AN: First off, a big thanks to pl2363, Blood Shifter2, Independent.C., Mirage Shinkiro, Hot Rod's Girl, cmdrtekk, TammyCat, xStarSaber, Randomstrike, Elita One, PrancingTiger86, Jessie07 for all of your your reviews, motivation, ideas and well wishes for my paper. You guys rock.
As well, another big thanks goes out to everyone else out there who took the time to read this story. You all rock too.
This chapter brought to you by Rihanna (Yes I like her music, don't judge).
Enjoy!
Making Sense of the Illogical
Chapter Ten
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
Brooding wasn't something that Jazz did often. It was very unlike him, almost to the point that when he did it at all it freaked out more than one mech and femme. He was a fun-loving, party instigating Autobot, who, while responsible when he needed to be, preferred being the exact opposite, even when the occasion didn't call for it.
He just wasn't one to think over long on things. He operated best by feelings and instinct, with just a touch of creative planning and luck thrown into the mix for good measure.
In fact, some of his most successful missions had been ones where he had had to improvise spectacularly.
None of that was helping him now though.
Jazz let out a hiss of air through his intakes and rested his head against the cool metal of his desk.
He was supposed to be going over the latest intelligence reports that Ironhide had sent back to the base, but was constantly finding his attention dragged away from them because of Prowl.
He just couldn't believe that he had been that…unaware.
He had been thinking all joor about what Mirage had said.
'Why do you like Prowl?' Mirage's question echoed in his processor once more.
"Why indeed?" Jazz asked aloud as he slammed his unread report down on the desk hard enough to crack the display panel.
It was an excellent question, and one that Jazz had racked his CPU all during his recharge period trying to find an answer to.
The problem was that there wasn't just one answer.
It was countless little things:
It was the late night debates over troop placements and security arrangements that Prowl constantly engaged him in.
It was the casual gossip that he and Prowl liked to exchange over warm cubes of energon after working on reports for ten cycles straight.
It was the vorns of support and friendship that the two had built up and maintained through numberless battles and unit transfers.
It was everything really, and yet it was nothing.
At least, nothing that he could describe.
Why did he like Prowl? The question had lodged itself into his processor and was almost constantly repeating itself.
It was a confusing question. Pit, it was a confusing answer!
And Jazz wasn't sure what to do about it.
This should have been an easy situation really.
He liked Prowl (or at least all evidence was pointing in that direction), and normally he would have no problem acting on that knowledge.
But this wasn't a normal situation for several reasons:
One: It was Prowl he liked. His closest friend and immediate superior. And currently a bot that was avoiding him with a steadfastness that had managed to trip him up several times.
Two: He was still officially dating Trailbreaker.
And three: He still didn't know why Prowl was avoiding him, in spite of the fact that every other fragging bot on the base apparently did.
Suddenly (and before he could really get on a roll with his various mental renaming of certain Autobots) his chronometer beeped at him, startling him out of his thoughts.
Checking the time, Jazz let out one more sigh before pushing himself away from his desk, lamenting the fact that the situation just didn't make any sense.
It was in fact so illogical that it would probably cause Prowl's processor to lock-up if the tactician ever happened to be unlucky enough to ever encounter this kind of plight.
Letting out yet another frustrated huff at where his thoughts seemed to constantly be situated (Prowl, Prowl, and Prowl), Jazz exited the room, his chronometer once again reminding him that he had a promise to keep.
-TRANSFORMERS_TRANSFORMERS_TRANSFORMERS_TRANSFORME RS_TRANSFORMERS_TRANSFORMERS-
Later on in the joor Jazz was sitting next to Trailbreaker, leaning his head uncomfortably against the strategist's left shoulder joint as the two watched a holo-vid in Jazz's quarters.
If he was completely honest with himself he could admit that he would rather be anywhere on Cybertron (Decepticon bases excluded of course) at that moment than locked in his room with Trailbreaker.
Despite all of his misgivings and second thoughts Jazz had dutifully met Trailbreaker at the docking port and the two had caught up over some energon before retreating back to the third-in-command's quarters.
He had promised Trailbreaker that he would spend some time with him when he returned to the base (Trailbreaker having been loaned out to Ultra Magnus' troops for a couple orns).
Now though Jazz was seriously rethinking his decision to carry on with that arrangement.
He could have made excuses, gotten out of it, but his guilt about his thoughts about Prowl and his even weightier thoughts about disappointing Trailbreaker had pushed him to fulfill his obligations to the mech.
And those obligations included a little quiet time off shift watching some downloaded cine-vids on his personal holo-screen.
He wasn't really into it though; he was now feeling even guiltier than he had at the start of the cycle if that was at all possible.
And Trailbreaker apparently knew it too as the recently returned mech had been shooting him worried looks all night.
Unfortunately he was so wrapped up in contemplating the circumstances that he had unknowingly found himself in that he didn't realize that Trailbreaker was shifting under him, and he subsequently found himself fumbling slightly as Trailbreaker abruptly moved away, leaving a space where Jazz's head had previously been lying.
Throwing out a hand to steady himself against the floor, Jazz looked up at Trailbreaker through hazy optics.
"Trailbreaker...?" Jazz questioned softly as the black mech turned towards him with an intense blue-gaze made all the sharper by the dim lighting.
Without a sound Trailbreaker leaned in, capturing Jazz's lips with his, gently caressing them for a moment before running his glossa over Jazz's lip components, urgently seeking permission to deepen the kiss.
Taken aback Jazz instinctually pulled away, putting out a hand to stop Trailbreaker from leaning back down for another kiss.
"Jazz?" Trailbreaker asked confusedly after straightening himself, obviously thrown by the saboteur's unexpected reaction.
Staring guardedly at the bewildered Trailbreaker, warning bells started to go off in Jazz's head, telling him that this was wrong, imploringly him to leave before this went any further.
Deciding to finally heed his finely honed instincts Jazz stood up swiftly, causing Trailbreaker to do the same.
Backing up towards the door ungracefully, Jazz shook his head at Trailbreaker causing the strategist to freeze in place.
Again the mech looked at him, hurt written across his faceplate. "Jazz what…" He started asking, only to trail off at Jazz's expression.
Continuing to shake his head, Jazz finished backing up to the doors.
"Sorry Trailbreaker….I…I can't." He managed to say before reaching blindly behind him and hastily hitting the door controls, not even waiting for it to open all the way before taking his opportunity to flee from the room.
-TRANSFORMERS_TRANSFORMERS_TRANSFORMERS_TRANSFORME RS_TRANSFORMERS_TRANSFORMERS-
It was his own fault really. He shouldn't have met with Trailbreaker tonight.
He had known that it wouldn't end well from the moment Trailbreaker has stepped off of the ship, and should have heeded what his processor had been trying to tell him.
Sighing aloud he looked forlornly around the empty mess room before turning back to the table.
He hadn't thought it was possible to feel even guiltier than he had at the beginning of his date with Trailbreaker, but he did.
His emotions were running completely rampant right now, leaving him disoriented and out of sorts.
Luckily high-grade was proven to effectively kill all emotions, except those that made a bot extremely stupid and happy, ninety-eight percent of the time.
So it was a shame that he hadn't touched his yet. He could really use something to drown his sorrows in.
"You know high-grade is better when you drink it. Fascinating though the color composition of that particular batch is, it would probably better to consume it before Red Alert notices and decides to confiscate it."
Jazz looked up at Wheeljack, barely registering he fact that he hadn't been aware that the bot had entered the room.
"Care for some company?" The engineer inquired softly, and Jazz just shifted slightly in his seat before turning his visored optics back to the contents of his cube.
Taking that as an invite Wheeljack sat down, looking at Jazz with concerned optics.
"I saw Trailbreaker earlier." Wheeljack said after a few breems of silence.
Jazz did look up then, gazing at the green and white mech before looking away again.
Wheeljack let the silence hang in the atmosphere for a moment before broaching the subject again.
"He said that you ran out on him, apparently scared out of your CPU." Wheeljack said, prodding one of the saboteur's arms with a finger.
Wheeljack's vocal indicators flashed red in annoyance as this failed to rouse the saboteur from his mood.
"Jazz…" Wheeljack said heavily before reaching over the table and grabbing Jazz's untouched drink, taking a sip of it himself.
"You could always get the twins to detain him you know." Wheeljack offered suddenly.
"What?" Jazz's head shot up.
Nodding at the third-in-command, Wheeljack looked at Jazz with a slightly mischievous gleam in his optics.
"I'm sure that the twins would be quite willing to round up Prowl for you and tie him to a chair so that he can't escape again." Wheeljack said, vocal indicators flashing blue for a moment in amusement.
At that Jazz finally cracked a small smile.
"Only for the right price." Jazz quipped before chuckling slightly.
"True." The engineer bit out between laughs. "True."
Settling back into his chair Jazz let out a melancholy huff of air.
"The worst part," Jazz said fiddling with his recovered high-grade, "is that nobody will tell me just what's wrong with 'im!"
Jazz peered down at the kaleidoscope of colors that had been churned up in his cube before abruptly turning the full force of his concentration toward the engineer.
Jazz looked at the science officer with a hopeful expression. "Can you tell me Jack? Do you know?"
Wheeljack gazed sorrowfully at his superior for a moment before shaking his head.
"You'll have to ask Prowl I'm afraid. It's not for me to say."
"Jack!" Jazz finally snapped at him, completely incensed at the run around that all of the bots on the base were giving him when it came to the tactician.
But Wheeljack had looked away from him and was intently examining the floor.
And that was enough for Jazz. His patience, thin enough after orns of the entire base playing dodge with him, evaporated completely.
Coming to a decision he stood up from his seat with enough force that he knocked the chair back, causing the engineer to jump slightly as the noise of it hitting the floor echoed around the empty room.
Turning his back to the engineer Jazz threw his cube of high-grade at the wall (hearing it shatter into a gratifying number of pieces) before walking (stomping) over to the doors.
"Jazz! Trailbreaker…!" Wheeljack started calling out to him, and Jazz ignored it completely as the doors closed behind him with a very satisfying snap, cutting the engineer off in mid-sentence.
-TRANSFORMERS_TRANSFORMERS_TRANSFORMERS_TRANSFORME RS_TRANSFORMERS_TRANSFORMERS-
He had had enough of this. His boundless, endless patience had finally run its course and had left nothing but a cold fury in its place.
Walking down the corridors of the base with heavy footsteps, gritting his dental plates together and growling at any mech he happened to run across, Jazz marched purposefully towards the Command Center, angrier than he could remember being before.
He normally didn't do anger. Usually situations that got him angry were resolved long before he got halfway to this point.
Bad Things Happened! when he got this angry (just ask any of the mechs in his unit).
But this had gone on long enough. He was going to get some answers out of Prowl even if he had to lock the slagging tactician in a supply closet and point a gun at his spark chamber until Prowl finally told him what he wanted to know.
Jazz's anger carried him through three levels of the base and right up to the doors of the Command Center before his processor started to clear and rational thinking came back online.
The vivid mental image of twenty different Autobots pointing guns at him before he got unceremoniously tossed aft first into the brig (which would be what would happen if he pulled a stunt like that on Prowl) stopped Jazz mid stride and prevented him from entering the operations room.
Mentally reviewing his thoughts and actions over the last five breems Jazz groaned.
Much as he'd like to, he couldn't just go in there and threaten Prowl until the SIC talked to him.
For one thing, it would mean the end of his freedom for a long, long time.
For another thing it was Prowl. And no matter how mad or frustrated he was with the tactician threatening him was unacceptable (under any circumstances).
Doing an about face, Jazz forced himself to walk the other way, back towards his quarters while his emotions settled themselves.
If he was going to get to the bottom of this, he had to do it right.
Which meant dealing with Trailbreaker (and he was NOT looking forward to that. At all), and then moving on to dealing Prowl and whatever was wrong with him these orns.
Because he would get to the bottom of what was wrong with Prowl. Even if it meant bothering every mech stationed on the base, and stalking Prowl every klick of every joor until he finally had his answer.
And then he would get Prowl.
Jazz chuckled darkly. Yes, Prowl would most definitely be his.
With a renewed sense of purpose, Jazz walked briskly towards the lower levels of the base.
*Edited for content, grammar and spelling on July 3, 2013*-Reposted on November 6, 2013*