Note From The Author
Thank you very, very much to everyone who has reviewed my fic so far. Some of you have commented on the update speed, so I thought I'd tell you this fic is actually completed. I'm just posting the chapters as I see fit :) Again, thanks for the reviews, they mean a great deal to me. I hope you all enjoy the rest of Chameleon... PS: I'm loving everyone's various theories on what's up with Prowl, and the sympathy toward Jazz... PA
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"I had to sedate him," Ratchet informed Jazz tightly, "He'll be out for awhile."
The saboteur had shot to the medbay, after hearing about the carry-on through the Ark's lightspeed grapevine.
"Oh man," Jazz moaned to himself, gazing at the Datsun.
Unconscious, the tactician looked just the way he'd always known him.
"Ratchet...what's going to happen to him?"
The saboteur whispered, completely bewildered.
The medic hesitated.
What would happen to Prowl if he continued behaving this way? Would Prime send him to Cybertron, to be placed in a lockup? If he was no longer an Autobot, would that make him fair game for the Decepticons...either as a target, or a new recruit?
Ratchet felt right down to his very essence that Prowl would never betray the Autobot cause, no matter what his mental state.
But why was he doing this?
"I don't know Jazz," he said.
Ratchet felt for the Porsche, plainly seeing his concern for his friend.
"Jazz...I really admire the way you're sticking by him," the medic said quietly.
Jazz turned to him.
"Man...I thought about it. If I were the one flipping out, I reckon Prowl'd stand by me too, no matter what. That's why I'm doing it," he said softly, settling into a seat next to the medbunk.
"And I bet he's not comfortable. Prowl sleeps on his side, curled up like a tekton manifold," Jazz added absently.
The Datsun was in the standard 'recovery' position: stretched out on his back.
Ratchet looked at Jazz sympathetically.
Only a good friend would know that.
The medic gave him a pat on the shoulder and left him to it.
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Jazz watched quietly as the Datsun gradually came back to himself.
Ratchet had explained that cerebral consciousness would come before physical.
Jazz had to admit that was probably a good thing.
Prowl's dulled optics slowly cleared and Jazz leaned close as the tactician mumbled.
"Prime..."
Jazz laid a hand on his arm.
"Prowl man, it's Jazz. Are you ok?"
Awareness now rapidly caught up to the Datsun.
"Let go of me," Prowl growled to the ceiling, still unable to move.
Jazz glanced up as Ratchet slowly approached the medbunk.
Prowl managed to shift his gaze to the medic.
"What have you done to me?" he whispered in pure terror.
Jazz slightly tightened his hold on the black forearm, wishing with all his soul that he could take the Datsun's causeless fear away.
"Prowl, no one's going to hurt you," Jazz said levelly, as reassuringly as he could manage.
"I had to sedate you Prowl," Ratchet told him gently, "It will start to wear off soon."
The fear in his patient's optics was heartbreaking.
He noted the automatic readings above the medbunk.
"About half an hour Prowl and you should be right," the medic told him, attempting a smile, extremely uncomfortable about being thought of as seriously threatening.
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"Jazz, he's not going to be able to hold this yet," Ratchet said quietly, indicating the serving of Energon in his hand.
The saboteur glanced at the still slightly-fuzzy Prowl, hands upturned and resting on the medbunk.
"Ratchet man, think he'll let me help him?" Jazz asked the medic in an undertone.
Ratchet sighed.
"Who knows Jazz,"
He handed it to the Porsche, and Jazz wandered back to the medbunk.
"Prowl man, Energon," Jazz said hesitantly, holding up the pink liquid in its receptacle, as the Datsun gave him a cold, unreadable stare.
"Uh, I'll have to help you, ok? Your hands aren't up to it,"
"Slag off!"
"Come on man, you must be feeling pretty empty by now," Jazz said softly.
The Datsun clenched his jaw and stared straight through him.
The saboteur looked at Ratchet helplessly.
"Prowl, you can either let us help you ingest this Energon, or I can knock you out again, stick tubing down your throat, and get it into you like that. Because you will have it one way or another," the medic spoke up calmly.
"You're trying to poison me aren't you!"
"Holy hexadynes," Jazz mumbled.
He swallowed a mouthful of the Energon while Prowl looked on panickedly.
"Tastes pretty good to me man," Jazz shrugged, holding it to the light.
He offered it again.
"Prowl, please," Jazz begged.
The Datsun didn't answer, but he didn't refuse either.
After a brief pause he began struggling to a sitting position.
Saboteur and medic left him severely alone, knowing help wouldn't be tolerated.
Once he was upright, Jazz warily helped him swallow some of the pink liquid.
Jazz glanced triumphantly over his shoulder at the medic, and Prowl chose that split second to spray an entire mouthful of warm Energon across the saboteur's chest and grille.
"Slag me dead," Ratchet said in complete disbelief, hands on cheeks.
Prowl dropped horizontal again, forearm over optics.
The medic glanced at the stupefied Jazz, Energon in hand and running down his front.
He dug up a cleaning cloth and handed it to the saboteur, who just stood there.
"Jazz!" Ratchet snapped his fingers in front of the Porsche.
"Sorry man," Jazz muttered, "I thought I was dreaming,"
"It's no dream Jazz," the medic said dryly as the saboteur put the pink liquid down, and made a half-hearted attempt to clean himself up.
They glanced at the inert Datsun, then each other.
"Round Two, here I come," Jazz sighed, trying to get over the latest shocker from Prowl, and picked up the Energon again.
Prowl removed his arm and glared.
"Let me, Jazz," Ratchet said evenly, looking the Datsun in the optics, "If he does that to me, I'll do it back,"
"No! Get away!"
"Ok, that's it!" Ratchet fumed, throwing his hands up.
"Jazz, get me the sedative that's in that medical bay," he said, pointing.
The medic fished the medbay's master key out of a subspace pocket and tossed it to the Porsche.
"Wait," Prowl said, low, as Jazz kneeled in front of the sealed storage bay.
Medic and saboteur paused.
"Give me the slagging stuff. Then leave me alone,"
"Fine Prowl," Ratchet said calmly.
Jazz handed over the warm Energon, and Ratchet slowly, gently, saw that it all went down.
"That better man?" Jazz asked as the medic resettled him.
"What's it to you?" Prowl growled.
Jazz wondered if he should answer, but didn't need to when Optimus Prime strode into the medbay.
"Jazz, Ratchet, let me speak to Prowl," he said flatly, without even inquiring as to his condition.
Weak though he still was, Prowl managed to sit up and fling the empty Energon receptacle at the commander.
Prime easily dodged, and the receptacle shattered on the opposite wall.
Optimus Prime silently folded his arms and coolly regarded the Datsun.
"You asked for him, Prowl," Jazz told him quietly.
"I did not, you lying rustheap,"
"I wouldn't lie to you Prowl," the saboteur said simply, and he and Ratchet left the medbay.
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The saboteur re-settled in his seat next to Prowl's medbunk.
The Datsun had unexpectedly fallen back into recharge, and Ratchet wouldn't allow him to be disturbed.
Optimus Prime had spoken to him privately, but wouldn't disclose much.
The only thing Prime had repeated -giving in to the saboteur's begging- had been a cryptic comment Prowl had made.
"It will be Primus, not Decepticons, who I go to from here."
Jazz prayed something would get through to his friend, before it was too late.
He watched Prowl, and it was clear from the manner in which he slept that he was distressed about something.
The Datsun twitched fitfully, muttering unintelligibly, not being still for an astrominute.
Jazz shook his head, wishing he could do something.
Prowl had always been a restless sleeper.
Jazz had discovered and learned to live with that long ago, having shared quarters and tiered bunks with the tactician in Iacon.
But Prowl's customary tossing and turning had nothing on his current resting attitude.
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Once he'd sufficiently recovered, Prime stunned everyone by putting Prowl back on duty.
Several Autobots had begun questioning the Datsun's very sanity after the medbay carry on.
Sideswipe had seized on his Primus remark, reinforcing his view on what was going through Prowl's CPU.
Jazz still just could not accept that as a possibility.
It scared him to think about.
The saboteur tried to keep Prowl in sight as much as possible, resolutely ignoring the verbal barbs, and most of the Ark's advice to keep away from him.
Jazz sighed, rubbed his head, and tried to concentrate on the control room monitor in front of him.
He sensed the room's tension level sharply rise as the Datsun stalked in and took up his post in between the Porsche and Ironhide.
"Hey man," Jazz said carefully.
Prowl gave him no acknowledgement.
Jazz tried to be optimistic.
Prowl wouldn't speak, but at least he was back where he belonged, on duty.
The monotonous monitoring shifts were boring however -to say the least- when not even shop talk was heard.
Jazz glanced at the silent Datsun, an island unto himself.
He would have given anything -anything- to hear Prowl state one of his thousands of paralyzingly boring snippets of Earth's historical data.
That's what he'd do when he and Jazz were both assigned 'computerized guard duty'
Of course, Jazz annoyed him back with TV jingles.
It was a long-running and good-natured battle.
It used to be, Jazz reminded himself sadly, concentrating on the monitors as they quietly asked for his attention.
The black and white mech leaned back in his seat, swinging it slowly left to right off his foot, hands clasped behind his head.
He ignored the monitors in front of him as they began cheeping.
Jazz, busy with his own screens, glanced at him once, twice, three times before speaking up.
"Prowl, check the area that Sky Spy is over," the saboteur said.
The Datsun made no move to do so. It was as if Jazz hadn't even spoken.
Jazz and Ironhide exchanged a glance behind him.
The Porsche leaned over and did it himself, noticing Optimus Prime looking in their direction.
"I'm surprised you saw that. Most of the time you wouldn't even know if your aft was on fire," Prowl said coolly to the ceiling, folding his arms under his chest.
"I know what a precautionary warning signal is," Jazz couldn't help snapping.
"You haven't got a slagging clue!" Prowl cursed, kicking his chair backwards as he suddenly stood up, bristling.
"Now you just settle down, you young hellion," Ironhide said, sharp.
He got up, gripped the black and white mech by the shoulders, and forced him to sit back down.
Prowl reacted the instant Ironhide let go, leaping up with a right hook that sent the big Autobot to the floor, Energon running from the corner of his optic.
The skeleton night crew gave a collective gasp.
Jazz scrambled out of his seat and dropped to his knees beside Ironhide, as the red mech managed a sitting position.
Energon ran in rivulets over his left cheek from his cracked optic.
"What in Primus' name are you thinking?"
Jazz burst out, staring at the Datsun in utter disbelief.
"I'm all right Jazz," Ironhide said, low, looking the door-panelled mech right in the optics as he got to his feet.
Prowl ignored him, instead watching Jazz's every move as he straightened, the way a tigress watches her prey before moving in for the kill.
"Prowl!" Optimus Prime thundered from across the room and began to stride over.
"Don't come near me," Prowl hissed, slowly and deliberately, door-panels drawn back, fists clenched, and nothing but cold fury in his optics.
"Autobots, stay where you are," Prime warned, pausing.
Jazz glanced quickly around the room, freeze-framing his comrade's reactions.
Bumblebee, looking like he was in the middle of a nightmare.
Hound, watching very warily.
Sideswipe, ready to tear Prowl's optics out.
Tracks, jaw almost scraping the floor.
Prowl suddenly launched himself at Optimus Prime, and Jazz pulled it together enough to tackle the tactician around the midsection, from behind.
Prowl tore himself free and spun around, executing an Autobot version of a roundhouse kick that sent the Porsche halfway across the room and onto the floor.
Prowl lunged, pinning the Porsche by the shoulders, one knee and shin over his thighs, and the latter stunned beyond belief as the livid Datsun shook him violently .
"Prowl!" Jazz gasped in pain and shock.
Prime gathered himself.
"Tracks! Sideswipe! Restrain him," he ordered.
The two warriors hesitated.
The Datsun positively radiated outright fury.
"Now," Optimus Prime rumbled.
They plunged in and wrestled the cursing mech off Jazz, taking all their combined effort just to keep him in check.
"Prowl, don't fight them," Jazz begged, knowing how rough the red Lamborghini could get at times...and was getting right now.
"Slag you! And them!" Prowl cursed, struggling madly against the bigger warriors.
The saboteur got up painfully, hands pressed to his midsection.
Jazz was certain he saw a flicker of emotion -though he couldn't be sure what kind- pass through the tactician's optics as he glanced briefly at the Energon seeping between the saboteur's fingers.
Tracks and Sideswipe somehow got a set of Energon shackles on Prowl, but it didn't stop him struggling.
Bumblebee slipped between Prime and Ironhide to front the Datsun.
"Prowl! Please don't," the Minibot begged, "I know my old friend is in there somewhere listening to me. Please settle down,"
Miraculously, Prowl submitted, and stood still between his guards, staring at the floor, panting.
"Good job Bumblebee," Prime said quietly, laying a hand briefly on the Volkswagen's shoulder.
"Take him to the holding cells," he added.
Jazz snapped back to reality.
"Prime, no," he begged.
"I'm sorry Jazz," he said grimly.
"Hound, take him to the medbay," Prime added.
Jazz, stunned almost out of his senses, allowed himself to be led into the hall by the scout.