Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers
Faith is the bird that the feels the light when the dawn is still dark.
Part 2
When Prowl entered his quarters, he found a pacing Jazz.
"Was that truly necessary?" The Praxian couldn't help but ask. He was feeling just as bad as Jazz, but he wasn't running around throwing a tantrum.
"What was?" Jazz asked, completely oblivious. Prowl was not fooled. In three fast steps he was right next to Jazz and grabbed his wrist, forcing him to stop pacing. Deciding to take a slightly more different approach, he ignored his temper and gently stated, as if speaking to a spooked turbo-cat,
"Calm. Down."
"Stop it." Jazz pulled his hand away, "Stop treatin' me like I'm a fucking fledglin', made from glass."
"Then stop acting like it." Prowl's wings rouse high on his back.
Jazz bristled, "Me? I at least try to speak to ya about it, but ya don't listen. You never listen!" He started pacing again, circling the Praxian. "You never even bring up the subject! I try, truly try, to connect with ya other then sharing sparks, but ya never hear me."
Prowl crossed his arms, "What higher form of sharing is there?"
"It's not 'bout sharing emotions 'nd pain, Prowl. Trust me, I know exactly how you feel, I do." He stopped right in front of Prowl, "But sayin' it out loud is entirely different."
Prowl felt his fists clench, "There is no point to it. It proves nothing, changes nothing. Why poke the wound?"
"Because I want, when we bring this subject back in the future… I don't want it to cripple us. You, we, still haven't come to terms with it." Jazz growled.
"Oh?" Prowl narrowed his optics, "I'm not the one bringing dying wildlife into the Arc and growling at CMO's."
"That's completely beside the point."
"That is the point!" Prowl advanced on Jazz, "Why did you do it?! You know the bird will die, and soon. And that will make you feel even more horrible then you already do. You should have just left it there." Hasn't Prowl seen enough? He'd witnessed so much pain behind that visor, pain he had felt in their sparks. Was it too much that he didn't wish Jazz so suffer anymore?
"To die alone?" Jazz hissed, voice cold. Prowl was taken by surprise at the statement. "Like ours did?"
Prowl's stupor was short lived as Jazz felt the bond shut tight. In his most neutral voice, once reserved for the politicians back on Cybertron, he answered.
"We are not having this fight." Prowl walked passed Jazz, towards the door, "Not again."
"Yeah," Jazz glared at his back, "Because it's so much easier to run away from it."
The only answer the saboteur got was the door closing.
He stared at it for a couple of more minutes before he sat on the berth, rubbing his temples. Primus, his head, his spark – everything hurt.
He loved Prowl more then anything, more then the world itself. If he asked him to rip his spark out, Jazz would do it with no second thoughts. The Praxian was brilliant, in more ways then one.
But when it came down to this, logic was not the answer. Not for Jazz. He needed Prowl, he needed to know he is there for him and most of all, he needed to know that Jazz is there for him as well.
The bond was currently closed on Prowl's side, so the visored mech had no way of tracking him without the use of Telatraan, not that he needed to. Jazz knew Prowl like no other mech ever did. The tactician was probably blowing off his steam the only way he knew how – working.
Jazz didn't blame him, he never wanted nor held any grudge against him. Things like this always happened during war and they've come to terms with it. Mostly. In a cruel way, this tragedy seemed to have brought them even closer, not to mention stronger. But sometimes, especially now, the scar was just too deep, too big for them to ignore.
Jazz tiredly stood up from the berth and went to the storage compartment on the opposite wall, where he pulled out a couple of concentrated energon cubes. He would need them. Both of them would.
The soft whine his engine gave got swallowed by the silence in the room.
It was a lot later when Prowl returned. His posture was slumped, with wings drooping low when the door closed completely. His dimply lit optics searched the room, finding its one occupant sitting on the ground, leaning on their berth.
Jazz was just starting his third cube of high grade as Prowl approached. Without exchanging words or glances, Prowl sat next to him, his plating lightly brushing Jazz's.
The saboteur gave back a brush of his own, the fight between them long forgiven and forgotten. This was a fight they've had too many times to count.
During their time here on Earth, they've seen their fair share of couples who've lost an offspring. Most of them didn't last long. But for them, separation was not an option, nor was it desired. It's true that sometimes it hurt, but the love they shared, the mutual understanding of the others pain was more than enough to keep them together. The undying flame of love between them, still shone brightly with no signs of ever extinguishing.
The rain from outside was showing no signs of stopping anytime soon, and the water drops hitting the metal of the Arc was the only sound in the quiet room. And it was deafening.
As Jazz sipped his energon, Prowl's hand was idly drawing lazy circles on Jazz's knee joint. Not a word was said between them, both lost in their own little world.
"How…"Jazz swallowed the burning fuel, "How many times are we going to have this fight?"
Prowl made no indication that he even heard him, tough, Jazz felt the block on Prowl's side of the bond starting to waver.
"It's," Prowl paused, searching for the right words, "It's hard to love you, you know?"
"Ain't that the truth." Jazz chuckled bitterly, "Still," He looked directly at Prowl, "Do ya ever regret…us?" The lazy circles haltered for a moment.
"Never." And even thought the word was whispered, barely heard above the falling raindrops, it held the conviction Jazz needed. "You know I love you more then life itself."
Jazz gave a wavering smile. Prowl always did know what to say to sooth his wounds. "I love you even more."
Still, they were dancing around the subject, Jazz thought as he took another sip of high grade, enjoying the feather-like ministrations. He knew how much Prowl was hurting. He even knew that the Praxian blamed himself for this. And nothing ever Jazz said changed Prowl's mind on that matter. And Pit, did Jazz try.
It was so much easier to ignore this. But the saboteur knew that if someday in the future they were to have another creation, they had to acknowledge the one they lost. No matter how much it hurt.
Jazz lightly hummed when Prowl's fingers brushed exposed circuitry in the relaxed joint. The tactician's wandering mind slowly started to focus more on what his hand was doing, finding more wires to tweak at.
Jazz's vents slightly hitched, and he gave a soft gasp, systems already running slightly hot from the high grade. He gently intertwined his fingers with Prowl's, promptly stopping his pleasant ministrations, and brought it to his lips, lightly kissing it.
Prowl slightly turned to face Jazz, his other hand going to gently caress a cheek. The Praxian could see the optics behind the visor looking down, a sadness that could never stay hidden from Prowl surrounding them. He tilted Jazz face up and slowly kissed him.
Both lingered like that for a while, as hands slowly started to explore the others body, seeping in between seems, teasing the wires there. The kiss broke when Prowl gasped as Jazz brushed a sensor panel. They shifted so that a dazed Jazz was lying on the ground, with Prowl over him.
It was only when Jazz felt the weigh on top of him that his slightly sluggish mind started to work again.
"Prowl." He whispered as the tactician kissed his neck. "Prowl, wait –" Another set of lips crushed over his. He felt expert hands travel down his front bumper, over his abdominal plates, going lower, in a dance Jazz was all too familiar with.
"No, just listen to me for a sec, Prowl." By now, Jazz would have been lost in passion, but this was different.
Willing his arms to work, Jazz grasped Prowl hands away from his hips, forcing the tactician to lock optics clouded by lust and something else, with his.
"Stop it." Jazz said as he felt the charge leave him. Prowl was about to kiss him again when Jazz released his hands placed them on the Praxian's bumper, blocking him.
"You can't," Jazz whispered, and his voice was lower than the sound of the falling rain, "You can't frag the pain away, Prowl."
Prowl's mind woke up from the lust induced haze at that, and glared at Jazz. With a grunt, he was off of him.
"Stop hiding, lover." There was no anger in Jazz's voice, only sadness.
"I am not hiding." Came the sharp reply.
Every single anniversary of the tragedy they indulged in passion, hoping the pleasure will chase away the pain. And it worked, still does. But it was not a cure and it never will be.
"Oh, I find that hard to believe." Jazz looked away, "This pain, no matter how hard we try, and by Primus do we try hard, we can't simply frag it away. It doesn't work like that."
Jazz's only response was the quiet swoosh of the automatic door. Again.
"Run little rabbit, run."
TBC
