#tw de-aging

Sorry, sorry. Couldn’t resist. 😂

But okay, let’s see how this would play out.

I think I’d go with Prowl remembering his life in TFA, simply because I refuse to wipe his mind like that (we’ve already got Amnesia!Wheeljack thanks to these drabbles, let me know peace) and I like the idea of him quietly calculating TFA-level mischief for vengeance purposes but being able to play the “oh, I’m just a sparkling” card. Then, he just openly reveals the scheme when his family shows up in TFP for maximum damage.

Let him have a little chaos, as a treat.

This is, of course, a joke.

We all know I’m going serious here. 😂

And yeah, he’d probably stay a sparkling in this case. Let him have a second chance after all of that angst and self-sacrifice, he’s earned it.

But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t get to keep all of his mods and processor-over-matter skills.

Oh, no.

TFP is about to have its hands full…

…

…

…

The cyber-ninja corps taught that energy of the Allspark was everywhere, and Ratchet had always insisted that the force—the giver and taker of all Cybertronian life—was sentient. It made choices, and it sought the team out. It spoke to Sari on several occasions, it saved Optimus’s life, and it may have even brought Wheeljack to them.

It gave—and when Prowl realized that it needed one final push before it would be strong enough to save Detroit, he had allowed it to take. To him, it seemed like a very straightforward exchange: his life for his home and the lives of everyone he loved. That should have been the end of it.

But the Allspark’s motives were not known, even to him. It seemed to make a different call.

And perhaps it had help.

That was the only explanation Prowl could think of when he woke up at the edge of a seemingly bottomless pit set within metal ground.

He kneeled beside that pit for what felt like an eternity, astonished just to be alive and transfixed by the dazzling lights seemingly emerging from the center of whatever planet he kneeled upon.

They shone in unique colors and danced through the sky, each little star seeming so alive.

Eventually, though, Prowl heard footsteps behind him and looked back with wide optics.

“Hey,” a black and yellow mech greeted, his round optics just as wide. “Easy, kiddo. You’re real close to that ledge.” Kiddo? Prowl may have been much smaller than this Autobot, but he clearly wasn’t a sparkling. Slag, he was older! “It’s okay, I promise. My name is Bumblebee. I just wanna help.”

“Wait, what?” Prowl asked, then he clapped his servos over his mouth as his optics went wider.

That… was not his voice.

At least, it hasn’t been—not for a very long time…

“Heh.” The black and yellow mech grinned. “Your vocalizer changing on you? Been there.” He held a servo out. “Come on. It’s gonna be okay.”

Prowl was so shaken that he didn’t hesitate. He took the mech’s servo, then he blinked as he was suddenly scooped up like it was nothing.

Oh, this was terrible…

…

The sparkling was found at the edge of the Well. They weren’t an infant by any means, but the little thing was far from fully grown.

Bumblebee was worried that the sparkling had been abandoned. The little thing hadn’t said a word since the Well, and they wouldn’t answer questions about where his caregivers might be.

So, Bumblebee did the only thing he could think of and brought him to Ratchet and Knockout for a look—only to watch as Knockout yelped and dove behind a table to dodge- Was that a shuriken?!

“Whoa, whoa!” Bumblebee stepped back, holding the startled sparkling to his chest. “Easy, kiddo! Knockout’s friendly, you don’t have to be scared!”

The little sparkling blinked. “… Knockout?”

The former Decepticon peeked up from behind the table and looked back at the shuriken in the wall, his optics wide. “Rather excellent aim.”

“Who armed the child?” Ratchet asked, annoyed. “Miko is already a big enough problem.”

Bumblebee shrugged as he walked over to the table and set the sparkling down. “I have no idea, Ratchet. I found them like this.” He looked down at his ‘new friend’. “They’re heavily modded.”

“Hm.” Ratchet’s optics narrowed as he walked over to take a look. “Outfitting a sparkling like they intend to place them on the front lines of war. When I find the one responsible for this-”

“I know.” Bumblebee nodded, then he saw that the sparkling had gone wide-opticed. “Hey, hey—it’s okay. They’re doctors. I just wanna make sure you’re okay.” He looked at Ratchet. “I found them alone by the Well. Looked like they’d been there for a while. Won’t talk about any caregivers.”

He saw Ratchet grow angrier. “I see.” He pulled a stool over and sat down, and he put on a small smile as he looked at the sparkling. “Hello, little one. My name is Ratchet—and my dear, cowering colleague is Knockout.” That got an annoyed ‘hey’ from the former Decepticon. “We are the chief doctors and scientists here on Cybertron. You need not fear. Now, can you please tell me your name and what you would like to be called?”

The sparkling blinked. “Called?”

Ratchet had tried to simplify his phrasing for the sake of a sparkling that young, but he had clearly gone way too simple and way too vague.

Bumblebee snorted.

He was good with the kids he liked and knew, but Ratchet had always preferred science to medicine and it showed in his bedside manner.

Fortunately, they had a translator.

Knockout stood up. “Pronouns, pipsqueak.”

He was trying to sound harsh, but he couldn’t be.

It took a truly cold spark to be cruel to a sparkling, even one that had threatened you with impaling.

“Oh.” The sparkling nodded. “… Prowl. He/him.”

“Prowl?” Ratchet seemed perplexed, then he raised a servo to his chin. “Hm. Your caregiver or caregivers must have been honoring-” He sighed and shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. Can you tell me who they are and where they are, Prowl?”

The young mech shifted uncomfortably. “Oh, um…” He raised his shoulders. “I, well… It’s sort of-…” He sighed, then he shook his head. “No, I-… I really don’t know where he is. He’s… lost, with our family—and I guess that I’m lost now, too.”

Articulate for his age, even if he was nervous.

“What is your caregiver’s designation?” Ratchet pressed gently. “Perhaps we can find him.”

Prowl gripped the edge of the table. “Hm.”

He didn’t seem able to respond.

He just looked sad, and scared.

…

Bumblebee carried the sparkling to the mess hall for the day’s final refueling, with Knockout and Ratchet trailing behind them with dejected faces.

None of them really knew what to do next.

They just had a lost little sparkling, one that was found to have a very unique internal makeup by the end of Ratchet and Knockout’s examination—and he was being very quiet, especially about his home and his family. That was not a good sign.

It was so early in the rebuilding and repopulating of Cybertron that they were still struggling to forge the infrastructure for sparkling care. There had been few (if any) summoned from the Well given that few had been deemed by the Allspark both willing and capable of taking on a sparkling in these early days, and it had not yet become the critical issue it had been during the Age of Rust.

They did notice, however, that the sparkling was too old to have been called from the Well since it reawakened yet too young to have been born from it before it closed. Stasis-lock was a strong theory, though that did raise further concerns about whether they’d be able to find the young mech’s family. They could have been long gone.

Bumblebee was born into the war. Some even claimed he was the last spark to leave the Well before Optimus had sent the Allspark away. He didn’t like to think of the sparkling in his arms being anything like him, but the combat reflexes did not lie. This kid was ready to fight and kill.

It put an ache in his spark.

Prowl didn’t want to touch his Energon. He just sat beside Bumblebee and looked at it warily.

Bumblebee, Knockout, and Ratchet all tried to get him to refuel, but he just wouldn’t have it.

Even Steve gave it a shot and failed. His fellow Vehicons patted his back sympathetically.

Smokescreen, Arcee, and Bulkhead watched them worriedly from another table nearby.

All of the usual table setups had been disrupted given the need for the medics and Bumblebee to stay with the little sparkling, and curiosity.

Optimus and Ultra Magnus sat across from each other at another neighboring table, and it was the newly-returned Prime who finally stood.

“… Prowl, was it?” The retired Prime walked over and kneeled beside the table to look at the almost comically-small sparkling. “I know that you must be frightened. You are lost in a strange place with strange people, and you miss your home and your family.” Prowl looked up at him. “But you must refuel, little one. You need your strength.”

Prowl frowned. “I know.” He looked at his canister of Energon, and he crossed his arms—seeming a mix between nervous and petulant. “… It’s wrong.”

“Wrong?” Optimus questioned him.

Prowl huffed. “My… caregiver needed this kind of Energon, but my… siblings and I are different.” He looked up at Optimus. “And our Energon wasn’t really enough to keep him fueled, so… I’m kinda worried that this is gonna make me explode.”

Optimus blinked. “… I beg your pardon?”

Ratchet activated his scanner and ran it over the sparkling again, and his optics got huge. “… Oh.”

“You have got to be kidding me,” Knockout said, his crimson optics wide. “Different internals and different Energon?” He shook his head. “Where in the universe did this kid come from?”

Prowl grimaced.

…

Once Ratchet was able to confirm that Prowl’s systems could (probably) take the Energon, the sparkling tentatively tried it and refueled—but it seemed to give Prowl far too much energy.

Ultra Magnus made a rather unhealthy habit of staying up late to go over paperwork anyway, so he volunteered to keep an optic on the strange little mech until he was ready for stasis.

Prowl seemed intimidated by him, but did not fight it when Bumblebee left him in the Wrecker commander’s quarters and Ultra Magnus gave him a few data-pads to peruse while he went to work. The young ‘bot was highly intelligent and aware for his age, so the commander had no concerns about his ability to read them.

It was quiet in the room as the commander sat at his desk. His claw-like prosthetic, as always, was frustrating—and he still caught himself forgetting it, even cracking data-pads sometimes.

Wheeljack used to fix them for him, but… it had been two years, and there was still no sign. Most had given up hope on their lost Wrecker.

Ultra Magnus wouldn’t believe Wheeljack was truly gone until he saw it. Primus himself would have to claim that stubborn mech’s spark.

He would come back, someday.

“… You’re the leader of the Wreckers,” Prowl finally spoke up, and Ultra Magnus paused. “You used to be Optimus Prime’s student, but… you left, to lead the Wreckers. To help them.” He looked at the Forge, which was sitting neatly in a corner. “… That hammer is meant to stand for creation.”

Ultra Magnus tensed, then sighed. “Yes, it is.”

Optimus had told him that it was no time to stand on ceremony when he, rather impulsively, claimed that he would put the Forge to good use.

He could not say he had taken the best care of it. Within weeks, a Predacon snapped it in half.

And if asked if he believed he honored what the Forge stood for, he would have to disagree. He wondered how quickly rumors had spread…

Prowl looked at the commander again. “… In your servos, I hear it still does. You’re an optimist.”

Ultra Magnus blinked, surprised, then he looked back at the young mech. “I’ve rarely heard myself described that way. Where did you hear that?”

Prowl just looked at him. “… You’re different than I expected. Quiet.” He looked at his data-pad. “And you care a lot about your soldiers. I see it.”

Ultra Magnus raised an optic-brow, then he saw that the little sparkling wasn’t reading one of the history texts he had provided. He had taken an old, weathered data-pad from the shelf.

The commander tensed. “You, um… You probably shouldn’t be reading those old reports, little one. I fear they’re hardly… age-appropriate.”

Ratchet was going to kill him.

Optimus as well, no doubt.

Prowl shook his head. “I wanna know.”

Ultra Magnus stood and walked over to him, and the sparkling looked up warily before blinking as the commander sat down on the floor with him.

“… Wheeljack, huh?” Ultra Magnus saw what the current report was describing, and he gave a little smirk. “Is he someone you look up to?” When the tiny sparkling nodded, the commander hummed. “Just don’t let Ratchet know. He’ll short-circuit.”

“You don’t mind?” Prowl asked him.

“No.” Ultra Magnus shook his head. “While he is stubborn, and reckless, and… so frustrating.” The sparkling snorted. “… He’s a good mech. He’s the bravest Autobot I’ve ever had the honor of serving beside—and he cares about his unit, his family.”

Prowl gave a small smile. “I know.”

Peculiar, that certainty.

“Hm.” Ultra Magnus looked down at the data-pad again. “… Now, I actually remember that day.”

Prowl raised an optic-brow. “It says you gave him inventory duty for a year after this happened.”

“And it wasn’t the first time,” Ultra Magnus noted. “But I did it for a good reason.” Prowl looked up at him. “See, Wheeljack had a bad habit of staying up at night—even when he wasn’t assigned the watch. He’d stay awake until he finally dropped from exhaustion, doing all he could to protect the unit.” He pointed to the data-pad. “So, whenever his famous bravado (or insubordination) gave me the necessary excuse, I would assign him to inventory duty—and I purposefully made the procedure so repetitive and tedious that-”

Prowl lit up. “He’d fall into stasis!”

Ultra Magnus smirked. “For which I would assign him more inventory duty.” The sparkling laughed, and the commander chuckled. “Oh, but he got his revenge. When he noticed that I wasn’t refueling regularly, he actually threw a canister at my head before he raided a Decepticon patrol’s camp to sure-up our own supplies—gave me no excuse.”

Prowl snickered, then he looked up at the Wrecker commander. “You looked after each other.”

“… I should have done a better job,” Ultra Magnus said softly, looking away. “I let him down when we first met, and… Wheeljack has a tendency to get lost, when he’s very upset—but he means to do it, so he can find his way back. This time, however, he got lost on accident… and I really don’t know when he’ll be able to find his way back home.”

Prowl frowned. “… He’s coming back.” He looked down at the data-pad. “That’s the rule… And he won’t give up.” He shook his head. “He doesn’t.”

Ultra Magnus gave a small smile as he looked down at the sparkling again. “You know what?” He nodded. “I think you’re right, Prowl. Like I said, he’s stubborn… He’ll be back, someday.” Prowl yawned as he nodded back, and Ultra Magnus carefully scooped the little one up. “Come on, little Wrecker. It’s time for you to get some stasis.”

Ultra Magnus walked over and set the sparkling down on his berth, then he returned to his chair.

It wasn’t the first time the commander had slept in a chair, and it likely wouldn’t be the last.

He would go scavenge for a sparkling-sized berth in the morning, let Prowl pick out a room.

This arrangement was just for the night.

…

…

No one could really explain it, how Ultra Magnus ended-up being the one to look after Prowl.

The general consensus was that, since Energon gave Prowl so much energy, it was practical for him to be looked after by the resident night-owl. That was their reasoning why Prowl eventually seemed to move in with the Wrecker commander, at least—he kept falling into stasis in that room.

But it was more than that.

Prowl seemed to be agitated by the usual fawning and coddling that occurred when a sparkling was spotted. He was very mature for his apparent age, and he didn’t like to be talked down to or teased.

Miko was able to testify that what endeared her to Ultra Magnus was that he treated her like an adult while also looking after her wellbeing. He did not patronize her, he gave her a real mission while also seeking to keep her out of harm’s way.

It was the same with Prowl.

Once he registered that maturity, Ultra Magnus didn’t treat the young mech like a sparkling with his words or his actions. He let Prowl do what he felt he was capable of and come to him for help when he hit a block. He didn’t hover, didn’t fret—he kept an optic on Prowl, but truly trusted him.

Additionally, once he was comfortable in his new home at Iacon, Prowl seemed to harbor a peculiar grudge against Bulkhead of all ‘bots. He made a big gesture of covering his audial sensors when he heard the green mech start telling a war story, or he would bring out one of Ultra Magnus’s own records in order to actually correct the Wrecker.

When Ultra Magnus questioned him, Prowl flatly said that his brother was an avid historian and that their caregiver had taught them all how to spot propaganda—and that Bulkhead’s stories felt the same, hiding horrors beneath “glory”.

There were a few dropped jaws after that.

And Optimus let Prowl into the archives, since the sparkling seemed so keen to learn about- Well, just about anything he could get his servos on—from history to wildlife, even going into science. He seemed especially interested in Kimia.

The little sparkling would also talk to Optimus—and the Prime once carried him into the mess after a long day, set him down, and slumped into his seat before saying, “I was just psychoanalyzed by a protoform. Do we have any high-grade?”

Prowl just patted his head while Ratchet looked positively scandalized and Knockout howled with laughter, and it was a whole ordeal. Afterwards though, Optimus did seem to be a little different—more open about his opinions and problems, which always made Prowl smile up at him.

Prowl never got along well with Bulkhead, but he liked Miko—and he and Arcee didn’t mind each other, though Arcee was clear on her hesitance to be a part of raising such a young sparkling.

The sparkling was fond of Bumblebee, and he was somehow patient enough for Smokescreen’s energy. It was a surprise when, given how things started, Knockout and the Vehicons developed a good relationship with the sparkling—though Prowl was not afraid to argue with Ratchet.

The Predacons encountered Prowl on a few of their occasional visits—and Predaking urged his fellows to stay back, seeming aware of the care to be taken with such a small Autobot. One who led the first, or last, of his kind deeply respected the value of a sparkling regardless of allegiance—and Prowl did not seem to fear the massive beasts.

Prowl was remarkably brave, actually.

It was endearing, but also concerning. Someone that young shouldn’t have to be fearless, they should have known it was alright to take shelter and seek help—but he rarely did, so independent.

Over time, Ultra Magnus learned more about his missing family. He had several brothers and a sister (who had a different caregiver, who was family), and a grandfather. Their caregiver had adopted them, and he protected them and taught them how to protect themselves when others hadn’t prioritized their safety or happiness. This caregiver was kind, but sad—and reckless, but gentle. He was a great pilot, and a fierce guardian.

Ultra Magnus hoped he lived, that all of them did.

As time went on, Prowl seemed to adjust.

He was less hostile and wary, and acted more like a sparkling his apparent age should. A lot of the weight in his optics faded, and he seemed more youthful—even showing excitement when little Wildbreak came around, even though he had never expressed interest in other sparklings.

Ultra Magnus was relieved by the development.

Perhaps Prowl could have a real childhood at Iacon, a good foundation for the rest of his life.

Though he never was the best at putting these things into words, the Wrecker commander hoped he would be able to help facilitate that foundation so long as Prowl wanted him to.

…

Prowl didn’t understand why, but… the longer he spent in Wheeljack’s reality, alive but reduced to a very young sparkling, things got lighter.

He still had his memories. He knew who he was, where he came from. He could sense the sparks of everyone around him, tiny but powerful storms within their armor. With effort, he even could still summon the discipline for processor-over-matter.

But the memories that used to burden him, while they lingered, were strangely eased. Not numbed, never numbed—and he woke up from nightmares some nights that Ultra Magnus had to calm him down after, holding him and singing in a language he didn’t understand… not at first, at least—but he did start to learn… but… that was just it. He was acting more and more -well- his age, like he was actually a sparkling all over again. It scared him initially, but… since he wasn’t actually losing his memories and felt better than he had in a very long time… Prowl eventually just let it happen.

And as time went on and he made new memories in his new life, habitually recalling the past seemed less and less important.

Days could go by with him being immersed into his new home, and he didn’t mind it.

He wondered if it would someday be difficult to remember his old life, as he was about to live a new one. That worried him, at first.

But, he supposed, it may not be necessary to sacrifice his future to relive the past.

Had he not given enough?

It wasn’t like he was reliving his life. He couldn’t undo his past—and while he had made mistakes and experienced pain and lost, there were many things he would like to leave perfectly intact.

It was a second chance, one that he wasn’t sure he deserved and honestly believed he had earned less than many of his teammates back home—but the Allspark worked in mysterious ways.

It made this choice after he tried to sacrifice his life, giving him a brand new life to live. He would be a fool to say that he would rather return it.

It was a gift.

And he was thankful to be alive in any form.

He just hoped that the -well- hope that he shared with Ultra Magnus would be enough, and that he would one day be reunited with his teammates.

Wheeljack had to survive the conflict, while still protecting the others, and find his way home.

Prowl hoped, every day for eight years, he would.

…

…

Wheeljack was back.

And he had cracked open the multiverse.

Few would have believed it if they were not seeing him for themselves, the long-lost Wrecker with a team full of alternates trailing behind him.

The reunion was joyful, then tense.

Ultra Magnus honestly lost track of time, and the sparkling he had taken into his care must have noticed the absence of the rest of the family.

The commander blinked as he heard soft steps and looked back, then he gave a warm smile.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” He got down on one knee to face the little one, who held a seemingly comically-oversized data-pad to his chest with his arms. “I was supposed to meet you in the archives. You have my apologies.” He saw the sparkling peek around him, an optic-brow raised in confusion. “I have a surprise for you. Maybe you’ll be able to cheer him up. He’s had a very stressful day.”

“Who?” Prowl asked, perplexed.

Ultra Magnus gently scooped him up and stood, still smiling. “Remember your favorite role-model, little Wrecker?” He turned around and gestured to their new arrival with his optics. “Look who it is.”Prowl looked up and blinked, then his optics went wide—and Ultra Magnus chuckled. “I know.”

Wheeljack was looking down at the floor, drained and not in the best of spirits—then he looked up in surprise as Ultra Magnus stepped forward.

“Hey, what’s-?” He blinked as he saw the little sparkling in the commander’s arms. “Uh…”

“It seems that I must introduce one of our newer additions,” Ultra Magnus began. “Wheeljack, this is-” He saw the look on his soldier’s face: wide optics, genuine shock. “Wheeljack? What is it?”

Wheeljack did not respond.

He just stared at Prowl, then his optics suddenly rolled back into his head and he just dropped.

“Whoa!” Despite what had just occurred between them, Bulkhead immediately stepped forward to catch his old friend. “Okay, ‘Jackie’s down!”

“Wheeljack?!” The young Optimus who had come through the portal looked at the white Wrecker worriedly, then he noticed Prowl. “What the-?”

“Whoa!” Bulkhead’s optics widened as his young alternate had to catch the young Optimus as he too fell back. “That’s a little Prime, also down!”

Prowl cringed, hugging his data-pad closer to his chest as he watched this. “Uh-oh.”

“Prowl?” Ultra Magnus glanced down at the little sparkling, concerned. “What is it?”

Prowl looked up at him apologetically. “Well, um… My family’s here.” He looked at the visiting ‘bots who remained conscious and waved. “Hi.”

“… Okay, seriously: what the fuck?” The techno-organic among them asked bluntly.

The young Bulkhead looked back at her with narrowed optics. “Sari! Language!”

“It’s valid, okay?!” Sari insisted, then she gestured at the sparkling. “It is very, VERY valid!”

The young mech introduced as ‘Jazz’ stared at Prowl as well, then Smokescreen had to quickly lunge forward catch him as he too nearly fell over in shock—though he stayed conscious.

The young Bumblebee just stared at Prowl, then he deadpanned. “Great. My annoying-but-cushy family baby status has been revoked.” He walked up and rested his servos on his hips as he gazed at Prowl. “Were you an adult, I’d actually hit you. You scared the slag out of us, you self-sacrificing little jerk!” Prowl peeked up over the data-pad, and that smaller Bumblebee deadpanned. “You cute, very cute… self-sacrificing little jerk.”

“What is going on?” Ratchet asked, perplexed.

The other Ratchet looked at him. “That’s what we’d like to know.” He pointed to Prowl. “And I think that we’re all owed an explanation.”

“Um…” Prowl blinked. “I’ll do my best?”

“Your best?” The other Bulkhead frowned.

Prowl looked away sheepishly. “Yeah, um…” He looked up at them again. “I remember a lot, but I’m still-…” He raised his shoulders. “Well, I’m-…”

“… Oh, slag—I just threatened a baby,” the other Bumblebee said, his optics going wide.

And that was all it took to tip Jazz over the edge.

He passed out, too.

…

Once Wheeljack and the others finally woke up, the story came out—the terrible conflict in the other universe, and a brave young mech who sacrificed his life to save millions of people.

“I did it?” Prowl asked softly once that had been confirmed, and Ultra Magnus held him closer.

This whole thing was strange to him—but the little one was still his a sparkling, and clearly was not much more an adult in mind than in body.

He was starting to understand why the young mech had started out so mature and haunted but grew lighter and cheerier over time in spite of his nightmares. The terrible events that were being described were still present in his mind, but had faded over time. He really was a sparkling again.

That was clear as Prowl described how he had arrived there. Those who came from the other universe seemed surprised and even worried by the childish manner he spoke and acted with.

Apparently, before Jazz came along, he had been something of an eldest sibling to the young ones—and his easy acceptance of affection surprised them as well, as he had been kind but distant.

Ultra Magnus would not have believed it if it was not clear that Prowl actually remembered this.

Once Prowl had explained his waking up and the current state of his mind as well as possible, Ultra Magnus took over explaining the past eight years. The tired sparkling shot him a grateful look.

All of the visitors were shaken, especially Jazz—who had solely witnessed the apparent death.

Wheeljack was also shaken, and Ultra Magnus knew why. Seeing a sparkling lost return alive…

When it was over, and everyone was just sitting there—at a loss—Ultra Magnus looked down at Prowl and raised an optic-brow. “Want down?”

The sparkling nodded, and Ultra Magnus gently set him on the floor so that he could run over to Wheeljack and Jazz. “It wasn’t your fault.” They looked down at him, surprised, and Prowl crossed his arms. “It wasn’t. I made my choice.” He stood up taller. “And I’m okay, so don’t look so sad.” He gave a small smirk. “Bumblebee stopped me from slipping into this Allspark, so you won’t be getting rid of me again any time soon. Deal with it.”

“… Slag, I’m gonna hafta deal with his rebellious teenage phase,” Wheeljack muttered, then he managed a small smirk in response. “Heh.”

Prowl snorted. “You haven’t seen anything, yet.”

“Oh, I better have,” Wheeljack told him pointedly, then he blinked as Prowl hugged his leg before taking a sharp vent. Carefully, the white Wrecker gathered the sparkling in his large servos and picked him up, then he brought Prowl to his chest and hugged him as his optics teared-up. “I better have, ya little punk. Don’t you ever-…” He shook his head. “Don’t you ever scare us like that again.”

Prowl closed his optics and hugged him back as well as he could. “Saved your life. Free pass.”

“No.” Wheeljack opened his optics. “No… No, kid.”

Prowl opened his optics and looked at him sadly, then he gave a small smile. “I’m really okay, Dad. I know it’s weird, but… I’m really okay.” He glanced back. “I’m not really the same as I was anymore, and I’m not sure how long I’ll be able to remember it all… but Ultra Magnus and the others took good care of me while we were waiting for you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Heh.” Wheeljack opened his optics and looked up at Ultra Magnus, and he nodded. “Good.”

…

…

Prowl was over two-million years-old when he gave his life to restore his reality’s Allspark.

It will take several thousand years for him to mature back into his adult form, and he still won’t that same cyber-ninja who perished that day.

He could recall it, of course—but it was faded, shadows sought after and pulled from deep in his mind. They didn’t trouble him much anymore, but it also took effort to bring them back at times.

His family was patient with him.

TFA Bumblebee and Sari were eager to be elder siblings, which TFA Bulkhead hoped would teach them maturity and responsibility. It mostly taught them paranoia, as a very young Prowl was far less dignified than an adult one—not afraid to lead his family on chases or scare them with holograms.

TFA Ratchet made a habit of scanning rooms and activating his magnets, the fraggin’ cheater.

TFA Optimus was bewildered to see Prowl like this, but Prowl didn’t mind that the Prime still spoke to him like he was an adult. The sparkling preferred it, actually—so they got along just fine.

Jazz harbored a lot of guilt over what happened. Prowl could tell, during their training sessions. One day, he used processor-over-matter to dump a bucket of water over the older cyber-ninja’s head—getting some irritation, but he pointedly told the other mech he’d rather see him like that than mopey. Jazz looked genuinely touched until Prowl lost his focus and dropped the bucket on the older cyber-ninja’s head, and the two of them eventually laughed together over the absurdity.

And then, there was Wheeljack.

He never was good at communication, was he?

He was constantly worrying about overstepping, especially once Prowl and Ultra Magnus were so close. Evidently, calling him “dad” didn’t send a strong-enough memo for the white Wrecker.

Also, when asked by TFA Bumblebee about which of the Wreckers was actually his caregiver after eight years, Prowl had just one answer for him:

Get the chart.

You wanna see schemes? THESE are schemes!

Prowl may have been young, but he was entirely self-aware. Little shit knew what he was up to. He went “Parent Trap” on those idiots mercilessly.

Once the mission was accomplished, the little menace was the proud son of a confused yet happy UltraJack. The others were very impressed.

Prowl did start to settle down eventually, and even began to resemble his more-serene older self. The general consensus was that, with the multiverse cracked open, he was able to go back to refueling with the correct Energon variant—and he did age faster than a sparkling from the TFP universe. But it was more than that.

Wheeljack and Ultra Magnus know Prowl settled down the day they brought Strongarm home.

They had been worried at first about how he would react, but they shouldn’t have been.