My goodness, it is hard to believe that this story only recently reached it's one thousandth review! When I published the first chapter to this story one fateful evening in December two (almost three!) years ago, I never imaged how wildly popular it would become. I am beyond honoured that so many people have come to read this story and leave a little something behind to let me know I'm doing my job right. I love it when I get to hear from all of my readers; you guys are what make writing this story worth it. One thousand reviews simply blows my mind.
The distinct honour of being my one thousandth reviewer belongs to NightBlooming Orchid. You are too wonderful, my dear.
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Chapter 28
As much as Jazz was loath to stay in his little cage of an office, he found that he had little else where he wished to be ever since his botched encounter with Prowl several orns before. There was no other place that held appeal to him, even the places that had once been his favoured haunts; the Observation Deck, the roofs of the ruined buildings beyond Iacon's walls, the courtyards. There was almost a repulsion to be in such places. More than that, he wished to be alone with his brooding thoughts in his cage of an office, which to his knowledge was an absolute first for him. It was normally the noise and distraction of outside forces that he sought so that his private thoughts did not take over like they did in the silence.
Even Firestar had been dismissed from her usual lurking when Jazz could no longer tolerate her presence. She had not taken to her dismissal lightly. Indeed, she had objected with the usual flare one would come to expect from someone so overtly flashy and accustomed to attention. Nevertheless, she was forced to accept her dismissal when Jazz had actually raised his voice at her and made it a direct order for her to be away from him immediately or else he would report her as a nuisance to Elita One.
Jazz did not want to dwell on the fact that he had both lost his cool to an inferior being and had failed to deliver a proper threat laced with his usual flare for bodily harm. Report her to Elita One? Who did he think he was- a commander or something? He wanted to purge.
Firestar had been as shocked as he was to hear such a direct and uncreative order. Perhaps for that very reason, she had left Jazz's company quietly and thoroughly disturbed.
Since that time when he had ordered Firestar away, none came to see him bar Bluestreak, who was showing progress in his recovery every orn that passed. Usually in the company of either Ratchet or the twins, the sniper came for only short periods of time to sit in the uncomfortable chair across from Jazz's desk and smile vaguely for several breems. Once or twice, he attempted to babble, though his lingual files remained in such a state of disrepair that he usually only managed a few comprehensible words among a cascade of noise. His movements were much more coordinated, perceptibly improving every orn; when in alt mode, he could drive slowly through the halls. When standing on two legs, his balance was not the best, but he could walk with the support of another to help him. He appeared capable of remembering several past events, because his babbling would occasionally refer to 'Crystal City', several different shades of blue, 'Sunny'n'Sides', as well as repeated use of the word 'thank you.'
Bluestreak was the only company that Jazz made effort to tolerate for a limited time. For anyone else, Jazz found himself increasingly irritated and simply wanted them gone. For Bluestreak, he masked his foul mood in order to host a facade that would not upset the fragile bot who insisted on visiting. While Bluestreak did not say much during their meetings, Jazz said very little at all. He would smile and nod when Bluestreak came and then smile and nod when he left. It was up to whomever was presiding over the sniper to inform Jazz without prompting the details of Bluestreak's continued miraculous recovery, though their exchanges were stilted and brief since they could sense Jazz's impatience to be alone again.
What constituted the rest of Iacon base had decided to give the saboteur as wide a berth as possible. They were nearly as cautious as they had been when Jazz had first come to them, even though a complete reversal in Jazz's behaviour had been noted. As of late, there had been no thefts to be reported, no mischief made that could be directly linked, nor even the slightest blip on the radar to announce that Jazz had any interest in bothering anyone. He wished for everyone to avoid him, and he wished to avoid everyone.
One bot in particular he did not wish to see, to whom he had not exchanged a word since... the unfortunate incident in the training room.
Looking on the bright side, Jazz had accomplished so much work in such a little amount of time due to his unnatural fixation with locking himself away from the general population that he had probably broken several of his own personal records.
On the dark side, he was slowly driving himself insane. Again.
There came a knock at the door to announce a break in the monotony of work and his own personal demons slowly consuming his self-awareness and lucid comprehension. Jazz stared at the door suspiciously, knowing that Bluestreak was not due for a visit for another couple of joors.
"Jazz, I know you're in there," said Blackhawk, clear and calm through the metal door.
"Ah know Ah'm in here, too," Jazz replied, though he did not bother to give any further recognition of the Special Ops commander.
"May I come in to speak with you?" the other bot asked.
"No," Jazz said curtly. He continued to work on whatever he was working, though he found that he had little idea of what it was. Just a report about something, lacking in his usual flair and veiled insults that he usually liked to include. Boring, uninteresting, mundane work that he wasn't even forcing himself to do. Obviously there was something terribly, horribly, disturbingly wrong with him if he was okay with doing grunt work.
"Ah, that's too bad," Blackhawk sighed through the door. "I have every intention of speaking with you regardless."
"Ya can suck exhaust while you're at it," Jazz grumbled mulishly.
Blackhawk said something, but it was so low that Jazz did not catch the words. It was obvious that the commander had no intention of heeding anyone but his own interests at the moment. He did not bother to attempt the lock on the door, assuming Jazz had already applied his special touch to it. Instead, he unsheathed the sword at his back, the one that marked him as a student of the art of diffusion rather than circuit-su, and rammed the blade gracelessly into the spark of the control panel. A quick twist of the blade ensured maximum damage to the panel. The door shushed open moments later without any form of resistance.
"Do ya normally pick a lock like that?" Jazz asked dryly, watching as the fellow saboteur sheathed his weapon once more.
"As a matter of fact, no," Blackhawk replied calmly. "Usually I am a little more graceful. However, you have a talent for bringing out recklessness in many individuals."
"Yay for meh," Jazz said. "Now that ya have thoroughly ruined the lock and mah office now stinks of burning polymer, ya can go away now."
"After all the effort it took to come in here? I think not," said the Autobot. "I did have a purpose for coming here, not only to ruin your mood." Though the door was wide open, he did not enter. He never entered. Jazz doubted it was from distrust, since the commander displayed a notable amount of investment in him whenever Jazz was given an important task to fulfil for the Autobots. Jazz had long ago concluded that Blackhawk's reluctance to enter any small, confined spaced where Jazz was cooped up in was simply a personal quirk.
Jazz's gaze sharpened behind his visor, a frown tugging at the corners of his mouthplates. "Do ya have something for meh ta do?"
Preferably something that would involve getting away from base and be alone from living [storm-grey] company for a while.
"Not quite," Blackhawk sighed, propping his shoulder against the door frame.
"If it's not a mission, than get away from meh. Ah got better things ta do." He pointedly reached for the keyboard of his computer and resumed a furious typing pace that appeared to be more of an assault on the poor piece of office equipment.
Blackhawk scowled at Jazz's forced activity. "You are driving yourself insane in here," he said with a thread of concern in his voice. It was one of the few times he was not coolly detached from a conversation.
"Who says Ah ain't loving every moment of it?" Jazz sneered.
"Prowl may know you best, Jazz, but the rest of us are hardly blind." He sighed, adjusting the dull black gauntlets on his forearms. "I have no idea what happened between you and Prowl, but whatever it is, you shouldn't punish yourself by locking yourself away. Especially isolating yourself. You and I both know nothing good will come of that."
Jazz still did not look up from his work. He remembered how easily Prowl had seen through that one weakness of his, even after having only known each other for such a short amount of time. It had been the first time he'd gone to the Observatory Deck, as well as the first time he had ever been allowed inside Prowl's mind...
He shook his head and dismissed the thought.
"Ah've been working just fine, thanks. Ah don't need no caretaker looming over meh while Ah work."
Blackhawk was not to be dissuaded so easily. "You upset Firestar terribly by sending her away so nicely. She said you were, and a I quote, 'heinously polite and disgustingly upstanding'." He cracked a half-smile. "As it was told to me by Chromia, it cannot even be described how upset she was that you had not threatened bodily harm."
"That is one twisted femme," Jazz muttered with a soft curse.
"I would have to agree with you- she is a... unique creature." He said 'unique' the same way he might have said 'utterly bizarre'. "However, I do think she has a point in this case. It is not like you to be heinously polite and disgustingly upstanding. It's obvious whatever transpired between yourself in Prowl-."
"-is none of your business," Jazz cut in with definite menace in his tone.
Blackhawk paused, drawing back a fraction. He pressed his mouthplates together, realizing that he would have to tread carefully if he wished to continue the conversation. He did not want to draw his sword again to defend himself should he take a verbal misstep, but the topic of Jazz and Prowl's 'partnership' was a minefield threatening to explode with little provocation.
"Yes, of course. It is none of my business what happened between the two of you," said the Special Ops commander cautiously. "I merely meant to point out that the current rift between you two is distressing to the rest of base."
Jazz's optics flashed, his scowl deepening. "Don't ya all have better things ta do than twitter about the private lives of two bots?"
"I wish that were the case," Blackhawk responded.
It was not just Jazz's behaviour that gave rise to anxieties around base. Ironically, decreased activity from the saboteur seemed to have the opposite of a reassuring effect now; bots became concerned of the possibility of a bottling effect, which, upon reaching critical mass, would explode outward violently. There was also Prowl's recent behaviour that drew concern. He acted the same and yet different. His mannerisms were stiffer, his exchanges a little more curt than usual. Where there had once been hints of subtle improvements in the tactician's disposition- a sociability no one had known existed in him- it was as if he had spontaneously taken several steps backwards until he was nearly intolerable now.
Jazz cursed softly.
Blackhawk dared a single step into the room, more than he had ever dared before. It showed the depth of his unspoken concern for Jazz. Carefully, measuring each word spoken, he said, "You have no wish to discuss it?"
"Even if Ah did, what makes ya think Ah'd want ta discuss it with you?"
"A hunch," replied Blackhawk, causing Jazz to finally look up at him. It was then that the commander offered yet another crooked half-smile, one that was not as handsome as Prowl's.
"We're not friends," Jazz stated flatly, glaring.
"We are colleagues," Blackhawk intoned. "I am very adept at keeping secrets, Jazz. If at any time you feel the need to speak with someone, I am available." He figured this was as far as he dared to push the subject. Any farther and he might end up with a fight on his hands. Or, worse yet, Jazz would decide that sticking around was no longer worth the effort and he would simply leave. Should that happen, he would not come back. Quietly, he backed his way into the hall, since old habits prevented him from turning his back on Jazz.
Jazz sighed, ceasing his assault on the keyboard. He shoved it away from himself as if disgusted by its existence.
Blackhawk halted his retreat, sensing the sudden shift in the silver bot.
"Ah might have seen something in Prowl Ah wasn't supposed ta see," Jazz murmured.
"Ah," said Blackhawk, coming back into the room deep enough to allow the door to close behind him. He had intentionally trapped himself for the sake of privacy- such was his respect and concern for Jazz. "How so?"
Jazz chose his words carefully. "Ah was looking for something ta test Prowl with. A memory that would... trigger something in him."
"Trigger?"
"Ah won't discuss that part," Jazz stated. He had already hurt Prowl; he would not do it again by betraying the secrets he kept for the tactician. "What matters is that Ah ended up seeing a part of him he didn't want meh ta see." And now all he could think about was what he had seen. What he had heard. What he had felt. The arch of Prowl's frame. The sound of his cries and moans. The heat of the fire raging inside him... both the passionate and fury-driven.
"He warned meh, but Ah didn't listen." He looked down at his hands. "Ah wanted ta push him ta make him stronger, but Ah hurt him instead."
The gentle scrape of the chair had Jazz looking up again, watching as Blackhawk sat down. The commander's expression was subtle mixture of understanding and sympathy. The mismatched colours of his optics glittered dimly.
"We always hurt the ones we care for," said the mech.
Jazz opened his mouthplates to give his retort, then found he did not have the words to refute such a statement. A strange feel rolled through him as he realized that he did care for Prowl. Cared that he had done something wrong to him. Cared that he had hurt the mech. Cared that Prowl was probably still hurting. He just didn't know what to do about it.
Blackhawk leaned forward. The sheath of his sword clicked against the back of the chair with the movement. "I am not too familiar with how students are trained in circuit-su, but I do know that in the mastery of diffusion a student is forced to face many difficulties in order to become a master."
"Ah know all about the slag a student gotta go through ta get somewhere," Jazz intoned darkly.
"Something tells me that you know better than most," Blackhawk said shrewdly. He placed his fingers on the edge of the desk; he didn't dare reach across to lay his hand above Jazz's. "Keep in mind that sometimes it is the master who discovers he still has things to learn." He leaned back again, putting a polite distance between the two of them. "If Prowl is half as smart as I believe him to be, he will have the presence of mind to know that you had the best of intentions for him. If he is to become improved, he will have to suffer first. We all do. And as for you..." His optics glinted coolly. "You did what you set out to do. You wanted a reaction and you got one, just not the one you were expecting."
No, certainly not the one Jazz had been expecting.
Blackhawk rose from his seat and brushed himself off. "I trust that you and Prowl will be able to work through this. In the meantime, please try to not brood so darkly on your own. You frighten the rest of us mere mortals when you do." Once again, he politely backed his way out of the room.
"That's it?" Jazz wondered, watching the other bot leave.
"That's all I dare to say," Blackhawk replied. He made it into the hall, standing just beyond the doorway. "If, by any chance, you are in the mood for company this evening, members of my division as well as myself will be meeting in Nebula One this evening. You'll have to bring your own chair and energon, but at least you will not be alone."
"Thanks for the offer, but-." He was cut off as communications channel beeped inside his head. "Give meh a moment." He opened the channel, receiving Blaster's voice in his head.
"Got something interesting for ya," said the microbot. "There's a bot outside the compound gates saying she needs to speak with ya."
"Ah didn't know assassins knocked nowadays," Jazz drawled.
"Looks like nothing but a little Neutral," Blaster informed. "Green femme calling herself Moonracer. She says ya know her and that it's important."
Jazz felt surprise race through him.
"Just thought you might like ta know," Blaster intoned.
"Keep her at the gates," Jazz said, bordering on an order. "Ah'll go see what she wants."
"Well, alright then." The channel cut out.
Jazz stood and made his way to the door. He opened his mouthplates to offer a few words to Blackhawk, only to find that the bot was already gone. Deciding it wasn't worth it to linger on the bot, Jazz pressed on without looking back. He cut his way through the halls and noted that more than a few curious optics turned his way, but there was not the usual sparkle of interest or veil of fear in their gaze. It was more like they were concerned.
Jazz walked faster and let their expressions blur together so he needn't see a single one clearly.
The air outside was cool and smelled of exhaust from the extensive training session the aerials were hosting above the compound. The sound of them cutting over the base at supersonic speeds mixed booming explosions of breaking the sound barrier with the screaming of their high-performance engines. It was all the familiar sounds one came to associate with living on an active base. There was an odd sense of comfort and continuity with how undisturbed average life continued to carry on. As Jazz came across the wide expanse of the main yard between the building he had been in at the front of the large base, the bots in the outposts that lined the gates came out. One or two waved to Jazz; Jazz did not wave back.
Powerglide circled overhead and then dipped down, transforming to land gracefully on top of the reinforced wall. He looked down at the Neutral on one side, then down to Jazz on the other. "You got some good looking company," announced the flier.
"Ah don't care what she looks like," Jazz called back. He didn't bother to wait for the gates to crack open. Instead, he walked into the gatehouse built into the wall and came out on the other side of the wall. Dogfight, who had been manning the gatehouse for a shift, was smart enough not to react to Jazz's sudden invasion. Making a fuss really wasn't worth the damage he was likely to receive for it.
Moonracer shot to her feet the moment the door to the gatehouse unlocked and opened. She brushed herself off quickly, which did little to fix her appearance. Jazz approached close enough to see her clearly, but not close enough to seem friendly. He didn't want to give her the wrong idea; he had no intention of being friendly. The spooked look she gave him as he approached was enough to say that she didn't expect him to be friendly either. In her mind, she still had not reconciled with the fact that Jazz, the monster she had bashed freely in that very monster's presence, had been the one to put himself at risk to save so many without so much as a thanks in return.
"Um..." said the femme, shifting from one foot to the other, keeping her gaze cast nervously to the ground. "Prowl-."
"Ya know that ain't what Ah'm called," Jazz said flatly.
Moonracer frowned. "I know, but-."
"Ah assume ya came here for a reason," Jazz drawled, curious to have his curiosity served and then have the femme on her way. "They said ya had something important ta tell meh."
"I do," Moonracer said, her frown scrunching up as she pursed her mouthplates. "I knew you were the only bot who might care..."
"Really?" He found that hard to believe when she had only met him the one time, and he hadn't exactly been nice to anyone for the entire duration of that time... aside from rescuing them from torturous death, but that was beside the point. He didn't think he came across as a very 'caring' bot at all.
Moonracer sighed, her tired frame sagging even more heavily. "Please, I've been driving non-stop since I heard the news myself. Listen to what I have to say and you can decide how important it really is."
Jazz watched her closely, picking up every subtle nuance about her frame. He saw the dust and dirt caked heavily to her frame, meaning she had been travelling hard for several orns. Denting along her left side meant she had either had an accident on the uneven roads or had been attacked by Decepticons out in the wild lands. If it was the former, than she was a lousy driver. If the latter, then whatever she had to say must have been important for her to risk her life like she did. He saw the exhaustion in her optics, the way she held her frame so tiredly. He also saw determination in her optics, the same kind that had shone there on the orn he had rescued her from Shockwave's cages.
"Go on," he said, crossing his arms over his chest. He would give her time to speak her piece, but no more and no less. "Ah don't have all orn ta wait around on ya."
"Right, I know. You must be busy here doing... whatever it is you do for the Autobots," she stammered nervously, tripping over the words. She twisted her fingers in front of her. "I didn't know who else to come to... I know I never really said thank you for what you did... and I ran away when I found out who you really were-."
"Ah meant it when Ah said Ah don't have all orn," Jazz said.
She flinched. "Sorry." A deep drag of air sucked in through her vents. She straightened up as tall as she could go, accentuating the determination Jazz had seen shining in her gaze. "It's about the bot with the yellow optic."
Jazz snapped to attention.
Moonracer saw the sudden shift in the silver bot and was emboldened by it. "This group of bots just came in to our camp a couple of nights ago. They said they were trying to get as far away from the borderlands between Tyger Pax and Kaon as possible." She paused, clenching her hands tightly. "They said bots were disappearing from different areas around there. A bot with a strange yellow optic had been seen. The moment I heard, I knew I had to tell you."
"Ya came all this way ta tell me about a rumour?" Jazz wondered sceptically. "Cybertron's a big place. There's bound to be one or two bots around with a yellow optic."
"Bots have gone missing," Moonracer insisted. "If the bot with the yellow optic is taking them for experiments again, then..." She cringed, still able to hear Bluestreak's screaming in her audios. She recharged with the curdling noise haunting her. "You're the only one who can do anything about it!"
Jazz arched an optic ridge. "The borderlands between Tyger Pax and Kaon are far from here." He said nothing more, interested to see what the femme would do.
Moonracer got a little more frantic, thinking that she was either losing Jazz's interest and that he would simply refuse to help out of his own personal fickleness, or he was growing tired of her presence and might decide to kill her like he had threatened so many times after her rescue.
"Please," she implored, clasping her hands in a prayer-like manner and bowing before Jazz like he truly deserved the gesture. "I know it is far away, but you truly are the only one who I think might help. No Autobots have been taken this time, only Neutrals, so the Autobots in the area won't help. They're too focused on trying to keep themselves alive without having to worry about some nobody-Neutrals."
"So Ah'll waste mah time worrying?"
"You saved all of us when you didn't have to, didn't you?" she said, her desperate optics flashing up. "You have the skills to fight the bot with the yellow optic. I think you're the only one who can put a stop to him before he hurts anyone else."
Jazz watched her for several moments more, letting the femme panic under the scrutiny. In truth, a rumour of Shockwave's activities was more than he had gotten in a long time. Reviewing countless Autobot databases yielded little information of use to him. His lack of progress in the past orns had only compounded his frustration. Moonracer coming to him had been a stroke of pure luck. She gave him two things he needed; news on Shockwave and a reason to leave Iacon for an unspecified amount of time, hopefully long enough to get his thoughts in order before he faced Prowl again. It was yet to be decided if he would do anything for the possible captives Shockwave was currently keeping. The borderlands between Kaon and Tyger Pax were huge and far away; by the time Jazz got there, it was likely everyone would be either dead or so damaged that they would be beyond anyone's help.
"Please, Jazz," Moonracer begged quietly. "Please, I'm begging you. If you have any kind of spark in you, you'll go."
He looked to the side, revving quietly. "Stand up, will ya? Stop bowing like Ah'm some kind of Prime."
She eased upright cautiously. There was hope in her optics, distant but there.
"Ah'll go," Jazz announced as if it were some great burden for him to do so. He made no guarantees of rescue like the first time, but he would check the borderlands out. He could not pass up the opportunity of getting his hands on Shockwave.
Relief was evident in the small femme's expression. She obviously wanted to jump for joy, but didn't dare try it in front of him. She didn't want to irritate him, inadvertently causing him to change his mind about going.
"Thank you," she said, all but gushing the words. "Thank you, Jazz."
The dreaded words that he hated so much. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. He scowled. "Don't thank meh yet. For all ya know, every Neutral could be dead by now."
"Yes, but you're going anyways. That means a lot," she replied. Not even such a dark warning could diminish the new found hope shining in the femme's optics. It was as if her fear for the monster known as Jazz had never existed in the first place. She took a couple steps forward, but then stumbled as her energy levels wavered. Jazz unthinkingly reached out and caught her by an arm. He hauled her onto her feet and made sure she was steady before stepping away quickly to pretend he had not just did what he had done.
"Sorry," Moonracer murmured. "I was in such a rush to get here, I haven't recharged much. I guess it's finally starting to take its toll..."
Jazz cast his gaze to the sky in exasperation. He knew the laws of merchants, having been one in some capacity throughout his life; something given needed something in return. Moonracer had given him Shockwave's possible whereabouts, so he couldn't send her away without recompense. Well, he could send her away with nothing, but that annoying conscience that had been gnawing on him like a fungus wouldn't let him. She needed to be compensated.
"Come on," he said brusquely, taking her by the wrist and dragging her toward the gatehouse before she could object.
Dogfight watched them pass through without comment. There was curiosity in his gaze though, which Jazz would have happily punched him for if he wasn't already occupied with handling a femme.
"Where are you taking me? Jazz, please, stop!" Moonracer exclaimed, tugging fruitlessly at the grip that held her. His hands were much stronger than hers and his fingers were like a vice.
They made it into the Iacon compound amidst more curious gazes.
Jazz bristled. "Powerglide!" he barked, summoning the flier from the top of the wall where he had remained sitting the whole time.
"Yeah?" Powerglide asked, swooping to the ground near them.
Jazz shoved Moonracer in the red minibot's direction. "Take her for some energon and give her a berth to recharge on. Tell Ratchet to look her over when he gets the chance- and tell him Ah said Ah wanted her looked at."
Powerglide looked down at the pretty green femme he now held in his charge. "Well, I..."
"Don't give meh excuses, just do it," Jazz ordered. "If ya see Blackhawk along the way, tell him he won't be seeing meh tonight."
"Oh?" the Autobot enquired dumbly.
"Ah'll be packing for a trip. Don't know when Ah'll be back," Jazz said, which caused Moonracer to smile beatifically despite her confusion and mild fright.
Unable to stand looking at her expression, Jazz turned away and marched for his quarters to gather what he needed.