Title: Arranged by the Stars
Chapter Title: Chapter 4 The Fireworks
Fandom: G1 AU
Author: femme4jack
Pairing: Future Jazz/Prowl, past Optimus/Prowl, future Hound/Mirage, current Ironhide/Ratchet, future Ironhide/Ratchet/Wheeljack
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Slash (future pnp, tactile, spark), arranged sparkbonds, lots of liberties with G1 canon history, future mechpreg and sparklings (kindling new sparks, immediately framed, not carried, if that makes a difference for those who are squicked)
Summary: Some tempers explode, others are settled, and Prowl reveals rather spectacularly why he can't function logically when it comes to Jazz.
Notes: Written for the ProwlxJazz April 2011 challenge
::Text:: Comm chatter
Like the previous chapter, this is flashback. Sorry if that confused some folks in ch. 3. Also, so you won't be confused, I'm revising chapter 2 where Jazz tells Spike who the surviving Alphas are. They should be Mirage, Perceptor, Wheeljack, Starscream, andSkyfire. There is an additional Alpha, revealed in a circumspect manner in this chapter, whom Jazz did not list because the mech in question never received adult Alpha coding when he upgraded to his mech frame, and he hasn't regarded himself as one since joining the Autobots. Can you figure it out?

Arranged by the Stars 4: The Fireworks

Autobot Base, Iacon, Approximately 6-million years ago.

When the explosion came, it was not with shouts, but a fury of comm signals on the private channels that connected every Autobot with their Prime, channels normally used only in an emergency, or at Prime's initiative.

::Sir, I really don't think this is an appropriate topic for humor. I will make a better effort at tolerating Jazz's behavior, so long as he is not putting our faction, or you, at risk, but please do not joke about such things. Others might think you are being serious and I would not want word of this to leak to the rest of the base. The respect for the chain of command itself is at risk.::

::Um...Prime...sir, I'm not sure this is the best idea ... I mean ... I'm thrilled, but even I know that Mirage can't bond with someone who is lower ranked than he is. It will be torture on his coding, and ... he won't not be happy, sir. I couldn't stand being the source of my bondmate's unhappiness.::

::Are ya tryin' t' get me to defect back t' Megs, 'cause I have t' tell ya, even he aint this messed up in the processors. Maybe ya need t' have Ratchet take a look, Prime, 'cause there aint no way the Matrix would put me with that ... that ... tight aft, rule bound, meddlin' drone. If this is yer idea of a joke, ya need t' get a new humor subroutine, 'cause it aint funny!::

::May I be excused to get medbay ready to salvage the parts that will be left over when this finally settles down.::

::Wow, Prime, if you don't mind me saying to, those are some bold choices. I thought Ratchet and I were an explosive combination! Don't mind me, I'm going to just sit here in my corner and watch for a bit. I've always enjoyed combustion.::

Optimus serenely regarded them all, his battlemask up, only his optics betraying any emotion, which at this moment, was perfect confidence in what he had pronounced. He let each mech have his say, and responded only with a calm acknowledgement that he had received their transmission.

Mirage was the only one in the room who was not bombarding the closed channels. The chatter, accusations, sarcasm, confusion and outright anger came to a swift stop when the noble suddenly stood, his entire field fluctuating in suppressed emotion. Despite it, he gave an elegant bow.

"My Lord Prime," he began, his voice static-filled and even more formal than normal. "Permission to be dismissed for patrol."

"You are not scheduled for patrol duty until 2nd watch tomorrow," Prowl noted.

"Shu, mech, let 'm go," Jazz said softly, raising his visor to look at the spy, his blue optics full of concern.

"Mirage, be back on base by first watch, and do not engage any Decepticons on your own. I want you to report to me as soon as you return," Prime's voice carried the weight of the order in a tone that only a rare mech could resist. The voice itself seemed to settle Mirage on a level. The Alpha stood straight and proud, and nodded his head in acceptance.

"I will report to you at first watch, my Lord Prime, and I will not engage any enemy." He gave another bow before adding in a darker tone, "Provided they do not engage me first."

"Do not provoke that attack, Mirage," Prime warned as he stood and walked over to the still slightly trembling frame and placed his hands on the elegant blue and white mech's shoulders. "It is important that you come back in one piece. You must trust me."

The un-Alpha like intimacy of the touch was too much for the spy. There was a collective gasp of vents as he tore himself away from Optimus's large hands with a pained keen and literally launched himself into his alt form, fleeing from the chamber. Prowl and Ratchet's chevrons both raised in shocked surprise, knowing the depth of coding-conflict such deliberate defiance must have caused the Alpha.

"Well, that went well,"

Jazz grumbled, sliding from the corner of Prime's desk to the floor with a gust of air from his vents.

"He simply needs some time to adjust to the idea," Prime said sadly. "Hound, your spark is as noble as any Alpha's. Give him time to adjust his coding."

"That's rather optimistic, Prime," Jazz objected. "There's only one mech Mirage's codin' will allow himself t' feel right 'bout bondin' with. Ya merged with him. Ya have t' know he volunteered for this believin' he'd be bondin' with you 'cause it's his sparkright. He was built for ya, for Primus-sake. He believed with his whole spark the Matrix would agree."

Prime frowned, rubbing his forehelm thoughtfully. "I am well aware of what Mirage believed would happen. The Matrix was unequivocal about this. Mirage must bond with Hound, not only for the sake of those they will kindle, but for the sake of our society. The Alphas are no more. All are Alphas now, and having the first of the bondings be between a high ranked Alpha and a working-caste mech will secure that in every mech's processors. Every spark from Primus is noble, and our coding must adjust. Otherwise, Megatron is correct about us; we are simply relics from a past that no longer has the right to function."

"That's a real spark, out there," Jazz snapped, "with codin' conflicts deeper than the sonic canyons. No matter what he was built for, ya have no right just t' use him t' make a cultural point."

"Jazz, you agreed this was a good plan," Optimus began.

"I agreed this was a good plan when it was about creatin' new life, creatin' a reason for us t' fight a losin' battle, mech!" Jazz hissed, his engine revving in anger. He turned toward the door, and stopped at its closed threshold. "I didn't agree t' see mechs forced together who are gonna make the other miserable for the rest of their functionin' - ya picked the one mech for Hound even he couldn't make happy! All ya had t' do was pick someone higher ranked than 'Raj, didn't even have to be an Alpha. Prowl or me or any one of the seniors would've settled his codin' and he'd be fine!"

"Where are you going, Jazz?" Optimus asked patiently, compassion and far too much understand reflected in the optics Jazz refused to meet.

"I'm gonna follow my SIC, make sure he doesn't do anything t' extinguish his spark. I'm the only one who can follow 'im without 'im knowin'."

"You have not been dismissed..." Prowl began.

"Rust you, Prowl! Don't ya start with me!" the saboteur growled, his optics flashing their former red before his visor slid back into place with cold finality. He stalked out of Prime's office, leaving a stunned silence in his wake. They had all witnessed many surprises from the former Decepticon over the vorns, but never had watched him tell off his Prime ... at least not in front of others.

Attention then turned to Hound, who looked absolutely stricken, his armor compressed and field radiating distress, clearly wishing he were anywhere but in that particular office with its current company.

"Hound," Optimus began, "please do not take Jazz's outburst to spark. It was far more about his anger at the matrix's choice for himself than it was about Mirage."

"That may be true, but Jazz is right, sir," Hound said, sinking lower in his seat. "I can't process this working. I'm not gonna force myself on someone who'll be miserable 'cause of me, no matter how much I might want to create and mentor. I worked among Alphas for most of my functioning before the war. He'll do this because you order it, because that is what he's coded to do, but every orn will feel like an offense to his very spark. He has no more control over that than I have over my guardian coding."

"Not necessarily," Wheeljack spoke up, walking over to kneel next to the scout's chair, placing a hand on the thick green arm. "We Alphas have quite a bit more control over our core code than many let on. There is an inherent flexibility that comes with being kindled as a sparkling, even if most of us failed to recognize just how helpful that flexibility could be before it was too late."

"Mirage can change the subroutines that will object to the bond," the engineer continued in a tone that was optimism personified. "He is just going to be stubborn about it. More than any of us survivors, he grieves the loss not just of his clade, but Alpha culture itself. Simply being an Autobot, being anything other than the consort and aid to Prime, or another high placed mech, would conflict with his Alpha code, yet he functions as Prime's premier spy every orn, believes it is the will of Primus and the right thing to do. He rewrote his code to allow that. You and Prime can convince him of this, too. Give him some time to sort out his emotions, to sort out what is code and what is spark. You'll be good for him, help him let go of things that he's got to let go if he's ever going to do more than simply function."

Prime hid a smile behind his mask, not only at the engineer's sensitive and perceptive words, but also at the surprised look on Ratchet's faceplates as he noticed, perhaps for the first time, that Wheeljack was something more than an annoying nuisance who used up far too many of his precious supplies.

Hound, meanwhile, had straightened at the engineer's words, his armor flaring slightly in pride. "I suppose that is possible," he admitted. "It makes sense, considering what I know of Alpha sparklings. Before they upgraded into their mechling frames and got their adult code, they were surprisingly flexible and creative about things."

Wheeljack nodded, leaning in closer as though he were revealing a secret to Hound alone. "It is a miserable, pit-spawned upgrade; so miserable that a few of us figured out ways around it and never had the adult Alpha code integrated into our systems," his finials flashed yellow with amusement. "Why don't you come back to my lab for a cube, and I'll tell you a few more secrets about the Alphas that will help you out with him."

Hound looked eagerly to Prime for permission and received a nod in response. "Hound, I will summon you again after I have had a chance to speak alone with Mirage. Wheeljack is correct, and the Matrix concurs. You will be good for Mirage, and he will be good for you. I commend your patience and understanding as he sorts that out."

"Of course, sir!" Hound said warmly, his hopeful demeanor returning full force as he followed Wheeljack out the door.

It left only Ratchet and Prowl. The former was staring thoughtfully at the door that had just closed, his optics betraying his confusion and surprise at the engineer's behavior. The second was sitting with his usual stiff formality, as though this were any other staff meeting, and not one that threatened to drive his entire functioning to the pit.

After a few awkward nanokliks, Ratchet stood. "Well, I think I'll check on Hide. Those Matrix-merges can really take their toll. You sure you're feeling alright, Prime?"

"I am quite well. Please, check on Ironhide," Prime said softly, his optics locked on Prowl as the red and white mech left through the door that led to Prime's quarters rather than the corridor.

As soon as the the door slid shut, Prowl slumped in his seat, his sensor wings drooping and trembling with suppressed emotions that could finally be revealed now that he was alone with his Prime. Optimus stood, walked around his desk, and retracted his battle mask as he knelt, much like Wheeljack had done with Hound, to be optic level with his executive officer. "Say it," he commanded with a resonance that went right through his SIC's frame to his spark.

"Why?" came Prowl's static-filled hiss, laden with more emotion than any mech on base save Optimus knew he was even capable of. "Why would you do this to me," he said louder, stunned betrayal in his tone.

"Prowl," Optimus said gently, the designation expressing more than any other words could of just how much he cared for and respected the mech in front of him.

"I kept my promise, Prime," Prowl continued, sensor panels and chevron twitching in agitation. "I never told anyone what I knew. I've worked with him as you asked, and have never done a thing to compromise the trust that others have in him. But how could you ask this? Of me? When you know what it costs me simply to function on the same base as him without taking his spark."

Optimus reached out and put one hand on his SIC's, picking it up and stroking it with a level of physical intimacy that would have shocked the Alphas who were no longer functioning to keep their Prime in line. Prowl stiffened and pulled his own hand back, pushing himself away from the massive mech and standing, his sensor wings moving with more agitation than Prime had ever seen.

"I don't need another youngling to mentor, Prime. Bluestreak may have upgraded to mechling, but he still clings to me as much as he did when I found him. And you would ask me to bond...to kindle with one of the mechs responsible for infiltrating - How could you?" he growled, his battle subroutines roaring online in rage, a shocking charge rushing his systems that stunned him with its intensity, surging through his logic center and shorting it out as he collapsed into Prime's ready arms. Ratchet immediately entered, having gone no further than the other side of the door at Prime's silent order, and helped settle the Praxian on the floor.

"His logic completely fails him when it comes to that mech," Ratchet said quietly.

"With good reason," Prime quietly responded, his mask up once again to hide his worried frown.