Argh, darn you Fanfiction! Why must you thwart me? *shakes fist* I've spent the last two weeks completely locked out of my editing options in my account. Haven't been able to update worth shit. It's been killing me something awful! Sure, the lock out gave me a chance to catch up on some other things, but still... I hate it when I know something isn't working and there's nothing I can do to fix it! O_ *sigh* At least I found a way around it now, hence the updating of this chapter. It's quite the electric chapter, if I do say so myself. Here's hoping you all enjoy!

My sincerest thanks to the amazing reviewers of the last chapter: Optimus Bob, FoghornLeghorn83, renegadewriter8, MandaMelon, sockets, femme4prime, BoredTech, Peacewish, Darkeyes17, animelover1993, Gatekat, 1bloodtempest, Faecat, Midnight Marquis, lilyoftheval5, Prancing Tiger86, phoebe turner, ChaosGarden, Christina, Bluebird Soaring, taralynden, smoking caramels, CNightJoy, Anon, Thundergryphon, Daklog73, DitzyMusicLover, kurotorachan, Pruhana, abarai-san, Dawnslight101, xdragonslayerx, A Lurker, Nightblooming Orchid, Sideslip, Xenophobic Doll, Uniasus, UsagiLovesDuochan, and chaitea16! You are all truly amazing people deserving of all the greatest things in the universe~

This chapter is specially dedicated to abarai-san, who wrote a song inspired by chapter 18 of this story. If anyone wants to listen to the song, the link is included in her review of chapter 20. It's so gorgeous! I'm humbled and awed that anyone would be inspired so greatly by my writing to create anything so beautiful. Abarai-san, you are an amazing person and I can never thank you enough!

Read, Review, and Enjoy~

Chapter 21

More at ease than he had been throughout the last couple of orns, Prowl worked steadily on the small mountain of backed up work until there came a knock at his office door. He expected Blackhawk, who stopped in every couple of joors ever since he had passed on the information that Jazz was heading a rescue mission. As sorely tempted as Prowl was to go out and aid Jazz, he had to recognize the fact that he was a commander and did not have the freedom to run off whenever he wished. Blackhawk's presence was an unusual reprieve from such distress. Despite the fact that both bots were slightly socially inept, their exchanges with each other were comfortable.

Prowl looked up to summon the mech into his office, only to discover that it was not Blackhawk who had come knocking. It was Optimus Prime.

Accordingly, Prowl rose. "Optimus Prime, please come in."

With a nod, the Prime came in. He did not look as he usually did. His faceplate was uncommonly stern, beyond the worry that Prowl would have attributed to Bluestreak's capture. He did not sit down, but remained standing near the door. The lines of his frame were tense. His height over Prowl gave him a distinctly intimidating edge.

"Why aren't the twins in the brig, Prowl?" Optimus suddenly asked, lacking any of his usual pleasantries.

Prowl felt his spark skip, but kept his expression mild. "I beg your pardon, sir?"

"The twins, Prowl," Optimus repeated, enunciating each syllable sharply. "They're not in the brig."

"I see," Prowl replied, his faceplate betraying nothing of his inner thoughts.

"I am here because they are not in the brig," said the Prime, as if that fact were not perfectly clear already.

"I can't imagine what that has to do with me," Prowl replied carefully. That was a lie, of course. The twins not being in the brig had everything to do with him, but Optimus Prime was not to know that. Although his programming warred against such severe insubordination, lying was all he could do to ensure that the events he had set in motion went according to plan.

The Prime's expression darkened, his frown deepening a fraction. "I find that hard to believe, since you were the last one to see them." He crossed his arms over his chest. "You called them to your office earlier, Prowl. I was under the impression that you were assigning their punishment for Sideswipe pressurizing the energon dispensers to soak whoever used them, and Sunstreaker for getting into that fight with Cliffjumper. Can you confirm that their actions are normally grounds for the brig?"

"Yes, it is," Prowl confirmed reluctantly.

"And are you not the one who normally reprimands them? Are they not normally sent to the brig for their usual transgressions?"

"Yes, I am, and yes they are." Under normal circumstances, he would have loved to have locked the pair away for at least a couple of orns. It would have given the base time to recover, and Prowl would have been given several orns free from their disruptive habits. This time around, there had been more important matters at hand than assigning inane punishments that no one would ever learn their lesson from anyways.

"Can you imagine my surprise when I went down there to speak with them, only to find out they weren't there?" Optimus enquired pointedly.

Prowl leaned back a little, his mind racing. "Yes, I can surmise feeling a certain amount of astonishment…" he intoned awkwardly.

"It was more than just astonishment," Optimus pointed out, a hard edge to his words. "It was disconcerting to find them gone, to say the least."

Prowl jerked a quick nod. He obviously had miscalculated Optimus Prime's mood when formulating his less-than-above-board plan. He'd relied on Optimus's forgiving nature to dismiss the matter, which had worked in his favour a number of times in the past. He had not counted on the Prime personally going to the brig to seek out the twins. Usually, Prime liked to speak with them whenever they did something incredibly disruptive or damaging to Iacon, but minor transgressions were left alone. It appeared that statistics and calculating behavioural patterns had failed this time. The Prime did not look ready to let anything go at the moment.

"Sir, perhaps the twins broke out of the brig? It would not be the first time they've ever done that," Prowl suggested carefully.

Optimus's optic ridge rose. "That is what I thought at first. I went to Red Alert to consult the security footage to see what might have happened. What I happened to see was really quite interesting."

"And what might that have been?" Prowl enquired evenly. Internally, he steeled himself for the worst.

"Red Alert and I observed the twins being summoned to your office. They were in here for all but a few breems and then exited. They did not even make it to the brig. Instead, upon leaving this office they immediately made their way out of the building and subsequently left the base. Curious, yes?"

Prowl was silent for a moment, then slowly let out a long draft of air. "I did assign the twins a verbal reprimand and ordered them to the brig for their miscreant behaviour. If they chose to ignore my command, then that is on them." He met the Prime's gaze steadily. "I believe that you are displacing your frustration of Bluestreak's capture on me, which is understandable but unfair. If you were to take a moment to consider-."

"Enough, Prowl," Prime ordered, and never had his voice sounded so commanding. Prowl was instantly silent. "I have always had the greatest of respect in your abilities and your reliability to follow the rules in order to keep everyone safe. Just because I choose to have faith in bots and forgive easily does not mean I am a naïve fool."

Prowl flinched, his gaze falling to the floor. He had never once thought of Optimus Prime as a naïve fool, but he could certainly see how one might come to such a conclusion.

Optimus revved deeply, a sound like rolling thunder. "I saw Sunstreaker's and Sideswipe's faceplates when they left. I've seen them devious, but that was not the case this time. They had the looks of bots assigned a mission."

"That is conjecture, sir," Prowl murmured quietly.

"I know what I saw." Prime's gaze flashed severely. "I want to trust you, Prowl. Everything inside me tells me that you are one the most trustworthy bots I have. But there is a very small part of me that worries that you are lying to me."

"Sir-!"

"Don't insult me anymore than you already have, Prowl. You sent the twins to go out after Jazz and Bluestreak, didn't you?"

Prowl said nothing. He lifted his chin, meeting the Prime's gaze with the blandest of all his stares. If he could not lie to the Prime, then he would say nothing at all.

"Prowl?" Optimus prompted, expecting an answer.

"Sir," Prowl replied evenly. He would say no more than that.

He had taken a calculated risk in selecting the twins to go after Jazz, equals parts calculation and gamble. They were the most capable and efficient of the Autobot warriors, despite their rampant brutality and unwillingness to listen to their superiors. They were no strangers to breaking rules; their absence could be more easily dismissed than it would be for anyone else. They did not fear Jazz and were unlikely to get in his way. As much as it pained Prowl to admit it, the twins were perfect candidates to be sent out as backup, but to inform anyone else of their purpose would be to sabotage their efforts.

The statistics had all been run, the logic justified, and the risk deemed manageable. It was all, of course, against every protocol in place to protect Autobots on missions such as this. No recon had been done, no backup plans in place, nothing. Prowl could very well lose his rank for his insubordination and putting others at risk. But he would not back down this time.

Optimus Prime met the tactician's stare and saw the determination brewing in those steady optics. Determination like that was a rarity to find, a stubbornness that was in equal parts gift and curse. The tactician would not be broken, even when everything warred within him to bow to the Prime. It was, perhaps, the very first time that Prowl had ever shown any evidence of outright defiance of any kind. As always, for all the tactician's actions, there would undoubtedly be a very good reason for his actions now. Optimus could only hope that the immense amount of faith he held in the bot was not misplaced.

After a few too-long moments staring each other down, Prime relented first. His shoulders dropped and air rushed out all of his vents. Prowl, on the hand, remained on guard.

"As you've said, this is all conjecture," Prime admitted quietly, though his voice resonated like a thunderstorm. A frown pulled at his mouthplates. "If you continue to say nothing, I will have only security footage against you. The footage only shows the twins leaving, which they easily could have done of their own free will."

There came nothing but silence to this announcement. Prowl could not decide if he should say anything or not.

Optimus directed a pointed stare to his tactical commander, both optic ridges arching. "Say nothing and I can do nothing."

Prowl could only manage the briefest of nods. The Prime was giving him an out? It seemed unlikely. However, he would take his chances. Perhaps his calculations of Prime's capacity for forgiveness were not incorrect?

"However," Prime continued, "should anything happen to the bots you've put at risk, I will hold you personally responsible."

For the longest moments, Prowl stood frozen to the spot, processing the situation he had forced himself into. Very stiffly, he bowed to the Prime. "That is… acceptable."

"I'm glad we have an understanding of the matter," Optimus said. "I can only hope that situations like this will not arise in the future. But if they do, I can hope that those involved will do a better job of hiding it from me." His stare lingered on Prowl for an astrosecond longer than necessary, then he turned on his heel and was gone from the office.

Prowl stared after the Prime in a stunned silence. Of all the outcomes he had expected… Well, he was grateful for an ending that did not result with him in the brig for insubordination. As it turned out, lying to the Prime was more difficult than he thought it would be. His processor now ached from the effort. Very slowly, he resumed his seat and tried to get back to work.

Prowl could only hope his own faith in Jazz was not sorely misplaced.

It was decided that the Neutrals would be dropped off at the nearest camp, where at the same time the twins and Bluestreak could be picked up and returned to Iacon. After the exchange, Jazz would be free to move on. The arrangement suited all parties. As it turned out, Moonracer and two of the other Neutrals were from the camp they were all headed to. With the news of their imminent return home, their moods brightened significantly. Those who were from different camps were simply content to be headed somewhere other than into Shockwave's care. Jazz never did elaborate on who Shockwave was, but all bots seemed to pick up on the fact that the bot with the yellow optic was bad news.

Their journey continued to be an abominably slow one. Driving would have been faster, but Bluestreak's condition prevented them using their alt modes. He was still severely mentally damaged from Jazz severing the memory loop. Although he appeared to recognize faceplates and voices now, he lived more in nightmares than reality. He didn't speak and he didn't recharge. His whimpering was constant; if he was left alone for too long, he would start to thrash violently. His motor controls also appeared to be effected, causing him to suffer seizure-like episodes at strange intervals. No one trusted the sniper to use his alt mode, so they were all bound to walk.

Much to everyone's surprise, Sunstreaker had volunteered to carry Bluestreak. It was disturbing, to say the least, to watch Sunstreaker act so out of character. The Neutrals only seemed to become more uneasy around him, suspecting that Sunstreaker would snap at any moment and kill Bluestreak. Jazz catalogued the behaviour, storing it for possible future blackmail.

The only bot who did not seem perturbed by the golden warrior's unusual thoughtfulness was Sideswipe, who did his best to pretend it wasn't happening. Outwardly, he remained nonchalant for the sake of his reputation. Secretly, he was happy. Long, long ago in their youth, Sunstreaker and Bluestreak had been lovers. There was a sad kindness about Sunstreaker that Sideswipe had thought died the orn Kaon had been bombed… the orn Megatron had taken something important away from the golden mech. Sideswipe would be damned if he ruined a rare moment of seeing his brother care again.

Jazz's attention, for the most part, was elsewhere. He stayed apart from the group, usually in a leading position. He kept an optic out for trouble, but mostly focused on the tracer Sideswipe had given him. Prowl had given his tracer to the twins. Damned, damned, damned Prowl who Jazz never wanted to think about again. He'd sent backup. Fragging tactician sent fragging backup. The twins, of all bots! If Sideswipe had been telling the truth about matters, then Prowl had risked his own rank to break the rules.

Jazz wasn't sure what he felt about that… aside from the coursing anger and frustration burning through him.

Other than that...?

Proud that Prowl had been able to do something so out-of-character?

Confused that the tactician would go this far at all?

Damn that fragger!

Why the hell did he have to use the Primus-damned tracer? He had assumed that Prowl would merely act himself and keep the fragging tracer hidden away like a good little bot and respect Jazz's need for isolation. But no! He just had to care! He just had to send the twins to make sure Bluestreak's rescue and return went all right. Urgh! What a mess caring got bots into. It made everything complicated- and not in a good way! It made Jazz want to hit something.

Bluestreak suddenly whimpered as if in pain, the noise loud enough so that everyone could hear. Jazz looked back without thinking about it. When he realized he was checking on the sniper, he snapped his head back around.

"Frag it," he spat.

He. Did. Not. Care.

One of the Neutrals squeaked as he heard Jazz's curse. "Is something the matter?"

"No!" Jazz barked, making the bot jump and scramble away. Several others including the twins stared for several breems after that. Jazz fixed his gaze ahead and steadily worked to ignore their staring. He brooded darkly over his fragged up situation. Soon enough, the others' attention diverted to other matters. He could hear Sideswipe's failing attempts to convince Moonracer that he and his brother were not complete monsters.

"We're honestly not that bad," said the red warrior. "We've had a hard life, that's all."

"I heard you tear the sparks out of Decepticons even after they beg for mercy," Moonracer replied sharply. Never once did she set her blaster down when she was in the presence of either twin. Jazz could tell that she was naturally a gentle bot with a soft demeanour, but she kept up the strong front because she was the unspoken leader of the Neutral group. She couldn't risk weakness in front of the twins. Her faith in Jazz, however, remained firmly intact. More the pity to her.

Sideswipe grimaced, glancing guiltily to his brother. "Yeah, well, they didn't deserve that much mercy…"

Moonracer shot him a caustic glare. "And you get to decide that because…?"

Sideswipe sighed. "This is war. It's either kill or be killed."

"Does that reasoning help you to recharge at night?"

"Not really, but it's all I have," Sideswipe replied, shoulders sagging. "Honestly, I'm trying here. Me and Sunny haven't hurt you guys. We're trying to help. Can't you give us a chance?"

Moonracer pursed her mouthplates, ultimately torn between wariness and persisting optimism. She wanted to believe the best in everyone. Although she wouldn't dare admit the fact, but she had met Sunstreaker once when he had been a sweet little youngling. He'd been the sweetest little thing! So tiny and quaint compared to the hulking miner's frame that she herself had used to inhabit. From all that she had heard of the twins in the present, that little flustered youngling was gone. They were terrible creatures now who did terrible things. Unforgivable things. Did she have enough in her to give monsters a chance?

She turned her sights on Jazz's back. "Prowl, what do you think? Should I give the murderers a chance?"

Jazz paused for a step, causing those who were following him to slow down. He glanced over his shoulder to discover that he had the attention of more than just Moonracer. He frowned at them and decided to keep walking, letting everyone else resume their trek.

"Ah think ya should be grateful," he grunted.

"For what?" Moonracer snorted.

"Instead of being alive, ya could be dead," said the saboteur. She had no idea how close she'd come several times to being dead. Jazz hands still itched occasionally when the femme ran her mouth too long.

Moonracer canted her head, suddenly realizing how lucky she was. Being alive did happen to be a lot better than being dead. She had to admit that she did owe the twins a bit of a debt, since they were the ones running patrols while 'Prowl' continued to work on Bluestreak's mind to keep him calm through the night. Sideswipe usually brought back energon by dawn. Everyone knew it was energon drained from dead frames, but no one said anything. Sunstreaker patrolled at night and carried Bluestreak during the orn. He never bothered anyone, even though he made everyone uncomfortable.

"I guess you're not so bad," the femme admitted, laughing very quietly. "Not as bad as Jazz, I guess. He'd probably kill us all, right?"

Jazz almost confirmed the fact, but stopped himself in time.

Sideswipe offered a guilty smile, glancing in his brother's direction. Sunstreaker snorted quietly, adjusting Bluestreak on his back before the sniper fell off. Sideswipe's gaze slid briefly to Jazz's back before returning to the green femme, rubbing the back of his neck lightly.

"You know, Moonracer, the thing about Jazz is…"

Moonracer's optics flashed. "You know him, don't you? He really is a monster, isn't he?"

Jazz found himself listening more attentively than he should have.

Sideswipe revved in discomfort. "It's not that. He's a lot to get used to, for sure, but…I don't think he's such a bad mech. At least, he not such a bad mech anymore," he said quietly, feeling like he had to say something. "Despite what you've heard, he's changed a lot."

It was the honest truth. The Jazz who first came to Iacon never would have bothered to go after someone like Bluestreak, let alone rescue a whole group of Neutrals. The Jazz back then- well, Sideswipe didn't want to think about what he might do. Maybe he would have been the one to torture them all and then kill them slowly for his own enjoyment. But this Jazz… It was hard for Sideswipe to pin him down into a single category. He wasn't all the way good, but he wasn't all the way bad, either. Having walked that fine line with his brother for a number of vorns, the red mech could definitely relate to that.

Moonracer looked incredulous.

"Let her think what she wants," Jazz intoned darkly.

"But-," Sideswipe began.

"Drop it, Sides," Sunstreaker murmured quietly.

"But Sunny," he whined.

Sunstreaker sighed. "Just… drop it."

Sideswipe opened his mouthplates, but then thought better of his words and said nothing at all. This was neither the time nor place for causing a scene. No one wanted the Neutrals to figure out who their saviour Prowl really was. It would cause too much of a scene for them all to handle. He resigned himself to trudge on without further word.

Moonracer exchanged arched looks with her fellow Neutrals, increasingly suspicious of the unusual mech called 'Prowl'. She supposed he was just a mercenary, but no Neutral mercenary she'd ever heard of had such commanding power over creatures like the twins. Prowl had never said it out loud that he was a mercenary, she just assumed it. It seemed wrong to trust someone who was an absolute stranger to her, yet she didn't have much of a choice, did she?

Jazz sensed the femme's stare, glancing over his shoulder to send her an arched looked through his visor. Moonracer met that stare for as long as she dared before she was forced to look away.

It was three orns before the edges of the Neutral camp came into sight.

The entirety of the three orns had been absorbed by slow moving and anxious silence. With every orn that passed, discomfort amongst the Neutrals became increasingly obvious as they realized their so-called rescuer and the twins were keeping something from them. Moonracer still kept up a brave front, struggling to maintain leadership over her fellow Neutrals. If this had been any other situation, she wouldn't have made much of a leader. Her nature was too soft, her desires that of a pacifist. Despite her growing doubts of who 'Prowl' really was, she wanted to trust in the minibot that had saved them.

Relief was palpable when the first shout went up from one of the warriors surrounding the camp. He came rushing out to greet the group, followed by several Neutrals who were overjoyed to have their family and friends returned to them. Predictably, the twins received a cold shouldered greeting from the camp the moment residents scanned their unusual spark signatures. Moonracer was not the only one to believe rumours. Jazz, however, was immediately assaulted by praise and grins when bots figured out he was the one to have rescued not only the Autobot but all of the Neutrals as well. Their praise only made Jazz's foul mood darker, forcing Sideswipe to run interference before something really bad happened.

Just outside the boundaries of the camp was a small ship balanced on the semi-collapsed roofs of several buildings, its dull grey hull matching its surroundings well. Had it been night, it would have blended in perfectly. In the light of orn, it managed to look like a gigantic grey wart sitting atop the buildings. Even from a distance, the ship was obviously Autobot design. The hatch was down, a red and white bot already zipping out- First Aid, no doubt. Someone else lurked in the hatchway, but their dark plating helped to camouflage them against the ship, their identity disguised.

In a matter of moments, First Aid was on the ground and rushing for their small group. He was forced to skirt around the small celebration that had started to bubble together, but he did smile for them and congratulate a few bots as he passed them. When he finally came upon the twins and Jazz, he showed no hesitation in beckoning Sunstreaker to lay Bluestreak out. The golden mech did as ordered, laying the sniper on the ground as carefully as possible. For a brief moment, Bluestreak cracked his optics open and looked up, but his gaze was unfocused and full of nightmares. He groaned as if in horrible pain, and then rolled over to curl into a tight ball. Scans roved the mech, following the motion of First Aid's hands as he ghosted over the sniper's frame.

"No physical damage," said the medic, peering up at the twins. "Did something happen to his processor?" His sky-blue optics lingered too long on Jazz, who stuck close to the scene for some reason. It was as if he were concerned for Bluestreak. That was curious. As far as First Aid knew, Jazz had never shown concern for anyone injured before- not openly, at least.

Jazz opened his mouthplates to say what afflicted Bluestreak, but closed his mouthplates before any noise came out. He sighed and looked away.

"Memory loop," Sunstreaker murmured quietly, his fists clenching tightly.

Sideswipe crouched down, stroking the side of Bluestreak's head gently. "Jazz severed the loop, but there's a lot of damage. He doesn't seem to be able to talk much or control his movements."

"The data for his lingual files and motor subroutines must be corrupted," First Aid sighed. "That's not good. Poor thing- his head must feel like it's on fire from the amount of data that must be displaced."

Sideswipe shuddered. "Ratchet will be able to fix him, right?"

First Aid scanned Bluestreak's head again carefully, frowning tightly. "I believe so. Ratchet is much better at unscrambling data than I am." From subspace, he pulled out an injector and a small vial of clear liquid. "I can administer something to knock him out until we get home, though." A panel of armour on Bluestreak's arm was pulled back, exposing an energon line through which the drug was administered. Immediately, Bluestreak's frame turned limp, his faceplate going lax. It was the first hint of peace seen on him in orns.

Once sure Bluestreak was calmed, First Aid rocked back on his heels and peered at the twins curiously, a question obvious in his stare. He wanted to know what they were doing there. Everyone in Iacon knew the twins had walked out, though no one knew the reason why. It wouldn't be the first time either one of them had gone their own way when it suited them, but this time was even more odd than the others since they weren't being their normal untouchable selves. They had Bluestreak, which meant they had gone after the mech. The twins had done something good, for once.

Sideswipe caught on to the medic's wondering stare, sighing at it. "What are they saying back in Iacon, First Aid?"

The medic shrugged. "You'll be living in the brig until the sky falls down, is what I've heard the most. There are other things, like bots saying you both finally defected to the Decepticons and slag like that." He gave one low, small laugh. "Heard a rumour that Prowl sent you out, but it was so ridiculous that I barely listened."

"Yeah, ridiculous," the red mech murmured.

For once, the Autobot rumour mill wasn't that far from the mark. Thank Primus, the truth was just so insane that no one could believe it. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker were too smart to glance back at Jazz. Such a move might alert First Aid to something unusual.

"But, well, yeah..." First Aid sighed, petting Bluestreak gently. "You're in the usual kind of trouble you get into for being yourselves."

Sideswipe shrugged. "That's nothing new."

First Aid nodded, feeling awkward to be so near the twins when they were perfectly healthy. Most times he ever found himself near them was when they were dying in the med bay after they'd gone insane on the battlefield. Generally speaking, they were usually unconscious and in pieces whenever he was within arms' length of them. He could count on one hand the number of times he'd ever had a reasonable conversation with them. Ratchet was the one who maintained a volatile love-hate relationship with the twins.

Sideswipe must have realized the same thing, because he rocked back on his heels and straightened to his full height. "So... we gonna move Blue or what?"

Sunstreaker murmured something quietly, the tips of his claws tracing along Bluestreak's head. "We should get back to Iacon as soon as possible," he said.

"Right, of course, we really should move out," First Aid said quickly, snapping to his feet. "You'll be able to carry him to the ship, yes?" His gaze zipped from one twin to the other.

Without a word, Sunstreaker took the sniper into his arms and started off for the ship. Sideswipe revved for a moment, watching his brother go. His bright optics slid to Jazz for a moment, his gaze shrewd. It lasted for only a moment, and then he turned on his heel and followed after his brother to make sure Bluestreak was settled on the ship properly.

First Aid was suddenly left standing in the middle of a strange place, caught between following the twins to the safety of the ship and wondering if Jazz was going to join them. Ratchet had mentioned that Jazz had cut his ties with the Autobots, but the way the saboteur was just standing there...

"Um, Jazz?" First Aid intoned.

The silver mech started, as if startled from his thoughts. He never retracted his visor, but First Aid was suddenly aware that he was being glared at. The medic immediately backed down a step, bowing his optics to the ground. There was a lost wildness lingering about the saboteur that reminded First Aid of that first frightening time he had ever seen Jazz. It had been at the tail end of a rescue mission, only the team he'd been on was the one picking Prowl up out of Straxis. Over a vorn ago, in fact. Jazz looked just as fierce as he did that orn, maybe a little more so with energon still clinging to him in places. Only now First Aid saw him in a different light- less like the villain and not quite a monster. Definitely not the hero, though. Somewhere in between, he guessed. Feral, yet retaining a modicum of... tameness.

Or maybe he was just being stupid.

"So, um, are you coming back with us?" First Aid wondered.

Jazz paused for a moment, his head tilting ever so slightly. His attention drifted to the Autobot ship for a moment, then returned to First Aid. He opened his mouthplates to say something, then thought better of it. He heaved a sigh and said, "never mind," more to himself than to anyone else. He turned on his heel and started to walk away.

First Aid accepted the fact that Jazz was not an Autobot, perfectly willing to let the bot be on his way, but something had to be said before he left and was never seen again. "Wait, Jazz!"

Jazz stopped suddenly, turning to regard him coolly. "Say mah designation a little louder, why don't ya? Ya lookin' ta start a mass panic or something?"

First Aid instantly covered his mouthplates. "Oh," he squeaked between his fingers. "Oh, I wasn't thinking... sorry."

The saboteur rolled his optics, though the gesture was invisible behind his visor. "Ya wanted ta say something?"

"Yeah, yeah I did... You did a good thing," said the medic. It was the first thing to pop into his head. Jazz had done a good thing and it deserved to be said out loud. "If you hadn't rescued Blue when you did, that memory loop probably would have destroyed him. If you hadn't of gone after him, Bluestreak might very well have died before an Autobot team could have gotten to him. "

"Ah probably did just as much damage by severing the loop," Jazz pointed out. "He's probably dead already, even if his spark still beats."

"At least now we have a chance to save him. Thanks to you, he's with his side again. He can be cared for now. You did that. You gave him a chance," First Aid insisted, feeling silly and a little bit in danger the longer he talked. "You're a better bot than you give yourself credit for."

Jazz bristled for a moment, scowling. "Whatever," he muttered before turning on his heel and leaving.

First Aid watched him go until he could no longer see a flash of silver armour amongst the buildings. With a shake of his head, the medic transformed and headed back for the ship, eager to return home.

Feeling the need for violence come up and choke him, Jazz lashed out. His clenched fist impacted on the battered wall. He felt the metal of his fingers buckle. The insides of his hand turned to fire. The wall suffered less damage, only a slight dent for his efforts.

"Damn it!" he cursed viciously.

His fist lashed out again, striking the wall. He did it again and again until he was forced to turn off the neural receptors in his hand. Energon leaked out from a split energon line, running down the dark silver metal and dripping from the ends of his claws. Because it was his own energon that decorated his hand, he took no delight in the image. He still felt the bristling need to hit something, to hurt something, but he could scarcely use his hand anymore. The damages were too severe to allow him to close his fist properly. But still the choking feeling that gripped him from the inside out did not abate. Perhaps he could use his undamaged hand to keep assaulting anything that came within arm's reach? He wanted to so desperately, but didn't like the idea of leaving himself open and helpless with two hands messed up.

Things weren't going his way at all!

Above the crooked line of the roofs towering around him, Jazz could still make out the top of the Autobot ship. It hadn't left yet. It was still sitting there like some sort of dark, malignant tumour. Even if it was something bad for him, he couldn't resist the pull he felt. A tug that made him want to take a step toward the ship instead of a step away.

He wanted to return-

NO!

He did not want to go back.

As if to defy him directly, the Autobot ship never did leave. It continued to sit there for a joor, and then longer. It sat so innocently, daring him like a poisoned cube of fine high-grade... come a little closer... what harm would it do...? He wanted something he couldn't let himself have. Too many risks. Too many unknowns. Not enough control.

If the taunting of the ship was not enough, the sounds of celebration leeched into the air all around him. It was a quiet party, since the Neutrals were too wary of drawing too much outside attention to their camp, but it was music and laughter nonetheless. Jazz could hear the name Prowl being murmured appreciatively by more than a few bots. They still thought he was a good bot, still thought he was a hero. What would they think if they knew his real designation? He would no longer be the hero, that was for sure.

Why the pit did he use that stupid designation in the first place?

Prowl.

The source of all his problems.

Damn that screwed up, emotionally handicapped, too-logical-for-his-own-good fragger! Damn everything about him! Damn his ordinary faceplate and his plain grey paint; damn his diamond-sharp optics and too-quick mind; damn those almost-smiles he wore when they were mentally sparring with each other. Damn everything about him, because he was everything that Jazz was not.

He was not Prowl. Nothing like Prowl. He was-

"Jazz?"

Reacting by pure instinct, Jazz swung around and slammed into the taller frame that had snuck up behind him. There was a brief flash of a surprised faceplate; pale optics like ice and armour the colour of angry storm clouds. He knew exactly who it was. He'd known from the moment he had seen the distant silhouette standing in the open hatch of the Autobot ship. The moment the mech had drawn close enough, his spark resonance had set off all sorts of alarms in Jazz's head. Now storm-grey armour ground against unrelenting silver as he rammed the bot into the wall he'd been assaulting earlier.

The attack was too easy, too clean, too easily executed. Prowl did not bother to put up a fight. He let himself be violently managed, subdued in the brutal fashion the saboteur chose. Jazz pressed his forearm into the tactician's neck, pinning him to the spot. He leaned his weight into the assault. A deep growl rolled from him, completely feral and laced with rampant frustration.

"Ah should kill you," he snarled lowly, breathing the words into Prowl's audios.

"Should you?" Prowl wondered. "Is that what you really want?" He almost sounded calm, like his normal unaffected self, but there was a shudder to his voice that belied his discomfort. It was rather difficult to speak when there was an unrelenting forearm forced into the space where his vocal processor normally worked.

"Ah should kill you," Jazz repeated, purring and growling at the same time. "Right here, right now. If you're dead, ya won't be able ta bother meh no more." He wanted it so badly he could taste it. But then he also didn't want it. The thought made him want to recoil. It was a war inside him.

"There are a lot of things that we should do, but we do not always do what is best for us, do we?" Prowl replied lowly. He could see the madness dancing at the corners of Jazz's consciousness. He could feel the erratic energy thrumming in the air, too much like how the saboteur had been when they had first met. Jazz had been given a taste of the world he'd once known, and like the worst of any rehabilitated addict, the burn of the addiction had come rushing back with the first taste.

"Like this?" Jazz hissed. "You comin' here after meh? That's no good for either of us."

"Yes, exactly like this," Prowl murmured.

Jazz pressed against the tactician's neck harder, eliciting a desperate choking sound. In every place where his frame pinned Prowl's, energy thrummed through him. Heat and challenge. It was like hot, burning, searing electricity vibrating through every inch of his neural net. If he held on for too long, his paint might blister off from the heat of it. He pressed a little closer again, and this time it was not entirely to keep hurting Prowl.

Prowl's frame trembled for a moment. His optics dimmed as increasing pressure in his neck started to disrupt computing power in his processor. Shaking hands came up, but did not try to rip Jazz's arm away. He simply let his hands rest there, allowing for Jazz to come to whatever decision he internally warred with himself to make. Under his palms, he felt the silver armour vibrating, tense and burning hot beneath his touch.

Jazz glared. Prowl stared.

Without warning, the pressure on Prowl's neck released. Jazz swung away, stalking down the alley. Dizzy by the suddenness of his freedom, Prowl dropped and stumbled, searching for a steady ledge to grab hold of. His free hand came up to grasp the damages Jazz left behind. Not the worst to have ever happened to him, for sure. The metal was simply shirked into unusual angles, something that he could fix on his own the moment he got his hands on a mirror and his personal repair kit. Turning off his neural relays in the area relieved him of any discomfort.

Six steps away, Jazz spun around to face Prowl again. Their gazes collided like thunder and lightning. Of its own accord, Jazz's visor snapped up so that his searing white gaze could burn into Prowl's ice-blue one. Even though they weren't touching, electricity still zapped between them.

"Why are ya here?" Jazz demanded, barely able to spit the words out without snarling. His good hand clenched, the urge to strike again building up. He wanted to punch Prowl in the faceplate. That would probably make him feel a lot better. He also wanted to pin Prowl again, rip into his head and steal every thought the mech every tried to hide; he wanted answers and he wanted them now!

"I couldn't stay in Iacon," Prowl replied, his voice turned hoarse from the rough treatment of his vocal processor. Low and gritty.

"Why?" Jazz pressed, unsatisfied with such an answer.

"Because..." His gaze gaze dipped to Jazz's damaged hand. He frowned at the sight of it. Energon still leaked out, but the flow was beginning to staunch. Streaks of blue congealed along the metal. Slowly his gaze came back up to meet the saboteur's. "Because you were here."

Jazz cut a furious gesture through the air. "Ya shouldn't have bothered! Ah'm done with ya!"

Prowl's optic's flashed, his mouthplates thinning into a tight line. His hands clenched into fists. "And what if I was not done with you?"

Jazz snarled. "Ya wasted your time."

"Did I really?"

"Yes!" His vents were heaving, every slate of armour on his frame bristling. "Ah refuse ta become something Ah'm not, Prowl! Ah'm not like you! Ah will not become an Autobot!"

Prowl curled his mouthplates into a subtle sneer, something that neither bot had ever thought him capable of. "You're just scared."

Like a flash, the distance between them closed again. Expecting the attack, Prowl managed to counter just in time. This time, it was Jazz who found himself up against the wall. His chest smashed into the unforgiving surface while the long, hard length of Prowl's frame pressed up against his back. He was pinned, his wrists manacled by Prowl's hands, his legs forced apart by the tactician's so that he remained off-balance. For once, it appeared the intensity of Prowl's emotions was giving him the strength for such outright violence. Strength and determination radiated off him in waves. Jazz tested his bonds, fury powering his struggle. Prowl held steady, pinning him harder.

"Ah'm really gonna kill ya for this," Jazz said darkly, turning his faceplate so that he could glare at the looming bot behind him.

"You'll want to, but I doubt you'll ever follow through." Prowl lowered his mouthplates to Jazz's audio. "I know the reason you keep running away, why you resist everything I have done for you. You're scared of what you don't understand."

"The frag Ah am!" Like a feral animal, Jazz twisted and snarled. It seemed the wildness he'd unleashed in the Decepticon encampment had not completely left him yet. Too many thoughts whirled through is mind. He wanted to get loose so he could do a thousand terrible things to Prowl. Rip him apart and string his innards up so everyone could see what he'd done. He wanted to finally win the Primus-damned contest between them. Most of all, he wanted the confusion to end. He wanted his fascination with the tactician to wither and die so that there was nothing else on Cybertron to distract him.

"You've never had someone who is your intellectual equal before," Prowl continued, his hoarse voice growling lowly. It vibrated against Jazz's armour, making him feel lightheaded. The metal on the side of his head turned hot where the vents in Prowl's neck breathed out. "You've never had someone who does not fear you, who seeks to challenge but not to destroy you. You've never known kindness, nor have you ever known friendship. You fear them because they are not part of the world you are from. They are weaknesses because you do not understand their strengths."

A cruel laugh burst from between Jazz's mouthplates. "That's rich coming from ya- the mech who buries everything and wishes ta feel nothing!"

Prowl pressed harder against the smaller bot, not enough to hurt but enough to get his point across. "At least I sought to correct my failings."

"And Ah tried ta correct mine- by getting away from ya!" On the last word, a massive magnetic pulse exploded from Jazz's hands. It was enough to shock Prowl's systems, forcing his hands to release the saboteur's wrists. The silver bot took advantage of the surprise, spinning around to first punch Prowl in the faceplate like he so desperately wanted to, and then knocking Prowl to the ground so he could be pinned. An energon-stained blade primed in a vital area kept the tactician down.

"Why can't ya leave meh alone? Let meh get on with mah life!" Jazz snarled.

Prowl stared up from his vulnerable position, but no fear flashed in his optics. There was only a storm there, so many thoughts and emotions that he could not sort one from the other. "I refuse to let the last vorn of my life be for nothing. We've made so much progress-."

"Progress!" A sharp, bitter laugh burst from Jazz. A cruel, crazed sound that bit into the air like glass shards. He spread his arms wide, displaying the gore that still stuck to him. Energon and ash smeared his handsome frame. "This is where your so-called progress got ya! The moment Ah had the chance, Ah slaughtered every bot Ah could get mah hands on. This is who Ah am! That won't change!"

"And why were you there in the first place, Jazz? You were there to help someone! You saved several lives of your own volition, Autobot and Neutral alike. I call that change." The blueness of Prowl's optics glinted and glittered, more emotion there than Jazz had ever seen before. "You're not the monster you think you are!"

Jazz bristled, the hand clenching around the hilt of his blade spasming. "Mute it! Mute it or Ah swear ta Primus Ah'll rip your mouthplates off!"

Heedless of the threat, the tactician continued. He propped himself up on his elbows, unable to sit any higher with Jazz's weight still baring down on his torso. "When I heard that you went after Bluestreak, I made a decision. I wasn't going to throw away everything we've done for each other just because you're afraid. You don't think I'm wary of where this arrangement might lead? I am. The difference is that I am willing to take that risk. I took chances for you. I broke rules for you. I risked my rank to send you backup."

Jazz leaned away, scowling. "You're a fool."

A single hand came up and grasped Jazz's wrist steadily, holding him in place so that he did not leave. "A fool, perhaps, but a determined one. You wanted my trust when we started this, and you have had my trust for longer than I care to admit. Now I ask that you trust me." His grip on Jazz's wrist tightened. "Come back to Iacon with me. You don't have to throw away everything you've done in the last vorn."

"Ah can't," Jazz hissed, his whole frame tense. "Ah won't be less than what Ah am."

"Did you ever think that in becoming an Autobot, you might become more than what you are?"

Jazz said nothing at all, seething in silence.

Prowl opened his mouthplates to say something more, but the approach of a spark resonance distracted both bots. A quick tip-tap of footsteps echoed through the alley. Moonracer's green form appeared in the narrow opening between the buildings.

"Prowl- oh!" She stopped dead, optics widening as she took in the scene. Jazz looked feral and ready to kill as he straddled an unknown Autobot. The Autobot had one of Jazz's wrists shackled, while Jazz's free hand clutched at a blade. The air was electric, their magnetic fields flaring so powerfully that the sensation tingled against the femme's plating.

"Can I help you?" Prowl enquired, his voice returned to a mild tone that contrasted wildly with the absurd situation he was in.

Moonracer's gaze switched to Jazz. "I was worried when I didn't see you around the camp. I wondered why the Autobots wouldn't leave. I came looking for you..." She glanced at the stained blade in Jazz's hand. "Is everything alright, Prowl?"

Prowl canted his head, curious why the femme kept looking at Jazz. He was made even more curious of the way that Jazz's frame tensed atop of him. "Everything is fine. We were just having an... intense discussion."

Moonracer pursed her mouthplates. "I, um, wasn't talking to you..." she said lamely.

Perhaps it was the intensity of his exchange with Jazz that addled his processor, or simply that the absurdity of the idea made it complete incomprehensible, but it did not occur to Prowl that Jazz might have been using his designation as a cover. So, trying to make sense of the confusion of the situation, he said, "There must be some sort of misunderstanding. I am Prowl."

"No, that's Prowl," said Moonracer, pointing to Jazz.

"You are mistaken, I am Prowl. This is..." Prowl trailed off, realizing that Jazz most likely would not have used his real designation. He looked to the saboteur enquiringly, hoping to surmise the identity he'd been using. It still did not occur to him that Jazz would be absurd enough to call himself Prowl.

Jazz hissed, knowing his cover was finally blown. He turned to Moonracer and stared straight into her optics. He was finally getting what he wanted, smashing that pathetic idea she had of him as a hero. "Remember when Ah said ya were lucky ta be alive? Ah really meant it. Ya don't know how many times Ah came close ta snuffing ya out."

She played the words over in her head. Dawning realization crept across her faceplate. He saw the slow transformation from ignorance to knowing. Tension laced through her frame, then a shudder passed through her. Fear filled her optics as she realized how close she had truly come to death. Her hand shot to her mouthplates, trying to smother the shaking gasp that spilled from between her fingers.

"J-Jazz."

"That's right, the monster himself."

Panic and terror shot through every molecule of the femme.

Prowl shoved himself into a complete sitting position, manoeuvring Jazz to the side. "No, wait, there's no need to panic-."

Too late. With a fluttering sound like a cross between a scream and a sob, Moonracer turned on her heel and fled from the mouth of the alley. No doubt she was off to inform the Neutrals of who really lurked among them. Or maybe she would find a dark corner somewhere and cry for a bit. It was not every orn that one discovered they had been only a breath away from death, after all. A mass panic of the entire camp was only a matter of time.

Jazz turned an accusing stare on Prowl. "It's almost like ya planned that."

"If I did, it would have been better executed," Prowl replied wryly. He arched both optic ridges. "You used my designation as your disguise?"

"It was the first one ta pop into mah head," Jazz snorted.

They sat on the dirty ground of the alley for an awkward moment, shifting uneasily in each other's company. They suddenly found no desire to take up their interrupted fight. The urge had been wiped from them, replaced by the odd familiarity they found in each other.

"Guess Ah can't stay here no more," Jazz said absently.

"No, I suppose not."

Jazz pushed to his feet, brushing himself off. He stared down at Prowl still on the ground, then extended his hand to him. The tactician stared at the offer for a brief moment before accepting.

"Let's go," Jazz sighed.

"Where?"

"Where do ya think?" the saboteur sighed in resignation.

"Home," Prowl said, a soft statement rather than a question.

"If that's what ya want ta call it," Jazz shrugged. "Ah just don't have any place better ta be at the moment."

Prowl almost smiled while Jazz nearly scowled. Without a word, the tactician turned to lead the way back to the ship. It took an astrosecond, but Jazz finally conceded to follow.