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"When's your next appointment?" Jazz asked, lounging in the chair sitting diagonal to Prowl's desk. Jazz had put it into Prowl's old office at the Ark, and before then at Iacon. Always perfectly placed so he could see both Prowl and the door at the same time. It was Jazz's chair.
"A few minutes." Prowl glanced up, a small, wry smile on his lips. "Shouldn't you leave?"
"Nah, I think I'll stick around." Jazz grinned, settling into his chair, with its cushions molded to his frame from years of use. "Just pretend I'm not here."
Prowl shook his head, turning back to his datapad. Who was it that he was seeing in a few minutes? Oh, yes, Ironhide. Something about… oh, Prowl couldn't remember. No worries there, Ironhide would no doubt bring up the subject when he came in.
"Y'been pretty forgetful lately," Jazz said. Had Prowl been muttering aloud?
Prowl waved the unspoken concerns away. "It's just the stress."
Jazz hummed, and fell silent. "You been takin' your meds, Prowler?" Jazz asked after a couple minutes of silence.
"Hm? No, you know I hate taking them."
"They're good for you, Prowl."
Prowl rolled his optics. "I don't need them." His door pinged. "Come in!"
Ironhide entered, sitting down in the guest chair before Prowl's desk. He cast a brief glance towards Jazz, but didn't seem perturbed by the saboteur's presence. "Uhhh, I need to go over security for next week's celebration."
"Celebration?" Prowl asked, even as he pulled the correct datapad from the stacks on his desk.
"Yeah, for one year without war."
Prowl paused. "Has it been a year already?"
Jazz laughed. "You're too wrapped up in your work, love."
Prowl cast a glare Jazz's way. Ironhide frowned too, but had the grace not to look at Jazz. The meeting went over well, in Prowl's opinion. Being a subordinate tactician in Optimus Prime's security wasn't a bad gig, all things considered. Prowl didn't mind that it wasn't a glamorous job. They'd clearly wanted him out of sight when it was given to him.
Ironhide got up to leave, his old joints groaning as he rose from his chair. In a nonchalant voice, he said, "When was the last time you saw Rung, Prowl?"
Prowl frowned. "A few months, I believe. Why?"
"You should set an appointment. Our first year without war… seeing it marked down is bringin' up bad memories for everyone." Ironhide glanced again at Jazz, and then left. Prowl, bemused but unbothered, re-sorted his datapads and got to work in earnest.
Later that day, Prowl found himself at Bluestreak's apartment, in the company of Bluestreak, Jazz, Smokescreen, Sideswipe, and Sunstreaker. It was a quiet gathering, mostly chatter, a few cubes of highgrade but not enough to get drunk.
Prowl sat away from the others, content to watch, Jazz by his side on the couch. Sideswipe regaled the group with one of his stories, mostly fiction but with enough truth that Prowl could recognize the mission from which the tale stemmed.
Sideswipe flailed his arms to demonstrate a particularly adventurous stage of his hero's journey. The others laughed, even Sunstreaker, their faces split with wide smiles as they entertained Sideswipe's story.
"It's good t'see 'em laughing," Jazz murmured.
Prowl glanced at Jazz, feeling a small smile touch his lips. "They're adapting well to a life without war."
"An' you aren't?" Jazz turned his head to Prowl. His visor seemed to pierce through to Prowl's spark.
"Well–"
"Hey Prowl!" Bluestreak bounced over, sitting down on the couch arm by Prowl's elbow. "You okay? You aren't talking much."
Prowl smiled up at his fellow Praxian. "I'm alright, Blue, thank you. We're simply sitting in comfortable silence." He tipped a wing to Jazz.
Bluestreak glanced at Jazz, and his smile flickered. "Right." His smile brightened. "I'll leave you to it."
Bluestreak wandered back to the twins. Sideswipe took the grey Praxian under his arm, bending his head to listen to Bluestreak's whisper. Sideswipe's optics darted to Prowl, and then Sunstreaker was pausing in his drinking, clearly listening to the bond he shared with his twin.
"Gossipers," Prowl muttered aside to Jazz.
Jazz chuckled. "Let 'em. It don't hurt anyone."
"Are you serious?!" Smokescreen's outraged voice rang out, halting all conversation. He got to his pedes, storming over to Prowl. "Prowl, have you been taking your medication?"
Prowl straightened up, taken aback. "No, why?"
Smokescreen's expression twisted. "You have to take your medication, Prowl otherwise–"
"You all need to get off my back with that!" Prowl snapped. "First Jazz, now you, I don't understand why you all think I need to take my–"
"Stop, just stop." Smokescreen's servos were clenched into fists at his side. He trembled as if with anger. Over his shoulder to the other three, he said, "I don't get why you're all letting him do this. It's not good for him."
"Letting me do–"
"I don't want to hurt him!" Bluestreak cried, his expression stricken.
Smokescreen swiped his hand through the air in a cutting motion. "You're letting him lie to himself!" He turned to Prowl. There was something behind Smokescreen's optics, something pained and terrible. "Prowl–"
"Smokescreen, stop," Bluestreak said in a hard voice. "You're going to hurt him."
Prowl shook his head. "I don't understand what's going on." He glanced at Jazz. "What's going on?" Jazz just shrugged helplessly.
Smokescreen let out a shout of frustration. "Damnit Prowl, Jazz is dead, stop pretending otherwise!"
"Smokescreen!" Bluestreak's shocked, stern voice rang out.
Prowl stared up at his friend. "No he isn't, Smokey, he's right here." He gestured aside to Jazz– but Jazz wasn't there. "Damnit, you made him leave!"
"He was never there in the first place!" Smokescreen's expression flickered between anger and agony. He held out his hands beseechingly. "Prowl you have to take your meds, you have to see Rung. This isn't good for you, this- this forgetting!"
Prowl stood up from the couch. "I haven't forgotten anything, Smokescreen. Jazz is still here. Not-not right here, but he'll be back soon. You all saw him!"
"We didn't see slag, Prowl, because he wasn't there. He died! He died when they opened the Allspark! He's been dead for almost a year!"
Prowl shook his head. "I won't listen to this." He turned, intending to leave. Smokescreen caught his arm.
"You're destroying yourself, Prowl."
Prowl stared into Smokescreen's pained optics and felt like crying. "There's nothing wrong with me," Prowl whispered. Wrenching his arm from Smokescreen's grasp, he left.
The journey back to his apartment was a blur. He didn't remember driving there after the fact, could hardly visualize walking up the stairs, typing in his door-code, locking the door behind him.
"Oh, Prowl," Jazz murmured from the couch in the living room. He opened his arms, and Prowl dove into them, breathing in the scent of his beloved, relishing in the warmth.
"I'm sorry Smokescreen was so rude," Prowl murmured. "I don't understand what came over him."
Jazz's hands stroked over Prowl's arms, his wings, his helm. "You need to take your medication, Prowl."
Prowl sat up with a frown. "Why does everyone keep telling me that! You know I hate them."
"They'll help you, Prowl." Jazz smiled sadly. "You know I love you, so, so much."
Prowl felt his throat tighten, felt tears bead at the corners of his optics. He didn't know why. "I love you too, Jazz." He gasped, felt those tears release and trickle down his cheeks.
Jazz reached up, wiping away a drop of thin solvent from Prowl's chin. "An' you know that I will always be here for you, always. Even if you can't see me, I'm always here, watchin' over you, lovin' you."
"I know."
Jazz's smiled flickered. "Smokey's right, Prowl. I know this. You know it too, you've just decided to forget."
Prowl recoiled. "What? Why are you–"
"I died, Prowl. I'm gone." Jazz took Prowl's hands in his own. "I never imagined you'd hurt so much."
"I loved you! I-I love you." Prowl heard his voice, high and shaky, strangled with tears.
Tears fell from beneath Jazz's visor, plopping down from his chin. "You have to take your m–"
"No!"
"You have to take your meds, love. You need to."
Prowl shook his head vehemently. "I won't, I don't need them."
"You do. They'll help you, make you better."
"But I-but I won't…" Prowl gasped for breath.
"You won't see me when you take them, Prowler. But that doesn't mean I won't be there." Jazz laid a hand over Prowl's spark. "I'm always lookin' out for you, love."
A terrible, terrible thought came to mind. Slowly, Prowl said, "If… if you're dead, then what if I just…" He glanced at the shelf where he kept his blaster.
"No!" Jazz took Prowl's face in both his hands and forced Prowl's gaze to Jazz's. "No, you won't do that, Prowl."
Prowl let out a breathless sob. "But I want to see you. I want to be with you."
"Oh, sweetspark." Jazz brushed a thumb over Prowl's cheek, wiping away his tears. "We'll have all of eternity one day. But you still have a life to live. Smokey, Blue, they love you. They need you."
"And I need you."
"You'll have me." Jazz pressed their foreheads together. "We'll be together again, Prowl, when the Allspark fills the sky. Live now, Prowl, and live well. You'll see me again. We can spend eternity together."
Prowl's world was faded, foggy, hidden behind his tears. He could hardly see the shine of Jazz's visor as he sobbed, broken and frightened. Jazz held Prowl close, and Prowl could feel Jazz's own tears wetting their clasped hands.
"Prowl," Jazz whispered. He pressed something into Prowl's hand. It was a pill, Prowl's medication. Prowl hated the sight of it.
"I don't want to," Prowl whispered.
"I know, love." Jazz pressed a kiss to Prowl's lips, to each of his optics, to the center of his chevron. "Take it. Remember that I'm always with you, and I'll never stop loving you." He guided Prowl's hands to his mouth, urged him to take the pill between his lips and swallow.
Prowl closed his optics tight. He shuddered with grief, felt Jazz's own shaking frame against his own. Prowl tried to commit this to memory. Jazz's scent, his warmth, his voice, the feeling of his fingers laced with Prowl's.
"I love you, Prowl," Jazz murmured. "So, so much."
"I love you, Jazz."
With gentle hands, Jazz pulled away, laid Prowl down on the couch. Soft lips pressed against Prowl's brow, leaving a lingering warmth that cooled too quickly. Prowl held Jazz's hand, scared to let go, scared to open his optics. Jazz took Prowl's hand in both his own, pressing a kiss to Prowl's knuckles.
"When the world is new, we'll have eternity to spend together, my love," Jazz said softly, oh so softly. "I'll see you again, Prowler. I promise."
His hand slipped from Prowl's. Terror soared in Prowl's chest, and he opened his optics.
His living room was empty. There was no one there.
Prowl felt like screaming. He could only weep.