Wow, it's been a while since I've updated this. I didn't even realise how long it's been. Sorry about that, dudes.

anyway, here we are! Hope you guys enjoy it!

"Ow..."

"Do not move." Prowl insisted, laying his hand over Jazz's smaller black one. The saboteur winced, but lay still. His body was torn and charred, and he was missing an arm. Energon leaked steadily from the stump in his shoulder, and torn wires sparked dangerously. From below his knee joint was completely ripped away, and was sluggishly leaking his lifeblood away. "Ratchet!"

"He's... busy.."

"You are severely injured and bleeding out! You should be top priority!"

"Shh.. Calm... down, baby.." His voice was weak, but Jazz still managed a grin as he gazed up at his lover. "Head o' Special Ops... Is more important'n... me.."

"Spectrum didn't even get injured. And nothing is more important than you."

"Ha.. cute.."

The light in the injured saboteur's visor flickered severely for a moment, and Prowl turned around in a panic to seek out a medic. "Ratchet!" He called out again; they had been pushed into a small, private cubicle to give the medics more room to rush around treating the others in the main medical bay. Why Jazz, severely injured as he was, had been pushed to the side was absolutely beyond Prowl. His battle computer had been running wild trying to come up with answers, but none of them were plausible.

The mission had been a massive failure. Almost half the Special Ops team had been injured so severely that they had to be taken off active duty for the foreseeable future. Seven mechs had offlined.

It was only thanks to Jazz's inordinate amount of skill that they had any survivors left at all. And not only did they have survivors, but Jazz had also managed to blow up the mainframe containing most of Soundwave's most sensitive data. Unfortunately, the blast from the explosion had also claimed his arm and half his leg, but he had miraculously managed to make it back out to the front of the Decepticon base without being caught.

"You are never going on such a dangerous mission again."

"Heh..."

"I mean it, Jazz. You could have been killed."

"Not if... Spec..trum... had listened... t' mah plan.."

"I am going to tear him apart."

"Can Ah.. watch..?"

"Get better, and you can do whatever you like." Prowl murmured, clutching tightly at the smaller hand in his grasp. Jazz looked so weak...

The privacy partition slid back abruptly and Ratchet walked in. He froze, optics going round as he took in the damaged mech on the berth. "Primus... Why is he down on the list as 'low-priority'?! He's fragging dying!"

"What?" Prowl yelped, leaping out of Ratchet's way as the CMO hollered over his shoulder for First Aid's assistance. "Dying?"

First Aid burst through the curtains, clutching a huge array of medical equipment. His visored gaze fell on Jazz's form and his optics brightened in surprise. "I thought he was low-priority-?"

"Well he fragging isn't! Hand me the suction pump!" Ratchet snarled, looking over the damage.

"P-Prowler...?

At the sound of his nickname, the tactician almost dove towards the berth. He grabbed onto his mate's hand and squeezed it gently, trying hard not to let his panic show on his face. "Are you okay? How bad is the damage, Jazz? You said it wasn't that bad! What did Ratchet mean by dying?"

"Calm.." Another flicker of the visor; Jazz was close to going into emergency stasis. "Ah've been... worse.."

"Jazz-"

"Love ya... ya know that.. right?"

"Of course, but-"

"Ah'll see ya.. when Ah wake up.."

"Don't go into stasis. Please, Jazz, just stay awake a little longer."

"Prowl, you're going to have to move while we repair him-"

"No."

Ratchet paused, assessing the tactician. Normally, the CMO would have simply thrown whoever had disrespected his authority into the corridor and been done with them. But this was Prowl; Ratchet hadn't seen such an obvious display of emotion from the tactician in a very long time. And so, with a grumble and a sigh, the CMO motioned at First Aid to simply work around the Praxian.

...

It took hours.

Hours, until Jazz's broken and bleeding frame was welded back together.

Prowl stayed by the medical berth the whole time, refusing to move for anything. It was quite illogical of him, but his emotions were screaming louder than logic at that moment.

Occasionally Ratchet would pop his helm in to see if Prowl was still okay. The tactician would rarely have moved from his position by the saboteur's side.

After another while, the CMO poked his helm in through the partition again. "He should be waking up in a few moments. He'll be sedated because of the pain, but he'll still be lucid. I'll leave you two alone, but if he feels any pain, call me at once."

"Thank you, Ratchet." His voice came out even number and colder than usual. As the medic nodded and left, Prowl gazed at the immobile form of the mech on the berth.

After a tense five minutes, a black finger twitched.

"Jazz?" The name tumbled out in a relieved breath as he clutched at the smaller mech's hand.

Groggily, the blue visor flickered to life. "Ugh..."

"Are you okay?"

A long moment later, Jazz nodded. "Hurts..."

"I know. I'm so sorry."

Curiously tilting his head, the saboteur frowned. "Why..?"

"I should never have approved Spectrum's mission plan. Your plan was much better, but I just-"

"Shhh..." Weakly shaking his helm, Jazz squeezed faintly on the tactician's hand. "Nu-uh. Ain't yo' fault, baby."

"It is, I should have-"

"Oh, shut up." Lacking the strength for a proper grin, Jazz settled for a small smile. "Ah just woke up. Give meh some cuddles."

With an exasperated sigh, Prowl leaned forward obediently and pressed an affectionate kiss to the saboteur's black helm. He wrapped his arms carefully around the smaller mech in a hug. "How bad is your pain?"

"Ah'm okay. How's everyone else?"

"They are fine. You were the most injured; and yet, you were repaired last. I could ask why."

"Hm. Strange."

"Jazz. Do not play with the medical server. If you are injured like you were, you can not simply hack in and put yourself down as low-priority."

"Others were hurt-"

"You were the most severely injured out of all of them!"

"But Ah was the one who trained 'em! Ah should've prepared 'em better-"

"No, I should never have allowed the plan to come to fruition-" he broke off sharply and shook his helm. "Never mind. I shouldn't be stressing you right now."

"Ya could never stress me out, Prowler." Jazz murmured, relaxing against the berth. Gently stroking down the tactician's arm, Jazz sighed softly. "Can ya stay the night with meh?"

"I am unsure. A failed mission like this one generates an enormous amount of paperwork."

"Mm." Mildly disappointed, the saboteur stared up at the ceiling. "Ah hate rechargin' when you're not with meh."

"I have also grown accustomed to your presence during the night cycle."

"So sweet." With an exhausted sigh, Jazz's frame went lax against the berth.

"I'll leave you to recharge. Feel better."

"Will ya be back tomorrow?"

"Of course." Getting to his feet, Prowl leaned over and kissed his mate on one of his audio horns. "I will be here first thing in the morning."

"Promise?"

"I promise, Jazz."

Nodding, the saboteur watched Prowl walk to the door. Just before he disappeared out of the room, Jazz spoke again. "Love ya."

Prowl indulged his injured mate in a smile. "I love you too."

...

"How are you feeling this morning?"

"Like slag." Jazz groaned, curling up on the medical berth. "Ratchet won't give meh any more painkillers."

"That means he doesn't think you need any."

"Ah hurt."

Frowning, Prowl massaged small circles in the saboteur's leg. Perhaps he should ask Ratchet about providing painkillers.

"Plus, the berth was cold and uncomfortable without ya."

"My absence would not affect the comfort provided by the berth."

"Sure it would. Everythin' sucks without ya."

"That is a sweet sentiment."

"Can we go back t' our quarters now?"

"Soon," the tactician promised, stroking sensitive audio horns soothingly. "Would you like to see some of your visitors for five breems?"

"Visitors?"

Giving a small smile at Jazz's surprise, Prowl nodded, "One moment," he said, moving towards the door.

The saboteur watched curiously as the Praxian disappeared out the door. Minutes later, he reappeared, followed by...

"Jazz!" Bluestreak and Bumblebee squealed, simultaneously launching themselves at the berth.

Prowl swiftly caught them both by the scruffs of their necks. "Do not stress his wounds."

"Ow! Okay!" Bumblebee whined as he was set down. Him and Bluestreak edged more cautiously towards the injured mech.

"Hi guys." Jazz couldn't stop his smile from spreading across his face. "Ya came t' visit meh?"

Ignoring the question, Bluestreak came to stand as close to the berth as possible without actually sitting on it. "Are you okay?"

"Ah'm fine, don't even worry 'bout me." The injured black and white waved a hand, irritatingly blasé. "What 'bout you, Bee? Are ya hurt?"

"No, Hound took me away from the blast radius."

"Tell him Ah owe him." Jazz sighed, his gaze carefully roving the minibot's frame. "Are you sure you're not injured?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

There was no doubt on Prowl's mind that if there had been so much as a scratch in Bumblebee's paint, Jazz would have hunted down Spectrum and torn him apart. "Perhaps we should wrap this visit up. Jazz is tired."

"Nah, Ah'm fine-"

"Ratchet specifically warned against tiring him out. You may return to visit again tomorrow." Prowl said firmly, beginning to usher the two younger mechs out the door.

"Okay, okay! Wait!" Laughing, Bumblebee leaned over and gave his guardian a hug, mindful of his injuries. "I hope you feel better, Jazzie."

"Thanks, Bee." The saboteur smiled and pressed a kiss to the top of the minibot's head.

Mirroring Bumblebee, Bluestreak hugged the other side of Jazz. "I'm sorry you got hurt, Jazz."

"Thanks, guys. Come visit me tomorrow, yeah?" The saboteur asked hopefully, smiling as the two younger mechs nodded. Prowl promptly began ushering them out the door.

Once they were gone, the SIC turned back to Jazz and raised an optic ridge. "Do you feel better now?"

"Yeah... Thanks, Prowler. Can't believe Ah had visitors." The idea made him giggle a little bit.

"They care about you." Prowl murmured, taking Jazz's hand in his and squeezing it lightly. "As do I."

"C'mere, mech." Pulling him closer, Jazz pressed their mouths together in a kiss.

His glossa gently pressed passed Prowl's lips, and the taller mech groaned quietly. "Jazz... You're going to make me do something I shouldn't."

"Why shouldn't ya?"

"Because you are injured and need to rest."

"Pfft, that was a suggestion." Jazz murmured, running his hands up and down the taller mech's chassis. "Ratchet wouldn't mind..."

"Ratchet most certainly would mind. He would cut off my interfacing equipment if I aggravated your wounds."

"Ah ain't askin' ya t' aggravate mah wounds, just aggravate mah valve."

"Jazz!" Frowning disapprovingly, Prowl pulled away. "I'm going to leave you to rest now. Please get some recharge."

Sighing, Jazz released him and fell back against the cushioned medberth. "This is slagging stupid. Ah'm perfectly fine, there's no need for meh t' stay in the medbay overnight."

"I'm sure you don't think so." Prowl murmured, kissing Jazz's helm. "I will see you tomorrow."

"Yeah... Kill Spectrum for me."

"Jazz!"

"Love ya."

"I love you too. Please get better."

"Ah'll try mah best." Jazz smiled, watching his lover leave the room. Once he was gone, his smile faded and he sighed as he went limp on the berth. Pain was a constant, and he groaned and winced.

It was going to be a long night.