A/N: WARNING: This chapter will contain depictions of a PTSD attack.
Jazz had barely been gone for a week, but Prowl hadn't noticed the role the spy played in keeping up base morale until it was gone.
Many of the mechs on board the Ark had known Bumblebee since he was a newspark and their overwhelming distress with no immediate outlet had lead to Prowl having to throw more than one mech into the brig for fighting.
Prowl was surprised to find that he himself was affected by Jazz's absence. He hadn't realised how much the spy had become part of his daily routine what with all their shared reports and overlapping responsibilities. That was until his HUD alerted him to his dangerously low fuel levels as he had spent an entire day in his office without Jazz to trick him into taking a fuel break. Prowl was even surprised to find himself disappointed that they would miss their scheduled chess match.
His relief when he learnt that Jazz had returned with Bumblebee was short lived as Prowl had quickly been forced to set up an impromptu security detail around the med-bay so that Ratchet could work in peace without being stormed by an army of worried soldiers. Thankfully, by the evening, news had spread that Ratchet had been able to stabilise the young mech and Prowl finally had enough free time to complete his post mission check in with Jazz.
Or at least he would if he could actually find the mech.
Prowl had checked his office, the rec room and even the med bay again. But there was no sign of the spy anywhere. Using his powers of deduction, Prowl calculated that there was only place left that Jazz could be. His room.
Prowl knocked on a door that had been adorned with old band stickers and movie posters who's stars were all long dead by now. There was no answer. Prowl knocked again, more firmly this time. But still there was no reply.
He tried Jazz's comm link for what felt like the millionth time that day and was unsurprised when this too wielded an unsuccessful result.
Prowl was about to knock again when he heard a crash from the other side of the door.
"Commander?" Prowl called out.
The responding crash was not a good sign.
At worst fearing that a Deception had managed to track the spy home and attack him in his quarters, Prowl entered his emergency override code and barged the door open.
Prowl had never been to Jazz's room before, so he wasn't sure what he expected it to be like. Perhaps covered more in of the band and movie posters like it had been adorned on the outside. But he certainly had not expected it to look like this.
Jazz's room was beyond a mess. It was a wreck. It appeared as though someone had literally been tearing at the walls and the stench of highgrade was palpable even from the door. It didn't take a genius to determine that it was emanating from the broken cubes and empty bottles that were smashed all over the floor
Although the wrecked state of the room that was nothing compared to Jazz himself. The spy was shaking as he huddled in the corner, somehow smaller than Prowl had ever seen him before. In his obviously over-charged state, he must not have heard Prowl previous attempts at communication.
"Are you alri-"
Before Prowl's processor could even comprehend what was happening, Jazz had him pinned against the wall, vibro blade stabbed into the metal next to his head.
The first thing that Prowl's brain registered was that the edge of the blade was coated in the crystals of spilt energon. He did not know who's it previously belonged to.
Prowl forced his attention back to his fellow commander. Jazz's eyes were hidden under his visor but even with it being barely two inches from his face, Prowl could tell that whatever the spy was glaring it, it was not at him. It was looking at something that neither of them could see.
This was not the first time Prowl had been witness to what was now obviously an episode of PTSD. Bluestreak had suffered from many such attacks times after the destruction of Praxus. Although Bluestreak's usually resulted in an uncharacteristic silence, not an attempt at violence. Still Prowl determined that following a similar routine to what he previously did with Bluestreak was the best cause of option.
"You are on the Ark. You are in your room. And you are safe." Prowl stated, trying not to gag on the stench of waste that overwhelmed him after he opened his mouth.
Jazz didn't respond the first time, his visor glassy as coolant leaked from under its rim. He didn't respond the second time either But by the third, the glassy look had lessened, and despite not being able to see his optics, Prowl could tell that Jazz's eyes were actually looking into Prowl's even if what they were seeing was still someone else.
Suddenly Jazz shoved him away and threw the knife so hard it embedded itself to the hilt into the wall.
Prowl watched as Jazz stalked back and forth across the room, growling nonsense to himself like a caged animal as energon leaking between his seams, splattering the floor in a illuminated coat of pink.
It wasn't until Prowl's battle computer informed him that Jazz had whether intentionally or not blocked the door, that Prowl realised how much danger he was in.
He had vowed that he wouldn't be swayed by they spy's charisma like the rest of their army had. However, it was now apparent that he too had unwittingly been left defenceless in the wake of Jazz's charms.
Prowl couldn't help glancing at the knife embedded into the wall. He calculated that his chance of survival relied entirely on it.
"Have you ever been tortured mech?" Jazz asked suddenly, startling Prowl from his thoughts.
"No." Prowl replied.
"Wouldn't recommend it." Jazz laughed without any of his usual warmth, the noise coming out delirious and fake. "I did recommend Bumblebee though. I didn't even realise that I had been moulding him into the perfect agent. I sent him on his mission. And I-" Jazz looked down at his fists, balled so tight that Prowl worried the joints would snap. "I did this to him."
"Megatron was the one who hurt Bumblebee. Not you." Prowl reminded him, keeping his sights trained on the spy as he tried to creep slowly to the opposite side of the room.
Jazz gave no outwards appearance that he had heard his words. But he also gave no indication that he hadn't either so Prowl took his chance.
"What do you need Jazz?" he asked "Do you want me to call someone for you?"
"I can't fuck Mirage."
"Okay". Prowl was not even going to attempt to decipher the meaning behind that. "I can call Rung?"
As Prowl went to look up the ship's therapist on his wrist screen, the knife appeared again. This time at his throat. Jazz's other hand surrounded his wrist. That glossy look returning to his visor.
"You can't!" Jazz begged. "If you tell Rung, he's gonna take me off missions again and he can't- I can't- I need-" Jazz struggled to find his words as his vents tripped over each other in a fight to breathe. "You- you can't tell anyone about this!"
One trait that Prowl had to reluctantly admit he had always admired about Jazz was that no matter the situation, he always exuded an aura of being in total control. That semblance of an aura was now shattered at the sight of the pleading, crying mess of a mech in front of him.
Prowl clasped his free hand over were Jazz's was currently wrapped around his arm, hoping it would ground him to their reality.
"What friends am I going to tell?" Prowl replied in honesty.
Jazz barked out a laugh. It was harsh and shrill to Prowl's audio receptors but it was real.
"Was that a fucking joke? Commander Prowl making jokes? Primus the world really is collapsing in on itself." That glassy look hadn't entirely gone from Jazz's visor. But it at least appeared to have shocked him back to this plane of existence as he finally backed away, dropping the knife and letting his other arm go limp, even if his hand still clung to Prowl's wrist.
Prowl waited a few minute as Jazz's breath caught up with his vents, until his breathing was relatively even and the room was almost bathed in silence.
"What do you need Jazz?" Prowl asked once again.
"I don't know." They were barely above a whisper, but those three words were probably the most truthful Jazz had ever been with him.
Jazz seemed to finally realise that he was still holding onto Prowl's arm as he snatched his servo back, eyes widening at the small crack in Prowl's wrist screen.
To be honest, Prowl hadn't even noticed it cracking. It didn't even hurt. He'd done more damage accidentally bumping into a desk before. And it wasn't as if this was the worst injury Jazz had ever given him. The scar on his arm stung with the reminder. But drawing attention to that would be more likely to unsettle Jazz further which would not be good for Prowl's odds of survival. Before Prowl could try to diffuse the situation on his own Jazz spoke.
"You should go." He said, now refusing to look at Prowl at all.
Despite his battle computer telling him that he should run, Prowl hesitated.
Jazz was far still from function at a state of normality but thankfully he was more stable then when he had arrived.
Yet for some reason, a part of Prowl that didn't belong to his processor, didn't want to leave the mech alone.
However it was impossible to argue with his logic circuits and Prowl knew that leaving was the only way to ensure his spark kept beating.
So with one last look at the mech that Prowl now realised that he knew next to nothing about, he left.
A/N I'm not really happy with this chapter. I've been thinking about this scene basically since I came up with the fic and I perhaps because I've been imagining it so long I'll never get it exactly how I want it. IDK. Anyway I hope you guys enjoyed it! XXxxxxx