I smile as I watch him playing in the first snow. Oh, we've seen snow before, on more planets than the organics here have identified, but this is the first for this planet and in Jazz's processor, that makes it special. Hence why I am out here, as my coolant lines slow in the cold and my joints are locking up, as I watch Jazz dance.

The snow is soft underfoot, a thick covering for the dominant species, but barely a dusting on the surface for us. Each whirl kicks the powder up to drift lazily back down as Jazz laughs, the sound carefree and wild as he moves to his own music. War is long forgotten as he simply enjoys the moment, joy and freedom expressed in his own way as he dips and spins.

"C'mon Prowler, it's fun."

I don't dignify that with an answer, not that I need to, Jazz has already moved away, he knows that I will be content to watch.

I shake soft flakes away from my helm as they start to drift down from above, swirling between us as he raises a hand to catch them, an ethereal mist rising as they touch down on his warm frame. He dances away, his silvery form indistinct amongst the falling snow, his colour scheme allowing him to blend in like a wraith as he chases the fluttering flakes.

Such a simple thing, the freezing of airborne water particles and their subsequent return to the ground, yet it never ceases to amaze Jazz. Every planet we pass, he dances in the first snow fall we encounter.

I remember a slow waltz across a pristine white surface, backlit like a stage in full concert by the light from twin stars streaming through the thick gases of a nebula, painting everything with a green shimmer; that was the first time I had seen him dance. At the time I thought he was not aware of my presence, I know better now, he knew I was there, he was dancing for me. Letting the emerald light flicker and dance across his chassis, tantalising. That was the first time I truly saw him. Not as an officer, or a soldier, or the mask of helpful, friendly mech that he wears around the lower ranks.

No, that was the first time I saw the true Jazz, the side he hides. The same side that I hide, all the inadequacies, all the pain and helplessness that war brings. It intrigued me, for I had never thought that he was struck by the same melancholy that at times took me. He merely hid it better. His easy going nature hiding his true feelings and I found myself wanting to know the real Jazz, but I was Prowl, cold sparked tactical officer without a drop of warmth in my frame if the rumours where anything to go by, and I did not have the courage to approach him.

And so it continued, he would dance and I would watch, until one time when he danced his way through the softly swirling snowflakes to my hideout and offered his hand. We found out many things as we danced and talked, including the fact that it is safer for both of us if I do not join in.

The next time he dragged me outside I smiled as he offered his hand and didn't take offence at his faintly relieved look when I declined, saying that I would be content to watch; obviously he was remembering his scratched and dented feet after my last attempt.

I remember the laughter and movement in a heavy storm on an icy world where the elaborate flips were as much an expression of freedom as they were to keep the snow from settling on the two frames whirling around. Mirage had joined us, blending seamlessly with Jazz as they celebrated a successful mission. A far more intricate dance than I could ever hope to achieve, every movement measured, expected as they moved around each other, anticipating positions from long experience training and fighting together.

So well in fact that when I had officially first met the newly promoted head of special operations and his second I had thought they were bonded. That is until Jazz reached out his hand and announced that he would like to court me. It had taken many vorns before he had confessed that it had been Mirage who had finally pushed him into taking that final step and approaching me.

It took even longer before he trusted me enough to tell me why he, a Polyhexian street brat was all but brother bonded to an Iaconian Noble. In a way I have never been so glad that Megatron decided to reduce the Towers to naught but rubble, for it was what pushed a young Decepticon Noble into defecting and freeing an equally young Autobot saboteur from the cellblock of the garrison he had been stationed at.

And I took longer still to show Jazz that Mirage had taken on what would traditionally have been his Creator's position to make sure I don't hurt him, but threats coming from a mech acknowledged as one of the best assassins by both sides of the war, while he was casually cleaning an energon blade did tend to stick in ones processor. I must confess I had been greatly relieved when Jazz had agreed to bond and Mirage had finally stopped watching my every move and gave his approval.

But at times like this, as I watch them dance together, despite our bond, I can't help but feel jealous as they mimic each other, all deadly grace. We will never be able to predict each others moves so well. Jazz is too unpredictable, and I too logical. I shouldn't let that bother me, for together we are a force to be reckoned with, when we are meshing rather than clashing that is. Yet such clashes have become less with every merge of our sparks, Jazz is less likely to anger and charge ahead without a plan, and I am less likely to dismiss the illogical too quickly. But I doubt we will ever merge enough to become one mind, and I envy Mirage that he can predict my partner's processor so well.

I shake my help slightly in dismissal as Jazz falters for a moment as I forget to shield my negative thoughts, a sliver of my feelings invading our link. Mirage clicks in amusement as he throws a quick glance in my direction, knowing I am to blame for his partner's distraction. The love and affection he pushes towards me make me smile as he continues his dance, my return of the feelings making him stumble and glare good-naturedly at my innocent smirk as Mirage outright laughs.

I remember the harsh pace set in a heavy blizzard as we mourn for those who had not made it to this place with us, a chance to rage and fight against the unforgiving wind, to forget for a short time the fear and pain of war. Neither of us realised how long we had been out in the howling winds until Hound and Trailbreaker had come looking for us.

And we had most definitely not realised how far from the temporary base we had moved as we sought to atone for the sins that war bestowed on us. For the lives that were lost due to our orders and our planning.

Without Hound's ability to retrace his own steps, no matter where he is, and Trailbreaker's force-field to clear us a path we may have frozen trying to find our way back. A harsh reminder that we should not focus everything on the war and forget that there are still some things more dangerous, neither of us wanted to spend eons in deep stasis as our sparks slow to a barely present pulse and the sense of cold seeps even into processors that are barely running.

I remember a time on a calm world, rare indeed that there was not a freezing wind locking up our joints and the very fluid in our lines within moments of stepping outside as we went about our ritual, when Jazz had for once turned off his extra sensors, letting go of all the systems that he usually kept running, allowing him to simply revel in the peace.

I hadn't the spark to warn him that my sensor suite wasn't dulled down and that Sideswipe was on the approach. The wounded look he had shot my way at my betrayal, once he had wiped snow away from his visor had been well worth it, before he took off after Sideswipe, the two of them tumbling around in the snow like a couple of younglings.

His dance had degenerated into a snowball free for all eventually. Perhaps not what we had intended when we came out, but I hadn't seen him looking so relaxed for a while, and was hesitant to call them in, despite the chill. Not when they were joined by more and more of the crew. I am not so cold sparked that I cannot see that the relaxation would do them good.

Instead I merely watched, smiling softly as the mechs conspired to get their own back on a senior officer without reprimand, Jazz fighting all the way to the snow-bank that they unceremoniously buried him in. My refusal to come to my bonded's aid only making the mechs laugh harder as he fought his way out of the snow, cursing me to the Pit all the way.

And while the emotions he was sending down the link may have all been sweet affection and innocence, his devilish grin said otherwise as I took off, glad that I still had my enforcer alt-mode with its stability mods. It gave me a good head start as it spread my weight across the snow while Jazz was left floundering, his hovercar unable to stay above the soft surface. In the end it took him calling in help from the rest of his ops unit to bring me down, his mechs laughing as he made up an impromptu victory dance around my prone form.

Hoist was not so pleased by the amount of mechs pestering him about squeaky joints, but the crew was in better spirits than they had been for a long time.

I remember the times when we were not alone for the first snowfall. The dance being far more deadly than normal and I am no longer a mere observer, but a choreographer. Mechs move to my will in a performance they have trained for, but for which there has been no rehearsal, and my directions must be correct first time.

And through our bond I can feel Jazz, the thrill of the dance as he leaps and twirls around the deadly plasma blasts, weaving his way across the stage to bring the performance to its finale.

I am perhaps in those moments more likely to bear his codename, Meister than he is, as I feel myself grin, the rush of battle settling in my spark as I direct our troops, and only at this time are we one, as he dances not to his music, but to my tune.

"Red Alert said you were out here alone again." I startle at Optimus' voice so close beside me, I hadn't heard him approach, lost in my musings and the shimmering of white and silver cavorting around. I frown as Jazz dances over to us; I hadn't thought the snow was thick enough to hide him from Red's gaze.

"I'm not alone, I'm with Jazz." I almost ask Optimus about the sadness that flashes across his exposed faceplates, but Jazz is already dancing through the doors and I follow as he laughs, his joy contagious.