"Jazz, I'm scared," Prowl whispered hoarsely, clinging to his partner like decals stuck to metal.

"I know you're scared, so am I," Jazz soothed, running his hand along a doorwing and taking in a long vent.

Jazz had never seen his Praxian like this before and to be frank, it was terrifying. He only knew part of Prowl's pain from when Harmonex came screeching to it's knees from within. The spy had both loved and hated his home, with all the good memories, but also the bad that came with them. He couldn't imagine the pure devastation the loss of Praxus was creating across the stars to the scattered souls belonging to the city-state if this was what Prowl looked like. And not just Prowl, but Bluestreak and Smokescreen too. The two remainders and the sole survivor of Praxus in their army.

He had known from his cultural investigation vorns that the culture was tight-knit and based on a connection of trust, but he didn't know just how deep it ran. In any book about Praxus, it was said that the closeness of their culture was simply pride in their city-state and the uniqueness of it that their people reflected, but Jazz had known this was only partially true. Once, he had been able to witness the Evening Prayer families in Praxus gathered together to perform at the end of every orn. No matter if they had argued or just finished a game night, they all sat and prayed for their family, their people and Praxus to make it safely through the night and the next orn. A connection was made between them that looked like sparks reaching out for each other before a bond, even though their sparkchambers remained closed. Wings touching and hands clasped together, they prayed until the blue wisps of energy between them turned white and just like that, they were back to their daily life routines before cycling down for recharge. He was told that there was a city-wide Evening Prayer on each solstice of every vorn, but outsiders were not allowed to witness it and where it was held was kept a well-guarded Praxian secret. That united Evening Prayer was what he discovered kept their people so intertwined and interconnected.

Jazz supposed most families were too scared to stop running from slaughter to perform their ritualistic Evening Prayer. Perhaps that was truly why Praxus fell.

"I don't know what to do," he cried, tears leaking from his optics, despite the monstrous effort being made to hold them back.

"Me neither," Jazz replied, furrowing his brow and running soothing hands over his boyfriend's shoulders.

Keep your hands still Jazz. Keep them still for his sake. Don't let them shake. Don't even let them twitch. You must stay strong for him. You cannot break, no matter the carnage you saw. No matter what the mission brings.

Jazz repeated the mantra in his helm over and over and over until it was ingrained in his processor. He couldn't break. Not with Prowl like this. There would be a time and a place for his monsters to catch up to him, but neither were present now. He needed to be Prowl's strength, no matter how much regret, guilt, loss, failure, pain, ran just under the top layers of his protoform.

Prowl was supposed to be the stoic one. He was supposed to be the mostly emotionless golem protecting his army. He was supposed the be the embodiment of calm precision and now he was shattered. Crushed under the weight of the world that was supposed to be his strength to go on.

"It's gone. Praxus is gone. Blue's all that's left. I can't lose him, Jazz," he sobbed, burying his face in Jazz's chest and clenching his jaw to try and muffle the noise, "I-I can't... I can't..."

"You won't lose him, Prowl. Ratchet's got him stable at the med bay. Blue's gonna be okay," Jazz whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of Prowl's helm.

This was his fault.

If his last mission had been successful. If he hadn't been made. If the chip of stolen data hadn't been found on his frame. If he hadn't been caught. If he had been faster. If he had been stronger. If he had been better.

If so many 'if's had or hadn't happened, Praxus may have still stood that orn.

The Autobots would have had the Decepticons most recent plans. Plans including the raid on Praxus. He could have stopped this destruction, prevented this loss, but he hadn't been successful. He had been caught. He couldn't save Praxus, just like he couldn't save Prowl from his pain now.

A/N: Hi there! So a little explination for Jazz and Prowl's positions; they have the same sort of duties as they usually have, but their rankings are switched because this is movieverse. Jazz is Second in Command/Head of Special Operations and Prowl is Third in Command/Tactician/Head of Discipline. Also, another reminder that I do have some of my own OC's in this. Please enjoy.