A.N. And disclaimer: To say this story is long or complicated is probably an understatement, it's huge, and a hell of a challenge. The only things this has in common with my other stories is that it will follow the same basic time-line i.e. G1ish and on Cybertron, which is more for the sake of my own sanity (what's left of it), than anything else, and the cast, which do not belong to me, but I've spent a lot of time with them, I love them, and it is my great pleasure to borrow them for a while.

Enjoy. FB.

A Ghost of a Chance

Prologue

The last few notes of music faded out and Jazz stepped down from the stage. The ball was in honour of delegates and dignitaries, stiff mechs and femmes who rarely, if ever, seemed to know how to throw a party, but Jazz had enjoyed himself. The crowd might not be as lively as he was used to, but the acoustics were incredible.

There was also something about the room that strummed at his internal workings, he supposed it could have been stage-nerves, but for such a seasoned performer that was unlikely. He tried to tell himself that the feeling was probably caused by the fact that his audience was comprised of some of the most important beings on Cybertron, rather than his usual crowd of music lovers, but he knew it was a lie.

The musician did his best to shake off the odd sensation, but he could feel it tugging at his circuits, telling him that something was different. If he had been a gambling mech he would have said that the dice were rolling, but he had never succumbed to that particular vice.

Across the ballroom he caught sight of a mech with a red chevron hurrying off, and the moment he was through the door the weird feeling vanished, whatever it had been was gone, or had never been there in the first place. With a shrug he walked on, caught the optics of a pretty, little femme who was serving high-grade and smiled.

Bonus scenes – this is not Bluestreak's story, although he will turn up later. I just couldn't resist playing with lil'Blue for a while. The first of these scenes is set shortly after the prologue, the second a vorn or so later.

The hub-feeds had been horrifying, there had been no warning, no chance of sending help, and Uraya, a city famed for its prosperity and peacefulness, had burned.

Thousands of lives had been lost in a moment of flame that shaken the ground mega-miles away, and even melted buildings. Early reports had claimed that there were no survivors but then, just as everyone had given up hope, a search and rescue mech had found a sparkling in the wreckage and brought him to Iacon for treatment.

Sentinel Prime had shown a great deal of interest in the sparkling, as soon as he had been found the leader had commed Ratchet and ordered him to oversee his care personally. Since then he had checked in at least three times a cycle for information, and as soon as Ratchet had deemed the sparkling to be healthy enough he had arranged for them to visit him.

Ratchet understood the Prime's concern. In times of trouble it did a 'bot good to focus on the positives, and as the only survivor, the sparkling represented the only good thing to be salvaged from the ruins of Uraya.

The doors to Sentinel Prime's state rooms opened before the medic could knock, and a security mech looked out. "I thought I heard someone coming," he said coolly. "As I'm sure you can appreciate we're taking no chances at this time. You must be Ratchet."

The medic nodded to indicate that he understood and confirm his designation, and was led into the spacious meeting room.

Sentinel Prime rose from his desk as soon as they were inside. "Thank you Prowl," he said graciously before he turned his attention to his visitors.

At the sound of the Prime's powerful voice the sparkling gave a startled cry, wriggled, managed to get free of Ratchets grip, and dashed off.

Ratchet gave chase, cursing quietly and apologising to his leader by turns, Sentinel chuckled softly and assured him that there was no harm done before joining the pursuit.

"Quick, isn't he?" Prowl observed as he started to lock the doors so that the sparkling couldn't get out of the room. "There he is," he added before diving behind one of the chairs and coming up with the sparkling in his arms. "Got you," he smiled.

"Well done Prowl," Sentinel congratulated his subordinate. "All I saw was a tiny streak of blue."

"Bwue, Bwue," the sparkling chirped happily before he started babbling in a mixture of clicks and half-formed, none sequential words.

Ratchet found himself grinning, there was something beautiful in the cheerful voice. "He seems to like that, and I have been wondering what to call him," he commented.

"Blue?" Sentinel queried.

"No," Prowl said in a soft, thoughtful tone. "Bluestreak."

"Bwuetweek," the sparkling repeated with a giggle.

Prowl laughed warmly, then looked at Ratchet with a suddenly worried expression on his faceplates. "What's going to happen to him?" he asked.

"We've tried to find anyone with a connection to him, but we've had no success," Ratchet explained. "Our next task is to find a guardian for him."

"Which is the reason why I asked Ratchet to bring him to me," Sentinel interjected. "My bonded and I have talked at great length, and decided that we will take responsibility for him personally."

Both the medic and the security mech arched optic ridges in surprise, Prowl recovered himself first and stepped forward to hand Bluestreak over, "Sir, I'd like to take this opportunity to offer to help in anyway I can," he said formally.

"As do I," Ratchet added, he didn't have to think about the decision, in just a few cycles he had become very fond of the sparkling, and even thought about taking him in himself if no better home could be found, but Sentinel was a wise and caring mech whom he trusted beyond question so he couldn't argue with the decision.

"Thank you both," Sentinel said gratefully.

Ratchet exchanged a smile with Prowl, and realised that after all the worry of the last few cycles the future suddenly seemed a little bit brighter.

Of all the duties Prowl had expected to be given as Sentinel Prime's bodyguard, sparkling care had not been one of them. The Prime and his mate were dignified, refined, and old enough for their own offspring to have become creators, but Sentinel was also a kindly mech, and Bluestreak had needed a home.

Possibly more surprising was the fact that Prowl enjoyed his time with the young mech. He found the soft noise of cheerful chatter soothing, and the prim attitude the youngling affected in imitation of his guardian was both amusing and adorable, although Prowl would never mention that.

His current task should have been simple enough, he'd been asked to keep an optic on Bluestreak while Sentinel Prime was away, however the sparkling seemed to have other ideas. First he had, or at least attempted to climb every piece of furniture in his quarters, then he had run around for a few breems until he had literally run into a wall and knocked himself on his aft.

A less determined sparkling would have given up, but not Bluestreak. He had bounced right up again, and decided that his reason for being was to find out just how many of Prowl's data-pads he could fit into the gap between Prowl's desk and the wall behind it. Prowl would later discover that the answer was seven.

After that he had turned his attention to some building blocks that Sentinel had provided, for a few breems the room had been quiet and Prowl had decided to use the time to prepare the young mechs evening energon, taking his optics off Bluestreak was his mistake but unfortunately Prowl didn't realise this until after a block missed his audio by not much at all, bounced off a storage locker and landed in the energon with a splash.

Prowl wiped the liquid from his face and turned to glare at the sparkling, who laughed and dashed off again, this time making a b-line for the small gap under one of Prowl's chairs.

"Bluestreak!" Prowl called, and the little mech came to an immediate halt just short of his target. "That's enough."

Bluestreak pulled himself up to his full height and made a fair attempt at trying to look dignified, a habit that he'd picked up from Sentinel which, although he would never admit it, Prowl thought was rather cute.

"Come on," he said with a fond smile. "Sit down, drink your energon, and then it's time for some recharge."

For a wonder Bluestreak did as he was told and once his ration was gone he curled up on Prowls lap, soon after his engine slowed down to a soft purr, and Prowl could finally relax.