Disclaimer: the characters aren't mine, I'm just playing with them.
Author's notes: Wow, two posts in two days, haven't done that in a while, but to be fair I've had these written for a while so don't get used too it, to be honest this should have gone up yesterday with the other one, but I got distracted by something else and didn't get around to it.
This is the bit that I wanted to put up on Lj, but couldn't, and no one has seen it before so it may well contain the odd mistake.
I'm not going to mark this as complete because I have no idea whether it is or not, it may well get added to, but that is entirely in the hands of my muses, and we all know how fickle they can be.
Lastly I have to say a HUGE thank you to everyone who reviews my stories, you make my day every time.
Half of Something Whole
There was a time when I thought love was illogical, I didn't want or need it, Primus I barely understood it, but all that changed the cycle I met Jazz. He fascinated me, intoxicated me and confounded me, usually left me struggling to remember my own name, and gave me the life I have now.
The truth of it is that I'm not much of a mech without him; I'm programmed to be efficient, cautious and meticulous in my duties, in other words everything he's not. Jazz can walk into a room of strangers and leave each one with the feeling that they've just made a new friend, he can talk to anyone from the youngest of sparklings to the oldest of mechs, humans or emissaries from other planets, where as I struggle at social gatherings and keep a professional distance from almost everyone I meet.
If there is one thing that I truly admire about the mech that is currently leaning lazily on a wall a few feet from me it is his adaptability, a lot of us struggled to understand our new planet and it's inhabitants, but not Jazz, he found a home here, Earth suits him and, if I'm not mistaken, it saved him too.
Like most Autobots Jazz wasn't created to be a warrior, that's something he's learned and something he hates. Back on Cybertron he was finding it hard to reconcile himself with what he had become, I feared for him, worried that he would take a pace too far and lose his way, but from the moment we woke up on Earth he seemed refreshed, maybe it was the four million years we spent in stasis, but I believe that it was because he had found his place in the universe.
It took me a long time to understand why he took up arms in the first place, why he didn't let others fight the war for him, but I understand now that he couldn't, standing aside just doesn't enter into his processor, Jazz doesn't back down or quit.
"I did once, but luckily the mech I bonded didn't give up on me, " his thoughts bursts through the bond, and I realise that he is paying more attention to me than I thought he was, "What's brought this on?"
"I'd rather think about you than what we're about to do," I admit.
He smiles at me and the warmth of his expression is reflected in our bond, he knows that this sort of thing is much more his cup of tea than mine.
"Wow an Earth expression," his thoughts break into mine again laced with a flicker of amusement, "either I'm rubbing off on you or the universe is about to end,"
"At the moment I would prefer the latter," I reply dryly, and his smile breaks into a grin.
I'd feel better about this whole assignment if I wasn't almost certain that it wasn't a punishment of sorts, the Decepticons have been quiet lately and that's led to a series of pranks at the Ark, now Optimus is a fair mech and he understands that his crew need to amuse themselves, but when a Bobcat was discovered in the command centre Red Alert called for retribution.
"Would you believe me if I told you that it followed Steeljaw home?" Jazz asks.
"Not for a moment," I respond curtly, but I can't keep my affection for him out of the bond, if I could Jazz probably wouldn't get involved with half of the stunts he does, "And neither did Prime, which is why you and I are here, the twins are cleaning the med-bay and Hound is on monitor duty with Bluestreak."
A wave of sympathy flows into the bond, but I'm not quite sure who it's for, the twins are undoubtedly at the mercy of Ratchets somewhat unstable temperament, Hound is probably getting his audios talked off, anything that requires Bluestreak to sit still is bordering on torture, and I'm stuck here because I failed to come up with any solid proof of who was involved, and despite Infernos best efforts our overly efficient security director refused to believe that I was innocent.
It takes a moment for me to realise that Jazz is almost doubled over in silent laughter, "You? Innocent?" he manages to communicate through the bond, "I must have gone to the wrong quarters last night 'cause there's no way on this earth that the mech I shared a berth with could pass for innocent,"
"Jazz, please, we have to be quiet,"
"That ain't what you said last night," he teases me, "it's a good job I suggested getting our quarters sound proofed,"
His mirth is infectious, both the look on his faceplates and the brief flashes of memory that flow through the bond make me want to laugh too, but our silence is necessary at this point, I struggle to remain composed and feel him using my self-control to calm himself.
In the few minutes that we've been waiting my humour has greatly improved, and I'm ready to do my duty. This is why I need Jazz, he stops me getting caught up in the little things and shows me the whole, glorious picture.
"Show time," he announces and the curtain before us parts.
"Boys and girls, it is my great pleasure to welcome the Autobots Prowl and Jazz to our assembly, let's give them a big Portland Infant School welcome."
The room seems to erupt into chaos. High-pitched, juvenile cries of glee assault my audios and I almost back-up, but Jazz' voice stops me, "Show no fear," he instructs casually, "and no harm will come to you," he adds before he hops off the small stage and moves with that innate grace of his to sit among the children, they swarm around him and barrage him with questions about his life and his fellow Autobots, but it doesn't phase him at all.
He is in his element, he's the centre of attention and putting on a show, and happy. I move tentatively to follow him, I couldn't do this if he wasn't with me, but he is and my beautiful Jazz will guide me.
"Anyone would think you were enjoying yourself," he sends to me after a few minutes.
"I am," I admit, "I'm thinking of ways to get revenge on Prime," it's only half the truth, the children are playing their part too but I'm not about to say that.
"It's already in hand my mech," Jazz informs me with a flash of that dazzling grin of his, "He and Red aren't going to know what or who hit them."
I believe him, Jazz can be as sneaky as anybot when he wants to be and I smile back at him before his attention returns to his audience.
I watch him as he talks and plays with the small humans, I see the confident, carefree mech that I fell in love with all those vorns ago, as well as the commander he has become since then, and I know that although logic cannot explain love I wouldn't be without it.
"Love you too Prowl,"