Pairing: Prowl/Jazz
Disclaimer: Elton John & Tim Rice own 'Friends never say goodbye'; HasTak, etc., own Transformers and keep all the profits; I just write about them.
Chapter 3 - Fading hope
"Today's the day."
The whisper made it through the Ark at record speed, in spite of the fact that it never made it onto the message boards. The news was passed from mech to mech and everyone who heard understood what it meant with little more being said.
Some took it stoically. It was past time, they said. It should not have been dragged out like this. The whole process had been demeaning to the memory of the mech they had lost.
Some took it badly. Jazz was not the only one who had been in denial over the prognosis, and those affected were not always those who others had predicted. Bluestreak, yes, but Gears? And Cosmos?
A few were angry. How could Jazz have agreed to this? Should he not keep trying just a little longer? Yes, it had been nearly six Earth months since Prowl had first onlined and well over a year since the original injury, and yes it was true that every one of Ratchet's predictions about his condition had come to pass, but still it was such a short period of time. Barely one eightieth of a vorn. How could that be long enough to make this kind of decision about one's own bondmate?
Everyone was vocal about the decision in their own way; everyone except for Optimus, who quietly thanked Trailbreaker for passing on the information then went to his quarters and shut the door.
*Query: designation-new-mech?*
It hurt. Every time he walked in here and had to explain again who he was, it hurt.
*Designation equal to Jazz.* he responded automatically, and in spite of all the previous disappointments he still found himself looking for any hint of recognition as that 'new' data was assimilated.
There was none. When they touched Prowl sometimes gave a flicker of acknowledgement, but it was subconscious. It was just one spark responding to the other. There was no connection beyond that. Sometimes that knowledge hurt so much that he went days without daring to touch him at all, unwilling to see that burst of unconditional trust in those innocent optics even one more time.
But he always relented eventually. It was better than nothing, and he had so little left as comfort.
Prowl was now permanently attached to this berth. At first he had been able to process energon, though he had eaten only when prompted to do so. But each time his memory cache overflowed it corrupted some more of his already damaged programming, and he now had to be connected to other machines to do the conversion for him and to keep his pump functioning.
Not that he noticed. He noticed very little unless it was pointed out to him. It never even occurred to him to move more than his head unless he was directed to do so.
There had been several attempts to reboot his main processors, all failed. Wheeljack had built several elaborate contraptions to increase the capacity of his memory cache but those had failed too. Twice, they had managed to force power through the damaged circuitry, but the only effect had been Prowl screaming in pain which he forgot again the instant they stopped.
"So I guess this is it." Jazz murmured, slumping into the chair that he had spent far too many groons in recently.
Prowl cocked his head curiously to the side but made no comment. He could not understand anything beyond the most basic of mech-speak. He had even lost his Praxian accent and dialect, something that had sent Bluestreak into hysterics when that had been discovered: after all, that would have been hardwired into him before he was first activated.
"Logically I know there ain't any hope left." he continued dully. "We've tried everything. I know what you'd say if y'could: you'd say I gotta let you go. Whether I come with you, or stay behind without you, I gotta end this."
A machine on the far side of the berth whirred as it began its scheduled task.
"You'd also say I've gotta stay. Or maybe you wouldn't, but you'd think it. Bad enough the unit losin' you without losin' me too, right? Only... only I don't wanna stay here alone without ya, sparkles. So I keep on keepin' you on, even though..."
He stopped, tired of repeating the same old arguments. He had gone through this monologue before.
As time had passed he had talked more and more to fill the silences that he had never liked but always found tolerable in Prowl's presence. Sometimes he told him stories, spoke of the daily doings of the crew; sometimes he sang; sometimes he yelled or keened or just broke down and screamed.
The medics had learned to leave him alone, no matter what they heard, but Prowl... Prowl had never responded at all. Not a flinch, not a query, just that curious, vacant expression, waiting for the next instruction.
"I made a decision this mornin'." he confessed finally, staring at his hands. "Told Ratch. Told him..."
His voice cracked and he trembled.
"I can't keep doin' this, Prowler. There're mechs gettin' hurt because everyone's distracted, an' one o'these days someone's gonna get killed an' you'd hate that. You came in t'this unit to stop that happenin' an' if you knew someone got killed cause o'you it'd hurt you so bad. So it has to stop. You have to stop."
His vocaliser began to emit a low keening and he struggled to get out the words he wanted to say.
"It ain't gonna hurt. Ratchet promised me. You'll go into recharge an'... an' y'won't know when it happens. I'll be wit'ya the whole time. It'll jus' be you an' me."
He glanced up and searched Prowl's expression for some sign that he understood. There was nothing.
*I love you.* he finished desperately, reaching out to clasp Prowl's nearest hand in both of his own.
Prowl twitched as the bond stirred between them.
*Processing... processing... acknowledged. Statement confirmed as valid. Prowl loves Jazz.*
"Yeah, but you don't remember me." Jazz whispered, pressing his helmet to Prowl's upper arm just below his wheel. "But it's okay. There won't be any more confusion now."
"You can't do this!" Sunstreaker screamed, struggling to get to the closed door.
Sideswipe held his brother tightly, helping Ironhide and Trailbreaker hold him back. Everyone had heard Sunstreaker's increasingly vehement arguments over the past few orns, but only he really understood why his twin was so upset - after all they were the only other bonded pair here, though in rather a different way.
Sunstreaker just could not understand it, could not understand why Jazz would give up like this. Why he would betray their bond like this. But Sideswipe thought perhaps he could.
He had spent a lot of time sneaking into the repair bay and he had seen how hopeless it was. No matter what was tried, Prowl did not improve; in fact he was getting markedly worse. His memory was deteriorating as the temporary files became corrupted through continual use beyond their capacity. It would likely only be a few more months before he lost the ability to acknowledge any of them at all.
Yes, it hurt to lose him. And it must be hurting Jazz worst of all. But given the choice Sideswipe suspected he would be doing exactly the same thing. Well, except that he would never even consider outliving his twin. He had his doubts as to whether Jazz would actually emerge from that room on his own pedes, no matter what he had said about wanting to hold true to what Prowl would want him to do.
Still, in the meantime they had no right to interfere. As much as he knew Sunny was desperate to hold on to hope, they had no right to make this any harder for Jazz than it already was.
Even as he thought that, and pushed that thought relentlessly through to his brother, Sunstreaker broke free from the other two. Sideswipe made an attempt to slow his momentum but was cast aside and the last thing he saw was an elbow heading for his helmet.
There was a tune. Rather, a single musical phrase played in an endless loop so it was not strictly speaking a tune, but it was music. It was a long way away, and several times he lost track of it but each time it would return and he would get distracted by it again.
He did not want to be distracted. He just wanted to hold on and smother himself in the sense of his bondmate's presence until it was over, but the music was persistent and irritating.
Frustrated, he gave in and pursued it aggressively. It had to stop. Now was not a good time for any disruption and if he found that Blaster was responsible for this little snippet running around in his processor he was going to...
He paused.
The music was not coming from within his own processor. Or at least, not exactly. More like from his spark. And now there was a voice, too, so soft that he had missed it up until now. The voice was not in tune, more chanting the lyrics than singing them, repeating them like a mantra.
"...what is done has been done for the best... for the best... for the best... what is done has been done for the best... for the best... for the best... what is done has been done for the best..."
"Though the mist in my eyes might suggest..." Jazz provided the next phrase and suddenly the music vanished and he felt himself surrounded by the sense of something he was sure he had lost.
Prowl. His Prowl. All the warmth and love and surety of the mech he had been bonded to for what felt like the whole of eternity. There was a relieved sigh.
"You found me, finally. It felt like I was waiting for vorns. That tune was driving me insane."
Jazz clung desperately, incoherent in his shock, and felt the other presence's dawning surprise.
"Why this grief? Jazz? What has happened?"
"You're here."
"Well of course I'm here. Where else would I be?"
"You're here. You're all here. You always were."
The presence focused.
"Jazz? You're making no sense."
He laughed hysterically through his keening, unable to articulate his relief at hearing such an admonition. The presence was concerned, though.
"Jazz? Answer me. What is going on?"
"You're in my spark!"
"Well of course I am." the tone was indignant now. "As you're in mine. That should hardly be a surprise."
The horror was seeping in now.
"I could have saved you. If I'd realised. You weren't there. That's why they couldn't re-activate you. You were here."
"You're babbling. Calm down. You're drawing a crowd."
"A crowd?" he asked blankly. "Where?"
Prowl made an exasperated noise.
"Well you're not going to be able to see them if you don't online your optics."
Where Jazz had come from, he was unsure, but given that he had been sitting on this roadside numbly repeating those remembered lyrics for who knew how long he was hardly surprised. He had stopped watching the ones who walked past long ago. They had nothing to do with him and he wanted nothing to do with them.
The point was, Jazz was now here and it felt so good to hold him again. But his lover was so confused and so intensely upset. Clearly something terrible had happened. An attack on the Ark, during his absence, perhaps? He still could not access any of his recent memories, so he had no idea what the current situation was.
In his arms, Jazz stirred then his visor flickered and lit up and Prowl smiled down at him.
"You had me worried you'd damaged the circuitry. Why did you turn them off?"
Jazz stared at him for a moment, then clamped a hand on either side of his head and kissed him desperately. It was nice, if a little rough, but Prowl disliked being so blatant about their relationship with an audience and only permitted it for a few moments before disengaging.
"I missed you so much." Jazz whimpered. "I thought I'd lost you. I thought you were gone."
"Silly glitch." Prowl chided him, pressing a hand to Jazz's chest above his spark chamber. "How could I go without you knowing?"
Jazz ignored the words, suddenly on his feet and tugging Prowl up.
"We've got to go back. We've got to stop Ratchet."
"Stop Ratchet doing what?"
"He's killing you."
"You're making no sense again." Prowl complained. "I'm right here."
"No. No, this isn't real."
Prowl pulled his arm free and folded them, frowning at his bondmate.
"You're glitching. I'm not going anywhere and neither are you. You are going to sit down and calm down and explain."
Jazz began to argue, but suddenly he could not focus as what seemed like every circuit in his body began to hurt all at once.
Sunstreaker had pulled out most of the cables and tubes by the time they caught up with him. Neither Prowl nor Jazz seemed to have noticed: both seemed to be offline. Prowl had not greyed yet, Ironhide noticed, so he was still with them for now but it was only a matter of time.
The room was quickly filling with mechs - some trying to help Sunstreaker, others trying to stop him. First Aid was screaming for his brothers' help, trying frantically to reattach some of the connections.
"I didn't think you believed in euthanasia." Sunstreaker snarled at him.
"I don't. But it's Jazz's choice."
"He's not thinking straight."
"That's your view." Perceptor told him frostily.
"Where's Ratchet?" Bumblebee demanded.
"In his quarters getting drunk." Wheeljack supplied the answer. "I've sent Blue to get him."
"You have to let me put this right." First Aid begged.
"And kill him?" Sunstreaker bellowed. "I won't let you!"
He pulled out a blaster and destroyed the three machines next to the berth then threw the blaster aside and turned to Ironhide.
"Put me in the brig if you have to. I don't care."
First Aid had sunk to his knees on the floor, horrified.
"What've you done?"
"Stopped you slaggers from killing him."
"He's dying anyway. But without those... it'll all just be pain!"
That stopped most of the movement in the room.
"What?" Sunstreaker asked blankly.
"We aren't doing anything to kill him." First Aid explained dazedly. "We just stopped trying to keep him alive. He isn't being poisoned or actively virused. You're not helping by doing this. All you've done is take away the pain relief and the energon regulators that stop his lines from clogging. He would've gone peacefully, but now..."
to be concluded...