Disclaimer: All recognisable characters, places, etc. belong to HasTak and other copyright holders. I make no profit from this.

Obsessed paced agitatedly, ignoring the jeers and snide comments from those around him. They thought they knew why he was upset, that it was because of the insults they had thrown about his earlier distraction which had caused him to be clipped with laser fire.

They were wrong. His own injuries were nothing, and his distraction had been caused by injury to an Autobot. Not to his precious Symphony, no, but to Prowl.

The stupid slagger had thrown himself between Megatron's high powered fusion cannon blast and his own temporarily downed leader. Optimus would surely not have been killed by that shot, he had survived worse before, so why had the stupid Autobot done such a thing?

It was not that Obsessed cared what happened to Prowl in the end, but if Prowl died now there was a chance that Jazz might too. Bondmates tended to follow each other into death. Assuming they were bonded. And even if they were not, this kind of grief would still throw all his plans into disarray.

Scowling, he stomped away from the busy waiting area outside the Constructicons lab and headed towards his own room. The laser damage to his wing was minimal, and he needed to think.

Jazz looked up anxiously as First Aid walked past, but the Protectobot merely nodded to him gravely and moved on. He slumped in his chair, staring at the still-mangled form on the berth.

Several tense groons of surgery had saved Prowl's spark, but he was still stuck in stasis lock. Ratchet had declared him stable and had moved on to helping with other patients and Jazz could not begrudge him that, and yet the damage seemed so severe.

Prowl's left doorwing and arm had been torn off completely and would have to be re-fabricated. The heat of the blast had melted clumps of sand and dirt to his armour which looked ugly but was basically cosmetic once they managed to fabricate the replacement parts, but it had also torn many of his fluid lines and sensory systems which could easily take groons of painstaking repair.

He knew this. He knew that it was best for Prowl to be unaware at the moment, to not have to suffer through this online. But the silence at the other end of the bond was unnerving. He needed to feel that Prowl was alright, and that would not happen until the stasis lock was broken.

So he sat and waited as patiently as he could, and he watched the medics silently but anxiously in hope they would soon return to finish the job they had started.

Strange, the things that could be inspirational, Obsessed mused as he scrolled through a document he had downloaded. Out of sheer frustration over the silence from the Autobot base on Prowl's condition and a complete lack of sightings of Jazz in more than an orn, he had found himself trawling boredly through the human internet while supposedly on comms duty. And there he had come across something fascinating.

He admitted that he did not entirely understand organics, nor did he have any wish to change that. They disgusted him in more ways than he wanted to even consider. Still, they occasionally showed small glimmers of potential. These documents, for example. He was not certain whether or not they were meant to be a factual recording of actual events or why there were so many variants on the theme, but they had given him some fascinating ideas.

In one, a princess - a word for a particularly desirable mate, he assumed from context - was tricked into cutting herself on some sharp object which had been poisoned. The poison put her into such a deep stasis that nothing and no-one could waken her.

Oh sure, the story babbled about curses and blessings but he would happily leave that kind of nonsense to the stupid organics and soft-sparked Auto-dolts. What had clearly happened was someone had drugged the victim - likely the prince who had conveniently turned up later to cure her.

There were multiple versions of what had happened next, but the earliest version was the one that intrigued him. Truly, these humans were a blood-thirsty lot. The princess had been raped whilst in stasis, a new life had been created - twins, in fact! - and they had been extracted and activated before she came back online. Then the prince had returned to sweet-talk her and they had ended up as a lifepair.

There was another tale that had caught his attention too, this time one of a poisoned fuel that had made everyone believe the victim - again a princess? - had died. Skipping over all the bits about the weird little organics singing nonsense songs, he found how she was reactivated later by a kiss from the prince.

Such interesting ideas, he mused, noting that his shift was ending. Things to think about. Yes indeed.

"Two breems." Ratchet glared at him. "After that I'm coming back in."

"I heard ya, doc."

"And he'll have no tactile sense - I'm not releasing the overrides."

"Gotcha."

"And don't let him get agitated."

"I won't."

"I mean it."

"This is Prowl, we're talking'bout, remember?" Jazz asked him impatiently. "Two orns ain't long enough t'get him agitated, let alone two breems. Now, please?"

The medic huffed unhappily, but keyed some codes into the monitor by the berth then stomped out of the room. As the silence drew out Jazz tried not to fidget, watching anxiously for the first sign that Prowl was coming out of stasis, no matter how small. In the end, though, it was not a barely visible physical sign but a frightened gasp across the bond.

//Jazz!//

//I'm here, I'm right here.//

Panic flooded the bond, bourne of an overwhelming need to explain while there was time.

//I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I had to do it, Ironhide was too far away and Optimus couldn't move fast enough and Sunstreaker wasn't going to get there in time...//

//Shh, it's okay.// Jazz hushed him, projecting reassurance as strongly as he could and wishing that Prowl had enough physical sense to feel him holding his hand. //I understand. It's okay.//

The first wave of panic passed but a second one started to swell as he could feel Prowl trying to assess his own damage and failing.

//You're in the repair bay.// Jazz told him before the question could be asked. //Hatchet's been keepin' ya offline til he finishes the repairs, but it's takin' awhile an' I needed ya t'know you were okay.//

//You needed me to know I was okay?// Prowl echoed, confused.

Jazz smiled.

//Yeah. See, I know you're okay, cause Ratch's takin' good care o'ya. But last thing you remembered was bein' shot. If you'd come online wit'out me here an' not bein' fully active, y'mighta thought the worst.//

There was a moment of contemplative silence.

//Such as?//

//I dunno - seems you can always think o'somethin' worse than I'd ever dream up. An' Hatchet doesn't want ya panickin', so I had ta reassure ya. Right?//

//It's a good thing my logic processor is offline or you might have made me glitch.// Prowl sighed, his tone tinged with humour as he relaxed. //How is it I've been bonded to you all these vorns and still can't get you to understand basic logic?//

//Aw, Prowler, I understand it jus' fine. I jus' choose not t'use it, y'know? So. You gonna be okay?//

//I have it on the very best authority that I will.// Prowl told him drily.

//Then I'll go back t'work.// Jazz agreed. //Primus knows th'boss could use a hand now. But I'll be in t'check on ya regularly. An' when y'get your sensors back again, I'll give ya a proper wake up kiss but this'll have t'do til then.//

He leaned over to kiss Prowl's slack lips, projecting the sensations through the bond.

"Jazz!"

He jerked back in startlement, then glared at the medic.

"That was never two full breems." he complained.

"Two breems from the moment I paused the stasis program." Ratchet told him unapologetically.

//Gotta go, Prowler. You need your rest.//

//He sounds irritated. Do you need me to defend you?//

//Wish y'could.// Jazz sighed wistfully, then clamped down before he could project the depth of sincerity behind the statement and make Prowl worry. //See ya soon.//

Prowl's response was emotional only, the program taking hold again and stopping all active processes. Then there was nothing again. Sighing aloud regretfully, Jazz settled Prowl's hand back on the berth with a final fond pat then headed for the door.

"Where are you going?" Ratchet called.

"Back to work." Jazz called over his shoulder. "Can't shirk off forever, right?"

Ensuring he was present for Laserbeak's report was not difficult. Half the crew were there, and their numbers helped to conceal his reactions as the details he had been itching to hear were revealed.

Prowl was seriously injured indeed, but stable. He was being kept offline until the repairs could be completed, but they were delayed while new parts were being fabricated from scratch - not an easy task since the Autobots had no access to Cybertron and most of the Earth substitute materials were inferior. Jazz had been standing vigil at his side ever since the battle, but now for no reason Laserbeak had been able to determine he had resumed his normal routine even though Prowl was still badly hurt.

That point was debated briefly then dismissed as the cassette continued with some details about Perceptor and Wheeljack and a new device, but Obsessed stopped listening. This was too good an opportunity to ignore. It was earlier than he had planned, but could he afford to waste the chance this offered?

Right now, Prowl was out of the way and there was no-one to blame for that but Prowl himself. Nothing to raise anyone's suspicions. And Jazz had returned to work.

He smiled to himself. What perfect timing! He had only just completed work on the hideaway bunker, and the virus was ready to go. He had seduced Mixmaster - an unpleasant but necessary part of the preparations - and collected the compound he needed to ensure things went his way, and the chemist did not know enough to know how his concoction was going to be used.

This was going to be perfect: all he had to do was be ready for the next battle.

A/N: the fairytales referenced here are Sleeping Beauty and Snow White, though it's the early 1830s Grimm version of Dornroschen which involved a rose thorn rather than a spindle and some rather dubious actions on the part of the "Prince Charming", not the more recent sanitised Disney-esque Sleeping Beauty - trust me, they're very different.