Title: Fulcrum
Warnings: character death, non-descriptive torture

Characters: Prowl, Jazz, Elita-One, Thundercracker, Vortex, Skywarp, Optimus Prime

A/N: Written because Silberstreif wanted to see Prowl's side of His Most Loyal Servant. This part of the story was actually written up immediately after writing His Most Loyal Servant. It then sat on my LJ (the-lost-robot) in two parts for a year, one chapter with most of the story in it and the other an outtakes chapter. This version published here combines them both, thus making it complete.

Fulcrum

"Optimus is leaving," Jazz announced.

His voice is smooth, inflectionless. He could have been commenting on anything, the specific shade of colour of the Ark, the number of times Wheeljack's experiments had gone off in his face. It could have meant nothing. But Prowl knew Jazz, knew that when he spoke to Prowl, he could be saying five hundred different things at the same time. Every word that he spoke was carefully calculated to keep Prowl guessing. Jazz might play open and friendly with the other Bots but he always raised a wall of inscrutability between them.

It is his job after all.

He might be Prowl's subordinate but he's also head of Special Operations. His job tasked him with protecting the Autobots from the threats they couldn't see before the things even had a chance to become dangerous. And sitting innocuously within the Autobots midst, Prowl is the biggest danger to them all. He is their fulcrum and whilst he is the Autobot's greatest strength, he is simultaneously its greatest weakness.

Take him out and everything crumbles away.

It wouldn't happen immediately though. Not like it would have in the beginning of the war, when the Autobots were disorganised, untrained civilians, lacking the battle-armour and mods necessary for warfare. Their lives had been entrusted in Prowl's servos and despite all the odds his battle computer had calculated, he had managed to keep them all alive. They were hardened warriors now, equal to any Decepticon but still hopelessly outnumbered and outmanoeuvred. It was only through subterfuge and superior tactics -his superior tactics- that they had managed to hold on for so long.

He is a glaring weakness, created unintentionally due to the way the Autobots evolved but there nonetheless. The Autobots cannot afford to lose him and so he is firmly under Jazz's watch and protection. The silver saboteur knows his mind better than he knows himself, can see the way his processors will turn often well before he came to a decision. If Prowl ever changed his mind, ever thought so much about leaving the Autobot side, there would be an energon blade in his spark before his circuits could even finish processing the thought.

Jazz perched himself at the edge of Prowl's desk. This is not a social call; it never is when it came to Prowl. The tactician knew that Optimus is leaving; there was not an Autobot alive that doesn't know. But when Jazz said it, it meant something else. Something for Prowl to puzzle away over the coming long vorns.

"I'm leaving too," Jazz said and this is information that isn't new to Prowl either.

But- leaving? Jazz never said that to him. He would say he would be away on a mission whenever he left the base. Away but not gone because there would always be someone watching Prowl, invisible shadows that Prowl could never see but always monitoring him and reporting back to Jazz. It never made a difference where Jazz was physically; he would keep an optic on him regardless.

I'm leaving. Jazz is looking at him neutrally, no clues ever showed on his faceplates. Jazz is leaving him alone, no silent watchers to monitor his moves, stop him from making plans that might not necessarily have the Autobots best interest in mind. Because as loyal Prowl is to the cause, he's always been one step apart from the rest, watching both the Autobots and Decepticons with larger plans at spark. He was made to protect the Cybertronian race as a whole and the war has divided him on his duty.

"I see," Prowl says and he understands now. Jazz is making sure that he knows that finally there is no one in his way. He is free to do what he wills with the Autobots because Optimus will be too far away and Jazz has not seen fit to inform the Prime of this silent danger.

Jazz tilts his head at Prowl, considering the stoic bot in front of him until he is sure that Prowl has got his unspoken message. He chooses his next words carefully. "I imagine that when we return the war will be over, Prowl." With some other mech, he might have been joking.

He never jokes with Prowl.

There is no change in Prowl's demeanour but something hardens within the mech. Prowl is looking at him carefully now but Jazz doesn't give him anything more than that. Before this orn, Jazz would have never mentioned anything like this to the tactician. But right now, their ranks are ambiguous, Prowl is second to the entire army but Jazz is Prime's personal second. Who is more senior is debatable but since Prime is departing is soon, it should have never become an issue.

Except it is now.

If Prowl wants to, he can takes this as an order. The chaos Prowl could potentially bring down on Autobots is devastating and Jazz has let him of his leash. And at the end it, if he wants, he could lay the blame at Jazz's pedes and walk away with a clear conscience.

Or he can construe this as yet another meaningless comment that Jazz has made and allow the mech to pretend he has not foreseen this. There is no need for the saboteur to try to take responsibility for something that Prowl has always been heading for. He'll make his own choices, no thank you but it was nice of you to offer. No one can stop this.

"Jazz," he said and the glyph that he used makes his decision clear. He uses the variant that denotes the mech as the third in command of the Autobot army. "Good luck."

The silver saboteur rises, unperturbed by Prowl's choice. He simply nods and leaves. There is no need to wish Prowl luck.

The tactician won't need it.

X

Prowl is tired.

He is tired of this war. Tired of fighting, tired of killing. He is tired of sending mechs off to their deaths and planning attacks that will kill even more of the enemy forces. He is tired of the Autobots and the Decepticons and their blind fanatic beliefs that are driving this war onwards and onwards.

He is tired of death. He is tired of his species trying to push itself to extinction.

It is stupid. It is futile. It is maddening that he seems to be the only one who can see this.

This must stop.

Either the Autobots or the Decepticons must surrender to the other but he knows neither will ever consider it. Therefore one must conquer the other to make the war end. He has all the plans that can end it but he doesn't have the resources to pull it off. Or rather, he doesn't have the right army.

He has the Autobots, for all the good it does him. They do not have sufficient numbers to overcome the Decepticons. The Autobots are zealous in their belief that they are on the side of good and will not surrender unless they are dead. If he stayed where he is, they will slowly succumb to Decepticon attack no matter what he does, both sides losing mechs until the Autobots ranks are depleted completely.

This is unacceptable. Optimus has safeguarded them to him and Prowl is never one to fail. And without the Allspark on Cybertron, their race cannot afford to lose what little population it has remaining. Autobot, Decepticon, it did not matter, they are all Cybertronian.

The war must end, for all of them, for good.

In the end, there was no choice.

This has always been inevitable.

Jazz has tried to delay it for as long as he could but even he has given up in the face of the inescapable.

Prowl is tired and he can no longer afford to waste energy caring about who will get hurt if they get in his way.

X

He is in the Decepticon main base in Koan and no one has shot him yet. This was not surprising. The mechs he'd walked past before someone had noticed him looked defeated. They look as tired as he feels. They look like they had seen the future and it is bleak and empty of Cybertronian kind.

It is hard to keep the cause going when those who would espouse it are no longer there. Prowl cannot recall why the Decepticons were fighting, energon shortages? A cruel and uncaring Senate? The Allspark? Whatever it was, it did not matter anymore.

Megatron is gone.

Optimus is gone.

The Allspark is gone.

Cybertron's future is gone.

Prowl is not.

His decision to defect is met with derision and earns him a place in Vortex's torture chambers. This is not the first time he's visited them but it's the first time he's put himself there somewhat voluntarily.

The Decepticon is not all that interested in what intel Prowl might be carrying and more focused on systematically disassembling Prowl while he's still alive. Prowl endures just as he has endured everything the war has thrown at him. Vortex asks for information on occasion but Prowl only has one answer for him.

"I am defecting," he says calmly. Seriously.

Coldly.

He doesn't give in because it's not in his nature. Only Prowl decides who he will submit to and it will never be to Vortex. He is defecting but that doesn't mean that he is giving them free access to his processors. Besides, the Decepticons only respect strength and to give in to Vortex's ministrations is to display weakness.

"I am defecting."

"Why?" Thundercracker asks one orn. It is the first time Thundercracker has come down to see him. The Seeker holds command of the Decepticon forces but only by the virtue of being Starscream's second. Shockwave is officially in charge of the army but he has always been removed and isolated from the rest of it, and the Cons have never liked him. Using one's subordinates in terrifying experiments tends to have that effect.

Prowl stirs and peers at Thundercracker through one broken optic. "So that the war can end. Because the Autobots are never going to win. Because I am tired of this war. Take your pick."

"You've never struck me as the kind to betray the Autobots."

"I no longer care who wins the war," Prowl replies. "That does not matter to me. Just as long as it ends and there are Cybertronians left around after it."

And it was strange, but he thought, perhaps, that Thundercracker understood what he was getting at, what the Autobots had failed to grasp. That the Decepticons in this room could all understand in some abstract way what was driving him. There's listlessness to their actions, a lack of direction in their attacks on Autobots. Like they don't know what's the point in fighting anymore, they can't see a future beyond the next battle.

The Seeker stares at him. There is tiredness in the Decepticon's frame, the same exhaustion that has plagued Prowl for vorns. "I have seen no signs of co-operation since you came here," Thundercracker replied with a tone of defeat. He is reluctant to give Vortex permission to continue his ministrations but they have yielded nothing from Prowl.

The tactician's optics switched off. "You are torturing me for what I would freely give if asked."

The Decepticons pause at this. "You really expect us to believe that?" Vortex sneers. "That you would just give out real information on the Autobots on your own free will?"

"I expect you believe nothing," Prowl replies calmly. "But you never asked."

"I have done nothing but ask you questions!" Vortex snarled in frustaration.

Skywarp gave an impressed whistle as he pokes a finger through a hole in Prowl's helm. "Holy slag, he must really not like your methods if he's willing to endure all that just to make a point."

Vortex glares down at his captive before giving a rough bark of laughter. "You are mad," Vortex says with awed wonder. "Oh, you will be fun."

Thundercracker levelled a considering gaze at Prowl. "We'll need proof. Something other than intel. A test."

"Of course." This demand does not faze him. He has come here fully committed to this path and nothing they can throw at him will cause him to desist.

Vortex laughs and summons five Autobot prisoners. Prowl recognised them, knows their faces from his files, their lives and their ambitions. He knows all his Autobots and whilst his spark may have ached at what was to come once, his capacity to care has been burnt out long ago.

The Combaticon frees him from his restraints and slides the rifle they had taken from him into Prowl's hand. "Kill them," he says and then stepped back, optics glowing with mad amusement. The other Decepticons are relaxed, confident that he would baulk at this demand and then they would kill him.

They underestimate him, underestimate his conviction.

They won't after this.

"Is that all?" he asks coolly. "Kill them and you'll accept my defection?"

"Yes," Thundercracker looks uneasy now and it is something the other Decepticons are beginning to feel.

The Autobots protest. They beg. Called his name and asked for mercy. Cursed him to the Pit and back. But it's not enough, there's no force in the universe that will deter him from this. He has bled energon for this war, sacrificed his ethics, his sanity to keep one step ahead of the Decepticons and now his very spark is lost. There is nothing but the cold knowledge that this was necessary and that he is willing to make it so.

"Enough," he says to them. "The war will be over soon."

He raised the rifle calmly and shot four of them cleanly through the spark. The room froze. Thundercracker exvented roughly. "That's enou-"

Prowl pulls the trigger one last time and then lowered the rifle to his side. His optics do not avert from Chromia's fallen frame. He knew, distantly, that he'd just destroyed the friendship he'd managed to cultivate with Ironhide. That he has just murdered a close friend. That he should be horrified with himself, should be wracked with guilt, sick of his own actions.

He isn't.

He feels nothing.

It does not matter.

Nothing matters now except his mission.

X

He is cold and he is tired.

They dragged him away and branded him with the Decepticon mark. They tore the Autobrand from his frame and no medical aid was given to heal the jagged hole it left in his chest plate.

It all meant nothing to him. Just one sign that peace is one step closer. That the balance is tipping in the Decepticons' favour. The Decepticons do not trust him but then again, they do not trust each other. Thundercracker is not afraid to listen to his counsel but despite the exhaustion in his optics, he does not act on Prowl's suggestions. They are cautious, watching him for signs of this being one large, complicated plan.

That did mean they aren't afraid to make use of him, Vortex isn't afraid to make use of him. His new home is Vortex interrogation chamber. Sometimes, Vortex called him in to help as he ripped a hapless Autobot into pieces. Other times he is inside it, as the Combaticon tries his best to tear intel from his processors

But as Vortex came to learn, as the Decepticons came to learn, no one could make use of Prowl unless he wanted it. He had given himself over to them but that did not mean he had given them free reign in his mind. That would be awarded to them if he felt it necessary and eventually…

Eventually, they begin to listen to him.

He starts small.

X

"We're taking down Shockwave?" Skywarp asks excitedly.

Prowl looked at him calmly. "Yes."

His Decepticons rouse at this. Awakened. It had been a long time since they'd engaged an enemy. This is not Prowl's doing, Thundercracker is a reluctant commander and Shockwave's orders have been sparse and few.

They fall onto Darkmount gleefully, eager to uncover the secrets Shockwave have been concealing. The drone defences never stood a chance. They find great stores of energon and other materials, hidden away where no one could use them. And then…then they found the prisoners.

They were Autobots and Decepticons alike. Old friends and enemies. Some of them driven insane by barbaric experiments, others barely hanging on to their sanity.

And Prowl…Prowl witnessed something astounding then. Pity stirred within his Decepticons as they freed them. They made no distinction in the prisoners; they treated their wounds and nursed them back to sanity regardless.

Maybe, maybe they had begun to see how few of them were left. Maybe they had begun to realise that all they could do now was preserve what they had left. The reasons were unimportant, what mattered was they were changing.

Prowl has witnessed the beginning of the end.

The coldness in his spark does not move an inch.

X

They listen to him now. He's been with the Decepticons for so long, that sometimes they forget that he wasn't always one of them.

When Prowl speaks, he does not make impassioned speeches about the sanctity of life and the need to preserve Cybertronian kind. Empathy does not move the Decepticons; they did not need empty hopes or promises of a better future when they knew that without the Allspark, their race was lost. Instead, he gave them cold hard facts. He calmly notes that all who would have once oppressed the Decepticons are gone. Dead. He mentions planets and asteroid fields that have been scouted and are rich in raw materials and resources. Cybertron can support the population that remained now.

And then…then he speaks of the Autobots. He speaks of their strengths, their weaknesses, the easiest ways to breach their defences, their encryptions keys. The way Elita One planned his attacks, that Ultra Magnus usually fought defensively unless severely pressed. The signs and tricks of undercover Autobot mechs. The Wreckers, the Dinobots, the methods to their madness.

The Decepticons made their plans. Mechs were sent off to mine those far away resources. The Constucticons began to rebuild Kaon. Restoration work restoredhis troops, revived them from their stupor, they were eager to work, eager to see a future take shape that did not involve more war. And the Autobots…Thundercracker was a reluctant leader. When it came to dealing with the Autobots, he left it in Prowl's servos.

X

Routing the Autobots had been…easy. Too easy. After all that he had done, all that he has been through in the war, it felt anticlimactic. But then again, it had been a long time since the odds have been stacked so heavily in his favour. He was just unused to it. It should not have come as a surprise to him.

Killing the Autobots wasn't an option. He had not come this far just to wipe out half of what remained of his people. But they would not be complacent in defeat; he knew how indomitable the Autobot spirit was. They would not live peacefully with his Decepticons, who were beginning to move on and rebuild.

So he stripped them of their weapons and kept most of his Decepticons faraway thus restricting the amount of damage they could cause to each other. He placed the Autobots in prisons in Iacon but he would not keep them there, they were free to leave whenever they wished. Maybe some of them would eventually figure it out. Figure out that the fighting was over, that there could be peace on Cybertron if only they reached out and touched it. But he knew that for some, his betrayal of the cause would keep them away forever.

And then…then Elita sought him out.

"I couldn't believe what you had done when I saw you," he says, approaching Prowl as he inspected a building site.

Prowl gave Elita-One his full attention. "I promised Optimus I would keep you all alive. There was nothing else I could have done."

And it is the truth; that this is the conclusion he had been hurtling towards this entire war. He'd based his allegiance on his loyalty to the Prime but in the end he's come to rest where he could serve his people best. He wondered how long ago Jazz had foreseen the Decepticon sigil on his shoulder and then made the decision to turn a blind optic and not plunge an energon dagger through his spark.

Elita turns and spares Iacon a brief glance. It was still a war-zone, a dead city full of damaged buildings and broken bodies. But there were signs of life, of Decepticons moving rubble and giving the dead their last rites. Signs of healing.

Then the Autobot's attention returned to Prowl and the brand that divided them. "Is this peace?" he asks, gesturing to his confiscated weapon mounts.

"It could be," Prowl replies simply. "Have you had need of them since the Autobots' defeat?"

Elita's optics widens slightly then he lowered his gaze to the jagged hole in Prowl's armour. "This is real," he marvels and then a small smile graced his faceplates. He looks up at the Cybertronian sky. "This is real."

"It is indeed," Prowl allows neutrally.

X

Prowl is tired and he is cold.

The war is over but he's burnt out on caring. If the mechs that remain are to move forward, they will need a leader, someone who has a vision. Someone who has passion and can remind them that they are alive and life is wonderful. Someone who can move past thousands of vorns of hatred and bring them back together. That someone is not him.

They are where he wants to be and he has no drive to move them further. He watches as Elita takes up the Decepticon brand, eventually becoming his second. When Prowls steps down it is Elita who steps up to take his place. It is not an easy transition, the Decepticons know him but they do not know Elita. Their impressions of Elita as weak and worthless are quickly revised when he proves to be every bit as ruthless practical as Prowl himself. There is an equally dangerous processor that lurks within Elita's helm and now the Decepticons are exposed to it, full brunt. But for all Elita's detached practicality, beneath it all burns a spark that is still possesses the capacity to care. It has been tempered by the realities and sheer necessities of war but it is still there.
Prowl knows his resignation is the right move when more Autobots start leaving the prisons and ask to join in on the restoration work. They are supervised, of course, but only in the beginning to ensure that they aren't sabotaging their work. But the more they settle in, the more they drive the other Autobots further away from reconciliation.

Prowl knows what they are holding on for. Somewhere out in the vastness of space, there is Optimus Prime and his team. Blaster eventually comes round and tells him that he tried getting a warning out to them. The Autobots are hoping against all rational hope that Prime will return and defeat the Decepticons despite the overwhelming odds.

It may have grieved him once to crush their hopes but he has long since been inured to the fate of things that stand in his way.

X

The war is over, he says. The Autobots have lost.

You betrayed me! Betrayed us! Your oath, the Autobots, their cause. Everything.

I did not. I have done everything that you have asked me.

You were never an Autobot. And Prime's voice is cold, colder than he's ever been before but not as cold as the war has made Prowl.

On the contrary, becoming a Decepticon was the most Autobot thing I could have ever done.

X

The mission is over.

He remains cold.

Is this what you expected Jazz? Is it?

Jazz turns his helm towards him, optics blank and guileless. I have no idea what you are talking about, Prowl.

END