Wow, I'm late on this. I understand how the white rabbit feels. I am so sorry, and I'd not be surprised if everyone decided there's better things to read. Life happened, and I didn't work on anything the entire summer, so this is horribly late.

pls don't be mad.

Prowl hated blacking out. Hated the moment of vulnerability, however brief it may be. Hated the initial memory lapse and everything that came with it, hated the memory lapse the next morning and everything that came with that. But most of all, he hated waking up not recalling anything in the last half hour or so, with potentially no clue where he was, who he was with, if he had met anyone new, if he was in any danger, and if anyone else was in any danger because of him.

Thankfully, he'd been living with the...ah, handicap, not that he would ever admit to thinking of it that way, his whole life. So he was well acquainted with what to do when he awoke with no recollection of the last half hour and the sensation of having been moved.

When Prowl was a child, he would always panic after waking up. Thankfully with experience, he'd learned the proper action to take in such a situation. What was the proper action, some would ask?

Absolutely nothing.

Prowl felt the stranger moving him and tried to determine if there was only one. His ears still had to 'reboot' as Ratchet would say, so he couldn't make out any of what the stranger was saying. Although, after focusing on the voice, Prowl deduced that the pitch of it was too low for a woman. So it wasn't Elita or Arcee, who both loved to surprise him. Strong as they were, Sunstreaker and Sideswipe wouldn't be strong enough to lift him as the man was doing.

It would have been a relief if it were the twins, no matter how many times he'd woken up in rather unsavory situations.

Prowl felt the surface he was placed on give under his weight. Cushions? A couch?

The stranger said something else that Prowl couldn't quite understand before the man's footsteps retreated.

Well, he couldn't just lie here if he was in any sort of danger. Prowl risked opening one eye, and saw that he was in the main room of his apartment, lying on the considerably comfortable sofa.

A quick sweep of the room revealed a man with olive skin, dreadlocks, and sunglasses in hand in front of the refrigerator. Prowl watched as the man opened the door to the freezer, which momentarily blocked the man's view of where Prowl was laying.

Perfect.

With about as much grace as a newborn giraffe, Prowl rolled off of the sofa onto the floor, and made haste to his open bedroom door. Thank Primus he didn't have to pass the opening to the kitchen, or through the kitchen itself. He'd be screwed if that was the case.

Prowl also hated the stiffness and drowsiness of waking up.

While scrambling to stand up and actually enter his bedroom, Prowl heard a (cute, if not for the situation) squeak and the sound of something hitting the floor.

It occurred to Prowl that maybe the man wasn't there to harm him, and that it was an honest mistake. However, he couldn't take any chances.

He just hoped that his spare pistol was where it was supposed to be.

Looking at the empty couch, Jazz was terrified. He unintentionally let out a squeak and felt the icepack slip from between his fingers. Fortunately, he kept hold of his sunglasses.

With hands positioned as though still holding the icepack, Jazz stiffly made his way to stand over where Prowl had been not even a moment ago. He looked at the armrest where he had spent so much energy propping up Prowl's feet, and then looked at where the man's head had been as though the couch were hiding Prowl somewhere. Due to his past experience with a couch (an experience that shall never again be directly mentioned or thought of), Jazz wouldn't have put it past the lump of cushion.

"Prowl?" Jazz's voice was hesitant, and when he received no answer a low whine escaped him. "Prowl, I really don't want to have to tell Prime that I broke you and lost you, so please stop hiding now."

Again, no answer was heard.

"This isn't funny!" Jazz knew his desperation was clearly audible, but that was just as well.

With nothing else to do and no evident way to find Prowl, Jazz gave an almost-sob and turned to go pick up the icepack he'd dropped.

And looked straight down the barrel of a handgun.

In panic, Jazz took a step back and landed uneasily on the couch. He'd forgotten he was so close to it.

"Who are you?" The holder of the gun demanded.

Recognizing the voice, Jazz looked past the gun and into the very unimpressed looking face of Prowl.

"Prowl!" Immediate relief chased away all panic at having lost him, and Jazz smiled to show his relief.

"No, that is my name. What is yours?" Prowl didn't lower the pistol.

"What do you mean, who am I? We just met!" The relief of finding Prowl again was quickly becoming clouded by confusion, and a tinge of fear. Having a gun pointed at him for the second time in less than a half hour, by the same man, tended to induce fear.

Prowl frowned. "If you are referring to a meeting that happened some time in the last half hour, I'm afraid you'll have to introduce yourself again."

Jazz's expression likely conveyed his steadily-growing unease. Optimus hadn't said anything about memory loss in the briefing. Of course, he hadn't really said very much about Prowl's blackouts at all, saying he didn't feel comfortable talking about something Prowl considered private when he wasn't there, and that it was highly unlikely that he would have an episode anyway.

Well, he'd have to suggest that the Prime include all potentially relevant information in briefings from now on, regardless of the likelihood of it becoming relevant or how private Optimus felt the information was.

Okay, Prowl couldn't remember meeting Jazz fifteen minutes earlier, he was probably feeling a bit threatened or unnerved from the way he was gripping the handgun, and he had already seemed worn a bit thin from his day. That didn't exactly make it very easy on Jazz, who had just had his own mini rollercoaster of emotions.

Although it was probably a good thing Prowl didn't remember walking into his own home to find Jazz rooting through his kitchen in search of something to eat.

Before he began, Jazz cleared his throat and took a breath in an attempt to regain his calm. "Mah name's Jazz, and the Prahm said you could help meh wit' somethin'."

At this, Prowl loosed his death grip on the murder tool in his hand, but he didn't put it down or lower it at all. "Prime sent you?"

"Yeah, an' he said he'd told ya Ah was comin', or that he was gonna tell ya, or somethin'." Primus, it felt like a week ago that he'd spoken to the Prime, though it was really only a few hours. Panic would do that to a person.

Suspicion flashed through Prowl's eyes, before he hesitantly lowered the gun. Jazz was incredibly relieved that he was no longer in immediate danger of being shot because the man didn't believe him, though Prowl was still intimidating. "He did say he needed to tell me something when I was free for a minute. But there was an emergency and I didn't see him for the rest of the day." Prowl said this slowly, as though he were weighing the event against Jazz's claim.

Well that was easily solved. Prowl trusted Prime, right? "Ya could call him an' ask."

Prowl raised his chin a tiny bit, still obviously uncertain about Jazz. "Prime is likely asleep at this time."

"Then ya could call Ratchet. Ah jus' spoke ta him a little bit ago, so he's not asleep yet." Hopefully Prowl would call the medic instead of just deciding that Jazz was not trustworthy and shooting him. No, Jazz enjoyed being alive very much, perhaps even more so now that he'd met Prowl. For some reason he hoped he'd get along with the Enforcer, despite the current situation.

Meanwhile Prowl was mulling over his options and biting his bottom lip as he thought. His eyes never left Jazz's face, and Jazz was beginning to feel a bit embarrassed from the constant, steady attention. Eventually Prowl sighed and nodded, but added a firm "Stay where you are." before backing up to get to the phone. Jazz guessed the man still didn't trust him enough to let Jazz leave his sight, and to demonstrate his complacency Jazz crossed one leg over the other and assumed a very comfortable position.

Prowl only glared at the movement, but he did pick up the phone and dialed, so it was a start.

Four chapters in and I've only managed to cover about twenty minutes and maybe ten of the following morning. Hopefully next chapter my muse will come back and I'll be able to write something good and get a lot covered.

Or maybe not. I can always dream. Thanks to all who have favourited and followed and left yummy reviews. I love getting emails telling me people actually read my stuff. And thank you for reading.