In retrospect, it hadn't been much of a fight. More of a tussle, really, if 'tussle' could be used to describe getting ambushed by a Decepticon and then pushed - not thrown, not kicked, not shot at, but pushed - into the river. From behind, no less.

There were a lot of things about Earth Jazz really liked; water wasn't one of them. It was brackish and dark with unidentifiable detritus, organic materials, and innumerable chemical markers. He wasn't a delicate mech by any means, but it wasn't his idea of a good time, either.

He kicked his way back to the surface only to find Blitzwing (seriously, Blitzwing? He was jumped by Blitzwing?) staring at him. Not just staring - laughing, like there was a joke he missed.

"You should have seen your face, Autobot!" the Decepticon crowed with laughter, miming what Jazz could only assume was a replay of his reaction upon tumbling into the river. He broke out laughing again, and Jazz thought quickly. By himself, his odds of winning were astronomically bad, but he also knew Blitzwing had a history of being easily distracted if the moment struck, which he could use to his advantage - except, before he could do much of anything, the Decepticon did a little dance in his direction and then he left.

That was it.

Dumbfounded, Jazz spent another couple kliks in the river before he hauled himself out and made his way back to the warehouse. He didn't even know what he'd tell the others. He didn't even know what had just happened.

"Blitzwing is on Earth?" Optimus repeated after him, almost disbelieving. Jazz hardly blamed him; these days, the Decepticon presence on Earth was sparse, practically nonexistent. "What does he want?"

"No clue, OP," Jazz sighed. He'd gotten a decent rinse-off after his river bath but it hadn't given him any kind of fresh perspective on what had happened. "Didn't say much, but he made sure I noticed him."

That got the Prime's attention. "Oh?"

"Aside from pushing me in the river? Yeah, after that, he danced at me." Big surprise - saying it out loud made it seem even more ridiculous than he'd thought.

Optimus stared at him. Jazz shrugged openly. There wasn't much to add.

"Well," said the Prime diplomatically, "if there's a Decepticon in the neighborhood, we need to track him down. Autobots - well, you know what to do."

As Blitzwing hauled him up by the ankle, Jazz couldn't help but think there was no such thing as coincidences. He was a fully-trained Cyberninja, a member of the Elite Guard, and yet a huge clunky Decepticon had managed to get the drop on him not just once, but twice. In the same day.

Not cool. Seriously - it was getting slagging ridiculous.

In the split second it took for Blitzwing to flip him upside down, Jazz weighed his options. He pinged the others with a wordless distress signal, but their returning pings told him they were each several minutes away. He could stall for time, or fight, but the odds hadn't changed - he could go on the offensive, sure, but only long enough to get away.

To his surprise, Blitzwing merely regarded him in silence. He didn't get shot at or flung into a building, and equally inexplicable, there was no mad laughter, no ridiculous dancing. Jazz didn't even know what to expect.

"I hope you will accept my apologies for earlier, Autobot," said Blitzwing.

...He really hadn't expected that, though.

"Right," Jazz said, rather awkwardly. What else could he say? "It's cool, don't worry about it."

Blitzwing's servo almost loosened around his ankle-strut as he stared thoughtfully somewhere around Jazz's chestplate. It was the perfect opportunity to slip out, land a solid kick on the con's face before he even hit the ground. Yet, the moment passed without event.

"Sometimes," Blitzwing added, haltingly. "Sometimes we do not agree on the best way to deal with a - complicated issue."

What did that even mean? Jazz didn't like where this was going. If his options were between getting pushed into the river or being offered up on a platter to Megatron because Blitzwing couldn't make up his minds, that wasn't good enough. There was just going to have to be a third option.

He sighed loudly, getting Blitzwing's attention. "Listen," he said. "It's been great, you know, chatting. You seem like a really stand-up mech."

Mollified, the con relaxed visibly, and that was his cue. Blitzwing was close to twice his size, except he wasn't paying attention to anything but Jazz's chin and his grip wasn't nearly as tight as it could have been. Jazz threw his weight at just the right moment, slipping out of Blitzwing's startled servo.

He caught one last glimpse of the con before he burned rubber out of there - puffed up with anger, swearing at no one. Sheesh. Like he expected Jazz to hang out peacefully until his bigger, badder backup showed? No chance.

Third time was the charm, as the humans said. At least his third encounter with Blitzwing went a little more like he would have expected, stuck a little more to the script he was comfortable with.

Even as he took shelter behind a large roadway column to avoid getting shot in the faceplate, Jazz found himself feeling relieved. This, he understood, this he could deal with.

He was alone, again, and it'd been days since his last run-in with the Decepticon. He didn't put the two pieces together until he was dodging bursts of flame that it was also, coincidentally, the first time he'd been away from the other Autobots since then.

Great, so, Blitzwing was stalking him. Waiting until Jazz was alone until he did - whatever he needed to do. Jazz still didn't know why, and at the moment he had more pressing concerns. Fireballs ranked very highly on his priorities. He just couldn't seem to get close enough to the con to make a move, and he didn't have much in the way of long-distance weaponry.

It took him a startlingly long time to realize that Blitzwing had been yelling at him for the past few cycles. At him, because of him, or in his general direction, it was hard to tell.

"Come out, Autobot!" Blitzwing yelled, one of the first coherent things out of his slagging vocalizer.

Jazz nearly laughed out loud. Was Blitzwing joking or just crazy - never mind, he knew the answer to that one.

"I'll pass," he yelled back, unable to resist. He'd already commed the others for assistance, and at the very least he felt he could keep himself alive for the sparse minutes it would take for the team to get to him. When he really thought about it though, Blitzwing hadn't been in much of a hurry to kill him in the first place.

Fireballs notwithstanding, of course. That aside, the con had had more than ample opportunity to kill him the last couple times they'd run into each other, especially since Blitzwing seemed to always be waiting until he was alone before he made...a move...

Oh, Primus. Blitzwing wasn't just stalking him - the con was flirting with him. Even this, even the fire show - it almost seemed designed more to impress Jazz than kill him. Big, flashy, borderline overwhelming? Sounded about right.

Abruptly, Jazz realized Blitzwing was still yelling.

"It's a little hard to hear you over all the explosions, you know!" Jazz shouted, not particularly caring if he was heard or not. His processor was racing. What if he was wrong? If he recalled correctly, Blitzwing had always been considered more of an unpredictable threat rather than a treacherous one. Jazz hoped so; he could work with unpredictable.

"I said if you don't come out I will blow this city to pieces! I will crush it until it is ash, Autobot!"

"You seem to be doing a good job of that already," Jazz grumbled. He knew then he couldn't hide and wait to be rescued. There wasn't a dense human population where they were, but there was enough of one that Jazz couldn't reconcile the risk to their safety because Blitzwing wanted to show off. "Here goes."

Jazz stood. He was without cover, without backup - and suddenly, the onslaught of fireballs ceased. Great; he wasn't really sure if he should have been relieved or horrified that his theory seemed to be right, but at least he didn't have time to think about it very much.

Standing in the center of a deep, scorching crater, Blitzwing stared out at him furiously. His cannon was still aimed directly at Jazz's head but nothing happened.

In an attempt to relieve some of the unbearably awkward tension, Jazz sighed loudly.

"Uh, can we stop for a klik? Maybe talk?" he offered hesitantly. It wasn't something he had ever pictured saying to a Decepticon; then again, this whole situation was a little out of his depth.

"I will destroy you, Autobot," Blitzwing said again. His visor flashed intensely bright in the dark.

"Right," Jazz said uncertainly. He waited, and after a while, Blitzwing straightened. His weapons sagged, falling from their target lock, namely Jazz. "So...?" he hazarded, and the con crossed his arms grumpily and looked away from him.

"Later. It would be far too easy to do it now. Unsatisfying," Blitzwing added. Jazz found himself nodding along, unsure of what to do or say. "When I do, the city will burn-"

Jazz stopped nodding. He waved his hands about, shaking his head to stop Blitzwing's tirade before he got carried away. Strangely enough, it worked. Blitzwing fell silent, and Jazz muttered, "No, no, that right there is way too much aggression. Can you chill out?"

To his surprise, Blitzwing nodded agreeably. Immediately he seemed less agitated, unhurried. The con watched him expectantly, and until it occurred to Jazz that he had no idea what they could even talk about. He couldn't exactly open up with, 'How's your day going, are you enjoying that whole Decepticon gig, by the way, why are you stalking me', now could he?

"Is there something you want from me?" he blurted, unable to stop himself. Blitzwing looked puzzled, so Jazz continued right along. "You've had three really good opportunities to off me over the past week and-"

"Eight," Blitzwing interrupted him gently. Jazz eyed him. Primus, that could only mean one thing- "I have been on Earth for nineteen solar cycles. You are often difficult to find alone."

"So," Jazz began, dubiously, "you've had eight chances to kill me and you didn't."

It was a little disturbing, how proud of himself Blitzwing looked about that. It was a controlled look, a tiny quirk of a smile, and gone quickly.

As hard as he tried, Jazz really didn't know what to do with that. With any of it. He frowned, trying to figure out what was going on in the con's processor. He didn't have much luck. Triple-changers were notoriously - difficult to comprehend. That was putting it mildly.

"Am I supposed to be flattered by that?" he asked at last, honestly curious. Blitzwing looked momentarily miffed.

"Your acknowledgment would be... appreciated, yes," the con admitted.

Jazz thought about that for a klik. Okay, so, there was no doubt. He was being courted by an insane Decepticon. Not even conquer the universe insane, no, but honest-to-the-Allspark nuts, as the humans would say. Of course Blitzwing would consider repeatedly sparing his life to be an acceptable form of flirting. Not to mention the river, the dancing, and the fire show. Of course.

To his surprise, Blitzwing was starting to look as uncomfortable as Jazz felt. It was the weirdest thing he had ever seen, but he could roll with it. For one thing, it was starting to become clear Blitzwing hadn't planned this out particularly well, and didn't seem to know what to do with his target once he'd caught him.

"Well," Jazz began, straightening up, "thank you for not killing me when you had the chance. That means a lot."

Blitzwing smiled, looking genuinely pleased. It looked unexpectedly nice on him.

"You are most welcome, Autobot," he replied, his voice a rumbling purr.

Jazz spared a quick glance around. How long until the others got to him? Would Blitzwing stay, hurt his friends? Perhaps escape, in the hopes of surviving long enough to stalk another day? To what end?

"Look, I need to know," he said, sighing in resignation. "What did you hope to get out of any of this?" When Blitzwing merely tilted his head, Jazz added, "This. Stalking me. Going out of your way to not kill me, except when you feel like flinging me into a river?"

His question, which had seemed perfectly legitimate, was met with the most inexplicable stare. It didn't even seem to warrant an answer, since they both knew Jazz had already figured it out. Blitzwing had wanted to impress him, wanted nothing more than his attention, and now he had it.

Jazz sighed again, shoulders slumping. He could humor Blitzwing's crush on him until backup arrived, but it didn't feel right. For whatever reason, it seemed important to let Blitzwing down as easily (and as firmly) as he could and hope for the best.

Finally, he said, "Okay then. What next? I don't know what you had pictured but sooner or later you're going to have to face a couple of facts. You're a Decepticon. I'm an Autobot. That isn't going to change." Blitzwing frowned and looked ready to argue, but Jazz waved him off. "Yeah, yeah, you're not exactly a loyalist like your partner but you're not going to defect, not in this lifetime. Am I wrong?"

No answer. Blitzwing turned his head. "Thought so," he added gently, surprising himself. He was supposed to be turning the Decepticon down, why did he feel disappointed? "Megatron may still be imprisoned on Cybertron, but sooner or later..." And he found he didn't want to continue that train of thought. "Hey, I just don't see how it could work out."

A low wail from the distance drowned out whatever Blitzwing may have wanted to say in response to that, accompanied by three distinct sets of wheels on asphalt. The others were closing in. Blitzwing looked forlorn, and Jazz made no move to take him into custody. He waited for the con to take off, escape while he could.

Instead, Blitzwing simply stared at him. He didn't move. His wings twitched downward, his frame growing tense. Prime's headlights burned at the end of the street.

Well, go, Jazz couldn't help but think, strangely desperate. What was Blitzwing doing?

Blitzwing took a step towards him, and Jazz didn't move. Although his processor was choked with confusion, he was not afraid.

Fingers twitching visibly, Blitzwing reached for him. His touch was almost imperceptible, glancing up Jazz's arm to his shoulder, and so warm it was startling. "Autobot-" he began, and broke off abruptly, unable to continue.

Jazz's backup had reached them.

The next few cycles passed by in a strange blur. Blitzwing put up a fight, of course, but he was outnumbered and seemed hesitant to use any weapon he could not control completely. It took no time at all for his comrades to wrestle the Decepticon to the ground and all the while, Jazz did little more than watch, feeling oddly disconnected from the events.

Ratchet was at his side. Jazz hadn't even noticed him approach, and now the medic was giving him a speculative look.

"You okay there, Jazz?" asked Ratchet, readying his diagnostic reader. "Did he get you with anything?"

"Nah, I'm good," he answered automatically, if faintly. The scanner tingled against his plating, confirming his claim, but Ratchet still stared at him curiously.

On the ground in front of him, Blitzwing lay crumpled on the asphalt. His face was twisted in impotent fury, struggling against his stasis cuffs and vocal suppressor. Bumblebee stood on top of him, gloating, and Jazz snapped.

"Knock it off, Bee," hissed Jazz, more surprised than anyone by the brashness of his tone. "What do you think you're doing?"

Bumblebee gaped at him but did as ordered, hopping off their defeated foe looking more sullen than regretful. "Geez, sorry," he muttered.

They were staring at him now. Jazz crossed his arms, looking only at Blitzwing, who appeared impressed. "It's been a long day," he said wearily, "can we just get him back to HQ?"

Optimus hesitated for a moment before nodding. "Of course," he said. "We need to contact Cybertron. Looks like we found their missing prisoner."

There was a ship coming, prisoner transport, with an estimated arrival of just a handful of megacycles. It'd been on its way for the past few days, but it wasn't until he got word that it was approaching the planet that Jazz knew he couldn't put off visiting Blitzwing anymore.

They'd put together a makeshift cell; it wasn't difficult, they had more than enough supplies for a cage, but without proper access to more Cybertronian technology, they couldn't restrain him with anything stronger than a set of stasis cuffs. Still, he'd managed to escape his cell in the Cybertron stockade, which piqued Jazz's curiosity more than he'd have expected.

Blitzwing sat upright the moment Jazz approached. His cage was set up in the common room, the only place they could all keep watch on him, one of the hardest areas to avoid. Somehow, Jazz had managed to do just that. He'd bargained with Ratchet and bribed Bumblebee to escape guard duty, methods that he was using once more for the opposite effect.

Jazz had wanted privacy, and he had it. Suddenly he couldn't remember why it was so important. Blitzwing came up to the bars to meet him; they weren't energized, and the space between them could almost be considered passable for a medium-frame Autobot like Jazz. Not for a con of Blitzwing's size, even so...

"You could have escaped here, you know," Jazz said. "You escaped Cybertron. You really expect me to believe that some earth alloys kept you in place for almost a week?"

"Perhaps I had hoped my captivity would give us another chance to speak," Blitzwing answered frankly. "I was wrong."

Jazz winced. He felt bad, no denying it. How hard would it have been to talk? Instead he'd avoided Blitzwing like a bad case of rust. He approached the bars, resting his servos on them as if to test their strength. What next? He'd asked Blitzwing that, but now he asked himself. His processor had been going in a lot of...unexpected directions, the past couple of solars.

"I'm sorry," he said, to his disbelief. "Shouldn't have avoided you, that wasn't cool."

The cage wasn't built for Blitzwing to stand properly upright. He could sit or lie down, but if he wanted to stand, he was forced into an ungainly slouch. Despite this, he managed to look perfectly solemn.

"It's all right," said Blitzwing, sounding perfectly reasonable. "I should not have expected-"

Jazz kissed him. He didn't stop to think about it, which was probably for the best - it just felt like the right thing to do. Maybe he'd watched a few too many human dramas. Honestly, he didn't care, because it felt good. Blitzwing froze against him, too startled to make a sound.

After a klik, he pulled away, only to see Blitzwing staring at him as though he were the crazy one.

"Local custom," Jazz explained, with a quick grin. He'd never seen anyone look so openly, desperately stunned in all his life. It was a vulnerable thing, and like his smile, it made Blitzwing look good. It took him almost a full cycle, but finally Blitzwing shook it off, his face unreadable once more. Jazz felt somewhat disappointed to see the look fade.

"Autobot, you do realize I will only escape again," said Blitzwing, after a while. "After that, it is very likely I will return here."

Jazz regarded him quietly, feeling distinctly unafraid of the prospect.

"Be seeing you soon, then?" he laughed.

"Oh, yes," said Blitzwing, and he smiled. "Very soon."