PLEASE NOTE that this story has been heavily revised and reworked since the first version was posted. New material has been added, and a lot of the old stuff has been changed drastically.

Author's note: This is a story that I've had on my mind for quite a while but never got around to write until now. Slightly AU in that Jazz is a Decepticon, otherwise it's G1. Prowl/Jazz later on.

Warnings: Story contains slash.

Disclaimer: Transformers doesn't belong to me in any shape or way.

"I brought this. You can have it if you want."

He held out the book file to the prisoner, who glanced at it suspiciously, as if he expected it to be poisonous or perhaps explode in his hands when he touched it.

"It's a book file. Might give you something to do in here," the tactician explained to alleviate Jazz's obvious apprehension.

Jazz stared at the data pad in Prowl's hand for a few more astroseconds, and then, slowly, he reached for the offered object, his fingers closing around it with sudden determination. Perhaps he had just imagined it, but it seemed as if Jazz's visor lit up ever so slightly as he eyed the thing in his hands.

And perhaps that was also a figment of his imagination, but wasn't there the smallest of smiles tugging at the saboteur's lips as well?

Well, perhaps not. It was just a book file, after all.

A Complete Cybertronian History, Volume Nineteen – Battles in the North.

Well, it wouldn't have been his choice of book by any means, but it was better than nothing. Much better.

He was surprised to find out that he was actually enjoying it, too. Of course, it was written from Autobot perspective, but perhaps that was what made it all the more interesting. He already knew about some of the events described in the book, but this time they were written from a brand new point of view, which was enticing and thrilling at the same time.

Naturally, these kinds of books were banned among his own faction. Anything that deviated from the truth that the Decepticons ascribed to was forbidden, the possession of such material carrying varying penalties depending on the subject matter. This kind of book file would, of course, have incurred a stiff penalty, considering it dealt with war history.

He had to admit he was intrigued as his optics devoured page after page of what was in reality rather dull descriptions of an otherwise exciting subject. And it was interesting how he had never thought about some things. Not that he held the writings to be any sort of ultimate, unpolluted truth – far from it – but they offered a refreshing outlook on a subject matter that had always been painted in such black and white shadings.

He almost felt sad when it was finished.

Well, he might as well read it again. It wasn't as if he had anything else to occupy himself with in here.

"Besides, General Ironwill wouldn't have been able to take Polyhex if he hadn't had that Decepticon traitor to help him bring the city down from the inside."

"The surrounding cities were already Autobot-controlled. It would only have been a matter of time before Polyhex would have fallen as well, should the attack not had succeeded," the tactician countered.

How he had ended up in this discussion with the captive, Prowl wasn't sure. But here he was, having to defend the actions of some Autobot general that he was only marginally familiar with. Jazz must have studied the book file closely.

It amazed him how much the other liked to talk. In a way, it almost reminded him of...

No. Ridiculous. Jazz was nothing like... him. His bondmate had been a kind, warm-sparked mech, not a vicious Decepticon. It was preposterous to even think like that, and he immediately pushed the thought back to the deepest pits of his processor.

Alright then. Today's interrogation session was finished anyway, so he might as well leave and get some work done. Continuing to argue with Jazz over the correct interpretation of the battles of the Northern States under Emirate Zhaerex's rule would lead nowhere, interesting as it might have been.

Seeing the perturbed look on Jazz's face as he turned to leave, he was unable to stop the next words that came out of his vocalizer.

"I'll bring you a new book file next time," he promised, trying to sound casual and not caring about how Jazz's face lit up.

"Well, both me and Wheeljack already have monitor duty scheduled that day. Suppose we could fit in the weapon inventory check the day after, though."

Prowl looked down into his papers. Getting the upcoming month's shifts sorted out was always a pain in the aft, to say the least. Especially since there were always those who turned out to have other duties planned that they hadn't bothered to report beforehand, and so, Prowl's careful scheduling was ripped to pieces.

Probably, it would be easier just redoing it from scratch rather than trying to move things around. He sighed. Somehow, it always seemed like they were a couple of 'Bots short in order to fill in all of the assignments.

"The inventory check can't wait that long, I'm afraid." Prowl said with as much patience as he could muster. "Can you switch your monitor shift with the twins?"

"I suppose that would work."

"Good," Prowl said with a curt nod, quickly moving on to the next conflict on the schedule. If he could get this done before the joor was finished, it would probably be a new record.

Besides, he needed to write that intel report for their latest recognizance mission. Prime would definitely want to read that when he came back. There was also that unfinished report from yesterday still waiting for him in his office. Not to mention, he had his usual check-up to do on the prisoner. Perhaps he should bring him the next volume of A Complete Cybertronian History this time. Or perhaps something else entirely; giving Decepticon prisoners material that dealt with war history might not be wholly appropriate, even though offering their enemies another, less twisted perspective on things probably couldn't hurt. Perhaps something in the fiction department would be better. But then again, Jazz seemed to have liked the book file he had brought last time, so...

"Uh... Prowl?"

The tactician looked up from his schedule to meet with the questioning optics of his officers.

"I was wondering if it would be alright to move the security upgrade a couple of days? That way, we could fit in... "

"I'm sorry," Prowl interrupted, feeling slightly embarrassed for his inattention. "I must have glitched for a moment. Now, as for the security upgrade..."

Primus, could he really be so overworked that he would let his processor slip off like that? Then again, he had worked hard lately. Perhaps he should try to fit in an extra hour of recharge tonight.

"Oh, by the way." The tactician stopped in his tracks as he was about to leave, and fished around in his subspace pocket. His hand retracted holding a data pad, which he unceremoniously handed over to Jazz. "You might as well have this."

Whoa, and he had been certain that the tactician had forgotten about it. Not that Jazz would have said anything about it, though; it was hardly his place to remind his jailor of any previous promises made. He had to admit it was surprisingly... thoughtful for an Autobot.

And really, he knew he shouldn't be accepting something from the enemy that wasn't absolutely necessary for survival, but whoever had made up that rule had probably never been locked into a prison cell with nothing to do, being bored out of their mind.

Trying not to come off as overly eager, Jazz reached for the offered object. As he grabbed the book file, his hand brushed against the tactician's. It almost startled him how... warm... the brief touch felt, in comparison to the coldness of his cell, the floor, and the steel bars.

He could have sworn the other recoiled a little, but perhaps it was just his imagination. In any case, the tactician quickly turned on his heel and walked out of the cell.

"Thanks."

He didn't know if Prowl had heard him or not, but judging by the little twitch in his otherwise so straight posture, maybe he had.

It was strange how the hand that had brushed against Jazz's still felt like it was burning. It was illogical and irrational, to say the least. Such a quick, light... decisively unimportant touch, and yet his dermal plating was still prickling from it.

Distracted, he rubbed his other hand over the offending area, trying to get rid of the strange feeling. It didn't help.

Well, it seemed like his logical processor had decided to take a day off. That would be the only explanation. It would also explain why he had been so irrational as to offer Jazz the book file without demanding some information in exchange. The saboteur might even have agreed to it, for all he knew. It would have been the logical thing to do. What a tactician worth his name would have done.

And yet, the idea of requesting something in return somehow seemed wrong.

Annoyed at himself, he turned around the corner that led to his office, glad to step inside and get that intel report finished. Perhaps it would take his mind off these illogical other things.

Jazz was pacing his cell, waiting for Prowl to come around for the next interrogation session. As much as he didn't want to admit it, he had found himself almost looking forward to them. He had quickly realized that having someone to talk to, even if it was an Autobot, was vastly better than sitting alone in his cell. So he always participated in the conversations eagerly and freely gave his opinion on whatever subject Prowl brought up, doing his best to delay the inevitable moment when he would be left all alone and miserable again.

Also, he found Prowl to be quite an interesting mech, even though he wanted to admit that even less. Despite being a commanding officer, and highest in the command chain now that Optimus Prime wasn't around, he was the total opposite of Megatron.

While Jazz admired Megatron's leadership abilities and charisma, the Decepticon leader also had certain less admirable traits. Most noteworthy, Megatron had always been quick to anger and to let his emotions get the better of him. Setbacks, even minor ones, were often followed by angry outbursts, not seldom accompanied by more physical expressions of his anger.

Usually it tended to be Starscream who was the victim of these outbursts. As much as Jazz disliked the arrogant and overbearing air commander, even he couldn't sometimes help but feel sorry for Starscream when Megatron pounded into him, regardless of whether the Seeker was at fault for the situation at hand or not. Jazz had sometimes wondered though if Megatron's main reason for violently abusing Starscream or, more rarely, some other mech that had offended him, really was uncontrollable anger as much as it was a way of keeping his underlings in their place. Ruling by fear, to put in simple. Because who wasn't afraid, after having seen Megatron reduce his Second in Command to a crawling and pleading heap on the floor, that next time maybe it would be their turn, if they somehow failed to live up to expectations?

As for Jazz, he had long since gotten used to Megatron's harsh ways of leading his Decepticons. For him, it had become natural to think that that was how a leader behaved. Prowl, on the other hand, seemed to be the total opposite, and that intrigued him.

In a way, Prowl reminded him a little bit about Thundercracker with his brooding demeanor and composed behavior. He had a hard time imagining Prowl ever resorting to physically abusing any of the Autobots under his command. Yet from what he knew of the Autobots, Prowl was highly respected and no one questioned his position as a high-ranking officer. The thought was a bit alien to Jazz, being used to the Decepticon way where rank and respect was at least partly earned and upheld by physically intimidating one's comrades. If you didn't do that, somebody below you would soon challenge you for your position on the ladder.

But Prowl wasn't a mech to unnecessarily resort to violence. Not even towards his Decepticon captive, a fact for which Jazz was very much relieved.

He was surprised at that, though. Could Decepticon propaganda really have been so wrong about the Autobots? Lied so blatantly? Not that he had expected it to be wholly truthful, not by any means, but he couldn't help to wonder what else it had lied about? Those were disturbing questions that led straight onto a track that he had only rarely let his processor follow, since he knew what kind of territory it would tread on and what other questions it would raise.

Not quite willing to go there this time, his optics went to the little pile of book files that was leaning against the wall. He still had a couple of those left to read to pass the time.

It was better than nothing, but still, he would have much preferred it if Prowl had been here to talk to him instead, if only for a little while.

He halted his trail of thought. What?

Being locked into this cell was obviously making his processor glitch.

Prowl had to silently admit to himself that he found his conversation partner quite intriguing. He had used to think that Decepticons were all just a bunch of violent, vicious mechs who had been drawn to the Decepticon cause simply because it appealed to their evil nature. However, having spent a lot of time talking to Jazz, it had become clear that Jazz was not the fanatic 'Con that he had first thought. As twisted as Jazz's perceptions and logic sometimes were, it still seemed as if he wanted to believe that the cause he was fighting for was good, even if that probably wasn't a term he would have used himself to describe it. Perhaps "justified" would have been better.

Interesting was also the fact that while Jazz did feel a certain admiration for Megatron, it was not for the reasons that Prowl would have expected. He had just simply assumed that Megatron's brutality and viciousness was what made him revered among his fellow Decepticons, but Jazz's view seemed to be that these qualities were merely unfortunate, but unavoidable, accessories that came with being a strong leader. Instead it was Megatron's glorious visions of greatness and his resolution in making these come true that appealed to Jazz.

Yes, getting a window into the mind of a Decepticon was indeed an interesting thing. He had never had a conversation anything similar to this with a 'Con before. Normally, his verbal exchanges with members of the other faction only consisted of a trading of threats and insults as they engaged each other in battle.

It had actually been a while since the interrogations had stopped giving much useful information, but despite that he had continued to come here for further conversations with the talkative Decepticon. Perhaps Jazz wasn't a typical representative of his faction, but getting a Decepticon's view on things and understanding how they reasoned was still something that could be useful. That's why he kept coming back to visit the captive mech, engaging him in conversation.

At least, that was what he kept telling himself. Somewhere, though, in the deeper recesses of his processor, there was something else that wanted to resurface. Some tiny voice whispering to him that that was not the only reason. But despite its insistent pounding for attention, Prowl stubbornly refused to let that thought come out, refused to even acknowledge its presence.

Instead, he turned his concentration back to the discussion he was having with his prisoner.

"And what of the slaughter of the neutral city of Klaeth? How could that kind of ruthless massacre ever be justified in the name of Decepticon conquest?"

At this, there was a heavy silence, as Jazz lowered his optics to the floor, avoiding Prowl's gaze. For once, it seemed as if the saboteur didn't have an answer.

Wouldn't that have been the first time.

Before having time to ponder this any further, Prowl's was disrupted by his internal chronometer, alerting him that his next shift was coming up. He'd better round this off and get going. Or Bumblebee, his partner for the upcoming patrol duty, might suffer a processor crash from the shock of seeing the tactician late for a shift.

"We will continue this later," he said, turning to leave.

"So, Prowl?"

The tactician turned around, surprised. He didn't think Jazz had ever used his name before to address him.

"What's gonna happen to me eventually?" The saboteur had his head tilted slightly, an apprehensive look on his face. "Once your interrogations are finished? Am I going to be permanently off-lined, or what?"

Prowl stared at the saboteur for a while. Probably, Jazz had wanted to ask this for a long time, but having never managed to work up the courage until now. Sometimes there were things that one thought one might be better off not knowing at all.

Perhaps he should have informed Jazz earlier. Prisoner as he might be, it was still his right to know such a thing, wasn't it?

"No," he answered curtly. "We don't off-line prisoners. When Prime gets back, we will arrange for a guard to escort you back to Cybertron through the spacebridge. Once there, you will be taken to a prison camp for captured Deceptions."

Jazz merely nodded in understanding, his facial expression unchanging.

Prowl briefly wondered whether Jazz was relieved or not. Although the prospects of getting sent off to some prison camp were glum, surely it had to be preferable to sitting alone in a cell all day? At least he would be around some of his fellow Decepticons. To someone as sociable as Jazz, that had to count for a lot.

Well, he had a shift about to start. Leaving Jazz to silent contemplation, he exited the cell, trying to focus on the duties that lay ahead.