Won't you come out
I've been waiting for you
Holding my breath
'Til my body turned blue
We've got everything to lose
Yeah I'm waiting on you
Sun's come up
And there's no one else around
Meet me in the shadows
Won't you tell me what you found
You've got everything to lose
Yeah I'm waiting on you
Say you have a little faith in me
Just close your eyes and let me lead
Follow me home
Need to have a little trust in me
Just close your eyes and let me lead
Follow me home
To where the lonely ones roam
To where the lonely ones roam
Roam with me
Come down to where all of the others fell
Get lost in the dark to find yourself
Just remember what I said
No it isn't over yet
Say you have a little faith in me
Just close your eyes and let me lead
Follow me home
Need to have a little trust in me
Just close your eyes and let me lead
Follow me home
To where the lonely ones roam
~Where the Lonely Ones Roam, Digital Daggers
He stood outside the door, trembling. A shaking hand poised just above the smooth metal. Loud in the quiet hall, his intakes were arrhythmic. Pain lanced his spark. Tremors racked his frame again and his knuckles made contact with the metal.
He wondered if this would be the night the door didn't open. If tonight he would be left for his demons like bloated carrion, a putrid offering. Jaw clenched so tight his teeth ached he couldn't relax. Nightmare sounds whispered through the dark hallway. The quiet rush of air from vents made his armor plates raise. The air was cooler in the night cycle, the astringent smell of cleaner made his tanks churn. Shockwave was so fastidious. He always cleaned his tools, the table. A small figurine of polished blue-grey stone gripped in his hand hard enough to dent his fingers was the only anchor he had. Nightmares crowded at the back of his mind, filling the shadows along the walls, caressing his plating with frigid fingers. He squeezed his hand tighter feeling every contour of the slim rock. Gritting his teeth, trying to keep his intakes even, trying to keep tank-purging fear at bay he stared at the door. The rock wasn't enough to keep the nightmares away, that's why he was here.
The door slid open only a breem later. Even with the late hour of the night it was impossible to tell if Prowl had been recharging or still awake. His wings with their elegant arches over his shoulders were held high. Sapphire blue optics flicked over Jazz's haggard face and he stepped back. He hesitated, relief so poignant he threatened to collapse. Prowl came forward again and a warm hand slid around to his back. Gentle pressure urging him forward. His other hand took Jazz's closed fist and rubbed along the knuckles until the crushing grip he had on the rock no longer made his palm ache.
Prowl's room was a few degrees cooler than the halls. Jazz shivered. The cold didn't last. Prowl's warm hands coaxed him down on his berth. Wings, warmer and softer than any blanket wrapped around him. Arms, solid and strong, held him close to Prowl's familiar body. His jaw began to relax, his intakes found a rhythm with Prowl's. Trembling arms wrapped around Prowl's solid frame. His rock, held loosely in his hand, blended seamlessly with the firm lines of Prowl's body. He didn't fall into recharge. It would be awhile before the demons left him long enough for that to happen. Tilting his head he pressed his face against Prowl's neck feeling the steady pulse of energon. Prowl's fingers stroked over his spinal strut, careful of the fresh welds and patches.
His lips parted, words he wanted to say lodged in his throat. Would Prowl see him as weak? Prowl needed him. Needed him to be strong because he was the best and there was no one else. He couldn't be weak. He couldn't break. In the quiet dark, warm and safe, demons scratched at his mind. He would go out again. When the welds were healed. And Shockwave would be waiting. Tremors shook his body. Weak, like dry leaves in the wind. Prowl's body stayed still and warm against him like bedrock.
Prowl's head tilted, his chin brushing Jazz's cheek. A notification pinged softly in his messages. A schedule update. Prowl's shift hours had moved back to evening instead of his usual early morning. Shuttering his optics Jazz tightened his arms around Prowl. Fluid pooled in his optics. His shaking worsened. Intakes beginning to seize again. His welds hurt. His spark hurt. A low keening sound pierced the darkness.
He broke apart at the seams.
He broke apart at the welds.
He broke apart at the scars that always ached.
His teeth stayed clamped together as more sounds escaped him. Broken sounds, pleas he could never voice. Because he was the best. Because there was no one else. He couldn't break. He had to be strong. Prowl held him closer, arms and wings tight around him. Holding him. Holding him together. Prowl wouldn't let him break. Like bedrock, he was there to hold him, to keep him from sinking further.
Gentle fingers brushed across his face, wiping away the fluid that leaked out. "I'm sorry," Prowl whispered.
He woke warm and, for the first time in kels, certain he was safe. No more safe houses, no more looking over his shoulder. At least for the moment. For this moment he was utterly safe. Breathing in Prowl's familiar scent he allowed himself to drift off again. Prowl would keep him safe for as long as he could.
It wasn't until after midday that he woke again. He knew by the sound of Prowl's spark pulse that he was awake. Lifting his head from Prowl's neck he started the painful process of uncurling his body. Prowl's arms shifted as needed, but he didn't let go. His wings stayed secure around him. Gentle hands soothed his new wounds and old scars. A quiet notification chimed in his HUD. A rough laugh escaped him, muffled against Prowl's neck. His debriefing with Prowl was scheduled in half a joor.
"You need to eat," Prowl murmured. The words were almost lost as Jazz sank into the comfort of his arms once more. But his tanks heard and seemed to realize for the first time in orns that they were empty. Groaning he tried to fall back into recharge but his systems were demanding. "You won't be as sore when you've eaten," Prowl said practically. Jazz offlined his optics but the SIC was right. He was running his systems on their absolute minimum and his entire body was feeling the effects.
Prowl didn't move until Jazz lifted his head and sighed. He had never resisted Prowl's gentle prodding before and he saw no reason to now. Ratchet had tried to cram a portion down him before he left the med bay the orn before but the thought of food had almost made him dry heave. His tanks were keen on the idea now and while he wasn't looking forward to the bright lights of the halls, the dispensary would offer a nice distraction. "Coming?" he asked hoarsely. When was the last time he'd spoken; probably when he'd given out his coordinates for extraction. That one word made his vocalizer ache.
Prowl's wings swept up to their normal arch. "If you would like," his voice a smooth alto, nuanced only if you listened closely. Prowl had never been monotone to him. Blaster was fond of comparing his quiet voice to Soundwave's computer rendered vocalizations. It irritated him to no end, but Prowl always dismissed the crude comments and there was no reason for Jazz to fight that particular battle for him. From a berthside table, Prowl picked up a small figurine carved from rock so black it didn't reflect the light and rubbed his thumb over it once. "First shift will be starting soon, the dispensary should be peaceful." He set the figurine down with enough care the vibration didn't register to Jazz's over sensitized sensor net. Jazz turned his hand over and stared at the figurine in his own hand. Slipping it into its compartment above his hip he rallied enough strength to stand.
Prowl led him out of the room into the strident light of the halls. The ambient noise was louder, sounds from the primary corridors trickling down to the officers' quarters. Voices raised in conversation, laughter, sounds of life. Dialing his sensor net down to its lowest setting he followed Prowl to the chaos.
Moving, he was now acutely aware of every ache and pain in his frame. The lack of food for however many orns slowed the healing process and added its own discomfort. He should've eaten when Ratchet told him to. Lights seared his optics, familiar noise thundered in his audios, and his sensor net vibrated with too much input. Groaning softly he kept his head down hoping he wouldn't be stopped as he walked behind the SIC.
"Jazz-man!" Blaster's loud voice made him flinch. If he touched him, he would collapse. He could not handle the rough physical contact Blaster employed. Shockwave's torture hardly allowed for Ratchet's knowing gentle touch. Prowl was the only one he voluntarily tolerated, needed. "Hatchet's been crankier than the Unmaker so we figured you were back." The energetic red and gold mech continued chattering as Jazz struggled to reassemble his façade.
"Blaster, you are already ten breems late for your shift," Prowl's voice cut through Blaster's jovial chatter. "You may catch up with Jazz when your duties are taken care of." That cut the noise. Jazz's hyper-sensitive sensor net picked up Blaster bristling. With a dark glower and a dismissive flick that could have been a salute if you dimmed your optics, he stalked away. The rest of the hall, hearing the exchange also quieted as mechs and femmes scurried to get where they were supposed to be.
There were a few mechs in the dispensary, but it was thankfully quieter than the halls. Hound and Trailbreaker sat at a table going over a holographic map with bright optics. The last time he'd talked to them they'd been going through a list of new places for their next period of leave. The small bit of quiet normalcy soothed his processor. Whatever planet they had settled on was mountainous and lush with vegetation. They were going to be absolutely filthy when they returned. They'd probably have to use the frigid wash racks in the hanger before hitting the primary ones lest they clog the pipes will all the mud and rock. Mirage sat in a far corner reading a dat pad, two tables to his left Perceptor sat doing the same thing. Blades and Streetwise sprawled out in their chairs playing a lazy game of cards. At another table along the back wall, Hoist and Grapple sat with First Aid, study materials taking up the entire table as they fielded questions for the young medic. Jazz tried to remember if he was on his second or third accreditation exam.
Prowl handed him a warm cup of energon and he followed the SIC to a quiet table, not as removed as Perceptor and Mirage, but not in the middle of the room. Sipping the warm brew Jazz began to feel a little better. His systems began to warm and power up to normal parameters and his over-taxed sensor net settled a little at a time.
Halfway through his cup he felt like he could embrace his "Jazz-man" identity again. Rubbing a sore spot on his arm he asked Prowl, "Miss anything good?" His vocalizer was still scratchy from lack of use. He hadn't noticed any new patchwork on the walls, but he hadn't been paying attention as he stumbled through the dark halls. The whole of D deck could have been replaced and he probably would have only registered something being vaguely different.
"Wheeljack is convinced with sufficient amounts of cesium and water he can create a more efficient propulsion engine for atmospheric transports," Prowl murmured.
Jazz sipped his energon while he considered that. "And how much exactly is a "sufficient" amount," he asked after a moment.
"Two thousand kilograms."
Jazz stared at the wall while he ruminated on the quantity. "What'd you tell him?" He tried to imagine where they would even store that much cesium. They couldn't just leave it in the hanger, once Sideswipe heard about it no one would be safe.
"Once the ship is decommissioned he can blow it into as many pieces as he pleases, until then, he will have to pursue other means of energy." Prowl finished his cup while Jazz continued to nurse his. Slowly Jazz dropped his head to the table and laughed. The sound was a bit rougher than normal, but the laugh was true. Lifting his head he kept his face covered by his hands while he continued to shake with laughter.
"Two thousand kilos," Jazz said between breaths. Prowl's optics flickered, subtle sign of amusement. "He had to have known you wouldn't authorize it," Jazz started giggling again. "Why would he—two thousand kilos?" He couldn't stop the laughter. It bubbled to the surface seeping out of the small place he'd hidden it. The place where he locked it away when the pain started. He began to reform, morphing from what he had been in Prowl's embrace to Jazz. The hard places relaxed, his shoulders rolled back so he wasn't hunched over the table and a smirk graced his lips once more.
A smile that didn't curve his mouth but brightened his optics softened the lines of Prowl's face. "I need to go to my office," he said softly. "There is an officer's meeting tomorrow at 0900." Jazz leaned back in his chair and looked up at Prowl as he stood. The dispensary already felt cooler without his warm body next to him. His lips parted, words he wanted to say lodged in his throat. Prowl glanced at him, his head tilted a fraction. Jazz closed his lips, the words swallowed once more. Prowl had never asked for an explanation, never demanded words, never tried to reason. He was bedrock. And once you hit bedrock there was nothing left to do but rebuild.
A/N: This will be a slow update, so if you're in for the long haul thank you for reading and reviewing ^_^
