A/N: We all know Prowl and Jazz got together. Now we jump to G1 on Earth where the 'Feeling Series' starts (from Feeling Alive). This will look at Prowl and Jazz and what they were doing the whole time in the other arc's. as well as show things that were not included in previous additions to this series.
There is a little bit of repetition, but we've added our own take to them.
There are also a lot of page breaks XD
Rating: Definitely NC-17
Warnings: Slash, smex of the sticky kind, violence, mpreg, implied unborn death, angst, hurt/comfort.
Disclaimer: No, I do not own Transformers at all. Just playing with it.
Not to mention a huge thank you and a round of applause to the amazing Katea-Nui, my co-author who is fantastic to RP with and is a dear internet friend.
Feeling Complete – Chapter 2
The Praxian sighed and rolled over again, his arm winding its way around his bonded. He couldn't recharge. Jazz, on the other servo, was out like a light. It had come very close this time. Thank Primus for Ratchet. That mech could work miracles... Even in the face of his own hurt.
It was a very good thing Sunstreaker had stabilized when he did.
That still didn't take the weight away from his processor. It had been his plan that had positioned the golden twin on the ridge. He knew there was a chance that someone might target him, but he had been so secure in the knowledge that the chances were too low. 0.3% to be exact. Impossible odds.
Still, the impossible only had to happen once, and this once had almost cost them three mechs. Had Sunstreaker offlined, he would have taken Sideswipe with him. And in consequence, Ratchet would have followed, the broken bond un-mendable.
It would have been all his fault. His plan.
He couldn't stop thinking about it. Ratchet was a dear friend and confidante while the twins - troublesome and wild as they could be at times – were valuable to the Autobots and were good, decent mechs, regardless of their personality flaws. Everyone had at least one.
He sighed. If only he could just let the warmth of Jazz's body take him away.
The sound of a faint whirr reached his audials, and he stiffened as his bondmate came out of recharge, groggy.
"Babe...can't recharge?" the saboteur asked.
Prowl shook his helm. He sent a quick pulse over the bond, and immediately, Jazz understood. They shifted so that Prowl was more firmly tucked in his lover's arms, soft magnetic pulses emanating from black hands over the elegant doorwings in comfort. Jazz softly began to croon to Prowl, who sighed and clung tighter to him.
"They're not mad atcha, Prowler," Jazz sighed, tucking the tactician's helm under his chin and holding him tight.
"No," Prowl agreed, but that was it. It did not matter that they did not blame him. He blamed himself enough.
They lay like that for a while, the darkness of their quarters pressing in and wrapping around them like a foreboding blanket. It was all too easy to imagine what didn't happen in the deafening silence found here in the dark of Earth's night. It was why Mirage took nightly walks, or why the Twins wrapped themselves so thoroughly around Ratchet, or why Red Alert concentrated on his cameras.
And yes, the saboteur fully admitted to spying in his spare time.
He sighed again, realizing his own thoughts were not helping his mate any more than his words were. Well fine.
"We'll just have 'ta work on makin' ya forget."
And with that he pulled the startled mech up and into a kiss that quickly led to what it always did.
Losing themselves to the other.
"So, the rumours are true?" Prowl asked expectantly. He, Jazz, Wheeljack, Red Alert, Ironhide, and Optimus all sat around the table, leaning forward in expectation as Ratchet looked so very anxious, and yet, ecstatic.
"Yes. I'm sparked. With triplets," the medic replied, his voice turning practically giddy at the end of his sentence.
Jazz whistled lowly. "Damn, the twins must have zapped ya really hard to make ya get three."
Ratchet had the grace to look embarrassed. "Well, it was the most powerful three way merge we ever had. So...do I have your blessing?"
Optimus stood from his chair, silent, and walked over to the medic's seat, staring down at him. The optics above that facemask were inscrutable. Then he threw back his helm with a mighty laugh, before bending down and grabbing his CMO, hugging him tightly and spinning around once in a circle. "What a happy day it is for us all! New life brought into our ranks! The start of something wonderful!" he crowed. Ratchet looked slightly mortified.
The other officers chuckled at their leaders reaction. It was no secret to those present that Optimus had a soft spot for sparklings.
Prowl, however, felt the need to interject his logic. "We must increase security of course. And sparkling proof the Ark."
"More work..." grumbled Red Alert, banging his helm on the table. The rest of his sentence was muffled by the piece of furniture. "Trust my brothers to be the ones to give me more work." Despite the words, there was a note of happiness buried in his tone.
"Awww, Lil' Red's gonna be an Uncle," Wheeljack cooed, earning a glare from the security director.
"So are you. You're Ratchet's best friend so that makes you family."
"Yes, but I was the first to know aside from First Aid and Ratchet. So therefore, I am fully prepared."
"Your lab is off limits," Ratchet said quickly, snickering at the way his friend seemed to droop.
"Very well," the engineer said with a pout.
Prowl waited for the good natured congratulations to pass before continuing. "Well then, we shall have to begin right away if we want it done in time. Red Alert, I will assist you, along with Wheeljack and Skyfire. Now regarding Decepticon activity..."
The meeting went on and Prowl was aware of his mates concentration straying even though his visor was trained on him, although he couldn't address it right then and there. Ratchet was looking at Jazz amused, and Wheeljack looked like he wanted to snicker.
Therefore, it was only a partial relief when the meeting was over and they all exited the room, the twins instantly appearing to offer their mate an energon goodie and to whisk him away to their quarters. Red Alert shook his helm at his incorrigible older brothers and left for the security room. Prowl didn't need to turn his helm to know that Jazz was at his side. He could feel him. Slowly, they walked, their EM fields extending to mix with each others, the tactician allowing his doorwings to flutter and the visored mech smiling.
They reached their quarters, still quiet, and entered.
No sooner had Prowl locked the door when he felt warm arms wrap around him and pulses of warmth and love washing through him from his bondmates end. They were so in tune with each other, so connected, that Jazz didn't even need to fully voice his request.
"Can we?" he asked, retracting his visor and letting his sapphire optics shine hopefully.
"I..."
"What does ya computer say?" Jazz rephrased, putting it differently.
Inclining his helm, Prowl ran the scenario. After a few moments, he nodded his helm. "Safe enough."
"Ya sure ya want one? Cos Ah know Ah really want a sparklin' with ya, love. Ratchet's news only made me burn for it more," murmured the saboteur, nuzzling his sparkmate's neck.
"I... I've never given it much thought, you know I haven't but... I think I do," Prowl answered quietly, turning in Jazz's arms to look into his beloved's normally hidden optics.
The smile that lit Jazz's faceplates would have been enough to make Prowl give him anything in the world at that moment, regardless if he wanted it or not. He smiled softly in return and leaned in to kiss those grinning lips gently.
The kiss quickly turned passionate, one of Jazz's servos trailing up to cup the back of the tactician's helm and push him deeper into the kiss, Prowl offering no resistance to the searching glossa that eagerly entered his mouth to twine with his own. The other servo winded around to grope at a doorwing hinge, eliciting a surprised squeak from the Datsun.
Prowl pulled away with a breathless, "Now?"
"As good a time as any other," Jazz replied, reeling him in for another kiss, that was reciprocated with equal passion as the saboteur backed him towards their berth.
They tumbled gracelessly back on it, Jazz switching them around at just the right moment so Prowl wouldn't get his doorwings crushed. Without meaning to, the Praxian let out a faint whimper, and felt embarrassed immediately after. Crooning softly a few notes of a melody, the horned mech murmured, "Don't be afraid of the future love. We'll handle this well. Besides, there's no guarantee we'll definitely spark tonight."
Prowl nodded, leaning back down for another kiss, intending to sear this in his memory. His bondmate's hands guided him so that he was straddling the black pelvis with his thighs spread appetisingly to either side. Those same hands roamed his back plating, massaging into tense cables and toying with the few sensors under certain parts of plating. They travelled up, up, and to his doorwings, those wonderful magnetic pulses flowing over the sensors so softly, so sensually.
Breaking off from their kiss, Prowl breathed, "I love you so much."
Jazz smiled. "Ah love ya too sweetspark."
Pressing his helm into the crook of the neck, being careful to avoid scratching his lover with his chevron points, the Praxian found that cable that Jazz loved to be sucked on so much and lavished his attention on it, purring softly when Jazz's intakes hissed in the slowly building pressure.
"Ya tacticians fight dirty," teased the saboteur.
"You were the one to teach me," reminded the tactician with an indulgent smile, gently nipping over that sensitive cable.
"Ah was, wasn't Ah?" He could hear the grin in Jazz's voice as a set of digits wormed their way into a doorwing hinge to stroke sensitive bundles of wires, causing the Praxian to groan and grind into him.
Prowl's own servo sought out a sensory horn, tweaking it the same time he sucked and nipped at his lover's neck. The gasping hitch of Jazz's intakes made him purr and he relocated his mouth to kiss at parted lipplates teasingly.
"Mmm, think Ah'm a bad influence fer ya, Prowler."
Prowl chuckled. "You are only just now figuring that out?"
The visored mech fought to reply but a moan came out instead as his lover went back down to his neck for another tantalising lick over that line that Prowl went for each and every time. He gripped the sensor panels, making Prowl falter with his own moan.
'Gotcha,' Jazz thought deviously, attacking the flared door panels without mercy, mag pulses turned to their highest and fingers everywhere in their quest to bring the Praxian to the heights of pleasure. He was gratified to see his bondmate's optics white out for a few seconds, mouth open in a soundless moan in his bliss. Without knowing it, Prowl rocked his hips forward, their interface panels rubbing in a delicious friction over each other.
"J-jazz," panted Prowl, overwhelmed by the torrent of pleasure data feeding from his doorwings. He would overload too quickly if they were given any more stimulation.
Thankfully, his lover understood and slid his hands from doorwings to shoulders, lowering the pulses from his hands, only enough to relax muscle cables. When Prowl pressed into the touch, Jazz kept moving his hands slowly down, over the chestplates, feeling the spark throb (oh how he couldn't wait to be joined!), over the headlights teasingly and to the smooth plating of the abdomen. Every touch was a promise, every moan in return from the doorwinger an affirmation.
"Jazz!" And oh wasn't that gasp of his name exquisite.
The saboteur grinned up at his lover. "Reminds meh of that first time so long ago, Prowler. Ya said my name just the right way then too."
"Mmm," Prowl purred, white servos seeking sensitive seams in his lovers chest plating. "I think you said something about that then as well."
"What can Ah say? Ya burn mah circuits like no other."
"Are you implying that you've been with others since we've been together?" The teasing in the tactician's voice was challenging. Something Jazz couldn't very well ignore.
He pulled the ex-enforcer to him and their mouths met heatedly, glossae stroking out into a wild dance of passion. One black servo grasped at an equally black aft, tugging the warm plating closer and eliciting an aroused growl from his normally reserved lover.
Primus. Prowl wanted this as much as he did.
:~Wanna open up for me babe?~: the saboteur asked through their bond, not wanting their liplock to end just yet. He revelled in the taste in his lover.
Prowl's reply was wordless, his panel clicking open and allowing his interface components to be caressed with cool air, and then shortly after that, Jazz's fingers feeling gently around that slicked valve, that stiff, hot length of metal of a spike. The Praxian mewled, breaking off the kiss and gasping for air. "Want you," he whispered hotly, grinding down into those questing digits, hands grasping desperately for his bondmate. The saboteur never ceased to make him feel sexy and beautiful, never ceased to get him gasping for words as they shared pleasure.
"Ah know. Ah want ya so bad too. Remember the first time Ah took ya valve? Nipped the seal off with my denta and stroked your spike while Ah lined up and pushed through. So good and tight, babe," purred Jazz. When a particularly strong burst of lust reached him over their bond, he chuckled, struggling to keep his own resolve. Seeing Prowl in the throes of pleasure was one of the sexiest things he had ever seen.
Prowl mouthed over his shoulder, suppressing a moan as two fingers inched into his drenched entrance, teasing and tweaking the nodes they both knew so well. "Mmm."
"Still tight..." Jazz's delighted voice was breathless in his audio, the questing digits pressing deeper, drawing a whine of pleasure from the Datsun.
"It's my model," Prowl smirked, flaring his doorwings and arching his back.
Jazz's optics cycled wide and his engine revved aggressively. The little minx new exactly what kind of image he was presenting. "The funny thing Ah find wit' that particular statement, is that until Ah said anything to ya and Ratchet, ya had no idea what interfacin' was."
"And - ah - loved my naivety as much - mmm - as you loved te-EAACHING me! Oh JAZZ!" At this point, Prowl was grinding down on his lover's digits, a third one having wiggled it's way in and spread.
The sapphire optics that usually were hidden by his visor brightened as he replied, "Oh yes did Ah enjoy teachin' ya. So innocent ya were. And once Ah taught ya, ya were as enthusiastic as a petero bunny in heat."
Prowl's snicker was cut off when black fingers rubbed frantically over a node in the valve, making him arch back in an almost impossible bend and moan loudly. Jazz smirked. He loved seeing Prowl like this. Unrestrained and so passionate. The hot throbs of love and lust warmed his whole frame, not just his spark, and it made him think about what this effort was all for. The thought of a little sparkling running around their pedes...
"I-inside me. I want to feel you," breathed Prowl, cutting off the other mechs thoughts as he rolled his hips to feel more sensation, the three fingers stretching him out quite nicely.
"With pleasure," purred the saboteur, letting his hot, straining spike burst from his panel, hissing as the air felt like ice on his heated length. A bead of pre-fluid dripped from the tip and was caught by the doorwinger, who brought it to his mouth and licked it off.
"A move you taught me if I remember rightly," teased Prowl, panting as those fingers curled within him at the visual stimulus.
"Ya remember right." Jazz bit his lip as Prowl stuck his finger into his mouth once more and then pulled it out slowly with an audible pop. He released a shaky outvent. "Frag."
He removed his digits from within his lover, earning him a whine halfway between displeased and anticipating.
Jazz rolled gently, careful to make sure his bonded's doorwings were flat against the berth with no chance of damage, before he curled his servo under one white, perfect thigh.
Prowl's optics darkened as he allowed his lover to draw his leg up until his knee was hooked around the black pelvic frame above him. He pressed up eagerly, their spikes sliding against the others and they both gasped. Jazz growled and dove in, his denta clamping around his favourite cable in Prowl's neck and his spike pressing against the sensor rich rim of Prowl's valve.
White servos scrabbled at his armour, searching for purchase, a way to anchor themselves as the thick spike pressed in tortuously slow and struck every node each ridge came across.
"Nnn...Nnn...oooh," whined Prowl, ex-venting heavily as sensation burst across valve and his frame. His lover nuzzled into his neck in assurance, swivelling his hips around to make them both hiss.
"Move?" asked Jazz after a few moments.
"Move," confirmed Prowl, arching up as his bondmate begun an easy pace. It wasn't rushed. They were taking their sweet time, enjoying each thrust and the pleasure that went along with it. They panted, they moaned, and every now and then they would smile endearingly at each other. They shared sweet, tender kisses that evolved into fiery, passionate ones that threatened to break the control over their pace. Black and white servos never stopped caressing, teasing, touching each other intimately as the slick sounds of spike filling valve filled the room in symphony with their moans.
Jazz was the first to unlock his chestplates, the brilliance of his sapphire and white spark bathing them both and giving mysterious casts to their black and white plating, enhancing it.
"Sweetspark," he breathed, clutching the doorwinger closer to him and slowing his thrusts a bit. "Gonna do this...gonna do it now, Ah can't last."
Prowl gasped as his own chestplates parted and his spark cover retracted, Jazz immediately leaning forward to worship the spark and its surroundings with his glossa. Crackles of energy made his lips tingle, but Jazz didn't care. He worshipped the light blue and gold spark, marvelling in its beauty.
Prowl was beyond coherency, his entire chassis arching in a feline-like manner, pleas for Jazz pouring from his vocaliser along with wordless sounds of lust, desire and pleasure.
Jazz hummed in appreciation, the beauty of his bondmate striking as deep as it did any other time.
"Please! Jazz! Gonna over - PLEASE!"
Relenting to his lover's desperate plea, the saboteur re-positioned, staring down for one timeless moment into his bondmates optics before pressing down.
Their sparks immediately entwined, welcoming their other half with enthusiasm for the renewed bond as energy began to zip back and forth so quickly both of their processors were spinning.
:~Oh my love,~: Jazz whispered as their conscious's integrated, and he could feel Prowl's hope that they would spark, his anxiousness about whether he would be a good parent, and his boundless love for Jazz and any creation they would have.
:~You are the only one dearspark, that I would ever feel this with, and I love you so much,~: the Praxian replied, his hands gripping hard to his bondmates back as their combined emotions, their sparks pleasure, and their sensor net exploded with sensation. The saboteur pistoned his hips desperately into the tactician, crying out as both valve and spark seemed to envelop him, triggering the start of his overload.
Their sparks surged, energy tingling across their frames, heat bubbling up from their chests as their sparks overloaded with the force of a supernova. Their room was filled with a cacophony of heated cries as hot transfluid filled sopping and clenching valve, and it seemed like the pleasure would never end.
After the triplets birth
It was a peaceful day thus far for Prowl. He was in his office, his stack of datapads almost complete, and there had not been one fight, one prank, or one shift stuff up all day. For him, the only thing that would make it perfect was to go to his quarters and sink into his bondmates waiting arms. But now, he had a little mini-mission.
Unlike what some of the crew thought, he was not as emotionally imperceptive as he made himself out to be. He had learned - with Jazz's help - to pick up cues in other's behaviour that would tell him the information he needed.
Wheeljack was one such mech he had picked up this information from. That, and Bluestreak's sudden desire to be placed on patrols and on duties far away from Wheeljack's lab.
Prowl knew, of course, of the gunner's attraction to the inventor. Bluestreak was a friend, and he viewed the younger mech as his younger brother. It would be illogical if he didn't notice the way the grey mech acted around the CEO. He always went to see the Lancia after he got himself blown up, always gravitated towards Wheeljack's table in the rec-room. And because both Wheeljack and Bluestreak were fairly sociable, it wasn't easily picked up on. Prowl also observed that Wheeljack was not unaffected as well. He treated Bluestreak with more respect than some, saw him as a mech and not a youngling, and not only that, but he looked out for the gunner's well being, always allowing him to talk whenever he wanted for however long he wanted.
Recalling how Sideswipe, Smokescreen, Mirage, and Bumblebee had gotten him and Jazz together, he decided to do a little encouraging of his own.
In the most blunt way possible.
There was a tap on the door of his office before the chime was rung. Allowing himself a small smirk before allowing the door to open, the tactician became neutral once Wheeljack walked in.
"You called for me, Sir?"
"Hello Wheeljack," the tactician said cordially, resisting the urge to frown at the inventor's put off appearance. Apparently Bluestreak's inability to overcome his fear of rejection wasn't only affecting the gunner. "Please, have a seat."
The CEO did so, sitting stiff and on the edge of the uncomfortable chair across from his superior officer.
Prowl waited a bit, letting the tension build and didn't start until Wheeljack began shifting self consciously in his seat. It was a trick he had learned from Jazz many vorns ago. Don't just rush in for the information. Let the information come to you. You just needed to be patient.
And patience was something Prowl excelled at.
"Wheeljack." Prowl watched in hidden amusement as the CEO jumped slightly. "It has come to my attention that there is... tension... forming between you and Bluestreak." He watched as the helm fins flashed yellow in wariness. "And as such, it has also been affecting others around you." Truth. Feeling the need to console himself, Bluestreak had been talking the audios off of anybot he could and the direct result was tempers fraying. Wheeljack had become more reclusive when he wasn't trying to hunt the gunner down and he hadn't blown anything up in over a week. PERCEPTOR was even beginning to worry. "Therefore this problem must be addressed. I do not like discord in the ranks."
"Sir?" squeaked the inventor nervously.
Carrying on without any change in his tone, the tactician went on, "And as such, I would like to know where you feel on this issue."
Wheeljack looked so uncomfortable that Prowl took the slightest pity on him (but he was having fun seeing the scientist squirm) and said, "Wheeljack, I am asking just in case there is any indication that you do not feel the same way Bluestreak does. It would help ease his...suffering."
Wheeljack blinked, clearly not expecting that and opened his mouth for an intelligent reply. "... Huh?"
Prowl sighed. He could only hope to Primus that he hadn't been this oblivious himself. "Wheeljack, just because I am ignorant of many relationship necessities does not mean I do not watch and notice. For the past week and a half, Bluestreak has been avoiding you because he believes you do not return his feelings. He has been pining for your attention for vorns. Almost as soon as he joined, actually. While I can read Bluestreak fairly easily, you are rather... hard to read."
"Um... thanks. I think."
"Just answer the question."
"Well, I... uh... that is to say..."
Prowl resisted the urge to smack his face into the palm of his servo. "Do you return Bluestreak's sentiments or not, Jack?"
"Yeah..."
The SIC nodded. "Very well. You two need to talk this out and sort it out between yourselves. If I have to step in again, there is nothing stopping me from calling you both in here and locking you in until it's sorted."
Wheeljack was giving him a look that clearly suggested he was aping behind his mask.
"Uh...okay?"
"Very well. Dismissed," said Prowl, going back to his datapads.
It was also, in part, to hide his smirk at the inventors expression. Even with that mask, the gobsmacked emotion was all too present. As the sound of pedesteps faded, and the door closed behind the inventor, Prowl allowed himself to finally throw his helm back and laugh. And laugh. And laugh.
His door opened, his beloved bondmate walking through and giggling with him.
"Babe, nice work!" Jazz crowed, having seen it all through the bond. Short, but effective.
"Well," chuckled Prowl, "as long as it all works out for the best. Bluestreak deserves the same happiness that I found with you."
"He does." Jazz tilted his head to the side just a bit, indicating he was quirking an optic ridge under his visor. "Ah noticed ya didn't object to them either."
The tactician shrugged, smirking. "Wheeljack is not a bad match, in all honesty, and probably the best for Blue with the mechs he has to choose from. Bluestreak likes to pamper... and Wheeljack needs to be pampered. He hardly takes care of himself as it is."
"Logical." Jazz grinned, hiding his snicker as best he could.
"Perhaps."
Three Weeks Later
"Yep, there's one growing in there alright," Ratchet grinned, looking at the scanner over First Aid's shoulder and adjusting his recharging femme in his arms. The tiny thing didn't even stir. "It only took you like, what? Seven or eight tries?"
"We were beginning to lose hope," Prowl replied softly, staring wonder down at his chest plating. What a time to find out. Jazz was gone on a mission with Mirage and Bumblebee and here he was finding out that he was finally carrying. "Is there a way to tell what it is?"
Ratchet shook his helm, and leaned against the berth as his apprentice congratulated the Praxian SIC and then went about helping Swoop with cleaning the tools. "Too early. Maybe in another week, perhaps." A wide grin spread across his porcelain features. "Welcome to the woes of carrier-hood."
The Praxian allowed a small smirk. "I doubt I will have that much hardship in comparison to you, Ratchet. You have three. I will only be having one."
The medic chuckled, "Oh just wait. The waking up in the middle of the night to feed, the making sure that they don't get something stuck in their intake. You and Jazz are going to have your hands full."
"Ah, but Jazz has too much energy at times. This will be good for us," assured Prowl, sitting up and placing a hand over his chest seam. It was incredible to think that he and Jazz had succeeded to create another life. Unconsciously, his smile widened and his optics shuttered closed. He ignored Ratchet's knowing snicker in favour of letting a feeling of peace overcome him. He couldn't wait to tell Jazz!
Thanking the medics, he left for his quarters. His bondmate wasn't scheduled to be back until early morning if all went well. Knowing Jazz, there was a 97% chance it would.
When Prowl woke, he instantly knew something was wrong. It was 8am and Jazz wasn't by his side. Frowning in worry, he got up and wandered into their living room, stopping in the doorway at the sight that greeted him. There, on the couch, was Jazz. There were scorch marks on his frame at random intervals, a few scratches, but what stood out most of all was the dejected pose and the tears dripping from beneath his visor.
"Jazz?" he asked softly. He couldn't feel anything through their bond, the TIC was blocking him.
The saboteur looked up and it was his trigger. He sobbed, putting his helm in his hands with a strangled moan of grief.
The tactician felt his spark go cold. Jazz had cried a total of perhaps six times in all the time they had known each other. Something was desperately wrong. Moving to his lover's side and embracing him tightly, he murmured, "What happened my love?"
The TIC was quiet, his arms winding around Prowl and crushing him to himself. He shook, not saying anything and Prowl waited, offering and pushing his love and understanding towards his mate even if the bond was closed off at the moment.
Finally, after much patience, the words came haltingly. "It - it was 'posed ta be a simple mission." The hands tightened on his lover's plating, pulling him closer. "Get in, get out... But..." Feelings were starting to bleed through the bond now. Anger mixed with sorrow and pain. "Shockwave was there!" Jazz spat bitterly, his grip tightening again when Prowl jolted in surprise. "Didn't even see the fragger until... until..." A sob heaved the chassis, the tears coming faster. "He fired... it... it hit 'Raj. He went down, invisibility was compromised. We had... had to leave him... Didn't even get a chance to grab 'is bodeh."
"Oh Jazz..." Prowl breathed, his spark wilting for his lover and bondmate. The sparklet growing alongside it seemed to sense the change and it pulsed unhappily at its carrier.
"Why? Damnit, it looked a mess in Hound and R-raj's quarters, like they had a fight. Hound was wrecked when Ah left. Ah couldn't do anythin' for 'im. He asked if we were fakin' it, and the look on his face when Ah said 'no,' was just terrible," the sobbing mech continued.
"Dear Primus..." whispered the doorwinged mech, peppering kisses all over the black helm and pulsing calm to him, knowing that the calm would help his agitated sparklet as well.
Hiccupping, Jazz said, "Ah don't know what to do Prowler. Ah can't go back in with Shockwave there and without 'Raj, but...Ah need to get his body. It ain't right for me to leave 'im there."
Both knew that despite Jazz's deepest desires that he could not and would not go back so soon. The wound of losing one of his most trusted operatives and one of his closest friends was too raw for it. Mirage, as much as he found war distasteful at times and how he longed to be back on Cybertron, was valuable, a true hero of war for what he did. He spied on the Decepticons solo most of the time, at great risk, and went mostly unacknowledged by most Autobots. Jazz keened, weakly pounding a fist against his thigh as Prowl made a soft 'shushing' sound, continuing to kiss him and cradle him close.
After a while they both calmed, even Prowl having shed tears for Mirage.
They sat in a solemn silence, the simple contact enough, the knowledge they were together and alive making them thoughtful.
Wincing, Prowl knew that, no matter how tragic this situation was, he had to let Jazz know about the sparkling. Arranging them so they could look into each other's optics easier, the Praxian murmured, "I know this is hard but...I have some news that might cheer you up."
"Oh really?" Jazz asked sarcastically.
Soothing the barb with a wash of love, Prowl murmured, "Really. If..if this event hadn't happened I'm sure you would have been very happy with this news." At his bondmate's confused glance, he continued quietly, "Our last bonding session worked. I'm sparked. We're having a sparkling."
Jazz suddenly, irrationaly, burst out laughing. When Prowl looked alarmed, worried for his mate's sanity, he choked out, "Ya're kiddin', aren't ya? Just to make me feel better about l-losin' Raj."
Prowl shook his helm and he pushed the sensation of feeling the sparklet attached to his own spark through the bond. It cut Jazz's manic laughter off immediately.
"Primus..." Jazz's intake caught in his throat, and he leaned in, grasping Prowl's arms and pressing an audio against his chest. He couldn't hear anything, but his highly tuned sensors could feel the revolution of a tinier spark against his mate's larger one. "He's really in there."
"Who said it was going to be a he?"
Jazz grinned, this one more sparkfelt than any other during his day. Then it wilted a little.
"S'not fair."
Prowl, wilting himself with his bonded's downturn in mood, asked, "What isn't, love?"
"This happens now... When Hound's hurtin' so much. S'not fair that Ah can be so blessed while a good friend is hurtin' with his own losses."
The Praxian made a sound of sorrow, soberly reminded of the circumstances. He didn't like it any more than his bondmate did. "It may be news that gives the Ark opportuinty to bond over. You know. The new life coming forth in dark times." Jazz nodded, pressing a kiss to his chestplates in an effort to distract himself from the anguish he felt for himself and for Hound.
"We've gotta support Hound, Prowler. Before we celebrate...we gotta do what we can before we announce ya're sparked," Jazz said, his tone asked for it to be promised.
"I promise. We won't announce our sparkling until Hound is back on the right track once more," Prowl promised.
Content with the words, but wanting more time to reflect on the loss, the saboteur settled on top of his bondmate, feeding off the warmth of feelings sent his way. Poor Hound. Poor Mirage. They had so much in front of them. And yet, they had not bonded. They had not felt the wonder of a bond like he and Prowl had. Too much taken away from them. And yet, he had the fortune to have his mate and now a sparkling still here.
Either Primus had something bigger planned, or he had taken a step out this time around.
Jazz sat quietly, staring at the report he was supposed to be finishing. He just couldn't concentrate. Not with Hound so down and hurting outside.
But there was nothing that could be done for him. Nothing made him... happy. Even Cliffjumper had been subdued.
Which was saying something.
The saboteur sighed and took a quick look at his chronometer. It was late, past midnight human time. And a quick check with Red Alert confirmed that Hound was still outside on the mountain. The tracker had spent nearly every night out there since... Since Mirage's death. Jazz set the pad down, a twinge in his spark. He frowned. There had to be something he could do. Mirage wouldn't want Hound in this state of limbo. It would break the spy's spark.
Determination suddenly filled him and he stood, trying to piece some kind of speech in his mind together when a red emergency comm light began flashing. Seeing who it was from and wasting no time he answered it.
:- Hound to Jazz. We have a situation! Tell Ratchet to have the medbay ready!-: Something like hope immediately flared in Jazz's spark and his comm to medbay was made quicker than he had answered the emergency comm.
:-Ratch, Hound's just put a call through. Get outside with me!-: he yelled over the comm. line to the medic. There was a ping of acknowledgement as he ran out of Prowl's office - for what was the point of using his own? - and folded down into alt mode and sped towards the entrance of the Ark. Soon, the sound of another motor was behind him, and he instinctively knew it was Ratchet. He wished all his hopes were true. He so wanted the reason for the medical call to be not for tragedy, but for joy.
Finally they burst out of the Ark and transformed, and Jazz felt his spark practically burst with joy at the sight. Mirage was there, held safely in the tracker's arms and they were staring adoringly at each other.
He was about to call out to them when suddenly the blue spy fainted.
:-Ratchet! I need you here NOW!-: cried Hound over the comms.
"I'm here," Ratchet called, speeding forward to look at the spy's condition. He frowned and said, "We need to get him to the medbay. Hound, lift him. He'll be all right."
Hound, even though he looked worried about the returned noble, looked as if all of his misery had lifted. He smiled through his anxiousness, and he could scarcely take his optics off Mirage. Jazz smiled warmly. Such a sight was beautiful to watch. Stepping forward, he looked down at Mirage, feeling his own relief bubble up. "He's back," he whispered, "He's here to stay. He's a fighter Hound."
"Yes...yes he is," replied the green mech, tracing a finger down his lover's serene face as they moved into the Ark.
Jazz turned, seeing his bondmate waiting for them. He grinned, so wide, so happy, and launched himself at his love, both falling to the ground with an 'oof.'
"He's back Prowler," the saboteur cried joyfully, lost in his euphoria.
Prowl smiled as he hugged his mate, feeling and luxuriating in the relief and joy he could feel echoing across their bond. "He is, Jazz. You raise some fine agents."
Jazz's answering smile melted his spark and the sparkling pulsed his own joy, finally feeling what it had been craving for the first time in days.
Things were suddenly starting to look up.
A few days later
Prowl groaned, rotating his hips as he keened in overload, Jazz's spike seated deep within him.
Ratchet had warned him about this. Prowl had thought he had been prepared.
But the craving for sexual intimacy with his partner had thrown them both for a loop.
"H-hope yer not like this all day, Prowler. S'much as ah love it when yer horny, Ah'd hate ta have ta explain to Prime why his SIC suddenly jumped meh before a very important meetin'."
"Scrap the meeting," purred Prowl, hopping off of his mate, not caring of the fluids liberally dripping out of him as he stood next to Jazz. "I want you to bend over so I can give you a decent spiking. Now."
The saboteur was taken aback, but found a thrill went through him. He so loved it when Prowl felt like really being in charge. "Okay. But ya gotta explain it." He hopped off Prowl's desk, retracting his valve panel and presented himself to his mate, who purred even deeper at the sight. He dropped to his knees, tasting his lover's lubricant that had begun to slick his valve. Both mechs moaned at the stimulation, Jazz enjoying that slick appendage flicking against his nodes while Prowl savoured the tangy-sweet taste of his lover.
"Oh damn Prowler...got me so hot already," gasped Jazz as that glossa delved deeper inside his folds.
"I'll make it quick so we can get to the rest of your meeting," murmured the Praxian around the valve, the vibration of his voice causing his lover to shiver exquisitely.
He stood, spike extending, and drove into Jazz's drenched valve. He gave naught but a few seconds to make sure Jazz was fine, before starting a hard and furious pace, throwing his helm back, enjoying the lush feel of his mate around him.
"Oh frag...Prowl!"
"Yes," hissed the doorwinger, the insatiable need building.
Jazz groaned loud, the slick sounds of his mate's thick spike dragging in and out of his valve filling the room, the smell of their previous coupling and this one permeating the air, thick in his olfactory sensors. This would be a quick one, but still oh so enjoyable. His overload built, the pleasure stretching inside of him, ready to snap...
Prowl came with a howl, scalding transfluid flooding his bonded's clamping passage and the heat of it sent Jazz over, valve like a vice as it rippled in overload among Jazz's impassioned cry and the clang of metal against metal as he bucked against the desk. Both were rigid for several moments before Prowl slumped, barely catching himself before he could crush his lover.
Ragged ventilations filled the room now, mingling with the ping of cooling armor and satisfied half hums from Jazz.
"Y'know Prowler..." The saboteur grinned over his shoulder. "Ah think ah like ya like this."
"Mmm..." the Praxian hummed, nuzzling into the black shoulder before slowly pulling out of his mate.
They cleaned up as quickly as possible, exchanging a few kisses before both left, their mood turning sombre. The meeting they had to go to was to discuss why Shockwave wanted the triplets, as per Mirage's intelligence gathered from the Decepticon base. It was an important meeting. One that, had Prowl not been carrying, they both would have been there 15 minutes early.
As it was, sated and focussed, Prowl and Jazz entered the meeting 14 minutes late, both acting as nonchalant as possible as Mirage and Bumblebee exchanged astonished looks. Usually they both were so punctual.
"Now that we are all assembled," the tactician said in his best emotionless tone, "we may begin talking about the ramifications of this information for Ratchet, the twins, and their sparklings."
The black and whites sat, expectant, for Mirage to quickly re-cap the information.
If their mood had been serious before the meeting, Prowl and Jazz were now grim and determined with the knowledge presented to them. Things that had made sense, been revealed. And one thing was for sure. Shockwave was one dangerous (and sick) mech.
Jazz waited until they reached Prowl's office before he spat out, "Ah don't like this. What if he finds out ya're sparked too? He could take ya and Ratchet if he got through."
"Ah, but we have Red Alert," Prowl countered, tactical computer beginning to compute what would be the best course of action for them to take. Yes, it was horrifying that the purple 'guardian' of Cybertron was looking into spark mechanics and what happened when certain types of bonds were manipulated, but it was not the time to panic. It was time to have a cool head, focus on preventing such events to be put into place. "I must have a meeting with him. We must increase the security around the medbay and Ratchet's quarters. Perhaps Prime could also go over with Wheeljack some new things that would help with this task as well."
The saboteur sighed. Leave it to Prowl to completely ignore the threat to himself. Walking up to his mate, he murmured, "And here, too. If he finds out...Ah'm not responsible for my actions."
The Praxian smirked. "Always loved playing the protector to me."
"Always will love," replied Jazz, still serious but less grim as he leaned forward and placed his hands over Prowl's chestplates.
"He will be safe Jazz," Prowl said easily, his belief in their safety absolute as long as the proper precautions were taken.
"The impossible only need ta happen once, Prowler," Jazz countered. "Ya of all bots should know that one."
Prowl sighed, his own servos coming to rest over his bonded's, white covering black. "Yet, if I let myself think of those impossibilities, then I find myself unable to relax enough to meet Ratchet's requirements..."
Jazz pressed closer to his bondmate, tucking his helm into the doorwinger's neck. "Ah don't know. Somethin' don't feel right." He sighed, mimicking his mate, and pulled back. "Ya better go see Red Alert. We gotta do this stuff now."
Prowl nodded, pulsing over the bond once, before going out to see the Security Director.
After collapsing into the berth to go through two rounds of interfacing due to the energy requirements of their sparkling, Prowl and Jazz had fallen into a restless recharge. Jazz's words had been prophetic. Something didn't feel right about the night. It was like walking down a dark alleyway. You knew there could potentially be nothing sinister there. But...there always was the chance there was and it made you wary. It had both commanders on alert, even in the depths of rest.
When screams pierced the too still silence, both of them instinctually flung themselves out of their berth, half groggy but knowing that something fundamentally wrong was going on.
"Frag..." Jazz breathed, looking Red Alert over. "He's been hacked."
Prowl's lips thinned. Hacking was a great violation to one's person and Primus only knew what it would do to the already paranoid SD's flimsy trust of those around him. "Do I even need to ask?"
"No. Ah'd be tellin' ya what ya already know. Thing is, Soundwave has limits... And this was crossin' one o' them."
"So logic dictates he was ordered to do so. Or Frenzy was told personally."
Jazz looked at his mate, visor flashing nearly white in his anger. "Tha's what ah'm thinkin'"
The SIC sighed, and nodded to the worried Inferno who had Red Alert cradled in his lap. "Get him to First Aid and have him looked over. We want to make sure they didn't plant a virus while they were here."
The firetruck nodded and then stood, Red Alert cradled gently in his arms. As soon as he was gone, Jazz was tackling the security monitors. "Now, let's see what Red's systems picked up before his circuits got fried."
Prowl wordlessly slipped into the chair next to his mate, pushing away his tiredness. As much as he needed to recharge for his and the sparklet's sake, making sure the whole base was safe was much more important. He noticed Jazz had pulled up the screens that had covered the hallway where Ratchet's quarters were, so he looked to the outside security logs. The way the Decepticons had come in, taken Ratchet and the sparklings and just left...the thought made his tanks churn.
They both received a ping from Optimus, who was in the medbay watching over the twins.
"How'd this happen?" Prime asked quietly.
The black and whites looked at each other, silently urging each other to tell what they found.
"Two 'Cons. One unknown, and one Ah'd hoped to never meet again," Jazz replied.
"Elaborate, please." Both officers in the security room heard the tension in their leader's voice and sighed. He would not be liking what they found.
"One Jazz has recognized as a formal neutral bounty hunter gone 'Con," Prowl said, his voice not even wavering, but still thinned with frustration. "Designation; Shadetamer."
"Shadetamer?"
"Yeah." Jazz this time, his voice filled with something dark. "Mech's insane. Well, as close to insane as you can get and still be able to function on yer own. Craves our life energon, and 'as no issue tearin' a mech limb from limb. Met 'im once on a job. Watched tear into one of 'is own teammates jus' fer the fun of it. But past the insanity... Frag it Prime, they couldn't 'ave sent a better mech if they wanted this job pulled while we were on our guard!"
"We have our suspicions that it was this mech that... well, left Sideswipe and Susntreaker in such a state," Prowl continued.
There was quiet for a moment, a guilty kind of silence that permeated the air and seeped into their circuits. Then, so quiet they had to strain their audios even over the comm. link to hear... "And the other?"
Prowl glanced at Jazz, the tactician certainly not knowing the mech. Jazz shook his helm, lips pressed thin. "We have a name. But Ah don't know 'im and there isn't much to go on other than he's a frontline warrior that's been wit' Shockwave on Cybertron. They both were actually. Teammates. P'rbly the only mech Shadetamer 'asn't torn into. Designation; Backtrack. He's a big mech, Prime," Jazz growled, watching as a large dark blue mech stepped out of the Twins and Ratchet's quarters, the CMO flung over his shoulder and three wailing sparklings in an energy grid – like caged animals. He followed Shadetamer, whose black and silver armour was spattered with energon and he was grinning manically.
"I want you to find out everything you can. Anything you can find in the databanks on these two, I want in my hand in a report yesterday."
"Yes sir!" they coursed.
A day later
"Brothers?" Mirage's voice was tinted with surprise.
Jazz had to admit that the feeling was mutual. It certainly explained a lot of things as well as make things that much more complicated.
"Look, we may not have known them well, but Shadetamer and Backtrack were - are - brothers. Shadetamer's older. Sunny had more issues with that one, his mouth up in the stands and all," Sideswipe clarified. "But they were registered in the Pits as brothers."
"And you?"
Sideswipe gave the noble at the impromptu meeting a significant look. "Kinda had my hands full with Backtrack. You know, as in NOT getting my helm ripped off..."
Prowl pulsed along their bond in realisation, and Jazz felt as if things were falling into place a little bit. "Ah know what I need to about Shadetamer already. Backtrack was the unknown factor. Although now it's clear why Shaders never tore this mech apart. Anything else you can tell us, Sides?"
"Other than Backtrack is more brawn than CPU. If he had actually thought when we fought than I may not be here today. Mech's strong. Like he could belt MOTORMASTER a hard one strong."
"So don't let him get his servos on you," Hound clarified. "Sounds fun."
"Until you're missing an arm..." Sideswipe muttered, rubbing at his chestplates at the same time Sunstreaker did. He didn't like this inaction and he knew it was killing his twin.
"Very well..." Prowl spoke up for the first time, voice quiet. The saboteur resisted the urge to prod his mate's side of the bond, which had grown strangely silent. "Then we will start planning along the lines of the worst. That they have gone back to Cybertron is a distinct possibility, but we will have a contingency plan if they have not. Prime and I will -"
"No."
Anger lanced across the bond.
The SIC glanced up at his mate. "I'm sorry?"
"No, Prowl. YOU will only be planning. Ah ain't sending ya out there in your condition."
Silence.
Prowl completely closed off the bond, realising what the visored mech was trying to do.
"What condition?" Sideswipe demanded, looking at both black and white's suspiciously.
"It's nothing," said Prowl, voice firm and neutral, but his expression was thunderous as he looked at his bondmate.
Jazz met the glare and he threatened, "If Ah tell 'em, maybe it'll stop ya."
"You wouldn't dare use this against me Jazz. Don't you dare. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker need my plan to work to its fullest, and the only way that will happen is if I'm there. Or else the probability of getting Ratchet and all three sparklings back alive decreases to only 61% from its previous 89%," the doorwinged mech growled, surprising all in the room with the strength of it.
The saboteur threw his hands up in the air and argued, "Ah ain't lettin ya endanger our sparkling and that's final!"
Prowl gave a smirk that was as cold and bitter as a windy winter's day. "Thank you, Jazz. You have only strengthened my resolve. I am going out there. I am helping Sideswipe and Sunstreaker to reclaim what's rightfully supposed to be here and safe."
"You mean..." Hound broke in uncertainly, "You already came up with a plan with this information we gave you just now?"
Prowl inwardly shook his helm. They would never learn that it was what his tactical computer was solely made for. He turned his calm, steady gaze on the tracker and replied, "Indeed. And as far as I can see, if all goes our way it will be 89% successful. With the limited time we have, that is the percentage I will be happy with. All will be revealed, but all four of you must go and rally the troops. Go."
They left, and the Praxian turned to his mate, who was staring stubbornly over to a wall. Approaching, he whispered, "I will be fine. Please. We need to help this family, before ours gets started. I can't bear the thought that one of their sparklings, or Primus forbid, Ratchet, dies, that it will be our fault because we got a little too protective."
Jazz turned his gaze back to his sparkmate, who cupped his cheek and kissed him tenderly. He responded, before pulling back and sighing in defeat. "Ah know. Ah don't like it though."
"You never had to. Now, let's go kick some can, hmm?"
The smaller black and white hesitated, pressing their forehelms together. "We will. And then ya're comin' home and lettin' me pamper ya all day every day until our sparklin' comes. Ah don't like that ya're so necessary to somethin' workin'."
"SIC, remember?" Prowl said teasingly, prodding his mate's side of the bond in hopes of lightening his mood. "And not even Prime would have been able to talk me down from this if he had known of the sparkling."
Jazz sighed and pulled Prowl into his lap. "No, but you'd have him sick wit' worry. Ah'm already sick wit' worry."
"I know. And I am sorry, but I cannot risk the safe return of our dear friend and the sparklings that have given us so much hope just because I got too worried about the future. If it was meant to be, then I will be fine. Primus will see to it."
"Nevah took ya as the religious type, Prowlie."
Prowl suddenly frowned. "I wish you would not call me that."
"But I love ya so much, Prowlie. It's a declaration of my affection, Prowlie."
The tactician's frown subsided at his mate's lightened mood - which was what he had been wanting to achieve. He left the matter alone, knowing Jazz would only continue to call him...that...and instead dragged him into another kiss. He could never get tired of kissing Jazz, who responded with an almost desperate enthusiasm. In spite of all their reassuring that things would be fine, Prowl felt an inkling that everything was not going to be.
Prowl hadn't done stealth and espionage for a long time.
Therefore it was refreshing to sneak around the forest where the 'secret' base was with Bluestreak, making sure they didn't arouse suspicion and divert the attention from the convoy of mechs heading directly at the base.
They made their way to a hill, a very good vantage point from where he and the young gunner could pick off targets at random. As they set up, Prowl found his thoughts torn between the battle/rescue plan and the thought of his sparkling. And the danger being here possessed.
"They're going to be okay, right Prowl?" Bluestreak asked, breaking into his thoughts.
Prowl nodded, ascertained in Jazz's skills as well as the Twins abilities to find and protect their family. "They will be fine and we will come out victorious."
There was a hesitant pause. "What if we don't?
"We have to." The conviction in the SIC's voice was apparent on his face. "We don't have a choice."
Jazz drove alongside Prime as the main Autobot convoy travelled at record speed across the expanse of plateau stretching before the forest, his thoughts torn between his mate's well being and the fact that his Prime was currently driving across a wide open space with no cover. The entire situation had him on edge.
:~ We are in position, love.~: Prowl's voice over their bond calmed him slightly, but he still sent his apprehension over the bond. He received love and assurance in return.
They continued to drive up, disquiet permeating their fields. It was slightly foolish. It was a tempt, to the Decepticons as well, one they could not resist. Everyone was in position. Sunstreaker and Sideswipe in the forest, Hound and Mirage working their way to rescue the sparklings. Now all they had to wait for was...
"PRIME!"
Jazz and the rest of the mechs in the convoy transformed as Megatron dropped to Earth, having come from the base. Jazz smirked. Megatron was getting far too predictable.
The sound of clangs and whirrs filled the air as drone after drone began to pour out from the base.
"Oh yeah, bring it on," the saboteur murmured to himself. His resolve was strong today. Not only was he doing this for Ratchet and the triplets, but for Prowl and their unborn sparkling as well. It gave him a surge of strength and pride, and he let his gun slip easily into his hands.
Prime growled, Megatron snarled.
And then they flew at each other and battle began.
Prowl sighed, the issue with the Aerials solved temporarily. Starscream and his trine were going to be a problem, but he was confident that Hound and Mirage were capable of handling it. That left the problem of Shockwave.
The purple behemoth was in his sights, the coward hiding once more behind his army of drones. He could end his threat right here with just a pull of the trig-
-Bang!-
Frag. He was off, his shot going wide and downing a drone on Shockwave's right. Well, he was no Bluestreak. Re-settling the rifle on against his shoulder, he aimed again, biding his time for the right moment, the sparklet doing circles around his spark being unsure of all the energy around. He pulled the trigger again and cursed silently to himself when he missed, hitting the mech's cannon arm instead thanks to a rattling BOOM that shook the battlefield. He heard Bluestreak mutter beside about Wheeljack and offered his silent agreement before re-aiming... on empty ground.
SLAG!
Where had Shockwave gone?
He lifted his optics from his rifle, hoping to catch sight of the purple mech.
Scanning the ground, he was surprised when he saw Shockwave standing a little closer to their position, raising something.
Just as he looked over the rock outcropping to see what it was, his vision was suddenly filled with static and pure, blinding pain hit him with the force of a comet.
The last thing he heard was a high, fearful scream.
A scream, that screamed his name, as pain faded into nothingness, and he fell unconscious.
One moment he had been fighting with all his strength, downing drone after drone and even successfully landing a few hits on Megatron while he and Prime fought.
And then white burning pain filled him, searing through him and he instinctively called out his lover's name. "PROWL!"
Several mechs paused, turning in their surprise to stare at him.
Jazz stood there, shaking, aware of many things at once. Starscream was turning on Megatron with his Trine supporting him. Over Ratchet's sparklings no less. The battle had almost completely paused, Shockwave advancing on the 'Con SIC with all his deadly intent. Wheeljack rushing to his side along with First Aid to see what was wrong. He was aware of all of these things, aware of the murmuring voices in his audios.
But the pain in his spark was the worst. What had happened? What had gone wrong?
The saboteur reviewed the last of his mate's memories. The confusion, the fear, the pain...
"Jazz? What happened? I can't help unless you tell me...!" First Aid was trying to shake him out of it.
"P-prowl's..."
And everything snapped into place with sickening clarity as a desperate rage filled his entire being, feuled by pain and spark break. He wheeled, expression murderous and easily read in every hard line of his body as he rounded on the large Decepticon sycophant. "YOU!" His digit jabbed towards the 'Con. "YOU KILLED MAH SPARKLING!"
There was a roar of engines as the Command trine and the Conehead trine rose up and landed very close to Shockwave. The mech looked around in a manner that suggested 'who, me?' but it didn't matter to Jazz. He was blinded by rage, focussing on the purple hide getting bigger in his vision as he ran. An intense lust for the one opticked mechs energon to coat his hands rose in him, and he snarled, fishing twin energon blades out of subspace. He wanted this to be messy and personal.
"Ah'll KILL you!" he bellowed, leaping up and slashing the stunned mech's shoulder lines.
There was a shrill cry in Seeker cant, and six pairs of servos joined him in ripping apart Shockwave.
If Shockwave tried to fight back, he didn't notice. Not to mention a 7 on 1 was a fight in which he could do nothing.
Jazz snarled again, using his fists and daggers, trying to get to the chestplates to carve that spark away and extinguish it. How dare he? HOW DARE HE MURDER HIS SPARKLING!
Starscream was right there with him, shrieking and pummelling away at the yellow optic in his own rage, Seeker protective instincts going wild.
Tearing away a large portion of side plating and jabbing a dagger into an oil tank, the saboteur was heedless to the call of First Aid, and also to Megatron as the warlord reached where the six jet's were tearing into Shockwave's plating with him. He only realised when the purple fled his vision. Like an angry jaguar, he lunged for the body as it was taken away, legless and missing an antenna and half an arm and energon everywhere. He wasn't finished yet! He roared, grabbing his gun, but found a hand stopping him.
It was Starscream. The words shaped by the mouth were meaningless until he heard 'Prowl.'
"Wha-"
"Your mate needs you," Starscream said quietly.
Jazz clenched his fists, digits digging into his palms as he glared murder up at the Decepticon leader and the purple coward in his grasp. He turned to Starscream. "And Ah suppose Ah just leave ya ta take care o' him?"
Starscream shook his helm. "I cannot fly with my wing in its condition and my wingmate needs ME as well."
They stood staring at each other for several moments before Jazz nodded and they each turned. Starscream to talk to the waiting Coneheads and Jazz to follow First Aid to go after his mate.
Awareness can be a truly terrible thing.
Prowl onlined, a split second of nothingness - no knowledge of what had happened - before memories assaulted him. His and Jazz's premonitions. The battle. Shockwave. Before his optics were even on, his mouth opened in a scream of anguish, the hole in his spark making itself inevitably and painfully known. He was unaware of the hands gripping his hands or the voice begging him to open his optics. He was deaf, dumb, and blind to it all. His whole being screamed for the loss of the life that had been growing within him.
"NOOOO!" he screamed, sobbing uncontrollably.
His sparkling...his beautiful sparkling was gone.
It was his fault, all his fault. How could Jazz see him as true mate material now? He let out a keen of anguish, hands coming up to scratch at his chestplating.
"Prowler!" sobbed a desperate voice from beside him.
He finally opened his optics, and through his tears he glimpsed the morose face of his bonded. His shame flooded him and he mumbled, "I'm so sorry Jazz. I failed you...I failed you...I failed him...My fault, I went into b-battle."
Warm arms enveloped him and a low voice crooned in his audial, "No baby, not ya're fault. Don't think that. Shockwave's fault. Don't worry sweetspark, we'll get through this together."
As he continued to sob, Prowl failed to see how that would ever become a reality.
A/N: *Looks up at big chapter, then at readers* We hope you all liked this. Yes, it was angsty. Very angsty and almost abruptly so after last chapter, but remember the time has passed and this is a new chapter in their lives and one of the strongest hurdles they will ever face.
So please review. It's not only me, but Kat who would love to see what you thought.
Until next time, have a nice day!