Sorcelling - taking on any form you can scan/have specs for. From Story of a Lifetime (taralynden dot /tag/tf%3Alifetime) by taralynden on LJ.

Yet another chapter with graphic smut. Read on Ao3
archiveofourown dot org/works/637909/chapters/1254006

Starcrossed 11: Making a Run for It
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Prowl sent a silent prayer of thanks to Primus that Vortex was as unobservant and uncaring as he was. For metacycles now he'd had enough energon in his systems the majority of the time to think and access his seneschal upgrades. Which meant for metacycles now he, and not Vortex, had been in control of the estate's networked systems. There were now funds and supplies stashed in a thousand locations all over Cybertron, including several larger credit deposits that would fund the repairs and rebuilds required to become invisible to the hunters Vortex would send out. With two newsparks to support, it would be tight until Prowl could devote time to investing and see the returns, but it would be enough.

It had to be.

It had taken a miracle to keep Jazz calm enough to last the eight orns until Vortex's scheduled departure. Several times Prowl had almost failed.

Now would come the difficult part. His plan was about to meet the real world and one very unstable mech that was close to a split personality profile disorder. That construct would have to be removed, and quickly.

For right now though, he had to keep the quivering, stressed out carrier that had just attached itself to him calm until Vortex was well enough away. Jazz was holding his shoulders and pressing their helms together, fingers digging almost painfully into the thin armor. Vortex had roused him early, long before his scheduled departure, taken him long and slow while Jazz-Jazz's construct-keened and praised the rotor, joyfully begging for his transfluid to fill him, to strengthen the newsparks. When it had finally ended, Vortex leaving Jazz to refuel on his own while he prepared to leave, the primary profile had taken control, to noticeably increased tension and pacing that even Vortex had commented on.

And now all that nervous tension was pummeling him through the hardline.

~He's off the estate, why are we waiting?~ Jazz pleaded.

~Our chances of success greatly improve when it is dark,~ Prowl explained patiently. ~I can cover a great deal, but I can not hide us once we are outside.~

Jazz squirmed anxiously. He'd heard this before, he knew it by spark, and everything in him still wanted to bolt. ~I'll have to change the loop, every couple joors. Help me remember. I'm not sure...how well I'll focus.~

~I will not let you forget,~ Prowl promised. ~We have not come so far, endured so much, just to get caught by a loop running too long. Unbind me?~

Jazz started. He hadn't even thought to release the bindings, and quickly reached around to do so before pulling an energon cube that he'd tucked away earlier and offering it. ~What can I do?~ he asked. ~Is there anything I can help with?~

~Help me oil and stretch,~ Prowl said as he accepted the cube. ~My articulation points are not well-lubricated.~

Jazz unplugged to go retrieve the oil after helping Prowl stand up, glad to have something productive to do instead of having to simply wait the entire time. He waited until Prowl had finished drinking before stepping in and carefully tipping the bottle over each joint as Prowl indicated them and helping him move to get the oil more worked in. "Stop me if it hurts," he murmured.

Prowl nodded, his field speaking for him as they were no longer hardlined. Small sounds of pleasure, relief and occasionally strain came from him, but never a complaint. He wanted to move. Was grateful to move.

Time to change the vid, he pinged Jazz about halfway through the oiling, who nodded and helped him back into the restraints, where he sat motionless as Jazz stretched out of the seeming recharge, drew a cube for himself, added the extra supplements, and drank it slowly on the berth. When he was done, he lay back down, and as soon as the loop was playing again with the new position he finished helping Prowl oil the underused joints.

"Lay down with me?" Jazz asked softly when Prowl indicated he could stop, tugging his hand.

Warmth infused Prowl's field as he followed, more than happy to lie down and hold his love while they waited out the nerve-wracking joors until it was optimal to escape. He consumed five more cubes of energon and Jazz two before it was dusk.

~It is time,~ Prowl nudged Jazz over the hardline. ~One more loop, showing you going to recharge for the night and we go.~

Jazz lifted his head and nodded. It felt like almost no time at all before he had finished going through his nightly motions and was laying down and powering off his optics. He held there for a klik, motionless, before setting the loop and sitting upright.

He had Prowl out of his restraints in moments and was clinging to him again, not hiding the sharp spikes of nervous energy that came out in his field.

~We are ready. It is planned. There will be no turning back once you unlock the door,~ Prowl said gently, offering the mech he loved one final chance to back out. This was a cage, but it was a gilded one. Prowl knew he could offer nothing of the kind. Not for a very long time at least. Not in time to help their creations.

~I'd rather be in the gutters with you than be here with him,~ Jazz said, easily understanding what Prowl was offering and the sacrifice he would make if that was Jazz's choice. His hand came up over his spark and the two small lifeforces he could feel there. He cycled his vents once, twice, and focused in on the resolve and strength he had survived this long with, feeling his field smooth out with the next x-vent. ~Even without you, I wouldn't stay here. Not when he plans to hurt one of them.~

Prowl nodded, understanding the choice on several levels. He'd been raised to walk away from his creations shortly after they separated, to watch others raise them and not treat them differently than any other youth, but it did nothing to calm the carrier protocols he suffered with each time. Jazz had not even had that much of an advantage in the choice. If it wasn't for how long they'd planned this, Prowl would doubt it was the right choice. As it stood, he was relieved.

~Then unlock the door and let's go.~

Jazz unplugged from Prowl and took one more moment to look back over the chambers he had spent most of his bonded life in, then nodded once, turned, and hooked into the door's systems. Half a klik later, the mag-locks disengaged with a soft click and Jazz straightened, tucking the cable back in as the door opened. He stared out into the empty hallway, then looked at Prowl. "Ready?"

The Praxian nodded, his focus more inward than outward as he manipulated cameras, recorders, locks and messaging all over the estate to clear their path and hide trace of it. Simultaneously, lights, locks, dispensers, and any other machinery that he could affect began to malfunction, drawing any and all attention away from their route. Along the way there were energon cubes, small credit sticks and other useful odds and ends left conveniently for them to pick up.

It was eerie, Jazz decided, walking through lifeless halls that he had never seen empty before. He tucked the items into subspace as he went, keeping an optic on Vortex's private surveillance while Prowl watched the estate systems. He hadn't seen movement on their path yet, and wondered how long Prowl had been planning to make sure every mecha was otherwise engaged right at this moment. He decided that when-when, not if-they were free and safe, he was going to have to ask the Praxian how he had managed all of this.

He picked something up and looked at it for a moment before realizing it was a stack of condensed mineral supplements that he would need as the newsparks started to develop frames. He subspaced it, glanced at Prowl, and flared his field in quiet gratitude.

Planning is what I do. Prowl responded with appreciation and amusement in the glyphs.

It wasn't long before they were in the garden and Prowl's tension spiked. Out here in the open it was much more difficult to ensure no one saw them. He could keep hallways clear, he couldn't keep mecha from looking out windows. He was relying on the internal chaos to distract them, and that was no guarantee.

Jazz shivered as they started forward, his own tension rising in response, and getting higher the further they were from the estate. He pushed back against it as nerves, fear of discovery, and not being able to see clearly around every path.

Then they turned a corner that gave them a clear view of the outer wall, and when Prowl moved forward, he didn't. In the next moment, he felt himself taking one backwards, one he didn't want to take, and a panic that had nothing to do with escape, the newsparks, or Prowl rose up in him and he froze, trembling while he fought to move forward.

Jazz? Prowl texted as soon as he noticed the absence of his shadow.

He turned, looked and moved. Jazz's comms were disabled in a sparkbeat, the hardline forced into place and outer firewalls hacked. ~Jazz, you cannot allow the construct to win.~

The voice that answered him was Jazz, but not as Prowl had ever heard him in here before. ~You're trying to take me from my bonded!~ it hissed, full of disgust and hatred. ~I should have let him kill you for his pleasure! Thief! Thief! I'll kill you, I'll call him, let go of me!~

Jazz's frame was frozen in Prowl's grip and Prowl could feel two halves warring, one that was trying to lash out at him and the other that was rapidly losing ground as it tried to resist while simultaneously protecting the blocks on the sparkbond, forcing everything it could spare into keep it closed, but losing the physical advantage at the same time. The frame growled angrily and stumbled forward, then froze again as the attention lurched over to stop the command to attack Prowl.

It was all Prowl needed to see. He focused his full attention, all the advanced processors that he'd been upgraded with and created with, and began to systematically disassemble the profile that was fighting him. It was so very close to murder, but that didn't even cause a moment of hesitation. Jazz had killed a carrier and many others to get them this far. Prowl would kill the profile he had helped create.

The frame gave a hard shudder as the profile realized what he was doing and started to fight back, but Jazz also saw what was happening and shifted his attention, pulling as much processor power away and back as he could while the profile was distracted.

With that strength gone, strength that wouldn't have been enough to fight against Prowl in the first place, it took the Praxian just moments to tear through the rest of the programming. Jazz wrenched free and the frame sank forward, shaking.

~It's okay, beloved,~ Prowl soothed him, trying to make what he'd just done a little less traumatizing on the young mech than he knew it had to be. ~I will clean up the remains when we are safe. We need to move now.~

Jazz nodded and focused on Prowl's voice, forced his limbs to respond again, and ran with him, ducking through the garden with a silence he had learned while meditating and observing his systems for the quietest operating parameters.

Twice they halted, waiting while guards ran by, before moving forward and when they reached the front gates, it hardly seemed real when they simply unlocked and swung aside.

There was a visible shudder as they walked out of their prison and living nightmare of more than a vorn. Prowl felt himself starting to crack, the beginnings of the breakdown from relief he knew would come. It couldn't be now though. He put his hand on Jazz's shoulder to turn the young mech, no longer a noble by law, and kissed him with all the passion he felt, everything that had kept him functioning and reasonably sane. At the same time, he brought his cable up to Jazz's chest and plugged into the already-open dataport.

~We need to split up and rejoin much farther from the estate. If someone notices our absence, a pair will be more conspicuous. You can drive. I must walk. You remember how to check into the hotel?~

Jazz pressed back into the kiss as soon as Prowl started to move away. ~Look for an unlit door, there will be a way to pay outside and it will unlock. I remember. Please be careful.~

~I will be,~ Prowl promised. ~I fit in there better than you do. Try not to be seen. I will join you as soon as I can.~ With a final quick kiss they unplugged.

Jazz looked at Prowl for another moment before he transformed into his simple alt. form that had seen almost no use since his adult upgrades. One supervised drive on a well-lit road during the daylight, and now he was heading through a city he'd never been in on dark roads that were not designed for tourists the way Central City's were.

See you soon. he texted with a glance at Prowl one more time, then kicked his engines to life and set off.

Vortex lived in the richest area of Kaon, so the streets surrounding the estate were wide, smooth, and well-lit, which gave Jazz the time he needed to get used to the feeling of the alt form and the sensors he needed to use to navigate. He was just starting to feel comfortable with the rarely-used form when the roads started to narrow and the lights came less frequently, and more than once, he passed another vehicle heading in a different direction, or drove past a larger frame walking by. A glance at his guidance system showed that he seemed to be heading towards the outskirts of the industry area of the city, and while Prowl had designed a route to go through the least populated areas possible, he still needed to get through the residential district first.

At one point, he saw a frame that looked enough like Brawl's that he quickly killed his engines and coasted into a shadow, powering everything down until the mech was out of sight. His white armor-something he had once been so proud of, and kept shining and clean-felt like it was glowing in the dark, reflecting every single light, making him stand out in the dark city.

After waiting two kliks, he restarted his engines and started again. The guidance system told him he was about halfway there and he didn't see anyone else as he passed from the residential area into an industry quarter, and finally reached the hotel.

It was low and long, with lit and unlit doors spaced equidistant across the front. Jazz glanced at his sensors, saw no signs of other mecha, and transformed again, stepping forward. Something rustled to his side and he jumped away, seeing a small creature moving in the shadows. He settled his spark and looked around, seeing a dark, unlit horizon past the hotel that he was instinctively wary of.

Shaking the feeling off, he went to a door that was bordered on either side by other unoccupied rooms and looked at the panel on the front. There was a single slot, large enough for a credit stick, and a credit-per-joor price. Jazz pulled the credit sticks he'd been carrying, slid enough in for a dozen joors, and heard the door unlock.

Three rooms down, a door opened and Jazz found himself staring as a mech stumbled out, obviously over-energized, and glanced his way. Jazz tensed, the mech looked him up and down, and then continued on his way. Jazz ducked into the room and closed the door behind him, leaning back against it with a heavy x-vent. He texted Prowl the number and walked forward to crawl on the berth and wait in awful silence.

It was torture, even with his efforts to meditate. He reluctantly stirred at one point to drink half a cube of supplement-richened energon. He had no idea how long it would take to walk here. Even knowing it was coming, the knock and low bark made him jump.

He very nearly tripped over himself in his scramble to the door. It didn't open immediately to him and he stared at it for a moment, confused, before realizing he had to press a trigger to the side. It slid away to reveal Prowl-Prowl-and Jazz grabbed his hand and stepped backwards, pulling him in. The larger mech gave no resistance, only pulling Jazz against him for a relieved kiss once the door slid shut behind him.

Fingers gliding against Jazz's dataport, urgent in the request to hardline. Jazz opened immediately, shivering at the touch and dropping his firewalls before Prowl had even plugged in. The first rush of exchange protocols was a relief to them both, a trembling need to reconnect as they both calmed into the success of the first step in their escape.

~Are you ready to be rebuilt?~ Prowl asked gently.

Jazz nodded. He had stopped caring about his frame a long time ago. Every time he looked at himself, he saw Flatline's repairs, and nothing would ever look like his original adult frame, the one that had been designed to be beautiful and optic-catching in every way, the one that had made Prowl's optics brighten and his doorwings lift in a rare physical expression of interest. He missed that, he would never miss this. He sent as much of that wordlessly to Prowl as he could.

A gentle kiss was Prowl's reply, the connection full of understanding after his own vorn of being mangled again and again.

~Then come. It will be good to speak and comm again,~ Prowl couldn't hide his anticipation of that. It was easy to forget how integral both were until they were lost.

Jazz looked past him at the doorway, readying himself as much as he could to go back outside, no matter how much he irrationally wanted to curl up in this room and possibly never leave. His fingers settled on Prowl's neck, over the vocalizer. ~Yes, it will,~ he agreed. ~I have missed your voice,~ he added with a smile.

He pulled up the location of the workshop Prowl had given him, double checked it once with the Praxian, then disengaged the connection as Prowl unplugged and they started off.

Having Prowl there next to him made Jazz feel immediately better as they walked, as illogical as he realized that was. He was by far the stronger of the two at the moment, but Prowl's battered appearance made him feel less out of place in the darkened streets as they passed by small alleys that he tried not to look down too closely.

When they reached their destination-it looked less like a workshop and more like an abandoned building-Jazz looked at their reflections in the glossy black window reflection, shook his head, and followed Prowl in. They were greeted by a small mech, a minibot by height but not the stocky build most sported. This one was built more like Jazz, but half the height, and Prowl was relaxed around him.

"Ah, hello, it's good you made it," the small mech grinned brightly, his field full of warmth. "Jazz, I'm Mucit. My apprentice is Wheeljack." He motioned to a quiet, mostly white mech with green and red markings and lit up helmfins. "If you have the payment?" he looked to Prowl, who produced three credit sticks.

Mucit took them, gave a quick scan and nodded his satisfaction. "Who's first?"

Jazz looked at Prowl. "You go," he said. For all that Prowl was holding himself steady, there was no way his underused, mishandled frame could be anything other than massively painful after so much movement. He looked back at the smaller mech. "How long?"

"It depends on how much repair work is needed," Mucit gave Prowl a good walk-around. "Less than the orn, with any kind of luck. Yours will go much quicker, since you're in good general repair."

Jazz nodded. He wanted to be awake and alert when Vortex realized what had happened; he wasn't sure if being in medical stasis would affect the blocks he was holding over the sparkbond, and Vortex would definitely realize before an orn was up, probably only a quarter of that, at this point, since it would be not long after dawn when Quickturn came to rouse him for his morning supplements. "Can I watch?" he asked, not sure if he would be able to sit that long with nothing to do but worry.

Prowl nodded, so Mucit did too and waved them all to follow to the back. The door closed behind them and energy shimmered through it, but Jazz's focus was on the room he was in. Simple, no windows, a single average-sized medical berth and a double-wide berth. That's what Jazz understood. The tools and devices were beyond him, but he still watched as Prowl compliantly lay down on the medical berth and shut down before being put into medical stasis.

"Why don't you settle on the berth?" Wheeljack motioned to the one for recharge. His helm fins flashed various colors in time to his speech. "You can watch, or nap. It's not that exciting if you aren't into this stuff."

Jazz nodded and slid up onto it, resting back with his knees tucked up to his chest while the other two turned their attention towards Prowl. He flinched at the first touch, still half-expecting this to all have been one massive stress-induced glitch, waiting for Flatline with his saws and torches and syringes to appear. The sharp movement caught the larger one's attention and he lifted his head for a moment while the fins glowed soft and white, making Jazz think of a smile.

He settled in a little better after that, watching quietly as the rebuild began with opening up the masses of cables that comprised most of Prowl's neck to find his vocalizer. The pair was obviously distressed by what they were seeing, but didn't say anything until they had the cables cleaned out and everything put back together. There was a moment of relaxation and Prowl began to boot up.

"Wanted to get the vocalizer fixed first so you two could talk for a bit before he really goes under," Mucit explained. "I understand you haven't heard his voice in over a vorn now."

Jazz shook his head. "Can I...?" he asked, gesturing, and when Mucit nodded he jumped off the berth and moved near Prowl's head, carefully touching his helm, intensely aware of the other two watching. He'd spent so long knowing that touching Prowl like this had to be completely hidden at the risk of both their sparks, it was hard to relax until ice blue optics flickered on and no one moved to pull him away. "Prowl?" he asked softly.

"Jazz," the new vocalizer was scratchy and spit static as it booted up, but the designation was clear. It would be a deeper tenor than before, nearly a baritone, but it was still Prowl's.

Jazz almost sobbed, and he did give a startled laugh of relief. "Missed your voice," he said, and touched their helms together. Prowl's hand came up to cup his neck, both of them relishing the closeness.

"I never realized how much I used it until it was gone," Prowl admitted quietly. "Do you like it?"

Jazz hummed into the touch. "It's you, wouldn't matter what it sounded like." He lifted his other hand to cover Prowl's. "But I do like it, very much."

"Good," Prowl sagged in relief, pleasure humming through him. "Must as I'd enjoy holding you forever, the sooner we're rebuilt, the safer we'll be."

Jazz sighed in agreement, nuzzled him again, and regretfully stood up and away. "I'll wait right here," he promised, slipping back onto the berth. Prowl nodded, lay back down and was put in medical stasis once more. Time stretched on and the cheap plating was removed and tossed aside until nothing was left of Flatline's work. Jazz could finally, really start to believe they'd gotten away.

At some point while they were still stripping out unsalvageable parts Jazz felt something hard and furious pounding at the block on the bond. At the same time, something stirred in his processor, weak but determined, seeking out the bond.

The coding remains of the mostly-destroyed construct, still lurking, struggling up in response to its bonded. Jazz pushed it down, repulsed, and flinched, hard, drawing the attention of both mecha who were standing over Prowl. Mucit had crossed around to the same side as Wheeljack to peer down at something that his apprentice had pointed to, and now they were both looking at him.

"All right?" Mucit asked.

"Yeah," Jazz muttered, focusing inward and carefully checking the block. It was holding, and even though the rage on the other side was strong enough for the emotion to seep through, nothing else did, most importantly the awareness on the other end that was trying as hard as it could to find him. Jazz pushed back against it, and the rage was muffled slightly. He looked back at the other two, who were still watching him, and squirmed under the unwavering gazes.

"Oh, don't mind us," Mucit said, smiling warmly. "I'm just making sure we don't need to disappear in a hurry if anyone comes looking for you."

Jazz straightened. "How much do you know?"

"Enough," Mucit said, his tone serious despite his easy, relaxed look. "Some fact, some rumor, and plenty that has been pieced together between the two."

"You'd leave him like this?" Jazz asked, scowling, gesturing at Prowl.

"Kiddo, no amount of credits could compel me to stay here if what's chasing you finds this place. Prowl understood that."

Jazz shifted uncomfortably and settled. "If you know that much, what's to stop you from telling him what we look like? He'd pay you enough."

Mucit gave him a stern look. "I may have a colorful reputation, but I'm no leak." He chuckled suddenly. "Besides, your friend paid more than enough for silence, on top of everything else you're getting."

Jazz thought about that for a moment. "How can we know that?"

"I suppose I can't blame you for being mistrusting," Mucit hummed as he reached in and corrected something Wheeljack was doing. "But I promise you, not only is Prowl paying plenty, but he has plenty of friends I wouldn't risk angering. I don't exactly have an estate with my own private guard, you see."

A particularly hard slam against the bond made Jazz wince again. "Yeah," he said, trying to look relaxed. "I'll tell you if you need to run."

"I do appreciate it," Mucit said, picking out something that looked like it might have once been a gear but was rusted so badly it was crumbling in his fingers. He shook his head. "Primus what a mess. I might have been wrong, this could take more than an orn. I'd get comfortable if I were you."

SxSxSxSxSxSxSxSx S===================S SxSxSxSxSxSxSxS

Jazz booted with the odd feeling of not remembering having gone into recharge. The work on Prowl's frame had started to seem close to finished, and he wanted to be alert as soon as Prowl was. A slight frown twitched over his face. The last thing he remembered was Wheeljack's voice gently telling him that carriers should recharge whenever they felt the need.

Mucit had indeed been incorrect about Prowl's repairs taking less than an orn, and even about them taking more than one orn. Jazz checked his chronometer and calculated that they were past the three orn mark. This was his sixth recharge, and the two medics-if they were medics, he wasn't sure-had each recharged twice, staggering the breaks so at least one of them could be working at all times.

Jazz had heard muttered cursing, but beyond that, they'd communicated by comms. He onlined his optics and focused on the table.

Wheeljack's frame was blocking most of his view, but what little he could see looked complete, though the bare metal was still colorless. He sat up, automatically pulling a cube out when his carrier systems pinged him to refuel. He winced halfway through the first swallow, choking slightly, as Vortex slammed against the block.

"You know there are hardware fixes for that," Mucit murmured, and Jazz realized the smaller mech had stepped down off the lift he used and was examining the underside of Prowl's pedes.

"For what?" Jazz asked, shoring his strength back up against both the bond and the construct that was trying to link back into the rest of his processor, one creeping line of code at a time.

Mucit glanced at him. "A piece that can disrupt the connection of a sparkbond."

"I know," Jazz said, a little defensive. "I read about them."

Mucit chuckled softly. "I'm sure you did," he said. "Then you'll know they must be custom designed, and there are precious few mecha capable of building one."

That made Jazz hesitate. "I know they need to be custom built," he said.

The minibot hummed. "If that's all you knew, then you probably don't know what they cost, either."

"...No."

"A permanent one is as much as you're paying for all of this," Mucit said, gesturing around. "A temporary one, designed to last anywhere from a few joors to a few orns, is less. They're absolutely illegal without at least two medics' signatures, or a military order."

Jazz thought about that for a moment. "What are we paying for all of this?" he finally asked.

"Kiddo, if you need to ask, you don't need to know," Mucit said, straightening. "I think that does it," he said to Wheeljack.

Wheeljack turned around, fins glowing. "There," he said, a smile in his voice. "You recharged and you got to be online when he booted."

That focused all of Jazz's attention on Prowl as the mech booted up, though he couldn't hear anything over the operating sounds of the room and mecha. When Prowl's optics lit, they were the familiar ice blue and immediately sought Jazz out.

Jazz set the cube aside and jumped down. Wheeljack stepped aside for him and Jazz went immediately to stand next to Prowl's head, looking at the newly-built but still very simple helm for a moment before shifting his gaze back to his optics. "I'm glad he never broke these," he said, brushing a finger next to the closer one.

"So am I," Prowl smiled slightly and reached up to lay his hand over Jazz's. "How is the block holding up?"

Jazz's smile faded. "It's fine," he said, deciding to mention the construct later when they were alone. It was weak, he could hold it until then. "I can feel him trying to break it, hasn't really stopped, but it's holding."

"He's recharged enough too," Wheeljack added from the background. "He's being a good carrier."

Prowl's smiled warmed and his hand slid down to cover Jazz's spark. "I know. His coding is strong for it," he purred with absolute approval. Reluctantly he tore his gaze from his beloved and focused on Mucit. "I am receiving no errors, only notices of replacement parts. Did the installation go well?"

"Other than the part where it took three slagging orns to rebuild you to the point it was going to be useful, it went smoothly. Your original construction and protoform, what's left of it, is strong." The minibot huffed. "I was going to show you how to operate it now, but given the amount of repairs we did, I think it's best to let them settle and ensure things integrate in this form before you try another."

Prowl inclined his helm and moved, carefully and slowly, to sit up. "Your work matches your reputation," he said, making the little inventor and his apprentice beam. "Please ensure I am awake when you bring Jazz out of stasis."

"Of course," Wheeljack's helm fins flashed brightly in a warm blue. "Until then, you need the recharge and energon as much as your mate right now."

Jazz hummed at Wheeljack's choice of words as he ran his hands over the rebuilt frame. His field played along Prowl's, which felt strange in a way he couldn't place, and he frowned slightly. It felt lighter, like it was missing something he was used to being there. "Your field," he murmured, drawing Prowl's attention. "It's..." His optics brightened suddenly.

It was missing pain. Something that had been present and underlying for so long Jazz had forgotten how it could feel without. "Primus," he whispered, hand going over his mouth. "I didn't realize..."

"It is amazing what one can become accustomed to," Prowl smiled weakly before drawing him in for a gentle, chaste kiss. "Adaptation is the hallmark of out race. You and I are no different. The rebuild might feel different from all the extra armor. I requested military grade heavy armor and subsystems."

"Including weapon mounts, though he's currently unarmed," Mucit added, watching the pair with indulgently warm optics. "You're getting similar, though it'll be more of a difference. Your systems are much lighter than his, though your protoforms are of similar size."

Jazz nodded, pressed as close to Prowl as he could get while he continued his exploration of the new armor. His hand went around to Prowl's shoulders and down his back. "What about his wings?" he asked, without turning his head away.

"He still has the protoform and subsystems to handle them, but he'll only wear them when he chooses," Mucit said easily.

"It is part of why this rebuild cost so much. We're getting shape-shifting capabilities," Prowl purred. "Like new alt mode scanning, but far more extensive."

Jazz purred in response, more from hearing the sound coming from Prowl's frame and feeling the true enjoyment and relief in his field. "That can't be simple," he said, nuzzling. He could feel himself finally starting to relax, despite the presence of the other two, and he brought his hands back up around Prowl's neck.

"It's not," Wheeljack grinned, about to go into detail when something struck the block on Jazz's bond, sharp and focused, and Jazz hissed softly, immediately tensing back up.

"He'll give up eventually," Prowl murmured with a soft kiss, then glanced at Mucit. "You are sure it's safe to put him in stasis?"

"It should be," the minibot nodded. "It's not like there's a choice, if we're going to upgrade him."

"Eventually could be vorns," Jazz said, shuddering and wincing as the strike came again, and then faded back to the dull, simmering rage. "So I guess the sooner we do this..."

"The safer we'll all be," Mucit finished for him. "Are you ready?"

Jazz nodded, nuzzled against Prowl for another moment, then straightened and stepped back enough for Prowl to stand. Jazz turned and strong fingers curled around his waist, helping him up onto the berth and he lay down, one hand over his spark and the other touching Prowl's face. It made him nervous to shut down and allow the two medics full access to his systems and the newsparks, but Prowl trusted them, and he could trust that. "You'll stay here?" he asked.

"Of course," Prowl kissed him gently. "I'll be no further than the berth."

Jazz nodded, then forced himself to let go and lay back, cycling down into a light recharge, and then slipping offline into stasis.

SxSxSxSxSxSxSxSx S===================S SxSxSxSxSxSxSxS

The first thing Jazz became aware of was a hard, throbbing anger striking against the block, one that hadn't diminished in the least. He didn't want to think about how angry Vortex had to be for it to leak through strong enough to be felt when even his overloads had been completely blocked out. He was sure that was why the wrecked construct had started to claw its way back up. It felt like old, lukewarm sludge seeping into his processor. He shuddered, checked the block, and then focused his attention up and out.

A very long list started scrolling up, detailing changes he didn't even understand fully, with the occasional installation notice as something wired itself into his now-online processor. He booted his vision, turning his head to seek Prowl out. The Praxian was smiling down at him from the berthside, his hand reaching out to caress Jazz's face.

"Any errors?" the voice he was quickly learning to love asked.

Jazz heard a snort to his other side and shook his head. He shifted, tried to sit up, and quickly stopped when everything moved wrong. He froze for a moment, then tried again, slower, focusing on the differently moving hydraulics. There was more weight to be moved, but he could tell there was more strength to move it with. The balancing was all different. "None," he said. "Feels weird," he added, focusing for the newsparks, and relaxing when he felt them unchanged.

"You're much larger and heavier," Prowl nodded, his optics roving over the very simple frame that looked a great deal like his own. Heavy, boxy, utilitarian. It was merely mass to work with for the sorcelling device. "You'll be used to it soon. Energon levels?"

The carrier systems pinged at almost the same time and Jazz obediently pulled a cube and drank it slowly, getting a feel for his arms as he lifted the other one to reach out for Prowl.

He subspaced the empty container and swung his legs off the edge of the berth, looking around at Mucit and Wheeljack.

"All right, for now, you just watch and get used to that frame as we get Prowl though his first shift," the minibot said firmly. "The process is very energy intensive, so don't go changing if you don't need to."

"Understood," Prowl inclined his helm.

"Bring up your systems HUD, subsystem environmental adaptation," Mucit instructed. "The bottom item should be sorcelling."

"Got it," Prowl said as he watched his HUD scroll and shift through menus it hadn't contained before.

"From there you can select a preset form, which is anything you've scanned or downloaded and decided to keep. There are four frametypes in there now. You can also scan any mech that will hold still for it."

Jazz carefully stood up, listening while he took a few steps over to the other berth and stood next to Wheeljack, lifting his arms and looking down at them. He flexed his fingers several times, processor automatically recording the new size and increased distance between tip to palm.

"You'll want to watch this," Wheeljack murmured, leaning in, his field quivering with excitement.

Prowl considered his choices before selecting one. There was a shimmer and groan of real pain as Prowl's plating began to rearrange itself in ways it wasn't meant to do. It was much like scanning a new alt mode, but far more extreme. Even Prowl's facial features shifted, and for the first few moments, he was barely recognizable as mech. It might have even looked disturbing, to someone who hadn't watched other mecha's facial plating dripping away.

Another shift, and wide wings took up a fair amount of plating that was leaving the chassis. Prowl's chevron, or where it had been, extended and then grew down the sides of his helm. Limbs lengthened and thrusters formed where his heel-plates had once been. A third thruster, larger than the other two, took up a fair portion of his abdominal region. Only his optics remained unchanged.

Jazz's optics widened at the change. "Wow," he said, stepping forward, staring at the completely unfamiliar aerial frame, which was now colored in dark greens and silvers.

"This is how we're going to avoid detection," Prowl said, sounding exhausted from the shift. He leaned down a bit to kiss Jazz. "So long as the block holds, it will be all but impossible to ID us."

Jazz pressed into the kiss, running his hands over the taller frame. "I won't let him break it," he said, then looked towards the pair of inventors, who were looking at Prowl with matching pleased expressions on their faces. "Can I try, or should I wait?"

"Yes, please try," Mucit said agreeably. "Your frame was in much better repair, you'll be fine without a wait. The sooner you're both in new forms, the sooner we can all get out of the danger zone."

Jazz nodded and stepped back, pulling up the same menu that Prowl had been directed to and skimming over the four pre-loaded options. There was an aerial frame identical to how Prowl now looked, a racer, a standard frame that reminded him uncomfortably of the carrier he'd killed, and an all-terrain type. He braced himself and selected the racer, and almost immediately felt everything pull in a very unpleasant way as his plating stretched and rearranged. It was painful, or would have been, if he didn't know what pain could mean. Compared to being melted down, it was a tickle.

And then it stopped, and he cycled his optics once and looked down at himself, gaze sweeping over the black and red coloration that he now wore, then back up at Prowl.

"It looks good on you," Prowl purred, stepping close to ghost a finger over the slender, backswept chevron Jazz now sported.

Jazz shivered at the touch and leaned into it, a strong wave of relief washing through his field. They were out, they were hidden, they were going to make it. "So does yours," he murmured, and slumped, venting heavily as his systems urgently pinged him for energon. "Primus, that does take a lot," he said, pulling two large cubes.

"That's why we don't want to use it often, but over our lifetimes, it will be much more efficient than constantly getting rebuilt," Prowl smiled and took a cube of energon out of subspace for himself. "Far fewer individuals to leak what we now look like, too."

"You watch how much you're refueling," Mucit said, looking at Prowl. "One of the reasons you took so long was we could barely keep you at fifty percent capacity without sending you into systems shock. Build it slowly."

The Praxian nodded. "We've been building my systems up for metacycles. I'll be careful for a few more. It's still a little strange to think that I managed to exist on less than a mouthful of lowgrade an orn for a vorn."

Wheeljack whistled. "Should be easier with the new systems," he said. "They aren't so slagged as yours were."

"They aren't slagged at all," Mucit said, looking the pair up and down with the gaze of a craftsmech examining his art. "If anything comes up, you know how to contact me, but I don't think you should have any problems."

"Thank you," Jazz said, then looked at Prowl. "Where now?" he asked, a little pleadingly.

"Now we walk out of here, transform and drive as far away as we can before we find a place to rest," Prowl said simply, his focus on giving as few details as possible away. He inclined his helm to Mucit and Wheeljack. "Thank you for your excellent work. Should it ever come up, I will speak well of you both."

"Thanks," Wheeljack's helm fins flashed happily while Mucit simply smiled and watched the couple leave.

SxSxSxSxSxSxSxSx S===================S SxSxSxSxSxSxSxS

::Need to stop soon,:: Jazz commed, shuddering as the construct lurched up, forming weak connections into his processors that he quickly shied away from. It had been growing more insistent, and feeling the half-deconstructed thing trying to struggle up to life-something that was based on his own coding, something that felt like him in so many ways-was making his tanks churn.

It was trying to reach the bond. Forever trying to reach Vortex, whose rage had not quieted. It was more draining than Jazz had expected and this would not be their first stop for him to refuel.

::Can you last another groon?:: Prowl requested. ::We can stop to recharge then. And deal with that thing.::

::Yes,:: Jazz sighed, and as his thoughts started to wander to how exhausted he was, he grabbed them and focused forward, forcing himself to remember the many number of things he had done that had been harder than driving for another groon. In response to his need Prowl dropped down long enough to comfort him with the familiar touch of his field. Jazz felt the support there, the comfort of Prowl's inherent strength, the warmth of systems running without pain and with fuel.

It was a reminder that Prowl had suffered far more than he had and wasn't complaining. Not then and not now. He knew Prowl's fuel level was lower than his. He knew Prowl hadn't had any credible recharge since his first rebuild except for those few joors while Jazz was being rebuilt. Medical stasis while you were being rebuilt just didn't count. It wasn't rest. It didn't help auto-repair or defrag or anything else.

A tiny part of him was waiting for Prowl to have the meltdown and decaorns of recharge he must need by now.

Instead the mech was driving Jazz as hard as the roads allowed and doing his level best not to push him to match the speed of his new airframe.

He flared gratitude, and determination, and pushed his acceleration as high as he dared for the road.

SxSxSxSxSxSxSxSx S===================S SxSxSxSxSxSxSxS

They managed the distance that Prowl had wanted in just under a groon and Prowl flew ahead, guiding Jazz off the road where it was safe, though Jazz was at a loss as to why he had picked this location. The only place nearby seemed to be a small estate. The back side of a small estate.

Prowl landed right as Jazz pulled up, carefully maneuvering the new thrusters until he was safely on the ground. He transformed, and within nanokliks Jazz was against him, pulling him into a deep kiss that was readily and greedily returned.

"We'll have to walk from here, but we'll be safe," Prowl murmured as he guided his lover towards the estate's service entrance. "We can refuel, fix that glitching programming and recharge."

Jazz kept his fingers wrapped around Prowl's as they approached the door, where Prowl paused and entered a code. It opened and he stepped in, Jazz followed, and then paused as he looked around.

He'd never seen servants' work areas, in either of the two estates he'd lived in. They had their own infrastructure that twined with the main hallways, allowing them quick and immediate access to almost anywhere that was needed without being seen getting there, enabling quick and discrete service.

From here, he could see several halls branching off, a lift, an open washrack, and what might be a hall lined with personal quarters. There was no one in sight.

"This is a summer hunting estate for the House my half brother is seneschal for. No one will be here for at least two metacycles," Prowl explained, his frame relaxing as the door slid closed behind them. "Fuel, cleaning up your code, recharge, washracks. What order would you like?"

"Fuel, code, washracks, recharge," Jazz said, and then shuddered as the construct seemed to sense their intentions and sent creeping tendrils out, searching for life-sustaining systems. If couldn't have its love and bonded, Jazz was not going to have Prowl. Jazz shoved it down, but the seeking trails of broken coding leaked right back out, slow and steady and ravenous for a taste of spark energy.

Prowl had started to step forward, but Jazz reached out and grabbed his arm. "Code," he gasped, giving another hard shudder and a low moan when the construct found a hold and heaved itself up, slavering in anticipation of destroying the thieves. "Code first! Primus-get it out!"

Prowl simply nodded and plugged in, not even giving Jazz the time to open his dataport on his own. The moment Jazz's systems became peripheral to his own he hacked several critical datacores and took full control of Jazz's frame. While he guided them to the ground to lean against a wall, slumped together, the majority of his overpowered systems began rerouting all of the vital signals through himself. It was suicidaly dangerous. If the code got into the right place it could destroy them both. It also gave Jazz the protection of Prowl's firewalls and a system not the construct's own to filter out the broken code.

He settled in and began a systematic scrubbing of Jazz's processors, code, memory banks and active memory for every trace of anything he didn't want there. Entire blocks of memory were obliterated because the adaptive code was integrated strongly enough in them that it could rebuild itself, given enough time. Other memories were simply sanitized, taken into Prowl, erased from Jazz, stripped down to a recorded memory that one might get from a library file, then placed where the full memory had been. After each memory was examined, no matter what happened to it, it was locked down so Jazz could not access it.

Other parts of Prowl's processors began an aggressive sweep of Jazz's code, forcing every line and fragment to justify its existence and lay out every protocol and routine.

It was terrifying, and moving too rapidly for Jazz to understand or even fully feel what was happening. In one instant, he'd been upright, looking at Prowl, and in the next, he was blind and trapped and moving, feeling pieces of himself crumbling away into nothing as memories were taken and shredded, leaving a foundation beneath him that felt like it could topple at any time.

The pain-if he could call it that-was brutal and pounding, worse than feeling Vortex striking the bond, worse than feeling Vortex striking him, and it left him screaming in silent horror, locked out from his frame, unable to stop himself from slipping right through his own fingers.

Somewhere through it all, he could feel Prowl and he clung to that as hard as he could while the invading presence calmly and systematically tore through him, easily overpowering the shrieking remnants of the construct, wiping it away.

Then just as quick as things had been torn apart, they were back. First his memories, then system after system was turned over to him in rapid succession. It was not unlike booting up, but much less comprehendible.

~Jazz?~ Prowl nudged him gently, everything about him apologetic.

Optics snapped back on, startled and disoriented, and Jazz couldn't remember how he'd gotten here, pressed against the wall with Prowl over him, wings flared out and blocking his view of their surroundings. He shifted, realized his fingers were digging into Prowl's arms, and tried to relax them.

~Yes,~ he said, still unsettled and anxious without being able to place why. He reached tentatively into his processors, and slumped in relief when he found himself alone there.

~It's over,~ Prowl said firmly. ~I removed every trace of it. Do you believe you can stand?~

~Yes,~ Jazz answered, and rose with Prowl, frowning at the vaguely uncomfortable feeling that was still lingering. He shook it off and looked at Prowl, offering a half smile. ~So that leaves fuel, washracks, and recharge.~ After joors of travel, he almost wanted to skip right to the washracks, but he also knew once they were done with that, they weren't going to want to do anything but fall into a berth.

Prowl smiled, kissed him gently and unplugged. "The kitchen stores are this way. I'll show you which shelves you can take energon from without causing trouble."

Jazz caught him by the hand as he started to turn around, guiding him back, and pulled him into another kiss, this one slower and sweeter. Jazz lifted his hands to wrap gently around Prowl's neck, and flared his field with warm gratitude and love. "Thank you," he murmured against Prowl's lips.

"You are welcome, beloved," Prowl murmured back, heat flaring through his frame. "Energon," he pulled himself back with an effort. "We both need it."

Jazz nodded and let him go enough to be guided around, shown what he could use and important paths around the servant section. By the time they were under the washracks, Jazz wanted nothing more than to be clean and recharging against Prowl's side.

He shuttered his optics and turned his face up into the wonderfully hot rinse and really, truly relaxed, then hummed softly when he felt Prowl press up behind him.

"You are still beautiful, my Jazz," Prowl's voice was low, a tone that sent a shiver of desire strait to Jazz's valve. Those lovely hands, now a nearly black shade of green, slid along Jazz's hips in a caress that left no questions as Prowl kissed his neck. "You will always be beautiful."

Jazz gasped softly and tilted his head away, lifting his hands to cover Prowl's as he leaned back against him. The words sent a shiver down his frame and calmed something in his processors that he hadn't even realized was bothering him before then. "Love your voice," he murmured, slowly dipping down before sliding back up against his lover. "Could listen to you talk forever."

A low moan and flare of pleasure answered his rubbing and Prowl slid one hand forward, cupping it lightly over Jazz's spike cover. "May I listen to your pleasure for a while, before indulging you some more?"

Jazz stilled as his vents hitched involuntarily. It made sense that with a completely rebuilt frame, he would have a spike now, but that thought had been nowhere near anything flagged as relevant, and it hadn't even occurred to him. He hesitated for a moment, remembering Vortex-

It was irrational, illogical, and he had no reason to be worried, and yet... "Hurt last time," he said softly.

"I know, love," Prowl's voice was a gentle, reassuring coo as his fingers played across the cover, not demanding but trying to entice. "I'm not him. I want to show you your spike can feel good."

"I know it can," Jazz said, annoyed by his own reluctance. He'd spent a vorn dedicating himself to pleasing one spike, and had heard and felt for himself just how good it could make a mech feel.

He tried to get his frame to relax again, tried to shove away the only memory he had of this, and forced himself to look down so he could believe it wasn't Vortex's fingers tracing the around the plating and making him shiver like this. He x-vented slowly. "Okay," he whispered, more to himself than Prowl, and released the grip he had on the cover's unlocking sequence. It clicked open and slid back immediately, and the tremor that went up his spine had nothing to do with Prowl's fingers.

Yet another chapter with graphic smut. Read on Ao3
archiveofourown dot org/works/637909/chapters/1254006