Jazz blearily onlined, and wasn't happy about it.
He'd had great trouble falling into recharge -and staying that way- as he'd had every rest cycle since this mess began.
Knowing that he'd wake to someone who was much more a stranger than his closest friend wasn't exactly a fuzzy lullaby to sleep on.
Jazz doubted if Bluestreak had had a better recharge, given how disconsolate he'd been when he'd left the saboteur's quarters.
Jazz had heard Prowl next door several times during the night, at his computer console, or what sounded like just wandering.
The saboteur had wondered if his conscience was keeping the tactician awake.
Jazz had considered knocking on Prowl's door with an offer of hot Energon and two willing audios, but intuition told him it wouldn't be appreciated
He groaned and pulled himself out of bed, not wanting to be late for duty.
Jazz entered the hall and paused, debating whether he should see if Prowl was up.
The Datsun's duty roster was the same as his own this fortnight.
Even as badly as he'd been treated by Prowl lately, Jazz just didn't have it in him to see the tactician in hot water with Optimus Prime again.
Jazz tapped once, and warily stepped just inside the door.
The black and white mech was curled up on his recharge bed, back to the door.
"Hey Prowl man, you awake?" Jazz asked hesitantly.
"Wide awake," the tactician growled.
"Do you feel ok?"
"Never better."
"Uh, I just wanted to make sure you wouldn't be late for duty,"
"I'll be there when, or if,I'm good and ready. Now get out," Prowl snapped, making no attempt to get up.
"Man, you're bringing this all on yourself," Jazz pointed out, taking a couple of steps toward the Datsun's bed.
"Leave me alone."
"Prowl-"
"Are you just stupid, or have you finally deafened yourself? Shut up and get the slag out of my quarters, now," Prowl snarled, rolling over and sitting up, "Before I take out your speakers and shove them down your throat."
X
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"So once again Prowl will not be joining us," Optimus commented in irritation, after Jazz repeated his run-in with the Datsun.
"No Prime," Jazz confirmed flatly.
"Why don't you get him and drag him here?" Trailbreaker asked the Autobot commander sharply, fed up to the optics with Prowl shirking his responsibilities.
"What's the point Trailbreaker?" Prime said sourly, and the big mech had to concur.
Even when Prowl deigned to show up for a shift, he did so little that he may as well not be there.
X
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"Are you guys ready?" Bumblebee questioned.
He'd rounded up Tracks, Mirage and Hound, and suggested that they speak to Prowl as a friendly, non-threatening group.
He knew from Jazz that Prowl was, uh, resting, in his quarters (the Volkswagen couldn't bring himself to apply the word "lazing" to his second in command) and figured it was a good opportunity for, well, an intervention.
Bumblebee admired and respected the tactician, and badly wanted the old Prowl back.
The other three had always worked and gotten on very well with the Datsun too.
They missed his unflappable presence as a workmate, but they missed his friendship more.
"Bumblebee, I'd like to try and help Prowl as much as anyone," Tracks spoke up, "But try not to forget Mirage and I live just two doors down the hall from him...and given his recent behaviour, I'd rather avoid provoking him too much,"
"Tracks, we have to try," Mirage said decisively, "Have you seen how miserable Jazz and Bluestreak have been through this?"
"I don't think anyone's been laughing it up Mirage," Hound put in flatly.
The whole situation just felt so unreal.
X
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The concerned quartet made their way to Prowl's room, mentally bracing themselves.
They paused outside the Datsun's open door.
Bumblebee tapped lightly, and they filed in before they lost their collective nerve.
"Uh, morning Prowl," Bumblebee said cautiously.
The tactician was sprawled lazily on his bed, channel-surfing.
That surprised the Minibot.
Prowl rarely watched TV, and when he did, it was usually only because Jazz had talked him into it.
"What do you want?" Prowl said impatiently.
The Volkswagen took a step forward.
"We just wanted to talk to you for a few astroticks," he said, trying to sound casual but friendly.
"And what in the Universe makes you think I'd want to talk to you no-hopers?"
"'No-hopers?'" Hound spoke up.
"Primus, do I seriously have to spell it out?" Prowl snapped, flinging down the tv remote, getting of his bunk and stalking behind them.
All four turned and faced him warily.
"You," Prowl growled, pointing at Mirage, who would have stepped back if the Datsun's bed wasn't right behind him.
"I cannot for the life of me understand how a pampered, soft, spoiled brat like you could become an Autobot," Prowl sneered at the Ligier, "And I've had it up to my crest with your so-called homesickness. You don't miss Cybertron, you miss being pandered to,"
Mirage was speechless.
Hound laid a hand on the spy's shoulder.
"Prowl, that was uncalled for," he said flatly.
"The truth hurts," the Datsun snapped.
"And Prime really must've been scraping the bottom of the beryllium barrel," he threw at Hound, "To accept a mech whose only notable attribute -and I use that term lightly- is the ability to make pretty pictures, for rust's sake!"
"My holograms have gotten us out of some tight spots, as you know Prowl. And I'm sorry you think that's my only 'attribute,'" the scout said in a low tone.
The Datsun had already turned on a stunned Tracks.
"It must be the thing to have human pets, is it? I can't understand what Raul sees in you," Prowl said scathingly.
"Well I suppose it doesn't really matter anyway,"
"Why not?" Tracks asked sharply, highly offended.
Prowl glared at him.
"You'll likely end up getting him killed one of these days, especially if none of the rest of us are around to protect your dandy aft,"
"You son of a slagheap," Hound hissed, "Tracks would never let anything happen to Raul! And what have you got against humans all of a sudden - Chip is just as close to you as Raul is to Tracks! He saved your life Prowl!"
"Chip Chase can roll to hell, along with this little bootlick's bipedal lapdogs," Prowl snapped, waving a hand at the Volkswagen.
"You know Bumblebee, if Prime stops suddenly, you'll be right up his skidplate. Thank Primus you've finally stopped following me around."
"Prowl-" Hurt though he was, Bumblebee tried to reach out to him, but the tactician ignored him.
"I think you four annoy me more than anyone else," Prowl said almost conversationally, strolling in front of them, carelessly swinging his acid-pellet rifle to and fro.
"Being stuck on this ball of dust is bad enough without having to suffer the company of mechs like you lot,"
He suddenly faced them, both hands on rifle in full attack stance...and aimed directly at the small group.
"Prowl, I don't think you know what you're doing," Tracks said softly, instinctively stepping forward, keeping Mirage, Hound and Bumblebee protectively behind him.
"I know exactly what I'm doing Tracks," Prowl said mildly, "Pointing my fully-functional acid-pellet rifle at four extremely irritating Autobots. And aren't you the noble warrior," he added sarkily.
"How revolting."
They heard some sudden footsteps, and Jazz appeared in Prowl's doorway.
"For Primus' sake, you're not serious!" the Porsche exclaimed.
The tactician turned to him slightly, without removing the rifle from its target.
"Do you want to try me?" Prowl asked darkly, and Jazz felt the entire Universe shift beneath and around him.
Grabbing the opportunity, Tracks slowly reached for his own weapon, but the tactician had faced him before he could draw it.
"I wouldn't suggest that," Prowl hissed.
Jazz openly activated his commlink.
"Jazz to Prime: we got a real situation on our hands," Jazz said in a controlled tone, looking the tactician in the optics.
"You better get down to Prowl's quarters, now,"
"I'll be right there Jazz, Prime out."
"Prowl man, give me the rifle," Jazz tried.
Prowl snorted.
"This isn't some three-star hostage movie Jazz. Wake up to yourself."
The Porsche stared at him, trying to comprehend what he was seeing.
As he did so, Prowl took one step closer to his victims, still aiming the rifle.
He looked at Jazz over his shoulder, silently daring him to say something.
Jazz realized with a sickening start that this was real, and four of his friends were in real danger from...from Prowl.
"Prowl man, I'm so sorry," Jazz said quietly.
"For what?"
"This," Jazz pulled out his own weapon and trained it on the tactician.
Prowl gave him a slight smile, positively dripping with loathing.
"You don't have the manifolds for it,"
Prowl adjusted his grip into a weapon-ready position.
Jazz turned his head and fired, hands shaking.
Tracks and Mirage caught the tactician as he collapsed like a spilled sack of grain, and lowered him to the floor.
Jazz felt his own knee-joints weaken as he let his rifle wilt down.
"Primus, what have I done?" he whispered.
"Saved our chassis, I'd say," Hound said sourly, "Jazz, you only stunned him, you know that."
Prime rushed in then, and the saboteur nearly leapt out of his casing.
"What in the Universe is going on here?" the Autobot commander demanded, eyeing his troops.
The unconscious tactician, still clutching the rifle.
His saboteur, also holding a weapon and looking like he was about to join Prowl on the floor.
Tracks, Bumblebee, Mirage and Hound as taken aback as if Primus himself had just appeared before them.
"Somebody care to answer me?" Optimus tried again, going down on one knee to give Prowl a once-over.
Hound looked around at the gobsmacked Autobots and realized it would be up to him to explain.
"Sweet Cybertron..." Prime mumbled when the Jeep was done.
He glanced at Prowl and straightened.
"Are you all right?" he asked, hands on Mirage's and Bumblebee's shoulders as he looked the four of them over.
Mirage was more upset by the tactician's words than his actions, as was Tracks, but Bumblebee and Hound couldn't get past the fact that a trusted friend had had a weapon in their face.
"We're fine Prime," Tracks spoke for the four of them, but without much conviction.
Optimus Prime turned to his shaken saboteur.
"Jazz, you did the right thing," the Autobot commander told him quietly, trying to reassure him.
Optimus Prime bent down, disarmed the Datsun and subspaced the acid-pellet rifle in grim silence.
"I'm taking him to the medbay. And I'm going to ask Ratchet to run every test known to Autobot medicine on him," Prime said quietly, collecting the unconscious Prowl.
Jazz shook himself off as Optimus Prime exited and turned to his friends.
"Hey you guys all right?" he asked anxiously.
Each wore an identical I can't believe that just happened expression.
Jazz knew how they felt.
"Jazz...I don't miss any of that," Mirage quavered, "That...those things Prowl said. I miss Cybertron, my old home-"
"I know man," Jazz assured him, patting the Ligier's shoulder.
"There's something very wrong here. The Prowl I know would never have done that," Tracks pointed out, upset.
"That's it, never again," Hound said sharply, "I don't care what happens to him from here on out."
"But Hound-" Bumblebee spoke up hesitantly, and the Jeep cut in vehemently.
"Don't tell me you're still willing to put yourselves in another situation like this! How the slag can you help someone who pulls a weapon on you!"
The scout stalked out, absolutely boiling.
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"Prime, what happened here?" Ratchet asked as the commander laid the oblivious Datsun on an examination bay.
The Autobot commander tightly explained.
"Primus on a rack," Ratchet muttered, startled.
"What on Cybertron got into him?"
"That's what I want you to find out Ratchet," Optimus Prime said quietly, and asked the medic to run scans, tests...whatever he thought necessary.
"I want to be here when he regains consciousness, Ratchet," Prime added firmly.
He gave the Datsun a last glance and left.
"Prowl, Prowl, Prowl...what are we going to do with you?" Ratchet said softly, gazing at the Autobot who used to be the most even-tempered mech in the Ark.
He began a plethora of tests and exams, praying for a medical reason for Prowl's recent behaviour.
Ratchet was relieved he had a chance to thoroughly examine the Datsun.
Ever since Prowl had begun acting out of character, Ratchet had been trying to get him to come to the medbay.
That was near-impossible at the best of times just out of Prowl's sheer stubbornness. But now the tactician seemed to have developed a deep, almost panicked, outright mistrust of the medic.
And that hurt.
Ratchet tried hard to look past Prowl's behaviour, telling himself the tactician was simply a mech who needed some medical attention, not a friend who no longer trusted him.
He worked carefully through the tests, making certain not to miss anything, and kept up a running conversation with the unconscious Datsun.
"We'll fix whatever this is Prowl...Jazz is so worried about you, you're lucky to have a friend like him...you need a good kick in the aft though...you seem pretty healthy so far, I don't know if that's good or bad..."
Exams completed, Ratchet tried to make the tactician comfortable.
He considered for a split astrotick, then just as quickly decided against, the precautionary restraints modified into every Cybertronian medbay bunk.
The last thing he wanted to do was give Prowl a real reason to fear him.
The medic contacted Optimus Prime when the Datsun began showing signs of regaining consciousness, and waited for the commander to speak to his unbalanced second in command.