EDIT: I extended this chapter instead of turning it into a new one.

Wow I feel as though I disappeared for quite some time. Despite it being only a couple of weeks, I think. Sorry for vanishing, but life has been throwing bricks at me lately.

Hope you enjoy!

*Disclaimer: I don't own transformers*

~ o ~

I walked giddily out into the night, my feet leaving large imprints in the sand as I went. I'd decided to head down to the beach for another midnight stroll, as I was unable to recharge. This time it wasn't due to the nightmares that plagued my sleep, however. I kept thinking back to Prowl's confession earlier this afternoon. I still could hardly believe that I had blunted out my feelings to him like that—or that he had admitted to feeling the same! I suppose part of me had assumed that I would always be alone romantically. Then again—a lot of things had happened as of late that I had never in a million years thought would. But to think—

I had a mate.

Did I have a mate? I walked the through warm sand second-guessing myself. Maybe his confession meant nothing, after all. Maybe I'd misheard him. Maybe it was ridiculous to automatically assume that because we had both confessed that we now were mates. We weren't by any means sparkmates. But I was his intended now, was I not? He had kissed my hand after walking me back to hanger from the beach—that had to have meant something, right? I rubbed my left hand, imagining the feel of his metallic lips on the back of it. The thought had my cooling fans switching up a couple of notches, and I stopped, turned, holding my hand, staring out at the sea. The water was calm and I found myself mesmerized by the rippling surface, shimmering in the moonlight. I put my hand over where my necklace would be.

I wanted nothing more than to see Prowl again, but was afraid to disturb him in case he was finally getting some much-needed rest. It would have to wait until the morning, I supposed. I stared at the moon, suddenly feeling the urge to sprint across the beach, overwhelmed as I was by the vastness above and all around me. It was a star-speckled sky encompassing my head. I stretched out my arms, trying to capture it all. Then I turned and broke into a run across the shoreline, pushing myself faster and faster, until I was suddenly I was transforming and running on all fours across the sand.

It took me a moment to realize that I was now a metallic horse, but once I did I snorted and came to a sliding stop in surprise at having taken this form—at even being able to take this form. I wondered briefly about what I looked like, until it hit me that I'd been riding Astraea the time I had first encountered the cube and gotten zapped. It made sense then that I would resemble her in terms of what I looked like: a metallic version of an Arabian mare.

I took a couple of tentative steps forward, taking note of the odd feeling that bending my knees now brought as unaccustomed as I was to this new body. I picked up speed after a few minutes of just walking around. Soon I was trotting; and before I knew it I was galloping down the shoreline, my metal hooves eating up the ground. My spark soared. Something about galloping wildly like this reminded me of Astraea and the feeling of complete freedom I used to feel whenever I rode her. I felt lighter somehow, like my body was made of feather instead of metal.

I practised running across the beach until two, when I transformed back into my bipedal mode and walked back up the sandy trail to the main hanger. I no longer felt nervous about visiting Prowl and whether or not he would want to see me. I just wanted to see him.

I walked down the halls until I reached his quarters. I rapped my knuckles on the door after only a slight hesitation; unsure of whether he really was in recharge. A moment later, the door slide open to reveal a surprised looking Prowl.

"Mind if I stay here tonight?" I asked. Standing beside him at last, I felt all my nervousness about whether or not he'd want to see me vanish, and had to resist the urge to tackle him in a hug.

He lifted a brow, but said nothing and backed up to let me in. I immediately rushed over to sit on the berth near the far wall, only to blush when he walked over more calmly. I ducked my head and parted my lips to say something, but the words dried on my tongue when I saw how utterly exhausted he looked. He must've either been working late at his desk or I had in fact woken him from his recharge. I felt bad regardless.

"Come here," I said, scotching backwards until I was sitting on my knees near the wall on the berth and then opening my arms. Prowl looked as though he wanted to say something, but after a moment he walked over with a word and took a seat on the edge of the berth, looking tired and a little lost at what it was I wanted. I laughed and patted my lap. "Put your head here," I said. He blinked and then did so slowly, as though he was unsure whether or not I would change my mind. He lay down on his stomach with his head on my lap and his doorwings flared out behind him.

Cautiously he set his arms on either side of my lower hips and I reached out with a hand and stroked the outer panel on one of his wings, feeling him grow rigid for a moment and then gradually relax, as my hands ran slowly up his monochrome wing and then down again, loving the feel of his gorgeous frame against mine.

Without thinking I started to hum softly, listening as his engine died down to almost nothing, watching as his wings drooped lower and lower, knowing that I was lulling him to sleep. I started to think that he was asleep until he suddenly shifted off of my lap and shimmied backwards until he was lying on his side on the berth. He placed his head on his hand and wordlessly patted the space next to him with a faint smile. I crawled over to him and cuddled into his chest plating, loving being so close to his spark. I sighed happily and closed my optics. Before I drifted off completely, I asked, "Can I recharge by your side every night from now on?"

"You may," he whispered, his hand rubbing small circles on my back plating.

~ o ~

The next morning I onlined my optics to find the spot next to me empty, with Prowl instead sitting across the room at his desk looking over a stack of datapads. I stood and stretched luxuriously, before stepping over to him.

"That one is for you," Prowl said, without looking up from his datapad. I saw a pair of pink energon cubes sitting on the desk beside the stack of datapads, one of which was closer of to me than the other, and so I picked it up and took a small sip, my optics brightening at the fact that it had sweet energon in it. While I drank, Prowl continued to read and methodically type into the datapad he was reading. I recalled the hologram projector that I'd found on his desk a while back containing the image of him and another bot, and wondered briefly if it was still there. Without thinking, I reached out and plucked the projector up from behind the stack of datapads, causing Prowl to look up from what he was doing to narrow his optics at me.

"I would prefer you return that back to where you just got it from," he said; only to narrow his optics into even smaller slits when I ducked my head sheepishly. "You've already seen what is on it," he said, but not as a question.

"Who is he?" I asked as I turned on the hologram to reveal a slightly different looking Prowl and the silver bot wearing a visor. I thought of asking him if the bot in the projector was actually his brother, but the missing doorwings clearly stated that he was not.

For a few seconds, Prowl didn't answer but stared mutely at the hologram. I didn't push him but waited patiently for him to decide whether he wanted to divulge this information to me or not.

"Jazz," he said finally, still looking at the projector. "We grew up together in Praxus."

"Jazz?" I asked, and he nodded. I looked at the grinning bot in the hologram and decided that the name suited him. "But he doesn't have any doorwings," I said as though it mattered.

"Jazz was only part Praxian. His femme creator was Praxian and so he was raised in Praxus." He smiled then as though remembering some distant memory. "I spent most of my free time in time the Crystal Gardens, wandering or reading. One morning, while I was wandering around, I happened to encounter a trio of Praxians picking on a wingless bot. I was already training to be an Enforcer at the time and so I stepped in an attempt to break up the group."

"Good. I hope you showed them a thing or two," I said, and he laughed.

"No, actually, I had only just started my training and could barely fight." He shook his head. "I ended up with a broken nose plate despite my best efforts, and the bot I stepped in to rescue wound up being the one to defend me. That bot was Jazz. He took to following me around afterwards, despite my antisocial behaviour."

I blinked and examined the silver bot in the hologram, thinking he must have been as friendly as he looked. "What was he like?" I asked, not missing how he spoke in the past tense whenever he referred to Jazz.

"Self-possessed, calm, collected," Prowl said, his smile fading as he stared at the hologram image of Jazz. "He became the head of Special Operations in the army." He reached out and took the projector from me, holding it in one hand, running his thumb over the power button. For a moment, I thought he was going to turn it off, but he only continued to stare emotionlessly at the hologram.

"What happened to him?" I asked softly in Praxian.

"He was offlined by Megatron," he answered, after a long moment. He seemed to examine the face of his friend one last time, before his optics became unreadable and hard, and he shut off the projector, returning it to the back of his desk.

"I'm so sorry," I said, not knowing what else to say. I started to reach towards him, but he stood up and collected our empty energon cubes and disposed of them. I watched him, taking note of the stiff way he carried himself and his wings. Without thinking, I walked over and wrapped my arms around his torso from behind, resting my head against his back between his doorwings. He tensed, but didn't try to move away from me, and after a few minutes, I felt him gradually relax. "I know this might not sound like much, but I promise you can trust me," I whispered.

Prowl didn't say anything, but turned around so that he was looking down at me, his blue optics finding mine. He leaned forward and surprised me by tipping my chin up gently with a hand and kissing me as well as our metal lips would allow. He pulled away after a moment though, much to my disappointment.

"I believe you have a check up appointment with Ratchet," he said.

I nodded and turned to go, but not before reaching out to quickly, yet gently, run my hand against his outer doorwing panel, much to his surprise. I let out a high-pitched shriek as he pretended to lunge at me and fled out of his room into the hall heading towards the med bay, laughing the entire way.

I slowed down once I reached the med bay door and entered to find Ratchet. He appeared from the back room and gestured with his hand for me to sit on one of the berths. "This should only take a moment," he said.

I took a seat and immediately felt the tingle of a scan run through me before Ratchet took my wrist and began to physically examine it. The former pain I had felt was absent, minusing a dull ache that appeared whenever I used it for too long. As I sat there, answering Ratchet's questions, I couldn't help but think of the grinning bot I had seen in the hologram with Prowl. I wondered what had happened to him.

"Ratchet, did you ever meet a mech named Jazz?" I asked, staring at my feet. I didn't look, but could feel Ratchet's head snap up in surprise. I lifted my head to see his mouth open and then close as a look of understanding dawned across his face.

"Prowl told you," he said, but not as a question.

I nodded. "He did. But only because I found an old hologram projector on his desk containing a hologram of him and Jazz together, I think." I paused, feeling the need to lick my lips despite them being made of metal and therefore unable to chap. "Ratchet, what happened to Jazz? How did he die?" I asked.

Ratchet vented and realized my wrist that he was holding. "He was torn in half by Megatron during a battle, not long after we arrived on Earth. I did my best to repair his broken frame, but the damage to his spark chamber was too extensive." He lowered his head. "I couldn't save him."

Without thinking, I stood up and wrapped my arms around his stomach, the best I could do considering he was so much taller than I was. "It wasn't your fault he offlined," I said, knowing without a doubt that Ratchet had done everything he could to save Jazz.

"Even so, I cannot help but feel partly to blame for his death," he said, and I leaned back to find a rather haunted look in his optics. I knew then that no matter what I said to him he would continue to blame himself regardless.

"Is that what you've been working on in the back room?" I asked quietly. I'm not sure what made me ask this, but something in the back of my mind urged me to at least make mention of the back room that he so often disappeared into. His mouth once again fell open in surprise, and I inwardly startled as it hit me that that may be exactly what he was working on. "You're still repairing his frame," I said, but more as a statement than a question.

"I am." He nodded. "I have repaired his frame to the best of my abilities."

"Why?" I asked in a quiet voice, my optics capturing his in a searching look.

"It was necessary," he said, rubbing his hand tiredly over his faceplates. "The scans I conducted on his upper frame after his alleged demise detected a faint spark pulse—"

"Hold on," I said, cutting him off as my optics searched his for any signs that he was lying. "Are you saying that Jazz is actually alive?"

He hesitated, before nodding.

"Do the others know?" I asked. I could tell he knew what I was really asking: when I said the others, I was really referring to Prowl.

"Aside from Optimus and myself, no," he said, and at my disbelieving look, he vented. "Jazz is unstable. The probability of him ever coming online is virtually non-existent at this point, despite the extensive repairs I have done to his frame. Prowl was incredibly close to Jazz; and I do not want to risk informing him that Jazz is alive only for Jazz to ultimately succumb to his injuries." His optics narrowed in a sharp look that suggested he didn't want me to tell Prowl either, and I stared my hands as I thought about how much I didn't want to keep something like this from him, despite realizing that Ratchet was right. He already carried the weight of Jazz's death. If he were to find out that Jazz was actually alive only for Jazz to die, I shuddered to think of how I would feel in that kind of situation.

"Can I see him?" I asked. I sensed that he was about to refuse and caught his optic. "Please?"

He vented and wordlessly led me towards the backroom, stopping outside the door to input a code, before walking inside. I followed him in more slowly, taking note of the smallness of the room in relation the size of the front of the med bay and started when I saw a silver bot laying motionlessly on a berth near the center of the room, attached to numerous wires that I'm guessing monitored his spark pulse and kept him stable.

I was shocked how much smaller the bot looked than in the hologram, with him being about three feet smaller than I was. Another thing I found striking was the fact that I could see his optics, though they were dark. I walked over to him without really thinking about it and stared down at his face, recalling the grinning bot I had seen in the hologram. I took his hand and squeezed it gently, knowing full well that he wasn't aware of me doing so, but wanting to hold it anyway.

"If you need me I'll be out front," Ratchet said, leaving me alone with Jazz.

As I stood there, holding his hand, I realized that his fingers felt pointed and examined his hand to find that he had claws. I ran my thumb over his claws gently, feeling a mix of emotions. More than anything I wanted to do something to help, but what could I do? I wasn't a medic. I didn't have any training. Besides Ratchet, in my opinion, was the best there was. If he couldn't do anything more for Jazz, then what good was I?

I stared at the armour over where his spark would be, and before I was even aware of what I was doing, I had reached out and laid my hand on top of it. I shut my optics and felt for any energy coming from his spark pulse, detecting strangely a tiny tendril of feeling. I gasped and retracted my hand, unsure of what I had just felt. Still, the desire to help drove me on and without stopping to think of what I was doing, I placed my hand back over his spark and felt for that small wisp, holding onto it once I found it. It was weak, barely there, but I held on regardless, somehow knowing that it was his spark.

Please, Primus, let him be okay!

All at once heat blossomed in my chest and I sent it down toward my hand toward Jazz's spark. I closed my optics, seeing a fully functional Jazz in my processor despite having never met him, and willed his spark to grow stronger.

Immediately something shot out of my hand and into Jazz's frame, jolting it. I fell backwards onto my rump as the body convulsed, sudden fatigue washing over me as I clutched my hand. I heard footsteps and looked up just in time to see Ratchet rush into the room.

"What the slag is going on in—" Ratchet's yell was cut off as Jazz, with a loud gasp, shot into a sitting position. His optics, formerly black and lifeless, a bright blue just like they had been in the hologram.

For a minute the room was dead silent. So silent you could hear a pin drop. Ratchet stared, open mouthed, at Jazz, who looked around, first taking in the room he was in, then taking in Ratchet, and then down to me with wide optics.

"Whoa." He slowly and carefully got off the berth, before bending down to offer me a hand up. "Someone want to tell meh what happened?" He looked from me to Ratchet and then to me again. "Hey there, lil lady."

I collapsed in his arms.