A/N: Slight rewriting to make more sense as far as why Prowl has been the aft that he's been lately. o.o; Enjoy. Review please.

A week passed and neither Jazz nor Ratchet left Prowl alone. They kept watch on him like a photovaltic pussycat eyeing a glitch mouse. Just as he predicted, Ratchet didn't let him recharge in his room, forcing him to come to the medbay every night with alarms set up in case Prowl tried to leave. Optimus and Bulkhead had begun to get suspicious, but Ratchet deterred any questions by carrying around a good-sized wrench. It was irritating, to say the least, but he knew he could only blame himself. They were just worried about him and didn't want him doing anything to harm himself, but he sincerely wished he could get just one moment of peace.

Prowl was now in one of his 'therapy' sessions with Ratchet. The old medic was insistent that they talk about his problems, and most of that involved discussing the source of his depression, a tender subject and one he didn't want to think about. To the veteran's annoyance, Prowl was very reluctant to talk at all, often glaring pure hatred at him or questioning why he was being forced to go through this.

"Prowl, for the thousandth time," Ratchet sighed, obviously trying to keep from raising his voice, "You need to talk about what happened."

"Why?" Prowl retorted yet again, back facing the irritated medic. Ratchet vented another sigh. The cyberninja was being a stubborn aft, and the way he kept his backstruts to him while he asked yet again 'why' reminded him of a certain yellow mech.

"Because it's not healthy for you to harbor suicidal thoughts," Ratchet dead-panned, tired of dealing with the mech's refusal to cooperate. He'd used this line before, but Prowl never answered him, always staring blankly at the wall. The medic decided it was time to get to the source of the ninja's problem since it was clear that he wouldn't bring it up himself, "You need to find a way to move on if Bumblebee's deactivation is making you this miserable." Prowl visibly stiffened, turning to glare at the medic. Ratchet made a noise similar to a human gulping. He swore he could see the smoldering fires of the Pit burning in the blue visor.

"He wasn't just deactivated. He was murdered. You, of all mechs, should remember that."

"I am NOT going to blame Sari for this, Prowl."

"Why not?" The black and gold mech snarled, actually turning completely around to face him, "It's that little freak's fault that all of this even happened!" Ratchet openly gawked at Prowl. Never, even after Bumblebee's deactivation, had Prowl gone so far as to call Sari a freak. In that moment, Ratchet realized that they'd let it go on for far too long. Recovering from his shock, the medic huffed at Prowl.

"I'll have you know, Prowl, that Sari is just as upset as you. You know that the poor girl cries herself to sleep at night now because you've filled her with guilt. I hope to Primus she doesn't get so miserable as to try and do something as stupid as you did." Prowl's visor flashed, Ratchet's only warning before the cyberninja leapt off the berth. Much to his surprise, the medbay doors hissed open, and Prowl shot out the opening before Ratchet could move to stop him. Realizing that the dark mech had used that processor over matter technique to override the locks on the door, Ratchet tapped the side of his helm in annoyance.

What's up, Ratch? Jazz's concerned voice sounded over the comm. The medic sighed, pinching his nasal ridge between two digits.

It's Prowl. He's escaped.

On it. The communication line went silent. It was quiet for a few kliks until the distant sounds of fighting and arguing reached his audios. He knew the routine by now. Jazz would catch Prowl off-guard, the darker bot would try to fight back and quite well at that, but Jazz was the more experienced cyberninja. He would best Prowl in a matter of nanoseconds.

Nearly a breem went by before Jazz came strolling into the med-bay, a stasis-cuffed Prowl thrown over his shoulder. Unable to do much more than talk, the black and gold mech was growling a line of profanities, both human and Cybertronian. Jazz deposited Prowl none-too-gracefully onto the berth, his faceplates clearly expressing the annoyance he held for his friend's behavior.

"Prowl, this has got to stop," Ratchet mumbled, trying to keep the anger and annoyance out of his voice as Prowl turned away from him, glaring at the ceiling. Beside him, Ratchet heard Jazz grumble something incoherent before turning to look at the medic.

"Mind if I try a little something?" Ratchet gestured with his servo towards the depressed mech on the berth.

"Be my guest." Jazz nodded, standing beside the berth and staring down hard at Prowl.

It surprised the other two when Jazz's servo flew out and struck Prowl across the faceplate causing both the dark bot and the medic to stare at him in disbelief. The Elite guard was strictly against hurting those he cared about, and it was highly unusual for him to lose his temper with anyone. One look at the deep frown set on his faceplates told Ratchet that the white cyberninja was fed up with his friend and could stand-by no longer.

"Stop being such a stupid, stubborn aft. You think you're the only one suffering when the suffering is only worse because of you," Jazz was nearly growling the words, but Ratchet made no move to stop him or tell him to go on. If anything, the medic hoped that whatever Jazz had to say would serve as the wake-up call Prowl desperately needed, "I know I didn't know 'im as well as the rest of ya, but Bumblebee was a damn good mech and friend, and the way you're acting is disrepectful to his memory. If you can't see how much you're hurting everyone with that, then I'm having a slagging hard time understanding what Bee ever saw in you."

Stunned silence followed the end of Jazz's rant, the white mech holding Prowl's shocked, hurt, and somewhat disbelieving stare with his own. Ratchet could only stare wide-opticed and mouth gaping. He honestly had not been expecting such an outburst from the normally cool mech. Whatever he had been expecting, it certainly had not been that even though he could admit it had been needing to be said for awhile.

Prowl, it seemed, didn't know quite how to react. His lips were parted in a silent gasp like bewilderment, but his visor was tilted into that pained expression Ratchet last remembered seeing the day Bumblebee went offline. After several kliks of silence, Prowl's gaze fell and turned away from both, the faint trembling of his frame suggesting that he was holding back clicks as best he could.

Jazz motioned to Ratchet to leave with a nod of his helm. The medic was reluctant at first, but a promise to keep Prowl in the medbay made over their comm. links reassured him. Still, he was hesitant when he left out the doors that slid shut with a soft hiss. Left alone, Prowl did something Jazz didn't he was capable of doing anymore. He broke down.

Soft and just barely above a whisper, clicks flowed from his vocalizer like water from a container. With the stassis cuffs still restricting his movements, Prowl couldn't do much more than turn his head to the side, but it was obvious that he wanted to curl in on himself. Jazz might've undone the cuffs if not for the fact he wasn't sure if Prowl would try to bolt or not.

After nearly a breem, the motorcyclist's cries ceased, his expression far away as though he was remembering some distant memory. Jazz hoped that he hadn't gotten lost in the past again, but he knew the breakdown was something Prowl had been needing for awhile rather than repressing it with high-grade. He felt only a twinge of guilt for putting his friend through that kind of despair, but he just couldn't stand Prowl's attitude anymore, and his suicide attempt of a week ago had Jazz worried out of his processor for Prowl's mental health.

Clearing his intake, Jazz spoke in a quiet, apologetic but stern tone, "I'm sorry, Prowl. I really am, but..."

"No. Don't apologize," Prowl's hollow voice cut across him. The black and gold mech sounded dead to the world, "You're right. I'm dishonoring him and trying self termination....That's a disgraceful insult to his memory. He...he would've been ashamed of me."

Jazz hadn't been expecting this kind of reaction or confession from Prowl at his speech. In fact, for what he'd said, he'd been expecting the black cyberninja to lash out and yell at him, to tell him that he did not and would never understand. He wondered if perhaps he'd struck a nerve no one else had had the courage to strike for fear of losing their comrade completely.

'And look what's become of him now...' The thought passed bitterly through Jazz's meta as watched his friend shake with suppressed sobs. They were on the verge of losing Prowl by his own servos and only he and Ratchet knew. Prime, Bulkhead, and Sari had no clue of his suicide attempt, and if Ratchet and Jazz had their way, they wouldn't know for awhile. Not until Prowl was stable again, and they could put the incident behind them.

When Prowl spoke again, it was with a broken voice, and the words that left his vocalizer stopped Jazz's spark, "He...He was carrying, Jazz. He was carrying my sparkling." If Jazz hadn't been leaning against the other berth, he might've fallen over completely. His processor stalled, and his tanks gave an unsettling lurch. Everything made sense now, why Prowl had taken everything so hard, why Sari caught the brunt of Prowl's misery and irrational anger, why Prowl himself had been so far gone as to try suicide.

He hadn't just lost Bumblebee that day. He'd lost their unborn child, something precious and worthwhile created between them. Sari had taken two sparks offline without even realizing it, and from the lack of reaction on everyone else's behalf, Jazz doubted that they'd even known about the sparkling. There probably hadn't been time to tell them before the accident. Guilt for his own speech filled his spark, and it took a tremendous amount of effort on his part to keep from purging.

It wasn't just the past that Prowl was mourning. So much had been lost with Bumblebee and the sparkling's untimely terminations, and Jazz was just realizing the extent of the damage to Prowl's spark. He'd never get to hold it, never know if would have been a mech or femme. He'd never get to see it take it's first steps or it's first smile, hear it's first laugh or call him 'daddy'. Perhaps worst of all--no, definitely worse-- was that Prowl would never get to share in that special moment with Bumblebee when their sparkling would have entered the world and taken it's first 'breath' of life.

Maybe Prowl's suicide attempt had been his desperate bid to try and reunite his shattered family, and Jazz couldn't help the small twinge of guilt he felt for denying him that simple wish.

Trying to push down his own warring emotions with the revelation, Jazz locked optics with Prowl and hoped he sounded convincing, "Listen, Prowl. I know that must be tough, Pit it must be awful, but you can't let that drag you down. Bee said he'd wait for ya, right?" Faintly, Prowl nodded, focusing on the ceiling, "Then do what he would've wanted you to do. Move on and forgive. Try to be happy. Live." Jazz watched Prowl carefully, noting how his optic ridges furrowed, as though he were actually considering Jazz's words. Beyond that, his expression was unreadable, still the same dead, blank look it had become after his breakdown.

After what felt like stellar cycles, Prowl finally sighed, giving a faint nod that was accompanied by a quiet answer, "I'll try."

Jazz broke out into a smile. It may not have seemed like much to some, but he considered it a huge step in the right direction. Before Jazz had snapped, Prowl would've never even considered it. He leaned over and unlocked the stassis cuffs, allowing Prowl to sit up and rub his wrists while he stared absently at the floor.

Prowl still felt numb inside, his depression back with a force that was almost unbearable. However, there was no way he would try self-termination again. It had been hard enough the first time, and he could only imagine the nightmares that plagued Jazz of finding him bleeding energon out from his sliced main line. He wasn't going to put his friend through that again. As daunting as the task seemed at the moment, he was going to try to do what Jazz suggested. What Bumblebee would've wanted him to do.

'My time will come soon. I'll see you there, Bee.'