Prowl had never expected for the war to be over.

For the autobots to win, for him to be declared a national hero, for cybertron to be recolonized and… to finally be able to retire.

He had always wanted to retire. Being head tacitician was stressful with lives on the line, decisions to be made, pawns to be set. But now, he was being rewarded for his hard work and the validation was nice. He was given an estate once owned by a Towers mech, enough credits to never work again, and a comfortable life style.

It was nice, retirement. And he promised he would live the life he always wanted.

Everyday he would wake up at five, water his crystals, walk through the market for an hour, type up his autobiography for four, read the news for two hours, watch TV for one hour, then recharge.

He was loved, he was rich, but it didn't explain why he woke up in a hospital bed.

His optics were groggy and the room was sterile white. For a second he thought he was in Ratchet's medbay, but that was impossible. Ratchet was on Earth helping the humans. Machines beeped, machines, Prowl realized, that were hooked up to him. Prowl warily followed one long, grey tube and saw a needle connected to his medical interface. He lifted a servo ready to inspect it when—

"Don't."

Prowl weakly turned his head to the source and to his surprise saw a tired Jazz.

He was sitting in a rickety chair next to him, hands clasped in his lap and optics looking at him, concerned. They flared weakly as if he had been up for a while and the energon stains on his face plate made it appear like he had been crying making Prowl 99% sure this was a dream as Jazz never cried.

"Don't," Jazz repeated softly as if Prowl would blow away. Prowl felt a warm servo rest on his hand, (it felt so real) and he looked down.

"What happened?" he whispered, his voice numb, (it must've been the drugs) barely cognizant of the white servo. "Where am I—"

But before the words could leave his mouth, Jazz hugged him. Arms wrapped around Prowl engulfing him with his presence and field and for a minute Jazz held him like that, tightly, as if he was afraid he would disappear as the machines beeped, their breaths mingled, and Prowl sat too stunned and too weak to hug back.

"I thought I lost you," whispered Jazz into his audial, his voice muffled against his armor.

"But I'm right here," Prowl monotoned looking at the perfect tile wall, partially covered by jazz's shoulder, dread sinking in.

Jazz let him go and he slunk down into the berth feeling so weak and fragile in his bed.

"I came," Jazz stated. Prowl didn't respond but stared at the perfectly white tiles, all neat and orderly. He knew where this was heading and dread crept into him. "You called me, Prowl. Last night. You told me you wanted to end it and I came." Jazz sat heavily in his chair, the chair groaning when he did. "I'd always come," he whispered, as if to himself, low enough that Prowl struggled to here it.

Prowl stared ahead, Jazz's painful words cutting through his spark.

"I'm sorry," he said. He looked at Jazz, who leaned in his chair, his hands in his face. "I never meant to hurt you."

Jazz paused, his face hardening for a second, before he looked up at him. "Prowl." he replied, softly, grabbing the tactician's hand. "You're the bravest mech I met. But you never have to apologize for me."

Jazz looked like he was about to say something, before he caught Prowl's gaze, his shoulders dropping and he stared at his hands for a second as if he was recollecting his thoughts. "I just… why Prowl?" He put his other hand on Prowl's and looked into his friend's optics. "There's so much out there Prowl that you haven't seen, experienced, like, like, the new Marvel movies, Wonder Woman, and that Hamilton play all the humans are raving about—"

"I'm sorry," Prowl muttered, feeling weak.

Prowl leaned back in his bed, covering his face, and Jazz sat next to him, silently. "Why didn't you tell me," Jazz finally whispered, voice cracking. He sounded hurt and Prowl looked down ashamed. "You're my best friend…and I'd've been there, even if you just wanted to buy groceries."

Jazz leaned down on the bed, deftly avoiding the wires, and head resting on Prowl's neck as the two stared at the white wall in silence. Their hands were interlocked together and the machines beeps faded in the background. They sat there, side by side, watching the white panels, until Jazz hesitantly snuggled into him, face pressed into the crook of Prowl's neck. Prowl stiffened, but did nothing.

"I know you feel sad and If you wanna talk about it," Jazz breathed, his warm breath brushing Prowl's plating. "Then I'm here to listen. And if you don't then there's no pressure. We can talk about anything you want like those embarrassing autobot stories. Or nothing at all."

Prowl's eyes crinkled for a second but after that, Prowl did nothing and for five minutes they sat there, staring at the wall in silence and taking comfort in each other.

As if… they were just relaxing…as if nothing had happened…

"It…" finally whispered Prowl, surprising himself with his voice. Jazz perked up, but held his position, only hugging him tighter, and Prowl after wetting his lips continued. "It's so hard to be happy, Jazz." He looked at their clasped hands. "I see people wake up every morning excited for the future and I really can't. I just don't know how they do it, Jazz and I feel like something's wrong with me."

"I have everything, Jazz." His voice was laced with venom and Prowl leaned his head against the bed. "But it's like I have a hole in me where all the happiness drains out. When I won those awards and retired I felt happy, but it was only for a moment, before I felt…nothing. I always feel nothing Jazz."

Jazz stared at the bed and fiddled with the white bed sheet, pulling on a loose thread.

"I'm not always happy, Prowl." Jazz finally confessed. Prowl looked up and saw Jazz biting his lip. "No one is… In fact, I probably understand you more than you'd think." Jazz stared at him, before he got up so that he could sit across from Prowl. "Happiness," he looked at the bed sheets before he looked up. "Happiness isn't some pursuit, some goal… it's relative."

Jazz pointed to the door. "There are millions of cybertronians and humans out there suffering from depression. You're not alone, Prowl, because finding happiness is tough."

Prowl looked down, but Jazz grabbed his hands and looked at him. "You don't reach a goal and be happy, Prowl, you gotta find it in yourself."

His face hardened and Jazz sighed, muttering something as if he was having trouble figuring it out. After a moment, his visor flickered and he wet his lips. "Ya know Prowl, it's hard feeling content, but you gotta try doing that everyday. By yourself, by getting help, asking friends, smiling. And once that happens…it gets easier, I swear, but the hard part is doing it everyday so that it does become easier."

He pointed to the ceiling, visor flashing. "And yes, you'll have set backs, but even if it's getting out of bed every morning or smiling, than that's a victory in itself—"

"But what more can I do?" Prowl hissed. He stared at the walls, letting go of Jazz's hands, face turning into anger. "I saved the autobots, I'm a hero—"

"Prowl," interrupted Jazz, causing Prowl to stare at him. This was the first time Jazz spoke to him authoritatively. Jazz pointed to his autobot insignia and brushed his hand against Prowl's. "When we all became autobots we always came in with this mentality of saving the world. It's why we joined Optimus. But you know what, Prowl? It's OK if you don't save the world. In fact, it's OK if the only person you save is yourself. You don't owe the universe anything, Prowl, because the universe won't give you anything in return."

Jazz grasped his hands and hugged him. "It's tough, I know, but it's OK to be selfish and do things that make you happy. You are your best friend, Prowl and you are the most important being."

Jazz hugged him and Prowl hesitantly hugged back. "I respect you Prowl, no matter what you decide. You know it. And I know you feel like your drowning, but you've come so far, Prowl. You may not think it, but you're the strongest mech I know."

Jazz voice cracked and he ducked his head. "And I… please give life a second chance." Jazz wiped some fluid off his visor. "I don't want you to think I'm selfish… but you mean so much to me and—"

"Jazz."

The spy looked up, tears staining his face. His optics widened when he saw a wan smile on Prowl's mouth. Patting the side of the pillow, Prowl grabbed the remote and forced Jazz to lean into the pillow. Jazz curled into him and Prowl smiled.

"I'd really like to see that Wonder Woman movie you were talking about."

I tried with this one. I don't know. Tell me what you think...if you guys want to : P