I was planning to keep the story in Prowl's POV but Jazz... well Jazz had an argument with me and won out in this chapter, the later half being in from his pov...

Disclaimer: I don't own The Transformers!

word count is in at 1204

Thanks go out to: Answerthecall, theOHiangurl, Every1's Beta, ReadsToMuchALot, Searece, igeegeei, Zeng Xiao Long Sunstar Crystal, sukkazii, Yami-Yugi3, arceenergon, Alana-kittychan, Searece, and Sarielgrace for Reviewing, following, Faving, and Yami for the community add. Now onto the chapter!

Chapter 3: Failed Mission...

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Prowl noted the quietness of the rec room. Several of the mechs shot glares in his direction, others made no acknowledgement of him. It had been an metacycle since the failed attempt to reclaim one of the mines that the Decepticons had taken over. The cons had seen several steps ahead and had caught the Autobot forces off guard, nearly wiping out the tactical and medical bots that had been in what he had concluded a safe point out of the danger of the serious fighting... in fact the only one still online from that group were Ambulon, Tonic, Smokescreen, Doldrum, and himself.

To make matters worse, the cons had managed to pin the Autobot forces in the mine before dropping the roof of the damn thing on them. What had started as a simple, well coordinated attack became a defeat that had sent over twenty of their comrades to the well, and left almost a dozen in the med bay.

To say the least, there were many who were disheartened by the loss of their friends. Prowl didn't fault them for their displeasure and scorn. He vented an internal sigh as he took his usual seat. He bore their spark piercing gazes stoically, wishing for either his brother or even Jazz to come speak with him... But Ratchet had yet to release Smokescreen and Jazz... No one had really seen Jazz since before the mine... If it hadn't been for the saboteur's report on his desk, and the report from the Wreckers, he would have suspected that he had perished under the rubble.

Prowl's tank churned in turmoil as he thought back to the almost bland report... Either Jazz had taken his retorts seriously for a change or something... something else had gone wrong during that last mission...

Prowl sighed as he stood up from his seat. He needed to figure this out, and the best way was to go to the source.

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Jazz hissed when he came too, his processor was wrapped in a fog of pain. His restraints tightened their grip as his visor flashed online to take in the barely lit cave. The only source of said light were the dimly glowing energon crystals, the light cast by his visor, and a red visor.

"Hello Meister." a familiar voice said as a he was pulled towards that red visor. A rumble built in his chassis as the speaker's battle mask parted to reveal the face that he had once upon a time loved more than any other.

"Mah name's Jazz." Jazz growled as he fought against the wires binding him. "Meister died vorns ago. No thanks to you. Let me go you filthy Con."

A chuckle escaped the Decepticon TIC. "And let you warn your comrades about our trap? I think not." Soundwave whispered as he dragged a servo down Jazz's frame. "Beside's Jazz you were a con just like me at one point in time..."

"Glitched fragger." Jazz spat at him trying to ignore the fine tipped claws caressing his transformation seams. "Get your fragging servos off of me." He growled, his field filled with disgust, anger and fear.

Those claws had made their way up to his helm, tracing a line back and forth between his audio horns and his visor. Jazz tried to fight down the tremble that came with each stroke to his visor. His intake hitched slightly as Soundwave's servo stopped on the edge of his visor.. "If you insist."

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Jazz shot straight up on his berth, gasping for air, the motion sensor for his lights brightening the room quickly. The last vestiges of the memory loop clinging to him, the feel of Soundwave's tentacles against his armor, the pain from having his visor ripped off... Jazz buried his helm in his hands, and tried to ignore his time in the mine...

I can see. I can see. It's not dark. He's not here...

Soundwave had left him down there in that damned fissure cave, blind, fairly molested, and sealed him in to the cave on top of it... It was fragging luck that Jazz had been found by the group of Wreckers that had been digging for their own in the (by the time they found him) collapsed mine...

It took the medics several painstaking cycles to even consider giving him a replacement visor with the amount of casualties that had flooded the med bay with the failed mission... It nearly drove him mad... that darkness...

He shuddered again, curling in even tighter on himself as he hiccupped. I'm safe... It's not dark... I can see...

A knock on his door brought him out of his mantra with a jolt. He lifted his helm from his arms and stared at the door torn between answering it and ignoring whoever was on the outside.

The knock repeated itself again, a little sharper this time. "Jazz I know you are in there. Red hasn't seen you leave your room fro several cycles."

Just because he hasn't seen me doesn't mean I don't have other ways of getting out of here. Jazz frowned as he glared at the door.

"Jazz, don't make me have to go to Ratchet to get your door open."

You would too. Jazz thought scornfully as he uncurled himself from the berth as he made his way to the door. The door slid aside to reveal the somewhat stressed Praxian standing there. Prowl looked worse for wear, most likely from the results of the lost battle, there were still healing weld marks on the tactician's chassis. "Whaddya want Prowler?"

Prowl blinked at him, his optics zeroing on his face. Was that concern? "I read your report." he said as his mouth pulled into a tight line.

"And?" Jazz asked as he leaned against the door frame.

"What aren't you saying?"

Jazz had to force himself to smile. "Who said Ah was hidin' anythin'?"

Prowl's frown deepened. "Jazz you forget that I have seen your reports. You never have managed to write your reports with such concise clarity. If it wasn't for the fact that it's written in your handwriting, I would suspect that you had had Mirage write it."

"Ya were da one who kept growlin' at meh to submit cleaner reports ta ya."

Prowl stared at him for several klicks before sighing. "You are correct. But I didn't expect you to actually listen to me. Forgive me for jumping to conclusions, I should known better." Prowl said as he turned his helm.

"Is dat all ya need?"

Prowl shifted slightly as he retrained his gaze back on Jazz's faceplates. "Get some rest Jazz, you look like you could use it."

"Hey at least Ah don't look like Ah'm fresh off da Hatchet's table." Jazz smirked.

Prowl blinked at him before shaking his helm. "I suppose you are right. Have a good night cycle Jazz."

Jazz watched as Prowl rounded the corner before he retreated back into his quarters. It hurt having to lie to his friend, but this was something he'd rather deal with on his own.