AN: Well here's the second half of the chapter, as promised. To everyone who said that the last chapter wasn't too morbid. I'm glad. Maybe it was just a poor word choice on my part, or maybe my standards for morbid are just different than everybody else's. *Shrugs*
Thank you to any and everyone who read and reviewed the last chapter. As some of you pointed out it probably was pretty obvious that one of them would end up in Ratchet's domain.
To PrancingTiger86, Yami-Yugi3, TammyCat, cmdrtekk, blood shifter, Maraluch, Jessie07, DitzyMusicLover, and Elita One: You guys are great for reviewing. I actually feel pretty terrible. I'm really bad at answering reviews, and I really meant to for chapter four. I was all set to do it but loss of internet and homework (I'm on Spring Break and I still have homework *sighs*) foiled my plans. Sorry if it seems like I'm being rude or ignoring you. I'm really not, I love all the good reviews I've been getting, everyone has really kept me wanting to write this story. Hopefully I'll get around to it for one chapter at least. I promise to try. In any case. Thanks so much. You're all totally awesome (I'll have to find another word to put here at some point).
And to everyone else, you have all really motivated me too, I like that people like the story enough to read it and give it a shot. Thanks.
(And with all the sappy stuff out of the way…)
Disclaimer: Nope, still don't own transformers. Darn.
And now…Enjoy! (Or at least I hope you do…)
Making Sense of the Illogical
Chapter Five
Klick- About One Earth Second
Breem - 8.3 Earth minutes
Cycle-One Earth Hour
Joor – One Earth Day
Orn - About Two Earth Weeks
Vorn - About 83 Earth years
It was nearly an orn before most of the clean-up of Iacon was done. It had required an extensive amount of manpower and doubled shifts for all able-bodied bots, but Prowl was (secretly) proud to note that the repair efforts had gone smoothly. He would have to be sure to tell Optimus about the Autobot's exemplary behavior (even the twins had been on their best manners. True that it wasn't much above what most mechs would consider barely civil and placid, but it was something anyway), especially in the face of such total and absolute destruction.
The final count of those mechs that had been off-lined was seventy-nine.
And for a race that had only ever numbered a few hundred thousand before a civil war that had destroyed half of its population, that was a very significant figure indeed.
The Autobots had lost a full four teams in the Decepticon blitz attack and more than one unit was now missing a critical (and in some cases, non-replaceable) member.
The public ceremony for the fallen (dutifully attended by all those well enough to go) had taken place only two joors after the battle, with Optimus personally heading the proceedings. Despite that though, most of the mourning was being done in private, behind closed doors. And if some bots chose to report for duty a little overcharged this orn, well the command element wasn't going to say anything.
Even Red Alert had been known to look the other way when unit members had suspiciously (and sometimes illegally) gathered in the dead of the night to try and find some solace in their friends and to reminisce about their missing comrades.
But as time had shown them more than once, life had to continue on. There were still shifts to cover and jobs to complete. And so everyone was slowly and cautiously starting to fall back into their chosen routines.
Dead comrades or not, battles of not, war or not, the world couldn't completely stop functioning just because of Decepticon wrought disasters.
Which was why Prowl was here, in his office, looking over casualty reports and trying to rearrange the duty shifts to accommodate the dramatic decrease in the Autobot's population. He wasn't making much progress though as his optics kept involuntarily drifting down to the third name on the list of those still in stasis in the medical center.
Jazz.
Prowl unconsciously tapped his fingers on his desktop, anxious beyond his ability to reason.
He had been officially banned from the med-bay the joor before by Ratchet, who had said he was tired of seeing the SIC in his doorway and that his almost constant presence was having an unsettling effect on those few mechs who were still confined to the repair bay.
And so, unable to go and see how Jazz was doing, Prowl had nothing but his work to distract himself from the almost overwhelming presence of the saboteur in his CPU (and the persistent voices in his processor). It was almost to the point where prowl was ready to say to the pit with whatever Ratchet had said. He could always pull rank if he had to.
Prowl set down his duty-logs and sighed through his intakes. That would have to wait though, he noted morosely. He had a meeting to attend first.
-TRANSFORMERS_TRANSFORMERS_TRANSFORMERS_TRANSFORME RS-
The next Autobot debriefing was one of the most somber gatherings that had occurred in a long time.
The atmosphere was downright gloomy. And thanks to all the things that had to be covered because of the Decepticons, it was also dragging on way too many cycles for any of the assembled mechs collective patience to hold out much longer.
Prowl himself was feeling too tense to sit here anymore. Luckily the meeting was just about done.
Tuning back into the proceedings Prowl started paying attention just in time to hear Optimus thank Perceptor and Wheeljack for their analysis of the new chemical substance that Starscream's trine had dumped (indiscriminately) onto whole clusters of the Autobot army. Prowl internally winced at the reminder. The substance in question had eaten right through most of the Autobot's outer plating and had driven Ratchet into (in most bot's opinions) his most infamous fit to date. It had also attributed to at least half of the death's that had been incurred in the battle. Optimus himself had ordered the two scientists to analyze the substance and try to come up with a way to counter it-before it obliterated all of the Autobot's forces.
And despite the dangerous nature of the chemical, it wasn't even the most pressing thing on the agenda.
Prowl gathered his notes into his hand and stood up as the group turned their attention onto him.
He almost hated to bring this up (especially after the orn that everyone had already had to endure), but it had to be done.
Not knowing any other ways to say this, Prowl decided that direct would be best. "Our energon sources are almost gone." He started bluntly.
Cries of dismay immediately rang around the room, and more than one bot started to mutter to themselves disconsolately.
"Silence!" Optimus shouted out, waiting until even the most sullen of mechs had quieted.
Optimus turned to his second-in-command, optics serious.
"You're sure Prowl?"
Prowl nodded his head. "Yes sir. That last battle tapped us dry. The Decepticons were successful in emptying out the last of Iacon's energon stores and drying up the energon pools. I estimate that we will have to start rationing our energon in a little over ten orns, and that Autobase itself will be completely depleted of fuel within the next vorn and a half."
Prowl stood there after his grim pronouncement and watched as his leader's face went from dismayed to outright alarmed (of course it was sometimes hard to tell with Optimus since he kept his battle mask on most of the time, but Prowl made it his business to know these things).
Optimus set his hands down on the table, gesturing for Prowl to retake his seat.
"Thank you for bringing that to our attention Prowl." Optimus thanked the tactician before turning his attention back to the rest of the assembled Autobots.
"I would like to thank everyone for being so accommodating and cooperative during this hard time. I know it has been a trying couple of joors for most. You have all made me proud. Obviously we have some problems to fix, but I have no doubt that with everyone's help and cooperation we will get through them."
Optimus held all the gathered Autobots in his gaze for a breem, trying to convey the seriousness of his words before standing up and officially ending the meeting, much to Prowl's (internal) relief.
-TRANSFORMERS_TRANSFORMERS_TRANSFORMERS_TRANSFORME RS-
Jazz will be okay.
Hoist's words echoed back to Prowl as he hastily (and tried to not make it seem that way) made his way towards the repair bay, almost physically shoving bots out of his way in his rush.
He had just gotten word from Ratchet that Jazz had finally (finally!) regained consciousness and he was anxious to see the third-in-command. He had (literally) dropped everything he was working on (he would have to remember to pick up those tactical reports on his way back to his office) and started making his way down here the klick that Ratchet had commed. him to tell him that Jazz had finally rejoined the land of the online and functioning. Well, not quite functioning, Prowl mused. Jazz would still have to endure Ratchet's company for another orn or two while he recovered, but at the very least he was now awake.
So here Prowl was (two breems and three point four nine klicks after Ratchet had informed of Jazz's awakening) heading down to the lower levels of the base, apprehensive and excited about seeing Jazz.
Prowl's spark was beating wildly in his spark chamber and the fuel in his lines was flowing twice as fast as it should have. He might have been overheating too.
But none of that mattered. All that mattered right now was that Ratchet was letting him back into the medical bay.
To see Jazz.
Jazz. Beautiful, gorgeous (and did he mention beautiful?) Jazz.
The voices in his head were practically singing. He was going to see Jazz!
-TRANSFORMERS_TRANSFORMERS_TRANSFORMERS_TRANSFORME RS-
Jazz was okay.
In spite of the insistence of the voices in his head that he had to pin Jazz to his berth and hug him senseless the breem that he saw him, the tactician managed (somehow and through a sheer will power he hadn't been aware that he possessed until now) to be walking at a calm, sedate pace when he strode through the doors leading to the medical center.
It was taking all of his self-control not to rush right over to Jazz's berth, wrap the saboteur in his arms and promise to never let him go again.
He was managing not to. Somehow.
But he desperately wanted to.
Weaving through the berths, Prowl acknowledged those few bots that called out greetings, waved distractedly to Ratchet (who was lecturing Sideswipe in his office) and made his way to the other side of the ward where the head of the Special Operations department was resting.
Prowl stepped inside the curtained off area where Jazz was resting, prepared to address Jazz and cater to his every need, but the sight that met his optics brought the SIC up short.
Jazz apparently already had company. More importantly, he was kissing Trailbreaker.
Jazz, Kissing Trailbreaker.
The room spun wildly for a klick and Prowl was finding it harder and harder to focus on the scene that was playing out in front of him.
Jazz.
Kissing.
Trailbreaker.
Prowl could feel an ache starting somewhere deep in his processors just as the world started becoming smaller and dimmer.
The two bots on the berth looked up when Prowl made a strangled noise through his vocalizer.
Jazz looked at Prowl, startled. He hurriedly extricated himself from Trailbreaker and lifted himself onto his elbows.
"Prowl…" Jazz began turning look to the commander, but it went unacknowledged as Prowl finally fell into the dark oblivion of the offline.
*Edited for content, grammar and spelling on June 3, 2013*-Re posted on September 2, 2013*