This is how it ends. The last thing he sees is the first thing he remembers.
There's fire everywhere, and the ground is trembling under his feet, threatening to give way and drop him through the hundreds of sublevels to be smashed to pieces against the core of the planet. Behind him there's the roar of engines, forcing him to run harder than he ever has before. He leaps across chasms, dodges fallen debris and half-melted frames, ducks blaster shots.
He turns a corner, and stumbles across the first of the grey frames. A layer of dust covers everything, and every in-vent irritates his filters. His tanks ping him incessantly with low fuel warnings, but the frames here aren't even worth trying to siphon – they've been gone for too long.
He drops to his knees, the last bit of fuel spent, and the electro-whip lashes across his back. He's laid out flat, his tormentor staring down at him, grinning at him, and acid eats through his connectors and sensors as his plating is torn from his frame.
When the acid hits his optics, Jazz sits bolt upright and screams.
"Easy, love. You're safe." The crooning voice meant safety, like it always had, but he couldn't relax yet. It could easily be a trap. That had been the case before.
"Darling," the voice continued. "Hemingway. Especially. Corner. Lacewing. Hedwig. Queen. Diamond. Apple. Verbose. Seventeen."
"Acorn. Scale. Icecap. Bound. Caller," Jazz finished. He turned and burrowed against Red Alert's plating. "Thanks, Red."
"Of course." Gentle hands embraced him, pulling him close to the warm frame. "Always."
They lay there in the dark together until Jazz's spark had settled and his venting was back to normal.
"Is it the same dream?"
"Yeah," Jazz sighed. "Same as always. Thanks for snappin' me out of it."
"You're safe here with me," Red Alert murmured. He kissed Jazz's forehead.
"I know."
And he did. Red Alert had been Jazz's safe haven long before they'd become lovers. They were the same in so many ways, both scarred, both damaged, both exceptionally skilled in their chosen fields. It was what made them work so well together.
Jazz was a deadly, focused operative whenever he was a mission. He was always on high alert when he was deployed, went weeks with only fitful recharge and poor fueling, always ready to defend himself on a moment's notice. Always ready to kill.
But he couldn't unwind. He never felt safe. Not until he'd met Red, at least.
Because Red Alert saw everything. He knew every nook and cranny of the Ark, saw every ventilation shaft and blind spot. The Ark was Red Alert's fortress, and he had complete control over it. And that meant that Jazz could let his control go.
A routine had established itself, one where Jazz sought Red out after every mission. At first he'd hidden at Red's pedes, under his desk, often with a knife or two at the ready, until Red had gone through every inch of the Ark and assured him that it hadn't been breached.
After a good long while, Jazz had felt safe enough to stop hiding under the desk, and instead hovered behind Red's shoulder until the checks had been done.
Then he'd graduated to lounging in a chair while Red reassured him.
Then, one day, Red Alert had met him at the door, and said: "Welcome home, Jazz. The Ark is safe."
That night Jazz had gone with Red back to his quarters.
Jazz went on missions to keep Red Alert safe. In return, Red gave Jazz a safe haven.
"Love you," Jazz whispered.
"Love you more," Red whispered back. His fingers caressed Jazz's sensor horn. "Feel like going back to recharge?"
"If you hold me like this," Jazz replied. "Want t' feel your spark."
Red Alert chuckled and pulled him closer. "That helps, huh?"
"Immensely." Jazz nuzzled Red's chest. Then he chuckled. "Ya know Wheeljack's been askin' me for help with that haunted house he wanted for Halloween?"
"What about it?"
"Now I know what t' make." He settled in Red's arms, ex-venting softly. "The dreams are good for something, at least."
"Don't make it too scary," Red chastised gently. "It's supposed to be fun."
"Oh, I know. I won't go overboard."
"Good." Red kissed his forehead again. "Recharge, love. I'll be right here."
Jazz knew that. Red Alert was always there.
Feeling safe and comforted, he slipped back to recharge.