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Disclaimer – I do not own Transformers or any of their characters.
I'll be There (2)
Prowl onlined his optics painfully. Everything was white, the light far too bright for his optics as he shuttered them again momentarily with a small moan. He frowned. Where exactly was he? He slowly on-lined his optics again, this time to be greeted by an old, scowling face looming dangerously close to him, way too close for his comfort. Prowl winced as he tried to move away.
"Good, I see you are finally online and coherent. Took you long enough you fragger." The old, grouchy voice scolded. Prowl tried to focus on the voice. It was vaguely familiar, but his processor was reacting unusually slow. Instead of hurting his processor anymore than it already was, he glanced around at the chaos and noise in the room.
The room was a hive of activity. Mechs were down on the floor or lying in berths, some thrashing others lying deathly still. Screams of pain were intermingled with loud sobbing while medibots ran from patient to patient, administering medicine or simply cleaning and covering wounds. Machines sounded in the background as it intermingled with the curses and screams of various mechs. Slowly Prowl's mind started piecing together the facts laid before him. He was in Iacon medical facility. But how, or rather why was he here.
It suddenly came rushing back to Prowl like an unstoppable tide slamming full-force into him –the battle, the blazing building, the chocking smoke, screeching seekers, the sudden pain and then nothing. Prowl groaned again as his processor felt like bursting through his helm. He rebooted his systems, hoping it would sooth his battle computer and logic centre.
"How long have I been offline?" Prowl managed to ask weakly. Hopefully he hadn't been offline for too long, he needed to finish a report of the battle for the Prime as soon as he was released from medbay. He tried to sit up only to gasp in pain as his sensor grid shot fire through his frame, warning signs popping up in his vision, informing him of his foolish actions. He sank back onto the berth, gritting his denta as the pain subsided.
"Lie still slag it. I don't want to redo everything I did," Ratchet hissed at him, pushing him flat onto his back, and not being too gentle about it either. "Had to replace one of your doorwings, and you had some plating and rewiring done. Your systems are still sensitive, but I'm worried about your processor." Ratchet leaned over Prowl again as he shone a bright, white light into his optic. "Reflexes appear to be normal though," he grumbled more to himself.
At that moment the doors to the medbay hissed open as a lithe, silver mech came ambling into the chaos heading straight for Prowl. Relief flooded the saboteur as ice blue optics turned wearily towards him.
"Prowl, good to see you're up mech." He smiled warmly. Ratchet frowned amd threw him a look that clearly threatened 'upset him, and I will dismantle you.' Jazz ignored him. Seeing as Prowl was up, well awake at least, suddenly made his orn a damn size better, and not even the notorious Hatchet was going to intimidate him today.
Prowl's faceplate remained blank even as his optics momentarily lit up at the sight of Jazz. Jazz caught the slight change in Prowl's optics, his grin threatening to split his face in two. He sauntered over with the nonchalance of somebody who owned the place, but kept well clear of Ratchet. He came to a halt at Prowl's head.
"So, how ya feeling?" he asked, his melodic voice tainted with exuberant joy as he looked at his best friend. Most of the damage had been repaired, but the tactician still looked exhausted.
"I am functional. Thank you. Will you please inform me of the duration of my stay in the med bay as Ratchet has not yet answered my question," Prowl replied, raising his voice as he spoke to be heard above the noise coming from the room. He hissed in pain as Ratchet twisted something inside his frame. Jazz grimaced as he watched Ratchet. It almost looked like the medic enjoyed doing that. Jazz shook his head. Better not toy with the devil today. Ratchet was in a foul mood thanks to the Decepticon attack on another neutral settlement earlier and, due to the carnage they had left, his consequent lack of recharge.
"You've only been here for littl' over an orn. Ain't that long. Turns out yer wounds weren't so bad once Ratch and Aide patched ya up and ya had enough energon cycling through ya." Jazz replied nonchalantly with a shrug from his handsome shoulders. He didn't inform Prowl that it had been a close call, seeing that the slash marks on his chest were only millimetres above his sparkchamber and had caused some internal fluids to leak throughout his frame and corroded important wires. Yup, Prowler didn't need to know that.
"Indeed," Ratchet added, "and as I need the medbay for other, more injured bots, I'm going release you from medbay and assign you to your quarters, but I want you to come back here if you feel anything's off. You are also on medical leave until I clear you for duty. I don't want you anywhere near your office. Am I clear?" Ratchet glared at Prowl. Prowl glared back. He wouldn't go to his office, but he could still work from his quarters. He needed to send in that report.
Jazz eyed the medic and the tactician, sensing the battle of wills. And he wasn't supposed to upset the tactician? Jazz sighed rubbing his hand over his faceplate. "I'll escort Prowl to his quarters, make sure he stays there." He knew Prowl would probably try to get some work done anyway. The bot was, to Jazz's dismay, an absolute workaholic.
Ratchet nodded. "He will need to have the new plating covering his wounds cleaned. The risk of infection is always a possibility, though if cleaned it ought not to be a problem. I've written pain defence programs that I will upload into his system before I release him from medbay." He moved towards his office to retrieve the programs, leaving Prowl and Jazz alone for the moment.
Jazz looked over Prowl's frame. Ratchet had done a good job with mending Prowl. He looked considerably better than the previous time Jazz saw him. His plating was clean, new plating had been welded over the open wounds, and he had a new doorwing attached, courtesy of Wheeljack. Jazz's optics travelled up Prowl's frame until they rested on his optics. Those same optics were staring hard at him. Prowl cocked an optic ridge at Jazz, who simply smiled in return. 'Just admirin' the view, Prowler"
"Help me up." Prowl ordered tersely. Jazz cast one glance at Ratchet's office, debating the risks before helping Prowl into a sitting position. Prowl grimaced as the pain shot through his frame, before subsiding somewhat. He glanced around the medbay. Sunstreaker was on the berth closest to him, Sideswipe on the one behind Sunstreaker, and as was customary for the two frontliners, they both looked like they had been through the Pit and back. Prowl couldn't put designations with the remaining bots. They did not boast Autobot colours, which meant that they had to be neutrals.
Jazz watched as Prowl perused the medbay, his cold, calculating optics missing nothing. "Another neutral settlement was attacked this mornin', we're treatin' the survivors." Jazz intoned quietly, his mouth grim.
Prowl gave a curt nod. His systems felt as if they were caught in a bog, the more he tried to think logically, the more his thoughts became scrambled. Prowl shuttered his optics in hope that it would clear his thought patterns. Thankfully his battle computer took the reins.
"Prowler, ya sure your ok?" Jazz frowned as Prowl shut his optics and leaned into him. Once again he was answered with a curt nod.
Ratchet came out of his office carrying a small bottle and clean cloths. He looked inquiringly at Jazz as he saw Prowl sitting on the berth leaning against him. Jazz merely shrugged and moved out of the irate medic's way. Ratchet pulled out his interface cable and plugged into Prowl's panel, uploading the medical programs he had written for the tactician. He unceremoniously disconnected once the upload was complete and handed Jazz the bottle and cloths. "Use those to clean the plating round his wounds once a day. If you notice any discharge or rust, bring him back immediately. Now get out of my medbay." Ratchet dismissed them with a jerk of his head in the doors direction, before heading towards Sunstreaker.
Jazz slid an arm around the tactician's waist, helping him to rise. Thankfully the medical programs had already kicked in so Prowl was able to move without too much discomfort. They silently exited the med bay. The corridors of Iacon base were strangely quiet as Jazz and Prowl slowly made their way to Prowl's quarters through the dimly lit corridors. By the time they reached it Prowl was leaning heavily on Jazz's smaller frame, exhaustion clearly showing on his grimacing faceplate. Jazz manoeuvred Prowl into a position that would enable him to deactivate the lock on Prowl's door. Luckily he knew the codes to the tactician's quarters, he didn't think Prowl was capable of giving him the codes at that moment. The door finally slid open as Jazz helped Prowl to his berth.
Prowl gently lay down, mindful of his aching doorwings and frame. Prowl thought back to the battle. The sight of neutrals dying, the smell of houses burning, the screaming, everything came to the front as his memories surfaced, bringing with it all the turmoil of emotions like a strong torrent of water trying to drag him under. Prowl didn't want to think of it right now, yet his battle computer was mercilessly hammering him with memories mixed with facts. His processor was aching and he felt like purging. But still, he had to know.
"How many did we lose?" he asked Jazz, who had flopped down unceremoniously on the only sofa in Prowl's room. If it hadn't been for Jazz, this sofa wouldn't even be in the room.
Jazz hesitated, Prowl shouldn't be worrying about that right now, his emotional centre would only make things worse in his present condition. "Prowl, don't think about it now. We can talk about it later, when ya feel better and all."
"Jazz, I need to know. Please answer my question."
An uncomfortable silence filled the room as Jazz debated within himself. Prowl was too stubborn to let something just go, if Jazz wasn't going to tell him he'll find some other way to sniff it out, and he wouldn't rest until he did. He cycled air slowly through his vents.
"We lost four Autobots. A lot of the Neutrals also died. I don't know the exact count of Neutrals yet. Lot of mechs got injured though," Jazz said, dejectedly. They had gone out to help the Neutrals the moment they had learned that the Decepticons were targeting the Neutral settlement. By the time they had arrived, the camp was already under fire. They tried to get as many of the Neutrals out of the area as they could, but it was impossible to get all of them out alive. Jazz loathed Megatron a bit more each time he thought of the carnage and the lives that had been lost for no reason other than having decided to stay neutral.
Prowl grimaced and let out a small groan. Jazz shot up and was next to him in an instant. "Prowl don't think about the battle now, yer emotions are too raw and yer still recoverin." Jazz looked at the pained expression on Prowl's normally expressionless faceplate. He briefly he wondered if Prowl should have been discharged from the medbay so soon. He didn't look 'functional' at all. "We did everything we could Prowler. Yer strategies saved a lot of lives. Now, drink some energon and get some recharge. I'll be here when ya wake up and then we can talk about it. 'k?" Jazz said gently as he took an energon cube out of his subspace. He handed it to Prowl and watched the tactician down it.
Prowl handed the empty cube back to Jazz, lying down slowly on the berth. He still felt like purging. Hopefully the energon would stay inside his tanks. Apart from that his processor was not only aching now, it was spinning faster than a newly formed pulsar star. He shuttered his optics. The walk from the medbay had drained him and he felt unusually weak. In all probability, it was the side effects of the medical programs uploaded into his system. He would need to talk to Ratchet about that. Yet it seemed that at present recharge was the most logical path to follow. With a sigh he initiated his recharge programs.
Jazz watched Prowl a moment longer. He raised his hand and touched the handsome yet frowning faceplate softly. His optics were raw with emotion, hidden behind his diamond visor. He had nearly lost his partner and best friend, and the thought left a vile, bitter taste in his mouth. He leaned over Prowl, pressing his forehead intimately against the recharging tactician's, holding it there for a moment.
He frowned slightly. Prowl felt abnormally warm to him. Jazz stood back, scanning the tactician's core temperature. Although a bit higher than the average temperature it still fell within acceptable parameters. Jazz was of a mind to call Ratchet, but the medic would probably offline him if it wasn't anything life-threatening. He scanned for temperature again. It had gone slightly down. Probably just heated up a bit from the walk. Dismissing it, Jazz threw a final glance at the recharging tactician as he dimmed the lights and left the room.
Prowl woke up shivering. He hurt everywhere –his processor, his frame, his doorwings. He tried to get up, but his frame seized, then started convulsing. He groaned through clenched denta as his battle computer tried to take control, but it only caused his systems to go from bad to worse. Warnings shot up in his blurred vision, but Prowl couldn't decipher anything. The room was spinning too fast. The pain was excruciating as it spread through Prowl's frame in icy rivers of scorching heat, Prowl's optics dimmed as consciousness began to flee. He could feel energon running down his chin, feel his hands clench, his body arch, yet he was powerless to control any of it. Prowl! He heard his designation being called from far off, but darkness enveloped him in its cold, merciful embrace as all sensation fled from his processor.
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