I'm so sorry that it's taken me so long with this chapter. I hope that everyone is still on board for reading and reviewing~ By the looks of things, we might actually get to 200 by chapter 8, which means a J/P one-shot dedicated to all of you. =)

My sincerest thanks to everyone who has shown their support by reviewing! You have all been my inspiration and reason to continue with this story~ Thank you so much to chickentyrant5, Smoking Caramels, Marinelife37, Bluebird Soaring, KamiOkagi666, Peacewish, Kathrine, Elita One, Faecat, Optimus Bob, PrancingTiger86, phoebe turner, JinxGrl, flammingmarsh, shadowblade-tara, Randomstrike, Shinigami-Sama1, renegadewriter8, Refraction Imagination, Queen of the Red Skittle, SternEase, Mieaou, Anon, Mirage Shinkiro, Lecidre, FunkyFish1991, Lady Tecuma, Imbri of the Moon, FoghornLeghorn83, Chloo, Shizuka Taiyou, and Gatekat! You're all too wonderful! Like the wind beneath my wings~ *minus the corny eye-rolling that a lines like that brings*

Chapter 7

Jazz leaned back casually in his chair, his legs crossed at the ankles as they stretched out before him. He wasn't sitting in a particularly comfortable chair, but seeing as his aft wasn't magnetically attached to it, there was no sense in complaining. Yet.

The offensive piece of furniture was nothing but two slabs of metal welded together at a ninety-degree angle with four sturdy poles welded to the bottom to hold it up. It was the embodiment of the basic definition of a chair, but so wholly devoid of any comforts in the design that it was more like a cruel punishment to sit in it. The fact that such a plain and utilitarian chair existed very nearly offended Jazz if it wasn't for the fact that Prowl was the owner of said chair and it suited a mech like him to own a chair like that. Because Prowl was the owner, Jazz sat in it without complaint.

But, if at any moment Prowl suddenly decided to vacate his own seat for whatever reason, Jazz was going to steal it faster than the tactician's logic circuits could compute. He would not be held responsible for whatever happened after. Unfortunately, given how determinedly Prowl had remained in his seat since the moment they had sat down together, the tactician knew the score as well and was not willing to lose.

"Ah could be doing somethin' interestin' right now," the saboteur intoned boredly. "Ah could be doin' anything right now."

Prowl did not deviate from the torrents of information he was currently downloading. His attention was firmly fixed on the latest intel delivered from Intelligence & Espionage even as he answered, "Your definition of 'interesting' has already caused enough trouble around here."

Jazz smirked. "Can Ah help it if bots around here get so jumpy around meh?"

"No, but it does not help when they find you standing at the foot of their berths in the middle of the night watching them."

"Is Ratchet still grippin' about that?" Jazz sighed, clearly amused rather than chagrined. "Ya already searched meh and mah room- Ah didn't take nothin'. Ya know, at least the Decepticons let things like that go after they throw a couple punches at someone. You bots hold grudges."

Prowl sighed and shook his head. "I believe it's the personal invasion that bothers bots around here the most. They don't like it when they find you in their rooms, especially if you're watching them recharge."

"It doesn't bother you," Jazz pointed out.

"I am the exception," Prowl replied, setting one data pad aside in order to begin downloading the next. "I go into recharge expecting you to do something to harass me."

"Should Ah be flattered that Ah'm the last thing ya think about before rechargin'?" Jazz wondered, laughing.

"Please, don't be." He blinked, and a flash of information crossed his optics before it was committed to memory for later appraisal. "The rest of Iacon's populace goes into recharge trusting me to keep them safe from you. When someone finds you standing at the end of their berths, it means I have failed and the Autobots lose confidence in my abilities."

"What a shame," the saboteur shrugged, though said in a way that clearly showcased his apathy towards the plight.

"Indeed," growled the tactician. "Not to mention that while you keep up the behaviour, the Autobots will continue to see you as a threat, despite your Neutral status."

"They should know that it's not mah alliance that makes meh a threat, it's meh," Jazz replied firmly. "No one should forget that."

Prowl finally paused in his downloading in order to meet Jazz's steady gaze. "And it is precisely that attitude that keeps you here with me, doing nothing interesting. No one here is stupid enough to trust you to your own devices for more than an astrosecond, if even that. Until the orn comes when you discover that madness and backstabbing is not the only way to live, you are stuck with me."

Jazz's gaze narrowed into a glare, though hidden behind his visor. Prowl felt the black glare, though he ignored it as he returned his attentions back to his work.

"In that case, Ah'm gonna be stuck ta ya for a real long time, Prowl," growled the silver bot.

"So be it," replied Prowl. "I am already accustomed to your company as it is."

With a huff, Jazz looked away and chose not to reply.

For the next little while, the saboteur contented himself with the study of Prowl's office. Not that he hadn't memorized the place from the last dozen or so orns he'd been trapped in the room with the tactician. He would kill for a window right about then, granted he could kill for a lot less anyways. The office was as utilitarian as the chair he was currently sitting in. Plain walls, with a plain desk, with two chairs- one relatively comfortable one for Prowl, and the sparkless construction of torture meant for Jazz and everyone else. The room was lit by a plain light on the ceiling and a second sitting on the corner of the desk; there were no personal objects anywhere to identify Prowl by, which, in a way, identified him clearly enough. Every object on his desk was neat and ordered. Not a single object out of place or without purpose.

It made Jazz want to lean forward and sweep the desk clean just to see what Prowl would do.

Bored once again, this time to a degree where he wished he was being tortured by his interrogator just to break the monotony, Jazz instead took the initiative to steal something. It didn't even really count as stealing since it was lying right in front of him, out in the open, practically begging to be picked up and looked at. Nevertheless, Prowl immediately stopped what he was doing and extended his hand in a demand for the data pad's return.

"That is sensitive information you are handling," said the tactician sternly. "Please return it."

"Now why would Ah do somethin' like that?" wondered Jazz, leaning back in his seat and propping his feet on the edge of Prowl's desk. "Ah'd like ta think ya know meh a little better than that; Ah don't do things just because ya ask."

"Jazz, please, return that immediately," Prowl ordered tightly. Clearly, he was not in a mood to be messed with, which meant Jazz was instantly in a mood to be messing with him.

"Maybe later," the saboteur hummed.

"This is absolutely no time for your games. I have yet to process the information on it, and an assessment of it is due by tomorrow so the Intelligence & Espionage division can decide to further act on it or not."

"Ya want meh ta help?" Jazz offered slyly.

Prowl hesitated on the offer, weighing every option. Eventually, he said, "I'm not sure that would be appropriate…"

"Really?" The saboteur pointed to himself. "Ex-Decepticon an' all that, Ah might know a thing or two about mah old haunts. Ah could be very appropriate."

"Yes, but-."

"Isn't the whole point of havin' meh here all about the tactical advantage Ah could give ya?"

"To a degree, yes-."

"Well, here Ah am offering," Jazz said, spreading his arms to give a visual of the very valuable services he was offering- namely, himself. He was, indeed, a very valuable service, one that was so damned bored out his slagging mind that he didn't mind pawning himself to the Autobot just for something to do.

Prowl pursed his mouthplates. "Did you not just claim that you wished to remain a threat to the Autobots? Helping us against your ex-faction is hardly a way to engender fear."

Jazz shrugged, letting his arms fall to his sides. "Ah'm not lookin' ta help no one but mahself; ya said it yerself- reports need ta be in tomorrow. A second mind set on the stuff should help. After that, you'll be free ta entertain meh ta mah spark's desire." He flicked his hand commandingly. "It's all about meh, after all."

Prowl's mouth curved in a decidedly dry smile. "Yes, I have gathered as much."

"An' don't ya worry about mah reputation either. Ah don't mind puttin' in the extra effort into harassing some bots ta remind them who's boss," Jazz added amiably. "Can't let them forget, ya know?"

"Because that would be such a shame if they did." Prowl rolled his optics and sat back down. "I'm not going to deter you from this, am I?"

"Not really." Jazz leaned forward, his grin turning suggestive. "Give into meh already an' we'll all be better for it. Ah could make it good for ya."

"I'm sure you could, but we're going to focus on work right now," Prowl stressed, optics narrowing.

"Meaning we can focus on other things later?" Jazz teased, grinning wider.

Prowl continued to glare flatly. "Only if 'later' means 'never' in this context."

"Nah, I was kind of thinkin' 'later' as in 'after your shift we'll lock the door and test how sturdy your desk is'," Jazz replied. His visor was still down, but he gave the distinct impression of waggling his optic ridges suggestively.

"That," Prowl growled, "will never happen."

"Never say never, Prowler- it only tempts bots to try harder," Jazz warned wickedly.

"Not all bots, just you," the tactician sighed. He got up from his seat, walked around the desk, and plucked the stolen data pad away from the saboteur. He turned it over in his hands, examining it for any possible damage even though he knew there was none. He did note one exception, though. "You downloaded its contents already, didn't you?"

"Maybe," Jazz shrugged.

Prowl let his gaze land steadily on Jazz, studying him with a slight frown that belied a wry amusement he did not want to reveal. "You downloaded all of the data pads, didn't you?"

Again, the saboteur shrugged. "Had to keep mahself entertained somehow. Ya didn't assume Ah would just sit here nicely this whole time, did ya?"

A very interesting glint crossed Prowl's optics, and the hint of a satisfied smirk touched his faceplate. "I assumed nothing about you, Jazz. What I knew, on the other hand…" He knew if he had asked Jazz to help confirm the intel brought in my Mirage's mechs, Jazz would have invariably refused. Direct requests would never work on a mech like him. Laying out the right temptations and letting Jazz come to his own decisions tended to work so much better.

Jazz's visor flashed sharply. "Well played," he conceded.

"I thought so." Moving back around his desk to his own seat, he moved over to the side to allow room for another presence at his side. "If you're still willing to help, you can come over to my side if you like."

"Ah can't decide if that's a double entendre or not," Jazz smirked. Nevertheless, he rose from his seat and dragged himself and his chair to the other side of the desk. "An' on second thought, Ah don't really care right now."

Prowl smirked, revealing nothing. He selected an assortment of data pads whose information he had already been through and slid the pile over to Jazz. "You're familiar with Polyhex, are you not?"

"Sure, Ah know it enough." He sorted through the data, recalling all of the information he'd downloaded earlier, comparing it to his own personal knowledge.

"Will you be able to confirm some of this information? Obviously you will not be up-to-date with your ex-faction, but-."

"Ah can do it."

Prowl blinked at such an uncharacteristically short answer, and then nodded. "I'll trust that you can."

It was no surprise that Jazz could do his part in reviewing and elaborating the information, and he did it with his usual flair. He wasn't from Polyhex, but he knew the base on a peripheral basis from downloading schematics of it. As it stood, Jazz had the schematics of all major Decepticon strongholds, plus the location of a number of tactically important outposts. He had it all stashed away in his head in the eventuality that he might have to use it against his faction some orn. He had always imagined him using the information for his own gains; never in his wildest dreams did he think he'd be helping the enemy. His familiarity with Decepticon rule and hierarchy came of the utmost importance in understanding how Polyhex operated; he surmised there would be several differences, seeing as each base held its own distinct personality, but the basics of operation should be the same.

"This is excellent," Prowl would say occasionally as he took note of something Jazz just said. "We could have been scouting that place for orns and never known about that!"

Jazz would smirk and shrug. The first few times, he would say something like, "Ah'm Decepticon, remember? Ah got the inside scoop." But after saying something akin to that once or twice, they simply settled into a rhythm that was wordless yet comfortable.

Prowl was quick and efficient in catching everything of importance that fell from Jazz's mouthplates, just as he was quick and efficient in everything else he did. Once or twice, their optics would stray to each other, their gazes would hold, and then they quickly returned to their tasks.

Sometimes Prowl would ask for further elaboration, which Jazz found himself giving readily enough. He was careful not to give away everything- he had to keep some secrets for himself- but gave enough to satisfy the question. He occasionally lied, and sometimes he tweaked the truth, but never before had he ever done so with consideration to the bot he was lying to, or even to the bots that could get hurt as a result. That alone was a very odd feeling, quite similar to the feeling he had experienced the night he had first relinquished his Decepticon title.

It was the feeling that he wasn't the same as he first was, and he wasn't too sure who he was becoming.

Pausing in his mental perusal of patchy intel on a south-eastern outpost in Polyhex's old Yvv-ve district, Jazz decided to steal another sideward glance at the mech he was with. He was mildly surprised to find that he was being watched in return. When they realized they had each others gaze, they did not look away as they had before. Jazz revved quietly, settling back in his chair to better face Prowl.

"Is this part of your plan, too?" the saboteur asked quietly. He couldn't quantify 'this' any better than a vague notion; they were not so ignorant as to deny that there was something between them, but for all their mental acuity, neither possessed the mind to comprehend exactly what it was.

Prowl straightened, opening his mouthplates to deliver an answer, only to be interrupted by a loud voice in the hall-

"Optimus Prime, sir, um… no, really, I don't think you should go in there-!"

Smokescreen's voice was easily recognizable through the walls. The near-panicked tones he was using alerted the mechs within Prowl's office to the growing distress the nearing tactician was under.

"Seriously- Prime, if Ironhide, or anyone, finds out what you're doing-."

The door to Prowl's office hissed open-

"-they're going to lynch me!" Smokescreen finished.

Before stepping into Prowl's office, Optimus turned over his shoulder to regard the pleading tactician behind him. "They won't do anything to you. You're worrying for nothing."

Smokescreen's gaze shot to Jazz before returning to the Prime's. "With that mech, there's a lot more to worry about than just 'nothing'."

"I'll be fine." With a clear dismissal that Smokescreen had every intention of ignoring, Optimus turned his attentions back to the occupants of the room. He nodded to each of them. "Prowl. Jazz."

As could be expected, Prowl shot to his feet in order to bow. "Optimus Prime, sir! This- this is quite unexpected!"

Jazz took this opportunity to steal Prowl's chair and seat himself comfortably in it. He ignored all the usual formalities one generally went through when encountering a respected figure; if he had never bothered to pull that slag with Megatron, then he sure as pit wasn't about to start for the Lord Protector's half-bit brother.

"I would like to think that I don't have to announce my presence where I go," Optimus chuckled, entering the office by a few paces. "Formalities like that are bound to drive a bot crazy."

A brief look crossed Prowl's faceplate, which he quickly arranged into a neutral expression. It wasn't his place to inform the Prime that formalities were necessary for the proper operation of a military hierarchy. Instead, he straightened just a fraction more and asked,

"To what to I owe this honour?"

"I came here to speak with Jazz, actually," the Prime replied easily.

"With… Jazz?" It took a moment to try and compute the logic. It didn't add up.

"Yes." Optimus continued to smile, even chuckling a bit at the perplexed look that crossed his tactical advisor's faceplate. Inclining his head towards the ex-Decepticon, he asked, "I hope that won't be a problem?"

The saboteur shrugged. "Wasn't doin' anythin' important."

"That shouldn't matter." Prowl's neutral expression tightened, though he did well to hide the frown he was internally wearing. "You shouldn't be left alone with him, sir," he said, hoping the Prime would see reason. "Jazz may claim Neutrality and asylum under our protection, but he himself is still an incredibly dangerous individual. I cannot permit you to place yourself under such danger. Allow either me or Smokescreen to stay for the duration of your exchange."

Smokescreen huffed, crossing his arms and leaning against the open doorframe. "I say both of us should stay. I don't trust that mech one bit- especially not with Prime."

"Ah'm flattered," Jazz said, smirking.

Optimus cast an amused glance between the two tacticians. "And I am surprised you think so little of me."

The two Autobots jerked at the address, though Prime raised his hand to stave off any refutes. Jazz, for his part, grew even more entertained by the exchange.

"I am a perfectly capable warrior on the battlefield," Optimus said, acting as the epitome of reasonableness. "If I can hold my own out there, is it not reasonable that I could defend myself in here?"

"You shouldn't trust that Jazz would fight fair," Prowl said.

"He's right, ya know. Ah don't play fair," Jazz helpfully added.

The Prime's optic ridges arched. "I'm told I shouldn't trust you, but here you are in the spark of Iacon, sequestered away in the office of our head tactical advisor who is in possession of some of Iacon's most guarded information, while you are only a short walk away from our command center, and here I find you sitting at a desk side-by-side with said advisor as he trusts you to assist him with his work. Is that not a little hypocritical?"

Jazz turned to Prowl, grinning wickedly. "He's got a point, ya are being a little hypocritical here."

Prowl glared down at him darkly. "He just accused you of being helpful and trustworthy. I'm surprised you're not insulted."

Jazz placed a hand above his spark. "Oh, Ah am- deeply and sincerely insulted, but Ah know that havin' a little alone time with your precious Prime will bother ya the most, which is why Ah'm all for it." His grin turned even more wicked. "And if Ah do kill him, Ah'll do it nice and quick so he don't feel a thing."

The Prime's smile turned wry. "How kind of you; I would hate to die slowly and painfully."

"Prime!" Prowl exclaimed, shocked. "Absolutely not! Not an Autobot on this base, nor on the planet, would allow you to place yourself in such danger! You are too valuable! Where is Ironhide? Or Ratchet, for that matter? Where are any of the other commanders? I'm sure none of them would have agreed to this!"

Optimus was silent for a moment, allowing Prowl's words to hang in the air. It was in the silence that the tactician seemed to realize that he had overstepped his boundaries. When the silence had stretched on for long enough, the Prime crossed the short distance between him and the desk in order to lean against the front. He was not threatening as some mechs would be when looming so high and large. Instead, he was indulgent and endlessly patient as he said,

"I may not hold as high a regard for social hierarchy as you, Prowl, but I am still the Prime. No matter their opinions, everyone here still answers to me. That includes you."

"Yes, of course, sir." Prowl sucked in a sharp draft of air, finding himself overwhelmed by his own transgression. He moved to fall back in his chair, to at least find something solid to latch onto and catch his wits, only to discover an astrosecond too late that his chair was not there anymore. With a yelp, he toppled backwards and landed with a crash.

Another moment of silence followed, though this one was of an entirely different manner. Prowl was left stunned on the floor, blinking up at Optimus as the Prime stared back with a twitching faceplate. Smokescreen was the first to lose his cool, snorting once before falling into the hall in order to laugh himself silly. Optimus broke into a short-lived fit of chuckles, though they were tempered out of respect for Prowl and his sensibilities. Poor mech looked absolutely bewildered. Jazz laughed freely and richly, but at least he was kind enough to stand and offer his hand to Prowl, hauling the poor mech to his feet.

"Take a walk, Prowler," the saboteur ordered laughingly. "Go on, ya need one. Go." He gave him a shove for good measure.

Still stunned by his own humiliation, Prowl stumbled to the door. He gripped the doorframe and looked back. "I shouldn't leave you two alone. It's not right."

"Your precious Prime will be fine with meh," Jazz assured, flicking his hand dismissively. "An' if ya find a scratch on him, ya can kill meh personally. Just go already."

Smokescreen was still chuckling as he took Prowl's arm. "I don't trust the mech worth a damn, but a short walk won't hurt anyone. Come on, Commander." With a light tug, they were away, the door hissing shut behind them.

Now alone in the office together, the previous humour of Prowl's fall vanished. Jazz leaned over to snag the uncomfortable chair he had initially been sitting in and tossed it to the Prime. The other mech caught it and set it down.

"Might as well sit, Prime. Ah'm not about to stand on ceremony for ya." Jazz collapsed back into his seat and swung his feet up onto Prowl's desk. Smirking a little at such stunning disregard, Optimus sat though refrained from kicking his feet up.

"So you are the great and terrible Jazz of the Decepticons," the Prime said, canting his head ever so slightly as he took stock of the silver minibot before him. "It's quite an honour to be finally meeting with you one-on-one."

"Optimus Prime," Jazz nodded in acknowledgement. "Ah can't say Ah share the same honour."

"How unfortunate," Optimus said with a shrug.

The saboteur snorted lightly. "Let's cut the niceties, shall we? What are ya doin' here, Prime? Ah ain't no show ya can walk in anytime ta gawk at."

"I'm not here to gawk at all," Optimus assured sincerely. "I am actually here to introduce myself and have a little talk, though I admit to a certain amount of curiosity in wanting to meet with you."

"Really?" Jazz drawled with utmost scepticism.

Optimus ignored the Neutral's tone with practiced ease. "It would only be polite, yes? It would be rude of me not to come speak with a distinguished guest such as yourself. You've been with us here for so long already, but I'm afraid that with so many att2acks on Iacon, there hasn't been time for me to personally meet with you."

"Not to mention your little minions have probably been doin' everythin' in their power ta keep ya from meetin' with meh," Jazz sneered.

"They're as much my friends as they are my subordinates- they worry for my wellbeing," Optimus replied evenly. "I do the same for them."

To this, Jazz made no reply but to snort and shake his head.

"But curiosity and courtesy are not the only reasons I'm here," Optimus continued.

"Oh?"

The Prime extended a hand towards Jazz. "This may be a little belated, but I would like to sincerely thank you for your part in rescuing Prowl. It would have been rather unfortunate to lose him."

Jazz stared at the offered hand with a decidedly tense frown. Every instinct in his frame screamed that the Prime was not someone to trust, not at all, not for a moment. He learned that lesson long ago: trust No One. Every bot had an agenda, no matter how civil all outside appearances were; he knew that well from all his time with Megatron. The mech could be the most charming tyrant this side of the galaxy, but in the same moment he could just as easily rip you in two. Optimus wasn't exactly the sort to disembowel someone on a whim, that much was blatantly obvious, but it was nigh impossible for Jazz to shake his suspicions of his fellow Cybertronians. It was far too much to accept that perhaps this one mech was actually saying what he meant.

Optimus let his hand fall back to his side, not at all chagrined when he had been expecting far worse than a glare. "Yes, well, I suppose that was reaching a little, wasn't it?"

"Just a little, Prime." He examined the claws of one hand, the sharp metal glinting under the stark lights of the office. "Don't think for a moment that Ah'm on your side; Ah told Prowl Ah wouldn't kill ya this time, but don't be getting' your hopes up on meh. Ah ain't no Autobot and Ah sure don't want ta bend over backwards ta serve ya for any cause."

"I hope you'll excuse me if I find that amusing, since I can't seem to get the image of you helping my tactical advisor with his work out of my mind."

Jazz's visor glinted with a steely light. "If a case of amnesia will help, Ah'll be glad to arrange one for ya."

"I'm sorry; I shouldn't have brought that up again. Obviously it's a point of contention for you." Optimus raised his hands. "I'm not looking for a fight, Jazz. I only came here to talk."

"An' ya sure have been talkin', but ya haven't said a whole lot worth listenin' too."

"Then listen to this," offered the Prime as he sat a little straighter. Suddenly his whole demeanour was very different from what it was before, radiating a presence that captured even Jazz's full attention and forced him to listen proper. Although not overtly threatening, there was an innate sense of grand power about the Prime that was entirely intimidating to anyone unlucky enough to be the sole receiver of it.

"I know what you think about being here, and about everything that goes on around you," Optimus said. "Your opinion of the Autobots is clear enough in everything that you do without it ever having to be said."

"If ya know that, then Ah'd appreciate it if you'd stop tryin' ta convert meh," Jazz snapped. "Ah'd say ya were as bad as the Decepticons, but ya don't even got the spark ta shoot meh."

Optimus's gaze narrowed a fraction, the light of his fathomless optics deepening ever so slightly. "I will never ask you to become an Autobot, Jazz. I will never order you, as a free mech, to do anything that will compromise yourself. I am not of the habit of breaking the backs of others just so that they will bow to me. But do not insult me by thinking I am motivated by anything remotely Decepticon in nature, nor should you believe that I am weak because I believe in the sanctity of all life. You are protected here because, in the end, I deem it right, even though your very presence here causes the energon of my people to be spilled. There is an upper limit to what I am willing risk, and if you cross it, I will not hesitate to react. A little respect for that would be nice."

Jazz let the words sink in, his faceplate unreadable. The gravity of the moment settled heavily on his shoulders as he realized how very mortal he was under Optimus Prime's gaze. In the end, he said, "Ah'll consider it."

"You do that." Optimus cast his optics back to the door behind him as if trying to gauge how much time they had left before Prowl and Smokescreen would return, likely with reinforcements. "As an aside, I would like to point out that Prowl has invested a lot in you. I have never known the mech to take such an interest in anyone, and I hope his efforts are not being wasted."

"Ah wouldn't say wasted, per se. Ah've never met another mech like Prowl," Jazz intoned evenly. "You are very lucky ta have him as an Autobot."

"I know," Optimus replied sincerely, his luminous optics reflecting just how deep that sincerity reached. "Which is why if you spill his energon, I will take it as a personal affront to myself."

Jazz smirked. "It's not his energon Ah'm interested in, it's his mind."

"Try not to break that, either, if you please," Optimus said tightly. "My Tactical Division wouldn't be the same without him."

"Ah won't make any promises."

Meeting the Prime's gaze, Jazz was struck with the sudden realization of how much the Autobot leader truly cared for his bots. He did not just consider them his as part of hs rule as Prime, they were not simply subordinates or pawns; they were his brothers and sisters. It was all there in his optics, which were so openly expressive that it could have been weakness if he did not have the talent of pinning mechs with a single look. Optimus gave a damn about what happened to his bots and was willing to do whatever it took to protect them. He didn't even see it as the duty of a Prime, either. No, he saw it as his mission because that was simply the kind of mech he was.

"Very well, I won't press the subject," Optimus said, rising from his seat. "Just keep in mind that if some orn you do break him, it will be your loss as well. You've said it yourself; you've never met another mech like him before, and I doubt you will ever meet another one like him again. Keep that in mind during your stay here."

Jazz watched the Prime's advance for the door, weighing all that he had heard and everything he had learned from listening to all the words not said. Just as Optimus reached the door to leave, the saboteur spoke up.

"You're a different breed than all the rest, aren't ya?"

Optimus stopped, turning around to consider the mech and his question. "Meaning?"

"You're nothin' like Megatron," Jazz said, meeting the Prime's gaze with an intense one of his own.

"I pride myself on that fact," Optimus replied.

"You're nothin' like your creator, either," Jazz continued. "Sentinel Prime didn't have the same spark for his people. You're not even like Guardian Prime, Alpha Prime, Vector Prime, Zion... You're not like any of them."

Optimus's optics flashed. For someone to know what any of those Primes were like, they would have had to have been very, very old. Not that age ever really mattered to a species like theirs, all nigh-immortal. But it was extremely rare to encounter anyone who had lived through so many Primes. Jazz's considerable reservoir of skills suddenly took on a whole knew meaning, and the potential for what other knowledge he could know suddenly grew exponentially.

Seeing comprehension dawn on the mech's faceplate, Jazz smirked. "You're not like any other Prime Ah've ever known. Ya give a damn more than you're supposed ta."

"I'll take that as a compliment from someone like you," Optimus replied with a slight incline of his head.

"Ya should. Givin' a damn like ya do is somethin' Ah don't come across that often."

"I make it my business to give a damn." Optimus glanced to the door once more. "I must be going now- Prowl and Smokescreen are returning. This has been a very… interesting conversation." He canted his head as he stared down at the silver mech still sprawled artfully behind Prowl's desk; so much danger, yet still so much potential. "Do keep in mind what I said. I'm not looking for an Autobot in you, just that you respect the one looking after you."

"Ah will keep that in mind, Prime." In a single fluid move, the mech rose to his feet and extended his hand. "It's been interestin'."

Optimus smiled, coming forward to grasp the offered hand as a sign of new born mutual respect.