"Look, Prowl I'm really sorry for what I said earlier," Jazz said as he walked into their room.
He stopped and frowned in confusion.
Prowl was laying on the berth, optics off and vents slow. So slow in fact, that Jazz was worried that he was offline.
He walked silently over to his lover and gently lay his hand on his forehead. He moved it down and his thumb stroked the SIC's cheek plate.
He waited a moment, expecting Prowl to wake up but he did not so he decided to let him get his necessary recharge. He left for the rec-room and sat down with a cube of energon. He sipped it slowly and was almost finished when Smokescreen and Bluestreak walked up to his table.
He looked up at them in confusion and frowned at their worried faces.
"Where's Prowl?" Smokescreen demanded, his tone hurried.
"He's recharging in our room, why?"
The two brothers glanced at one another and then back to the other mech.
"His bond is very faint, It's almost like he's miles away, but if he's only in his room then..." Blustreak trailed off uncertainly.
"Then there's something wrong," Smokescreen finished.
Jazz stood up and threw out the empty energon cube, "Do you want to go check on him?"
The brothers nodded as one and they left the rec-room to go see if Prowl was alright.
When they arrived in the quarters, the three mechs walked up to Prowl's recharging form.
"Prowl, Prowl wake up," Jazz said softly shaking him.
The SIC continued to recharge.
"Prowl? Wake up," Jazz said louder, still Prowl slept on.
"Prowl! Come on Prowl, wake up!" Bluestreak had started shouting at his older brother and Jazz began shaking him harder and harder, but still he remained in recharge.
"Stop!" Smokescreen forced them to do as he asked. He reached down and rested his servo on his younger brother's chevron, right over his spark. He could barely feel the pulse.
"Bluestreak, call Ratchet," but the youngest was frozen in shock, "Now!"
The command shook him from his stupor and he quickly commed the head Medic.
Smokescreen shook his head, "No, Prowl needs help now," he mumbled more to himself than to anyone.
Without hesitation Jazz gathered up Prowl's form in his arms and dashed out into the hall. He ran as fast as he could without shaking his precious cargo in his arms.
The whole time he ran only four words rang in a continuos stream through his mind.
This is my fault.
Over and over he recited it, for he knew it was true. He hurt Prowl, and Jazz knew how sensitive Prowl was about his emotions and feelings of abandonment. He should have known better than to let his anger at himself and his worry for his lover to control him.
Memories of Prowl's face, full of betrayal and hurt flashed in his mind. It continued to stare at him accusingly and he felt his breath caught in his vents.
Finally after seeming to sprint for miles he ran into the med-bay where Ratchet waited for them.
"Over here," he gestured to a birth and Jazz set Prowl down gently.
Ratchet and First Aid quickly went to work trying to stabilize and analyze Prowl's vitals. Jazz hovered around, trying to quickly move out of the way, but was mostly unsuccessful.
"Jazz, get out, wait in the lobby," Ratchet growled.
Jazz hesitated, but Ratchet threatened to sedate him, so he quickly left his lover in med-bay.
The Head of Special Ops went into the lobby and joined Smokescreen and Bluestreak.
"Well?" Bluestreak asked, but Jazz just shook his head and sat down covering his face with his servos.
"How did this happen?" Smokescreen demanded.
"I-I...We got into a small fight, I left him for a while and was actually heading back when you came and talked to me. You know the rest," Jazz whispered, his head still in his hands.
"What did you say to him?" Smokescreen demanded. He lifted Jazz up by his chest plate and brought him nose to nose.
"I-I said I hated him," Jazz whispered in a small voice, refusing to look at the other mech.
"You what?!" Smokescreen roared.
"I-We...I was angry at him for not taking care of himself. Of course I don't actually hate him but, he makes me so worried about him, it just slipped out."
Smokescreen let him drop, "This is all your fault!" He shouted and stormed out.
Jazz hid his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking with sobs. Bluestreak rested a servo on his shoulder.
"It-It's not your fault, it's all of our faults. Smokey is just...he's just worried about Prowl. We all are, besides, Prowl's gonna be fine!" Bluestreak was trying to sound cheerful and hopeful but only succeeded in sounding sad and despaired.
"Thanks Blue."
"Sure, I'll go talk to my older brother," he said and went after him leaving Jazz to his own.
Jazz sat in the quiet atmosphere of the med-bay and felt its crushing silence weighing on him. Despite what Bluestreak had said, it was his fault. He did not know how he knew he just, knew. It could not just be a coincidence that it all happened after their argument.
After Jazz had said he hated his lover, even if only sometimes.
He hid his face in his servos again and sighed heavily.
Jazz had no idea what he was going to do if Prowl wasn't ok. If Prowl never woke up?
That would simply destroy him. Jazz would never forgive himself if that happened. He would let Smokescreen and Bluestreak hate him, in fact he would welcome it.
If Prowl never woke up again, he deserved to be hated for the rest of his life.
Then again, the rest of his life seemed pretty dark without Prowl.
Futureless.
Empty.
Pain.
He shut off his optics and felt himself begin to drift off into recharge. Listlessly he fell into the welcoming darkness of recharge and felt his mind drifting from his body.
"Jazz?" A calm but conflicted voice spoke.
He jerked awake and turned on his optics to see Ratchet standing before him. His face was haggard with exhaustion and hopelessness.
Jazz sprang to his peds.
"Well? How is he? Is he alright? What was wrong?" These questions were fired at the doctor in rapid succession.
Ratchet held up a hand and Jazz fell silent.
"First, slow down. Second," he sighed and rubbed a hand across his faceplate, "I-I don't know what's wrong with Prowl. He's just offline. There's no rhyme or reason for it but that's what it is. All of his systems seem to be functioning but... he just won't online. I've tried stimulants, talking to him, but nothing seems to work. I don't know if he'll ever wake up again," the old Doctor's voice broke at these final words.
Jazz stood there for a moment, frozen. Finally he forced his voice box to function, "So you have no idea what's wrong with him?" His voice sounded far away and fuzzy, as if he were underwater.
Ratchet nodded and sighed heavily again.
"I'd like to keep him here for a few vorn to monitor for any changes or signs of turning online," Ratchet said quietly.
Jazz ran a servo over his faceplate and sighed. That was what he was afraid of.
How was he supposed to tell everybody else?
Just then, Optimus Prime walked in, his face grave and serious. He nodded to Jazz and went over to Ratchet.
"Status?"
Ratchet sighed for what seemed to be the millionth time.
"He's in recharge and I can't wake him up. I've tried stimulants and still he remains in recharge. I can't see anything wrong with his systems or battle computer so all we can do is wait for him to wake up," he explained again.
Prime frowned and sighed dejectedly. Finally, he turned to Jazz.
"Do you know what happened?"
Jazz frowned and hesitated, but finally answered.
"We got into an argument and I left to cool off, but then Smokescreen and Bluestreak came and told me something was wrong, so we went back to our room and, we found him like that," Jazz was close to tears by the end.
Prime placed his servo on the Third in Command's shoulder.
"It'll be alright Jazz, Prowl is strong and I'm sure he will be fine," he said softly.
Jazz nodded and smiled and waited until Prime had left before he let his face crumple in despair. He hid his face in his servos and Ratchet could only watch sadly as Jazz's shoulders bobbed with tears.
Ratchet sighed and turned back and went into the med bay. He stopped by Prowl's side and rubbed a servo roughly over his faceplate.
He knew Jazz and his destructive nature. Prowl's older brother was very much the same way and both of them would blame either themselves or each other, or both. Either way, if Prowl never woke up, the base would never be the same.
Ratchet placed a gentle hand on the comatose Prowl's shoulder.
"Prowl, wake up soon."