Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers.

New chapter! Woot! All right, so I might be delayed a bit with this fic, as well as with "Idol Worship", because I want to partake in a contest on livejournal. It's at community./tficcontest/ so if you want to check that out, go for it. I don't really do contests and such, but I want to see if I can be told what to write and do a good job with it. That said, here's the newest chapter.

-Juana

Chapter Seven: Confessions and Other Fun Stuff

"Ugh…huwha…?"

My optics flicker back online as I move my head slightly, trying to shake the buzzing noise out and regain my senses. I feel as though my body has been broken into a million little shards and put back together clumsily. Each little movement I make sends sharp pain through my body, and it takes the best of my self-discipline to not cry out after each pang. I look around as best I can and note that I am in the medical bay of my Commander's ship; I have no recollection of how I got there.

Beside me lies Prowl, still unconscious and badly damaged. He has welding marks all over his arms, as well as a million scars, some still dripping with energon. We're both in some pretty bad shape, but I think he's worse off.

"Looks like one of 'em is back online," says someone behind me. I can't see who, but it sounds like Optimus Prime's medic, Ratchet. He comes around and places a hand on my chassis.

"Are you awake, Jazz? Can ya hear me?" I mumble something that even I can't make out, and he nods, as though he speaks fluent gibberish.

"Don't strain yerself, kid. You'll be fine. Prowl's okay too. Magnus will be here shortly to talk to you. He's been real worried, y'know. That bounty hunter business is some crazy slag. We've been tangled with 'im before. Not very fun, eh, Optimus?" I don't attempt a nod, although I would like to, and merely give a flicker of a smile as my response. Optimus Prime comes around to face me and asks if I'm all right. I give him my best smile, which is harder than it should be, and he smiles in return.

"Prowl is going to be fine. When Magnus gets back from his conference, he, Ratchet and I will tell you what happened. Prowl has been knocked out, but Ratchet predicts he'll be back online sometime this week. You two have been out for two days—two mega-cycles—already."

My optics widen—two mega-cycles? We've been off-line for two whole mega-cycles? How did that happen? I vividly remember dealing with Lockdown like it was a breem ago! Optimus can see the shock in my optics, and he says reassuringly,

"Don't worry, Jazz. Magnus will be here soon. Everything is fine, don't worry." I move to protest, but Ratchet places his hand on my chassis and says,

"Don't strain yerself, I said. Lie down and relax. That's an order, young 'bot." I sigh, exasperated and worried, but I obey. I'd rather not piss off the one responsible for keeping me and Prowl alive. So for the next three breems, we wait in silence. I'm rendered temporarily mute yet again, which is driving me bonkers, and I can only really stare at the wounds Prowl is sporting at the moment. They look extremely painful, but very clean. Ratchet must have done a pretty nice job with them.

After the third breem, more or less, Ultra Magnus enters the med bay and swiftly makes his way over to me.

"Jazz, thank Primus you're alive! We arrived almost too late, but we got him. There's no need to worry. Optimus, Ratchet, let's have our talk with Jazz, let him know what happened."

'Finally,' I think, but of course I say nothing. Magnus kneels beside me, waits for the others to gather 'round, then starts.

"After you sent us your alert, we got right to work. I alerted Optimus and his crew and we all raced down towards the lake. You were knocked out when we found you, and Prowl had nearly killed Lockdown, the bounty hunter."

"We needed Bulkhead to pull him off before he did, too," adds Ratchet, "otherwise the youngling would have actually killed Lockdown and caused all kinds of problems for us. We needed to interrogate that bastard, but he could barely speak after Prowl was through with him."

"Yes," says Magnus, "Once Prowl was off, Lockdown made a sad attempt to escape, trying to outrun us, but Bumblebee raced after him and knocked him down. They scuffled, and Bumblebee had an arm ripped off, but he's all right now. All patched up. Lockdown was apprehended by Optimus and Sentinel, and sedated by Ratchet. He's in the brig now, sedated every now and again and kept chained up. He's not going anywhere for a while."

I'm a little annoyed they all had to be here to tell me a fraction of a breems' worth of information, but whatever. I'm more concerned with the injuries Prowl has obtained, so I do my best to speak,

"Prowl…arm? Okay? Weld?" Ultra Magnus and Optimus both look at Ratchet, who rubs the back of his neck and says,

"That's not related to Lockdown, Jazz. That's something to ask him when he wakes up. For now, though, I've put him under. He sustained some head trauma during his fight with Lockdown, regardless of how one-sided it was. We'll talk about it later, since chances are you were gonna find out about it anyways. Right now, just be near him, and you'll both be fine."

And that is that. I'm close enough to him that I can reach out and brush my fingers against his hand, but in his medically induced comatose state, he doesn't react to my touch. I hold his fingers in mine and eventually, I fall into my own pattern of recharge. There is nothing left for me to do but recharge. Every once in a while, Ultra Magnus comes in to help me talk, an ability I regain after a mega-cycle or two, but that's about it.

After several mega-cycles of this, Prowl's fingers suddenly twitch in mine, and I alert Ratchet, who comes running over to check. Prowl's optics flicker on slowly. He turns to face look up at Ratchet, who smiles and says,

"Welcome home, ya crazy glitch."

"Ugh…where'm I?" His voice is scratchy and slow. He lifts a hand up to shield his optics from the artificial lights and turns his head to look at me.

"Jazz? Wha' happen?"

"Take it easy there, kid," says the medic, "just stay calm for now. You've been out for a few days after your little scuffle with Lockdown. He's locked away in the brig, you have nothin' to worry about. Although I gotta admit, you did quite a number on him. Now, just relax, I have to—"

"Sumdac!"

"Prowl, please. Just—"

"Sumdac! With Meg'tron…mines…." Ratchet looks over at me and says,

"What's he goin' on about? Did you two see Professor Sumdac?" I search my memory until it pops up. The little human waving to us in the background—that was someone they knew?!

"Yeah!" I exclaim, 'yeah, there was this little human waving to us, tryin' to get our attention. Who is he?"

"That," answers Ratchet, "is little Sari's creator, and the one who brought Megatron back to us. He's innocent, I swear it," he adds as I stare with a gaping mouth, "he was tricked by Megatron into helping him regain a body. Seems the big fragger himself kidnapped the guy. Prowl, hey, Prowl," he nudges Prowl a bit because it seems he's starting to nod off, "Where did you say you saw him?"

"His…under…ground…mines …Jazz?" I reach back over and grab his hand, squeezing gently.

"I'm here, sweetheart, don't you worry. We'll get that little human back. You okay?"

"Lockdown?"

"Locked up."

"Good." He leans his head back down and nearly passes out again, but Ratchet jolts him with a mild shock, earning a surprised cry from my darlin'.

"What's going on in there? Is he back online?" Optimus Prime's voice cuts through the air suddenly as he runs in, accompanied by Sentinel Prime and Ultra Magnus. Optimus kneels down next to Prowl and says,

"Hey you. Are you all right?"

"I know where Sumdac is." Well, he's speaking in complete sentences again, that's always a good sign. He recovers fast, evidently. Optimus leans in, interested.

"Where? Where is he?"

"The underground mines, apparently," answers Ratchet, cleaning some medical tool, "which means we'll have to ask Sari about them. Bumblebee knows them a bit too, but not very well. We'll have to treat this matter very delicately. We should look for—HEY! Get back on your berth, youngling!" Prowl suddenly sits up and jumps off his berth and starts to walk toward the exit.

"I have to see Lockdown," he says, but Optimus grabs his arm.

"We will talk to him. You need to stay right here, Prowl. You're not through healing just yet. Stay with Jazz, talk, just relax and listen to whatever Ratchet tells you. Don't get worked up over it. I'm glad you told me about it right away, I will deal with it, as will Ultra Magnus and Sentinel Prime."

"I have to go," protests Prowl, who leans forward again to get off the berth. He doubles over and clutches his right side, gasping in what seems to be searing pain. I carefully get off my own berth, much to the vexation of Ratchet, but I disregard it as I move over to Prowl and wrap my arms around him, comforting both of us, really. He tenses up, as I would expect, but he does not shove me off, nor does he protest being held in such a way in front of everyone.

After a few moments, he nods and says,

"Okay, Jazz. I'll stay, but only for you. Optimus, promise me you will tell me everything that happens, please. And do not let him out—I might kill him. Did he hurt Jazz?"

"I'm okay, baby," I answer with a squeeze, "and don't worry. These guys will take care of everything."

"I know," he answers. I let him go long enough so that he can climb back onto his berth, and then, I, like the crazy mech I am, jump right in with him, wrapping my arms around him and resting my chin in his shoulder. He leans into me and we sit there in silence, just happy to be together (and alive) again.

Sentinel cocks an eye ridge at us, most definitely surprised by the affection we're giving one another, shakes his head and says,

"All right, let's go to this…organic in need." Magnus replies,

"Yes. We'll need to question Lockdown again, and get any information we can. I'll send a team down to his ship to confiscate any vital information we could use. Let's move, boys." He walks out of the room, followed by Optimus, who waves goodbye to us, and Sentinel, who shoots us a dirty look. He obviously doesn't approve of our relationship, but I don't give a frag. Besides, I can take Sentinel on any time I want. He's no match for me, despite his size. He can be slow and arrogant, giving me the edge.

I let it go. I'm more focused on hugging my sweetheart.

"What did that fragger do to your arms, anyway?" I ask suddenly as my fingers dance over the wounds, "He use a welder or somethin'? Oh, wait…they said he didn't do that…well, then who did?" Prowl suddenly tenses up, as does the medic across from us, cleaning yet another tool. They both avoid optic contact, and I think I may have hit a nerve somewhere.

The medic, after a few quiet, tense moments, looks up and says, "He was askin' before, Prowl. I didn't tell him—it's not my place. You might as well tell him." Prowl shudders in my arms and answers,

"No. It's not important."

"Yes, it is," I say. "I'm curious. You might as well."

"You're going to hate me."

"Dammit, Prowl, he's not goin' to hate you fer somethin' ya did as an adolescent 'bot. We've all done things in our youngling period that we regret as adults."

"Prowl?" I ask with sudden concern lacing my vocals, "what happened? Did you hurt yourself on purpose?" His sigh tells me he did just that, and I can only squeeze him tighter.

"Please tell me," I half-beg, "I want to know why. Do you still—"

"NO. No. Jazz, I—" He stops as he turns his head to look at me. I retract my visor so that he can see the sadness in my optics. He resigns himself to me and says slowly,

"Very well. You must first promise you will tell no one, not the younglings, not the humans, no one. Not our friends, not our enemies, not even people you think you can trust with your life. No one else is allowed to know. The only reason Ratchet knows is because he's the medic, and the only reason Optimus knows is because he's my boss. That's it. Is that understood, Jazz?"

"I understand, sweetheart. You can trust me." Then, hesitation. Reluctance. He waits, I wait. He opens his mouth to speak, then shuts it, as though he really can't decide if he should say it or not. It takes him a breem to start the story, but once he starts, he doesn't stop.

"Like I told you before, I grew up in the village of Su. My only caretaker had been killed in a Decepticon suicide bombing there, and so the Master took me in. He did not adopt me, he merely allowed me to stay and train in the art of Circuit-Su. I became obsessed with it and the idea of being perfect, and I got sick because of it. I trained under Master Wildburner—"

"I remember him," I interrupt before letting him go on.

"He was a great mech," Prowl adds, casting his gaze upwards at the ceiling, "he was like a creator to me. My creator was dead, and my caretaker, my godfather, was dead. And Wildburner was alive. I guess I just latched onto him as some sort of adult influence in my life, but first I started to hurt myself. I began to slice myself with a shuriken I stole from him as a youngling when the pressure I placed on myself to be perfect began to stress me out, but it didn't last as long as it might have if he hadn't interfered. It was only a few days, thank Primus. It was unbearable, the feelings I held inside."

"You cut yourself?" I ask, somewhat taken aback—I hadn't seen any scars until a few mega-cycles ago, but before I can ask, he continues.

"Master Wildburner acted like a creator to me, and I loved it. I was getting attention from him, I was being hugged, and he would listen to me if I ever needed to talk things out. I hadn't had that before, so of course you can understand how I would do anything I could for more attention. Well, one night, I went a little too far. He was very busy during that time, focusing on paperwork, training, teaching several classes per mega-cycle, getting very little recharge and dealing with some other matters being brought to him from the city. He was stressed, and he didn't have time to spend with me. I hated it. Before I would have been able to handle being alone all the time, but after getting so much attention, I wasn't able to handle it."

He pauses for a moment, signaling the next part is going to be somewhat of a doozy. I squeeze him again, to tell him it's okay, that I won't judge him, so he continues on in a less-than-willing manner.

"So, one night, I tried to find some way to get his attention again. Remember, I was a youngling—I was too stupid and too selfish to find some other way to do it—so I stole a welder from a local shop and turned it up enough that it burned these ugly marks into my arms. He nearly had a spark attack when he saw what I did and wouldn't leave my side for twenty-seven mega-cycles until the medic he called in from New Iacon showed up. That's how I met Ratchet."

"Yep," answers the old medical 'bot, "I was called in, gave the kid a thorough examination and found the root of the behavior almost instantly."

"Wildburner was extremely upset and angry with me," Prowl continues, "He even yelled at me. I was so ashamed of myself that I used the welder again, but this time I kept it well hidden so he wouldn't know."

"And he never did," adds Ratchet, "he was killed in an accident while taking a trip to the city of New Iacon."

"Yes," sighs Prowl sadly, "I was so angry at that point. I wasn't ready to lose him. No one was. After word of his permanent deactivation reached Su, I just reverted back to hurting myself on a daily basis until Ratchet here took all my weapons away and dragged me to New Iacon with him. I never finished my training in Su, that's why I'm not as good as you, Jazz. Instead, I worked for Ratchet in his med bay until I was old enough to be on my own, but I stayed with him. We were assigned to work on the repair ship under Optimus Prime's command."

"So, wait" I cut in, "if you had all these scars and marks, why didn't I see them before?"

"Over-armor," Prowl says simply, "It's molded to my body so that it looks like it's actually my body, but it's just thin sheets of metal painted my color. No one has ever noticed. It doesn't get in my way, or hinder my performance while fighting. I can't believe they let you see me without it—I'm so ugly without it."

There is yet another tense silence in the room as I hold Prowl in my arms. No anger courses through me, but fear does. My arms tighten even more around him—if he were human, he would be 'suffocating' by now. I feel his anger at himself rising, and there's a sudden jolt in his system. Ratchet feels it too, because he stands up, walks over to us, kneels down and looks Prowl straight in the optic:

"NO. Relax. Remember what you learned from meditation. Don't even think about starting again. Talk to Jazz, you know he wouldn't want you to hurt yourself."

"I know, I know," said Prowl, pushing the medic away gently, "I just hate to think about it. Listen, I need to speak with Lockdown. Jazz, did he take anything from you?"

"No," I answer, "but I don't want you to go talk to him. Not yet. Let the others go first. You nearly deactivated him, you know."

"Oh?" says Prowl with a sarcastic tone in his vocals, "I 'nearly' deactivated him? My goal was to permanently deactivate him, not 'nearly' deactivate him. I think you can see why I need to go see him."

"Oh, no, baby. You're not doin' him in. Just chill out, okay? You know, you scared me that night. I saw somethin' in you, somethin' wicked, angry and scared. You were wild when you went after him."

"He was going to rape me, and he nearly off-lined you for good. I had a pretty good reason to defend us the way I did, Jazz."

"Perhaps," I agree, "but violence just isn't the answer. You know that, baby." He sighs again, and this time it starts to bug me. I look down at the berth we're on, noting it's large enough to hold us both if lay down, with room to spare. I shift my legs and pull him down with me so that we're laying face-to-face on our sides. He seems rather surprised, so I giggle and pull him into me, where I press my lips against his neck. He gasps and throws his arms around me, clearly enjoying the very sudden change of topic. Ratchet shakes his head, wearing a little grin and returns to cleaning his tools.

I start to babble like a sparkling to Prowl, to see what kind of reaction I'll get from him. He chuckles, then says,

"What in Primus' name are you saying? You're so strange, Jazz. You really are."

"I'm not strange!" I protest, "I'm in love! Is that so bad?"

"Not at all, darlin'."

"Are you makin' fun o' me?"

"Oh, no," he says as innocently as he can, "of course not! Wherever did you get such an idea, baby?" Oh, he's a cute one, all right. I lightly smack his head and whisper,

"I'm gonna bite you if you keep doin' that, sweetheart. I promise."

"Okay, Jazzy." Oh, he's just asking for it now. I hug him the tightest I've ever hugged him and laugh before kissing his neck and cheeks. Seems I've been teaching him a few things about being in love. He giggles and rubs the back of my neck, earning a purr of approval from me. I give him a light bite on the shoulder, and he nearly recoils, but quickly figures out that it wasn't meant to hurt.

"What do you call that? A love bite?"

"Yeah. You like it?"

"Mmmm….very much so. May I bite you?"

"Go for it, sweetheart." Prowl leans in closer to me and very gently, ever so lightly clamps his teeth on my shoulder, but I barely feel it. He's obviously afraid he'll hurt me, so I say,

"Harder, darlin'. Don't be afraid. You aren't going to hurt me." He obeys, and bites harder, maybe a little too hard. I hold in my yelp and say instead,

"Okay, maybe that was a little too hard. Here, like this:" I demonstrate the bite again, applying even, gentle pressure without causing pain, and he emulates the action. It takes a few tries, but eventually he gets it. We continue until Ratchet steps in to interfere.

"All right, you two, break it up. As wonderful as it is that you're in love, you're kliks away from interfacing right here, and I don't wanna be witness t' that. You need to avoid exerting yerselves anyways. Jazz, get back on your berth and get some rest. Prowl, I wanna examine that side of yours. Turn over…yes, let me see your right side, good…Jazz, get back on your berth!"

Yeah, I'm a stubborn aft-head, and I refuse to remove myself from my darlin'. Prowl is obeying the medic, which is a good thing, but I'd rather be with him.

"Ratchet, I promise I won't do anything. I just don't want to let him go. Please?"

"Get over to your own berth, or so help me I will knock you both out."

"Aw, doc," I protest, "come on! Don't be that way, just let me stay. I promise we won't interface. Besides, Prowl's too inexperienced for that just yet." The doc-bot glares at me, and I'm afraid I may have pissed him off with all my sparkling-like begging, but finally, he sighs and says evenly,

"If you promise to not get in my way and let me do my job, you can stay right here. But the moment I decide you're being a total nuisance, I'm kicking you off this berth and back onto your own. Got it?"

"Yes, sir."

"Don't call me 'sir'," he mumbles, barely audibly, but I ignore it, having no idea what it could possibly mean. He just sets straight to work, checking out an injury in Prowl's right side, and even going as far as slightly operating on it for a few breems. Ratchet's good: quite possibly one of the best medical 'bots I've ever watched in action. I'm impressed by his abilities.

I snuggle against Prowl, humming softly into his audios as Ratchet works, easing his tensed up body and earning a small hum in return. He's so innocent, so beautiful…it's hard to believe he nearly killed Lockdown a few days ago. I find myself falling deeper and deeper in love with him every time I look at him.

And despite what he says about his self-inflicted injuries, I still think, and will continue to think, that he is the most beautiful mech I've ever known.

Revieweth, please.

-Juana

PS. STAY SAFE.