Wheeljack found it hard to focus on the briefing; every sentence sounded distorted, making it hard for him to follow what was being said. He didn't pay attention to anything, instead focusing his gaze on the floor. It was hard for him to focus on anything the sudden realisation that Jazz was no longer present. Thoughts were flashing rapidly through his processor and distracting his concentration, preventing him from actually listening to anything Prime was briefing the team on.

He was sitting across from Ratchet, the medic leaning against the table opposite him. His left leg was propped up on the chair, and the other was hanging off the edge of it. He had his arms resting on either side of him on the table, just slightly. The medic in question seemed to be deep in thought as he looked at the datapad in front of him instead of paying attention. There were many reasons why Ratchet did this—there always had been—but one thing stood out above the others. His foot tapped restlessly on the ground beneath the table, a sure sign that the medic was nervous about something, even if Wheeljack couldn't quite place what.

It wasn't often that he got to see this side of Ratchet. The Autobots' Chief Medical Officer generally remained calm when they came back to base after their missions, but once or twice Wheeljack could detect something different lurking beneath all his stoic expressions. He'd seen that look in the doctor's eyes during a few particularly harrowing missions; sometimes it seemed as though Ratchet had gone through more trauma than most of them had ever experienced. But even with the constant concern and worry that filled every aspect of his life, the medic had an almost unnatural ability to keep a straight face at all times. It wasn't surprising, given how long they've been in this war, that it should take the medic a while to let down his guard completely. Even then, though, Ratchet still managed to show an expression of what appeared to be genuine care whenever he so much as thought about anyone else.

Wheeljack had seen many instances of Ratchet caring for his team in some capacity. It didn't happen as often anymore, but whenever they needed repairs or medical assistance, it was always done with complete dedication. The medic never failed to bring his patients the energon they needed and even tried to comfort them when the mood struck him. There had been times when Ratchet would stare off into space after a particularly bad incident, but he would quickly return to his duties when he caught sight of the scientist's concerned glances. Wheeljack wasn't sure what prompted this behaviour on Ratchet's part, though he noted that the medic had been more distant and distracted recently.

Wheeljack tried to return his focus to the briefing again but still struggled to do so. The Autobots' plan for their next mission was already clear in their minds. He just wished they would be more forthcoming about what was really bothering them about their current situation and the growing number of fallen comrades. They had already received several new reports from various members of the Autobot forces, as well as a message from Hound, one of their scouts, reporting the discovery of an enemy base and a battle currently underway within its walls. That news alone was enough to worry him, but Wheeljack still tried to pretend like there weren't any additional things that bothered him while listening as Optimus Prime laid out their most important plan.

The fact that he couldn't concentrate at all made it even harder. Even if his processor hadn't been working on autopilot, his optics were staring at nothing in particular, and he was only half listening to the commander's words as the bot paced around at the front of the room. He knew Optimus was talking about the upcoming battle and how it might affect them, but the idea of facing the enemy like this... He just couldn't do it. He just couldn't, not when so many of their comrades had already died. The very thought made him want to curl up into a ball right there in front of the rest of the team. He had heard what they had all said and seen the way some of the other mechs seemed almost resigned to their fate before. They knew where this battle would take them; they had all seen it happen. But, for him, every time he saw something like that, something changed for the team. But this time? This time, he knew that nothing would change. They wouldn't win. They would die. Everyone would die. They couldn't let that happen. Not now. Not ever.

His chestplates tightened painfully as he took a few shaky intakes and pushed those dark thoughts away. There was no reason for such negative things to cloud his processor. It wasn't like this would be the last time he'd see any of these people or hear their voices again. They weren't dead yet. They didn't have to go out with a whimper. He could still get through this, and everything would be fine afterwards. No matter how much he wanted to curl up in a ball and hide from the world until it went away, he refused to give into such an urge. If he did that, then he wouldn't have any motivation left, and that was unacceptable.

"Are you alright, Wheeljack?"

Prowl's voice broke the silence in Wheeljack's processor. The scientist turned to look at him, his optics half open. The tactician was frowning down at him, optics soft and worried in a way that made his spark ache just slightly beneath his chestplates. He managed a nod.

"Yeah...Yeah," replied Wheeljack slowly, "I just...need to find something to distract me..."

Prowl gave him a sidelong glance and sighed again. He was starting to realise just how much Wheeljack struggled to deal with loss. He wished there was another way, any other way, to give him comfort or guidance. This had to be difficult for the scientist. He knew how much Jazz meant to the bot. Everyone on the team did, although none of them knew exactly why.

Wheeljack had always been able to remain calm and collected in stressful situations, but now that he felt as though he was alone, he let loose and allowed his true feelings to show. His emotions were written all over his face, and his body language and posture made it clear to anyone who knew him that he was devastated by what had happened. Wheeljack was struggling so hard to maintain his composure that Prowl worried that eventually the strain would become too great for him to handle and he would completely crumble under its weight.

"Is there anything I can do?" asked Prowl, placing a comforting hand on Wheeljack's shoulder. "Talking can be helpful. You don't have to do this alone."

Wheeljack shook his helm and looked down at the ground. "It's fine, Prowl. I'm fine." He reassured the tactician, forcing a smile on his faceplates.

"Please don't lie to me," replied Prowl gently.

"Okay," admitted Wheeljack, his voice barely audible, "no, I don't know what to do, to tell you the truth. Nothing feels real anymore. Everything seems like such a blur. I've been thinking about Jazz a lot lately," he explained, pausing for a second before continuing. "It's a lot of things. Just... I thought I'd been keeping it together, and I thought I had. But, I suppose, it didn't work. It didn't work because Jazz wasn't there."

His sentence was trailing off slowly, his voice breaking midway. He had spoken so casually before, but now he felt vulnerable. His voice trembled, and he couldn't meet Prowl's gaze anymore. The tactician placed his other arm around Wheeljack's shoulders reassuringly, pulling him close so that he could rest his helm on Wheeljack's shoulder and hold onto the bot tightly.

Wheeljack leaned into Prowl gratefully, needing physical reassurance right now.

Prowl spoke after a long silence. "Wheeljack, I know I've already told you this, but there's absolutely nothing wrong with taking time to grieve for Jazz. That doesn't mean you should stop your duties completely, but I know you won't change your behaviour because of my advice. As long as you're taking time to process and understand what happened to Jazz, everything will be okay. You'll get through this, Wheeljack. You're strong and intelligent. You'll be fine."

"Thank you, Prowl," Wheeljack said weakly, smiling slightly.

His processor started racing again as his thoughts kept going in circles around each other. He felt numb. There was absolutely nothing he could do to change the past, nor did he expect to. No matter what he did or how hard he tried, Jazz was dead. He couldn't change that fact, no matter how hard he tried. So what was the point in crying about the past? Was it that important to take time and think about the future? Would he ever get to see Jazz again or hear his voice again? Would he ever hear Jazz laugh and tease him once more? Would he ever see the smile on his faceplate again, seeing as it had faded so suddenly? Was that even possible? Wheeljack shook his helm and closed his eyes, trying to will the floodgates to open and for the overwhelming sadness to drain away. He wanted to cry and let it all out, but he knew it was pointless. He didn't need to waste time crying over meaningless things; he could cope with grief by thinking about something else. It had worked before; it might still work again. So he took a deep breath and forced himself to remain calm as he looked at Prowl with an understanding yet apologetic expression.

"Do you want me to go, Wheeljack?"

Wheeljack looked up, his optics showing a mix of desperation and sadness.

"It must be quite distressing for you. Maybe we should leave-?"

"No! "Stay!" pleaded Wheeljack, cutting off Prowl's suggestion, "stay, please. Let's try talking. I'm not ready yet, but I want company... Please stay."

Prowl remained quiet for a moment, contemplating his answer. After a few moments of thoughtful consideration, he nodded slowly. "Alright then, if you're certain... I suppose the worst is over."

They sat in uncomfortable silence until Prowl's chronometer showed that it was almost dinner time. They hadn't had much energy during the mission, but neither of them was in particular need of it at this moment. They had both managed to get their energon cubes before the meeting started, but they had lost track of time, and both of them seemed to feel the need to recharge after the stressful events they had just experienced. They also decided not to bring up the topic of Jazz again. Instead, they discussed other topics and found themselves having a nice conversation. Wheeljack was relieved by the tactician's presence. He didn't have anyone else to turn to, and the bot liked the idea of getting closer to the Autobot tactician, and maybe one day they could become friends, despite their obvious differences. For now, though, Wheeljack appreciated the company Prowl provided him.

He knew that he could talk to Prowl about anything without worrying about exposing too much, and he was grateful for the opportunity. He knew that Prowl would never judge him for opening up, and Wheeljack believed that it was Prowl's sincere desire to make sure he felt safe and comfortable. And although he doubted that the others would be able to understand what he had gone through, he knew that Prowl did. That was enough for him.

They sat in uncomfortable silence until Prowl's chronometer showed that it was almost dinner time. They hadn't had much energy during the mission, but neither of them needed it at this moment. They had both managed to get their energon cubes before the meeting started, but they had lost track of time, and both seemed to feel the need to recharge after the stressful events they had just experienced. They also decided not to bring up the topic of Jazz again. Instead, they discussed other topics and found themselves having an enjoyable conversation. Wheeljack was relieved by the tactician's presence. He didn't have anyone else to turn to, and the bot liked the idea of getting closer to the Autobot tactician, and maybe one day they could become friends, despite their obvious differences. For now, though, Wheeljack appreciated the company Prowl gave him.

He knew that he could talk to Prowl about anything without worrying about exposing too much, and he was grateful for the opportunity. He knew that Prowl would never judge him for opening up about something like this, and Wheeljack believed that it was Prowl's sincere desire to make sure he felt safe and comfortable. And although he doubted that the others would be able to understand what he had gone through, he knew that Prowl did. That was enough for him.