Sixteen Cycles
On the first cycle, Prowl could only stare in disbelief at what he was hearing.
"I beg your pardon?"
"He and his team haven't returned." Prime said. "We'll be sending out a search party tonight."
The team returned the second cycle. Everyone except Jazz.
The medics came rushing in to retrieve the injured. The search party exchanged the injured mechs covered in dirt and mud. The Decepticons had left them for scrap. They only did that when they found something even more valuable. That valuable thing was Jazz.
Prowl began his plans on the third cycle. He wouldn't rest until they were perfect.
He sealed himself off in the battle room with only the best strategists. While the number of mechs shifted around, he remained through it all.
"You should go rest." they'd say.
Prowl would reply flatly, "No."
Through the fourth, fifth and sixth cycle he worked. He'd wake up, refuel, lock himself in the battle room, and go back to his quarters at around 2200 hours. It was a system that he'd developed long before he bonded to Jazz. In fact, Jazz was the one who made him change it.
As he continued to work, his plans got more and more daring. He drafted only the top soldiers in each department, like he always did. Only the best of the best could execute Prowl's plans.
He finished on the seventh cycle. His ideas were presented to Prime and the rest of the Officers.
They gave each other wary glances at the end of his presentation. Finally, Prime spoke up.
"What's the success rate, Prowl?" he asked.
"72%."
The glances only got more fearful. Prowl had never made plans with anything under an 80% success rate. But it made sense. These plans were daring in every way. They had to be to carry out a rescue mission like this.
Prowl and a team of soldiers left early on the eighth day. They needed to use the dark to their advantage. Prowl led his team to the Decepticons base and carried out his plan.
He was on edge the entire time. True, he had nearly everyone on base coming with him, but he couldn't shake the nagging feeling in his spark. There was only a 72% success rate, a 28% failure rate.
But there was also the chance that Jazz wasn't even online anymore. The Decepticons could've decided to offline him while they had the chance. Jazz, the third in command of the Autobots, a legendary saboteur, gone. It'd be a heavy blow on the Autobots if he was murdered. Chances are that Prowl would offline from the grief. More often than not, a widow's spark would extinguished from the over coming sorrow of losing their other half.
But if Jazz joined the allspark, Prowl would want to also.
The first few moments of the ninth cycle was one of the happiest Prowl had ever felt.
It was exactly 0001 when they were able to pry open the doors. On the other side would be Jazz.
Prowl could feel his spark already buzzing with longing. Ironhide was working to break the door down. He had to move quickly, the Decepticons knew the Autobots were there.
Finally, the doors flung open. Prowl's spark stopped at the sight.
Jazz was chained to the wall. His servos were bound behind him. He was slumped forward, the chains keeping him from hitting the ground completely. The black and white mech was now painted partially blue with his own energon. His metal was thrashed open, energon oozing out. He was trembling. Small whimpers escaped his lip plates as he instinctually shied away from the light.
Prowl cried his name and rushed to him. He pulled his mate into his embrace and muttered his name. Jazz, however, was easily startled at this point. He thrashed until he was free and began screaming. His visor flickered on and off, a sign he wasn't even seeing correctly.
"Jazz, please." Prowl said as he pinned Jazz against the wall.
Jazz calmed slightly at his voice. He panted heavily and froze, listening.
"Jazz." Prowl said again.
He turned his helm ever so slightly to look at his mate. "Prowl." he croaked.
Prowl took both servos and laid them on. Jazz' face plates. Jazz began to calm. He too reached out to his mate. But instead of the calculated touches Prowl demonstrated, Jazz's were sporadic. He could hardly see, so he just felt around until he found something.
Prowl took the back of his servo and pressed a kiss to it. Jazz shivered at the touch and leaned into Prowl's chassis.
Ratchet appeared behind the two and ran a quick scan on Jazz' frame. As Ratchet was reading it over, Prowl continued to calm Jazz even more.
Jazz was still whimpering and pawing at Prowl. Prowl could only assure him that he wasn't going anywhere to soothe him. Occasionally Jazz would mutter something. He'd only respond with reassuring words and comforting touches.
Ratchet administered painkillers and got to work. Prowl concentrated on Jazz, he kept him in a slight lull.
He was down on one knee and cradled Jazz against his frame. Jazz gently panted into his chassis. He was wracked with pain and Prowl knew it.
Prowl sat in the med bay on the tenth cycle.
Ratchet had worked many joors to stabilize Jazz. Prowl had waited patiently for his mate on the other side of the med bay doors. Now, he was allowed in.
The anesthetics kept Jazz in stasis for the most part. Every now and again he'd online briefly. When he did, Prowl would be there.
On the eleventh cycle, Ratchet put him into a complete stasis. There would be no more of him briefly onlining. Jazz would be in total silence, and until he awakened, so would Prowl.
Ratchet had tried to keep the reasoning away from Prowl, but eventually the mech's cold stares got the better of him.
"He onlined while you ran to your office yesterday." Ratchet spoke. "He was in a frenzy, could've harmed himself or someone else."
Prowl nodded curtly.
There was no expression from him. Prowl was even less expressive than before, if even possible. He knew that Jazz would hate to see him in such a state, but given the circumstances, it was for the best.
Ratchet laid a servo on his shoulder. "It's for the best."
On the twelfth cycle, Ratchet relieved Jazz of the stasis lock. Now, he could online if his systems wished to do so. However, it appeared that they didn't want to.
Jazz remained in the stasis-like state. Now, it was a waiting game. And wait Prowl did.
He waited all the way to the thirteenth cycle.
When Jazz did online, Prowl was there like he intended to be.
He stirred slightly, visor flickering. Prowl was hovering over him, optics hardened and focused. Jazz suddenly bolted upright before crying out in pain and shock. He flopped back onto the medical berth, now laying on his side.
"Jazz." Prowl said calmly yet sternly.
Jazz was panting from the pain. It appeared that Ratchet had really cut back on the pain killers.
Prowl laid his servo in Jazz', making him squeeze it tight. Jazz slowly drifted back into reality.
"Prowl?" he vented.
"I'm here." Prowl assured.
On both the fourteenth and fifteenth cycle, Ratchet monitored Jazz closely. Luckily, there were no changes in the wrong direction. For two cycles, Jazz made only tremendous strides in the right direction.
He clung to Prowl for most of it. Prime had granted Prowl a leave with out a second thought. If he didn't, Ratchet would surely have his helm on a stake.
Ratchet let Jazz leave the med bay to rest in his quarters on the sixteenth cycle. Prowl would still be bringing Jazz to the med bay daily.
It was evident that Jazz would progress much better if he wasn't surrounded by the constant uproar of the med bay. He was put under tremendous amounts of stress while in captivity, both mentally and physically. He needed a calm place to be with himself and with Prowl.
Now, he laid with Prowl in their berth. Prowl had moved their berth to the corner away from the door. Jazz liked to sleep facing the wall so he didn't have to online to a wide open room. Prowl would always be laying directly behind him, silently discouraging any sort of traumatic outbursts.