Disclaimer: Transformers; do not own. His Dark Materials/Golden Compass; do not own.
Summary: Semi-crossover; oneshot series. Jazz; There were very few times in his life that Jazz regretted proclaiming himself as a great cultural expert (no matter how true it was). This was one of the times.
After
Jazz
In Jazz's opinion, Autobots had impeccable timing. It had been just a few weeks since Mission City, and already more surviving Autobots had started to trickle in. Prowl and his group, which consisted of Red Alert, Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, and Bluestreak, had already been on Earth for a few days.
They had told the incoming Autobots about the doubly-occurring creatures around them, but the bond that existed between human and dæmon was hard to describe. Optimus, Ratchet, and Ironhide were of little help; the humans and their dæmons were very new to them as well. Even Bumblebee, an earth veteran for five years, was at a loss.
So they had looked to Jazz to send a quick explanation. Jazz had told the incomers that they were heading for a planet full of spark-split twins.
That had received a shocked silence in reply, at least until Bluestreak came into the room.
Twins were exceedingly rare in Cybertron. Even in the golden age, less than one percent of the population consisted of spark-split Cybertronians, or so Jazz was told, since he was sparked long after the golden age was finished. Now with their population so severely decimated, Jazz knew only of two pairs of twins: Sideswipe and Sunstreaker were one.
No mech talked about the other pair.
Bluestreak was all smiles and introductions and "Hey how're you doing my name's Bluestreak it's really nice to meet you," and other characteristic things like that. Sunstreaker and Sideswipe were openly mocking and condescending, not bothering to be polite to the hosts of their new home. Red Alert was all business, and Prowl was polite, but stoic and serious, as per usual.
But underneath Bluestreak's easy-going attitude, underneath Sunstreaker and Sideswipe's pride, underneath Red Alert's suspicion, and underneath Prowl's severity, they were uneasy.
Bluestreak was awed by his host family, in particular one of Lennox's men, who had fought alongside the captain in Mission City. Jared Blake was a blind gunner, but, like most visually impaired people, his dæmon had excellent vision. By now, Jazz was quite used to the seeing the man walk calmly from corridor to corridor in the Autobot base, his peregrine falcon on his shoulder sometimes flying, sometimes on his shoulder, seeing for the both of them. It was a concept that seemed to have Bluestreak somewhat floored.
Red Alert's paranoia seemed to be worse than normal. In particular, he was always interested in where the dæmons were, and became distressed quite easily when a dæmon was out of sight. Jazz knew that, for this reason, Red Alert seemed to have developed an unhealthy suspicion of a still-healing Fig.
Prowl was…well, he was being Prowl. Truth be told, the humans in general, and Sam and Mikaela in particular, were more wary of Prowl than they were of the twins, and it wasn't Prowl who had tried to prank them on their first introduction. Jazz still didn't know why.
And for all their mocking and condescension, Jazz knew that Sideswipe and Sunstreaker were a bit afraid of the humans. Not afraid of their strength, which, in Jazz's opinion, the twins grossly underestimate, nor afraid of their delicacy. Jazz can't really put a name to the twins' fear. He just knows that it is similar to his own.
They had told Prowl and the others that the humans and their dæmons were like Cybertronian twins, but now, Jazz knew that that was a lie. Something cold seemed to seep into his spark as he remembered Cybertron's half-children.
The newcomers looked at Optimus, Ratchet, Ironhide, and Bumblebee for clues as to how to behave. But, mostly, they looked at Jazz. They would come into Jazz's office and bombard him with a lot of questions, often forgetting half the answers and coming in again not an hour later to ask the same things. Jazz was pretty sure that Bluestreak was sincere in his intentions, no matter how clumsy his execution. He also knew that Sidewsipe and Sunstreaker don't really care about understanding the humans, but use this situation to pester him. Red Alert asked only to make sure that the humans can't use their dæmons to spy on 'Autobot military secrets,' and Prowl…well, Prowl was a rare visitor.
There were very few times in his life that Jazz regretted proclaiming himself as a great cultural expert (no matter how true it was). This was one of the times.
"So they're like sparks?" Bluestreak asked. This would be the fifth time he asked that day.
"Not exactly, but you get the idea, Blue. So don't touch 'em. Just don't. They hate that," Jazz answered.
"But Bumblebee does," Bluestreak protested. "Sam and Mikaela and their dæmons ride in him all the time, and Will comes in with Ironhide, and—"
"That's because Sam and Mikaela—" trust was the actual word, but Bluestreak was already looking pretty hurt. Jazz gave an internal sigh. And to think that Blue is ten vorns older than Bumblebee… "know Bumblebee," Jazz finally said.
"Oh, well, that makes a lot of sense. Come to think of it, this is kinda silly of me, being all sensitive or whatnot, since they've just met me…" He was out of Jazz's office even before his ridiculously long sentence ended.
Red Alert came in seconds after Bluestreak exited. He didn't even bother to say hello.
"So you are absolutely certain that the humans cannot separate more than a few yards from their symbiotes?"
"Dæmons, Red, and yes, I'm sure." Jazz thought of himself as a pretty easy-going mech, friendly and approachable and whatnot, but all this nonsense was really getting to him.
"So they can't send them into the vents or into our offices?"
"No, Red."
"Good. It's hard enough keeping out Decepticon symbiotes…" He was out the door before Jazz could correct him.
Jazz locked his door before the twins could come in. He sat on his desk and sighed, bemusedly thinking that coming back online almost wasn't worth all this.
"Tough day at the office?"
Jazz blinked. He took off his visors, wiped them, put them on, and blinked again.
"Epps!" The human was looking at him, sitting on a pile of unread data pads, his golden eagle dæmon perched haphazardly on his shoulder. "How did you get here?"
"Vents," Epps answered smilingly, jabbing his thumb upward. Kendra serenely preened herself. It was at least a fifteen feet jump.
"How did you…" The sergeant and his dæmon looked up at him innocently. "You know what? I really don't want to know. But may I ask, why?"
"Giving Red the run around. Don't want his paranoia to be unfounded, after all," Epps answered, snickering. Kendra gave a gleeful little cackle, spreading her wings and moving from shoulder to shoulder. "Something bugging you?"
"Same old, same old."
"Hey," Epps said, spreading his hands. Kendra jumped over to rest on his thigh. "You're the cultural expert."
"Stop remindin.'"
"Just sayin' that you brought this upon yourself, is all."
"Thank-you, Epps."
"No problem, my fine visored friend."
"I just didn't think it'd be so hard."
"Really?"
"No. I'm lying."
"Hey, we're smushing two races together. 'Course it's gonna be hard." Kendra launched herself from Epps' thigh, and circled around Jazz before coming to rest back on her human's arm. For some reason, Jazz had a distinct impression of a pat on the back.
Epps was silent for a while, stroking Kendra's feathers, before finally saying, "Your vents, by the way, are death traps."
"You mean Red Alert's alarms?" Jazz asked, surprised. It seemed to be an Autobot curse that the alarms in the vents never worked. So if they had actually worked…
Epps and his dæmon looked up at the lieutenant in silence, before they both burst out in laughter. "No," Epps managed to choke out. Kendra was still laughing. "Those puny things? They were easy to avoid. I'm talking about the paint buckets and chewing gum wads."
"The twins set their traps already?"
"Looks like it," Epps said, recovering himself as Kendra managed to stop laughing. He froze, and her feather's ruffled, as they heard Red Alert's distinctive complaining voice seeping through Jazz's door. He seemed to be cursing Epps' very name and existence. "Damn! Your man works fast!"
"Hence the name," Jazz said bemusedly. "You want to hide out for a while?"
"Nah, he'll find us if we're in one place too long. Would you mind giving me a lift?"
"Not at all." Epps jumped onto Jazz's outstretched hand, and he lifted him to the vent opening, Kendra flying and circling him.
As Epps crawled into the vent, to Jazz's surprise, Kendra landed for a moment on his upraised thumb. "Thanks, man," Epps said, his face peering out from the opening. Kendra gave a short bow, before flying off to join Epps.
Jazz didn't recover soon enough, and Epps and his dæmon were long gone before he could form a response.
"Well, we're getting there, slowly," Jazz said to what he thought was an empty room.
"Worth coming back online for after all?" asked a new voice.
Jazz jumped, and turned to face Prowl, standing on the other side of the desk.
"Prowl!" Jazz looked. Yes, this was Prowl. And yes, his door was still locked. "But how did you…?"
"Vents," Prowl said simply, jabbing his thumb to a small opening on the other side of the room. It was half the width of his torso.
There was silence.
"You know what? I don't wanna know," Jazz said, in a rare moment of defeat. He slumped down in his chair.
"Indeed."
"Well? I'm assumin' that you have questions?"
"Not a question, in so much as a statement."
"When did you get so crytpical?"
"This is what you get for leaving me with Sergeant Spazz, Terror Twins, and Blabbermouth for eons on end," Prowl said. Jazz detected the smallest hint of a smirk.
"Ouch. And you've gotten pretty bitter, too."
"Indeed." Prowl suddenly sobered. "Our hosts…you told us that they were like spark-split twins, Jazz."
"Well, yeah. That's the only way I knew how to put it."
"There was a closer description."
"Well, would you guys have come if I put it that way?"
There was a heavy silence. Jazz could still hear Red Alert cursing Epps' existence, and he could hear said human and his dæmon gleefully dodging traps by the twins and jumping over Red Alert's futilely installed alarms. "No," Prowl said, "no, probably not."
"Exactly. But you see, Prowl, it's expected for them. Normal, even. No, not even that. It's the thing that makes 'em human. There's nothing wrong."
"I suppose we're getting there, then," Prowl said finally. Jazz could have sworn that Prowl's door-wings wilted a little as Red Alert gained in volume. "There are still many things to learn," Prowl added, almost as an afterthought, as he left Jazz's office presumably to stop Red from tearing apart the newly built Autobot base.
Yes, we are getting there, Jazz thought, leaning back in his chair, unconsciously rubbing the part of his arm where Kendra had touched him. For some reason, even with the memories of Cybertron's half-children looming over him, he kind of felt warm and fuzzy inside. Two steps forward and one step back, but we're getting there.