?” The backdoor popped open, waiting.
Sam hissed between his teeth and only hesitated a second more before he clambered into the back of the patrol car.
“Great, now it looks like I’m going to jail,” Sam groused at no one in particular, ducking his head so he didn’t have to see anyone noticing.
“I apologize.” Suddenly the car shifted, even as Prowl reversed out of the parking space. The passenger seat in the front suddenly folded down and disappeared and Sam’s seat whirred and jolted to the front.
Sam stared about him in surprise at finding himself in the front of the car. “I didn't know you guys could do that,” he murmured once again to no one in particular. “Is 'Bee going to be okay?”
“It is nothing to alter our interior,” Prowl explained, easily weaving his way through afternoon traffic.
Sam waited, but when nothing more was forthcoming, he thought maybe Prowl had missed his (more obvious) question. “Do you know if 'Bee's going to be all right?”
“Bumblebee should be fine in the care of a qualified medic.”
“So Ratchet shouldn't have any problems fixing him up, then?”
“No, he should not.”
“That's good to know.” Sam released a breath he didn't even realize he'd been holding. He sat in a slightly agitated silence, worried over his friend until he finally broke out into another question. “How long have you been here? You seem to know your way around, not that any of you guys have any trouble with directions, but you seem to know what you need to do and everything.”
Prowl swerved gently in his lane in what Sam recognized as an indifferent shrug. “I researched the protocols for meeting with humans extensively on your World Wide Web.”
“At least you didn't look at the dating sites.” Sam buried his face in his hands, cheeks burning with the memory of being hit upon by the twin Lamborghinis. “God, that was embarassing.”
“I am capable of differentiating between normal social behaviors and mating rituals.”
The sound of a motorcycle coming up in the next lane had Sam turning his head, admiring the high purr of the small bike. “I hate to tell you this, Prowl, but a lot of normal social behavior involve mating rituals. At least that's what Ratchet says.”
A small pink bike drew closer, weaving into the emergency lane to move around another car. The rider didn't even flinch as he (what the hell kind of guy rides a rose pink cycle?) squeezed past two cars.
“That is a fact that I will do my best to retain, thank you.”
Sam straightened, mouth hanging open as the rider pulled another daring pass, swinging into the non-existent breakdown lane.
“What in the world?”
A gap appeared in traffic next to Prowl. The bike leapt in-between the cars, swinging right for the seemingly oblivious Prowl.
Sam shrieked, heart in his throat, as the motorcycle headed straight for him, the rider not even glancing toward him. “Holy fucking Christ!””
~*~*~*~
“The boy isn't here, Prime.”
Optimus stood before the monitors set into the control room of their base and vented a sigh. “And what of Bumblebee?”
“The other younglings thought Sam was skipping school. Bumblebee hasn't been here since this morning. School records indicate that he attended every class.” A disgruntled buzz, like the shorting of a circuit, hissed over the channel. “I don't like this, Prime.”
Ironhide didn't have to say that Bumblebee would never leave Sam unmonitored without good cause. Nor that the good cause would likely be for another's malicious intent. He didn't have to express his concern over Sam not waiting for one of them. Ever since the attack while he was with his parents, he realized how necessary his guardians were.
“Circle the area and see if you can locate Bumblebee, Ironhide. Give me regular updates.” Optimus switched channels even as Ironhide transmitted his acknowledgement. “Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, return to base.” Another channel. “Ratchet...”
“Right here.” The medic stepped into the control room, taking a place next to the larger Autobot. “There's a Decepticon coming. And another, but I can't...”
The proximity alarms interrupted Ratchet, alerting the mechs to the presence of two Cybertronians entering the perimeter. A very old security code blipped across the screen, but that particular pattern hadn't been used since shortly after the war had started.
Prime stared at the code, his spark contracting in his chest. Muted ethereal fingers brushed across his being, and he stiffened in disbelief. ‘It can’t be…’ He turned from the monitor, taking long strides for the exterior hatch.
“Prime?”
“Prime, I’ve located Bumblebee. Someone has put him through the compactor. It isn’t pretty.”
Optimus paused, accessing the controls via a remote signal. “Are you going to require assistance bringing him back to base?”
Ironhide harrumphed. “I’ve got that covered. Ratchet’s going to need to be handy though.”
“We also have a Decepticon heading this way.”
“I’ll stash him somewhere safe then, and meet you.”
Ratchet followed Optimus out of the command center. “What about the other one?”
“I'll handle her.”
“Her...?” The large green medic jolted to a halt, glowing blue optics staring at his commander.
Optimus didn't wait for him. His power lines surged with the presence that nearness of the one coming. He couldn't feel anything more than that soft brushing against his spark and it worried him that she blocked herself from him.
The soft spring light warmed his plating as he stepped outside. The soft dirt beneath his feet shifted as he made his way away from the doors. Above the sound of the wind, and the birds, and the chorus of insects that surrounded their base he could hear the thrum of approaching engines.
Ratchet stepped out just as two Lamborghini swung around the hump that was the door in the ground and swirled to their feet, priming their guns.
“What the slag is going on?”
“We picked up a 'con signature heading this way.”
A whispered warning had Optimus turning on his two elite warriors with a cutting gesture. “You are not to fire until I tell you.”
“Sam...” Ratchet murmured, optics lighting with the realization.
Sideswipe swore roundly. “For the love of the Pit! Couldn't you have waited till then to call us back?”
Ratchet's hand shifted, the saw swinging out of his arm. “Then it would have been too late. Ironhide is delayed as is-” Ratchet stopped and frowned down the winding trail that led to their base. “He stopped.”
Optimus shook his head. “The other hasn't.”
The high pitched whine of a small, four cylinder motor reached their audio and a pink bike rounded the corner, rider dissolving into particles of light. Sunstreaker and Sideswipe stiffened, cannons lifted as the bike headed straight for their commander.
A shriek pierced the green surroundings, as the bike launched itself into the air. A whirring of motors and the bike suddenly became a lithe frame, tires spinning on the shoulders. The pink femme tackled Optimus, gun slipping out of her arm and golden optics blazing. Her small form bounced off the semi's and she leapt to her feet.
“Where is he?”
She didn't wait for Prime to speak, but knocked his feet from under him only to thrust her gun toward the twin warriors aiming at her. “What have you done with him?” Another pulsebeat and a shot landed at their feet. “Answer me!”
“Elita, calm down.”
Sideswipe and Sunstreaker jerked at the name, but their weapons lowered and they backed away. She glanced from one to the other, before slapping her barrel down to Optimus' spark chamber.
“Tell me what you did with Megatron.”
“The humans took him-”
“Humans?? You let the humans have him?” Suddenly on her feet, she sneered down at Optimus. “I have been through the Pits and back for you, I suffer for your cause, and this is what you tell me! That you let the humans take him.” The gun hummed to life, and thrust toward him. “Tell me why I shouldn't empty your place in my spark as well?”
“I didn't destroy him, Elita. I couldn't.”
She narrowed her optics, but otherwise remained quiescent.
“There was a human boy...”
The trees rustled and suddenly a Decepticon registered on Optimus' sensors. Optimus lunged upward, throwing Elita to the ground and lifting his own arm gun toward the sound.
“I would not do that, Optimus.” A black and white mech stepped through the trees, red horns glinting in the light. But it was the smaller form in the curl of the strong, sharp fingers that caught Optimus' attention.
“Let him go, Prowl.” Prime moved over Elita, covering her from the Decepticon's line of fire. “He has nothing to do with this.”
“I do not think so, Optimus. Were you not about to say something in regards to this organic creature?” The fingers shifted, squeezing a choked squeak out of the small mouth.
Prowl fell silent, not even sparing any of the other three a glance. He tilted his head as Optimus didn't say anything and again a whisper touched his spark. Elita twisted under Optimus, kicking at him even as she transformed. Metal bent and shredded as her edges swung about and against his plating.
His fingers slid over the sleek frame of the bike as she thrust herself away from him, swinging a wide circle around the Autobots. She tore into dirt as she transformed again, her momentum carrying her the last few steps to the Decepticon in their midst.
Optimus rose to his feet, alarmed at her apparently suicidal actions. “Elita, get away from him. He's a Decepticon.”
Yet Prowl didn't move as she placed herself squarely between the Autobot's guns and the black and white mech, a useless gesture with her height, but it spoke a message so clear that even the twins lowered their weapons.
“You think I don't know that?” Her optics burned in her face, mouth set in a fierce snarl, wheels spinning on her back. “Where the Pits do you think I've been all these millennia? Not with you, Autobots, oh no. You thought me safer with Megatron, you knew that if you took me, he'd do anything to get me back, and the destruction before that would be nothing to what he would cause. The lives risked weren't worth it. Isn't that what you told me, Optimus? 'Talk to him, Elita, show him that he is wrong.' And then you left me.” She stalked towards Optimus, flashing her optics at the Autobots as they lifted their guns toward Prowl. “You left me, and you never came back as you said would. So, yes, he is a Decepticon.” She stepped back, walking backwards until her shoulder tires rested against the mech's arms. “He has been my only company this whole time.” She glared at the Autobots. “Will you tear him from me as you tore Megatron from my spark. Then leave him for humans!”
Blue optics widened as systems revved with surprise, but she gave no one a chance to respond to that.
She lifted her arm cannon toward the catatonic boy in the Decepticon's grip. “What did he have to do with it?” Her anger finally burned through their bond, seizing his spark with its ferocity, and through it he felt the pain he’d caused her: the separation, the death, the loneliness, abandonment.
“Don't hurt him, Elita, please.” He couldn’t put it into words, but he owed Sam too much not to convey it to her. He stepped closer, holding his hands up as Elita’s arm cannon charged. Prowl shifted his stance, and he pulled a gun from his thigh. It had been a long time since Optimus had last seen anyone use an actual rifle rather than install their own gun. “Would you rather that I died?”
“What?” She stepped away from him, optics dimming at the audacity of his question.
“I asked him to push the Allspark into my chest,” another step closer, hands still held out placatingly, “but he took the initiative and used it on Megatron. I was not winning, Elita, and I could not let him get the Cube.”
Prowl hissed out of his vents, and his red optics turned to the human. “This thing destroyed Megatron?” His grip on the small, fragile human tightened. “This puny, insignificant speck? I would not even bother to wipe him from my tires, and he destroyed Megatron?”
Prime swept in then, unable to stand seeing Sam struggling to breath any longer. He reached over Elita’s head and dug his fingers into the black arm, twisting viciously to loosen the Con’s grip. Another wrench and Prowl cried out, releasing his hold on the human. Flesh smacked into metal as a large hand caught the human before he hit the ground.
Sam came online with a jolt just as Elita snarled and lunged for the larger mech’s hand. Sam shouted, clambering up the Autobot’s arm and onto his shoulder. Small hands wrapped around the struts and cables of Optimus’ neck. The boy curled against the blue helm, his breathing ragged and pained coughs racking his body.
Elita clawed at Optimus’ chest, until Prime seized her wrists. “Calm down, Elita. You have things to explain yourself. Such as the Decepticon.”
Elita jerked her arms, trying to free her wrists. “Decepticon, Autobot. That means nothing to me.” She glared at him, arms twisted still in her bid for freedom. “He is a mech, and I am a femme, and after too long of being alone with only each other for company it’s only natural that we seek more than just company from each other.”
“Alone?” Ratchet finally spoke up, stepping forward to look the black and white Decepticon over. In return, Prowl turned, clearing a path should he need to fire. “There were still a lot of Decepticons on Cybertron when we left. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker confirmed the same when they left.” He paused and tilted his head as though seeking better reception. “There are still Decepticons on Cybertron. How were you ever alone?”
The red optics darkened, and Prowl frowned a moment. “Do you think my only duty was to guard her from any of your rescue attempts? I was protecting her from the Decepticons as well. Megatron would trust no other.” Prowl took a few steps forward, lifting his rifle. Ironhide stiffened, raising his large arm cannons. Prowl paused, turning toward the big black mech. “Ironhide, I just want him to release Elita. Prime is a part of her, as well.” The rifle lifted, the muzzle aligning with Ratchet's spark chamber. “Ratchet, on the other hand is your fusebox, and he has no link to Elita.” He stared over his shoulder at Ironhide. “Am I correct in assuming that he is linked to one among you?”
Ironhide growled deep in his chest, his cannons thrumming with his frustration, but his arms lowered. “Deceptigrime, what makes you think I can't take you out first.”
“That you lowered your weapons answers your question.”
“Enough! Prowl lower your gun. I told you not to threaten any of Optimus' mechs.”
The Decepticon glanced toward Elita, but did not do as she asked. “Prime is to release you, first.”
Optimus frowned. “Megatron is dead, what are you fighting for now?”
Prowl slid a glare toward Optimus. “Megatron was our leader, not the cause itself. That survives him. You will protect those weaker than yourself, even when logic dictates that they will fall no matter you do. You could fall, and still many of your Autobots would fight for that. You are not the cause, you are merely a figurehead.”
Sunstreaker sneered at the“Figurehead? Sounds like the Cons need a new one, are you gonna take his place?”
Prowl didn't even spare the yellow mech a glance. “My place is at Elita-One's side.”
Sideswipe chortled, engine chuffing in amusement. “How about your mentor? What's his name? Shockwave?”
The patrol car's engine stuttered, and he fired a blast toward the red mech. “Shockwave,” the mech hissed, “did not survive your attack on him.”
Sideswipe smirked, not even flinching when the bolt scorched the ground at his feet. “We did our job well then.”
Prowl launched himself, suddenly, heedless of Elita's cry and the warning shouts. He landed bare feet in front of the red warrior, rifle shoved up under the taller chin. “If it were not for the fact that your action allowed me to steal Elita from her prison, I would dismantle you for that comment.”
Sideswipe only grinned wider, optics flashing defiantly as metal squealed against metal; his chin scraping against the barrel of Prowl's gun. “Don't let it stop you, friend."
Optimus' grip tightened on Elita-One, eliciting a whine from her servomotors.
“Prowl!” Elita snapped at the Decepticon. ::I asked you not to!::
Prowl jerked away from Sideswipe, his optics flickering. “This time, she has saved you.” Prowl pressed forward, reclaiming the step he'd given up. “Next time you will not be so lucky.”
Prowl walked away from Sideswipe without looking back, making the warrior twitch with the need to strike. “Prime, would you please release Elita? Surely you are violating the edicts of your programming.”
“That's a Decepticon?” Sam's soft voice squeaked into Optimus' audio receptor.
Prowl's red optics snapped up to the small figure perched on the Prime's shoulder. “Not all Decepticons are alike, Sam. Neither are all Autobots alike. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker are a prime example of such.” He stopped several yards away from Optimus, waiting expectantly.
“Don't be deceived by his careful words, Sam. I doubt he was wholly truthful if he didn't cause a scene at your school.” Optimus tightened his grip on the small femme, pulling her closer.
“I do not lie, Prime.”
“You attacked Bumblebee,” Sam blurted suddenly. “Holy crap! You piece of shit! You said he was safe!”
“In the proper care of a trained medic, he would be.”
“Sam,” Optimus could not free a hand to soothe the irate human that spat physically impossible curses at the Decepticon, “Ironhide found Bumblebee, he is only a short distance away from medical attention.”
::Let me go, Optimus. You are making him anxious.::
Optimus caressed his fingers over the thin plates of her forearm, but his optics glared at his unwanted brother. ::What does he know of anxiety, Elita? I haven't held you for... far too long to count.::
::I haven't forgiven you.:: The sharp pain of her anger spiked through his systems, and he released her with a gasp. “You left me with him.” She dropped to her two wheels and spun over to the Decepticon. “I don't think I want to be with you, right now.”
“You would stay with a Decepticon?” Optimus never knew he could sound so loathing.
Elita's optics flashed as she whipped to her feet.“He is not a Decepticon,” She placed her hands on his shoulder struts, resting her face against his spark chamber in an intimate manner. “Prowl is my bondmate.” Black arms slid around the pink frame, sheltering it from Optimus' vision. “He has been there when everyone else abandoned me.” Golden optics dimmed as they turned the Autobot leader. ::Even you.::
Prowl pulled her a step away. “Freedom is the right of all sentient beings, is it not? Does her bond to you deny her that right. Will you stop her from following me? Is your programming so degraded?”
“No.” But inside it felt as though his systems would crash, only a few more cycles and this pain he felt would explode into his spark, extinguishing his life. He couldn't stop her. He wouldn't stop her.
He didn't stop her as he watched them transform and make their way back the way they had come.
Ratchet retrieved Sam from Optimus' shoulder, the boy's puzzled questions distant though they sounded only a few yards from his audio receptors. Ironhide left to finish bringing Bumblebee to base, while the Twins made sure the Decepticon was truly gone. Then they, too, returned to base, loitering around front as though awaiting instructions only to go inside unsatisfied. Into the base.
The base that now felt that much farther from home.
-------------------
End Note: Because there simply isn't enough Evil!Prowl in the fandom without turning him into Barricade.
I do, however, feel the need to take a brief hiatus. I'll still be writing, but I'll be trying to focus on some other projects, and catching up on posting the rest of my backlog elsewhere. I am going to try to resist the urge to post any stories I finish until after I come back from hiatus (unless it's Star Crossed, but I doubt I'll finish the next chapter, since I'm working on the finale). I'll be quiet for thereandabouts of a month's time.
Catch y'all on the flip side!
Title
Characters Sam, Prowl, Ironhide, Optimus, Ratchet, Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, Elita-One, leaving pairings for surprise ;P
Continuity Movie-verse
Rating K+
Summary New arrivals aren't all they're cut out to be.
Warnings Human swearing
Author's Notes Trying something out. Of note in this verse, since the Allspark is canonically the only source of life for these Transformers, the femmes serve a different purpose in their place as hubs. Instead of being a method of reproduction they are used as mediators. What makes me twitch about this fic is that I have just set myself up with a personal fanon-verse where Optimus/Megatron is actually possible. *twitch twitch headdesk* owwwwwwwww.
Sam couldn’t help the unease that clenched his gut as he saw the black and white vehicle sitting where Bumblebee usually met him.
It wasn’t Barricade.
He could tell that much, the pattern of the paint didn’t match the Decepticon patrol car. He snuck a glance at the rear, seeing that it didn’t have the mocking motto of 'Punish and Enslave' nor was there a purple insignia neatly stuck within the shield. He paused by the car, eying it uncertainly. He edged a little closer, glancing around the school grounds to see if anyone else was watching him. Seeing no one, he took a deep breath to calm his racing heart.
“Hey,” he muttered out of the side of his mouth. “Please don’t let me look like an idiot, can you talk?”
The vehicle’s engine startled him nearly out of his shoes and he jumped back a few feet.
A flicker caught his eye and he looked up in time to see a man appear behind the wheel; an invitation to step closer.
Sam pressed himself against the neighboring car, still trying for those calming breaths that weren’t really helping.
“Samuel James Witwicky?”
“It’s Sam.” Another not-so-calming breath.
The police car hesitated, if such a thing were plausible. “Sam, then. I am Prowl, recently arrived from Cybertron. I am here to retrieve you.”
“Bumblebee?”
The man in the car turned to look at him, and Sam realized that the chin was… wavering, as though his mouth were moving as he talked. “I am sorry to inform you that your guardian has been incapacitated by a Decepticon. I am here in his stead.”
Goosebumps rippled across his arms, and he shivered in a sudden chill. “How do I know you’re telling the truth? I didn’t know we had any new arrivals.” Introducing the new arrivals to their liason was one of the first thing the Autobots made sure to do now.
“The Code that I follow is ingrained into my very spark. I cannot lie. This is my opportunity to meet you. Will you come inside?” The backdoor popped open, waiting.
Sam hissed between his teeth and only hesitated a second more before he clambered into the back of the patrol car.
“Great, now it looks like I’m going to jail,” Sam groused at no one in particular, ducking his head so he didn’t have to see anyone noticing.
“I apologize.” Suddenly the car shifted, even as Prowl reversed out of the parking space. The passenger seat in the front suddenly folded down and disappeared and Sam’s seat whirred and jolted to the front.
Sam stared about him in surprise at finding himself in the front of the car. “I didn't know you guys could do that,” he murmured once again to no one in particular. “Is 'Bee going to be okay?”
“It is nothing to alter our interior,” Prowl explained, easily weaving his way through afternoon traffic.
Sam waited, but when nothing more was forthcoming, he thought maybe Prowl had missed his (more obvious) question. “Do you know if 'Bee's going to be all right?”
“Bumblebee should be fine in the care of a qualified medic.”
“So Ratchet shouldn't have any problems fixing him up, then?”
“No, he should not.”
“That's good to know.” Sam released a breath he didn't even realize he'd been holding. He sat in a slightly agitated silence, worried over his friend until he finally broke out into another question. “How long have you been here? You seem to know your way around, not that any of you guys have any trouble with directions, but you seem to know what you need to do and everything.”
Prowl swerved gently in his lane in what Sam recognized as an indifferent shrug. “I researched the protocols for meeting with humans extensively on your World Wide Web.”
“At least you didn't look at the dating sites.” Sam buried his face in his hands, cheeks burning with the memory of being hit upon by the twin Lamborghinis. “God, that was embarassing.”
“I am capable of differentiating between normal social behaviors and mating rituals.”
The sound of a motorcycle coming up in the next lane had Sam turning his head, admiring the high purr of the small bike. “I hate to tell you this, Prowl, but a lot of normal social behavior involve mating rituals. At least that's what Ratchet says.”
A small pink bike drew closer, weaving into the emergency lane to move around another car. The rider didn't even flinch as he (what the hell kind of guy rides a rose pink cycle?) squeezed past two cars.
“That is a fact that I will do my best to retain, thank you.”
Sam straightened, mouth hanging open as the rider pulled another daring pass, swinging into the non-existent breakdown lane.
“What in the world?”
A gap appeared in traffic next to Prowl. The bike leapt in-between the cars, swinging right for the seemingly oblivious Prowl.
Sam shrieked, heart in his throat, as the motorcycle headed straight for him, the rider not even glancing toward him. “Holy fucking Christ!””
~*~*~*~
“The boy isn't here, Prime.”
Optimus stood before the monitors set into the control room of their base and vented a sigh. “And what of Bumblebee?”
“The other younglings thought Sam was skipping school. Bumblebee hasn't been here since this morning. School records indicate that he attended every class.” A disgruntled buzz, like the shorting of a circuit, hissed over the channel. “I don't like this, Prime.”
Ironhide didn't have to say that Bumblebee would never leave Sam unmonitored without good cause. Nor that the good cause would likely be for another's malicious intent. He didn't have to express his concern over Sam not waiting for one of them. Ever since the attack while he was with his parents, he realized how necessary his guardians were.
“Circle the area and see if you can locate Bumblebee, Ironhide. Give me regular updates.” Optimus switched channels even as Ironhide transmitted his acknowledgement. “Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, return to base.” Another channel. “Ratchet...”
“Right here.” The medic stepped into the control room, taking a place next to the larger Autobot. “There's a Decepticon coming. And another, but I can't...”
The proximity alarms interrupted Ratchet, alerting the mechs to the presence of two Cybertronians entering the perimeter. A very old security code blipped across the screen, but that particular pattern hadn't been used since shortly after the war had started.
Prime stared at the code, his spark contracting in his chest. Muted ethereal fingers brushed across his being, and he stiffened in disbelief. ‘It can’t be…’ He turned from the monitor, taking long strides for the exterior hatch.
“Prime?”
“Prime, I’ve located Bumblebee. Someone has put him through the compactor. It isn’t pretty.”
Optimus paused, accessing the controls via a remote signal. “Are you going to require assistance bringing him back to base?”
Ironhide harrumphed. “I’ve got that covered. Ratchet’s going to need to be handy though.”
“We also have a Decepticon heading this way.”
“I’ll stash him somewhere safe then, and meet you.”
Ratchet followed Optimus out of the command center. “What about the other one?”
“I'll handle her.”
“Her...?” The large green medic jolted to a halt, glowing blue optics staring at his commander.
Optimus didn't wait for him. His power lines surged with the presence that nearness of the one coming. He couldn't feel anything more than that soft brushing against his spark and it worried him that she blocked herself from him.
The soft spring light warmed his plating as he stepped outside. The soft dirt beneath his feet shifted as he made his way away from the doors. Above the sound of the wind, and the birds, and the chorus of insects that surrounded their base he could hear the thrum of approaching engines.
Ratchet stepped out just as two Lamborghini swung around the hump that was the door in the ground and swirled to their feet, priming their guns.
“What the slag is going on?”
“We picked up a 'con signature heading this way.”
A whispered warning had Optimus turning on his two elite warriors with a cutting gesture. “You are not to fire until I tell you.”
“Sam...” Ratchet murmured, optics lighting with the realization.
Sideswipe swore roundly. “For the love of the Pit! Couldn't you have waited till then to call us back?”
Ratchet's hand shifted, the saw swinging out of his arm. “Then it would have been too late. Ironhide is delayed as is-” Ratchet stopped and frowned down the winding trail that led to their base. “He stopped.”
Optimus shook his head. “The other hasn't.”
The high pitched whine of a small, four cylinder motor reached their audio and a pink bike rounded the corner, rider dissolving into particles of light. Sunstreaker and Sideswipe stiffened, cannons lifted as the bike headed straight for their commander.
A shriek pierced the green surroundings, as the bike launched itself into the air. A whirring of motors and the bike suddenly became a lithe frame, tires spinning on the shoulders. The pink femme tackled Optimus, gun slipping out of her arm and golden optics blazing. Her small form bounced off the semi's and she leapt to her feet.
“Where is he?”
She didn't wait for Prime to speak, but knocked his feet from under him only to thrust her gun toward the twin warriors aiming at her. “What have you done with him?” Another pulsebeat and a shot landed at their feet. “Answer me!”
“Elita, calm down.”
Sideswipe and Sunstreaker jerked at the name, but their weapons lowered and they backed away. She glanced from one to the other, before slapping her barrel down to Optimus' spark chamber.
“Tell me what you did with Megatron.”
“The humans took him-”
“Humans?? You let the humans have him?” Suddenly on her feet, she sneered down at Optimus. “I have been through the Pits and back for you, I suffer for your cause, and this is what you tell me! That you let the humans take him.” The gun hummed to life, and thrust toward him. “Tell me why I shouldn't empty your place in my spark as well?”
“I didn't destroy him, Elita. I couldn't.”
She narrowed her optics, but otherwise remained quiescent.
“There was a human boy...”
The trees rustled and suddenly a Decepticon registered on Optimus' sensors. Optimus lunged upward, throwing Elita to the ground and lifting his own arm gun toward the sound.
“I would not do that, Optimus.” A black and white mech stepped through the trees, red horns glinting in the light. But it was the smaller form in the curl of the strong, sharp fingers that caught Optimus' attention.
“Let him go, Prowl.” Prime moved over Elita, covering her from the Decepticon's line of fire. “He has nothing to do with this.”
“I do not think so, Optimus. Were you not about to say something in regards to this organic creature?” The fingers shifted, squeezing a choked squeak out of the small mouth.
Prowl fell silent, not even sparing any of the other three a glance. He tilted his head as Optimus didn't say anything and again a whisper touched his spark. Elita twisted under Optimus, kicking at him even as she transformed. Metal bent and shredded as her edges swung about and against his plating.
His fingers slid over the sleek frame of the bike as she thrust herself away from him, swinging a wide circle around the Autobots. She tore into dirt as she transformed again, her momentum carrying her the last few steps to the Decepticon in their midst.
Optimus rose to his feet, alarmed at her apparently suicidal actions. “Elita, get away from him. He's a Decepticon.”
Yet Prowl didn't move as she placed herself squarely between the Autobot's guns and the black and white mech, a useless gesture with her height, but it spoke a message so clear that even the twins lowered their weapons.
“You think I don't know that?” Her optics burned in her face, mouth set in a fierce snarl, wheels spinning on her back. “Where the Pits do you think I've been all these millennia? Not with you, Autobots, oh no. You thought me safer with Megatron, you knew that if you took me, he'd do anything to get me back, and the destruction before that would be nothing to what he would cause. The lives risked weren't worth it. Isn't that what you told me, Optimus? 'Talk to him, Elita, show him that he is wrong.' And then you left me.” She stalked towards Optimus, flashing her optics at the Autobots as they lifted their guns toward Prowl. “You left me, and you never came back as you said would. So, yes, he is a Decepticon.” She stepped back, walking backwards until her shoulder tires rested against the mech's arms. “He has been my only company this whole time.” She glared at the Autobots. “Will you tear him from me as you tore Megatron from my spark. Then leave him for humans!”
Blue optics widened as systems revved with surprise, but she gave no one a chance to respond to that.
She lifted her arm cannon toward the catatonic boy in the Decepticon's grip. “What did he have to do with it?” Her anger finally burned through their bond, seizing his spark with its ferocity, and through it he felt the pain he’d caused her: the separation, the death, the loneliness, abandonment.
“Don't hurt him, Elita, please.” He couldn’t put it into words, but he owed Sam too much not to convey it to her. He stepped closer, holding his hands up as Elita’s arm cannon charged. Prowl shifted his stance, and he pulled a gun from his thigh. It had been a long time since Optimus had last seen anyone use an actual rifle rather than install their own gun. “Would you rather that I died?”
“What?” She stepped away from him, optics dimming at the audacity of his question.
“I asked him to push the Allspark into my chest,” another step closer, hands still held out placatingly, “but he took the initiative and used it on Megatron. I was not winning, Elita, and I could not let him get the Cube.”
Prowl hissed out of his vents, and his red optics turned to the human. “This thing destroyed Megatron?” His grip on the small, fragile human tightened. “This puny, insignificant speck? I would not even bother to wipe him from my tires, and he destroyed Megatron?”
Prime swept in then, unable to stand seeing Sam struggling to breath any longer. He reached over Elita’s head and dug his fingers into the black arm, twisting viciously to loosen the Con’s grip. Another wrench and Prowl cried out, releasing his hold on the human. Flesh smacked into metal as a large hand caught the human before he hit the ground.
Sam came online with a jolt just as Elita snarled and lunged for the larger mech’s hand. Sam shouted, clambering up the Autobot’s arm and onto his shoulder. Small hands wrapped around the struts and cables of Optimus’ neck. The boy curled against the blue helm, his breathing ragged and pained coughs racking his body.
Elita clawed at Optimus’ chest, until Prime seized her wrists. “Calm down, Elita. You have things to explain yourself. Such as the Decepticon.”
Elita jerked her arms, trying to free her wrists. “Decepticon, Autobot. That means nothing to me.” She glared at him, arms twisted still in her bid for freedom. “He is a mech, and I am a femme, and after too long of being alone with only each other for company it’s only natural that we seek more than just company from each other.”
“Alone?” Ratchet finally spoke up, stepping forward to look the black and white Decepticon over. In return, Prowl turned, clearing a path should he need to fire. “There were still a lot of Decepticons on Cybertron when we left. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker confirmed the same when they left.” He paused and tilted his head as though seeking better reception. “There are still Decepticons on Cybertron. How were you ever alone?”
The red optics darkened, and Prowl frowned a moment. “Do you think my only duty was to guard her from any of your rescue attempts? I was protecting her from the Decepticons as well. Megatron would trust no other.” Prowl took a few steps forward, lifting his rifle. Ironhide stiffened, raising his large arm cannons. Prowl paused, turning toward the big black mech. “Ironhide, I just want him to release Elita. Prime is a part of her, as well.” The rifle lifted, the muzzle aligning with Ratchet's spark chamber. “Ratchet, on the other hand is your fusebox, and he has no link to Elita.” He stared over his shoulder at Ironhide. “Am I correct in assuming that he is linked to one among you?”
Ironhide growled deep in his chest, his cannons thrumming with his frustration, but his arms lowered. “Deceptigrime, what makes you think I can't take you out first.”
“That you lowered your weapons answers your question.”
“Enough! Prowl lower your gun. I told you not to threaten any of Optimus' mechs.”
The Decepticon glanced toward Elita, but did not do as she asked. “Prime is to release you, first.”
Optimus frowned. “Megatron is dead, what are you fighting for now?”
Prowl slid a glare toward Optimus. “Megatron was our leader, not the cause itself. That survives him. You will protect those weaker than yourself, even when logic dictates that they will fall no matter you do. You could fall, and still many of your Autobots would fight for that. You are not the cause, you are merely a figurehead.”
Sunstreaker sneered at the“Figurehead? Sounds like the Cons need a new one, are you gonna take his place?”
Prowl didn't even spare the yellow mech a glance. “My place is at Elita-One's side.”
Sideswipe chortled, engine chuffing in amusement. “How about your mentor? What's his name? Shockwave?”
The patrol car's engine stuttered, and he fired a blast toward the red mech. “Shockwave,” the mech hissed, “did not survive your attack on him.”
Sideswipe smirked, not even flinching when the bolt scorched the ground at his feet. “We did our job well then.”
Prowl launched himself, suddenly, heedless of Elita's cry and the warning shouts. He landed bare feet in front of the red warrior, rifle shoved up under the taller chin. “If it were not for the fact that your action allowed me to steal Elita from her prison, I would dismantle you for that comment.”
Sideswipe only grinned wider, optics flashing defiantly as metal squealed against metal; his chin scraping against the barrel of Prowl's gun. “Don't let it stop you, friend."
Optimus' grip tightened on Elita-One, eliciting a whine from her servomotors.
“Prowl!” Elita snapped at the Decepticon. ::I asked you not to!::
Prowl jerked away from Sideswipe, his optics flickering. “This time, she has saved you.” Prowl pressed forward, reclaiming the step he'd given up. “Next time you will not be so lucky.”
Prowl walked away from Sideswipe without looking back, making the warrior twitch with the need to strike. “Prime, would you please release Elita? Surely you are violating the edicts of your programming.”
“That's a Decepticon?” Sam's soft voice squeaked into Optimus' audio receptor.
Prowl's red optics snapped up to the small figure perched on the Prime's shoulder. “Not all Decepticons are alike, Sam. Neither are all Autobots alike. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker are a prime example of such.” He stopped several yards away from Optimus, waiting expectantly.
“Don't be deceived by his careful words, Sam. I doubt he was wholly truthful if he didn't cause a scene at your school.” Optimus tightened his grip on the small femme, pulling her closer.
“I do not lie, Prime.”
“You attacked Bumblebee,” Sam blurted suddenly. “Holy crap! You piece of shit! You said he was safe!”
“In the proper care of a trained medic, he would be.”
“Sam,” Optimus could not free a hand to soothe the irate human that spat physically impossible curses at the Decepticon, “Ironhide found Bumblebee, he is only a short distance away from medical attention.”
::Let me go, Optimus. You are making him anxious.::
Optimus caressed his fingers over the thin plates of her forearm, but his optics glared at his unwanted brother. ::What does he know of anxiety, Elita? I haven't held you for... far too long to count.::
::I haven't forgiven you.:: The sharp pain of her anger spiked through his systems, and he released her with a gasp. “You left me with him.” She dropped to her two wheels and spun over to the Decepticon. “I don't think I want to be with you, right now.”
“You would stay with a Decepticon?” Optimus never knew he could sound so loathing.
Elita's optics flashed as she whipped to her feet.“He is not a Decepticon,” She placed her hands on his shoulder struts, resting her face against his spark chamber in an intimate manner. “Prowl is my bondmate.” Black arms slid around the pink frame, sheltering it from Optimus' vision. “He has been there when everyone else abandoned me.” Golden optics dimmed as they turned the Autobot leader. ::Even you.::
Prowl pulled her a step away. “Freedom is the right of all sentient beings, is it not? Does her bond to you deny her that right. Will you stop her from following me? Is your programming so degraded?”
“No.” But inside it felt as though his systems would crash, only a few more cycles and this pain he felt would explode into his spark, extinguishing his life. He couldn't stop her. He wouldn't stop her.
He didn't stop her as he watched them transform and make their way back the way they had come.
Ratchet retrieved Sam from Optimus' shoulder, the boy's puzzled questions distant though they sounded only a few yards from his audio receptors. Ironhide left to finish bringing Bumblebee to base, while the Twins made sure the Decepticon was truly gone. Then they, too, returned to base, loitering around front as though awaiting instructions only to go inside unsatisfied. Into the base.
The base that now felt that much farther from home.
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End Note: Because there simply isn't enough Evil!Prowl in the fandom without turning him into Barricade.