AN: First off I'd like to extend a big thank you anyone and everyone who has read, reviewed, favorited, or added this story to their alerts. You're all great for doing that.
To PrancingTiger86, xStarSaber, Elita One,Yami-Yugi3, blood shifter, pl2363, Jessie07, Ember Koramin. Thanks to all of for reviewing chapter six. I really appreciate it. You guys leave some great comments.
Disclaimer: Transformers isn't mine. How many more times do I have to say it?
And here's chapter Seven. For some reason this chapter was very hard to write. I just hope it comes off okay. Feel free to let me know if it doesn't.
Making Sense of the Illogical
Chapter Seven
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
Prowl was having a very busy couple of orns. There wasn't a joor that went by that he didn't find himself without some type of work to do lately.
Which, he reflected in the quiet sanctity of his room, wasn't such a bad thing.
His work was a vital (extremely vital, and he would keep insisting on that until his deactivation day) part of his position and it helped him accomplish many things:
It helped him keep track of the Autobots and their various positions in all of the different sectors and city-states.
It was a useful (though again he wouldn't admit to it even on his deactivation day) way to annoy those bots that got under his plating without having to do any overt retaliation.
It kept him intellectually stimulated and on (not so rare) nights helped him go into recharge (especially Perceptor's reports-by Primus that scientist was long-winded).
And recently it also gave him a particularly useful excuse to get out of having to see Jazz.
Setting aside the report in his hand Prowl picked up another data-padd from the stack next to him and laid back on his berth, trying (valiantly) to concentrate on the (poorly spelled-seriously every bot had spell check pre-installed in their coding, there was absolutely no excuse for this mess) words, but instead finding his concentration split because he still couldn't to get the image of Jazz and Trailbreaker out of his head.
No matter how many times he instructed his CPU to terminate the image, or how many times he ran a memory sweep and instructed his firewalls to block the scene, it still continued to play out in his processor.
It was annoying to say the least.
It was utterly inescapable to say the most.
Nevertheless Prowl had been trying his best to get out of its clutches, and to that end had been finding other ways to occupy his processor.
Like loading himself down with personnel reports, data-padd's full of tactical information and doing extra rounds to make sure that the bots on the base were getting their shifts and duties done.
It wasn't so bad, Prowl thought as he added his signature to the bottom of the most recent discipline statement (involving both the twins and the mini-bots), to be so busy that he was missing regular recharge cycles and having Ratchet stalk him (and sending some of his medics if he was unable to come himself) until he consumed his allotted share of energon.
No, Prowl considered, it wasn't unpleasant to bury yourself in work and miss socializing with mechs (though he didn't do that much in the first place), particularly if it stopped you from dwelling on things.
Like Trailbreaker kissing Jazz.
Prowl once again ordered his CPU to terminate the memory sequence as it started to replay (again!).
Checking the data-padd one last time for mistakes, Prowl put the signed list of infractions on top of the (already sizeable) stack that was on the floor next to his berth and picked up the next one off the pile next to him to look over (Red Alert's latest Decepticon spy list Prowl noticed with dismay).
No, Prowl told himself as he tried (and mostly failed) to lose himself in the report (and ignored his systems chiming at him, reminding him it was time to recharge); it wasn't so bad living life this way.
-TRANSFORMERS_TRANSFORMERS_TRANSFORMERS_TRANSFORME RS-
Avoiding Jazz had become almost as commonplace as him having work over the last couple of orns as well, the black and White tactician thought moodily as he exited Prime's office.
It had taken all of his particular diplomacy skills to get out of the latest meeting that he had been scheduled to have with Jazz. It was the fifth one in the last eight joors.
It seemed that he had now ducked Jazz (having refused outright to see him after the scene in the med. bay and, when Jazz wouldn't stop tracking him, coming up with ever more eventful excuses to escape him) so often that the saboteur had gone straight to Optimus himself to request that the Autobot Commander set up a meeting with the two of them instead.
Jazz was apparently getting rather desperate if Prime's words were to be believed. And it had led to Optimus asking Prowl point-blank just what Jazz had done that was making him keep clear of the sub-commander.
It was a problem, the Prime had pointed out needlessly to the SIC in the middle of a (rather spectacular) dressing-down, because as the head of the Autobot's Tactical Department and a ranking officer he had to be able to plan operations and strategies with Jazz since Jazz was the head of the Special Operations Department and Optimus' left hand mech.
And that didn't work if he refused to be in the same area as the one he was supposed to be doing these things with.
Prowl scowled and resisted the (overwhelming) urge to kick the wall. He was frustrated out of his processor at himself, Jazz, and the entire situation.
And of course he knew about all the problems that he was causing by avoiding Jazz. He didn't need Optimus to tell him what they were.
But did anybody consider the problems that Jazz caused him by persistently seeking him out?
He was unable to get any work done because the saboteur now insisted upon visiting him whenever he was in his office (hence the large pile of reports now waiting for him in his quarters).
He hadn't been able to step foot into most of the common areas of the base lest one of Jazz's mechs (blast them all to the pit for their loyalty) inform their commander that he was free and available (which had led to Ratchet's most recent stalking campaign since he now refused to get energon when the mess room had any mechs in it-which, unfortunately, was pretty much all of the time).
He was also now officially on report for dereliction of duty thanks to all the time that he had spent actively evading the Autobot third-in-command.
And to top it all off he seemed to have developed an extremely unreasonable (though the voices were adamantly telling him otherwise) hatred of Trailbreaker as well.
Yes, Prowl thought as he stepped into the Command Center to start his shift (all the while ignoring the looks of curiosity that were thrown in his direction), he had problems.
Or actually just one problem, prowl thought contemptuously as he logged onto the system.
Just one utterly insurmountable, inescapable problem.
Just one utterly insurmountable, inescapable problem that went by the name of Jazz.
-ARC ONE: END-
And now we are officially at the end of roughly the first third of the story. Next up, we get to see all of this from Jazz's POV. Should be interesting. Thank you for reading. KG.
*Edited for content, grammar and spelling on June 13, 2013*-Reposted November 4, 2013*