Love
I'm coming home
I'm coming home
I'm coming home
Release me my love
So I'll stay unforgiven
And I'll keep love together
And I'll be yours forever
I'll sleep close to heaven
I'll sleep close to heaven
I'll sleep close to heaven
Close to Heaven~ Breaking Benjamin
Unending wind froze his armor. The valley where he had landed had been showing signs of thawing but the mountain remained frigid and treacherous.
He'd been through worse.
Cold fingers found the shape of a sturdy rock and he climbed higher. Flurries of ice whipped around him whether being kicked up from hidden recesses beneath rocks or falling new from the sky was impossible to tell. He paused breathing hard, a warning chimed in his HUD, he was losing heat fast. Exhaustion sapped at his strength as well. The three kels it had taken to get to Cybertron he'd spent in stasis. The Monster hadn't let him be until he'd reached Cybertron and the computer brought him out of the darkness and nightmares.
Flexing his stiff toes and fingers he continued up, optics on the precipice. He'd been making good time lower on the mountain where heavy evergreen trees blocked the wind, but once he'd left their boughs the wind had been intent on ripping him off the face of the mountain. He couldn't see anything below him now, clouds heavy with snow and ice wrapped around the mountain like a cloak.
Claws dug deep into the ice and rock and his feet kicked uselessly against the mountain trying to find enough leverage to swing himself up. He couldn't feel any part of his body anymore. Gasping and trying to bully his half frozen body the last few meters he silenced another alarm about his core temperature. His feet slipped and the sudden jerk almost unanchored his claws. A dizzying drop opened up beneath him, the valley impossible to see through ice and snow swirling in the air. What if this was the wrong mountain? He couldn't make it down, not alive. What if Prowl didn't want to see him? His spark stuttered at that. What if he was mad?
"A little early for tourists," a crisp femme voice said. By the time he lifted his head enough to see who spoke he was being hauled up. He found himself staring at the light grey sky seconds later, safe on the plateau. A Praxian femme and mech leaned over him raising their wings to block the wind and obscuring their faces in shadow. The femme's wings were slender and curved like scythes. The mech's were broader and the wind buffeted them like sails.
Jazz shivered on the ground, colder than he'd ever been, systems no longer warning him about shutting down but actually doing it. "Prowl," he whispered. He hoped they heard he wasn't sure he could speak any louder. The mech's head tilted as Jazz's vision began to fuzz and blacken at the edges. "Prowl."
He woke up still chilled but no longer cold to the point of pain. Rolling onto his side he paused before getting up. Running his hand over the smooth moon white stone under him he activated sensors out of habit. No information on the glassy surface came to him. No information whatsoever came to him. Startled, he was on his feet in a second. With his sensor net disabled he couldn't afford to be surprised in a vulnerable position. He spun a circle looking for an exit or for other occupants. The circular room was the same smooth white in every direction. Small golden orbs that flickered like fire but didn't give off smoke were suspended along the walls at varying heights. Shadows danced and darted along the walls and the floor and he did his best to ignore them.
Be at peace a soft femme voice whispered coming from every direction. He hissed, hand reaching for a knife, and audios straining to figure out where the PA system was. There is no danger the voice whispered again.
"Where am I?" Jazz asked, his voice didn't echo in the empty room.
Where you need to be
"Where's Prowl?" If the Decepticons had captured him they would have gone after Prowl, too. Didn't matter if he'd been replaced, Megatron would kill him for sport after the vorns Prowl had stood against him like a seawall.
Laughter soft and with true humor answered him. Prowl Dreams with the others. You must wait for him. You must be patient. You must wait. With the final word the room began to darken, shadows rushing in and spreading over the white room like ink. Jazz backed away from them, and pulled out his knife but nothing sprang at him from the darkness. It washed over him like a wave and dragged him under.
He woke up in an unfamiliar room and finally warm. His optics refused to focus at first leaving everything in blurred brushstrokes of color. A processor ache socked him directly between the optics and he groaned softly. His warm body came alive with dull aches and sharp pains. Groaning again he let the pain wash over him until the initial rush could be sorted into categories such as "Ow" and "Slag" and "What-The-Frag-Did-I-Do".
A soft knock preceded the door cracking open "Still alive?" a young femme asked peeking in and opening the door wider when she saw he was awake. His limbs were still heavy and clumsy from the cold but his fingers found a knife sheathed on his leg and curled around it.
"Where am I?" Jazz asked, voice a little slurred and not liking one bit he didn't know where he was or how he'd gotten here. When he'd left his shuttle just outside of a little settlement before scaling the mountain there hadn't been a soul around. Now he could hear heavy steps coming and going and doors opening and closing. He still had his knives with him and his blaster but it still irked him he'd been so far gone he couldn't remember where he had been or how he'd gotten from there to here.
The femme fluffed her wings. "Tar'xian, base of the third An'Shar mountain. This is Migration Lodge. Little traveler lodge. You feelin' all right? Not often someone goes up in the winter an' comes down still breathing." Her musical accent took him a second to unscramble but when it did he looked around the room decorated in dark wood.
"Where…where was I before? I wasn't here. The room was…circular? Big, white, little orbs or candles on the walls." He looked out the window thinking he had seen something outside that could influence a dream. The femme looked startled.
"You saw…you were in a white room?" she whispered. "Stone? White stone?"
"Femme," Jazz said. "Usually I'm pretty likeable, but I wanna know what's going on and how the frag I got here. Now." Her wings folded forward over her shoulders and she dipped her head once.
"Sorry, my name's Drifting Leaves. The mechs who brought you in said they found you near one of the shrines a fathom up the mountain, we all thought you'd'a found your way down by yourself." Her wings pulled back again and she smiled, nodding to the berthside table. He saw a mug of something steaming and immediately distrusted it. "They brought you here and the doctor's had'a look at you. Said you had'a bad bit o' freezin', but you'll be right as spring with good food. Which we got plenty of." She flashed him a bright smile.
"That still doesn't tell me anything about the room I was in. I know it wasn't a dream, I was there, I felt it. I remember it." His hand brushed his empty hip compartment. "Did anyone find my ship? I wasn't anywhere near Tar'xian, I was…Ling…Ling-Bei, that's what the sign said. Looked deserted."
"Ling-Bei, it was, it's a summer camp for traders, be a kel or so 'fore anymech heads there. Lucky then you came down the other side or you'd'a be very dead." Despite her lilting words her tone was serious. "An' that room…it sounds like you were Dreaming," Drifting Leaves said in a hushed voice, her wings shifted and actually sounded a bit like leaves scattered by the wind. "I…I didn't know anyone outside of the An'Shar could Dream."
"I don't know what you're talking about?" Jazz remembered Prowl saying something about dreaming but he hadn't thought it was anything.
Drifting Leaves walked further into the room and sat cross legged on the floor with her pale brown and gold wings fanned out behind her. "Dreaming is what the An'Shar call their visions when they meet with their gods." She paused and her wings swished across the floor. "They don't talk about it much, but when they do they mention a room o' white stone. I think…I don't know, I've never Dreamed 'fore…but I think it's some sort of reception hall where you're greeted by the god who wants to see you. I never heard anyone else talk 'bout that room. I didn't think anyone outside of the An'Shar could Dream." She looked at him with unfiltered curiosity. "You must be important."
Jazz's rough laugh filled the room. "I'm just a rundown soldier, nothing special there." She got to her feet with a smile he recognized rife with gossip. His plans of laying low until he found Prowl were about to be catapulted out the window. The breem she left the room he had probably a septorn to get back up the mountain before the Ark made landing and maybe an orn or two after that for them to find their way to the lodge. "Hey, Drifting Leaves," he said before she could bounce out of the room and blow his cover. "How long until the mountain thaws?"
She tilted her head to the side. "The mountains never really thaw. They just…get a bit more survivable? It'll be a septorn 'fore even the sturdiest and suicidal traders start their trip up."
Jazz bit back a wince and a curse. "Thanks. Oh, hey, this is the mountain Shimku's on, right?" He almost hoped he was wrong, at least then he could skip town during the night and lay low elsewhere for a septorn.
Drifting Leaves nodded, "Shimku, Chiisukai, Iyaseru, and Hoi are all on this mountain." A small frown furrowed her brow. "Shimku's the highest, most don't try for that one until the ground is ready for planting." She looked him over with more concern. "You were lucky once, I wou'n't try that high for a couple o' septorns, at least." She gave him another small smile and swept out of the room her wings rustling against the door.
Jazz fell back with a muffled groan. He needed to find a way to get a message to Prowl. His fingers still ached with remembered cold and his toes still weren't talking to him. "Not the best idea," he told himself and that was the last time he'd ever question how cold something could get. Reaching over for the mug he sipped a little tasting it for foreign contaminants, poisons, and sedatives out of habit. It was sweet but with a spicy bite that lingered and warmed but he didn't down it all. He took a couple more sips and set it aside to wait and see if there were any side effects. If this kept up he was going to be in worse shape than Red Alert.
His spark kicked when he thought of Red Alert. He had to get to Prowl, not only for his sanity, but for Red Alert's too. The mech had no business being tossed away like that. He was glitchy and sometimes he was a pain in the aft with all his security, but the mech's job was to keep them safe and secure and by Primus, the mech kept them safe and secure. Decepticons didn't breach Autobot bases, which was why prisoners and hostages were so fragging valuable to them. Jazz and his team practically walked into Decepticon bases, didn't matter how much security they had, because Decepticons colored inside the lines. Red Alert didn't even color on the same page, he drew on the walls and the floor and, if Prowl let him, he'd paint the ceiling too. Learning to live with his glitch was hardly a price to pay for that kind of security. His team relied on Red Alert's intuitive knowledge of security to stay alive when breaching unknown bases. The glitches they'd gotten to replace Red Alert were standard issue. In a vorn the Decepticons would be tearing through their bases as easily as they tore through those and then the Autobots really would be in a smelter.
Shaking his head he took a breath and looked a bit more around the room. The scarce furniture was roughhewn though not like the fancy hotels at reserves where mechs paid a vorn of wages for one night for a faux camping experience. Jazz was willing to bet all the furniture was handmade and as old as the inn. The floor was worn in places, mostly near the berth and in front of the door where thousands of steps had worn the boards a shade lighter than the rest of the room. It was cozy and had he not had an army en route to truss him up on AWOL charges he would have enjoyed the small quiet space.
Sliding out of the berth he stretched his body a limb at a time feeling every cut and bruise from the climb. He had a septorn before he could make the climb again and he probably had a septorn or less before the Ark was in orbit. It would be tight, but he was certain he was the only one that had even a vague idea of where Prowl's home was.
oOo
Blaster crept through the halls breath coming and going in unsteady bursts. No one looked at him, they didn't even look at each other. Quiet noise from the environmental control that he never noticed before was a never ending hum against his teeth.
Nobody wants you
Nobody likes
Everyone hates you
Even Jazz left you
Bye, bye, gone, gone
He kept his head down, the tile under his feet blurring in and out of focus fluctuating with the noise in his head. He couldn't hear his own voice pushing back against them anymore. He couldn't remember what his voice sounded like. He reached for Steeljaw and Eject, trying to remember what he sounded like but they didn't respond. He couldn't remember what they sounded like either.
Tattletale, tattletale
Who will miss you
Jazz ran away from you
Just like your creators
Orphan
No one wants you
Mechs and femmes flowed around him, never looking or touching, never saying a word. The halls were quiet. But everything was so loud.
oOo
Jazz slid into the common room on the first floor. Mechs and femmes sat at scattered tables with food and drinks in front of them either hunched forward in serious conversation or sprawled out and laughing. The missing gap in his memory still made his plates itch but he'd spent the night trying to get his memory banks to spit it out to no avail. The warm spiced drink in his room had woken his appetite, though, and he was looking forward to trying a Praxian dish or two before he got tossed in the brig.
He found an unoccupied table in a corner and sat down with a quiet sigh. He felt a little better being out of the room. The mood in the common room was relaxed and upbeat and he adjusted his body language accordingly. Migration Lodge wore its age well. Instead of feeling rickety or overbearing it was homey, cozy. The high beams crisscrossing the ceiling still looked as rough as they did the orn they were cut, but the rest of the furniture was worn silk smooth. Soft recessed lights in the ceiling gave off enough light to see by but kept the shadows close.
A Praxian holding several pitchers spotted him without anything in front of him and made his way over, refilling as he went. "You need anything?" he asked in the same lilting accent Drifting Leaves had used.
Jazz slipped into his good natured persona without conscious thought. "Don't know, never been to Praxus before. Anything you recommend?"
The mech's green optics lit up and Jazz felt like he'd just walked into a financial minefield. Good thing he was a mech who liked to save his credits instead of spending them on every shiny thing that caught his optic. "Our winter dish is marinated usagi with roots and broad leaf greens."
Part of the dish sounded really good and Jazz's tanks rumbled. He got to eat real food more often than others onboard the Ark since he had to follow targets and blend in, but he still treated it as a novelty. "Not much for meat, but the roots and greens sound good," he told the mech.
The Praxian blinked and brought his wings down close around his shoulders before raising them again. Jazz guessed it was some form of apology, he'd never seen Prowl make the gesture before. "I'm sorry, I forgot. Polyhexians are rare this far north. Would you like some dark bread as well?"
Jazz nodded and the mech poured him a glass before slipping through the tables to the kitchen to put in Jazz's meal. Jazz sipped the drink, it was different from what he'd had upstairs, sweeter. He took only a few sips before setting it aside. He stared at a TV on across the room showing up to date weather information. Another storm was brewing and from the captions on the screen the temperatures that were going to hit the mountaintop during the night would make the cold he experienced seem downright balmy. Biting back a curse he let his optics wander over the mixed bag of mechs and femmes in the room. Most looked like traders and merchants from other parts of Praxus, but there were also Gygaxians, Kaonians, and surprisingly he saw an Ahnkmorian. He sat by himself at the bar and no one tried to talk to him. Little surprise. Ahnkmorians preferred dry and smelter-like heat. The cold was probably making him crankier than Ratchet with a hangover.
The holoscreen flashed and the weather dropped off. Very few gave the screen a second glance when Jazz's face popped up on the screen with AWOL charges posted beneath. He kept his irritation in check. Any reaction to the news could draw attention to him in his quiet corner. There were only a few in the room that took notice of the weather information interruption and none of them had looked at him. So long as he didn't give them a reason to remember his face, they wouldn't.
After a breem the channel flipped back and Jazz started breathing again. At least Magnus hadn't posted his name with the picture. Or maybe he'd wanted to and Solaris, as always, was watching his back. He owed the old Poly several rounds of drinks for the last vorn. Maybe when the Ark caught up to him he could pay his debt before being tossed in the brig.
The lodge's heavy front door opened and the mech and femme coming in were preceded by a gust of wind so cold Jazz's plates locked down and his toes ached. A tall femme with scythe-like curved black wings walked in like a queen. Her measured steps were silent and graceful and her optics were such a dark purple they were almost black. The room fell into a hush in seconds upon her entering. She surveyed everyone in the same expressionless way Prowl often evaluated new mechs. Her frame was just as curved as her wings, she reminded Jazz of the mountain; sharp and cold.
The mech that followed her in was more amicable. His pale green optics were wider, not sparkling wide, but less shrewd than the femme's. A small smile turned up the corner of his mouth as he watched everyone else in the room surreptitiously glance at the femme. He shook snow and ice from his broad blue-grey wings and shut the door cutting off the frigid wind. The mech who had taken his order came out from the back, followed by Drifting Leaves, to see why the room had fallen so quiet. They both stopped and blinked in surprise until the blue-grey mech laughed. The femme huffed softly but she stopped trying to stare through every mech and femme in the room. Like a switch had been flipped, conversations restarted and the pair were almost immediately ignored.
Drifting Leaves went around the mech who kept his wings close to his shoulders in a shy way. Even she seemed a little shy when she spoke to the blue-grey mech. Their conversation was brief and when it ended Drifting Leaves skipped back to the kitchen with her wings high with excitement.
Jazz watched the interaction with distracted interest. He couldn't force the mountain to thaw faster or slow the Ark so he was stuck in limbo until nature ran its course. His attention on the present moment sharpened with the mech and femme walked through the maze of tables to his. They didn't amble or pretend like they were looking for a less crowded table, of which there were several by the door, they came directly for him. Jazz flicked his optics over their frames not losing his relaxed position in his chair. They didn't look like bounty hunters and weren't carrying visible weapons, but then again, he didn't look like an assassin.
The mech and femme sat down without feigned polite introductions or other platitudes. "Be at peace," the femme said. Jazz tried not to stare them down but familiarity clawed at him. He needed to remember why.
"It's not often someone famous comes through Praxus," the mech said with a smile full of mischief. Jazz blinked but let an easy smile spread on his face while he tried to figure out who they were and why they were with him. Amateur bounty hunters were his best guess; rookies just starting out who didn't know enough to research their target before approaching. If Jazz didn't kill them quickly someone else would slowly.
Drifting Leaves approached the table with small steps, curiosity burning in her optics but she bowed her head respectfully and set down Jazz's dinner as well as drinks for the mech and femme. The mech flashed her a smile with genuine mirth and she giggled before hightailing it back to the kitchen where a couple others were looking out at the table. "You two own the place?" Jazz asked. He needed to get out and back to his ship. Too many people were looking at him now, someone would see the AWOL charge circulating on the network and recognize him. But before he could start playing hide n' seek, he had to get the bounty hunters off his tail.
The femme canted her head. "Owning would imply a purchase." She and Jazz stared at each other for a long moment, Jazz a little off balance by the strange answer. She didn't seem fazed at all by him and Jazz reassessed his situation. Pushing all the information his sensor net was feeding him to the back of his mind he focused on the two of them as they presented themselves. The predator came to the fore and sized up how much trouble he was in. The mech was utterly relaxed. There was no tightness around his optics, his wings were low on his shoulders and his limbs weren't positioned in a way he could quickly grab a weapon. The femme wasn't as loose with her posture or limbs, but she too was relaxed. They knew him and they were unafraid.
The weather report flipped again to a picture of his face and Jazz bit back a snarl. Without looking at the screen the femme said, "You have quite a lot of mechs looking for you." Jazz kept his breathing slow but his spark pulse jumped. He'd been wrong, careless. They weren't the amateurs they set themselves up to be.
"And the one I want looking for me isn't anymore," he said without thinking. He had to get out of the lodge and get back up the mountain, cold or not. His ship was likely compromised. He needed to disappear completely.
The femme's mostly impassive features shifted to soft sorrow. It made her look younger, gentler. "You would be surprised at how long and how far one will search for forgiveness," she said in a soft voice. Her optics shifted to the wall behind Jazz and lost some of their sharp focus. "Even if it was never needed." The mech's cheerful demeanor dimmed and he looked to the door.
The femme blinked and some of the brusqueness returned. The mech threw back the rest of his drink. "Spring may yet come early if it can be coaxed," he said. He stood, his wings seemed bigger than everyone else's in the room. The few close enough to hear the comment perked up and angled their heads more to hear anything else he said.
"No," the femme said without inflection. "Spring will come when She is due and not before." Those listening sighed but lost interest in the conversation after that. "Stay off the mountain until your guide arrives," she told Jazz staring directly into his optics. "You will find what you are searching for, but you must wait."
"And how do you know I'm looking for anything," Jazz said dropping all pretenses of politeness, a snarl creeping into his voice. A smile curved the femme's mouth but she didn't answer only finished her drink and stood without another word.
"You must wait. You must be patient," the mech said before he and the femme turned and left. Jazz stared after them no idea if he needed to run or go back to his room for a couple joors of recharge. He'd heard the same words in his weird dream. And the femme said a guide was coming? His spark skipped a beat. Prowl had seen the AWOL charge, he knew he was nearby but with the mountain frozen he couldn't come down.
He took his first true breath in kels. A septorn, according to Drifting Leaves, until anyone would risk coming or going from the An'Shar. He could be patient.
oOo
Wheeljack put the schematics up on the holoscreen. "Honestly Prime, I can't make anything out of it." He flipped through the screens showing Shockwave's detailed measurements and notes about constructing his newest weapon. Ratchet had been thinking it would be something more diabolical looking since it had almost cost them Jazz to get the plans. But the boxy device was nondescript. "I thought at first it was a spotlight given the number of reflective lenses he has crammed in it, but this little crystal right here—" Wheeljack zoomed in on a tiny crystal smaller than Ratchet's pinky "—this will concentrate the light to a single beam. It could be a new ship breach device. It would be extremely effective at that, but the heat energy released is going to be ridiculously high." He sighed and his fins flashed once in irritation. Shockwave was horribly detailed with his schematics, not so much with the purpose which is what made predicting him so difficult.
"Anti-aircraft?" Ironhide rumbled. "Is it powerful enough to hit an engine from the ground or cause hull damage?"
"Snipers, ground troops," Solaris added, sharp optics running over the schematics as fast as Wheeljack's. "Something like that mounted on a ship could take out an entire front line."
Wheeljack's face fell a little more with each suggestion. His thoughts never wandered deep into how many casualties something could inflict. The damage he dreamed of always applied to technology. "Yes," he said softly. "It would be effective against snipers, but I don't think it has the devastating power to take out an entire unit or to even bring down a gunship. Light craft can certainly be damaged, but the weapons we have now can bring one of those down with a good shot. It's far too small for to be a hazard to heavy ships. If he made a bigger one, maybe, but like I said, the heat output on this thing is incredibly high. If it gets any bigger he's going to risk melting the lenses."
Ratchet rubbed his optics, rechargeless nights slowing his quick mind to a crawl. The Twins were more feral now than they'd ever been, creeping through the halls like wounded animals and attacking anymech who wandered too close. He was beginning to think if the Twins made it off the ship when they reached Cybertron no one would ever see them again. A processor ache that had started half a kel ago and never really left reared up again. The high grade was calling to him but First Aid was adrift on the ship. With Bumblebee sticking close to Hound and Trailbreaker as fighting became more common and the Twins hostile, he was alone and frightened.
oOo
Drifting Leaves turned out to be his worst enemy and best friend while he waited for the mountain to thaw. He knew within a joor when the Ark came in to orbit, but everyone in Tar'xian knew he'd survived the mountain. If the crew took the time to listen to the local gossip they'd find him in an orn.
Restlessness gnawed at him but he couldn't let it show. He was already a minor celebrity what with his near death experience and his chat with the odd femme and mech. He hadn't seen them since and no one had spoken about them. He'd tried to ask about them once but Drifting Leaves had clammed up for the first time since he met her. That alone gave him idea of how powerful they were. But if the two were that important he couldn't believe their faces weren't on a poster somewhere or they weren't talked about either with malice or favor.
Jazz sat at his table in the corner staring into the distance musing over the mystery duo. A large frame coming toward him brought him out of his reverie. The Ahnkmorian he'd noticed his first orn at Migration Lodge sat down across from him. "Still lookin' to go up the mountain?" he asked in a rougher accent than Ratchet's. Jazz nodded once, slowly. He hadn't spoken to the Ahnkmorian at all, they hadn't even looked at each other. "I'm only going to Chiisukai, not as high as Shimku where you're goin', but my partner's late an' I'm on a schedule."
"When you plannin' on leaving?" Jazz asked.
The Ahnkmorian snorted, "First light, you manage a sun schedule?"
Jazz almost laughed. His nocturnal schedule was helpful but he had to switch back and forth if he wanted to keep up with the rest of the crew. Instead he nodded. "I'll meet you at the door."
He stayed at his table for the rest of the orn so he wouldn't be tempted to take a nap and slip back into a nocturnal schedule. He passed his time sipping the sweet drink the inn served and watching more and more traders trudging in.
By the time evening arrived Migration Lodge was packed. Jazz already knew he'd be taking dinner in his room. He didn't mind the noise and bodies, but he wasn't in the mood to make small talk and his table would certainly be filled. He couldn't believe the inn was still accepting guests. Already tables were beginning to fill and pack together. More chairs were brought out from the back for the larger tables.
The door opened again bringing a sharp bite of wind but instead of the pack of traders that had been coming in there was only one mech. One step in the door and Jazz knew it was Solaris. He didn't hide or call attention to himself. Solaris found him before the door was shut and made his way over to the table in seconds. "How long you laid up?" he asked with his sharp optics roving over the room cataloguing everyone and everything in it. He could probably walk from one side of the room to the other blindfolded. Nothing got past him.
"Leaving at first light," Jazz answered softly. "Where're the rest of them?"
Solaris snorted and, satisfied he knew where every nail in the room was, turned his attention to Jazz. "Checking with the local jails first, then they're going to start looking along the borders, then they'll start checking lodges and inns." Jazz rolled his optics, but as long as they were wasting time doing all that he had plenty of lead to get up the mountain. Unless someone said something directly to the other officers they would be occupied chasing their tails for another few orns. "You always the talk of town when you land?" Solaris asked without accusation.
Jazz grimaced. "Apparently you can't just climb the mountains whenever you feel like it." Solaris gave him a Well-No-Frag look and Jazz threw up his hands and sat back in his chair. "Din't know that. I spent half a vorn in Kaon and figured it couldn't get much colder than that." Solaris barked a laugh and Jazz sulked.
Solaris gave Jazz a rough rub between his horns like he would a juvenile. "I can't stay, mechling. Magnus doesn't keep track of me much, but Ratchet at least knows I have the best chance of finding you." Jazz smoothed his ruffled plates and nodded.
Since his creators had died the old XOps soldiers had filled some of the void. "Solaris," Jazz said before the old Poly could get up. "Did I mess up?" he asked softly. Unfamiliar self-doubt clouded his thoughts. Maybe he was being a sparkling throwing a tantrum. Maybe it was time he retired as well.
Solaris reached out and cupped his cheek with uncharacteristic gentleness. "No, mechling. Doesn't matter if the rest of the world is burning, you know what you need to do, so get it done." He let go and stood, walking for the door without looking back.
Jazz checked his chronometer and stood as well. He had to get some sleep before tackling the homicidal mountain with the Ahnkmorian.
Jazz and the Ahnkmorian reached the common room about the same time the next morning and Jazz was glad their definitions of "first light" were the same. He was in no mood to wait even a few breems. The Ark was nearby and a careless tongue during the night could have the officers already trekking their way to Migration Lodge. The Ahnkmorian gave him an appreciative nod and led the way to the door.
The Ahnkmorian's idea of a "light" load was about half Jazz's total weight in dried medicinal plants. Jazz couldn't complain because the Ahnkmorian hefted a pack twice the size of Jazz's on his back and strode toward the massive tree that marked the trail's beginning.
Jazz like to pride himself on his physical prowess. Polyhexians were small to begin with but he was the size of a juvenile. He'd worked his Primus given aft off in basic to not only keep up with the others but to exceed them as a point of pride. Now he had to do it just so he could keep coming back alive. But before Tar'xian was even out of sight he started to feel winded. The trail was rough with rocks and fallen branches and slick from ice and ice melt. The Ahnkmorian didn't look back at him and he was thankful for that. If he heard any stupid words of encouragement or cajoling he was likely to kill him and hike the rest of the way without the damn pack.
Mid-orn the Ahnkmorian called for a short break. Jazz tried not to collapse but he still hit the ground hard. The Ahnkmorian looked a little winded but not on the brink of overheating like Jazz. At least the exertion kept his frame warm so he was less likely to freeze. "How far is this place?" Jazz asked when he wasn't gasping. Draining half a canteen of water in one pull made him feel a little better but he wasn't looking forward to picking up the pack again.
The Ahnkmorian made a sound that might have been a laugh or a grunt. "You've got another full orn ahead of you."
"You sure the other mech is running late and not running in the other direction?"
The sound the Ahnkmorian made was definitely a laugh. Instead of answering he told Jazz to grab his pack. "We've got another four fathoms to get through before we'll have flat enough ground to camp."
The thought of camp and a solid eight joors of sleep spurred Jazz on. The trail that had been difficult at the beginning started to become downright deadly the higher they climbed. Rivulets of water splashed down the trail and on either side of them as warm weather crept up the mountain melting snow and ice. Trees still stiff from the long cold creaked and cracked in the wind as their sap thawed. The crisp scent of cold mud and water made the hike a bit more tolerable for him. He couldn't imagine doing the trek without the scent and sound of water. He was too hot while there was still snow on the ground, were it any warmer he probably would have passed out already.
As the suns set they reached a shallow overhang and the Ahnkmorian dropped his pack with a relieved sigh. Jazz set his down as well and dropped to the ground like he'd been shot, breathing hard. "Primus," he said. He was still irritated the Ahnkmorian wasn't on the ground with him trying to breathe. "You know, if we'd had to do this in basic, I would'a quit," he said between breaths.
The Ahnkmorian laughed while he opened his ration of energon. "We'll be at Chiisukai this time tomorrow." Jazz struggled to sit up and pull out his own ration of energon. He was exhausted and starving and he could already feel how tight his legs and shoulders were. But once they reached Chiisukai he'd be halfway to Prowl. And he didn't have to carry the pack to Prowl.
He woke the next morning when the Ahnkmorian stood up which told him just how deep he'd been in recharge. Normally he knew a mech was awake before they did more than roll over. He blinked and lifted his head looking around the small overhang with a ghost of wonder and confusion. He'd had his energon and passed out where he sat the night before and it felt like he might have actually recharged through the night. He couldn't remember waking or any nightmares. Groaning as he got to his feet he did his best to stretch as he stood.
Early in the morning, the water that had been running down the mountain the previous orn was still frozen in glittering slicks all over the trail, or what he assumed was the trail. The Ahnkmorian wound his way around boulders and ever smaller trees and bushes. Wind whistled through the trees gaining strength the higher they climbed. Digging in with his clawed feet he tried to walk in the Ahnkmorian's deeper prints. His feet weren't meant for mountain climbing, they were smooth to cut down on resistance while swimming. Stepping on an ice patch the wrong way would be a quick ticket back to the bottom of the mountain and, if he survived, a good kel of recovery in a hospital.
By the time the suns were directly overhead they left the shelter of the trees and had only boulders and the craggily skin of the mountain for shelter from the wind. Even the hard climb couldn't keep his limbs completely warm. His toes started to go numb first where he kept jamming them into the ice crusted ground for traction. He kept his optics on the ground one step ahead of him as wind tore at his pack and made his load feel even heavier. Even the Ahnkmorian slowed a pace as the wind howled.
There were no mid-orn breaks, although there weren't any places to really shelter from the wind. Jazz was certain if he stopped he would freeze in place. He couldn't feel his hands or legs and his horns started to ache from the constant assault of cold wind. The pack felt heavier than the boulders they passed and his ragged gasps punctuated the lulls between gusts of wind.
Jazz didn't realize he was on level ground until he almost fell on his face when he leaned too far forward. The suns were low in the sky and the wind was so cold it felt like he was burning. The Ahnkmorian made a relieved sound Jazz had no energy to decipher, but he lifted his head. Passing between two massive boulders that had been carved into pyramids and painted dark evergreen he looked around the Ahnkmorian and found a normal town in the middle of the mountain's freezing Pit.
Praxians greeted the Ahnkmorian once they were past the pyramids and helped him unshoulder his pack. They spoke the common trade language and Jazz followed the conversation with ease. The Ahnkmorian seemed to be older than he had thought since the Praxians fussed over him about the cold and his age. Jazz didn't want to think about how ridiculous he looked with his small pack, still in his prime, huffing and wheezing.
"Welcome to Chiisukai," a Praxian said with a warm smile. He couldn't tell if he was looking at a mech or femme but the voice seemed more like a femme. With dark green wings she kept partially extended over her shoulders to protect from the cold she looked a bit larger than the other Praxians. Bright gold optics that offset her dark green coloring looked Jazz up and down with uninhibited interest. "We must get you out of the cold." She turned to a Praxian mech and said a quick sentence in her native tongue. "After some warm food you have to tell me about your journey, I want to know everything that's happened," she said with giddy joy. A dark cloud passed over the setting suns bringing premature night. She made an irritated sound and fluffed her wings like Smokescreen did when Jazz didn't cooperate. "Fine," she huffed. "Anyway," she said with another smile at Jazz, "Food, then rest."
The mech took his bag and Jazz almost fell over in relief. The mech grinned knowingly and beckoned for Jazz and the Ahnkmorian to follow. Without the pack's weight Jazz started to feel a little better, but night's chill sapped at his stamina. Still, he marveled at the network of business and housing the Praxians had literally carved out of the mountain. Store fronts were marked by awnings securely attached to stone pillars and bright lights burned in the doorways leading back into the heart of the mountain. Some of the residents swept windblown debris from their doorstep like they would anywhere else, except Jazz couldn't feel his feet or hands and the temperature was still dropping.
The mech led them to an inn with a sign written in the trade language as well as Praxian and whatever the An'Shar spoke. Passing through the awning the wind dropped off almost immediately and Jazz let out a long relieved breath. The Ahnkmorian sighed as well and shook himself from head to foot.
The inn was similar to Migration Lodge in how old it felt, but there the similarities ended. There was little wood used, seats were carved into the walls and flat topped rocks made up the tables. Tiny orbs of light that reminded him of his odd dream hung from the ceiling glowing with steady solar light. Jazz and the Ahnkmorian sat at a table with matching sighs. The jewel colored cushions they sat on added light to the closed space.
Before Jazz's fingers had warmed back to feeling two steaming mugs were set in front of them by the same mech that had led them in. Jazz immediately wrapped his hands around the mug but didn't down the brew. It smelled spicy and the steam made his nasal passages tickle. Unlike Migration Lodge, the inn was quiet with only a few mechs and femmes in eating and talking. "They all traders?" he asked the Ahnkmorian when he felt his tongue was no longer frozen to the roof of his mouth.
The Ahnkmorian looked around the room once and shook his head. "No, they're from Chiisukai. There's not a lot of room up here for restaurants, holovid showings, or anything else you get on flat ground. Inns like this are where An'Shar socialize. If it's a really special occasion they'll head down the mountain and eat at a proper restaurant, but for the most part they just come here." The Praxian mech returned with two clay bowls and set them down before bustling off to greet a few other Praxians walking in. The hot aroma of stew made Jazz's tanks rumble. He didn't recognize any of the roots or vegetables but the spices were familiar. Praxian spices were more expensive than the ones grown in Polyhex, but there wasn't a kitchen that didn't have at least one little container of their shellfish seasoning. No one did spices like Praxus.
"Add a lil' lagostim an' it'd taste just like home," he said between mouthfuls. "They have to trade for these spices?" he asked. He was going to have more questions for Prowl than Bluestreak.
The Ahnkmorian ate a bit more and said, "They trade a little, a lot of them they can grow up here once the weather gets the glitch outta its circuits." Jazz was hard pressed to believe it actually got warmer while the wind howled outside. "They do a little farming too, but that's just in the lower settlements. You get up into Shimku and Akarisan and those higher places and they do have to trade for anything they can't hunt. Stays too cold too long and even their summer feels more like early spring." Jazz let that soak in while he finished his stew.
"There was a femme who wanted to hear about the trip up," he said when they were both finished. He didn't see her distinctive dark green in the few Praxians scattered about. The Ahnkmorian canted his head with a confused frown. "Well, might've been a mech, hard to tell. But she seemed pretty excited to see us." The Praxian mech came by to take their dishes.
"I didn't see her," the Ahnkmorian said with a dismissive shrug.
Jazz blinked. "You didn't? She stood next to you while she was talking to me. Dark green, gold optics." The Praxian laughed softly as he picked up the dishes and walked away.
The Ahnkmorian shook his head. "Didn't see her, but my optics were just about froze shut." And, Jazz had to remind himself, normal mechs didn't catalogue everyone they met. The Ahnkmorian was more concerned with unloading his goods and getting back down the mountain for another load than he was making small talk with every Praxian he met. Jazz let the subject pass but kept an optic on the Praxian mech flitting around tables bringing food and taking away dishes. He knew something about the dark green femme.
He had every intention of finding the mech and questioning him after the inn settled for the night but between the cold and the long hike he barely made it to his berth before passing out. His disjointed dreams blurred together. Voices spoke around him, arguing, and he dreamed the dark green femme sat next to him and tried to tell him something until the black femme from Migration Lodge pulled her up and pushed her out the door. The blue-grey mech from Migration Lodge stood near his head watching the scene unfold with exasperation that came from witnessing the same thing over and over again. The black femme gave Jazz a fleeting look of sadness before her wings faded to shadows and spread to cover the room in darkness. The dark green femme appeared again, optics glowing brighter than the suns and her dark wings just as ethereal as the black femme's. "You need to run," she said staring directly at Jazz. The black femme made an angry sound and they both disappeared in a flash of light.
Jazz woke gasping for breath and disoriented. He was still in his berth, hand on a knife but the unsettling feeling that he was in danger sent his spark racing. Shaking his head he tried to calm his breathing so he could think. It was easy to get swept up in panic and paranoia when he knew there was someone looking for him. It was a rookie mistake to give in to the urges. He was high up the mountain with a solid two orns of lead, maybe more since he'd been with the Ahnkmorian who knew the path to Chiisukai well. Still, the panic lingered. The dream had felt real the dark green femme's warning still echoed in his head.
Sheathing his knife he stood and checked the time. Almost dawn. He hadn't planned to leave Chiisukai for another orn or two so he could recover from the hike and get directions to Shimku. But the dream had brought on an itch for a change of scenery.
He expected the common room to be quiet and dark with the early joor. Instead, there were a few lamps lit and half a dozen Praxians sitting at tables talking and laughing quietly. Jazz slowed his walk to a crawl as he tried to make sense of what he was seeing. One or two awake to receive more merchants he could understand but none of the mechs and femmes looked like they were working.
"Would you like some breakfast?" the same mech from the night before asked. Jazz made a sound that might have been an affirmative or a question. The mech smiled and with a little laugh said, "We've been Dreaming for kels, recharge isn't necessary the first septorn we wake."
"Probably too early to eat for me," Jazz said after he processed that. Maybe Prowl wasn't so much a workaholic but that he just didn't need to recharge like other mechs. The mech led him to a table away from the crowd and Jazz didn't turn down the warm drink he offered.
"You know the green femme that was talking to me last night?" Jazz asked when he sat the drink down. The mech gave him a small smile that spoke of mischief and secrets. His optics sparked with humor and he nodded once. "She important? I haven't seen her since and she wanted to know how the trip was."
"I don't know where she's gone, but I know she isn't far," the mech said before whisking away before Jazz could ask more questions. Jazz was a little irritated by the non-answer but his head was still muzzy from the dream. He didn't need to be interrogating anyone when he could just as easily slip out something that didn't need to be said. Sipping his drink he tried to find some rationale to combat the prickly sense that he was going to get caught before he left Chiisukai.
oOo
Not long after the sun rose and the inn started to fill with more Praxians getting breakfast a juvenile fluttered in. "We found four mechs lost further down," he told one of the older adults. "High Wind is bringing them up but they're all about half frozen." Several of the adults stood and followed the juvenile out the door. Jazz stopped breathing for a full breem before he forced his intakes to work. He flagged down a femme carrying a pitcher and asked for brief directions to Shimku. She gave him an odd look but told him the way. It sounded easy enough in words but the wind still whistled outside. Throwing down some credits, Jazz headed for the door.
He stuck to the shortening shadows as he made his way to the entrance. The news of the four lost mechs had brought out most of the town as they gathered near the pyramids with medics at the front.
There was no way he was getting through the throng without someone noticing so he backtracked to a place where he could climb the rough mountain. The way the town was made, where he climbed acted as both a wind break and an excellent look out point. He could see a small group trudging toward the settlement led by a juvenile with sun yellow wings. Optimus' and Magnus' distinctive coloring stood out almost as much as the juvenile's.
Spark pounding, he started climbing.
He had to climb through the night, he had nothing to make a shelter and the temperature dropped so fast and so far if he stopped even to catch his breath his limbs started to stiffen. His natural nocturnal optics made the path clear but the going was slow. Each step felt like he was trying to push the mountain up instead of just climbing it.
By the time the suns started to rise he couldn't remember if he was on the trail anymore or if he was just going to wander until he froze to death. A shadow passed over him and a rustle of wings made him lift his head. The blue-grey mech from Migration Lodge stood on the trail ahead of him. "Well you've come this far, no reason to stop now." Jazz realized he wasn't moving anymore, he was almost frozen mid-step. Dragging his back foot forward he restarted his laborious climb. The mech's figure wavered and disappeared.
oOo
Jazz came up to a large arched gateway painted glistening black that spanned the narrow opening in the mountain. He didn't know if it was Shimku and he didn't really care. He wanted to be warm. Through the arch he could see small lights burning in structures built directly into the mountain face. A Praxian unfurled her wings where she'd been still as a piece of rock herself and stood. "You can't be up this high," she said without inflection. She sounded just like Prowl when he was explaining the rules to new crew members. The familiarity almost made his optics fill with fluid. "Your lines will freeze, you must go back down the mountain."
Jazz shook his head stiffly. "Prowl," he said softly. "I'm looking for Prowl." The words came in short halting breaths that didn't fog the air in front of him. The femme tilted her head to the side, a ghost of interest passing over her face before she covered it. It wasn't the welcoming committee he expected after Chiisukai.
"Prowl is Dreaming," she said spreading and folding her wings, a Praxian shrug it had taken Jazz almost a vorn to figure out. Prowl didn't do it often. He always had words, always knew what he needed to say and how to say it.
He shook his head not understanding. "But…you're all awake. Why isn't he?" The other officers weren't far behind him. Once they warmed up they'd be clambering up the mountain after him. He'd left a sloppy trail. They wouldn't let him come back up here. He was still looking at AWOL charges and threatening superior officers. He was going to have a very lengthy stay in the brig while they figured out what to do with him. But he needed to see Prowl. Needed to feel him and know that he was all right.
The femme tilted her head to the side. "Sometimes we Dream longer. Who are you?" She wasn't suspicious, only curious. Although, if he tried to attack all she had to do was shove him back and he'd tumble down the mountain. Jazz couldn't even lift his arm to stop her, everything was stiff and cold.
"Jazz," he whispered without hesitation. He wasn't keen on giving strangers his name. So much of what he did relied on anonymity that the more people who knew and saw him put his life in more and more danger every time he went out. But if it got him through the Q&A faster and out of the wind he'd give the femme his code to board the Ark.
The passive interest on the femme's face sharpened and her wings rose a notch over her shoulders. "You are an Autobot," she said scrutinizing him more closely. Jazz shivered a shrugged, not entirely sure if he was still in the army or on his way to a dishonorable discharge. "You are dead." Now there was suspicion in her, a trace of aggression.
Jazz didn't back down from sudden mood change. Not that he had anywhere to go. If he didn't get shelter here he'd be dead in a joor. "Not yet. I need to see Prowl." She flexed her wings and a breem later another femme landed, older, and with dark grey wings with streaks of green through them. Her expression remained glacial when she flicked her optics over Jazz. She looked just like Prowl. She didn't speak and all of her razor sharp attention was on Jazz.
"He looks just like you," Jazz said feeling the ache in his spark increase. Physically there was only a vague resemblance, mostly in the wings, but the way she assessed every piece of him, the way he breathed and the way he stood. There was no mistaking she was Prowl's creator.
Her optics went to his face and her wings folded back. "He will be so happy to see you, Jazz." She turned and with a flick of her wing that could have been missed beckoned him to follow. But he knew Prowl and it looked like those curt nonverbal cues he used he hadn't figured out on his own. He passed through the arches and felt a little warmer once he was out of the wind.
Through the narrow passage the settlement opened up, a wide city center busy with Praxians buying and selling, some looked like they were preparing for a journey as they tied parcels together and measured out fabric. The wind tore through the mountain, ruffling all the goods that were wisely pinned down. The Praxians didn't take note of it as they continued about their day. Some of the younger ones brought their wings closer or moved nearer their creators but they were the only indication the winds were still chilly even for the An'Shar.
Prowl's creator led him through the bustle to a quieter space where Praxians ducked out of doorways and stretched their wings. She led him to one such doorway and walked through. Jazz followed and as soon as he was a few steps in warmth rolled over his frame. He let out a shivering sigh and almost collapsed. "It is far too cold for any but the An'Shar to be this high," Prowl's creator admonished. "Especially a Polyhexian. It was the favor of the gods that allowed you to survive the journey." No matter how cold he was, Jazz's training noted the details of the home. There weren't any chairs but fluffy cushions stacked neatly in a corner. A heat lamp sitting on a low table gave of warmth and most of the light. Along the opposite wall a shrine, twice the size of the one Prowl had kept in his quarters, filled the wall. The stones were as big as Jazz's hand and the black one at the top glowed an odd grey and a dark green one on the bottom glowed soft white. Prowl's creator took notice of the glowing stones and came to a stop.
"So they don't usually do that?" Jazz asked with chattering teeth. Prowl's creator started walking again leading him to a small room further back.
"Kanashimi and Chishiki often disagree on things. I see they have added you to that list."
"Well, everyone else is mad at me, why not a couple of gods," Jazz said without humor.
Prowl's creator made him sit on a berth. "Recharge and when you wake you will eat." There was no room for argument and again the similarities between Prowl and his creator were startling. A wry smile graced Jazz's lips but he lay back and pulled the warm covers over him. He shivered for some time until the warmth finally seeped into the coldest parts of his fingers and toes. Once those were warm his optics drifted shut and he sank into dreamless recharge.
Cold still lingered in him when he woke but his fingers didn't protest when he bent them and his toes let him stand. Grogginess made him a little uncoordinated as he walked out of the room but he found his balance before reaching the open room where Prowl's creator and another mech were sitting at the low table on cushions. There was an empty cushion next to her. The mouthwatering aroma of warm food filled the room. Spread out on the table were dishes filled with steamed greens, cooked grains, dark bread that still had steam rising off it, and a platter of thick sliced meat. The mech saw him first, he looked a little like Prowl's creator but he didn't see any resemblance to Prowl. "It's either a glitch or bravery that brought you all the way up here," the mech said with optics shining with amusement. "Storm Watch, by the way."
"Definitely not something I ever want to do again," Jazz said feeling every breem he'd been on the mountain. Feeling that was his invitation to join them he sat down stiffly on the cushion next to Prowl's creator. "Prowl's still not awake?" he asked softly, concern starting to gnaw at him. Both shook their heads.
"We will go wake him after we eat," Prowl's creator said.
"How long did I recharge?" he asked. He felt like significant time had passed but couldn't imagine he had recharged that long in a strange place with mechs in pursuit.
She passed Jazz a plate with generous helpings of everything but the meat, for which Jazz was thankful but also a little mystified. "Through the orn and night. It's just past sunrise now. You probably should have recharged longer." There was a note of creator admonishment in her voice he hadn't heard since his creator died. He felt like a juvenile again who'd been caught out past curfew.
And like he had when he was younger, he went for the subject change. "Are there Polyhexian traders that come up this way?" he asked. "Most don't know Polys don't eat meat outside of shellfish." Prowl's creator gave him a knowing side optic.
The mech laughed. "Oh no, it's only a stray trader that ventures this far. But there's a family of Polys that set up a food stand in Ling-Bei for the summer and it's rare they even have shellfish on the menu." His voice reminded Jazz of Prowl, mostly in the lower tones.
"How are you and Prowl related?" he asked curiosity getting the better of him. There was enough resemblance for them to be family but a cousin was his best guess.
Storm Watch's wings flicked like a cat's tail. "We're brothers," he said, an impish smile on his face that reminded Jazz of Sideswipe. Surprise must have shown on his face because Storm Watch laughed. "Different sires." And that suddenly made Jazz feel very awkward sitting next to Prowl's creator. He had a feeling Storm Watch was enjoying this.
Prowl's creator gave her mechling an exasperated look. "An'Shar villages aren't very large. The mountains simply will not tolerate many in one place. If we only reproduced with those in our own settlements we'd be completely inbred in only a few generations. To keep that from happening we have a rotation system in place. There are one hundred and fourteen An'Shar settlements and every heat cycle the sires leave their home village and move to a predetermined one for the length of the cycle." She shrugged. "Then they can either stay or return home."
Jazz made sure he kept his mouth closed so he didn't gape. That was absolutely nothing like he'd ever heard. He wasn't a prude by any stretch, even used 'facing to get information, but it seemed so…improper. "You don't have…bondmates or something like that?" he asked.
Both shrugged. "Some do, but no, most don't. It's too hard to bring in new adults when there are sparklings soon to be sparked that need a great deal of resources." She gave Storm Watch a fond smile. "Storm Watch I had hoped for and Prowl was a complete surprise. Siblings are almost nonexistent among us."
"Which is why Prowl is so special," Storm Watch said with a fleeting look of sadness crossing his face. "I hope seeing you will help him heal."
oOo
Prowl's creator led him to a staircase on the other side of the settlement carved directly into the mountain. Whether it had been dug intentionally or simply worn down by countless steps and feet was impossible to tell. The stone was glass smooth under his feet. Parts of the mountain were polished where wings and hands had brushed. He paused and ran his fingers over the smooth wall feeling the weight of time. He looked up and found Prowl's creator assessing him again, whatever she saw now softened some of the lines in her face and reminded him more, physically, of Prowl.
At the top of the staircase Jazz had to stop again and marvel at the honeycomb carved in the stone. It was still the mountain, but it, like the staircase, was polished better than the floors of the Ark. Bright mountain sunlight reflected off the surface like mirrors and he had to dim his visor more so he wouldn't be blinded. The veins of color in the mountain, the dark blues, purples, gold, and greens were exposed by the constant wear of hands, feet, and wings. He let out a soft sound of wonder as he stared. Intentionally carved into the stone all the way up the mountain as high as the highest polished stones, great relief sculptures of familiar figures wove between the dark niches where the An'Shar Dreamed. "I know that one," he said to Prowl's creator, pointing to a blue-grey figure that was a thousand times the size of his small stone. He felt his little stone's absence again like a missing limb. "I had…Prowl gave me one." His hand drifted to his hip where his little stone should have been safe and secure. "I lost it."
A smile flitted across her face, subtle and so like Prowl's his spark kicked. "Stones are never lost." She reached out and took his hand, leading him past his familiar figure to a darker section where another relief sculpture was carved into shimmering black rock. There were no soft curves on the figure. It was sharp and angled. Its wings spread and swept up high instead of low and comforting. In the bottom corner, grey shaded wings surrounded a recharging form.
"Prowler," Jazz breathed. His feet wanted to rush forward and drag him out, shake him awake, let him know that everything was all right. But his processor kept him behind the femme. He didn't have any idea how to wake Prowl and in this quiet space noise and over excitement felt like they would be unwelcome.
Prowl's creator kneeled next to him and stroked the long feathers of his wings before whispering a word into the darkness. She stepped back and folded her wings to wait. "He has gone deep into Dreaming, it will take a moment for him to wake."
Jazz's spark clenched. "That's my fault," he whispered. "I should've…I should've done something."
Prowl's creator looked at him with a sad smile. "You cannot take away the pain that has come before. But you will bring him untold joy now." With a sharp intake Prowl's body reanimated. His wing ruffled and then lifted revealing a recharge heavy face and half closed optics. Jazz held himself in place waiting to see what needed to be done next. She gave him a wider smile. "He's not awake to see me," she said by way of encouragement.
Jazz was next to Prowl before he realized he'd moved. "Prowl," Jazz said, feeling his throat tighten and fluid prick his optics. Prowl lifted his head more and looked more awake by the second. "Prowl." He pressed their foreheads together feeling the warmth of Prowl's frame seep into him.
A warm hand came up and caressed his cheek. "Jazz?" he whispered with confusion. "I tried to look for you but Kanashimi said I would not find you." He sat up and his warm wings wrapped around Jazz's cold frame. He smelled like spiced leaves. Jazz buried his head in the crook of his neck inhaling the safe familiar scent. He was warm again, Prowl's wings not letting any of the cold through. He hadn't realized how well insulated they were on the Ark. "I'm sorry," Prowl whispered. "I'm sorry."
Jazz shook his head and pressed their lips together. "No," he said not pulling back. "No, not your fault, Prowl. Not your fault." Prowl tucked his head under his chin, audio pressed against Jazz's spark chamber. "You tell me every time I go out that you can't plan for everything and neither can I," he whispered. "We didn't plan for this, but I got through it and I'll get through it again if I have to. I won't leave you."
Prowl lifted his head and reached behind him. He held out a small blue-grey stone. Jazz stared at his stone for a long moment before reaching out a trembling hand to take it. It was freezing, colder than the air, but the moment it settled in his palm warmth suffused it once more. Jazz flinched but didn't drop it. "It's warm again?" He rubbed his thumb over the familiar curves.
"He has returned," Prowl said softly. There was relief in his voice and Jazz held the little stone against his chest for a second.
Jazz felt every rechargeless breem he'd ever had. "I haven't been able to recharge without it." Prowl's wings slid more around him, warm and heavy.
"He didn't leave you," Prowl murmured in his audio. "He left his vessel, but He did not leave you." In his peripherals a shadow took shape, not the Monster, but a Praxian mech that almost looked familiar. When Jazz turned his head more to get a better look the shadow shimmered and disappeared. He felt Prowl smile against his neck. "It's too cold for you to be up here," he said. Jazz didn't feel cold, not with his wings around him and his warm body pressed against his.
Prowl slid out of the small space and kept a wing around Jazz but he could feel the cold starting to creep in with the new position. He couldn't feel his toes. With no shortage of disdain, Prowl's creator said, "The others that were with you when Storm Watch and I brought you home are on their way up. I don't know what their business is." She led the way back to the stairs with an irritated flick of her wings.
"Me," Jazz said with a tired sigh. "I went AWOL coming here when I found out they didn't' tell you I came—Primus, Bluestreak, Bluestreak came back. He's okay," Jazz said jerking to stop before they reached the narrow steps. Prowl's entire frame stiffened, his optics stayed on the distance. "He got held up, an asteroid collision that knocked him way off course. He's okay." Jazz reached up and stroked Prowl's cheek when a tremor ran through him.
"Bluestreak?" Prowl whispered. He shook himself and took a forced calm breath.
"The little mech you've been missing?" Prowl's creator asked softly. Prowl nodded, still trying to keep his breaths slow and calm. Jazz activated the magnets in his hand and stroked them along the joints of Prowl's wing. She took Prowl's hand and tugged him forward to get him walking again. "Then I'm certain he has missed you just as much, go find your little mech." Prowl nodded again and more of his weight pressed against Jazz as they went down the stairs. Jazz kissed his shoulder.
He felt formality stiffen Prowl's frame when he saw the other officers standing by the black arch. Praxian's stood in a half-moon in front of them barring them from entering further. Jazz was certain either Prowl or his creator growled, maybe both. Optimus spotted them first and seemed to be at a loss of what to do. Prowl stared at him for a few seconds and then his head turned away from the Prime's direction. Jazz followed his line of sight to Blaster, furthest back in the shadow of the arch, staring at the ground with his shoulders hunched. Prowl didn't return Optimus' formal greeting, but slid past him, Magnus, and Ironhide to the red and yellow communications officer.
"Blaster, what is wrong?" Prowl asked stopping in front of him, wings up and curved a little to block the cold wind. Blaster's head jerked up and he looked around, optics skittering off the other officers and Praxians. Prowl's focus sharpened and he gently cupped the mech's cheek. Blaster flinched but his erratic focus finally landed on Prowl. "What happened?" Prowl asked softly. Blaster's optics were distant, as they had been for a while now, like he was trying not to listen to another conversation going on next to him.
"What?" he said after a long pause. He shook his head, more like a twitch of his shoulders and neck, almost like Red Alert when a glitch started to take hold of him. Prowl slid a wing around him and pulled him into a hug, no longer asking him questions just stroking gentle fingers down the back of his head. Blaster's optics immediately started to dim and close. Pressure released from his joints with a soft hiss and puff of air. He found a comfortable position for his head on Prowl's shoulder and his optics closed and didn't open.
"What happened to him, Jazz?" Prowl asked softly. Jazz was certain conversation wouldn't wake the red and yellow mech. He was already deep in recharge. "He is not as he should be, not even close. Has Smokescreen spoken with him?"
Jazz looked at the ground. "I don't know, Prowl. None of us are really all right. And I haven't really been there for him," he said softly. The troubled look on Prowl's face deepened and guilt sat heavy in Jazz's tanks. He'd known Blaster wasn't himself, but he hadn't even thought about asking him what was wrong. "Magnus…" Jazz said tilting his head back a little to indicate the fuming blue and red mech, "he kind of separated Blaster from everyone else, tried to make him like Soundwave. All seeing, all hearing." Prowl's troubled look flashed to anger before a façade of calm smoothed over it.
"Dual-sparks are fragile, Jazz," he said softly. "They can be prone to…processor fractures. Like their sparks, a piece of their mind can break off and become its own entity." His arms wrapped tighter around Blaster and Jazz stroked a hand down Blaster's back a couple times. "He can't stay here, he'll freeze by nightfall no matter if we get him out of the wind." It was odd seeing Prowl hoist Blaster into his arms when every orn they'd been onboard the Ark together, Blaster had been one of his primary processor aches.
Something on his face gave away his thoughts because Prowl smiled. "Blaster is loud, excitable, and abrasive. It is who he is. I cannot be angry at him for that any more than I can be angry at the wind for being cold."
"You're my better half," Jazz said. "My better three quarters. Seven eighths." There was only a little humor in the words because they were the truth.
A fleeting look crossed Prowl's face that disagreed with everything Jazz just said, but he didn't voice his thoughts only said to his creator, "I will return." Blaster shivered in his arms and curled closer to his warm frame but didn't wake. His creator's optics smiled, just like Prowl's did, but her mouth didn't curve.
"Jazz you are to report to the brig immediately," Ultra Magnus snapped. Prowl gave Magnus a long look before he started walking, whatever judgement he'd refused to pass before leaving the Ark was beginning to settle. He didn't say anything and Jazz followed him through the archway.
"Can you glide with him to the ship?" Jazz asked when they were out of the protection of the mountain settlement.
"Probably, but I would like to speak with Blaster alone first. Where is the ship?" Prowl asked, bringing his wings up to shield Blaster better from the wind. He shivered in his recharge and curled closer to Prowl's warm body.
"A little outside of Tar'xian," Jazz answered.
"Then I will land there and wait for the others." Prowl spread his thundercloud wings and leaped forward into the cold air. If Blaster's weight was pulling him down it was impossible to tell. The strong wind kept him aloft until he dipped a wing and started his descent.
"Would you like a ride?" Storm Watch asked coming up next to Jazz, optics on his brother and a small smile tugging the corner of his mouth.
"I don't think I'd survive the trip down," Jazz answered. It was a little awkward being scooped up like a sparkling but Jazz didn't really have time to squirm before Storm Watch leaped out into the air and snapped open his wings. Jazz's tanks swirled as he looked down. He'd done plenty of drops in his life, but he'd always had a parachute. All he had now was faith in Storm Watch's wings.
oOo
Blaster sampled a native Praxian dish with wary interest. Prowl's ravenous appetite had kicked in not long after landing, the kels of no food or water catching up to him once he was in the much warmer town of Tar'xian. The warm air had woken Blaster too and he seemed just as hungry. Storm Watch was busy keeping Jazz distracted for a joor or two while Prowl tried to work out what exactly was wrong with Blaster.
Migration Lodge was full of traders preparing for the cold journey up the mountain and most had already asked Prowl if the passes were clear for large caravans yet. Blaster watched everything with rapt attention, anchored in the current conversations and everything that was going on around him. He was, for the moment, as he should be. "I didn't know Praxus was still so busy," Blaster said, watching with unfiltered interest as a lone merchant gave another survival strategy on the high peaks. He took a bigger bite of his dish and looked at the door again where another group was coming in to inquire about open rooms. The noise of mechs and femmes moving, scuffing their feet, scraping chairs, talking, laughing created a deafening white noise to Prowl but Blaster was enjoying every second. There was life in him once more. "Can Steeljaw and Eject come out and see too?" Blaster asked, wariness returning to his optics.
Prowl canted his head to the side not allowing the troubled frown to cross his face. "They are free to do as they please, as they always are, Blaster." Blaster didn't ask for permission. Ever. He followed Jazz's example and did what he wanted and if it turned out to be a bad idea he apologized and moved on to the next thing. "I thought they would be out by now." Blaster's chest plates slid apart and his symbionts exited. Steeljaw looked a little unsteady on his legs, as if he wasn't quite used to walking and Eject landed on the table stretching his wings.
Blaster picked at his food for a moment, the troubled look on his face morphing to anger before settling on sadness. "You know they're not pets, right?" he asked suddenly. "Like, they're not strays I just picked up, they're people." His voice trembled.
"Yes, I know," Prowl said not looking away from Blaster's face. "Dual-sparks are not unknown to the An'Shar, though they are rarer for us than the rest of Cybertron." Steeljaw's head lifted as he scented the air and life flowed back into his frame. He stretched once more and darted off with his nose leading the way. Eject flapped his wings and flew up to the rafters where he perched on a long beam watching everyone below squawking a commentary only Steeljaw and Blaster could understand.
"Magnus thinks they're pets," Blaster said. "He doesn't think we're people. He thinks we get in the way." Prowl noted his unconscious use of We. Symbionts tried to avoid it when talking to others because it sounded odd, but it was more accurate than Blaster referring to his symbionts as wholly individual entities. Steeljaw was Eject and Eject was Steeljaw and both were Blaster. They were literal pieces of him given independent bodies. It was a processor ache waiting to happen to any mech who wasn't flexible enough to take that at face value.
Prowl resettled his wings. "Magnus is impatient and inflexible," he told Blaster. "I tried not to pass judgement in the short time we were onboard together. I thought my situation had colored my opinion, but I believe now what I saw and felt was accurate. He may well be a good soldier, but he is not fit for leading on a large scale. I doubt he should have been promoted past Lieutenant."
"Will you make him go away?" Blaster asked softly. "We don't like him. He's so mean and he makes everything so quiet. We don't like the quiet."
"Yes," Prowl said without fully thinking that through. "I will help Optimus select someone better." Relief colored Blaster's optics and he again looked like himself as he returned to his late lunch and listened in to the conversations going on around them.
oOo
A/N: I don't think Prowl's going to like what Magnus has done with the place…
Thank you for R/R/F/F!