~blah~ is comm-speak, blah is Cybertronian
Disclaimer: All recognisable characters, places, etc. belong to HasTak and other copyright holders. I make no profit from this.
Chapter 4: Under control
After such a long time of taking things so slowly, when First Aid finally confirmed that they were ready to move the next part went so fast that it made Sunstreaker's gyros spin. Suddenly they had Ratchet lying prone on a stretcher, and he and Hot Spot were racing down the hallway with him with Jazz running ahead to open the doors and Prowl coming behind carrying First Aid's tools and the medic himself jogging alongside monitoring constantlyand giving instructions.
Bursting into the repair bay they set him down on the nearest berth, then Sunstreaker backed off and looked about for his twin.
"Sides!"
Sideswipe was staring, his hands dripping fluids.
"Sunny! What's going on? We heard the alarm..."
"Never you mind about that." Prowl cut him off. "You're needed here. Sunstreaker, outside on guard duty. Jazz, take over in the control room. Hot Spot, make contact with your team and have Blades report back on which Decepticons are being engaged. First Aid - what else do you need?"
"I'll let you know." the medic replied distractedly, grabbing at wires and machines.
"Good. I'll be just outside with Sunstreaker."
Sunstreaker blinked at him.
"You will?"
Prowl grabbed his arm and pulled him outside then closed the door behind them.
"What ordnance do you have on you?"
"What? Why? And why're you doing sentry duty?"
Prowl settled himself, checking the barrel of one of his guns.
"Prime took everyone with him except for the ones he usually would take with him - you two, me, Jazz, Wheeljack. Worse, he's taken everyone, including an incomplete Protectobot team, and that will be a sure sign that something is wrong: that lot usually stay together, so if one is back here then they all are. Which will almost definitely lead to someone noticing that none of our medics are in the field. And if Megatron figures that out and realises we've got wounded here, he'll send someone straight for this repair bay. We've come this far, we're not going to lose them now for lack of security. So. Go to the storeroom and stock up, then be ready to shoot first and ask questions later. I'm going to set up the auto-defence grid, then I'll be back."
Sideswipe turned away from the closing door, then shuddered as he caught a glimpse of the metal bar that pierced Ratchet's head. He made himself look down at Wheeljack and continue trying to sort the tangle of wires in the inventor's torn side, but his attention remained on First Aid and Ratchet. Huffer and Hoist seemed distracted too, he noticed, and Perceptor - who had returned after the battle alert with absolutely no news - had gone completely still, his expression horrified.
"Sideswipe!" First Aid called, making him jump.
"Me? Why me? I'm not a medic! I can't..."
The words bubbled out of him before he could even think, and he turned to see frustration and worry flash across the Protectobot's face.
"I know you're not a medic. That's why I need you. I need someone to watch the outputs on this monitor while I sort Wheeljack out."
"Wheeljack? But shouldn't you work on Ratchet first?"
First Aid shook his head.
"He's stable in stasis. Wheeljack isn't and I'll need his help with Ratchet. Now look - you need to watch here, here and here, and this input here. If any of these move more than a few points, or if this one spikes, yell. Hoist, get me two cubes of boron-based low grade. Huffer, we need to flush his system to get the contaminants out - see if you can find one of the high pressure valves, I don't know where Ratchet keeps them. Perceptor, you'll help me with the... Perceptor?"
Sideswipe looked up and realised that Perceptor was backing away.
"I... I should... check if P-Prime needs me..." the scientist stuttered.
"What?" First Aid asked blankly. "Prime's heading out to a battle, why would he need you?"
Huffer was not so slow on the uptake and reached up to clip the other mech across the back of the head.
"Get your gears in train." he growled. "We've got work to do."
But Perceptor was having none of it, shaking his head violently and stumbling back towards the door.
"I've got to go. I've got... stuff... to do..."
"Stuff?" Sideswipe echoed. "Is that a new technical term? Don't be a coward - come back and help or I'll..."
"No." First Aid interrupted. "No, leave him. Perceptor - if you can't do this then go away, maybe Prowl can use you for something but I don't have time for this. Sideswipe, you watch that monitor. Don't take your optics off it for a click."
Sideswipe swung back to the monitor, chastened but also reassured. First Aid was a novice, but he sounded like knew what he was doing and he was not tolerating any nonsense. Just like Ratchet, really. Sneaking a hand out, he gave Ratchet's wrist a gentle squeeze of comfort. It was going to be alright.
Jazz stood in front of Teletran-1's main monitor bank, trying to fight the urge to run from the room to demand an update from First Aid, or to join the others at the power station, or to hide in his quarters and scream out his frustrations. Hot Spot's presence at one of the terminals was both a help and a hindrance: holding him in place and forcing him to concentrate on his duty as an officer.
Numbly running another perimeter scan, he reminded himself that this hardly rated a mention in his list of worst times. There had been situations undercover when he had watched friends die in the most hideous ways and had had to pretend to enjoy the show. Times when he had had to continue doing some mundane task when he had to maintain a particular cover even though he knew his absence from another situation would cost lives. Even the very occasional nightmarish day where he had had to play the part of the torturer or executioner for mecha he knew and cared for rather than blow his cover. That had been worse than this, surely?
It was the emotional connection that made this so difficult, he decided, trying to analyse the cause dispassionately. That, and the fact that there really was no mission to complete, no cover to maintain, no overriding need to ignore his own desires in favour of a higher cause. When he had to do awful things, or endure what others would consider the unendurable, he could separate himself from the events by recalling his purpose. How many times had he been able to pull through the worst missions with his psyche intact because he knew Prowl was waiting for him, would still accept him, would still love him no matter what had happened? How many times had that thought sustained him when others would have given in to despair?
Irritable at his wandering thoughts which were no longer even making sense to him, he paced to a different terminal and plugged in to the sensor net and ran a diagnostic. Twice. Slag it all, he needed a mission. He needed to be doing something. Even doing nothing at all, so long as there was an active purpose in it. This monitoring of Teletran's systems was too passive to keep him occupied, and Prowl should know that better than anyone. Why did he need to be here when Hot Spot was already here anyway? What was the point? No-one was going to call in during the fight, not when everyone else was out there, and while he understood the need to have someone monitoring the defences why did it have to be him? Why not Sunstreaker? Or Prowl himself?
"I can't get through to Blades." Hot Spot announced abruptly, rising. "Soundwave must be jamming the signals. I should head out there."
"To do what?" Jazz asked, easily concealing his own inner turmoil now that he had a distraction. "Prime's got nearly every 'bot we got on the planet out there. Ain't nothin' more y'can do. 'Sides, by the time y'get out there, it'll be all over."
Hot Spot scowled.
"My team's out there. Whether they need me or not, that's where I should be."
He strode out and Jazz sighed to himself, flopping dramatically - just because there was no audience was no reason to forget to do it with style - into a nearby chair. Gestalts and their irrational need to be together. Worse than bondmates, and he should know.
The thought made him think of his own situation, and he sighed again, thinking back over the events of the day.
Coming off-shift to find Prowl in their quarters had been entirely unexpected, and he had wasted several clicks confirming that he had not mis-read the day's schedule before deciding that he did not care why it had happened and locking the door. It had been a long, long time since they had last had any quality time together. Prowl would probably know precisely how long but Jazz chose not to measure it because it made it hurt more. Since before they had been on Earth, anyway, and that made it more than long enough.
He crossed his arms, staring at the screen but not really taking in the information that scrolled across it. He had wanted so much in that moment, and for once he could have it. And Prowl had picked up on that desire and opened the long-silent bond just enough that Jazz could be sure the feeling was mutual. And then, right in the middle of that euphoria, Prime had dropped him back into painful reality.
He shuttered his optics for a moment, trying not to shiver as he remembered the feel of Blaster's hands on his already charged body, Blaster's energy merging with his when his spark had been anticipating Prowl's. Bad enough to play that role under normal circumstances, when he had prepared himself and was ready to act the part; unexpectedly jarring when the situation was wrong.
Only the other trained spies in the unit knew that sparksharing enjoyment could be faked - everyone else subscribed to the firm belief that it was not possible to bring oneself to that level of intimacy without a true emotional connection - but he had even his own staff fooled. Today, though, had been different.
He rose to pace agitatedly, barely aware that he was doing it. Today he had not been prepared. Today his systems had already been cycling in anticipation of something it had been denied for a pit of a long time and it was not interested in his attempts at reining it in. He had planned to get Blaster charged up a little, then cut it off before it went too far. Instead, the comms mech had touched him just where Prowl's fingers had been a few minutes earlier, and the overload had happened before he knew it. The shock that he had just given Blaster a taste of his true passion had nearly ruined the whole plan and he had almost fled in horror, but his training held out. There was a mission to complete; he needed an alibi, and this had to be it.
Going back to Prowl after that had been difficult. He wanted to spend a few hours in the wash racks until the feel of the water on his frame made him forget the feel of Blaster's touch. He wanted to run and hide from everyone until he could forget what he had done. Instead, he had walked back to their quarters, even exchanging some meaningless banter with Windcharger on the way. But on his arrival, it had been more than he could do to look at his lover, let alone touch him. The thought of Prowl touching him when his circuits were still arcing with Blaster's spark energy just made him feel sick. And dissembling would not work either: Prowl could always see straight through his lies, even without using their bond.
It had only been when he was sure that the overload had completely passed, only when he was sure that the excess energy had completely dissipated, that he had finally relented and gone looking for comfort. Comfort that he did not deserve, yet was always given unstintingly when he asked.
How did Prowl do it, he wondered bleakly. How did he remain so faithful, knowing that Jazz was constantly being entirely unfaithful? How did he ignore that everywhere he touched, had been touched by others? How did he cope with knowing that half the Ark had had his bondmate? Jazz knew without a doubt that he had the easier of the two roles. He was not sure he would be able to maintain their cover if he found out someone else had been sparksharing with Prowl. Unfair and completely hypocritical, he knew, but he had his limits. He admired Prowl's ability to constantly tolerate the intolerable, but he knew he could never emulate it.
Primus forbid they ever had to go that way to keep their secret or he thought he might do something rash.
A beeping made him refocus, and he turned to check what was affecting the sensor. Then took a slow step back before turning on his heel beginning to run.
Unsurprisingly, his mate had been right to worry, and now there was no more time for thinking, it was time for action.
~Prowl! We've got incoming!~