Warnings: Some violence but nothing too graphic in this chapter.

Notes: Thanks to my tireless beta yankeesailor for taking time out of her busy schedule to beta this monster. Everyone send her some love because without her, this fic would suck. XP

Additional Notes: This was written for the April challenge on prowlxjazz community on LJ

Disclaimer: Not mine, nor am I making any money off of it. The only thing I own are the twisted ideas floating around in my head.

There's no other love like the love for a brother. There's no other love like the love from a brother.

--Astrid Alauda

Jazz was the first one to notice and he'd thought it to be amusing and cute at first. What harm was there in a little crush? Sure, it was his lover who was being hopelessly followed around and made googly-optics at but he didn't mind. Honestly, it wasn't like one hopelessly smitten mech had a chance with Prowl so Jazz just leaned back and tried not to smirk as Bluestreak continued to hang on Prowl's every last word.

If nothing else, it was an amusing diversion.

Unfortunately for Bluestreak, the object of his affection was completely oblivious. When Bluestreak had come to the Autobots, Prowl had taken the gunner under his proverbial wing. The fact that Bluestreak was the sole survivor of the attack on Praxus, his home city, had probably spurred the tactician into action at first. But it was the continually-hopeful young mech's optimism that had forged an unlikely friendship between them.

Sure, Prowl could try and fool his logic processors and say he was merely trying to help Bluestreak overcome his tendency to freeze up in battle, but that didn't change the fact that the tactician was always patient and even understanding with the younger mech.

"-and then they didn't believe me when I told them I knew how to play holo-tag. But I mean, that's where I learned how to shoot in the first place so of course I had to show him and he still didn't believe me, can you believe that?" Bluestreak babbled on as Prowl listened with half an audio. The grey mech didn't seem to mind; he was used to Prowl's often preoccupied airs and so long as the tactician didn't snap at him or tell him to shut up, the young gunner was content to ramble on for breems at a time. "I mean, you remember the holo-tag galleries they had back in Praxus? I mean those were a lot of fun and I ended up spending a lot of my off-hours there until I got so good they actually offered me a spot on a team." Talking about Praxus was still painful for the duo though it was coming easier and easier with each passing day,

Prowl still tensed slightly at the mention of their home city and he raised preoccupied, dark optics to look at Bluestreak for a moment. "I didn't know you were on a holo-tag team." That little bit of acknowledgement was all the gunner needed as encouragement and a wide smile broke out on his faceplates.

"I didn't tell you?" Bluestreak all but gushed. "It was great, probably the best time of my life because it was the first time I was ever really popular and I had lots of friends and… and…" He trailed off when he found himself pinned by a sharp stare from Prowl.

"And?" Prowl drawled.

Flustered now, Bluestreak found himself stumbling over his own words for a moment. "I err… that's it?" Smiling hopefully, the younger mech rubbed the back of his head and shrugged helplessly.

Shaking his head, Prowl just granted Bluestreak a wry look before going back to his reports. The nervous gunner was going to say something else when the internal alarms went off in their heads. Red Alert had signaled an incoming attack that sent the Autobots scrambling to their battle stations.

"Can't the fragging 'cons give it a rest?" Bluestreak groaned as he followed Prowl out the door.

"Apparently not." Prowl murmured. The tactician refrained from pointing out how tired he was of these long, drawn-out defensive battles. With their inferior numbers, these long battles were just devastating for the Autobots. The fact that Megatron showed little regard for the safety of his troops as he threw them heedlessly in wave after wave at the Autobots did not help matters either.

The only thing they had going for them was that Iacon's high, strong walls made it all but impossible for the Decepticon ground troops to get a foothold on the front. Unfortunately, Megatron was fond of his Seekers and his various fliers who continually tried to break through the shielding overhead to rain down death and destruction from the skies.

As Prowl thought, the battle was long and grueling. Every now and then, a Decepticon volley would breech their shields and another part of their beloved city would go up in a ball of flames and the screams of the dying. Prowl tried to not let that get to him but it was hard to ignore the suffering around him. He tried to keep an optic on Bluestreak but it was almost impossible in the confusion of the battle. Thankfully, the young gunner had made an unlikely ally in the Twins. The two melee warriors had taken the gunner under their wing just like Prowl had and made sure Bluestreak made it back from each battle in one piece--for the most part.

The battle continued on through the day and long into the night without any signs of relenting. Two waves of warriors had taken their turns at the front by the time a tired Prowl broke away from his battleplans long enough to take in some energon and find a safe place to sit down for a breem. Prowl noted he wasn't the only mech taking refuge beneath the reinforced cover of the bomb shelter closest to the mobile command center.

"Prowl!" A tired and energon-smeared Bluestreak smiled weakly from his place on the ground. He had his own cube of energon and waved Prowl over to sit down beside him.

"Are you alright?" Understandably concerned by the coolant and energon streaked across the younger mech's armor, Prowl scrutinized the gunner critically for a moment. "Have you been to the medics?"

"Nah, most of it isn't mine." Bluestreak murmured, a haunted gleam in his optics. "The 'cons have got some new kind of cluster bomb that seems to be able to hone in on our heat signatures. They've been picking our snipers off the walls for a while now."

Prowl felt the energon in his lines run cold at mention of the new weaponry. "You need to be careful out there, Bluestreak," he cautioned gently.

The gunner smiled shyly and looked down at the rifle slung across his knees. "I am being careful, Prowl, I promise. They pulled us off the walls for now until Wheeljack and his crew can find some way of jamming the signals from those bombs."

The black and white nodded solemnly. He'd caught bits and pieces of that report over the comm lines and had planned accordingly. He and Bluestreak settled into a tired sort of companionable silence as they both nursed their energon.

Overhead, the distant screams of Seeker engines rent the night air and all the occupants of their shelter looked up at the ceiling overhead. A few astroclicks later, the resounding boom of bombs hitting the shielding cracked through the air. The barrage continued almost unabated for an entire breem as the anti-aircraft guns mounted on Iacon's walls fired repeatedly in hopes of disheartening the Decepticon fliers enough for them to break off the attack.

The various occupants of the shelter were silent and tense as the thunderous roar of the guns echoed in counterpoint to the rumble and tremors of the bombs hitting the shielding overhead. With each tremor, nervous glances shot upwards towards the ceiling as if they expected the shelter to cave in around them. Of course, considering that had happened many times in the past, their fears were not completely unfounded.

Prowl climbed to his feet and nervously paced close to the entrance of the shelter. The conflicting data he was getting over his comlink was not very reassuring. Wheeljack was arguing with Hoist and Grapple over the strength of the shields. The three mechs, usually civil and close friends, were arguing so fiercely that Prowl half expected things to come to blows before too long.

"Enough!" he snapped into the general com-channel. "Stop arguing and get us some straight answers. We need them now, because if those shields are going to buckle then we need to get out troops of the open immediately!" the tactician ordered sharply. He was gratified to hear nothing but silence between the three mechs before each one grudgingly agreed to back over their calculations again. "Prime, I think we should issue the order for everyone to get down to their respective shelters. There's no way we can get the entire army back to the base in time. I'd rather deal with bombed out buildings than lose half our army."

"Very well, start organizing it, Prowl," Optimus ordered solemnly.

"I'm on my way back to the command center now, sir."

"Prowl!" Bluestreak hissed and leapt to his feet. "You shouldn't go out there right now!"

"I have to get back to the command center, Bluestreak," Prowl reminded him with a frown. "Once the evacuation orders are under way I'll come back."

The gunner wore an uncharacteristically mutinous expression. "I'll come with you then."

"Bluestreak..." Prowl had that no-nonsense tone in his voice now.

"It's not like I can do anything hiding in here. At least out there I can do something." Bluestreak tried the logical approach, usually that worked well with Prowl. The black and white mech paused for a moment and Bluestreak knew he was running scenarios through his battle-computer. "I'll just sneak out after you if you try and leave me behind," the gunner finally stated flatly.

Prowl's optics flashed in muted annoyance before he shook his head. "Fine, I don't have time to write you up for insubordination anyway." It was as close to acquiescence as he was going to get and Bluestreak fell into step beside Prowl with a relieved grin.

"Thanks, Prowl."

"…don't mention it." And he meant it. The tactician and gunner started to make their way back up the block towards the command center, which was set-up in what had once been the offices of Iacon's trade commission. The Autobots had been using the building for the past few deca-cycles since one of the Decepticons' attacks had destroyed the old site. Thus far, the 'cons didn't seem to know where the Autobot's new mobile command center was, but Prowl had a feeling they might have finally figured out the location. If this sudden heavy bombing was any indication, Megatron might have figured out where the Autobots were hiding after all.

Over the next three breems, Prowl worked in conjunction with the other Autobot tacticians and command element to evacuate their troops to bomb shelters and reinforced buildings. The heavy artillery was controlled via remote connection and once the Autobots had found sufficient cover, Prowl ordered the 'bots in the command center to find their own squads at their assigned shelters. No more than two officers were assigned per shelter. It was a safety precaution in case the 'cons managed to take out a shelter or two. The Autobots would not be crippled or lose half their command element with one lucky bomb.

It was a good plan, but unfortunately it meant Prowl had to travel twice the distance to meet up with Jazz at their assigned shelter. There was a shelter closer to the Command Center but the tactician preferred to be close to his lover. The two mechs hurried through the debris-strewn streets and winced every time the blast of a bomb hitting the shielding overhead cracked through the air. "It's not going to be long now," Prowl radioed to Bluestreak. Even in the midst of battle, the tactician sounded cool and gathered.

Prowl's unflappable confidence helped boost Bluestreak's failing confidence and the gunner took some measure of comfort in his commander's strength. If Prowl could remain calm in the middle of this inferno, why couldn't he? Bluestreak didn't reply but he did speed up so that his bumper was mere inches from Prowl's. The tactician could have rebuked him for driving so dangerously close but Prowl's sensors detected the unsteady revving of Blue's engine and the ragged way he was drawing air in through his intakes.

He didn't like it when Bluestreak was quiet. When the normally loquacious gunner was quiet, it meant he was deeply troubled about something. Bluestreak being silent was never a good thing.

The gunner was flirting with the razor-edge of falling into a full-out panic attack and Prowl just didn't have the time to deal with his young friend's fears and neurosis at the moment. "Bluestreak?" He worried even more when it took Bluestreak almost two astro-clicks to focus his optics on him.

"Huh?" A puzzled look filled the grey mech's optics.

"Are you okay?"

Another spark-wrenchingly long pause. "I'm fine." The gunner said dully.

Prowl grimaced and shifted his rifle to one arm so he could touch the gunner's shoulder in a gentle grip. "It's going to be alright, Bluestreak. We're almost there." The tactician was not used to offering comfort or encouragement and found himself woefully unsure of what to do in this situation.

Bluestreak managed to dredge up a smile from somewhere and patted Prowl's hand briefly just as the whistle of more bombs falling filled the air. Both mechs tensed when the anti-aircraft guns started firing once more. They managed to hit some of the bombs and the bombers but a lot of those missiles struck home. "They're coming more often," Bluestreak muttered dully. "They're going to break through the shields this time."

Prowl cursed when he caught the glassy look in Bluestreak's optics. "Move it!" he snapped, hoping to shake the gunner out of his trance by pushing him forward. The grey mech stumbled forward on unsteady feet. Without Prowl's constant hand placed firmly between his door-wings, Bluestreak would have stumbled to a stop countless times.

"Just a little bit more, Bluestreak. You can do it, just keep moving." Prowl had taken up the strange part of being the garrulous one. It might have been his imagination, but the tactician thought Bluestreak seemed more alert whenever he kept up a constant stream of dialogue.

They were just clearing the rubble and were about to transform when the Decepticons managed to pierce through the shields. Wheeljack's vicious cursing over the still-open officer's channel was all the warning Prowl had before fire and debris rained down from overhead.

"Bluestreak, move it!" The black and white mech shoved his young friend towards what cover could be found beneath the ruins of another bombed-out building. A jagged shard of shrapnel buried itself into the back of Prowl's knee servo and he cried out as his right leg buckled beneath his weight and momentum. He tried to crawl forward to reach the cover of the building as shrapnel and debris continued to fall down from the ruined shields overhead.

Then, the world exploded in a white hot flash of pain and heat.