Devotion
Show me the path to find my way / and give me a reason to pray!
Godsmack
Very few mechs knew that Jazz was devoutly religious. He certainly didn't go out of his way to show it, and nobody really asked him about it. During the war, it seemed to be the last thing on any mech's mind. Jazz never did understand that.
Perhaps it was fitting that Prowl was the only mech who fully understood Jazz's beliefs. After all, Prowl was the only mech Jazz prayed for. Prowl was Jazz's reason for believing.
Only he and Prowl knew the truth about their previous creators. Jazz could faintly remember a time when he could see without the aid of his visor, before a fit of anger and a flash of agony stole that from him and left him in Iacon in the middle of a Cybertronian acid rain storm. He could barely remember that singular event, and it didn't take a genius to figure out what it meant.
He remembered what happened after that as if it had only occurred yesterday instead of a thousand years ago. Small hands grabbing his shoulders and dragging him to safety, even as the acid pelted his delicate doorwings. He remembered a sparkling's voice, even younger than him, speaking in clicks and beeps. He remembered those small hands feeling him over, determining the extent of his injuries. And Jazz responded in kind.
Prowl had saved him that day, the day that everything had changed. It took years for Jazz to fully comprehend the events of his life and come to a logical conclusion – or rather, logical for him, at any rate. Prowl would probably beg to differ.
Apparently Primus wanted him to live, because he gave him a reason to live. No matter how rough the battles or how many spybots he lost, the idea of giving up never crossed his processor. He couldn't give up. Prowl needed him as much as he needed Prowl.
Primus had given Prowl to Jazz to keep him sane, to keep him alive. The least Jazz could do in return was pray for Prowl's safety.
So when Ratchet called him into the med bay because a battle had gone horrifyingly wrong and Prowl was in critical condition, Jazz wasn't as worried as he should have been. He simply stood by Prowl's berth, watching the monitors with half-powered optics and holding Prowl's hand while he prayed.
Primus wanted Jazz to live. Jazz had to believe that. That meant Prowl had to live as well.
/---/
AN: Okay, so I'm not entirely pleased with this one. For one, it's slagging short again. For another, it sounds way too angsty for Jazz. Oh well. I guess a mech in his position is entitled to his angst. Was this over the top? Let me know what you think.