Written for the the LJ prowlxjazz Community September Anniversary Challenge.
Day 18
Prompt: Guardian
He hadn't meant for it to be this way. To be so close yet so far from the mech he loved. He had been hired and given an assignment he would have to follow for the rest of his life, until he deactivated and if it were possible, beyond death.
Prowl.
He had to protect Prowl at any cost.
Before the war, Prowl had been born into one of the many noble families of Praxus. A family that was sought out by assassins and the like, and thus, every member of the family had a guardian.
Prowl, got Jazz.
But there was a catch. None of the younglings knew their protectors. They didn't even know they had one. So they all went on in life as if they weren't being watched, as if every friend they made wasn't investigated, as if every action they did was not reported back to their creators, as if the reason they were still online wasn't because the threats to their lives were eliminated without mercy, as if they were never followed.
Then, the war struck. Many abandoned their mission. Those that did not stuck with their charge no matter what side they chose, even if it went against everything they believed in.
Jazz had been one of those and was thankful and proud that Prowl had chosen the right path. But at the same time, it was frustrating, to see the mech you had cared for from his birth go into a military academy, to see the gentle and quite youngling turn into a serious and withdrawn adult who knew a number of ways to kill an opponent, to see that same mech become one of the most valuable mechs in the whole Autobot army.
With every promotion, the danger to his life increased, yet Jazz could not even meet Prowl. He had to stay hidden from view as he protected him and did his duties at the same time. As Prowl climbed through the ranks, he was forced to do the same, or he would never see the youngling again and wouldn't be able to protect him.
Yet every promotion they both took drew them closer to each other, and Jazz knew that it wouldn't be long before he had to face the inevitable. Soon, they both reached the position of SIC and TIC of the Autobots. Their first official meeting is one Jazz will treasure to the end of his life. The way they touched servos as they greeted sent electricity running through his circuits. For once that elegant and soft voice was aimed at him! Those optics still so full of innocence and emotion bore into his, and Jazz found that he could not look away.
It was all Jazz had wished for. By merely watching the tactician grow, he knew every secret, every emotion, every fear he had. And he had come to love Prowl. Now that they had to work together, his love increased. For the first time in his existence Jazz was able to talk to him!
And since Praxus had fallen, oh and how it had hurt him not to be able to comfort the tactician when he silently wept and grieved in his quarters, away from the army that called him emotionless and sparkless, and no noble Praxians were left, Jazz was free to become close to his charge. But he was still bound by duty and oath.
His priority was to protect Prowl from any and all harm. So even if he cherished this turn of events, he hated it with a passion. For he loved Prowl and could never tell him that, because he could not bond to anyone. The guardian project had taken that choice from them all. Their sparks had been mutilated, scarred so as to keep the guardians from bonding to anyone and keep them focused on their task.
So he bit his glossa when ever a mech would flirt with his charge. He went to the shooting range and shot every drone when a mech entered Prowl's quarters and didn't leave until the next joor. His spark ached when Prowl smiled, because it was not directed at him.
As the war continued, all Jazz could do was watch in sadness as Prowl lived his life as if he didn't exist, as if he wasn't loved, as if he wasn't wanted, as if he wasn't breaking someone's spark.
