The fog of war influenced each of the Autobots differently, but none were immune to its creeping, devastating force. After eons of looking over one's shoulder, wondering if the next battle would be one's last, watching friends and fellow soldiers falling all around you, that fog closed in and could become overwhelming. As the leaders of Prime's forces, it was Prowl and Jazz who helped ensure the crew was of sound body and processor. Each had his own way of helping, and between the two of them everybot stayed as sane as could be expected.
Jazz acted as the unofficial morale officer, always flashing a contagious grin and playing his music extra loud to help lift the sparks of those near him. He always had time for a bot that just needed to talk or vent over a cube of high grade. He also helped the Twins and their pranks from time to time, much to the amusement and chagrin of Prime, Prowl, and most of all, Ratchet. He always faced each away mission with bravado and humor, downplaying its serious nature and promising everyone he would be back before they even started to miss him. But truth be told, the whole Ark held their collective breath until Jazz returned safe and sound.
Prowl, quite to the contrary, acted as the calm in the midst of the storm. He was a strong, unflappable presence in spite of whatever the Cons threw their way. The other bots implicitly trusted Prowl and his battle plans. They knew he tried his hardest to ensure they would all return to the safety of the base, and he never left a soldier behind. He also provided the rules and structure needed to keep everything running smoothly in the downtime. Bots could just as easily go stir crazy just lazing around the base. So he oversaw the mundane tasks, including the discipline of the twins when he caught them playing pranks. But what they didn't know was he always knew what they were up to in advance, but let them have their fun as a way to blow off steam.
And occasionally, both Prowl and Jazz would join forces in a more direct way when a fellow bot needed their combined comfort and strength. Many nights they would sit with a bot like Bluestreak, plagued with nightmares from the latest battle, unable to recharge. They would just sit with him, holding him between their frames and speaking to him in soft, encouraging tones until he finally drifted off. Then Prowl would flash Jazz one of his rare smiles, and Jazz would return it in kind.
And in the end, Prowl and Jazz kept each other alive. Prowl relished the vibrancy of Jazz's spark, and Jazz anchored in Prowl's strength. And together they were an unstoppable force in driving back whatever the war tried to throw at them.