Note: This slammed into my brain as I was attempting to write chapter 6 of my other story, Memoire. I'm afraid I cannot keep my promise of updating that one as often.

I love reviews…please leave one.

Chapter 01: Self-Doubting

Jazz stared at his reflection, disappointment in his blue optics, a frown on his face. "It's me, isn't it?" he whispered in the dark, asking the image of himself. "It can't be Prowl…there ain't a thing wrong with him. It has to be me…" He sighed, turning away from the mirror, hating himself. He wanted to have a Sparkling. He knew Prowl did, too. But…they'd never been able to make one, no matter how often they tried. Jazz had come to the conclusion that there must be something wrong with himself. He was the reason they were unable to have a Sparkling. And he hated himself for it.

It's because of me he thought, sinking to the floor. It's my fault. The hateful part of him wouldn't stop talking. The part that was always in doubt, the part that he hid from everyone, even Prowl. Sometimes…he managed to forget it was even there. But on nights when Jazz was alone, when he stared at his reflection for long minutes, that little voice came back, shedding light on everything that was wrong with him.

He hated it! Jazz wished that this little voice with claws would fall silent, and never speak up again. A foolish wish, since the voice couldn't be silenced until Jazz himself died. The voice was as much a part of him as logic was a part of Prowl.

It has to be my fault… he thought bitterly, That's the only reason nothing's worked. He fell asleep with that last thought chasing its tail through his mind.

…

Prowl found him curled up on the floor the following morning. He picked up the Saboteur, carrying him over to the berth and setting him on it."It's not you, Jazz." He whispered, leaning down to set a gentle kiss on Jazz's forehead, "I know it's not you." It was safe for Prowl to say these words, as the other was so deep in recharge, he wouldn't have heard an explosion from Wheeljack's lab! "Don't blame yourself. It isn't you." He knew what dark thoughts ran through Jazz's mind when the other was alone. They were the same dark thoughts that everyone had. The thoughts that bit and stung, the ones that led to self-doubt, self-hate. Even Prowl had those thoughts. There was no way to stop them, either.

"I love you, Jazz." Prowl whispered.

…

At Nemesis:

Red optics half-closed as the mech thought of someone in particular. Quickstep leaned back in his chair, stretching after several hours of work, and thought of the Autobot Jazz. He'd had his optic on the Saboteur for quite some time now, and he wanted him! He'd get the pretty Porche, somehow. He would not fail. Failure was for weaker bots, stupider bots. Quickstep was neither weak nor stupid. He prided himself on being fast, cunning and strong. His main fault was that he was vain. Vain enough to rival Starscream's tendencies!

"I'll have him soon enough." He said softly to himself. "I'll make him mine." The Decepticon knew how he'd get Jazz, too. Things were often hectic in a fight…and missing bots weren't noticed in the worst of the chaos. He smirked as the idea took on form in his dark mind. "Convincing someone to start an attack will be easy… Making sure he is there…Oh, he'll be there."

Plan set, he stood, and headed out of his quarters.

"Yo, Quickstep! Where ya goin'?"

Quickstep looked down at Rumble, and his plan suddenly swerved. "Rumble. My small friend!" he greeted, "How would you like to 'shake things up?'"