Mirage handed Jazz a serving of Energon, and the saboteur thanked him.
"You too Tracks man," Jazz added.
The blue mechs had taken pity on the Porsche, and invited him to their shared quarters to watch some of Jazz's favourite video clips.
What they'd actually ended up doing was commiserating together.
Mirage settled cross-legged at the head of his bunk, Tracks at the foot, and Jazz leaning against the wall in the middle.
"You don't think it's possible that Prowl may actually be gone for good, do you?" Tracks asked uncertainly.
"No way man," Jazz burst without thinking, then caught himself.
"I hope not, anyway."
"Me too Jazz," Mirage said quietly, briefly laying a hand on the Porsche's shoulder.
"Maybe he just had to get away from everyone for awhile," the Ligier added.
"Yeah, maybe," Jazz mumbled, staring at his Energon and trying to sound convincing.
He hoped they wouldn't somehow stumble on the truth, because he wouldn't be able to pretend otherwise.
They sat quietly for a while, absently gazing at the tv.
"Uh, thanks for the company guys, but I think I'm off to bed," Jazz said eventually, keen to be alone for awhile.
He pulled himself gingerly off Mirage's bunk, purposely babying his midsection a little more than necessary.
"Well, I'm glad I've still got you two as neighbours," Jazz tried to grin.
His quarters were between Prowl's and theirs.
"Good night Jazz,"
"'Night. Thanks guys."
X
X
X
X
Jazz settled on his bunk, dead tired physically, but emotionally overwrought.
He was rapidly growing increasingly impatient, wanting to know that Prowl had reached the female Autobots safely and undetected.
"Stupid temperamental spacebridge," he muttered, thinking of the time Prime, Inferno, Smokescreen, Perceptor and Bumblebee had been sent to Aron's part of the galaxy.
However, the relay satellite wouldn't be in range again for several hours.
Jazz swore silently.
He turned onto his front and slid his hand under the bunk's head-rest.
He made contact with something smooth and flat, sat up, and pulled it out.
A handwritten note, left on a small datapadd.
Jazz, I can't explain at this time the reason for my recent behaviour, so I hope you can just trust me for now.
I could not leave without thanking you for standing by me the past few weeks, and without heartfelt apologies for everything I've said and done to you and our friends.
Every action has a purpose, and the reason for my actions will soon become clear, whether or not I return.
Thank you now and always for your friendship Jazz.
You will always be my friend, don't forget that.
Prowl
"Slagging softie," Jazz cursed under his vocalizer, slightly shakily.
Prowl may not physically emote, but let him put it into writing...
"And what do you mean, whether or not I return? Damn you Prowl. You'll wanna get your aft back here in one piece. I don't want to be the one telling everybody you were acting the fool so you could go flitting off to Cybertron to save all our chassis," Jazz mumbled, staring at his friend's impossibly neat handwriting.
His gaze fell on something that must have fallen from underneath the datapadd.
He picked the datachip off his bed, slipped it into the datapadd, and activated it.
Wheeljack's formula, meticulously copied.
Jazz realized Prowl had carefully highlighted some equations he'd obviously found anomalous, and added his own.
Just as he'd been asked.
Jazz couldn't wait to see Wheeljack's reaction when he got that back.
He reread the note and buried his face in his headrest, datapadd in hand.
Prowl man, please come back in one piece.
X
X
X
X
Prowl quietly pulled into the meeting place: what used to be one of Cybertron's busy Squares; a marketplace for selling, buying and trading.
He transformed, concealed himself in the entrance of an abandoned residence, and waited.
He'd seen no Decepticons so far, but was taking no chances.
Prowl briefly wondered how the Autobots were reacting to his absence, and decided it wouldn't be pretty.
He hoped Jazz wasn't having too hard a time with it all.
Prowl shook his head.
He felt awful about his recent behaviour.
He wanted desperately to apologize to each and every Autobot, but the drive of this challenging mission pushed all that into the background for the time being.
Sort of.
A slight sound made him snap to attention.
If there was anyone around, Prowl was determined to keep them away from the female Autobots.
Their new headquarters had not yet been discovered, and had to be kept that way...especially now.
Prowl once again drew his rifle, and sprang out of the shadows.
And was tackled without warning.
"Prowl, it's so good to see you," Moonracer exclaimed, hugging the black and white mech as Firestar did the same.
They released the somewhat embarrassed tactician.
"I'm happy to see you too, but maybe we should try to be less conspicuous?"
Prowl suggested, gesturing to the open square and unshadowed area they were in.
"You haven't changed a bit," Firestar declared as they drew back into cover, "Always the strategist."
"That's what I get paid to do," he said lightly, and they stared at him.
"That was a joke," Prowl informed them.
Moonracer laughed.
"You've still got that dry sense of humour. How is everyone?"
"Belligerent," Prowl said wryly.
"It must've been hard Prowl," Firestar said softly.
"Yes...well. We should get to your headquarters before we're discovered."
He transformed, and the females did a double take at his unfamiliar and handsome alt mode.
Firestar's jaw dropped.
"If that's what you got on Earth, I wish I'd been on the Ark with you," she said, impressed.
She and Moonracer transformed and the three of them slipped back to the females' base.
X
X
X
X
Chromia and the female commander met them as they returned.
"Elita-One," Prowl transformed and greeted respectfully, inclining his head.
"Welcome Prowl," she said warmly.
"Your time on Earth hasn't changed you, young one," she said with a hint of approval and amusement as he straightened up.
"None of the Autobots know that you're here, am I right?"
"No, Elita-One, that's not right," Prowl said quietly, "I...uh...I told Jazz. I apologize for disobeying your orders-"
The female commander held up her hand.
"Do not apologize Prowl. I cannot imagine what you had to go through to remain credible. And Jazz is hard to ignore," she said with a slight smile.
"It always surprised me how well the two of you used to get along."
"I don't know what I'd do without him," Prowl admitted frankly.
Chromia smiled at him.
"He probably says the same Prowl,"
The tactician gazed around their under surface base, impressed.
"We're doing everything we can to get Cybertron back," Elita said softly, watching him.
"I wish we could be of more help Elita," Prowl said quietly, turning back to her.
"Prowl, you're all defending Earth and its people," Chromia said,
"And providing us with Energon cubes, a huge help," Firestar added.
The Autobots managed to send several shipments over the spacebridge each month, under cover of desert darkness.
The black and white mech sighed and folded his arms.
Elita noted the wilted door-panels.
"Girls, show Prowl to the resting quarters,"
"I'm not tired," he tried to convince her.
"Prowl, you're talking to a female now. We know you mechs better than you know yourselves," she told him, "Now go to bed. I'll make it an order if I have to,"
Prowl settled on the borrowed bunk under protest, but was in recharge even before the females left the room.
"I don't think I could do what Prowl had to do," Chromia said quietly, and they glanced at the offline mech.
"You know Prowl was always the one with the cast-iron manifolds, for all his quiet ways," Firestar reminded them.
"I miss the mechs. All of them," Moonracer sighed.
"Come on, let him rest," Chromia said, and they left him in peace.
Prowl could not be kept down for long however, and was back on his feet less than two Earth hours later.
The female Autobots were keen to hear how Elita's plan had been carried out, and entreated the tactician to fill them in over Energon.
Prowl hesitated.
"There's a much more pressing matter at hand," he said, glancing at Elita-One.
The female commander gave him her serene smile.
"We are awaiting a computer analysis Prowl. Go ahead,"
"Now tell!" Moonracer exclaimed, once they were settled in what passed as their lounge/mess/rec area.
Prowl absently saw how lucky the Earth Autobots were; the Ark wasn't luxurious, but it comfortably housed them all, and they had all the planet as a 'backyard'
The females couldn't set foot outside their base without endangering it and themselves.
And he realized he'd missed the female Autobots' company.
"Holy hexadynes," Prowl said, borrowing Jazz's favourite expression, "Where do I start?"
He recounted some of the more painful incidents.
"I won't ask what the hardest part was Prowl -the whole scenario must've been agonizing- but what's one thing that you thought was difficult to act out?" Chromia asked.
Prowl didn't even have to stop to think about that one.
"When Prime ordered me to show up late, and as if I'd been over-energizing the night before...that was very difficult," he said with a slight smile.
"Sounds like Jazz was impossible to get rid of, if you caved in and told him it was setup," Firestar mused, and Prowl nodded.
"There were several Autobots I just couldn't shake -up to a point- but Jazz was more than impossible. That's why everything I was doing kept getting worse...and even then Jazz wouldn't walk away from me."
"He's one of a kind," Moonracer said softly.
"That he is," Prowl agreed with conviction, sipping the warm liquid. He'd forgotten how smooth Cybertronian Energon was.
"He must have derailed your plans a few times Prowl," Chromia said with a laugh.
"You have no idea. One of the worst was when he stopped me in the desert, the evening I was originally meant to get to the spacebridge."
"What happened?" Firestar asked.
"Jazz managed to catch me, literally, and was set on taking me back to the Ark. That really threw me. If I'd been able to outrun him, he still would have seen me enter the spacebridge, which would have raised too many questions. If I'd stunned him unconsciousness -which I know I wouldn't have been able to bring myself to do anyway- there was always a chance the Decepticons would find him before the Autobots," Prowl shuddered involuntarily at the thought.
"It was just as well Optimus contacted Jazz when he did. When Prime told him to bring me back, I knew we'd have to postpone. That was unplanned and unexpected. Things got a little out of hand."
"What did you do?" Moonracer asked eagerly.
"I, um, "trashed" my quarters at one point. I actually injured Ironhide. I gave poor Ratchet a night he probably won't forget,"
"Oh Primus Prowl, what went on?" Chromia said with a smile, "What did you do to Doc Miracle?"
Prowl explained.
"How I would have loved to see that," Chromia laughed, long and loud.
"Prowl, master strategist, considered silly as a wheel!"
Prowl folded his arms with a wry smile.
"I can practically guarantee there are Autobots questioning my sanity as we speak."
X
X
X
X
"He's crazy," Sunstreaker stated flatly.
Optimus Prime had tried to keep Prowl's "desertion" as low-key as possible, encouraging business as usual.
But naturally an event like that was so out of the ordinary, and something that had never happened to the Autobots before.
It was all anyone could talk about, on duty or off.
"Sunstreaker man, you can't say that, not until you're really sure what was going through his CPU," Jazz said softly.
The warrior snorted.
"What was going through his CPU? Not much Jazz, obviously!"
The saboteur didn't have the patience or strength at the moment to argue the Lamborghini down.
Jazz sighed and glanced around the lively common room as Sunstreaker stalked out.
Wheeljack was seated across the table from him, still trying to re-calculate his formula, and the Porsche ached to hand over the intact datachip.
"Any luck Wheeljack?" Jazz asked him.
"No," the engineer replied shortly, without looking up.
Ouch, Jazz said to himself, wondering if he could talk the Lancia into giving it up for awhile.
Wheeljack could be just as stubborn as Prowl in his own way sometimes.
Jazz looked around and spotted Bluestreak as he wandered in.
The gunner sat next to Wheeljack and heaved a world-weary sigh.
Jazz shook himself off and attempted a smile.
"Hey Bluestreak. What's happening man?"
The gunner looked at him.
"Prowl was teaching me to play TechChess," he said forlornly, folding his arms on the table and resting his chin on them.
Prowl was a Grand Master of the Cybertronian game of logic, and loved teaching it as much as playing it.
"I can give you a couple of rounds if you like," Jazz offered, "I'm not as good as Prowl, but-"
"It's not the game Jazz. Prowl...Prowl would talk to me while we played. Not about our duties, or the war, or anything like that, just -stuff. He's always so quiet, you could never tell what was going through his head,"
The saboteur listened silently.
Bluestreak sighed and sat up.
"It's different for you Jazz. You're his best friend. I mean, were his best friend, uh, well, you probably still are, but, um-"
"It's all right Bluestreak, I know what you mean,"
"Yeah," the silver Datsun agreed gratefully, "Jazz, I've always looked up to him, and I know Prowl keeps an optic on me, but I never thought that he considered me a friend friend...just the klutzy kid who needed watching. But those conversations Jazz...Prowl told me about his old home on Cybertron, his creator...things like that,"
The gunner looked at him mournfully.
"Stuff you'd tell a friend about. Jazz?"
"Yeah?"
"Do you think I might have done something to make Prowl-"
"Oh man. Bluestreak, no," Jazz cut in firmly, "I thought that too about me, but I don't think it has anything to do with any of us, ok?"
"I just can't work out what he was thinking," Wheeljack muttered, returning from his own plane of reality.
Jazz leaned over and slowly pulled the datapadd out of his grip.
"Give it a rest man,"
Wheeljack sighed and rested his head on his hand, elbow on table, idly tapping an empty Energon receptacle with his other hand.
"That energy collector would be operational by now," he said despondently, but without rancour, Jazz noted.
"I'm sorry Wheeljack," Jazz said quietly.
Bluestreak and the engineer looked at him oddly.
"Why are you sorry Jazz?" Wheeljack asked.
"Uh...well, I saw how hard you worked on this formula thing man...and for it to be wrecked for no reason..."
"Yeah, that was pretty awful," Bluestreak easily agreed, to Jazz's relief.
He caught sight of Bumblebee as he wandered in, and hastily called him over.
"Hey guys," the Minibot said, sitting down, and looking just miserable as Bluestreak.
"I won't ask what the matter is," Wheeljack said.
"I miss him," Bumblebee said simply, with a huge sigh.
"It just doesn't feel right. It's like...like..."
"Like something's missing," Jazz supplied.
That's how he'd been feeling up until Prowl's revelation.
"Yeah," Bumblebee agreed unhappily.
"I know what's missing. A few microcircuits out of the rustheap's central processor,"
a voice sneered from the next table.
"Cliffjumper. Don't start," Jazz warned, low.
The red Minibot snorted but turned back to his Energon without another word.
But his comment sparked off some of the other Autobots present, and accusations were soon flying.
Jazz left the common room then, unable to take the bewildered, miserable, or accusing faces any longer.
"Prime, I can't stand this! I don't know how Prowl faked it for so long, and so well," Jazz exclaimed, flinging himself into a seat in the commander's office.
"The weight of what he's doing kept Prowl on track Jazz," Optimus explained quietly, "But I know what you mean. It's very difficult."
"I bet pretending to be overenergized nearly floored him,"
Optimus chuckled.
"Yes. And so did "trashing" his quarters,"
He paused.
"I was sorry I suggested that however, when I saw what happened to Prowl's hands..."
The commander trailed off.
"Prowl's ok Prime, Ratchet fixed him up," Jazz assured him.
"I know," Prime said, shaking himself off.
He looked at the Porsche.
"What about you Jazz? Are you all right?"
Prime gestured to his middle.
"It's ok Prime, it doesn't hurt as much now that I know it wasn't intentional," Jazz said with a slight grin.