Chapter 7

It was a long night at the Ark.

But though everybody was worried about Ratchet, the Autobots were still in the middle of a war and eventually everyone returned to their duties or to their rooms to catch up on their interrupted rest.

Perceptor and Grapple were pulling double shifts to cover for Wheeljack and Hoist, and Spike and Sparkplug helped Chip work on designing an upgrade for the sensor net.

Prowl was taking his 2 am to 6am shift when Jazz sauntered in. "Hey Prowl, howzit?" the Porsche-bot said cheerfully.

"Fine." Prowl answered curtly.

Jazz frowned and paused for a moment, watching the other mech closely. "No y' not Prowl." Jazz replied. "Y' may be able t' keep y' voice under control, but y' body lingo is screamin'." That got Prowl's attention. He turned slightly and threw Jazz a querying look. "What are you talking about?" He asked.

"Special ops training m' man." Jazz answered bluntly. "I can read y' like an open file." Jazz grabbed the nearest chair and straddled it. "Talk t' me man, it ain't good fer ya t' blame y'self for stuff that's outta your control."

Prowl resolutely pressed his lips together and faced the screen again.

"The silent treatment ain't gonna work on me Prowl." Jazz said, crossing his arms on top of the chair's back and resting his chin on them. "I ain't going away until y' talk t' me, and if y' get inta th' nitty gritties o' the rule book we've got th' same rank so y' can't order me away either. Now talk."

Prowl sighed. "You are serious about this?" he asked.

"I got a full tank o' energon an' my shift starts at noon. I can stay here as long as I need t'." Jazz replied with a cheeky half grin.

The black and white sighed again. The first thing he had learned about Jazz was the special ops officer was not one to be thrown from his objective, whether it was ferreting out information, planting a bomb, or simply convincing someone to talk. It would take something on the scale of an assassination attempt on Prime to divert him now, after which he would quite eagerly return to pestering Prowl into co-operation.

Prowl didn't need his battle computer to tell him that it would be a lot easier to just give in now.

"I am responsible." He said softly, keeping his optics anywhere other than Jazz's face. "It was my duty to ensure that they would be safe. I failed to recognise the threat, and I failed to anticipate what Megatron was planning. Now two Autobots are injured and one is near death."

"So that's what's got ya' doors in a knot. Y' tactical programming is kicking a fit over you not spottin' the anomaly fer what it was, and y' blaming y'self for the battle t' boot. Don't look so surprised. I was trained t' analyse 'bots, you were trained fer analysin' situations." Jazz admonished. "Now, y' listen t' me fer a bit. One, how were you supposed t' know what the 'Cons were up to? Y' didn't have any other info other than Sides and 'Raj were getting ganged up on. Two, y' ain't perfect, and everybody makes mistakes. Nobody's blamin' ya, so why should ya blame y'self. Three, y' don't got nothing t' feel all guilty about. Sideswipe will be Jet Judo-ing again within th' week, 'Raj 'ill be doin' his spy gig in a couple o' days, and if Ratchet found out y' were bein' so stupid he'd march down here and break open y' cranium with y' own chevron."

Jazz stood and put one reassuring hand on Prowl's shoulder. "Don't worry about the Ratch-man." He advised with a grin. "The Doc's survived over eight thousand years o' the twins at close range. Ol' Meggy ain't nothin' compared t' that."

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Sideswipe leaned against the wall, trying not to aggravate the temporary welds across his back, while his twin stood across from him, scowling at the world in general. The uncharacteristically silent mechs had stood guard at the doors of the repair bay for most of the night, ever since Sunstreaker had stormed out of the common room.

They didn't discuss why they did it, because there was no point in doing so. The twins liked Ratchet quite a bit. He was one of the very few mechs who could dish out his special brand of punishment just as well as the twins could. That and he was honest. Many Autobots in authority tended to put on airs or suck up to their superiors. Ratchet didn't do that.

The medic had also saved their lives countless times. Though the twins knew they couldn't do anything to help Ratchet directly, they did what they were best at to help indirectly: looking menacing and protecting their brother Autobots from harm.

Because if anyone dared harm Ratchet, the twins would make sure they got it back ten-fold.