Sideswipe and Sunstreaker had a routine with Jazz. At the end of each orn, once the second sun had set and the Seekers had retreated to their berths, they would use Sideswipe's jetpack to fly up to Jazz's window and creep through. They would spend a joor or two with the smaller mech, talking, teaching him whatever new game they had picked up, or just visiting. The orn following the party was certainly no exception to their long-lived tradition. Anxious to hear about his exploits at the Towers, they snuck into his room a little earlier than usual. Jazz was not there.
Unconcerned, they settled onto his berth to wait for him. (They didn't worry about one of the Seekers catching them; they never had any reason to come into the black and white's room.) It wasn't long before they heard shuffling footsteps ascending the stairs, and not long after that that the door opened, revealing the expected form of their friend, though not at all in the expected state.
"Jazz, what happened?" Sideswipe cried, appalled and dismayed. Jazz gave them a weary look.
"Whaddya mean?" he asked dully, pausing at the threshold.
"Your paint, for one thing," Sunstreaker growled. "I spend all that time on you, and you look like you've been run through a trash compactor!"
"Couldn't let them see me like that," Jazz said simply, stepping into his room and allowing the door to shut behind him. "They'd-a known somethin' was up."
"So what?" Sideswipe challenged. "What's the worst they would've done? Hit you? They already do that, Jazz."
Jazz just shook his helm, releasing a weak sigh.
"No reason t' provoke 'em inna it."
Sideswipe and Sunstreaker shared a look, expressing a sense of worry over their bond. Something was wrong. A weary Jazz they could understand; he often looked like he was recharging on his peds as he did now, a sign that he'd had a hard and tiring orn. A resigned Jazz, accepting of his status, while troubling, was also something they had grown accustomed to. But this Jazz was different. He seemed almost… submissive.
"Jazz…" Sunstreaker began tentatively, "are you okay?"
"'M fine," Jazz intoned listlessly.
"You sure?" Sideswipe pressed. "You don't seem like yourself."
"What 'm I supposed t' be?" Jazz inquired wanly. "Happy?"
"No, I – I mean, yes, you –"
"'M fine, Siders," Jazz interrupted. "Jus' tired. Can I talk t' you guys later? I jus' wanna get some recharge…"
Reluctantly, the Twins rose from his berth and made to leave. Sideswipe paused briefly to hug Jazz. The smaller mech just stood there limply, not even acknowledging his proximity. The red mech quickly let go.
The visits following that short and unusual one were not much better. Jazz's weariness pursued, and it seemed to extend all the way to his CPU. He said less and less as the orns went by. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker grew more and more concerned. They were glad, though, that enough of the Jazz they knew was coherent enough to let them in, physically if not emotionally.
And then, one night, his window was locked.
Hurt and more than a little worried, they left, telling themselves that he was merely more tired than usual and had already gone to recharge. But the next night, they were met with the same locked window. And again the night after that. And the night after that. And the night after that.
Half a deca-cycle had passed, and they had neither seen nor heard from their friend. They panicked. And in their panic, they did something they had not yet dared to do, something that Jazz, were he himself, would never have forgiven them for.
They went to Optimus and Elita.
Not even waiting for the sun, they rushed to their home, pounded on the door, shouted for them to wake up, and rushed inside once the sleepy and confused Senator finally answered their calls, startling an equally befuddled Elita. They refused to be pacified, refused to follow orders to calm down, and started in on their rant, talking over one another in their rush.
They told them everything. Why they rarely saw Jazz. Why he always seemed a little distant. Why he always seemed to be hiding something. Why his paint was always scratched and dull. Why he always sported at least a few dents.
They were met with stoic looks. None of this surprised the Senator or his bonded. It did hurt to hear it put so bluntly, to have their suspicions verbally confirmed, but there was no surprise.
At last, the Twins fell silent, staring at Optimus and Elita helplessly. Hopelessly.
"Why," Optimus began in a gentle tone, "do you come to us now? What has changed?"
"Jazz, he –" Sideswipe choked. "We haven't seen him for orns."
"He locked his window," Sunstreaker finished.
"You can't unlock it?" Elita pressed.
"Well, of course we can," Sideswipe said derisively.
"The point is he locked it," Sunstreaker scowled. "He's never done that before."
"I see," Optimus said pensively. He stared down at his laced hands for a moment before continuing, "You say he's been acting differently. How long?"
The Twins shared a look.
"Ever since he went to the Towers," Sunstreaker said.
"The orn after, we went to go see him," Sideswipe started.
"He was a wreck."
"Looked terrible."
"Acted worse."
"Like he'd just… given up."
They shared another look.
"He may not like his life," Sideswipe said tentatively.
"Who would?" Sunstreaker butted in brusquely.
"But for the most part," his red twin went on, "he was happy. The Jazz you see – it's not just a mask. That's the real him."
"When he's away from those three slaggers," Sunstreaker added, "he can let that real him show. He can actually be happy… even if he is hiding things."
Optimus and Elita shared a look of their own. Pain filtered through their bond as a shared thought was processed.
"There's nothing we can do," Optimus said aloud.
This was not the right answer. Not for the Twins. They bristled in outrage.
"There's gotta be something we can do!" Sideswipe shouted.
"Someone we could go to!" Sunstreaker growled.
"There is no one," Elita said firmly, cutting off further protests. "Jazz is of age. Unless he himself comes forth and admits discontent, the Seekers are free to go on living in his home."
"But what they're doing to him is wrong!" Sunstreaker said vehemently.
"There's gotta be some law," Sideswipe added. "Some law that –"
"Certainly there are laws," Optimus said gravely. "But we have no proof. Starscream and his brothers will deny any outright accusations. And if Jazz has gone this far to hide things, it's likely he will as well."
"So we sit on our afts and do nothing," Sunstreaker growled.
"No," Elita said, vocalizer crackling with emotion. "We pray to Primus something – or someone – will give Jazz the courage to change."
