Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Soooo… Valentine’s Day. It’s tomorrow.”

Bluestreak’s voice piped up in the unusually quiet Comm Center room, and both Jazz and Blaster raised their heads from their (lack of) work and looked over at their young sniper to see where he was going with this.

“What about it?” Jazz prompted, curiosity getting the better of him.

“Well, I mean it’s 20 years this time, isn’t it?” the grey Datsun asked. “Since you and Prowl hooked up, and wow, has time really gone by that fast? Because I remember like it was only yesterday that we were taking bets on whether or not Prowl would actually come right out and ask you, and if you would say yes.”

“Wait, you were what?!” The saboteur’s visor flickered as he processed Bluestreak’s words, flinging a datapad across the room at a giggling Blaster. “Shut it, you.”

“Oh… uh… you didn’t know about that?” Bluestreak looked around sheepishly. “I thought everyone knew.”

“Clearly I missed that memo.”

“Umm… sorry.”

Jazz regarded the two mechs in the room with him and pondered whether he ought to be angry or amused. In the end he settled for a resigned sigh. “Man, how could y’all resort to makin’ money off of the trials of my love life?” He finally turned a long-suffering smile at Bluestreak. “At least tell me you won.”

Bluestreak beamed. “Oh definitely. About $100 United States currency, and three cubes of the Twins’ special high-grade.”

“That’s all our relationship was worth huh?”

The younger mech ducked his head again. “Yeah… I mean, no! I mean… well… that’s all everyone had at the time ‘cause we’d only been here a year and we were still settling in on this planet and getting used to the changes so we didn’t have a lot to work with and… uhh…” the door panels on his back fluttered uncomfortably. “But hey! 20 years is nothing to laugh at. That’s worth a lot, lot more right?”

Jazz snorted as the sniper desperately tried to change the subject and decided to let him stew a little bit more before he put him out of his misery. “And what about you, you sorry excuse for a tape deck?” He let his chair roll across the floor and bump into Blaster’s. “What did you win?”

Blaster smirked. “What makes you think I bet on ya?”

“One, I’m your best friend. Two, who else would accompany you to all those concerts? Three, good luck convincing Tracks t’ferry your aft to Glastonbury.” Jazz matched his smirk.

“Aww now that ain’t playin’ fair.”

“I’m an Ops mech. I don’t play fair.”

The Communications expert gave a mock sigh. “Yes, yes I bet on ya. Won a new set of speakers from Ironhide for it.”

Jazz threw his hands in the air. “I don’t believe it! Three cubes of high-grade and a pair of speakers! Man, Prowl and I ought to defect to the ‘Cons.”

“And the hundred bucks,” Blaster reminded him. “Don’t forget the hundred bucks.”

“I’m sorry I asked.” Jazz rolled back to his side of the room and ran a scan of the airwaves.

It looked to be a quiet night on the radio front – just the usual accidents on the highways, a speeding car here, a bit of theft there. Nothing the humans couldn’t handle on their own. For a while, each went back to what they were doing before Bluestreak had spoken, making sure they didn’t miss any distress calls for help to combat any giant alien robots that might be plundering another power plant.

“We’re glad you two got together though,” Bluestreak said after another moment of silence had passed. “There were more of us than you think hoping you would… even Optimus.”

This time, Jazz only laughed. “Big Guy was in on it too, huh?”

“Please,” Blaster scoffed. “Whose idea did you think it was to pair you up for that run in the first place? I think his exact words were: ‘If I have to sit through another meeting where the two of them make moony eyes at each other when they think the other isn’t looking, I might just ask Ratchet to weld them together till they sort it out’.”

The saboteur made a bemused face. “I guess we did drag it out a bit.”

Blaster snorted. “A bit? Try a few million years.”

“We were in stasis for four million. Not counted.”

“Better late than never though, right?” Bluestreak asked. “So what do you have planned for tomorrow? Uhh… I mean the PG version. I really don’t need to know what happens after that.”

Both the older bots chuckled before Jazz replied. “Well, I’m taking him…”

======

“… dancing.” Prowl said the word like it was foreign to him.

For all Smokescreen knew, it might be. “That’s nice though, don’t you like dancing?”

“I am perfectly alright with dancing.” “But?” Prowl gave a rare grimace at how his fellow Praxian was able to read the twitches of his doors. Bluestreak wasn’t nearly as observant. Then again, he knew Bluestreak also had the attention span of a butterfly to pay too much attention to one thing for too long.

“But not the type of dancing I know Jazz has in mind.”

Smokescreen chuckled. “He’s taking you out to a nightspot isn’t he?”

“Yes, at least I think so.” Prowl sighed. “He says I’ll enjoy it, but honestly, while I enjoy his company I’m not sure how much I enjoy some of the activities he’s planned for our anniversaries over the years. They can be… exhausting.”

“Oh?” the diversionary tactician quirked an optic ridge. “Do explain.”

“Every year.” The second-in-command rubbed his forehead. “Every year on our anniversary he’s planned something for us to do. One year it was a hike, then a trip down to Jamaica, another one to France, a picnic at Yellowstone, mountain climbing, we saw the shipwrecks of the Java Sea; last year he got us tickets to see the Portland Philharmonic.”

Smokescreen let out a low whistle. “He’s never short of ideas, that one.”

“No, no he’s not, and while I love him for it, and for the efforts he puts into making our anniversary special. Just once, once, I would like to be able to do something for him.” Prowl rested his chin in his palm as he braced his elbow on the table. “Something quiet, with just the two of us.” Another sigh. “But I’m simply not able to match his level of creativity.”

“Can’t believe I’m actually offering you advice for once, Prowl, but perhaps you should simply just tell him,” Smokescreen suggested. “I’m sure he’ll understand.”

“I would not like to hurt his feelings after he has gone through so much effort.”

“I don’t think you would, especially not if you show him what it’s like to be on the receiving end of a special moment.” The other Datsun inclined his head. “What did you have in mind, out of curiosity?”

Prowl shrugged. “Perhaps some soft music, enjoying a few cubes of good energon under the stars, a little quiet conversation.” He scoffed at himself. “It would probably bore him to tears. I am simply not good at doing romantic things.”

Smokescreen chuckled and patted his shoulder sympathetically. “It doesn’t sound all that bad. I still think you should tell him how you feel or this may lead to some resentment later on, but if you feel now is not the right time, well, just see what he has in store tomorrow night, and you can talk about taking over next year.” He stood up and stretched himself. “Either way it’s late, and you should go get some rest for your big day tomorrow.”

The tactician let out an uncharacteristic groan and let his head drop to the table’s surface with an audible clang.

The other mech paused at the door. “Hey, you never know. You might even like the dancing this time.”

Prowl’s third sigh was a little more dramatic. “One can only hope.”

=====

The peace and silence of a pre-dawn morning around the Ark was shattered when alarms started to ring throughout the hallways. Prowl noted with a tinge of sadness, as he was roused from his own recharge, how much faster mechs tended to respond to those alarms now as compared to 20 years ago. Yet more proof that they’d been fighting this war far too long.

However, there were a couple of mechs who still seemed to be able to blissfully ignore them.

Reaching behind him, he poked the other form in the berth and was greeted with a groan and a shifting of limbs.

“Five more minutes, tell Red Alert to call back later,” Jazz mumbled as he turned onto his side and continued to recharge.

“Jazz, wake up,” Prowl said softly, but firmly, kneeling on the berth to shake his partner.

The sleepy saboteur groaned again and rolled to try and get away from the insistent white hand on his arm. “ACK!”

Prowl winced at the loud clang that followed Jazz’s impact with the floor as he rolled clean off the berth. He tried not to smile too widely when Jazz sat up rubbing his head while his visor flickered with signs of his optics coming online. “Good morning, Jazz.”

Jazz growled something unintelligible and picked himself off the floor, stalking to the door and heading out as Prowl scrambled to follow him. “I’m gonna kill whoever started the fight this time.”

“Easy Jazz.” Prowl caught up with him and passed him a cube of energon. “Happy Anniversary.” A kiss on the cheek followed. He knew the best way to placate his partner’s grumpy mood was with a little affection.

Sure enough, the Porsche’s expression softened and his pace slowed as he accepted the cube and gave Prowl a proper kiss. “Happy Anniversary, lover.” A small smile crept over his face. “Still gonna kill those Cons for choosin’ today of all days t’get frisky.”

“Of course you will, dearest.” Prowl shook his head and downed his own cube. “So let’s see what they’re up to and get it over with shall we?”

“Yeah. Faster we wipe the floor with them, faster we can head out dancin’ tonight!” The speed with which Jazz’s moods changed sometimes amazed Prowl even after 20 years together.

He still winced when he thought of the dancing though. “Ah yes, the dancing.”

Something in his voice must have caught Jazz’s attention because the saboteur tilted his head and Prowl knew he was being scrutinized. “You’re okay with dancin’ right?”

This was the opening Prowl knew he should take to perhaps let Jazz know that he preferred a slightly quieter activity this day, especially if they were going to contend with Decepticons in the first half of the day. “Of course I am.” He sighed mentally. He could face down the likes of Menasor and Bruticus without twitching a fiber, but a disappointed Jazz? That was a fear he had yet to master.

“Great, you’re gonna love it!” Jazz disposed of their empty cubes and leaned in for another kiss.

“Hey lovebirds!” Ironhide barked from a nearby doorway. “Get in here, Prime’s waitin’.”

Jazz stole the kiss anyway and chuckled as Ironhide muttered something about “fraggin’ human holidays” and followed Prowl inside the Command Center.

Optimus Prime stood before a screen and regarded them as they walked in and joined the other Autobots in the room, many of whom momentarily diverted their attention from him and turned to wish the Second- and Third-in-Command a happy 20th. Prime gave them all another moment before clearing his vocalizer.

“Happy Anniversary, you two,” he said. “I’m sorry to have to start your special day with bad news, but it seems Megatron has finally realized that it makes more sense for him to carry out his attacks under cover of darkness.”

“Took him long enough,” Tracks muttered from where he leaned against Blaster, clearly looking like how Jazz probably felt about being woken up to fight on Valentine’s Day, Prowl thought. “Though did he have to pick THIS day out of all days to figure that out?”

There were a few coughs, uncomfortable shifting and some murmurs of agreement from the rest of the group, and Prowl only had to look at the smug smile on Blaster’s face to know that he and Jazz were not the only ones celebrating the human holiday.

“Yes, unfortunately it seems he has,” Prime replied with just a barely-there touch of amusement. “And unfortunately his target is the current construction site of the new Autobot City.”

Ironhide let out an audible growl. “Then what’re we waitin’ for. I say we march in there and evict ‘em for tresspassin’ on private property!”

“And we will, Ironhide,” Prime raised a hand to placate his old friend. “But first we need a plan. Prowl?”

“Already have one, Prime,” he answered.

“That was fast,” Bluestreak commented.

“Yes, well, Tracks is not the only one with plans for today,” the tactician replied coolly. “Now listen carefully…”

=====

“Seekers and Combaticons and Insecticons, oh my,” Jazz quipped as he stifled a yawn. “It’s still far too early in the morning for this.”

Above the gathering Autobots the sky showcased a blanket of stars twinkling and bright against its black backdrop. Somewhere in the east the sun was slowly clawing its way up, but their current location was still dark as night and the light of the new moon mostly obscured by the surrounding trees.

“Jazz, pay attention!” Prowl nudged him gently, but there was a hint of amusement in his voice.

“Sorry, just thinkin’ how I’d much rather be curled up in bed with you right now.” His visor brightened as he grinned.

The Datsun shook his head. “Focus. The Aerialbots should be arriving any moment now.”

On cue, they heard the sound of five very loud jet engines roaring on to the scene, their arrival heralded by streaks of gold laser fire as they engaged the three Conehead Seekers, Vortex and Blast Off in aerial combat.

“Keep them busy,” Prowl spoke into his comm.link. “Do not let them form Bruticus.”

[You got it, Prowl,] came Silverbolt’s quick reply. [And a Happy Anniversary to you and Jazz. We’ll clean this up real quick so you two can enjoy the rest of the day.]

“That would be appreciated, Silverbolt, thank you.” He turned to face his partner, pausing for the briefest of seconds to look him over as Jazz watched the battle overhead. “Once we attack, you, Mirage and Bumblebee flush out the Insecticons. I guarantee you they’re busy chewing on the internal structure.”

“Will do, babe.” Jazz leaned in and kissed him. “You be careful out there… I love you.” He relayed Prowl’s message to his team and picked up his weapon, moving into a crouch with a fluidity that always fascinated the tactician.

“And you as well, Jazz. I love you, too.”

Prowl nodded to his commander that all was ready, then took off running after Prime as they led the charge on the ground. Jazz followed a moment after, using the distraction and the cover fire the others provided to get past the main line of Decepticons and into the City. It only took a beat for Mirage and Bumblebee to join him, both of them grinning as they ducked behind an outer wall.

“Save the well-wishes alright,” Jazz cut them off, but not without a smile of his own. “We got work t’do first.”

“Sure thing, boss,” Mirage quipped. “Where do you want us?”

“Split up and take the east and west wings. I got the south. We’re lookin’ for the bugs, so shoot first, don’t bother asking questions later. Whoever gets Bombshell, watch out for his cerebro-shells. Stay on y’toes, don’t get sloppy.”

Mirage only smirked. “Oh I hope I get Bombshell. I still have to pay him back for what he did to me 20 years ago.”

Bumblebee chuckled as he double-checked his rifle. “Make it good.”

“I always do.”

“Alright! Enough lip, get goin’!” Jazz shooed them inside, following behind and pointing out where they needed to split up. “Be careful,” he said, before he took his own route.

The sounds of the battle outside and overhead grew muffled the further he went which told him the Decepticons probably hadn’t spread all that far within the city itself before the Autobots had arrived. Jazz briefly entertained the possibility that maybe even the Insecticons hadn’t reached the south end yet, but he still moved silently, hugging the walls and letting his black-and-white coloration blend in with the slivers of light and patches of shadow.

It was too quiet. Now and then the ground tremored faintly from the fighting, but Jazz didn’t pay attention to it. He focused on the silence… so that when the air so much as twitched he was already jumping out of the way. Kickback’s legs made contact with the wall he was standing in front of a half-second later.

“Y’missed.” He twisted in mid-air and landed.

What he hadn’t counted on was that part of the floor caving in the moment his feet touched it.

He sprang up again on pure reflex and realized a second too late that his trajectory put him right in the Insecticon’s path.

“I don’t think so, Autobot,” Kickback sneered.

Jazz fired, nailing the metallic grasshopper in the head before he found himself flying backwards through the air. The last thing he remembered was a stab of pain before his vision flashed white and bled to darkness.

=====

Chapter Text

The sky had lightened considerably by the time Prowl watched the trio of smoking and/or battered Insecticons take to the sky after their retreating faction mates. The Autobots themselves were regrouping and Prowl did a quick headcount to see if everyone was accounted for. It seemed they were waiting on only Jazz and Bumblebee.

Deciding to give them a little more time to navigate their way back, he did a cursory sweep of the rest of the Autobots and found, to his relief, that there were only some surface, non-threatening injuries that Wheeljack was already patching up.

Ah flash of yellow caught his optics. Ah, there was Bumblebee coming over to check in.

“Where is Jazz?” Prowl asked as the minibot neared.

Bumblebee’s optics flickered. “He’s not out yet? I thought he might have been one of the first back.”

“He has not returned yet.”

“Oh. Well maybe he’s still finding his way back. He did take the south sector, which is furthest from here. He’s probably examining the damage those bugs did along the way.”

“Perhaps.” Perhaps on any other day, Prowl thought. But given what today was, he knew Jazz would never waste time he could be spending with his partner, especially not when he was already excited about the night’s plans. He hailed the saboteur’s comm. “Prowl to Jazz.”

Static.

“Prowl to Jazz.” His doors twitched as Bumblebee frowned. It wasn’t like Jazz to not respond if everything was alright.

“Maybe he’s just out of range.” Even as Bumblebee said this they both knew that couldn’t be the case. Jazz’s communication range was second only to that of Blaster’s. The south end of Autobot City would be well within that range.

Prowl didn’t wait to voice this. An uneasy feeling settled in his fuel tanks as he started walking to the construction site while hailing his partner a third time. “Prowl to Jazz.” He barely noticed as Bumblebee, and then Mirage, flanked him though he should have expected it. The two were part of Jazz’s team after all, and fiercely loyal to him. This loyalty had extended to Prowl a little bit over the years after the two had gotten together.

“We’ll find him, Prowl.” Mirage’s voice was steady.

“Search the sectors he sent you to previously. He might have gone looking for you. I will take the south,” Prowl instructed as they entered the partially constructed city. “If either of you do not find him, one of you join me, the other report back to Prime that Jazz is missing and we are searching for him.”

“You got it, Prowl.”

“Roger that.”

The two split up again and Prowl hurried south, this time calling out loud for his wayward partner. “Jazz?! If you can hear me, Jazz, please answer!”

His progress felt agonizingly slow, though he knew he was moving at a steady pace, as he checked every half-completed room and around every corner as overhead the dawn light filtered in through the sections with no roof. Then his fingers touched a sizeable dent in the wall that he knew no construction activity had put there. He remembered the Special Ops team had gone in to flush out the Insecticons. Had to be Kickback from the force of the dent, this logic center idly deduced. Grapple would have a field day trying to get that wall back to normal.

Said logic center almost crashed as he turned his head.

“Jazz!”

Prowl rushed to where the other black-and-white sat leaning back against a partially constructed wall. He looked to be taking a nap, if the darkened visor was any indication, but for the energon-coated iron rod sticking up from his chest, clean through his Autobot symbol. Small trickles of energon ran from the wound and down his torso to drip on the floor, almost making the symbol look like it was weeping. It would have almost been poetic if not for the slightly grey coloration Jazz’s armour had taken on.

The tactician lifted a limp black hand and noticed its rather moist condition. More energon. Jazz was sitting in a small puddle of it.

“Primus, JAZZ!” Prowl dropped the hand and cupped his lover’s face, resisting the urge to shake him lest he do more damage. “Jazz, wake up.” His thumbs caressed his cheek ridges. “Please, wake up, Jazz. Come back to me you fool mech.” Prowl’s doors fluttered erratically as he touched his forehead to the black helm, quietly pleading for him to respond.

Footsteps echoed behind him and Prowl glanced back to see Bumblebee’s horrified expression as he took in the scene.

“Prowl, what-.”

“Get Wheeljack, NOW!”

The minibot sprinted back the way he’d come as the tactician turned back to the saboteur, flinching as he saw a flicker of dim blue light beneath the visor.

“Keep it down, love… Tryin’ t’sleep.” Jazz voice slurred softly.

Prowl’s logic center nearly crashed a second time as it argued that there was no way Jazz should technically still be alive from a wound like that. “Shut up, you fool,” he said softly, a small smile crossing his features. “Save your energy.” His hands searched for a fuel port on Jazz’s side and popped it open.

“Not much… Save yours.”

“Jazz, if you think I am going to let you deactivate today of all days, just so you can achieve clichéd tragic, melodramatic glory for your demise, you are seriously mistaken.” Prowl opened a corresponding port on his own side and attached a tube between them, slowly pumping some of his own energon into Jazz’s body. “Find another day to get yourself slagged, because I am not up to playing to the stereotype of hysterical anguished lover.”

The saboteur resisted the urge to chuckle. “S’not what I… heard… a moment ago.”

Damn his superior hearing even when only semi-conscious. “I thought you might have already died… and I was whispering, not screaming hysterically. There’s a difference.” Prowl kissed the black helm affectionately. “How do you get yourself into these messes?”

“ ‘m creative.”

“Clearly.” He knew that as long as Jazz stayed conscious till they managed to get him to Ratchet, the chances of him surviving went up. “Though perhaps this might be a little too creative.”

A weak smile. “How else…” The pause was longer his time and Prowl kissed his helm again. “… else am I supposed to… getcha t’declare… y’undyin’ love for me?”

“You exaggerate as usual, Jazz. I tell you that I love you all the time.” Prowl’s thumbs continued to stroke over the saboteur’s cheeks as he mentally willed him to stay awake. “I just don’t shout it from the top of the volcano as you are wont to do.”

“Like t’hear it echo.”

“Of course you do.”

Hurried footsteps sounded behind him as Wheeljack reached them and skidded to a stop on his knees. Without a word, he took stock of Jazz’s injury and got to work cutting through the iron rod that stuck out from the wall so they could move the saboteur without dislodging the rod that was still in his chassis.

“Prowl…” Jazz slurred again.

“Shh, Jazz… you’re going to be alright,” Prowl assured as he held his partner while Wheeljack cut him free. “Though we might have to postpone our dance tonight.”

“Sssorry… would have liked it…”

“What was it? I’m sure it can be rescheduled.” On Wheeljack’s cue, Prowl removed the energon transfer tube.

“Waltz… workshop.” Finally free of the wall, Jazz slumped against the tactician, alarming Prowl with how much energon had actually flowed down his back, unseen till now.

Wheeljack, too, shook his head. “He needs to get to a medbay pronto. He’s still losing energon and Primus only knows what other damage that rod did. It’s too close to his spark chamber.”

Heavier footsteps followed as Optimus Prime himself made his presence known, having heard the last part of Wheeljack’s comment. “Then we have no time to lose. The Aerialbots are ready to fly him back to the Ark. Give him to me.”

“Prowl…”

The tactician hated how much weaker that lovely voice sounded as he relinquished his hold on the saboteur and Prime lifted him carefully into his arms as if he weighed nothing at all. Given the amount of energon on the floor, that was not a far-off assumption to make. “It’s alright, Jazz. Optimus has you, and I’m right here.”

“Hi, Op.”

“Hello, Jazz.” Prime started to walk, careful not to jostle him. “Just hang on for a little longer. We’ll get you to Ratchet.”

Wheeljack stood as well. “Whatever you do, don’t remove that rod from his chest,” he said. “That’s probably the only thing plugging the energon leak. Dislodge that and he’ll bleed out in seconds.”

Prowl tried not to imagine that possibility as he followed Prime back into the open.

=====

It looked to be a beautiful day, Prowl observed as they laid Jazz on the hastily rigged canvas hammock that was to be carried between the four smaller Aerialbots. Had it been a routine morning, Jazz would have been lying under the sun on a makeshift bed of wildflowers and grass instead, waiting for Prowl to eventually come out and haul him back inside lest too much sun overheat his circuits.

The tactician made up his mind to completely decimate whatever Decepticon problem they were faced with the next time, particularly if they involved Insecticons.

“Prowl…” Jazz was drifting in and out of consciousness now, energon starting to slowly stain the canvas he was lying on.

“Yes, Jazz?” He looked down and smiled fondly at his partner.

“I want flowers…” he returned a weak smile of his own. “You’ll bring me flowers right?”

“Of course I will,” Prowl assured. “Now lie still. They’re taking you home.”

“Flowers? Why the slag does he want flowers?” Slingshot asked in confusion. “He’s not dying right? Is that why he wants flowers?”

Silverbolt sighed sharply. “Shut up and fly.” Prowl stepped back as the four smaller jets rose into the sky with their – his – precious cargo between them. The Aerialbot leader transformed and fired up his engines. “Climb on, Prowl. You’re just small enough that I can carry you.”

Prowl looked to his leader.

“What are you looking at me for? Go on,” Prime chided, but his optics were kind. “I can bring the rest of this rabble home on my own, you know.”

“I will keep that in mind, Sir,” the tactician replied as he climbed onto Silverbolt’s back and found a grip, lowering his doorwings to reduce the drag on them as they flew.

They caught up to the group soon enough with Silverbolt’s speed and made steady progress, Prowl constantly scanning Jazz’s vitals which were already in the red when he’d found him. Right now they hovered just above offlining completely, and Prowl knew if two or more vital systems crashed, they would lose him before they ever reached the Ark.

“He went offline not long after we took off,” Skydive informed him.

“I don’t like seeing him like this,” Fireflight said. “I’ve never seen him so still and… and quiet… it doesn’t feel right. It’s like I’m almost waiting for him to wake up and start singing or something.”

“Zip it, Flight.” Air Raid’s voice lacked its usual cheer. “Prowl can hear you.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Prowl replied. “But if you ever want to hear Jazz sing again, I will appreciate it if you could focus your energy and attention into flying.”

“Ah, yes. Yes, of course… umm, Sir.”

Fireflight thankfully remained quiet for the rest of the flight, and not long after the summit of their current volcanic home came into view, and down below, the familiar white forms of Ratchet and First Aid. As Silverbolt landed and allowed Prowl to slide off his back before he transformed, the medics approached as the remaining four Aerialbots lowered their precious cargo to the ground.

Prowl hurried over just as Ratchet reached Jazz’s prone form and scanned him, vaguely aware of the other Aerialbots reverting to robot mode behind him. The CMO frowned at the readings and snapped an order to First Aid who immediately ran back inside.

“Ratchet, how-.” Prowl started to ask.

“He’s alive, barely.” Ratchet turned to the four Aerialbots who’d carried Jazz. “You four, grab the canvas and get him to my med bay pronto. Jostle him and I’ll have your wings.”

Quickly, the four scrambled to do as he said, Prowl and Silverbolt joining them so they could move faster as they followed Ratchet into the med bay and laid him down on a slab that First Aid had already gone ahead to prepare. Immediately, the younger medic started hooking up the saboteur to various equipment, one of which Prowl noticed was an energon transfer machine.

Ratchet turned to the rest. “Unless your name is Prowl, get out of my medbay and make yourself useful elsewhere. Don’t even THINK of scrapping yourselves because I WILL leave you to suffer the consequences of your stupidity.” Prowl moved closer to observe Jazz as Silverbolt quickly ushered his brothers out. “And you,” Ratchet turned to the tactician. “Get some energon in you to replenish what you donated to him.”

“What about-.”

“Do you want an update, or do you want me to save his life?”

“Noted.” Prowl turned and went to the med bay’s energon dispenser, filling up a cube and then staying well out of the way as First Aid started to cut away some of Jazz’s chest armour surrounding the rod.

Ratchet cursed under his breath as he started to shut down power to some of Jazz’s non-essential systems, rerouting the charge to vital systems so he could shut them down safely before they crashed from lack of energy or further damage. Prowl winced audibly when he heard the whine of a high-powered precision laser charging up, knowing Ratchet needed it to cut through the tougher metal of Jazz’s internal frame. Just how much damage had that blasted rod done?

He got his answer what felt like hours later, when First Aid approached him and gently touched his forearm, bringing him out of the light powered-down state he’d fallen into.

“He’s stable,” the younger medic said. “It was a close call though. The rod hit his spark casing, nicked a bit of his spark and broke a fuel line close to his pump. He’s alright!” First Aid raised his hands to keep Prowl from leaping to his feet in alarm. “Like I said, he’s stable. I wouldn’t be talking to you otherwise.”

Prowl inhaled and tried to calm his tense circuits. “His spark…”

“Is fine. He has a strong spark. The nick was probably what initially shut him down and made him lose color, and the energon loss stopped it from repairing itself, but your energon donation was enough for his spark to fix itself and keep him alive though there was no way to patch the line till we got him here.”

“A close call indeed.”

First Aid nodded. “Unfortunately it’s going to be a while till he’s back on his feet, and a bit longer than that before he can return to duty. Ratchet has to rebuild his spark casing and we have to rebuild the rest of his internal framework that both the rod damaged and we had to cut away.”

Prowl nodded in turn. “How long?”

“Mm… two to three weeks at least. We have to keep him in isolation at least until his spark casing is reinstalled. His spark is vulnerable till then and we need to minimize the risk factors.”

“Will I be able to see him?”

Now the medic hesitated a bit. “Once the casing is replaced, I’m sure Ratchet will have no problems with you keeping him company. It should… be a few days… or so.”

It shouldn’t have bothered him. He had gone days without seeing Jazz before, whenever the mech was off on some mission or other; this shouldn’t have been any different. Except it was. And there was nothing much he could do about it. In terms of medical matters Ratchet’s authority overrode his own and that was not taking into account that he himself would never put Jazz’s health at risk to satisfy his own desire to be near his partner.

“I understand.”

First Aid seemed to sympathize with his situation. “I’d get some rest and a little more energon if I were you. You did give him quite a bit, and it helped his situation immensely. Plus, like I said, he has a very strong spark, so it might not even be that long before he’s ready for visitors. Ratchet or I will let you know first, as soon as he is.”

His logic center reasoned that First Aid made perfect sense, and the sooner he was out of their hands, the sooner the medics could go back to working on Jazz. He knew what had to be done, even if it hurt him a little to just leave his partner alone.

“Thank you, First Aid,” he said. “Please do everything you can for him.”

“Of course.”

The younger medic walked back to join Ratchet as Prowl headed to the door.