{other sides}
part four
“Sit down.” Ratchet said. “I checked your new frame against your database specs and there are some anomalies. Obviously this new frame was meant for combat, and your old one wasn’t, so you’ll need to adjust. But you still have your original processor, and the logic component is three hundred times the legal limit.”
“I can explain.” Prowl said.
“You’ll have to. The other thing…” Ratchet hesitated. “You’re not in your original spark chamber.”
“What?”
“I know it sound impossible, but I checked and double checked it. Were there any distinguishing marks on your spark chamber that aren’t in your file?”
“An inscription on the inside. Right wall, near the bottom.”
“You let someone write on your- never mind. Young fools, I swear…what does it say?”
“It…it says ‘property of Jazz’.” Prowl admitted. He felt numb; one part of him was already planning out the most efficient course of action, but another was still stuck in his spark and his mate. “What happened to my spark?”
“You have a sparkmate?”
“Yes.” Prowl said impatiently.
“Primus.” Ratchet growled. The entire situation was bad. He had had enough problems with mechs whose mates were dead; how did you tell someone their bond was…”I ran a deep spark scan. Your bond is…altered.”
“Is Jazz alive?”
“I don’t know. I ran all his info from the database through the system and didn’t find anything. I’m sorry, Prowl.”
“What do you mean by ‘altered’?”
“I’m no expert on sparks, but it’s almost like your bond’s been cut in half. Normally a bond runs the whole spectrum of spark harmonics- you only seem to be sharing a small portion of them. I don’t even know that you’d be able to tell if something happened to your…your mate. I’ll be keeping you under observation to see if the problem corrects itself.”
“What if it doesn’t?”
“Then we’ll have to do research, keep you under observation. I’ve never seen anything like you before. That you survived being moved to a new spark chamber- it’s a fragging miracle.”
“So there’s nothing to be done.” Prowl said. He could sense something on the other end of his bond, but it was barely there. Would Jazz even hear him if he called?
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Jazz awoke in a room that was not the brig. He was rather surprised for a few seconds before his memories caught up with him. He stared blankly at the ceiling, waiting for it to sink in.
Prowl was alive.
“Primus.” He muttered. The room he was in was white, and he was strapped to a table; it looked like some kind of either torture chamber or medical bay. He could smell cleaning fluid in the air, though, so medical bay was more likely unless cleaning fluid was now a torture device.
If he’d tried to kill his interrogator in a Decepticon brig, he’d be dead or worse, but maybe the Autobots were more lenient about things like that. He couldn’t imagine Prowl bothering to ask for mercy for him, not when Jazz had…had…
“Feeling better?” He jumped- he was too distracted, dangerously distracted, and frag it all, he’d didn’t even care- as the Autobots’ Chief Medical Officer came in. His name was Ratchet, if Jazz recalled correctly. He wondered suddenly why Prowl’s name hadn’t stuck out when he’d gone over the files before starting on his mission.
“You should be fine- I welded up your sides.” Ratchet said dryly. “Prime wants to see you. He’ll be here in a moment.”
“Why?” Jazz had assumed he was being repaired for another interrogation session.
“You’ll find out when he gets here. Don’t move around too much, your self-repair is still working on those welds and I don’t feel like redoing them. Excuse me.” The medic checked the restraint holding Jazz to the examination table again, and then snatched up a heavy wrench and left. As soon as the bright green mech was gone, Prime entered.
He was huge- taller and broader than Jazz, with a red and blue paintjob that might have looked ridiculous on anyone else. Jazz remembered his set of swords and his pulse cannon and the fact that he was a Prime, and felt fear. His confidence was gone, drained away by the emotional whirlwind he’d just experienced- he felt empty and alone and very small.
“You’re Jazz.”
The silver mech didn’t respond.
“Prowl is in the medical bay right now.”
“Why?” Optimus noted Jazz’s response. He looked more animated already.
“You damaged his vocalizer. It seems to be snapping back correctly, but there was no energon reaching his optics, his vocalizer, and several other sensors in his head. There might be damage.” Prime let it sink in.
“He’s not gonna die.” Jazz said. “I’ve strangled mechs for longer without killin’ ‘em.”
“Mechs like the ones on the Arrow? Or the Safeguard?”
Jazz debated for a moment on whether he should talk. The idea of returning to the Decepticons who had damaged his bond and hurt his mate seemed absurd; but if he told them everything now, there would be no point in keeping alive, would there? Prowl wouldn’t want him alive. He could be executed for war crimes.
Besides, he could trade some information for a chance to see Prowl again. Certainly his mate wasn’t going to come to him.
“Might be, yeah.” Jazz tried to summon up his old bravado. “What do I get out of telling you? Megatron’ll kill me if he finds out.”
“We can offer you protection.”
“Can I see Prowl?” Jazz went straight to the point.
“It might be possible.” Optimus had already decided to leave it up to Prowl; he thought it might be to the tactician’s benefit to see his mate, but he wasn’t going to force the issue.
“I might have something to say if I were allowed to see him.”
“I’ll ask him.” Optimus stood up. He had expected the Decepticon to be a much harder negotiator, but he was willing to take what he could get.
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“Lord Megatron.” Starscream sneered, striding into the throne room where Megatron did much of his planning. The Decepticon leader turned, watching the Seeker’s approach.
“What have you to report, Starscream?”
“Only that Jazz has not yet returned with the warp engines, mighty Megatron. He was supposed to have come back by now.”
“How do you think he will fare under the Autobots’ interrogation?”
“Oh, I don’t know. He’s tricky, but not used to pain. And the Autobots are rather weak in their interrogation technique.”
“Don’t underestimate Prime.” Megatron said. “Assume he’s been captured and start changing over all our codes. And do it silently.”
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Prowl was in his quarters, having been forced off duty by Ratchet. For once, he didn’t resent the free time- his mind was not clear.
So Jazz was here. After all this time, his sparkmate had returned- an he was a Decepticon. He was an enemy. Prowl had known that that was the most likely possibility. He had known that Jazz was on the other side, but it hadn’t been truly real until he’d seen the insignia on his shoulder.
Jazz was a killer and a spy and a thorn in their side, and yet some part of Prowl still wanted to protect him. Was it merely an expression of the subroutines that were activated by sparkbonding, a survival method from his core programming, or was it love that drove him? How could he even know? Did he want to know?
There were no answers to these questions, and Prowl had to admit that he wasn’t brave enough to go see Jazz. There were too many things he wanted to say, and some of them were contradictory. Jazz, though he was the other half of Prowl’s soul, was an unknown now, and he was unpredictable. Prowl hated unpredictable things; they created the possibility of error, and when your decisions could kill your subordinates, there was no room for error.
Did Jazz still love him? It seemed like a foolish question when there were seven ships and twenty two lives on the line. His priorities seemed in flux- should he side with what was good for the Autobots, who had taken him in, who he had fought besides, whose cause he believed in, or should he side with Jazz, whom he had loved, might still love, and whom he owed at least an explanation and probably more.
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“You think too much.”
Prowl’s optics flickered as he shifted so he could look at Jazz, who was sprawled gracefully out on top of him. The grey mech called out to him again across the bond.
-Heavy thoughts-?
-I wish you wouldn’t go to Kaon. It’s not safe, Jazz. The Decepticons are in power there now.-
-I’ll be quick about my business there, Prowl, but my friends needs me. I wouldn’t go if it weren’t important.-
-I know. But I dislike the idea of you going into danger alone, especially as you are rather prone to trouble-
-Hey, it’ll be fine. I’m glad you’re not comin’. I’d hate to worry.-
-I’m needed in Praxus, Jazz. Otherwise I would come. I’ll call you when I get back, and I -expect you to answer.-
-I will, I will…That’s right, you’ll be home first…when are we getting’ the double berth?-
-Next week.-
-Shame. I’ll miss this.-
-Miss what? I’m looking forward to recharging without my doorwings being crushed by your weight.-
-Yeah, but think of all the times we’ve interfaced just because it was better then wrigglin’ around all night, tryin’ to get comfortable…-
-So you only interface with me because it’s convenient? Maybe we need separate berths instead.-
-Hey, no need to go that far. I’ll still love you when there’s more than an inch of space between us.-
-I love you now, even if you are about to break my doorwing joints.-
-Guess I should get ready to leave. Make sure you refuel properly while I’m gone.-
-Be careful.-
-Don’t worry. I never do.-
-I worry. Come back as quickly as you can.-
-I’ll be back before you know it. Have fun in Praxus, and don’t bother walkin’ me out.-
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“You really think he’ll defect?” Red Alert was bustling around the security hub, checking to make sure the system was still running. Optimus lingered near the door, trying to stay out of his way. Red Alert was friends with Prowl, as they worked together on most internal issues and banded together to catch troublemakers, and Prime thought that the head of security might be able to help him. Prowl had always maintained some distance from Optimus regarding his past, but Red Alert might know more.
“I don’t think he’ll go back to the Decepticons.” Optimus replied.
“Prowl didn’t tell me about his sparkmate, if that’s what you’re wondering. He only told you and Ratchet. But Jazz doesn’t exactly seem sane- he attacked Prowl twice, which goes against basic sparkbond programming, and he kept screaming that Prowl wasn’t real. And his showing up like this seems…convenient. Jazz would have been stupid not to check out the Autobots onboard the ship before he came, which would have given him Prowl’s name and basic background. I don’t like this, Prime. It’s just not safe to have him onboard where he could manipulate Prowl.”
“Manipulate Prowl?”
“We only think he’s here for the warp engines! He could be here for anything, Prime- assassinating you or some other officer, sowing discord, general reconnaissance, anything. This could all be a plot to take out our tactician!”
“It could be.” Prime agreed. “What do you recommend? Jazz is willing to talk if he’s allowed to see Prowl.”
“I heard.” Red Alert paced back and forth, looking distressed. “We could find out some valuable information if he does talk, but I wouldn’t trust a Decepticon saboteur.”
“Prowl may want to see him- and you’re forgetting about Prowl’s unique situation. We might discover how to replace a spark chamber if we were allowed to study their bond. I think it might be worth the risk.”
“It won’t be worth it if we’re all dead.” Red Alert grumbled. “Ask Prowl whether he’ll see Jazz. He’s in his quarters.”
“I thought I forbade you from putting cameras in personal quarters.”
“Prowl volunteered, and how easy would it be for an assassin to murder one of us in our berths because we couldn’t see them?”
“Considering the amount of cameras on this ship? Not very easy at all.”
“Make sure you cuff Jazz before you let him near Prowl. I don’t trust him.”
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Impossible as it seemed, Jazz was starting to feel bored.
They’d turned down the lights in the interrogation room this time, and even brought in chairs and a table. When the guards had left him there, Prowl had been waiting for him at the table, datapad and stylus in hand. Jazz had assumed that Prowl was there because he wanted information about the Decepticons, and he’d been right.
But it had been hours since they’d started, and Jazz had forgotten how determined Prowl could be once he decided to do something. He was thorough and patient and perfectly calm even when listening to some of Jazz’s less than pleasant tales. There were questions about everything, even the most inconsequential things, and Prowl delivered every single one in the same flat tone.
It was tedious after a while, when he’d run out of things to tell that would make Prowl hate him more and he was left with things like floor plans and profiles.
“Are you repaired?”
“What?” Jazz frowned, wondering where that had come from.
“You were injured during our last…encounter.”
“Your medic welded me up.” Prowl nodded, and looked down at his datapad.
He’d run out of relevant questions earlier, but had continued to interrogate, if it could be called that, Jazz anyways. He didn’t want to leave his sparkmate down in the brig alone, but what to say to him? Prowl had no idea, but now he was out of questions, and either he could ask what was really preying on his mind, or he could abandon Jazz.
That Jazz might deserve abandonment crossed his mind. By his own account he was responsible indirectly for at least six Autobot deaths and sixteen captures. Protocol dictated that Jazz either defect or be put into stasis until the end of the war.
Something in his demeanor must have revealed his inner turmoil; Jazz spoke up.
“I’m sorry.”
Prowl gave his pretense of calm and simply stared at Jazz. “Why did you join the Decepticons, Jazz?”
“They figured out that somethin’ was wrong with my spark.” Jazz looked down. “They thought that you were…gone, so they wanted to study me, see if they could replicate it. They shut off most of my processor so I couldn’t plan an escape. All I could think of was how you were…” Jazz trailed off. “One day they fixed me up for some experiments and left me to close to a terminal. I hacked into it, almost crashed the ship, damn near got deactivated afterwards.”
“And?”
“it was a distraction. So I kept doing it. And when it wasn’t enough, I did…other stuff. Whatever it took to keep from thinkin’ about you.”
“I don’t understand.”
“They told me I was crazy.” Jazz shrugged. “That whatever I felt in my spark was an illusion. I can’t explain why I did it, Prowl.”
“That’s why you attacked me.”
“Guess so.”
“And now?” Prowl asked. He could imagine Jazz killing, if he really tried- and yet the empty look on Jazz’s face was spark-achingly familiar. And yet he had the sense that whether or not he could forgive Jazz was irrelevant; it was impossible to just let him go, whether into stasis or the Allspark or anywhere else.
“It’s in your hands now. I’m a prisoner, remember?”
There was nothing to be said to that. Prowl didn’t think Jazz intended to try and escape, which meant he was at the mercy of the Autobot command. Feeling weary, he pulled Jazz to his feet and handed him off to the guards to be escorted back to his cell.
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A week passed, and then another, and then another. The weeks turned into months.
Had the situation been different, someone would have pointed out to Prowl that his sparkmate was sitting in a cell, but only a day after their second conversation, Prowl successfully predicted a Decepticon attack that was narrowly thwarted. Megatron had developed a new kind of more efficient mini power plant, allowing his soldiers to sport weaponry usually reserved for ships. The Ark coordinated the counterattacks on several fronts, and Prowl found himself mired in work; he had to help plan their overall strategy and assist with each smaller one, he had to sign off and keep track of the influx of requests for troops and supplies, and he had to coordinate the rotation of fresh warriors onto each front.
The battle was long, but eventually the secret of the power plants was cracked and the Decepticons, who had dug in at various places within Autobot territory, were ousted and repelled. Once the clean up was done and things were relatively slower, it was Ratchet who finally reintroduced the subject while helping Prowl dissipate excess spark energy.
“The build ups happen faster when you two are close.” Ratchet explained as he slapped the dissipater onto Prowl’s chest. “By the way, I looked at your spark scans. I think I figured out how to fix your bond.”
“You can correct the spark harmonics?”
“Not exactly. Bonding again might reset them.”
There was a silence as Prowl contemplated that. Intimacy had been the farthest thing from his mind for a long time, even when Jazz had first been captured. His only thoughts of merging came in the form of restless, vivid dreams that he never remembered but always left him hot and trembling when he awoke. He had always ignored the dreams, writing them off as being caused by stress and an overworked processor during his recharge cycle.
“I spared you the trouble and told Jazz this myself.”
“I see.”
“Do you, now. He asked after you.”
“He did?”
“Go see him already. I’m putting you on medical leave for three shifts; figure out what’s going on with your sparkmate by the end of it. He can’t just sit in there forever.”
“Of course.” Prowl got up to leave. Ratchet brandished a wrench threateningly.
“Stop lazing around in my med bay and go already! Primus.”
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Just wondering- any part of Prowl and Jazz's backstory you really want to see written? It's all up in the air right now.