Aaaalmost bumped the rating up for this chapter. And then I didn't. Enjoy!
Enemy of mine, I'll fuck you like the devil.
Violent inside, beautiful and evil.
I'm a ghost. You're an angel.
We're one and the same, just remains of an age.
Lost in a day dream, what do you see?
If you're looking for Jesus, get on your knees!
Enemy of mine, I'm just a stranger in a strange land.
Running out of time, better go, go, go!
Angel or a demon, I gave up my soul,
I'm guilty of treason, I've abandoned control.
-30 Seconds to Mars
Jazz had heard the footsteps, listened to the click of the lock on his cell, but he couldn't be bothered to power on his optics and see who it was. He wasn't sure if he could manage it, actually. All power had been diverted to simply keeping himself conscious. His energy had dropped past critical levels, and even his specialized system overrides weren't doing any good. The foggy, still powered part of his processor wondered if they intended to let him die down here, but as a hand touched his neck, he knew that wasn't the case.
Damn.
The fingers left his neck and were quickly replaced by a short sting of pain. He didn't even have the energy to wince, though he noticed his energy levels slowly begin to rise. As the numbers lifted into the single digits, systems slowly started coming back online, his override program allowing them to restart as his system hit those energy mile markers. His chronometer was one of the first and he frowned. It was nearly three in the morning, local time. Of course, he knew who was coming down here in the middle of the night to take care of him—the real question was why.
When his systems reached a relatively comfortable 15%, his visor was finally allowed to reboot, bringing Soundwave into focus. He was crouched in front of him, a small medical scanner in his hand. Jazz blinked as he followed the cord that trailed from it to the port on his wrist. Primus, he hadn't even felt him plug in. That was an unnerving thought, but there was nothing he could do about it now. Besides, even as drained as he was, he wasn't detecting anything other than a simple medical scan.
Soundwave looked up, his visor meeting his own in silence, and Jazz wasn't willing to say a word. He leaned his head back against the damp wall behind him, focusing on the steady rise of his energy. He felt Soundwave's hand on his neck again before a finger dipped underneath his collar armor in a quick caress. Jazz was alert in an instant and grabbed the mech's hand, twisting it into a painful lock.
Soundwave grunted and bent at the waist to try and lessen the tension on his creaking wrist and elbow joints. "Jazz, starting to rust," he pointed out and lifted the offending finger up to show the copper colored condensation that he had scooped off from under his armor.
Jazz shoved him away with the little strength he could muster, which, admittedly, wasn't much as his energy levels reached 18%. Vaguely, he noticed the energon shunt attached to his neck and the cube it was draining from resting on the floor next to him. Apparently Soundwave hadn't trusted him to feed himself. Honestly, he didn't either—his tanks were rolling uncomfortably still, even though the interrogation had happened two days ago. Or, at least he thought it was two days—it was hard to tell. "Maybe you shouldn't have parked your ship under the fragging ocean," he muttered and sank back against the wall, releasing his hand as he did. The blue mech stepped towards him again and Jazz flinched, unable to stop the response even as he hated himself for his weakness.
Soundwave stopped and Jazz felt the guilt that edged along the bond before the mech could abort it. "Soundwave will not hurt you," he said.
Jazz laughed, a harsh sound even to his own audios. "Tell that to my head that you tried to fuck," he spat. "You knew it wouldn't work—why try? I will say, I really enjoyed the pain you were feelin', but compared to the pain I was feelin', it wasn't worth it."
A displeased rumble made its way out of the blue mech, but he didn't respond. Ignoring Jazz's feeble protests, he knelt back down and double checked that the energon shunt on his neck hadn't been pulled free. "Jazz needs to rinse," he says. "Rust not severe. Can be cleared with solvent."
The saboteur's optics narrowed behind his visor, turning the blue light into slits. "Why do you care?" he asked. "Or is it a new policy in the Decepticon Code that actually allows for humane treatment of prisoners of war? Funny, I didn't get the memo."
Soundwave ignored him detached the spent energon shunt before he grabbed him under the arm, pulling him to his feet. His energy levels have been raised to a stable 25%, but it wasn't enough for him to be able to effectively fight back. He still struggled obstinately, trying to make every little thing difficult for the mech, even though it was more for catharsis than anything. The cell door was unlocked and Soundwave walked him out of the claustrophobic confines, into a narrow hall that would lead them out of the brig.
Jazz frowned, a thrill of fear rushing up his backstrut. In the brig, he knew what to expect, but as he was led out into the lower deck of the Nemesis, all bets were off. "No really, why come down here? It's not your job—Hook's the one who's supposed to be monitoring my energy levels and Ramjet's the one scheduled for guard duty. But look at that, he's so conveniently absent."
No falter in Soundwave's tread, no response at all.
"I know that your Lord and Master wouldn't dare let me go a moment unguarded. Just think of the mayhem I could cause?" he continued. "Did Megatron hand me over to you as a reward? Let you have your bondmate back for one more frag? Such a benevolent leader he is."
"Silence," he said. "Jazz is Soundwave's responsibility, no one else's."
Jazz sneered. "Just like the good ol' days," he spat and tried to jerk his arm out of the blue mech's grip. Soundwave's hand tightened, half lifting him off the ground as he led him through the halls. Jazz struggled for a moment longer, but his energy readings persistently warned him to desist with the usual threats of stasis and system lag. Finally, he relaxed as much as he was able to and fell into step beside the taller mech. He needed to choose his battles and a simple one-upping in an empty hall with nothing but the security cameras to witness was not a worthwhile one.
When they passed the public washracks, Jazz frowned. "I thought I was going for a rinse?"
Soundwave remained silent, but the grip on his arm tightened slightly. It took Jazz only a moment longer to realize where they were heading, and when he did, he dug his heels into the ground. "I'm not going to your fragging quarters," he snapped and finally managed to twist his arm out of the mech's grip. He stumbled back a few steps, one hand braced against the wall.
"Jazz, prefer to use the public washrooms? Shifts will be changing out soon. Undoubtedly other Decepticons will be present," Soundwave said.
Jazz swore under his breath, hand curling into a fist where it rested against the wall. He wanted to think that the mech was lying, but he didn't know the current schedule rotation. History had taught him all too well what happened when a group of Cons caught a mech when he was vulnerable and he had no desire to bring that upon himself. Soundwave seemed to sense his thoughts and offered a hand again.
"My quarters preferred?" he asked, voice distinctly smug through the filter of his synth.
"Asking whether I prefer your quarters to being molested by a bunch a soldiers—I hope you feel proud that you win that contest," Jazz snapped but pushed away from the wall. He nudged the mech's hand out of the way and kept walking through the hall. Soundwave followed close behind, poised and ready to subvert him. It was humiliating—felt like he was being led on a leash with Soundwave ready to tug back if he got too far ahead. But Jazz had suffered far worse humiliations in the past, so he dealt with it silently.
They reached Soundwave's quarters without another word spoken and Jazz didn't waste any time keying in the mech's security code. He cast a smirk over his shoulder, as though daring the mech to ask how he knew before heading directly for the washroom, not bothering to wait for permission. He wanted to get this over with.
He couldn't help but cast a quick glance around Soundwave's quarters. Megatron definitely did well by his officers and he was sure that Soundwave's symbiotes had granted him a larger area than most. Speaking of symbiotes, he was almost surprised to see that not a single one of them was present—at least not visibly. Something told him that at least one of them was here, watching to be sure Jazz didn't try anything. If he was in better condition, he would have most certainly considered it, but with his energy only a quarter full and him feeling sick to his tanks from the sudden energy influx, he decided to save himself the embarrassment of a certain defeat.
He locked the door as soon as it closed and stepped into the shower, shivering as the first burst of cold solvent hit him. The gentle torrent warmed rapidly and Jazz rested his hand against the wall, enjoying the sensation as it lessened the numerous aches and pains on his frame. He watched the rust tinted water circle down the drain until it finally started to clear, but still had no urge to move. Slowly, he sank down to the shower floor, lowering his head so the solvent trickled down his neck and under his collar armor like a gentle caress.
One hand rubbed over his chassis, over his spark that ached with a near persistent throb. He wanted to believe it was just a fluke, something brought on by too much stress, or from his interrogation, but he knew it was because of his proximity with Soundwave. For vorns, it had seemed like they would never have to see each other again—the war had split them to opposite sides of the planet, and then, after the Exodus, had taken them even further apart. There had even been times where Jazz could almost forget about the nagging tug in his spark, forget about the constant sense that he was missing something.
A knock sounded on the door and he sighed, opening his optics to glare through the curtain of solvent. "I've decided that I'm stayin' in here for the rest of my stay in the Nemesis. You can find a different washrack to use," Jazz called out.
Soundwave didn't give a response but as soon as Jazz heard the lock on the door disengage, he shot back to his feet. The blue mech stepped into the room, vainly attempting to brush the steam from his visor as he reached over and manually turned off the solvent. Jazz backed away from his hand like it was infected.
"Out," Soundwave ordered.
Jazz stayed where he was, and when Soundwave reached for him, he smoothly dipped under his arm and stepped behind him, dripping solvent over the floor. Even as slow as he felt, he was still faster than Soundwave. "A'ight, fine. Not open to the idea of having me as a roommate again. I'll just go back to rotting in my cell. Thanks again for that, by the way. I've so wanted to come back to the Nemesis for a vacation," he said.
Soundwave remained silent and took another step towards him, reaching for his arm. Jazz danced out of his way again, into the main room, deliberately flinging more solvent off of his armor. "I don't think I've properly thanked you yet. So here, thank you, Soundwave, for forcing me here. I hope you're proud of the cruel piece of slag you've become."
The light of Soundwave's visor darkened and Jazz felt the flare of anger over the bond, more potent than he'd ever felt before. Apparently he wasn't the only one being affected by the close proximity. Jazz backed away as the mech stormed towards him, but couldn't avoid the vice that clenched down on his spark, stopping him in his tracks. The face mask slid away as his hand wrapped around Jazz's neck, pinning him to the wall behind him.
"Jazz dares to speak to me about cruelty?" he asked, voice quiet with rage. The grip on his spark relented and Jazz's hands flew to Soundwave's as the blue mech's grip tightened. He dug his fingers into his wrist joint, but Soundwave didn't let go, pressing him harder against the wall.
His spark pulsed at the proximity even as he bared his dentals. "Don't you try to turn this back on me, you son of a glitch," he growled. "I wasn't the one planning a genocide behind my mate's back!"
"You abandoned your family!" Soundwave said. "You abandoned the sparklings you helped create- you abandoned me! After all I did for you-"
Jazz finally managed to get his feet up and kick the mech away. He panted and rubbed his neck, vents whirring hard with something that wasn't quite exertion. "What, you mean help organize Praxus? You mean lettin' them destroy me after I came clean to you? Yet another thing I need to thank you for! I told you everything I'd done before I left, not that you deserved it. And what did you do? You handed me over to Megtro-"
"I helped you escape!" Soundwave shouted. He winced and was quiet for a moment, as though checking to be sure no one else could have heard, which Jazz realized, he probably was. He continued on in a quieter voice. "Who else would have glitched the energy bars so you could pick the lock? Who else would have called one of the guards away so you would have no issue getting around the other?"
Jazz stared at the mech and opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He swallowed, a tremor rushing up his backstrut as he thought back to that day. "You're lying," he said at last.
Soundwave closed the distance between them again and Jazz flinched, though the mech only grabbed his shoulders. "Not this time," he said, sounding exhausted and Jazz could feel the truth of his words. He looked at him, face a mask a pain. "Do you even realize how impossible it was for me to watch what they did to you? Megatron said he would be merciful—I didn't realize that that was his style of mercy."
Jazz looked away and pushed off Soundwave's unresisting hands. He paced the length of the room, optics wide behind his visor, his tank a mess of knots even as his spark throbbed. "Why?" he asked, looking at the floor instead of him.
He heard the mech's heavy and familiar steps behind him. "You're my mate," he murmured, lips far too close to his audio. "Even then. Even now."
Jazz crossed his arms over his burning chassis, fingers gripping hard enough to dent. "Frag you," he muttered, unable to stop his voice from shaking, his resolve faring no better. "My mate wouldn't have killed innocent mechs—my mate wouldn't have organized the slaughter of sparklings just after creatin' his own. No, you are not my mate."
Pain radiated over the bond, as clear as if it had just been forged. His own spark throbbed in sympathy, age old urges to helpcomfortprotectlove flooding back in a rush that made him turn and face the mech that had meant so much to him. The hurt in the blue mech's stance was almost palpable and when he reached out a hand and gently laid it against Jazz's chassis, he couldn't bring himself to pull away, no matter how much his mind screamed at him. His spark blazed, begging, pleading, consuming until every thought was pushed from his mind, narrowed down to the single hand resting against his chassis.
"Meister…"
His name was his undoing. They crashed against each other, as though the bond was whole, both of them anticipating what the other might do. It wasn't gentle—it was harsh and desperate, their lips fighting against one another rather than just meeting. Dentals clanked and bit while hands scratched and grabbed until both of them ended up on Soundwave's berth with no knowledge or care of which one of them had led them there.
Jazz found himself on top, straddling the mech's waist, feeling his heated frame under him like an old memory. Soundwave's hips arched up in a silent plea, lifting Jazz's lighter frame easily as his hands gripped his waist. His hand found the seam on Soundwave's chassis and the touch was all he needed for his armor to fold open, panes peeling back to reveal his spark, hidden under the mess of wires from the signal dampener.
The sight of it brought Jazz back to himself, forced him to remember where he was and what he was doing. What would happen, he wondered, if he took the dampener off? It would be so easy to reach out and tear it away. Would it kill them? Jazz tried to decide if he cared as he reached a shaking hand towards it.
Soundwave's vents hitched and he jolted upright, grabbing Jazz's wrist hard enough to dent. The panic was there, radiating through the strained bond they shared and Jazz's optics narrowed behind his visor. Soundwave hesitated for a moment, as though mourning the moment that had been lost before pushing Jazz off of him. His chassis snapped closed and he pressed a hand over it as he got to his feet, facemask snapping back into place.
"Jazz will return to cell," he said, his monotone hiding the clipped tone Jazz knew was there.
Jazz nodded. "Yeah, that's probably best... for both of us."
'Well,' Mirage messaged, not about to risk speaking where he was. 'That was… interesting. When I first got my electro-disruptor installed, I certainly had ideas of using it for this purpose, but now I'm simply feeling a little traumatized.'
Bumblebee had his head buried in his hands, optics reluctantly peering out to watch the live feed from Mirage's optics. "I... Primus," Bumblebee said, unable to really comprehend what he had just witnessed.
Mirage shifted carefully, the combination of well-oiled joints and long, painful practice allowing him to move silently as he carefully retreated through the vents. He wanted to get as far from Soundwave's quarters as he could, preferably to a scalding shower where he could attempt to cleanse his optics. Soundwave, Jazz? Really? He had always thought the mech had better taste than that.
He had followed them to be sure Soundwave wasn't going to, well, attempt anything with Jazz and had gotten much more than he bargained for. 'Well, my great and wise CO, what in Primus' name do we do with that information?' Mirage asked, double checking the encryption on their communication. He dropped down from the vent into a small service closet that he had made into a suitable hiding place to give his disruptor a chance to recharge.
Bumblebee moaned into the comm., burying his face in his hands, elbows rested on Jazz's desk. "I have no idea," he said. "Honestly, not a fragging clue. Jazz, you moron..."
Mirage sighed and sat on top of the deactivated cleaning drone, checking his disruptor's charge. 46% was decent, but he'd rather have it full before he continued on. 'Please stop banging your head against the desk, the noise feedback is hurting my audios,' he said.
Bumblebee sighed and did as asked, head resting against the desk. "Sorry. I dunno, 'Raj- do we tell Optimus?" he asked. "I mean... it's obvious why he kept it secret. Bonded to a Decepticon- there's no way he would have been accepted as an Autobot if everyone had known. Especially being bonded to Soundwave." He shuddered at the thought. Even now that he'd heard what Soundwave's voice sounded like without the synth, he couldn't shake the thought that it must be like interfacing with a speak and spell. He shuddered and banished that thought as quickly as he could.
Mirage ran a hand over his helm. 'I'm convinced that Primus has a cruel sense of humor,' he said. 'How else could they have climbed so far into the ranks, even survived this long, only to both end up on Earth. The odds are...'
"Astronomical?" Bumblebee finished for him. "They're both too damn resourceful- that definitely helped their odds. Regardless, that still doesn't help us with the question of what to do now."
'And now you understand why I didn't want your position,' Mirage pointed out. 'I guess the real question is—do you still trust Jazz?'
Bumblebee sighed. "With my life and the Autobot cause," he said, resolute. "Just because he was bonded doesn't change that fact—if anything, it reinforces it. I mean Primus... he left his bond mate for us."
Mirage nodded, glad to find that he and Bumblebee felt very much the same. 'Not everyone will be as charitable as us,' he pointed out.
"I know," Bumblebee muttered. "We have to be careful who we share this with. I don't want to make Jazz into a pariah. We'll never get him back if people knew."
Mirage sighed and checked his electro-disruptor. 78%. 'Prowl's the one who approved this little mission,' he pointed out.
Bumblebee winced at that. "And he's also one of the strictest upholders of Autobot law, which this whole thing breaks on... way too many levels to count," he said. "No, we can't tell him." He moaned quietly and rubbed his optics. "I think the only mech I trust this with is Optimus. I think if anyone deserves to know, it's him. Then he can share it as he sees fit."
Mirage ran a hand over his helm. 'It's your decision to make,' he said. He checked his progress and found it at 91%. Good enough. 'Soundwave will be back in his quarters by now. I'm progressing to phase two.'
Bumblebee nodded and got to his feet. 'You're going it alone from here. I'm going to go find Optimus.'
Mirage activated his electro-disruptor before carefully climbing back into the vents, scanners alert for any sort of sensor. The Cons had gotten sneaker—he'd almost tripped a motion sensor earlier. 'Good luck,' he said. 'You couldn't pay me enough to trade places with you.'
Bumblebee snorted. "Yeah, thanks for that," he muttered and got to his feet. "Good luck to you as well. And punch Jazz in the stomach for me when you get to him."
Mirage smirked. 'I will relish it. Over and out.'