Rhythm & Hues: Carry on Dancing

Chapter 6

Monday


"Aren't you two supposed to be seeing Ratchet right now?" Prime ached all over. That long drive in the rain to extract his second-in-command and saboteur certainly helped none either.

Hues flicked her doorwings. "We asked if we could postpone for a few cycles. He was fine with it. Said he was working on someone anyway."

Ah, yes, the CMO had called for Prowl and Jazz almost as soon as Skyfire had landed. Optimus leaned his elbows on his desk, hands clasped placidly in front of him. "Very well then, what can I help you two with?"

Hues drew her wings up. "We thought long and hard on what you told Rhythm."

Rhythm nodded sagely. "Long and hard."

Optimus kept his face impassive, not twitching a servo. Dancers could read emotion into the smallest movement. It's what made bots like Jazz so good at their job.

"We've decided to join your cause."

He looked from one femme to the other and allowed himself a small sigh. "May I ask why?"

Air hissed from between Rhythm's dental plates. "Destroying Starscream good enough reason?"

Prime glowered down at the blue Esprit. "Vengeance is never a reason enough."

Hues swatted her sister's shoulder. "If it's the only reason, then yes, Prime, you're right. But it's not our only reason." Prime ignored the buzz of their brief coded conversation.

Rhythm's doorwings drooped and her gaze dropped to the orange floor. "I can't stand the thought of being so useless when my sister needs me again. Wouldn't you fight to defend one you love? What hope have we, as unarmed, unarmored neutrals, against the Decepticons?"

Hues nodded. "I don't know what I'd do if I found myself without Rhythm. I fight to see her live."

Prime regarded the twins in a long moment of silence. "Very well if that's your decision, so be it." He stood and walked around his desk to lay a hand on their shoulders. "Rhythm, Hues, welcome to the Autobots. Do either of you have talents outside of your arts that we might use?"

"The band couldn't always afford a medic for repairs, so I stepped in for some of the basic tune ups and minor leaks or shorts." Rhythm shrugged self-consciously.

Hues hugged Rhythm's shoulder. "You undervalue yourself." The red-orange dancer turned to Optimus with a proud smile. "She was on the payroll as a nurse on the Trithulus. Never needed to be called on it though. I, on the other hand," her smile turned rueful, "have no talents short of my dancing, well except for something that has no place on the battlefield."

Rhythm nodded, cheeky grin on her face.. "Unhappily she's right. If she has any useful talents, I've never seen them."

Prime considered the twins. "We'll see what we can do." Ratchet will be ecstatic to have another helper around the med bay, as long as she didn't get underfoot. "Report to Ratchet and introduce yourselves to Prowl, he's in the med bay now." Dismissed."

They hesitated, glancing at one another in uncertainty. The air hummed with their silent chatter.

"I always welcome questions or concerns from my crew. What's on your mind?"

Rhythm drew her chin up. "Sir, I know we're still under quarantine, but are we restricted from, well, to be blunt sir, from interfacing with any officers or other mech once we're released?"

Optimus returned to his seat at his desk, servos squeaking in protest. "No, I wouldn't do that to anyone under my command. I'm sure I don't need tell you of proper times and places."

Rhythm's optics flashed. "Of course not. "

Hues' doorwings twitched. "Just to set limits, would this include yourself?"

He frowned at them from under his mask. "Dismissed."

The dancer twins scooted out of his office, leaving only the drone of their tight-linked comm. chatter. Prime rubbed at his audio receptor, and then opened a channel to Ratchet.


Jazz lay on the gurney Ratchet had all but thrown him on, humming happily. A few tables down Ratchet grumbled and growled at Prowl's condition. After two weeks incognito around a bunch of human terrorists, it sure felt good to be back home.

He didn't even lift his head when the med bay door whooshed open. At least not until he heard the light step of small metal feet, and the sweet voice that greet the CMO.

"Hey Ratchet, we're here for our daily torture session. And we're supposed to meet some named Prowl?"

"Yes, and Wheeljack and I are supposed to design weapons and armor for you both. Sit down by the scanner until I'm finished. Prowl will be over in an astrosecond." Ratchet went on to grumble good-naturedly about more bots to repair, and didn't he have enough of a workload.

Jazz pushed himself onto one elbow, his mouth agape. He couldn't believe his optics. They looked exactly as they did when they boarded the doomed ship an eon ago.

"Hues? Rhythm?"

The femmes looked at him, startled to hear their names. Confusion marred their brows. Jazz sat all the way up. His jaw worked in wordless surprise for a moment. "Aw, c'mon. I know I look diff'rent, but y'should recognize m'voice."

Suddenly Rhythm narrowed her optics. "Smoothbeat?"

He grinned. "One and only. Though it's Jazz now." He transmitted the slight written variation to his new name.

Two pairs of purple optics widened and the twins rushed him. He gathered them to his chestplate in a crushing hug they eagerly returned.

"Babydolls, you've grown so much!"

Hues clouted his shoulder. "What are you talking about? We don't grow." She leaned her head against his shoulder, a sigh escaping her vents.

"It's an earth saying. Humor an old mech."

Someone cleared their vocalizer. Jazz grimaced up at Prowl. "Prowl man; guess it's my turn for Doc Ratch's treatment. But first, Prowl, these're Rhythm and Hues. Babydolls, y'said y' needed to meet him, this here's Prowl."

A smile briefly flitted across the tactician's face. "Pleasure."

Jazz squeezed the tires on their shoulders. "We can catch up when you're done here."

Ratchet shooed them away. Jazz partially listened as Prowl informed the dancers of what would be expected of them and what they should expect in return.

Ratchet spoke without looking up from examining Jazz's feet. "How do you know those two?"

The saboteur couldn't tear his optics away from the twins. "They used t'be parta m'band. I never thought I'd see them again."

Ratchet paused and made a non-commital hum. "There's more to it than that." Then he jabbed Jazz's knee. "What the slag'd you do to your feet?"

Jazz smirked. "Ran through a gravel quarry." He turned his gaze back to the twins. "Guess y'could say they're my creations." He shrugged.

Ratchet sputtered. "You're cre-" he paused as he realized what cheerful mech meant. "Oh, I see. You must have been worried when they disappeared."

"Very. Th' whole band was. M'name was on the datawork, but they was really all a' ours." Jazz tilted his head. "What exactly are they here for anyway?"

Ratchet looked up at the Porsche. "Routine virus check."

Jazz's energon pump seized for a beat."What-"

Ratchet waved off the other mech's alarm. "It's just a precaution, routine. I haven't found anything to be worried about."

Jazz relaxed and Ratchet finished in silence. He ordered both Prowl and Jazz out so he could work on the femmes.

Jazz wrapped Rhythm and Hues into another embrace. "We'll catch up with each other after Ratch's done with ya." The he scooted out to catch up with the second-in-command.

"Howzabout that Prowl, you've been saying we needed more hands."

Prowl didn't even look at Jazz. "We also need more room. That should be our primary objective before more troops.

Bluestreak rounded a corner ahead of them. His optics brightened when he saw the other Datsun. "Prowl! I heard you came back way early this morning. I was hoping to catch you in the med bay before I left on patrol. How was Brazil?"

A genuine smile lit the stoic tactician's eyes. "It was very wet and very muddy."

"Well, I've gotta get going, but it's good to know you're home safe. And you too, Jazz. I missed you, everyone did."

Prowl reached out and lightly grasped the young gunner's elbow. Though the smile had already faded from his lips, his optics remained a contented bright blue. A grin suddenly tugged at the corner of Prowl's mouth. "I hear you found Rhythm and Hues?"

Bluestreak nodded bouncing on his heels.

Prowl leaned forward until his face was only inches form the grey Datsun's. "Then I'll have you to thank if these twins are as much trouble as our resident set."

The gunner's jaw worked soundlessly. Until Prowl leaned back with a smirk on his face. Bluestreak punched Prowl lightly on the shoulder for the tease.

"Better get going or you'll be late."

They said their good days and Bluestreak dashed down the hall.

The tactician's optics lingered for a moment, and then they slid a glare at Jazz's grinning face.

"Y'know y'should just say that missed him."

Prowl turned and resumed his pace down the corridor. "He knows."

"Don't mean y'can't tell him."

Prowl stopped abruptly and turned on Jazz. "I did not ask for your advice."

"Hey man, chill. I'm just tryin' ta help. I know he loves you, does it hurt to show that you love him?" The saboteur paused and tilted his head to one side. "Y'do don't ya?"

Prowl balled his fists at his side and his door panels drew back. "And what would you know about relationships?" Prowl growled. "When have you ever been anything more than a one cycle stand?"

Jazz's cheerful demeanor dissipated. "In the middle of a war ain't the time or place for a meaningful relationship. I mean," he continued when Prowl looked ready to take umbrage, "what you do is fine for you. Slag, we'da prob'ly lost Blue a vorns ago if you hadn't been here. But me, I don't wanna hurt that much. Besides, it's just not in my nature to stick with one mech or femme. Spread the love, y'know."

Prowl didn't lessen his glare, for a long moment. Suddenly all anger vanished from his face, replaced by his normal, neutral expression. "Just how did you know them anyways?"

Jazz didn't have to ask which them. "Aw man, everyone's gonna be askin' me that, ain't they? They were in m'band, specially designed an' ev'rything."

Prowl froze midstride. "They are dancers?"

"Yup."

The tactician resumed his interrupted step. "What does that make you?"

Jazz's grin returned. "An Autobot."

"Very funny."


"It's open." Jazz had to raise his voice to speak over the loud music that played. The twins took turns relating their story, a much more involved and amusing version than the one they'd told Optimus. Blaster stepped in, smile in place as he paused to absorb the sounds.

Rhythm paused, suddenly eyeing Jazz's form. "Are we going to be reformatted that much?"

The saboteur looked at Blaster, who shrugged and took a seat next to Hues. Jazz hadn't had the chance to talk to Prime about it. He'd had a lot of datawork to catch up on after his two weeks away.

"Well, babydoll, I can't say either way. I doubt it though. Last I checked we just don't have those kinda resources."

The dancers both looked relieved to hear it. Then Hues turned to Blaster. "Blaster, be a dear and help us talk Jazz into dancing with us tomorrow."

Jazz shook his head, grinning. "Sorry, babydoll, like I been tellin' you, this bot don't do shows no more. I'm designed for stealth now."

The communications officer patted Hues' knee. "Sorry there, kitten, gonna have to agree with him." His blue optics met Jazz's visor. "They tried to talk me into it, too. Don't know where they got the idea."

Rhythm reached over Hues and prodded Blaster's chest. "Normally only dancers had cassette storage. Don't think times've changed that much."

Blaster grinned. "But I can still help you choose the tunes."

The saboteur laughed at the twins' disappointed pouts. "The Jazzman can do that, too. I know the dances you're good at; it's just findin' a song to go with it. What did you have in mind."

Engines moaned in defeat before Rhythm finally spoke. "Well, since this is supposed to be for Spike, I sat and talked with him yesterday. I didn't realize humans had so many forms of music. And dance! Oh, Jazz, you have to take us to one of their performances sometime. It seems so exotic!"

Hues grumbled her opinion on that.

The four of them sat discussing the performance tomorrow. They agreed that two dances would be the limit, as that was all the time they had to prepare for. Then Jazz ran them through a few turns in an impromptu rehearsal. Finally the exhausted twins left.

Blaster watched the door close behind them, a contemplative look on his face. He turned to Jazz, sky blue optics winking merrily. "So, Jazz, just how do you know them so well?"


Author's note: One more chapter and this part of the story arc will be done.