Hold me - OneShot
Title: Hold me
Rating: PG13
Universe: Bayverse
Summary: Wounds can heal. A little help on the way doesn't hurt.
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters.
Warnings: None
Word count: ~1000
AN: One of my few takes from Prowl's POV. Continuation from Lift me up, but can stand as a oneshot as well. I'm so bad at titles...
It was quiet and dark in the small room. The wan light of optics cast heavy shadows all around him, falling upon broken things in an empty room, hiding them from the world. Shadows, that he wished would simply take him away, make the pain, the anger… the guilt vanish.
His mouth felt on fire, as more burning high grade was swallowed. Wings low, posture slumped, defeated… His optics lingered distastefully around the room, over broken data pads and spilled high grade cubes, over cracks in the wall inflicted by his own hands to the small window, showing bright stars as their beauty slowly faded in his optics, until they fell upon to the prone form on the berth.
Slow, shallow breaths could be heard if one listened closely, patiently.
He couldn't take his optics off, couldn't look away. That… being, resting on his berth - it was the ground beneath his feet, the air his vents needed, the energon his body wanted and the mesmerizing brilliance his spark desired. His world, his everything.
His optics dimmed, until they powered down completely. It was something he didn't deserve, shouldn't deserve, yet he had, right within his grasp. He was forced to watch it die, piece by piece, as it was by his hands that the shattering of it continued, never to stop.
"Come back to bed."
The quiet murmur broke the silence, as dim lighting came from the berth, chasing some of the shadows away. He couldn't bear to look at it, fearing it would crumble under his unworthy gaze.
"Go back to recharge, Jazz."
"C'mon… come back." Jazz pleaded quietly, his tired gaze falling over the desk and its lone occupant, bathing him in light, showing the world how broken he truly was.
"Prowl." The word was breathed and despite its softness, it caused him to flinch. He looked away.
"Come here. Lay down with me."
That plea, that voice….it felt like a part of his spark was ripped out of his chest. He risked a glance, the need to see overwhelming. And he was there, alive, even if Prowl could still see the death in his shadow ready to strike, the vital fluids all over his body, the spark slowly fading away before his very optics, with nothing for him to do but watch helplessly.
Every action had consequences, his where no exception. The difference was, that his consequences were far dearer then the rest, leaving devastating blows, death and carnage. Hope had withered long ago.
He heard shifting and then that voice, the anchor in his life that no one knew about, started again, "Why won't you talk to me?"
Prowl felt his emotions bubbling, ready to surface. They could never stay hidden from this one mech - his greatest strength, the force pulling him forward in this Pit of a war, and his weakness - bond or no bond, Prowl was sure that if the mech disappeared the part of Prowl, the part that made him alive,will die with him. Despite that knowledge, he still kept killing Jazz over and over again.
"Talk?" Prowl finally bit out, voice raw with static, "I can't even dare to touch you, fearing you'll fade." He didn't need to look to know that Jazz was frowning, "These hands do nothing but kill. They are the hands of a murderer who has no right to lay them upon you." The cube he was holding shattered in his grip, broken shards glinting in the night.
"Am I so different?" Jazz asked quietly, voice fading. He was still weak, hurt, because of him. "Are my hands not stained? Drenched in the energon of others? Don't play the martyr, Prowl. Don't."
No response followed. He didn't know what to say, should there something to be said.
"Come to the berth. Rest with me."
The whisper of words caressed his audios, the soft vibrations spreading all over his sensor wings and Prowl wanted to do nothing more but scream. To make him stop. He didn't deserve this, not from him.
"I killed your entire unit." Prowl finally tuned to glare at Jazz, "Just like the last time, and time before that, and the time before that. How long will this go on? How many of your friends, comrades, do I have to terminate until hate kindles in your spark for me?"
"Prowl-"
"Don't Jazz. Just don't. Because of me!" Prowl snarled, standing up, truly disturbed why Jazz refused to acknowledge this, "You lost them because of me -"
"Prowl…"
The flames of his anger were extinguished the moment that voice started again, something different in it, so small yet able to make his spark tremble.
"… I just lost my entire unit, again. Come to the berth, I need you to hold me."
Pained, Prowl watched Jazz's curled in himself, "Please, please, please. I've been surrounded by so much death. Please, I need something alive. I need you."
All of the fight in him died, watching the most important being in his life, broken by his own hands. How can he refuse?
The shadows disappeared, turning into nothing but darkness, as Prowl approached the berth, the light extinguishing behind him, leaving a dark void in its place.
He raised a hand, only to hesitate before it was laid upon a silver helm. Upon the touch, he watched Jazz's gaze lift, so tired and drained, filled with an unspoken plea, searching his.
Prowl climbed on the berth, his touches light and gentle, as if holding the most precious item on Cybertron. He helped Jazz place his helm on his chest, over where the spark burned. He watched the silver mech slump, visor turning off, loosing himself in the life that was Prowl.
And Prowl held him close, basking in the feeling of Jazz, wondering not if, but when he won't be able to do this anymore.
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters.