Chapter Two

I’m a good person, I’m a good person, she thought to herself as she slid off their dual recharging bed early the next morning, watching Mirage do some last-minute maintenance on his chronometer. Yes, it had been partly her idea, still, couldn’t it have waited – say, a week? There were a hundred different things she could have been doing this fine morning – like sleep in. Ah, but her bondmate had an early patrol to get to; such was the price one paid for love during a war.

Mirage smiled at her and stood up; he paused on his way out, hand on the panel as if he had a sudden thought. Solarflare quirked her crest curiously, yet he said nothing, only moving towards his drawer and started rummaging around. “I was going to give this to you later,” he said, head still down, “but I figure now is as good a time as any.” He lifted a rectangular box and held it out to her. “Call this a good-luck present for your date today.”

Flare’s sharp avian facial features twisted in good-humored disgust, plucking the box from his black hands. “You’ve been around the twins too long,” she chided him. “You’re getting bad.”

The spy snorted good-naturedly and leaned back on the counter, watching her open her gift. Flare lifted the top and her mouth dropped open: nestled in a bed of silk was a wide jeweled collar with a massive fire opal as the centerpiece. “Mirage – where did you get –” Looking up, she was greeted with an empty room.

“Later,” his cultured voice whispered from the air. The collar lifted up from the box as if by ghostly means and Solarflare felt herself being turned around. Her invisible mate settled the collar around her next and fastened the clasps. “Later.” Phantom lips brushed the top of her helm and he was gone, the door sliding open and shut.

He was good, so very good. She stood up and admired herself in the mirror, purring in amusement as the jewels glittered and gleamed. He had good taste, that spy of hers; as to where he got the money and the means to procure it … well, he’d tell her later. Mirage had been on Cybertron long enough, and he did have some things stashed away after the Towers fell … Smiling at her reflection, Solarflare palmed the door open and jogged down the hall, crest bouncing in time with her movements.

“Grapple, Hoist,” she called out genially as she went by the two best friends; waved to Smokescreen and Inferno; threw a wink in Grimlock’s direction as the massive, bulky Dinobot clunked his way through the hallway. “Birdgirl way too happy,” Grimlock muttered to himself as he watched her go. “Wonder what torqued her circuits.” Hey, she might as well go through today with a smile and enjoy herself!

“Hey, Flare!” Wheeljack called out to her, poking his masked face around the corner of his lab. “Got a minute?”

This time, Solarflare did not feel one ounce of guilt as she replied truthfully, “Sorry, Jack, I’m going out with Prowl. Maybe another time?”

The inventor’s brow plate rose several inches, but he nodded all the same; Wheeljack was used to being blown off. He waved. “Another time, then,” he called after her cheerfully.

A very agitated Prowl was waiting for her when she arrived at the bay doors. The analyst’s head turned and he pushed himself away from the wall he was leaning against. “You’re late.”

Patience, serenity, Flare thought, managing to keep the smile from slipping off her face plate. “A lady needs time to make sure she looks her best,” she told him sweetly, clasping her hands behind her back – or as far as they were able to go. Once this war was over, she had plans with Mirage to contract someone on Cybertron in order to streamline her robotic form.

Prowl lifted a sardonic eye ridge. Solarflare sighed and dropped all pretenses. “Listen, Prowl, I’m trying, okay? And might I remind you, this was your idea.”

“You are correct,” he admitted slowly. “And … I apologize. It has been a long time since I performed any … niceties.”

Flare huffed. Bah, she couldn’t stay angry at him for long; he was like the twins, insufferable, but you got over it. “I don’t suppose the object of this ‘mission’ includes teaching you how to please a lady?”

Prowl slowly unfolded his arms. Was it the early morning light, or did the tactician blush, the glow about his blue optics turning slightly purple? Solarflare coughed, embarrassed by her own forwardness. “Sorry,” she hastily said, turning to face the rising sun. Stupid Flare. No matter the situation, he is a superior officer.

Prowl merely shrugged. “Consider our time together one of equals,” he told her. Flare’s head whipped around, stunned. And people thought she was the telepathic one.

“Sure, sure,” she replied, unable to think of anything more to say on the subject. “Well, shall we go?”

With a curt nod, the analyst transformed; Prowl wasted no time – he was rolling down the rocky path that led into Portland before Flare could even process that he’d moved. Thrown for a complete loop, the avian femme got her own parts into order, her rockets burning red-orange-yellow as she took off from a standstill, sharp optics having no trouble following the Datsun police cruiser.

Prowl crossed through Portland and headed for the open road. Sunset Highway was not that crowded; still, Prowl was determined to keep a low profile, so he wove carefully between the cars, always cautious in case Decepticons were watching. Flare, meanwhile, kept to the clouds; she flew low enough so that she would present no hindrance to passing aircraft and high enough to stay far from human sight. The avian femme occupied her flight time with thoughts of where Prowl might be taking her; sure, Mirage had suggested the beach, but she wouldn’t stake any bets on it. For all she knew, they could be headed towards a museum or a zoo – neither of which she was adverse to. Though, she dearly hoped for the beach.

Her off-duty jaunts with Mirage had made her familiar with this area. Sunset Highway branched towards the coast and led into Seaside on the right and Cannon Beach on the left. As far from the beach as they were, Solarflare’s complex cortex was already recalling the sights and smells. A few years back, a small group of Autobots consisting of Beachcomber, Windcharger, Cosmos, Silverbolt, Smokescreen, Trailbreaker, Hound and herself had come to Cannon Beach in order to laze the day away, lounging and joking in the great shadow of Haystack Rock, a towering monolith, even by Transformer standards. The rock itself was rounded like an old arrow tip and sat on the edge of the brown-white sands, the ocean lapping at it gently. She had perched on the peak with Beachcomber, quietly listening to the geologist explain how the sea had formed the rock and how it was slowly reclaiming Haystack.

Humans had flocked to them, of course. Still wary, even after all this time, all it took were a few toddlers asking Hound and Trailbreaker to play in the sand for the adults to lose most of their apprehension. Solarflare didn’t blame them. They were Transformers, sentient robots and war machines at the same time. No matter what they turned into, the base form always carried destructive weapons.

“Solarflare.”

“Yes?”

“Right – or left?”

Cycling her optics to high definition, Solarflare peered through the wispy, cotton candy clouds. Ahead, she could see the ocean and the hotels of Seaside and Cannon Beach rising like coral along the beach. So, he was giving her a choice! “Left. Towards Haystack Rock.”

Prowl was quiet a moment, the stillness over the comm possibly due to the analyst scrolling through his databanks. “Quite the natural wonder,” he commented finally. “I take it you’ve been there before?”

Curiosity. Solarflare banked, spilling air from her metallic wings, cutting the power running to her boosters by half, then half again, coasting the final couple miles. “Yes, with a few of the guys. Back a couple years ago. We had fun.” Out of the corner of one optic, she saw Prowl put on his turn signal and head off the highway, edging towards the bumpers of a few cars that were going over the speed limit. Solarflare’s beak curled up slightly at the edges. Prowl would have made a fine cop, she mused, flipping over in a barrel roll to work out the kinks in her servos from staying in glide-mode too long.

She followed Prowl as he turned onto the main road in Cannon Beach, hovering briefly as he pulled to the side of the pavement. Without asking permission to transform, she did so in mid-air, her metallic wings flaring out on either side of her grey body. A collective gasp that was the theme song of all Autobots flowed into her aural tracts, a gasp that quickly turned into a sigh of relief as the humans took in her bright red faction symbols: the one in the center of her chestplate and the two on the back of her wings. She landed with both feet planted firmly in the soft sand of Cannon Beach and turned to face the Datsun police car.

“So much for propriety,” she heard Prowl mutter. In a flurry of mechanics, the analyst stood up, walking around the fence that separated the parking lot from the beach proper. “So, what now?”

Flare shaded her optics and peered down the sandy tract. In the distance, about a mile or so, she could see the tents of the carnival; to the right were the more populous areas. The carnival drew her as it had when she was human, but she knew that the whole point of this charade was to get noticed. “Down there,” she said, pointing.

Prowl followed her black finger and nodded. “Let’s go.” He started off with sure strides, leaving Flare behind, shaking her head. Primus help her – please tell her that he wasn’t that rusty! With a low cough, she caught his attention. Prowl froze midstride and seemed to be reminding himself of the mission at hand. He doubled back and presented himself before the grey avian femme, arm cocked and held out for her. Flare smiled in her cortex, taking the proffered arm and sliding close to his tall frame, as much as their respective wings would allow.

“I suppose I have a lot to relearn,” he mused aloud, staring straight ahead, grey face impassive as always.

Flare tightened her grip around Prowl’s arm as a gaggle of teenage beauty queens flowed up to them, covering their mouths and giggling with each other. “Humans have a saying,” she began. “That it’s like riding a bicycle – you never forget.”

“Automatic actions,” Prowl mulled over, rubbing his chin with his free hand. “An apt metaphor.”

“Mister Autobot,” the girls at their feet cooed, blocking their path. “Mister Autobot!”

Prowl turned his head to look at Solarflare. “Allow me,” she sent and turned a very frosty glare onto the girls. “Beat it, honey, he’s with me.” And tugged Prowl along, not even watching to see if the girls moved out of her way.

Prowl turned his head slightly, looking back at the astounded faces of the human females. The gaze he favored Solarflare was a mixture of awe and respect. “Where did that come from?”

The grey femme shrugged. “Nowhere in particular. I suppose it’s something all females have. We have to protect what’s ours, after all.”

“I thought it was the other way around.”

Flare fairly dimpled, if the malleable metal that made up her faceplate allowed such emotions. “We only let you believe it’s that way.” She glanced back, crest low. “I didn’t step on anyone, did I?”

A low chuckle escaped the analyst’s lip components, the first that Solarflare had heard in a long time. “No.”

Her compressor puffed air through her ventilators and out of her mouth in a sigh of relief. “Good.”

They walked on in silence, Prowl staring straight ahead, Flare turning her own head from side to side, trying to enjoy the trip and keep her cortex from fervently wishing it was Mirage’s arm she was hanging on to. For the most part, she kept her attention on the children splashing in the waves or building sandcastles within easy line of sight of their parents. Vague, wispy memories of her former childhood self came back as she watched and her lip components turned upwards in a sad, soft smile of remembrance. She didn’t miss being a creature of flesh, not these days; but now and again, in the dark of recharging, she dreamed of what she had been, before Ravage had taken her life away.

“Watch out!”

Before Solarflare could react, a football impacted itself dead center, lodging itself under her crested helm, held fast between the curves of her helmet. Flare stumbled backwards, blinded; she dropped her hold on Prowl’s arm and scrabbled at the offending object. Talons flicked out of their own instinctual accord and punctured the pigskin. “Oh, damn.” Holding the deflated football between her thumb and forefinger, Solarflare held it down and out to the three young men who had jogged up to claim it. “Sorry.”

The tallest – and most dense, it seemed – looked at the dead ball with disgust. “You’re going to pay for that,” he demanded, completely blind as to whom he was speaking to.

“Hey, man,” one of his friends whispered harshly, tugging on his sleeve, casting fervent glances at both Flare and Prowl, “those are Autobots, don’t be stupid!”

The leader shrugged his pal off. “I don’t care, Mike. The broad busted our ball!” And the next moment he was being lifted into the air by a very stone-faced Prowl. The football floated to the sand where it lay forgotten.

“Apologize to my lady, now, degenerate,” the second-in-command ordered in a voice he normally reserved for Sunstreaker and Sideswipe.

Flare stood back, amused. Mirage would have simply given the boy his most offended noblemech look – with one brow ridge raised and sighting down his nose. It also didn’t hurt to have a rocket bolted to your shoulder, either.

The boy’s mouth hung open as he swung from Prowl’s fingertips, over fifteen feet off the ground. “S-s-sorry!” he stammered, tears welling in his eyes. Prowl gave him a long, measured look, gauging the sincerity of the apology. Apparently satisfied, he set the young man down and watched as he and his two friends made a beeline for the cars parked high on the hill.

Prowl straightened, brushing sand from his hands. “Well?”

Flare cocked her head to the side. “Well what?”

“Was that satisfactory ‘boyfriend’ behavior?”

Flare’s lips twitched and she schooled her face back into innocence. “For some, yes.”

He folded his arms and looked at her. “What do you mean?”

Solarflare raised her eyes to Primus. “I’m just saying that some guys handle situations differently. And that’s okay.” She paused and looked at the police car. “You know, Prowl, I’m not going to explain every nuance of relationships with you. You did say,” she added, glancing at him out of the corner of one golden optic, “this isn’t an educational jaunt.”

“Point taken,” he replied, gazing across the expanse of Pacific Ocean. “Though, there are so many interesting things to learn about.”

Flare laid a slim, black hand on his arm. “Don’t analyze, Prowl, just accept things for what they are.”

He looked down at her, grey face impassive. “That’s asking me to go against everything that I am, Solarflare, against my deepest programming.”

She gave him a small smile. “I’m sure if we rooted around in there long enough, we could fix the problem.”

“Maybe I don’t want to be ‘fixed’,” he told her icily, dropping her hand from his arm and facing the ocean.

Wings low, crest against her helm, Solarflare stood there, hands hanging down by her sides, at a loss for words. Once again, she damned her free mouth and the trouble it caused. She could spout intelligent conversations one moment and get herself into deep shit the next. The avian side of her cortex did that to her, gave her a boldness and a tongue to match. It was a constant battle to keep the two sides level. Peering about, she decided that she’d said enough for the time being and sat in the sand, not caring that she’d have to scrape it out with a fine brush later. Wrapping her arms around her knee spikes, she lay her head on her forearms, flicking her wings to the center of her back – and found herself wishing Mirage was here, again. They would talk about the children, the waves, the flow of life, anything and everything. They would have laughed about the boy and his football or devised a way to get him back.

At least she had something to look forward to when they got back to the Ark.

Or not. She forgot he would be on patrol all day.

“Prowl! Flare!” a familiar voice bubbled. Solarflare looked up to see Seaspray’s blue and yellow hovercraft form spin into view and transform. “What brings you here?” He glanced at the femme. “No Mirage?”

She lifted her head and gave Seaspray a wan smile. “No, not today. He’s out on patrol.”

The minibot looked to Prowl, but the analyst’s back remained to him. “What’s eating him?” he burbled, jerking a thumb in Prowl’s direction.

“Life,” she replied, getting up and dusting the sand from her joints. “What brings you here?” she asked, turning the question back on the hovercraft.

“Patrol. Thought something might be up; Decepticons, you know. Don’t usually see Prowl out this far.” He leaned close, smelling strongly, but not offensively, of salt water and brine. A lock of seaweed clung to his left shoulder, unnoticed. “Then again, don’t normally see you in his company, either.”

Flare stared at Prowl’s back a moment, watching his door wings raise and fall in time with his ventilator. As succinctly as she could, making sure not to demean Prowl in any way, she explained to the hovercraft what was going on. To her surprise, he laughed. “Maybe you should start renting yourself out to the others. Hang out with Powerglide a time or two, to keep Astoria off his vapor trail.”

Setting her hands on her hips, she shook her head at the minibot. “Seaspray …”

Built without a mouth, the minibot could only wink a smart blue optic that doubled as a quirking grin. “Well, if there’s no Decepticons about, I think I’ll be heading back to sea. Later, Flare.” He waved and jogged straight into the ocean, diving in and resurfacing in hovercraft-mode, shooting up a fine spray as his propellers churned. Then he was off, a yellow-blue speck in the distance – and then nothing more.

Left at a loss for what to do, Flare cast her optics about. Prowl still stood with his back to her, looking out to the Pacific. Well, this day was certainly a bust, she thought ruefully. Then again, what did you expect? It’s Prowl, for Primus’ sake. Duty and loyalty, logic and analysis. That’s who he is. To his very core, like he said. Flare rubbed the back of her helm and sighed. Stupid to agree to this. Should’ve let him drown in his fanmail.

“This way, Solarflare.”

Taken by surprise, Flare jumped, wings and crest flying upwards at the sound of Prowl’s voice. “Excuse me?”

“The day isn’t over yet. And I did promise to win you something, didn’t I?”

Mouth component hanging open, Flare stared at the analyst, completely thrown for a loop. “Eh?” was all she could push past her vocalizer. It was the most absurd, out-of-character thing she’d ever heard him say, right up there with the twins and him becoming pals. “Say again?”

Prowl jerked his head to the side, towards the opposite end of the beach. “This way, soldier.”

Solarflare stared at the little ceramic unicorn, her optics zooming across every minute detail. “What on Cybertron is that?” Powerglide demanded, slamming down a tankard of oil, droplets flying over the rim and landing on the stained table.

“Unicorn,” she murmured, tapping her talons on her helm, her plate of ion sticks and mug of Energon left untouched.

If the jet had a mouth, he would have gawked; rather, his faceplate dropped a few inches. “You’ve got to be kidding, Flare. That’s all that Prowl could’ve won you?” He laid his hands on the table and leaned forward. “Let me tell you, sweetheart, stick with ol’ Powerglide if you want something cool.”

Flare raised herself up on one elbow. “Oh, he won some ‘cool’ things, Glide. Gave them all to the kids.” She turned her head, finally realizing that she hadn’t touched any of her food. She plucked an ion stick and chewed it thoughtfully before adding, “I don’t know if he was acting or not; I didn’t ask.”

Powerglide regarded her for a moment before sitting back down. “If you don’t mind me asking, Flare, why’d you agree to this insane job?”

I keep asking that myself, she thought. “I don’t know. Maybe because I feel sorry for the vice commander.”

“So you’re going out of your way to help him? Come on, Solarflare.”

“Look,” she replied tiredly, gesturing with a stick to add emphasis to her point, “he asked me, I agreed. Enough said.”

“Hey, hey.” Powerglide held up his hands, backing down. “Fine, I get you. Don’t go all primitive on me, okay?”

“Won’t.” And she popped the stick into her mouth. Not yet, anyway. Lifting her mug, she drained the spark-lifting fluid and wiped her mouth with the back of her slim black hand. A quick check of her chronometer told her that it was getting near the time for the patrols to return. Sliding her chair backwards, she stood up, smoothing her crest with effort and flicking her split white tailfeathers into place. Powerglide watched as she exited and slowly shook his head; why couldn’t she be like Moonracer? Practical and open. No, Solarflare was an enigma, torn between three worlds – human, avian and Autobot – and never one to be placed into any category. Looking down, the jet snagged the forgotten bowl of ion sticks, thinking of better times and places.

Solarflare emerged from the bowels of the Ark and set about immediately climbing the deep brown face of Mt. St. Hillary. Hooking her talons into well-worn niches in the rocks, she ascended, moving with practiced ease over the tops of the great orange boosters that protruded into the air. Red Alert’s exterior cameras whined in unison, focusing on her instantly. Not in the mood, Solarflare completely ignored them and the protestations of the security director, who gabbled nonsense from the small speaker set in the central monitor. Throwing a pyramidal black leg over the edge, then the other, she stood up high, shading her optics against the setting sun. Stretching out from the horizon, the colors cast out by Sol turned her white paneling interesting shades of pink.

The avian femme crossed the booster’s wide barrel and settled down at the mouth, letting her legs dangle over the rim. Her wings flared up and over her shoulders, only to fold back along her spine. Hooking her wrists over each other, Solarflare relaxed, waiting.

Like every other day, they came. First in were the twins, Sideswipe and Sunstreaker, pushing their engines to the limit, racing each other in a new bout of Who’s The Fastest. They darted into the hold, pausing long enough to honk loudly and shout new lewd phrases they’d obviously picked up from Howard Stern. Solarflare waved, turning her attention back to the horizon. Next came Skyfire, followed closely by three Aerialbots. Always cordial, Skyfire dipped his right wing in greeting, before diving headfirst into the open mouth of the volcano. Fireflight, Silverbolt and Air Raid took a similar route, but only Silverbolt, the Aerialbot leader, dipped his wings in accord. Flare had long ago taken to shrugging off the affront, acknowledging the fact that more than one Aerialbot viewed her as a rival in the skies – and Fireflight believed her to be a kiss-up who liked to pretend to be a great royal hawk and perch on Skyfire’s arm for fun.

Then Huffer, Brawn, Trailbreaker, Smokescreen and Bumblebee appeared. All honked and called out as she gaily waved back. Finally, long after darkness had tucked the Ark in for the night, came Hound and Mirage. This was the moment she’d been waiting for; kicking with her pyramidal black feet, she hopped down from the boosters. Strong, slim black hands caught her, spun her around and planted her delicately on the hard-packed ground.

“How was it?” Mirage asked without preamble, looping his arm around her waist.

Solarflare’s face lost its elated smile and she dropped her head an inch before facing her bondmate. “Truthfully? I don’t think I should have done it.”

The spy frowned, gently leading her into the main hanger bay. “That bad.”

Solarflare gestured helplessly in the air. “It’s not that, Raj. I know the basic purpose is to stem the flow of mail, but I just don’t think it’s the best possibly solution. That, and I don’t know how I’m supposed to do it.” She paused, causing both of them to stop in the middle of the bay. Mirage let her go and stood facing her, arms crossed, listening. “Prowl’s a celebrity. You just can’t … stop that. We met a couple of girls on the beach; I did my best to act like the possessive mate, but I highly doubt they’re going to go home and forget about him.”

“You think this will increase his mail flow.”

Her crest lifted minimally. “Yes. Into hate mail.”

“Deadlocked, then.”

She nodded and rubbed the back of her helm. “Apparently.” She sighed. “I don’t want to give up on this though. He needs help and dammit, he asked me.” Atop her head, her tri-fold crest flicked back and forth, belaying her conflicting emotions.

Mirage inclined his head. “Understandable. I know you’ll figure something out, Flare. You’re good at that.” He reached out and squeezed her shoulder. “Don’t forget, I’m here if you need me.”

Fresh resolve flooded her then, her golden optics lighting up. Mirage smiled and tweaked her chin. “Prowl just best remember that you’re mine.”

Leaning into his side, she all but purred. “I don’t think anyone can forget that.” Looping her hand around his, Solarflare and Mirage shut the Ark bay doors and ascended into the heart of the land-locked space cruiser to give their reports.