Perihelion - Connections - Chapter 2
Title: Perihelion
Chapter: 3/??
Author: Unseen_Daydream
Warnings: Cliffhanger, Plot thickener, Short Chapter is Short
Characters: Prowl, Jazz, Sideswipe, Sunstreaker
Rateing: PG
Summary: To stave off the cold of the war, one must cling tightly to their ideals. But do not cling too closely or you shall find that you are holding onto the sun: so bright and warm and hot that your wings shall melt and your neck will break as you crash into the sea.
Note: This chapter is short, beware!
List of Previous Chapters
As promised, the next cycle finds Prowl in the brig, neutral expression held firmly in place as he dismisses the guard who escorted him in as per protocol. Once the bot leaves, Prowl stands before the energized bars, staring down at the twins who sit casually on the floor, their own neutral faces in place. Without a word, Prowl punches in a code into a hidden key pad on the wall beside the cell, using his body to subtly block the curious optics of a certain pair of twins. Afterwards, he walks through the bars as though they didn’t exist, the energy dispersing and reforming behind him.
Drawing himself up, Prowl states, “You took a datapad from my office last cycle.”
Without either deny or confirming it the two stare at Prowl with an unnerving calculating gleam, as though trying to make a new variable fit in an already complicated equation. In return, Prowl stares back, pride demanding he stand tall and commanding, unyielding in all forms. Asking for the datapad, even ordering its return, would feel like defeat. Slowly and in union the pair stand up. Unconsciously Prowl tenses in return, his sensory panel shifting just a little bit higher and his gaze turning just a little more stern as he stares at the rising pair. Once at attention, Sideswipe looks at Prowl up and down, face carefully blank as Sunstreaker merely stares at him. Prowl is suddenly overcome with feeling as though he is some odd, rare specimen to be studied.
Despite feeling distinctly uncomfortable, Prowl manages not to fidget, though his sudden stillness must have given something way as for a brief moment the two Frontliners share a smirk. Much to Prowl’s surprise thought, not a word is said as, casually, Sideswipes slips a hand into subspace (Prowl make a not to himself to ensure the guards search brigmates more carefully in the future) and pulls out a thick, dull silver datapad, thicker than the standard datapad, a sign of its ancient age, old and worn and chipped in places but obviously well care ford. Sideswipe lightly tosses the old datapad a few times in one hand as though testing the weight of it. Resisting the urge to growl, Prowl holds out a hand stiffly in a wordless command for the datapad. Once more surprising Prowl, Sideswipe gently, almost tenderly, places the datapad into Prowl’s outstretched hand.
Open on the screen is an open picture file. Prowl glances sparingly at it, having memorized the picture long ago and knowing it to be the only one on this particular datapad: old building, old even by cybertonian time, crumbling walls and broken windows, a neighborhood falling apart. A memory from long ago captured in a single frame. Without another thought Prowl closes the screen, setting up new passcodes and security measures worth of the most confidential of information, security measures that only he and Prime would know how to bypass or face corrupting all the data within. He sets the measures up within kilcks before nodding firmly at Sunstreaker and Sideswipe separately. Just as Prowl is turning to leave Sideswipe asks curiously, “You were a Copper Arm, sir?”
And something in Sideswipe’s voice gives Prowl pause: something cautious and expecting to be shot down, even tacking on ‘sir’ in hopes of appeasing him.
“Yes,” Prowl answers, tone neutral, though feeling awkward about having this conversation with Sunstreaker and Sideswipe of all mechs.
The two look taken aback, obviously having not expected an answer, much less a confirmation. Taking bravery from Prowl’s compliance, Sunstreaker asks, “Then why does everybody think you’re some noble?”
Amusement faintly colors his tone as Prowl replies, “I have never claimed nobility nor have I ever desired to do so, however my frame type is most often associated with nobility. I was unaware until recently what most mechs think of my previous caste standing.”
The twins trade an amused glance, a private joke passing between them, before sobering, cautiously inquiring, “That femme in the picture..She alive?”
Sobering himself, Prowl replies, “She is not dead.”
“Why don’tchya’ have her come here? Where she’d be safe? Why not have her registered in the system?” Sideswipes confusion is as evident as his curiosity.
“I do not know where she is,” Prowl replies simply, “I know only that she has not died, I know not her condition or state of mind.”
There is surprise on their faces and the beginnings of something that might be sympathy. A long pause passes between them, each of the mechs present lost in their own thoughts before Prowl speaks up, voice awry, “And I shall not ask how you have access to my Personal Files” The two look startled and then sheepish but neither makes move to offer up an explanation to which Prowl had expected. There is another pause, more drawn out but a little less awkward before Prowl, quietly states, “I ask that neither of you reveal this information to anyone. Should the Decepticons even suspect her existence…” his voice trails off into silence.
Though surprised by the almost vulnerable tone their Second in Command speaks with, neither twin hesitates in nodding firmly, “Of course, sir,” they both say in union.
Business complete, Prowl nods firmly once more in Sunstreaker and Sideswipe’s directions separately, before turning around and walking through the energy bars that dissipated around his form once more before solidifying again; a definite click echoes as the energy bars lock into place.
A thought crosses Sideswipes Processor and, afraid that whatever connection established would dissolve come next cycle, he asks of Prowl, ”What’s her name?”
Once more Prowl pauses and so long a moment passes that Sideswipe is sure that he wouldn’t be answered when, softly, tenderly almost, Prowl answers in a tone neither Sideswipe nor Sunstreaker had ever heard from Prowl before, couldn’t comprehend coming from their drone-like Second in command before now:
“Perihelion.”