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"That can't be all that comfortable."

Prowl turned at the sound of Ratchet's voice. The medic was standing by the doorway, looking with interest at the scene that was unfolded before him. For H was resting his torso on Prowl's in deep recharge after crying for almost an hour, and Prowl had his arms around H's shoulders in order to keep him steady.

"I didn't want to wake him up," the tactician explained. He kept his voice low in order not to disturb the young mech.

Ratchet smiled a bit, an unreadable expression on his face plate. "I see. Still, I can't have him burden you, so you'd better help me pick him up."

Prowl complied, trying not to move his torso too much. It took some careful and patient handling from both awake mechs but, in the end, Ratchet managed to pick up H in his arms and place him gently on the nearby chair. H stirred for a moment, but there was no need for alarm. The young mech just slept on.

"Did you hear the explosions?" Prowl asked Ratchet.

"Unfortunately," Ratchet replied. "I'm afraid this area won't be neutral much longer."

"I'm afraid so too," Prowl said. At the next moment, he looked at the medic curiously. "But that's not why you came here, is it?"

"You got it right," Ratchet said. "Streetwise came back. He found the spare cog."

Prowl couldn't feel more relieved at hearing those news. Even so, he only said in his calm tone: "Good. When can you start working on me?"

"How about..." and with that, Ratchet smiled and showed Prowl the cog, "... now?"

Prowl couldn't help it; he smiled. And yet, as Ratchet did the operation, one thought after another started jumbling in the tactician's processor; thoughts that concerned another mech, as well. He had become so engrossed, in fact, that he was surprised when Ratchet patted him on the shoulder and declared that he finished.

"Mind you, I wouldn't suggest doing cartwheels just yet," Ratchet continued on. "Do some simple motions first to adjust your circuitry to the new part, and then have H support you when you start walking around."

"I will."

"Good." And with that, Ratchet got ready to walk out.

Prowl's voice stopped him midway.

"Ratchet... how many new recruits have we got?"

"About ten," Ratchet answered. "Why?"

Prowl didn't answer at once. He first looked at the direction of the recharging mech.

"Make that eleven."

That made Ratchet regard Prowl hard. "Are you sure about this?"

Prowl nodded.

"And what about his other trauma?"

Prowl's lip components pursed for a moment, clearly in thought. "He will be fine."

"Did he tell you that?"

Prowl stared the medic for many long moments, stunned silence reigning in the room.

"That... was uncalled for," he said in the end, his voice soft.

Ratchet shook his head. "Perhaps... But if it means you'll remember in what condition this one is, it's fine by me." He walked up to Prowl and locked his gaze on the tactician's, his optics narrowed. "Did you even discuss this with him?"

"No, but I mean to--"

But Ratchet was getting more indignant by the minute. "Do you realise he'll be in the very centre of the storm that almost destroyed him once already?"

Prowl's optics widened. "Of course I have," he answered. "But at least within our ranks he'll have a fighting chance to remain alive."

"Are you prepared to tell him of all the dangers that he's going to face while battling Decepticons?"

"Of course!" the tactician insisted, unable to understand why Ratchet did this. Prowl always trained new recruits to the point of excellence, so that lack of confidence was seriously disturbing.

"And are you aware that he has to battle his own demons as well?" Ratchet asked again.

"Yes!"

"And you're still willing to take responsibility for whatever happens to him?!" Though Ratchet's voice had become quite low, Prowl could still hear the criticising tone. "Even if it means cleaning the mess of fluid from the floor after he shoots himself out of his misery?"

It was then that something unprecedented ignited within Prowl's spark: anger. Raw, unbridled anger that surged through every system and relay, making him curse mentally for not being able to sit up and punch Ratchet on the jaw; and finally reached his vocaliser.

"I WON'T LET THAT HAPPEN!"

There was an abrupt motion from the chair nearby, making both Autobots turn. H had come online at the sound of the scream, and he was now looking at both of them incredulously.

"It's fine, H," Prowl said at once, his voice slowly returning back to his usual tone. "We were just talking."

But H wasn't a fool. He still looked at the two Autobots, his body tensing. He clearly intended to separate them the moment they started arguing again.

"H," Ratchet said at that moment. His optics never left Prowl's. "Please, step outside for a while."

The young mech didn't move.

"Don't worry," Ratchet said again in reassurance. "I don't usually lunge at my patients. It means more repairs afterwards."

That finally appeased H. Accepting the medic's humour with grace, he headed for the door. A few seconds later, he was gone.

As soon as the door hissed closed that the most unusual sound filled the air. Ratchet /chuckled/. In fact, his whole demeanour changed dramatically, as though he wasn't fighting with Prowl just minutes ago. All Prowl could do was stare at the medic dumbly, feeling the first signs of an overload on his logic circuits coming up.

"What is... so funny?" he asked slowly, unsure how to approach that matter.

Ratchet smiled broadly. "You screamed. To be more precise, you screamed and wanted nothing more than tear my throat." He paused to give the tactician a smug look. "You actually let emotions overwhelm you."

Prowl gaped at the realisation. He didn't want to believe it, but there was no use denying it. His logic, the one thing he valued the most... failed him.

"I fear so," he whispered, lowering his gaze. "I apologise."

But Ratchet shook his head. "You shouldn't. Now I know that he's going to be in good hands."

The tactician looked back at Ratchet. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that for you to show emotion for H's sake, he has become quite important to you. Important enough not to regard him as another expendable number in our ranks," the medic explained. "That's precisely what H needs, and I wanted to be sure you knew that as well."

Prowl rubbed his forehead. It was a miracle that his processor didn't shut down at Ratchet's logic and yet... the medic's words actually made sense.

"Point taken," he said in the end. "I'll remember. Thank you."

"All part of my job," Ratchet said, still smiling. He turned on his heel and walked at the direction of the door. H, to neither of the Autobots' surprise, was merely a couple of feet away from the door, waiting expectantly to be let in again. The young mech looked at Ratchet curiously.

"You can go back in," Ratchet said. "You two have something to talk about anyway."

H watched the medic leave, a bemused expression on his face-plate; then turned at Prowl's direction.

Prowl smiled inwardly, for he realised what Ratchet wanted the two of them to talk about. He pointed at the chair nearby.

"Sit down. It won't take long."

H complied.

To Be Concluded...