Hey everyone~ Here's another chapter to the adventure that is Where You and I Collide! I was hoping to wait until Friday to post, but I'm not the most patient creature in the world (total personality flaw, I know). Plus, I'm mega-bummed with the super-flop of the most recent chapter of Surface of the Sun (another fic of mine). So, as a pick-me-up, I'm posting this chapter here ^_^ I'm looking forward to hearing your thoughts on the chapter! ^_^
My sincerest thanks to the very special people who were able to take the time to review; you guys are my favourite people in the world! =P Thank you to AriRashkae, Anasazi Darkmoon, Vivienne Granger, Gatekat, ChaosGarden, renegadewriter8, 1bloodtempest, CNightJoy, BoredTech, Bluebird Soaring, FoghornLeghorn83, abarai-san, femme4prime, Faecat, JemEvan, Got Buttermilk, phoebe turner, wolfhuntsmoon, Optimus Bob, Midnight Marquis, smoking caramel, Peacewish, UsagiLovesDuochan, lastditch, kathy3meme, Daklog73, Fiera Sabre, chaitea16, Chloo, and MissyMoo. Your thoughts and enthusiasm never cease to put a smile on my face, inspiration in my head, and keep my fingers on the keyboard. =P
Read, Review, and Enjoy~ ^_^
Chapter 18
Prowl found Jazz sitting on the roof of an abandoned building that existed beyond the limits of Iacon's base compound. It was a relic of the Golden Age, left to complete disuse now. Warfare had turned the structure into a hollowed husk of rust and groaning support. It was far enough away from the outer boundaries of base that the lights did not reach out so far, leaving the shadows of night to swallow it. The sky above was velvet black, dotted by the faded lights of distant stars. Cybertron's two moons were in a dark phase tonight, offering barely enough silver light to see by. The wide expanse of ravaged land surrounding the base stretched out until the horizon, blackened jagged shapes reaching for the sky like claws. The rooftop was all but absolute silence, contemplative and heavy.
Jazz sat on the very ledge of the roof, as close to danger as he could get without truly falling off. His legs dangled over the edge, his armour chinking against the ledge whenever he moved. He was sitting in such a way that the dim light of the moons and stars glinted off his silver armour and made him seem haunting, as if he were not quite all there. His horned head was turned up to the stars, outlined by the stars. The two pinpricks of white light that served as his optics looked especially bright in the night, like twin captured stars burning from his faceplate.
If Prowl wished to be whimsical in his consideration of the saboteur, he might say that Jazz looked like his mind was in a galaxy far, far away. Given that he was not prone to fanciful thinking, he merely concluded that Jazz was thinking intently on some unknown subject.
At first, he was reluctant to interrupt such intense contemplation. It was a very rare moment to see Jazz in such a stationary pose. Normally, he was an incredibly hard bot to pin down- both physically and metaphorically- even after their extended acquaintance with each other. To find the saboteur in such an isolated place was a rare occurrence that Prowl did not want to waste. It was an opportunity to study the silver mech, since there was always something new to learn about him.
"If ya keep staring at meh, you'll give meh a complex," Jazz suddenly said without looking around. He knew the moment Prowl had arrived without even needing to scan for the tactician's spark. It was simply a second sense he'd developed, knowing when Prowl was near. Prowl had a similar sense for Jazz.
"You already have enough complexes," Prowl replied, rolling his optics. His opportunity to study would have to wait for another time.
A soft sound like a brief laugh escaped Jazz. "Then stop staring, half-bit."
Prowl politely directed his gaze elsewhere, to the sky.
Jazz very briefly cast his gaze to Prowl before looking away again. "Nice night, isn't it?"
"I suppose," Prowl replied, staying in the entrance of the stairwell. He wasn't sure if he was welcome or not. He had no particular reason for seeking the saboteur out this night; he had came on a whim, which was something he did not do very often (although, he had to admit there was a distinct statistical increase in whim-following ever since he'd met Jazz). Even in finding Jazz, it had not been so much a logical calculation but an inclination of a direction that Jazz might have gone in, which turned out to be right since Jazz was now right in front of him. Now he did not know what to do.
The saboteur was not aware of Prowl's internal dilemma. Or, if he was, he didn't care. His attention appeared firmly fixated on whatever thoughts were running amok through his head.
Deciding that he would simply ask for an invitation rather than stand around like an idiot, Prowl enquired, "May I sit with you?"
Silver shoulders shrugged up. "Ya can do what ya like."
Deciding that that was invitation enough, Prowl moved across the derelict roof to the edge where Jazz sat. He climbed up on the slightly crooked ledge and let his legs dangle over the side. He looked down and realized that even though he knew exactly how tall the building was, the ground looked a lot farther away when he was staring at it from such a significant height. To make matters worse, he could hear the building moaning beneath Jazz's and his combined weight. It was extremely disconcerting. Prowl eased back and spread his hands behind him, seeking some form of stability. He did not like feeling like he was out on a ledge, despite the fact that he really was out on a ledge.
"Why did ya come?" Jazz asked, glancing Prowl's way.
"Do I need a reason to seek out your company?" Prowl wondered.
Jazz smirked. "Not always, but ya generally have a reason for everything."
"Generality does not always cover exceptionality," Prowl replied, almost teasing. He could admit that he was getting quite good at minor humour, but mostly only when he was speaking with Jazz. The saboteur had a talent for figuring out when he was trying to be funny.
This time was no exception; Jazz smirked. "Ah'm exceptional, am Ah?"
"In many cases, yes, but I was referring to circumstance not yourself," Prowl said, shaking his head. He wore his almost-smile. "My work is finished for the orn and I had no other pressing matters to attend to. I did not wish to return to my quarters, so I sought you instead." He considered his company for a moment, noting Jazz's distant expression. It was not as lively as it usually was. "If you want me to leave, I will."
"Nah, ya came all the way out here. Ya might as well stay."
"Thank you."
With one last glance to each other, they turned to the sky and the horizon it kissed. A night breeze blew over them, but they hardly felt the coolness as it swirled beneath the cracks in their armour. Cybertronians didn't care much for temperatures unless their armour was melting or their energon was freezing in their lines. So long as there wasn't an acid downpour raining on them, they were quite comfortable to be outside at any time.
The silence that had reigned before Prowl's arrival was restored, blanketing both bots in the contemplative silence. Prowl sighed absently, accepting that tonight would not be for long conversations. He was unperturbed by the idea, turning his attentions to the dark lands stretching out before him. He absorbed the cold night pensively. Usually, when he found himself in Jazz's company, they had no trouble with topics to discuss. They could speak with each other quite amiably for unusually long periods of time, almost to the point of distraction from their original work. Familiarity had bred a sense of ease that allowed them to broach topics that they would not normally discuss with others, especially topics that referred to themselves. Tonight, however, there did not seem to be much to say.
The silence was okay, too. Prowl was accustomed to silence and did not mind maintaining it.
He tilted his head back comfortably, shifting to find a comfortable spot on the uneven ledge. Since contemplation seemed to be the order of the night, Prowl decided to consider some matters of personal importance. It had been several dozen orns since his and Jazz's last meeting in the training range, which was their eighth meeting in total. The so-called 'initiation' stage was a slow but painful one which he was well acquainted with by now. It required long periods in between to heal before he could have the slag beaten out of him again. While he still did not have a grasp the why, he did have the consolation of knowing his pain threshold was increasing. Being able to withstand half a dozen stab wounds had its advantages. Plus, with the Autobots aware of his injuries were due to training, bots weren't staring at him as strangely as they used to. Only some, such as Sideswipe, continued to merrily gossip of other possibilities.
Prowl knew he was on the cusp of figuring out the mystery. It was on the very tip of his processor, yet he couldn't quite seem to grasp it. He not only hoped to end the initiation process for his own sake, but for Ratchet's as well. The medic had done well to maintain his promise to help them, but with each trip Prowl took into the med bay, Ratchet became increasingly unmanageable. There was no telling what the medic might do… or what he might throw.
"Ya know the time?" Jazz suddenly asked.
Prowl blinked out of his reverie. "Is your chronometer not working?"
"Ah turned it off ta be out here," Jazz replied with a clear indication that he didn't plan on turning it back on.
That was very strange to hear from Jazz. Normally, he did not like the thought of being disconnected from something, having other bots know something he didn't. Whatever he was thinking about, it must have been very serious for him to turn off his secondary programs. Prowl did not question the saboteur over the matter. He politely supplied Jazz with the time. They slipped back into a comfortable silence.
The short exchange brought another matter Prowl wished to consider: Jazz's time in Iacon.
Where had all the time gone? Logically, Prowl knew that time was a constant that did not move faster or slower on its own, yet... time seemed to have flown by. Jazz had come to Iacon a vorn ago. A vorn. He and Jazz had been aware of the anniversary when it had come and gone, but neither had bothered to say anything about it. There wasn't much to say, really. Megatron apparently had stopped sending parties to retrieve Jazz- or else, he had fallen back to wait for the opportune moment to strike in the future. Life in Iacon went on peacefully… as peacefully as life can be when living on a base filled with bots who liked to make nuisances of themselves.
Strange as it might seem, time had created a niche for Jazz to fit into… sort of.
There was still the occasional incident between Jazz and certain Autobots, but generally Mirage had the torment coming. Blackhawk could be found frequently inviting Jazz to be a part of a Special Ops mission; more often than not, Jazz accepted. On a few notable occasions, he'd even been named leader of the team. There were still too many reservations about him to give him a solo mission, though that time was coming. In the meantime, Jazz made a curious effort to be part of the team. He didn't get a lot of the "team" concepts, but no one really expected him to. Visiting Autobots from other bases still made some noise about Jazz being a dangerous liability, only to find that several Iacon Autobots had something to say contrary to their objections.
For his entire stay on base, Jazz had not killed a single bot- except for those who he deemed deserved it. They'd all been Decepticons, of course... and one Autobot traitor he'd caught before the security team could get to them. However, Firestar had gone missing for several orns, resulting in a massive panic attack from Red Alert. Good news was, she managed to stumble her way back to base after a couple of orns with all of her limbs intact. Bad news was that Jazz had scrambled her processor so badly that it took Ratchet the better part of a fortnight to get the femme back in working order. There was no proof that Jazz had been involved, but no one really needed proof to know he'd done it.
It was a very slow metamorphosis, so slow that it was almost imperceptible, yet it was there. Prowl could see the many changes in Jazz.
If he was brutally honest with himself, he was forced to admit that being in Jazz's company had exuded its own changes in him.
"Ya didn't just come out here ta sit in silence, did ya?" Jazz suddenly wondered.
"I had no reason for coming out here at all, other than to be in your company," Prowl replied. "If you want, you can blame me for our silence, since I came here lacking in any topics to discuss."
Jazz shrugged. "Nah, Ah didn't feel much like talking, anyways."
"Ah." Prowl consulted his hands for a moment, wondering if Jazz's admission was an indirect request not to speak at all for the night. When he cast a sidelong glance toward Jazz and saw the mech's expression, which was a curiously haunted, he decided to be polite and ask rather than spend the night wondering. "Do you mind if I ask what you were thinking of?"
There came a shrug, followed by a long silence. Jazz watched the night sky for a little while, then replied, "Ah was thinking about stuff. And you?"
"Stuff, as well."
Jazz smirked at the answer. Prowl almost smiled in return.
They lapsed into another bout of silence that lasted for a fair amount of time, but did not stretch out so long as to bore them of each other's company. For the longest while, Prowl contented himself with the sky. He realized that in watching the stars tonight, he had not actually consciously looked at the stars in a very long time. It was odd to realize that he had always known the stars existed, but he could not recall a time when he had ever looked at them. Now that he did see them, he discovered that they were really quite beautiful in a way that he could not describe.
Jazz revved quietly, his gaze focused on something other then the stars. He cycled air in through his vents, then sighed heavily. Drawn by the noise of his sigh, Prowl turned his gaze on the silver minibot and noted what direction he was staring. It was downwards, but not towards the ground. In his hands was a sleek, familiar shape; a crystalline visor to replace the one he had done without for so long.
"You must feel relieved to have a new one," Prowl commented.
"Hmm?" Jazz looked up from his visor, glancing Prowl's way. "Yeah, Ah guess. Ah got used ta being without it, but now that Ah have it back, Ah remember how strange it is ta be without it."
"May I see it?" Prowl enquired.
"Sure." The visor was held out.
Prowl took it into his possession mindfully. The reason it had taken so long to find a replacement visor for the one Prowl had destroyed was because Jazz insisted that diamond be used. He preferred diamond to any other crystalline material because it was the hardest material, scratch resistant. Diamond was not hard to come by, since carbon was easy to compress into the right material, but working with diamond to create the right shapes for Cybertronian use took certain skills. Ratchet, Wheeljack, and Perceptor were only trained to create lenses for optics. An Autobot from another base had to be appealed upon, and then the Autobot had to be convinced to take the job. He apparently had several issues with working for a mech like Jazz. The negotiation process had been difficult.
"It's very nice work," Prowl commented, turning the crystalline visor over in his hands.
"The bot who made it did five of them so Ah had replacements," said Jazz.
Surprised, Prowl offered a mild smile. "That was very kind of him."
"It was a fight to get that much," Jazz admitted reluctantly. "Ah had ta pay double the rate."
"Oh." Prowl felt his spark sink a little, disappointed that his own faction was so disgustingly stubborn. He ran his fingers over the sharp edges, admiring the work. Even if it had been done reluctantly, it was still quality. "Would you like me to help you put it on?"
Jazz hesitated, his white gaze flashing in the night. He had no reason to turn down the offer, so he conceded to it. They turned towards each other, careful of the ledge they sat on. The metal beneath them creaked. Crumbs of dark rust fell to the ground.
Prowl raised a finger beneath Jazz's chin, lifting his faceplate to inspect where the visor's connectors were. Around the edges of Jazz's faceplate, the armour rearranged subtly to make the connectors obvious. Their optics met for a very brief moment before dutifully looking away. Prowl raised the crystal visor and aligned it, adjusting it until it fit perfectly. The connectors clamped down and drew the edges of the crystal into place. A moment later, the crystal became integrated into Jazz's systems, lighting up with bright white light.
"There, it's a perfect fit," Prowl announced as he moved away.
Jazz touched his visor, the sides of his mouthplates curling up. "Thanks."
"You look very…" Prowl trailed off, wondering if it was appropriate to compliment the bot on something as simple as a visor.
"Handsome?" Jazz supplied, smirking.
Prowl looked away, revving quietly. "Symmetrical."
Jazz snorted.
They turned away from each other, both leaning back at the same time. Their hands moved back to brace their weight, but ended up brushing against each other. They jerked away.
"Sorry," Prowl automatically said.
Jazz shrugged. "Don't worry about it."
They settled back again, this time careful not to touch each other.
"Ya know, it's strange being here," Jazz said lowly.
"On a roof?"
A flat stare was directed toward Prowl. When Jazz realized he was being literal on purpose, he chuckled lightly. Prowl made a similar quiet noise.
Jazz quieted, his gaze settling on Prowl. "What's strange is meh being here in Iacon."
"Is it really that strange?" Prowl wondered. "You have been here for a vorn; I would have thought you would be accustomed to the place by now."
Jazz revved quietly. "Ah am used ta the place, and that's what Ah find weird. When Ah first came here, Ah thought Ah'd be long gone by now. Ah don't think Ah've ever spent so long in one place." He sighed, looking to the ground. "But here Ah am."
"Here you are," Prowl murmured. He could only guess by the tone Jazz was using that this was the matter he had been thinking of so intensely before. If anything, it was a really intense topic to consider.
"Ah think… Ah think maybe Ah should go soon," Jazz said, unable to look at Prowl.
Prowl jerked subtly with the force of his surprise. "Go? Where?"
"Ah don't know," Jazz sighed. "There are plenty of places ta go…" He stared down at his hands with a pensive frown, as if he could not believe the words he was about to say- "Ah've heard that one or two of the colonies are holding on. So long as Ah don't tell anyone mah designation, Ah should be fine."
This was not welcomed news to Prowl. "What about-?"
"Your training?" Jazz's gaze turned haunted, as it always did when the subject came up. It was as if the ghost of Xerxia still hung over him with every tortured memory he was forced to relive. "Ah don't know. Ah know Ah promised ta help ya, but that was a long time ago. Ah just don't know any more." He blew a long, drawn out blast of air from his vents. "Ah do wanna make ya better, but maybe Ah'm really not the right bot for it."
"You promised…" Prowl trailed off, feeling ridiculous for bringing up such a petulant point.
Jazz's smirk was bitter. "It wouldn't be the first promise Ah've ever broken. Besides, look on the bright side- you won't get the slag beaten out of ya any more."
Prowl looked down, pressing his mouthplates together. He did not care about getting the slag beaten out of him. His reaction to the news of Jazz's intention to leave was not a logical one. Instead of immediately considering all of the tactical disadvantages Jazz's absence would cause, all Prowl could think of was how much he disliked the idea of Jazz being gone. The niche that had been created for the saboteur would be empty. All of the adjustments Prowl had made to his own life to accommodate Jazz's presence would be for naught.
"It's not like Ah want ta go. Ah just have ta go," Jazz intoned, as if he was trying to justify himself. He was not a prisoner of Iacon, so he did not require any excuse to leave as he pleased, but for some reason, he felt as if he needed to say something to Prowl.
"You don't have to do anything you don't want to," Prowl replied quietly.
"Ya don't understand, Prowl," sighed the saboteur. He shook his head, moonlight glinting off his silver horns. "Ah'm not cut out ta be an Autobot- Ah figured that out a long time ago. Ah don't know what Ah'm doing anymore. Everything Ah've ever known has been turned upside down an' Ah don't know which way is up. It's better if Ah get away before things get worse."
"Did someone say something to you? Do something to make you want to leave?" Prowl pressed.
There came a shake of Jazz's head. "This isn't some sudden thing. It's been building up for a while. Ah've just been getting more and more confused and Ah don't like it. Things have gotten so out of control that Ah don't know how ta deal with it anymore. Ah think Ah need ta take a step back from all of this and figure things out."
"I cannot change your mind?" Prowl enquired.
"Ah'd prefer if ya didn't try," Jazz sighed.
Prowl's optics dimmed. "You will be… greatly missed."
Jazz's visor flashed, then suddenly the crystal shield flicked up. His optics were openly stunned, then he laughed without humour. "Ah won't be missed, Prowl. Life will just go back ta the way is was without meh. Peaceful. Boring. Logical…"
"On the contrary, the twins will be utterly unmanageable without you. Firestar is rather attached to you and will miserable in your absence. Blackhawk has become quite invested in your assistance in his division and will see a reduction in efficiency. And I…" Prowl trailed off unsurely.
"And you what?" Jazz pressed, suddenly very attentive of the answer.
Prowl cast his gaze to the night sky. "I will miss you for your company."
The effect of the words said aloud resonated in both bots. Their relationship was not only of competition anymore, nor was it the dynamic between master and student. It was something quite different, as unique as the two individual bots involved. Their relationship to each other was something that was strange and fickle, too evanescent to have a name just yet. Perhaps like a partnership, but certainly less defined. For such reputedly intelligent bots, both were at a loss to realize that they would miss each other when out of company.
Jazz huffed a quiet laugh. "You're not such bad company either."
Prowl almost smiled. "If you do leave, will you come back?"
"Maybe." He didn't sound too sure about the answer.
"If you leave before I am cured of my problems, who else will there be to help me?"
"You're smart," Jazz replied, trying to be both serious and teasing. "Ah'm sure you'll be able ta figure it out. You've already come pretty far already an' we haven't even gotten out of the initiation stage. That's pretty damn impressive, if ya ask meh."
Prowl continued to frown.
Jazz nudged the tactician lightly with his elbow. "Ah see that look on your faceplate, Prowler. Don't think of this as a failure ta try ta convert meh into an Autobot. We both knew that was never gonna happen. Meh movin' on is the best thing for both of us."
Prowl sighed, hunching forward. Perhaps it had been obvious to Jazz, but not so for him. He had always held on to the small probability that he could change the saboteur. Now his processor raced with new calculations that showed that Jazz leaving would not be beneficial for anyone. He doubted Jazz was interested in such probabilities. Instead, he said, "Thank you for telling me this."
"It didn't feel right disappearing without saying something, ya know?" Jazz leaned to the side, reaching into his subspace pocket. He withdrew a small device, holding it out. "This is a tracer Ah put together. If ya ever really need ta get a hold of meh, this will do it. Even if Ah have a dampener on, you'll be able ta find meh."
Prowl took the gift into his hands as carefully as he had handled Jazz's visor. It was a very tiny tracer of mixed design. Jazz was not an engineer, but he was obviously proficient with constructing devices for his own specific means. When Prowl finally looked up to meet Jazz's gaze, he asked, "Do you know when you will leave?"
Jazz hesitated, thinking. "Ah don't know… whenever the time is right, Ah guess."
Prowl nodded, frowning. He tucked the small tracking device away into his subspace pocket. In an unspoken agreement, both bots turned away from each other to face the horizon. They spent the next several joors sitting in each other's company. Neither found much need for conversation, so they stayed in each other's company in silence. Near the grey crack of dawn, a sharp wind blew hard enough to rock the derelict building they sat on. They braced themselves, hoping not to plunge to their deaths. Their hands ended up touching as they held on to the ledge for dear life. After the building settled again, their grip on their perches relaxed, but their hands remained touching.
Without realizing it, Prowl must have dozed off. Obviously he was more tired than he had given himself credit for. The next thing he knew, he was being startled awake by the sound of rushing jet engines from above. His head jerked up, scanning the aircrafts. One was Powerglide, the other was Skydive. They were flying uncommonly fast, almost panicked. As they came closer, Prowl raised an arm to hail them. Both flyers acknowledged the hail with a tilt of their wings, though it was Skydive who dropped from flight to the roof, rattling the unsteady metal. Powerglide kept going for Iacon.
Prowl noted the flyer's expression, which was a mottled mix of panic and fear. Seeing this, he was immediately prompted to ask, "Has something happened?"
"We just got word about a recon team," said the aerial. "They got jumped while checking out some Decepticon activity in the borderlands between Iacon and Axiom Nexus. Most of the team got out, but Bluestreak wasn't so lucky."
"The Decepticons have Bluestreak?"
"Yes."
Coldness flooded Prowl. "Go- you need to alert the others with Powerglide. I will be right behind you."
Skydive bowed once before leaping to the air, gone in a streak of afterburn.
Prowl spun around to gather Jazz and leave, only to discover that Jazz was already long gone.