It was quite understandable that Jazz didn't notice that he was working himself into a heavy depression. If anyone asked, he'd reply with all honesty that he was doing pretty good - forget that he hadn't refuel in quite some time, and barely moved from his chosen closet of safety. Even being repeatedly dragged to the repair bay for checkups and questioning what was wrong didn't clue him in. In fact, the lovable silver Autobot only realized something was seriously wrong with him when, with a heavy spark, Scavenger offered to give Jazz one of his humans.
Jazz had to snicker at the way all present humans snapped their heads toward them in alarm. "Boss!" one of them exclaimed, sounding scandalized. The Decepticon looked between the human and Jazz, arms slouching and optics dimming guiltily. He wasn't too happy at the prospect of parting with one of his humans. But... Jazz liked humans; he didn't own any, never having occasion to acquire them, but, before his sudden dip into depression, he interacted with resident humans just as often, if not more, as with mechs. Scavenger figured that getting a friend of his own might do something to improve the Autobot's mood. Now however, confronted with obvious distress of his beloved pets, he hesitated. Unable to choose between upset humans and depressed Jazz, Scavenger unintentionally uttered a very unhappy chirr.
And this was what finally made Jazz realize there was a problem. Because, hell, if Scavenger was willing to 'sacrifice' this much just for the sake of cheering him up, then he must have been indeed far gone.
And that, now that he thought of that, was unacceptable. It was ridiculous for him, the happy-go-lucky, carefree Jazz to be this upset just because... um... okay, so perhaps having been killed was a legitimate reason to get a bit upset. But it has been going on for far too long.
So, in the spirit of getting himself up to par, as well as averting an impending family squabble, Jazz dredged up his famous, cheerful attitude and waved his hands frantically to get everyone's attention.
"Scavenger my mech, as much as I appreciate the offer, I couldn't go through life with the label 'Jazz the house wrecker'," he said. Several snickers sounded throughout the room, and Jazz's grin, although still a bit strained, widened.
In the weeks to follow Jazz worked hard, keeping a close optic on his own actions and reactions, and adjusting them to a simple WWDED rule. (What would Dead End do - do the opposite.) As a result, his grin got less and less strained, until at last Jazz felt himself in high enough spirit to throw a party to celebrate his divorce with depression. (Everyone got a good laugh at Rumble cursing up a storm at the dumb Autobot not wasting away and loosing him a bet).
After the hangover passed, Jazz smiled at the ceiling and considered himself back to normal. Although, there was one more thing left.
Every time he saw even a glimpse of Megatron, he inevitably felt as if the floor and walls crumbled around him, leaving him falling through the emptiness. To put it less dramatically, he was scared. This had to go too.
And so, one fine evening Megatron entered his quarters, and his good mood was shattered along with the silence with a furious growl of his vocalizer.
"YOU again?"
