Silence

Silence, Prowl hated it.

He hated the way it hung around like a bad smell, always there at a bad time, almost grinning when it made a group of mechs fidget under its uncomfortable presence.

He hated the way it made him think about all the things he’d rather forget, mechs that had off-lined fighting the never-ending war, disasters he could have prevented, SHOULD have prevented, but worst of all, it made him think about what Sunstreaker and Sideswipe were planning as their next prank.

Leaning back in his chair he laid the finished data pad on the desk and looked around his pristine office, everything was filed in perfect order, on hand should he need it. If he died in battle his replacement would easily pick up where he left off, so unlike Wheeljack’s lab which was constantly in a state of chaos, even Wheeljack struggled to find half the stuff he needed, much to the annoyance of Ratchet.

For a mech that hated silence Prowl had a lot of it, the irony was that the rest of the Arc crew thought he liked to be alone, working with no interruptions or noises, so they left him to it.

Somewhere down the metallic halls the Datsun could hear voices, to quiet to hear what was said or who was speaking, but happy to hear he wasn’t totally alone in the base.

Leaving his office he walked towards the voices, the base was still, apart from the hum of the generator and the creaking of pipes that still hadn’t been fixed after the crash.

Inside the rec room, Ratchet and Prime were sat quietly in a corner playing a game of human chess. A quick scan of the board and Prowl knew Ratchet would win, not that Ratchet knew that yet and even if he did he wouldn’t throw the game.

Jazz laid across the sofa with his head in Sideswipes lap, listening to the radio and reading a data pad. There was no sign of Sunstreaker, although it didn’t unnerve Prowl, without Sideswipe at his side Sunstreaker was mostly harmless.

The silence was slowly becoming unnerving, like the calm before the storm, lulling you in to a false sense of security then unleashing all hell loose. Prowls hell had a name, ‘the Lambo twins’ and sometimes ‘Wheeljack’.

Leaving the rec room quickly he strode down the hall, passing Mirage and Hound as they walked hand-in-hand to Hound’s quarters, giggling like naughty children all the way. Prowl gave them a stern look and Hound snickered, intoxicated on high-grade, “Don’t be that way Bluestreak.”

Mirage elbowed his lover in the side and grinned, “That one’s Prowl.”

Hound frowned and looked Prowl over, “Oh yeah,” he said excitedly, “Sorry Bluestreak.”

Prowl huffed, “I’m not..” He stopped mid sentence as Mirage and Hound turned around and continued walking to Hound’s quarters, “Bluestreak.”

Sighing, he shook his head and kept walking, looking for normality to raise its head.

Normality on the Arc was so underrated, Prowl could swear that it had once existed, then disappeared quickly without a trace, leaving the Autobot warriors in a state of strangeness that never left them.

Sometimes Prowl had to wonder if the Decepticons were saner.

Pressing the keypad on his spark-bonds door he steps inside to see the chaotic workplace, tools strewn over every available work surface, bits of machinery and metal littering the floor and Wheeljack wrapped in a tangle of wires.

Wheeljack looked up at him sheepishly, “Ummmm....Hi?”

Prowl looked him over and smiled, sometimes normality just didn’t matter.

Wheeljack untangled himself and walked over to Prowl, caressing his face softly, “What’s wrong?”

Leaning into the hand Prowl answered quietly, “It’s quiet, I don’t like it.” Reaching down he picked up a stray tool and handed it to the engineer, “Please blow something up”

Wheeljack laughed and turned away, clattering through the mess on the floor to find what he needed.

Prowl sat back and watched, happy in a new chaotic world, where nothing but abnormal was normal.