Lost
xxx
A multitude of warm, metallic bodies surrounded him, cradling him close. Jazz smiled, and his spark gave a happy little pulse.
"You're back," he murmured.
The Morphobots answered with a deep, resonant purr. Several of their stronger tentacles coiled around his frame, wrapping him in a tight embrace, while a number of smaller, more nimble tendrils began to ghost all over his plating. The vinelets found his access ports with astounding accuracy, sliding in and connecting with ease, and it felt to Jazz as if some misaligned part had slotted back into place.
"Missed you," he whispered as their systems synchronized and charge began to flow. The Morphobots trilled happily, and Jazz' spark reacted to the sounds, pulsed and swelled with unbridled affection.
The tentacles holding him tightened their grasp, and he welcomed the firm touch, arching into it as their minds began to bleed together. Again the Morphobots chirred, love/happy/closer pulsing through the connection time and time again.
Jazz complied with a sound that was half laugh, half sob. He opened himself up in ways a Spec Ops officer never should, until not a single firewall remained, and instead of scaring the wits out of him, it felt right on a level so fundamental he lacked the glyphs for it.
"Missed you so much," he gasped out, clasping the nearest vines in a sudden, sharp fear that they might disappear again. His core coding throbbed violently, hold/keep/protect, and he felt his spark jitter in nameless longing.
The Morphobots snuggled closer, supporting him and rocking them both in a gentle rhythm that was clearly meant to soothe him. Jazz whined softly in response to the algorithms they pulsed at him, all gratefulness and affection, and it was perfect, and yet, somehow, not enough.
Under any other circumstances, he would have considered his chest plates opening without any conscious command a serious malfunction. But it was the natural next step in the current proceedings, and since Jazz' processor was a bit foggy right now, his frame had obviously decided to take it for him. The light and warmth spilling from his chassis provoked an intrigued chirr from the Morphobots, and a wordless question trickled into Jazz' mind. He smiled, answering with a blatant invitation and a whispered "Yes…"
There was supposed to be pain. Having something that wasn't another spark invade his life essence should hurt like the living Pit, but the first tendril slipped in, and instead of sending him into screaming agony, the sensation was soft and warm, and it began to strengthen and to fill the hollow ache that had been gnawing at him ever since the Morphobots had left. More vinelets proceeded to penetrate him with a gentleness that made him shudder, and Jazz laughed, vocalizer spitting static, as he wrapped his arms around as many tentacles as he could, hugging them close. His perception began to blur as he gradually lost track of who was who, or who was melting into whom. It didn't really matter anyway. His sweetsparks were with him again, and that was all he needed to know.
xxx
He came out of recharge with a groan, roused by his own internal alarm. His spark was still spinning with excitement, but already his merciless processor forced him away from the recharge flux and towards reality: to the cool mesh padding of the berth beneath him, the sickly green light of the emergency lamp above him, the blinking glyphs on his HUD reminding him that his shift was about to begin.
Jazz rolled onto his side, offlining his visor again and stubbornly refusing to acknowledge the emptiness of his quarters. His frame felt heavy, still singing with the aftershocks of the intense sensations the sensor echo had provoked. There was also a mild charge in his lines, not of the interfacing kind, but just enough to provide a healthy dose of energy, were it to be drained from him and transferred into another system…
Hot, desperate anger clawed at him, a helpless defiance that screamed, fought, and kicked like a living thing, but he honestly couldn't say if he willed the echos to go away or if he was trying to hold on to them.
He buried his faceplates in the padding, giving the raging cataclysm of emotions time to settle. He had learned by now that it never lasted long. Within a handful of kliks it would fade, and the sensation of Right and Happy in his spark would be replaced again by that aching emptiness he was beginning to get used to. A small sound escaped his vocalizer, but it was lost in the quietness of the room.
His internal alarm pinged him again. Jazz vented slowly, once, twice, then he onlined his visor and got up, forcing his field frequencies open and checking his grin in the mirror before he left his quarters to meet another solar cycle.
*Fin*
Disclaimer: I do not own The Transformers, and I do not make any money with this.