Title: Pain
Universe: G1
Warnings: may need tissues?
Summary: How does the spark recover when a piece of itself is lost?
Notes: A friend lent me a butt-load of cds tonight, among them some Josh Groban. My farm of bunnies really, REALLY like Josh Groban. I'm writing like a madwoman over here. This particular little bit was inspired by Mr. Groban's song Lullaby. I recommend listening to it.
There was nothing but the pain. No hope for another chance. No guilt that he might have done something wrong. No wonder as to why it had to happen. There was just pain, a sharp stabbing hurt that started at his spark and radiated outwards.
How could anyone live with this agony? How could anyone who experienced such anguish remain online? It was overwhelming, completely and totally debilitating. It consumed him – mentally, emotionally, physically. There was nothing else. He could not function. He had no reason to. He could not even remember why he had wanted to live before. Life – existence – seemed so empty. So meaningless.
"Jazz…"
A voice. So distant. So full of pain. Just like him.
"Jazz," it repeated. "Please… look at me."
His body was sluggish to respond. A gentle hand guided his chin. Dim optics barely registered the blurry form before him. His processors did not immediately recognize who it was, but his spark – what was left of it – knew instantly.
"Prowl," he sobbed. "Prowl, it hurts."
Arms, so strong and yet so gentle, wrapped around his shaking form.
"I know, Jazz," he whispered into Jazz's audio. "I know… I feel it too."
They stayed like that – for breems or for joors, it all felt like eternity to Jazz. An endless, pain-filled eternity.
"Jazz." The arms tightened around him. "We can always try again."
Something more than pain arose in him. Anger.
"I don't want to try again!" he shouted into his beloved's chest. "I wanted him!"
The arm's tightened still, this time to hold him down. Restrict him from thrashing about, from hitting him.
"I know, Jazz," Prowl soothed, voice still filled with pain, so much pain. "I did too, but Primus wanted –"
"Frag Primus!" Tears, strangely absent through all the pain, began flowing freely now. "What about what I want? I want my sparkling!"
Falling limp in the arms of his sparkbonded, all desire to fight leaving him, he cried. The tears would not stop. Tears for the life that had been extinguished before it had even had a chance to gain a body. Tears for himself and the agony his spark was in. Tears for the mate who shared his pain.
Prowl simply held him, tears of his own falling upon his mate's helm, wishing he could have the sparkling that had been taken away from them. Wishing the pain would leave. But most of all, wishing he had his mate back.