Jazz hummed softly, relaxing back into the couch. Bumblebee, who was lying on the saboteur's stomach and legs, had fallen into recharge in a curled up position. "Prowler, you nearly finished those reports?"

"No." The tactician barely glanced up from his datapad. His wings were held relaxedly behind him and despite his workload, he seemed content.

A sigh escaped Jazz's vents, and he absently petted the youngling in his lap. "Jeez, Prowl. Ah'm bored, and Bee's fallin' asleep. There has t' be somethin' we can do."

"I believe Smokescreen wished to speak to Bumblebee about his creators demise."

That earned a sharp look from Jazz. "Smokescreen's the psychiatrist, right? Ah don't trust him, and Ah don't wanna let him near Bee."

"He is indeed a psychiatrist, but he is also my brother." Prowl raised his head and frowned. "I trust him implicitly."

With a glance down at the sleeping youngling, Jazz frowned. "Ah don't like psychiatrists, and Ah don't want Bee anywhere near one. He's on'y a sparkling."

"Smokescreen is very well-qualified, and he-"

"You're on'y sayin' that 'cause he's yo' brother."

The datapad was set down on the table, before Prowl frowned sternly at Jazz. "I make a point of not allowing my emotions to control any decisions I make. As a result of this, it is my opinion that allowing Smokescreen to perform a psychological evaluation on Bumblebee is a perfectly reasonable-"

"No!"

"Perhaps you should speak to him also!" Prowl raised his voice, clearly beginning to lose his patience. Long gone were the days that the tactician's patience was endless - Jazz had changed all of that. He was much more liable to emotional responses, no matter how hard he tried to be logical about it. "Then you can decide for yourself!"

"Maybe Ah will!"

Bumblebee stirred with a soft noise, onlining his optics sleepily and looking up at his guardians. "What's happening?"

"Nothin', Bee. Go back ta sleep." Jazz instructed stiffly.

"I'm not tired." He said as he yawned, stretching across Jazz's legs. "I'm hungry."

"Okay. Let's go get some energon, hmm?" The Decepticon cooed, rubbing the youngling's backplates.

As he watched, his anger dissipated and Prowl couldn't help his smile as it tugged at the corners of his lips. The mere sight of the Decepticon he had grown so close to being so affectionate to a youngling still caused him the same amount of happiness it had when he had first seen it. The youngling had only been here for two weeks, but Jazz's parental streak had emerged and taken over.

"You comin'?"

Startled out of his thoughts, Prowl jumped and realised he had been staring at Jazz as the saboteur walked to the door with Bumblebee. "Ah.. No. No, I need to finish my reports."

After another moment of optic contact, Jazz took Bumblebee's hand and led him out of the room. "So, how hungry are ya?"

"Really hungry!" Bumblebee clutched at his guardian's hand insistently. "Super hungry!"

"Wow, super hungry?! Dang, mech!"

With a giggle, Bumblebee tilted his head up and gazed adoringly at the older mech. "Jazzie?"

"Yeah, li'l mech?"

"Your visor is red again. I thought you liked making it blue when we go out?"

"Frag." Jazz muttered, hand reaching up as he recalibrated the colour of his optical sensors to blue. He frowned suddenly when he realised that Bumblebee had flinched away from him when he had cursed. "Bee? Wha's wrong?"

"I don't like that word. My other creators didn't let me say it."

"What, frag?"

Another flinch. "Please don't."

"Alright, alright. Ah won't." The saboteur assured, waving a hand as they neared the door of the rec. room.

The sounds of mechs laughing and shouting increased as they walked through the door. On reflex, Jazz took the youngling's hand and tugged him over to walk close to the wall.

"Jazzie?" Bumblebee pressed closer to the silver spy as the older mech poured two cubes of energon from the energon dispenser.

"Hmm?"

"Sideswipe is coming over."

After a pause, Jazz straightened up stiffly and passed Bumblebee one of the cubes. As the shiny red frontliner approached, Jazz forced an easygoing smile on his face. "Hey there."

"I know you." Sideswipe stated as he reached them.

"Well, Ah hope so. Ya have been lookin' after mah sparklin' with Blue every couple'a days f'r the past two weeks." Jazz laughed casually, looking for all the world as though he weren't tensing and readying himself for battle.

"No, I mean I recognise you from somewhere. Seriously, it's been bothering me for ages."

With another chuckle, Jazz shrugged. "Sorry mech, haven' a clue."

"No, seriously! Your accent and everything! It's so familiar..." Sideswipe frowned, before reaching out and grabbing Jazz's face. He turned the silver mech's head to the side, examining him closely.

"Get your hands off meh, or Ah'll kill ya." Jazz said pleasantly, shooting Sideswipe a cheerful smile. His proclamation made Bumblebee gasp and clutch at the saboteur's leg.

Slowly, Sideswipe removed his hand from the smaller mech's face. "Holy frag." He whispered, optics widening. "You're-"

"Ah hafta go." The saboteur interrupted, grabbing Bumblebee up into his arms. "See ya 'round."

The speed with which Jazz left the room was almost astounding; Sideswipe was left standing shell-shocked, staring after the silver form.

"What was he talking about?" Bumblebee clutched at Jazz's neck.

"Nothin', Bee." The saboteur said, casting a quick look over his shoulder. "Alright, we're gonna go visit Uncle Smokescreen."

"Who's that?" The youngling asked curiously. "Is he the mech with wings like Prowl and Bluestreak?"

"Yeah, baby, that's him." After storming down the corridor, Jazz stopped in front of Smokescreen's office and knocked anxiously.

The door opened almost immediately, and the blue and red Praxian was framed in the doorway. "Ah, Rumble. Hello, Bumblebee. Would you like to come in?"

"No." Jazz said firmly, shifting the weight of the youngling to his other hip. "Look, Prowl was sayin' tha' it would be good f'r you t' talk t' Bee 'bout his trauma."

"What's 'trauma' mean?" Bumblebee piped up.

"Tell ya later." Jazz mumbled, not taking his attention off the Praxian in front of him.

Rubbing his yellow chevron, Smokescreen nodded. "Ah.. Yes. I believe I did mention that to Prowl. I think it would be beneficial to Bumblebee. The first step is acceptance."

Ignoring the youngling's confused look at him, Jazz nodded. "Yeah, okay. So when can ya set up an appointment?"

"Tomorrow would be good for me." Smokescreen murmured, thinking for a moment. "Come into my office for a moment."

After a brief pause, Jazz nodded and followed the psychologist into the room. It was a rather plain room, and very neat - not to the extent of Prowl's, but quite similar. The few personal effects around the room included a painting of the skyline of Praxus and a framed photo-capture. Curious, Jazz set the youngling down and picked up the frame. "This you an' Prowl?"

Smokescreen glanced around, and smiled at the sight of the photo-capture. "Yes."

The photo was clearly taken many vorns ago, when the two of them were younger. Smokescreen was smiling widely, his yellow chevron glinting. Beside him, Prowl was smiling reservedly as he shied away from whoever was taking the picture.

With a small smile of his own, Jazz set the frame back down on the tidy desk. "Alright, wha's up?"

The Praxian didn't answer right away. Instead, he handed Bumblebee a datapad and coloured styluses. "Why don't you draw a picture?"

With an excited nod, the youngling took the drawing supplies and skipped over to the psychiatrist's couch, where he sat and proceeded to colour.

"Sit down." Smokescreen gestured to the chair in front of his desk and smiled.

"Ah'd rather not."

"Okay, then." Unfazed, he steepled his fingers and regarded the saboteur curiously. "I actually wanted to talk with you, as well as Bumblebee."

"Meh? Why?"

"Prowl informed me you had a difficult upbringing. I thought you might like to talk about it."

The saboteur's lithe form had gone rigid, "What did he tell ya?" He growled suspiciously.

"Nothing invasive. He just said you suffered traumatic experiences throughout your youth that you have never truly recovered from."

Jazz's sharp claws clenched into fists. "Ah'm fine."

"Right. Well, if you-"

"I think we're done here. Prowl'll bring Bee by t'morrow." Jazz moved to turn away, but Smokescreen spoke again.

"I wanted to talk about you and my brother too." The psychologist stepped closer, frowning ever so slightly. "You two have become very close recently. I think you should realise that emotions run deeply within Praxians, and even more deeply within Prowl. If you hurt him, he won't get over it."

"What are ya tryin' t' say?" Anger was making his silver chassis swell, making him look a little taller than normal.

"I am just saying, Prowl doesn't recover from sparkbreak easily. So please, please don't hurt him."

"Ah would never-"

"I'm not suggesting that you would, intentionally. I'm just pleading with you not to. Prowl likes you. A lot."

A strange look crossed Jazz's face. "He told ya that?"

"Not in so many words." Smokescreen sighed. "But I think the fact that he is allowing you to live with him speaks volumes."

There was no expression on the saboteur's face as he turned to Bumblebee, who hadn't moved from the couch. The youngling's little face was scrunched up on concentration as he coloured on the datapad. "Bee, we're goin'."

Smokescreen watched in silence as the mechling slid off the couch, clutching the datapad to his chassis. It was only when the silver mech had picked Bumblebee up off the ground and walked towards the door that the Praxian spoke again. "Do you love him?"

There was an almost audible screech as Jazz froze midstep. "Wha'?"

"Prowl. Do you love him?"

Silence.

Without giving an answer, Jazz stalked out the door. He ignored the youngling's confused look as he headed back towards their quarters.

His mind was whirling again. Did he love Prowl? He couldn't. It wasn't in his nature to love anyone.

He began walking faster.

It felt like his spark was constricting in his chassis. He couldn't do this. He just couldn't. "I can't do this."

"Do what? Jazzie, you're scaring me." Bumblebee whispered, clutching the saboteur's neck.

"Can't do it. Can't do it." He walked faster.

His mind whirled and his spark hurt. He couldn't. What if he hurt Prowl? Even unintentionally? He wouldn't be able to live with himself. And Prowl liked him back. That was... strange. And new. Jazz didn't know how to deal with the new feelings coursing through him.

Before he knew it, he was at the door to Prowl's quarters. He stared at it a moment, confused as to how he got there, before setting Bumblebee down on his feet. "Listen t' meh, Bee." He murmured, blinking to try and clear his head of the foggy confusion that had taken over him. "Listen real close, okay? Ah gotta go-"

"Go?" Bumblebee blurted, staring as Jazz knelt down in front of him. "No! You can't!"

"Shhh.." The saboteur insisted, patting the youngling's face. "Listen. Ah have ta, baby Bee. Ah need ya t' look after Prowler f'r meh-"

"You aren't saying bye?"

There was a pause as Jazz struggled to regulate his air intake and sparkbeat. He couldn't; if he were to see Prowl again, he would break. "No, Ah'm not. But- Ah'll be back soon, promise."

The youngling shook his helm desperately, clutching at the saboteur. "Please Jazzie, don't!"

"Ah'm sorry." He breathed, hugging the small body. "Ah'll come back eventually. Just... tell Prowl Ah'm sorry."

"B-but where are you going?" Tears were beginning to slide down Bumblebee's face as he gazed up at the older mech.

After a noticeable hesitation, Jazz sighed. "Home."

"This is your home."

"Ah'm sorry." The Decepticon had never apologised so much in his life. "Promise meh you'll tell him?"

"Yeah." Bumblebee sniffled. "Okay. I don't want you to leave."

"Ah know. But... Ah don't have a choice."

"You do! You can stay with me and Prowl!"

"Ah can't. Ah'll hurt him. Ah can't hurt him.. Ah can't."

"Hurt who? Prowl?" Bumblebee's face twisted. "You won't! You would never hurt Prowl!"

Jazz patted the youngling's back, before standing up and taking a step back. "Can't take the chance. He'll be better without meh."

"No!"

"Shhh." Jazz hugged the youngling one more time. "Bye, Bee."

"Wait!" Bumblebee wailed, trying to chase after the silver mech as he retreated down the corridor. The youngling turned the corner, only to find Jazz had vanished from sight. Venting harshly, Bumblebee ran back to Prowl's quarters and began hammering his little fists on the door.

The door slid open and Prowl frowned disapprovingly, clearly not impressed with all the noise. His frown deepened when he saw the youngling's tear-stained face. "Bumblebee?" He glanced around, and felt trepidation rising up inside him when he realised that Bumblebee was alone in the corridor. "Where is Jazz?"

...

'Nearly there', Jazz thought to himself as he trekked towards the Kaonian Decepticon Base. He had commed Vortex in advance, and the Combaticon had agreed to meet him halfway.

It was only a few kliks before he saw the dark form of the helicopter standing by a bar and grinning. "Welcome back, Jazz."

The saboteur grunted and continued walking, refusing to stop for him. "You'd better have a room ready f'r meh. Ah'm tired."

"Ah. We don't. You gave us such short notice, ya know." Vortex shrugged, slinging an arm around the smaller mech. "So you can room with me."

Jazz shot a sharp look at the interrogater. "What happened t' mah room?"

"You were gone for a long time. I'm pretty sure the Constructicons turned it into a storage room."

"Ah want it back."

"I- uh.. I'm sure we can get it back."

"Good. Now get yo' hands off of meh."

The arm was removed from his shoulders immediately. "Right. Well anyway, I'm sure everyone'll be happy to see you again."

"Hmph. Ah'll bet." Jazz said sourly. The only reason anyone would be happy to see him would be because they hoped for a quick interface session. He was, after all, known for that.

"You're in a good mood today." Vortex observed suddenly, glancing at the saboteur with a smile with no hint of sarcasm.

"Yeah, guess so." Jazz grumbled, scowling at the ground. Compared to what the Decepticons usually saw of him, his mood would look ecstatic.

"Cheer up, mech. We're almost there."

The grim outline of the Kaonian Decepticon Base stood out starkly against the other unkempt buildings surrounding it. It looked like a neon sign warning mechs to stay the hell away. Even the beggar mechs that frequented practically everywhere knew well enough to leave this place alone.

The guards all nodded to Vortex, whether out of respect or fear was unclear. Within a few kliks, the two of them were walking up the halls of the base. "Megatron wants to speak with you before you go anywhere else." Vortex spoke up casually, and Jazz noticed for the first time that they were headed towards Megatron's throne room.

"Fan-fragging-tastic."

...

Jazz's mood sank lower and lower as he loped down the dull grey corridors after Vortex. Just being present in the Base was enough to make him feel homicidal again, never mind having to listen to Megatron yet again. The tyrant had wanted to know exactly where he was, and exactly what he had been doing. Naturally, Jazz hadn't said a word; though Megatron hadn't truly been expecting an answer, he had still hit the saboteur rather hard.

And to top it all off, he had to stay the night in the Combaticon's quarters. He was under no illusions of this being an act of kindness, either; Vortex just wanted to frag.

"Here we are." The helicopter muttered, leading the way into the room. "It's just us tonight. Onslaught's brought the others on a mission or something."

After shooting a suspicious look at the interrogator, Jazz marched over to one of the five empty berths and threw himself down onto it. It was lumpy and hard, but it was a berth, and after driving half of the way from Iacon and walking the rest, all Jazz wanted to do was recharge. His body was so tired it felt strutless, and a trip to the washracks was on the very top of his to-do list for when he woke up.

"You're not recharging already, are you?"

Jazz onlined his optics again, scowling behind his visor at the voice of the unstable Combaticon. "Yeah, Ah am."

"Are you sure..? We could do something more.. fun?" Vortex's voice turned suggestive, and a sharp finger trailed down the saboteur's slim waist.

A sharp smack was delivered to the wandering hand before Jazz glared at him. "No."

"No? You've never said 'no' before." A short, slightly disbelieving laugh escaped Vortex.

"Well, Ah'm sayin' it now. Ah'm tired, and not in the mood."

With an angry sigh, Vortex turned away. It was obvious he was rolling his optics, even if it was hidden behind his visor. "Whatever. If I had known you were just gonna sleep, I would've let you stay somewhere else."

Refusing to show how much that hurt, Jazz curled up on the berth he had claimed as the other mech walked over to his own berth. The saboteur was only now realising just how good he had it in Iacon. He had allowed himself to become weak, relying on someone else for survival. He had to change that.

He missed Prowl already.

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