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Being trapped had never bothered him. Getting riled up over something like that never helped matters. Unlike Jazz that had never been a fear of his. Loss of control scared him, being unable to figure something out when someone's life depended on him scared him. Being trapped was another puzzle to be solved, not something to make him doubt and fear. So why did this situation make him feel as if the room were closing in tight around him, being trapped and confined.
'Run.' It was an order, sharp and holding that hint of command that Prowl usually had when he spoke to someone that was in need of direction. This wasn't him. This wasn't how he acted, how he held himself or presented himself to the world. This...the need to get out of the room and away from the only mech that really understood him was unreasonable and illogical and controlling him far more than it should have been. He knew this, he acknowledged it, but he couldn't seem to fight his way through it. Not with Jazz pressing him just now, not with his processors in a flurry trying to work through everything at once. He tried putting them one at a time in front of him, but each one kept spawning new questions and tangled up in his processors in a viscous cycle.
His optics finally slipped red and stayed that way, the nature of his spark screaming at him as it swung from calm and ordered into full chaos. "Step off Jazz. Get back now." He felt the powerful need to do violence, to fight his way out of this situation and get to higher ground where he could think and plan and figure it out. But Jazz wasn't going to hurt him, he knew that with everything he had.
Prowl took a moment and used his intakes, forcing himself under control with a force that he knew he wasn't capable of. Not this far out of his comfort zone. Someone or something was pushing him, how he didn't know, but it was happening. Someone with a force of will stronger than he had. Was this effect coming from Jazz, despite the bond not being really in place? Was this the effect being close to a spark so completely compatible to his own had?
Jazz was too close, he decided. "I have no answers for you." Too close. His spark was starting to whine inside his chassis again, pulsing painfully and darting back and forth inside his frame as it was pulled in two directions at once. Something inside him was pulled taunt, and with the other so close, and nowhere else to go, it snapped.
It was only sheer determination that kept him from making the attempt to drop the other mech, to incapacitate him. Instead he lunged forward in a blur of speed he had never shown before and should be nearly impossible in bipedal mode for a mech his size and build, latching onto Jazz with both hands and reversing their positions before letting the other go. With his back no longer against a wall that tight knot inside him loosened considerably, reason returned and he was able to reign himself in. "Do not back me into a corner like that again Jazz. I don't know why you feel the way you do, I have no answers for your questions. I don't understand interpersonal matters enough to navigate my own way, nonetheless yours."
He settled, finally back in his own comfort zone, though he didn't know where the shift had come from. Had it been proximity or simply the releasing of stress when he'd been backed into a literal wall? He didn't know, and Jazz didn't deserve to deal with his mood swings. "This," He splayed his hand across his chassis and made a motion outwards towards the general proximity of the smaller mech's chassis as well. "I have no words for. It is as it is, and I have accepted that. The only thing I know for certain is that we are spark compatible, something that was rare for our kind even before the war." He dipped his head a little to one side and regarded the mech across from him.
His hand went back to his own chassis, which was a little sore but his spark wasn't paining him anymore. "I don't know how to help you."
The change of optic color had been enough to cause some alarm. Having only been brief before hadn't bothered him much but now it did. Though he didn't have enough time to process what was going on before the next move was made. And boy, was it made! One moment Prowl was where he should have been, and in the next he felt himself being moved about. Every part of him locked up, instinct telling him to fight back and plant his pedes the best he could. Sure, he tried at least, but against the larger mech? All that happened was a screeching sound of metal skidding along the floor. When everything was over Jazz was against the wall. Not held there, at least not anymore, but there none the less. His visor flickered and his breath hitched some in a very brief panic, though when he was able to take a small step away from the wall it subsided and he pushed the air from his vents.
For that smallest of moments, that was not Prowl. No, someone else had come on the scene and taken over. He took note of everything that had happened there to be saved away for later in the case he needed it. If something- or someone- else was influencing Prowl he would need to be aware of anything that would come off as being familiar to what had gone down in that instant. For one not trained to change them? It was funny how one didn't really recognize their own actions and how they could be almost directly linked back to the source; their own personal little traitors.
"Good thing you accepted it, I guess, cause I ain't been able to for the life of me." Jazz vented softly. "Thought the spark capability thing was myth, really. Ain't heard about any two bein' like that in the time I've been- okay, that's a lie. There's been a couple that I've heard of, but ain't actually...." He had to pause and back up with what Prowl had said. He. They. Spark capable? Now that was definitely weird. "Hold the phone. You... you're serious?" Well, it would have explained a lot, then. "Okay, well... I guess that maybe sort of answers what I was wondering about." Count on Prowl to figure that out and leave Jazz in the dark over it. And he was the secretive one?
"And here I thought it was just your good looks that had me stumblin'." There was a small chuckle given by the smaller mech, as if just to lighten the mood that had been rather sour for far too long already. Then he looked at his partner and grinned. "I mean, that doesn't change that your good looks have somethin' to do with it. Just not everythin'. But... I'll still compliment you on your good looks."
Small talk. Jazz was usually good about it but somehow that spark-compatible thing had completely thrown him off. So now there he was, leaning against the wall and rubbing the back of his helm in his typical nervous manner.
"It was either accept it or have it crash my processors every time I thought about it too hard." Offered the words flatly. But honestly, Jazz looked about how he'd felt when he'd figured it out for himself the first time. Confused most certainly, out of sorts also. And Prowl was back in his proper mindset at last, at least he thought he was. The considering Jazz as a thread thing wasn't normal, but it was ebbing off now that he'd planted the smaller mech against the wall. An act of aggression eased the tension in his frame, though it bothered his spark. Also, as he was slowly noticing as his normal processes returned, he had his pedes planted further apart than his size required, as if accommodating a larger frame. And one that was ready to launch itself to battle at a moment's notice. That was not Prowl's style at all and he corrected his posture finally so that his hands were resting behind his back and he was in the 'at ease' position.
"It is not a myth, I assure you. I did an obsessive amount of research shortly after I started suspecting something was off with myself." That Jazz looked so confused confirmed something for him, something that he realized he'd made a choice in error over. "You didn't know? I assumed you did, since you never brought it up to me. I thought you knew and were waiting for me to figure it out, since I wouldn't have believed it if you told me." Not that he'd call Jazz a liar, but just that he often needed to figure things out on his own to believe them.
Prowl chose to ignore the comment on his looks, though his doorwings twitched in an irritated flick even as he forced them to remain aloft and mostly still. Control returned, finally. It eased his spark to be back in his proper processor, even if things lingered that shouldn't be there. And Jazz was rambling. So, it was time to put them on a path away from the current situation. Using his tactical skills to avoid a personal problem? Absolutely.
"There's something else I've been meaning to speak to you about. I have not told anyone else, but I know you'll believe me. I am missing a significant chunk of time in my memory banks. I remember being stationed on Earth, being given command of the base and those soldiers sent with me. However, I don't recall Optimus arriving to Earth and relieving me of duty. Or Ratchet, or Magnus, or you. Many of those that are here, and the power structure we have, I often find myself questioning when it came to be. Also why I draw a blank on some of the soldiers, why I fail to recognize mechs that I have the sense that I should know on sight."
Jazz would have answered Prowl in regards to not knowing they were compatible. He hadn't known for sure but he suspected something was up when his spark kept being triggered whenever he was too close to Prowl. Though he hadn't assumed it was anything more than the usual 'Hey, I have a thing for you and I hope you do too' type situation. It was fascinating, but confusing and... perhaps a little disheartening as well. Here they were, perfect, and Prowl didn't seem to even be interested in divulging in it. Perhaps Prowl really didn't have feelings for him outside of their close personal friendship...
Though he didn't have the chance to respond. Prowl was already moving on to another topic.
Right away, what Prowl said struck a cord and he looked up to the taller mech quizzically. He listened, picking out where Prowl's memories started and stopped and seemed to blur out somewhere in the middle. Where their memories were correct and where the others didn't meet correctly. He pushed off from the wall and went to sit on the desk again, wanting to be more comfortable as he thought over everything that had been said to him. When Prowl was done was when Jazz pipped up with his own information.
"You too, huh?" Jazz hummed softly and swung his pedes back and forth as he put his servos against the top of the desk then leaned back. "I can't say that my memories are the same, though. I remember everythin' that happened on Cybertron, then the Ark takin' off. We were trackin' a signal from a planet called Earth then..." His visor's light dulled around the edges as he tried to remember everything that he could, but towards where the gap started for him it wasn't as clear.
"The Nemesis. We were engaged in a firefight with them and..." Jazz frowned then looked up at Prowl again. "I don't remember arrivin' to Earth or what happened after the Decepticons caught up with us. I just woke up today from recharge and I was here. I don't know some of the faces of the soldiers, but I feel like I should. They know me, but I don't know how much of it is through them actually knowin' me and what of it is just through reputation. But now I'm confused about us again. You remember something completely different from me, but... you were on the Ark with me when we left Cybertron. That shouldn't... can't be possible, unless I'm rememberin' a lot less than you are."
Prowl was glad the conversation had turned. He knew they'd eventually have to come back to it, but for now it was past them. He needed time to idle out, and talking about something that was easier to deal with would help with that. He walked back and forth in a slow gait, not pacing so much as walking while he thought. Which he did allot when on duty. Usually just from one side of his desk, to the far wall, then back to his chair to sit. He actually came up with some of his most advanced tactics while walking about.
That Jazz was experiencing a similar phenomenon as he was got his attention, doorwings perking just slightly as he crossed his arms over his chassis and gave the other his full attention once again. "I last saw you in Tyger Pax, but the time is a bit foggy for me." He admitted, considering things based on the information he'd just been given and his own memories. "I don't believe I've ever been on the Ark, but I could be wrong."
He crossed the room to brace his side against the desk Jazz was sitting on, feeling himself fall into the familiar pattern that had been set between them for ages. They bounced ideas off each other, figured things out, got things done. Comfortable, compatible, and functional. "So our memories differ even from one another. Which rules out singular tampering of our processors, because then logically things would line up better. For consistency. So with that being so what can alter memory so spectacularly in a Cybertronian and not leave any sort of proof?"
His spark actually hummed at him, idling in a state of contentment now that he and Jazz weren't at odds anymore. In a way, changing the subject was the best thing for them just now. Facing things all at once was asking to make Prowl crash, or run from the situation. So a change of topic was right on track. Later, when he'd had a bit of time to process what had happened today, he'd revisit the situation. Probably.
"Tyger Pax? Hm. I haven't been there since towards the early days of the war. I don't think you'd be missing that much time. Unless, of course, there are bits and pieces removed and put together elsewhere but I doubt someone would go through so much trouble. At least not if they're havin' to do it with multiple individuals."
Jazz swung his pedes back and forth as he thought over things to himself. He couldn't sit still at any given point, so when he was thinking was even more inclined to move. But now that Prowl was so close to him? He didn't want to get up and walk around. He wanted to stay like this with his partner, but necessity came to be too great to ignore. He stood up from the desk and walked to one side of the room to the other in a casual stroll while looking at the floor the entire time.
"I can't think of anything that would cause somethin' like this. Unless it's some weird tear into our reality that hasn't started to heal yet. But that's gettin' into all that scientific stuff that I can't even start to understand."
This was frustrating. He couldn't remember anything that Prowl had made mention and they were always together. So if he had been stationed somewhere Jazz should have been there if he weren't out on a mission. "I guess at some point we had to have made it to Earth if you were stationed here and you were on the Ark in my memory but... in yours you weren't on the ship and never have been and in mine I ain't been in Tyger Pax since before you knew me."
Jazz tapped his left index digit against his chin then he let out a grumble and went back to the desk. He sat down on it again, slightly closer to where Prowl was but still far enough away as not to make it uncomfortable for either of them. Sure, his spark was still being a grouchy pain, but it was easier to ignore now that he had something he actually had to focus pretty hard on.
"This is gonna sound weird but... do you think you and I may be from some different reality? I mean, I know the Earthlin's been talkin' about multiple dimensions for a while and Cybertronian scientists shared that opinion. Ya think maybe somehow things may have overlapped?"
"Logically speaking, such a rift would have been noticed by multiple individuals, perhaps even recorded somewhere even if by some means the knowledge was forgotten by the ones that originally reported it. Time is fluid, and reality is infinite in its processes. So it is a possibility." He considered things as he strummed his fingers against his chassis, hip rested against the desk and watching Jazz move. "It certainly bares further investigation." A project Prowl would happily take on, and then present to Optimus once he had evidence that something was going on.
The tactician moved over until his arm was braced to one side of Jazz's frame, a position he'd taken many times when they were speaking in a private setting and working on a matter. It helped him think, being close to the controlled chaos that was Jazz. Which was odd, since most chaos caused his processors to ache. It probably had to do with their compatibility towards one another, but he wasn't about to say that.
"I remember that we've done this many times since coming to Earth, in a room together discussing whatever matter had stumped one or the other. Being each others sounding board. I remember having various fairly heated debates with you when we disagree during a meeting, which usually carried on well after the actual meeting. None of these memories are very clear, as if they do not belong to me, more like I am watching them through another's optics. I remember being around you, working with you, but not when you arrived on Earth. Not when it was you adapted to this planet's culture, when the missions became different because of the planet itself. Half of the time I have to look up when you arrived and figure out how long we've even been on Earth, because I forget."
So, the theory Jazz was presenting was a sound one.
Jazz didn't notice that Prowl was closer to him, too lost in his own thoughts. He was hearing everything that was being said but that's about the extent of his attention. This whole thing had him confused and as Prowl explained the multitude of situations that they had been like this and how they had interacted. The situations were familiar but not the locations. Well, if there were rips in dimensions then at least it was nice knowing that their relationship didn't change. Creatures of habit. Like an old married couple.
'Stop that.'
"I don't remember ever arrivin' on Earth. To be honest? When I came outta recharge today I thought I woulda found myself still in chains and locked away in my cell on the Nemesis. That's just how dire our situation was." That thought sent an uncomfortable ripple through Jazz's frame. The thought of all of them being prisoners to a bunch of cons like the ones who were directly under Megatron's command was less than favorable. They would probably toss each of them out of an airlock one by one and take bets on who would hit the surface first had the chance been given. But how was this now? How had things changed? "I don't even know how I picked up on some of these Earth phrases and why I got all this stuff saved in my processor. Languages, culture, random facts and music... it's all there, but I don't remember gettin' any of it. But it comes so naturally that I don't even notice. Like it's been part of me forever."
Jazz vented again and bowed his helm forward as he dimmed his visor while thinking. What he said had made sense but he wasn't a scientist, this wasn't his forte. He would have to find Wheeljack and see if he could maybe come up with some viable reason behind why there were so many gaps in memory.
"The Nemesis?" His spark clenched. It was widely known that one simply didn't get off the Nemesis once one became a prisoner there. So that Jazz had been there, that he'd been hurt and in so much danger? It set something off deep inside him, spark clenching in pain. This was also something he'd done before, when Jazz had come back late from a mission. Fussing without breaking character. He shifted and planted his hands on either side of the smaller mech, pinning his legs to the desk with his body so he could look the other over critically. Why hadn't he checked him before? Was he injured? Had he been attended by Ratchet already or were the previous injuries gone?
"Jazz, you are not on that ship. And if I have any say in the matter you will never go there again." His tone was sharp, fierce, but he acknowledged this. He only got this way when something had gone wrong. So rarely. But his spark demanded he shift the way he stood, that he address this matter and reassure Jazz that he was safe. Or reassure himself, in a fashion. The proximity had bothered him only a few minutes ago, now it was paramount for checking the other mech over in a swift and efficient fashion.
He vented softly, idling down as his frame relaxed and he slowly moved back from Jazz. "You are unharmed?" He finally asked, though his scans had told him that there was nothing amiss. His own scanners couldn't be trusted at the moment, so he asked. The Nemesis was a nightmare of enormous proportions. He wouldn't wish that place on anyone, least of all Jazz.
Change the topic, get back on track. "The last memory I had before the restless energy got to me I was keeping Starscream's attempts to procure the energon on this planet at bay while awaiting Optimus' arrival. I...I believe I have about a week of time in my active memory, with a large gap between." So his memory included the past week as well.
What seemed like normal wear and tear from a distance was far from that and only being this up and close and personal could have identified that for those with an untrained optic. Prowl would have been able to see various chips here and there, dents, scuffs and odd paint transfers. Ther was also a spiral chip in his visor off to the side accompanied by a dent that looked like someone had socked Jazz something good with either a fist or an object. A burn from what appeared to be a graze from blaster fire was on his shoulder, though that was harder to see since it was dark and on the black paint there. None of the damage had been repaired but it had been there for at least a week or two from the soot that had gathered in and around the varying wounds. There seemed to be a pinched cable in his neck, as though pressure had been applied to it. Signs of battle or some kind of squrmish, but nothing that Jazz had made mention of or been involved with since he had 'woken up' here.
The mech wasn't paying attention to Prowl's new location. He had his helm tilted down as he tried to think things over and had pretty much gotten distracted. Making mention of the Nemesis had brought it back to Jazz and he seemed to lose himself in that moment. He was trying to remember more of it, attempting to piece together what had happened. The Nemesis... the dark... the cries of anguish from his fellow Autobots. Why couldn't he remember everything? What was his memory core stalling on? What was being kept from him?
He was still lost in that world when Prowl shifted and moved in front of him, but his sensors were still quite aware of what was going on in the present and they brought him back with enough force that his frame shuddered but he hadn't entirely registered where he was just yet. His field flashed panic at someone being too close and he jerked where he sat, leaning back on the desk since his legs were unable to move from the pinning. All he could do was stare back, though the sporadic flickering of his visor showed signs of some sense of panic alongside the sudden tensing of his frame.
Trapped. Get away. Run.
That voice. It was familiar, and it wasn't a Decepticon. Stop.
It had only taken a second to come back to reality, to Jazz it felt like it had been a bit longer. Clearly there was something a little off on his timeline but he didn't want to bring it up. The tense air between them had just settled and things were returning to normal so he didn't want to ruin it now. Though the tone Prowl used wasn't gentle and tender, it was just as effective with reassuring Jazz and settling him- just as it always was. If Prowl had been more soft spoken he may have still been in that dark descent he had found himself falling into.
Prowl was so close to him. His spark felt lighter, calmer, when it could sense the beat of the other's so near. Now that he had been told why, he was able to at least ignore it with more ease since it seemed to be ( at least he understood it to be ) nothing more than a capability thing to Prowl. Jazz would just need to eventually come to terms with that.
'It's alright. I understand. It will take time...' Time would heal that ache.
"Well, if nothin' else ya can at least take comfort in knowin' it was Starscream ya were keepin' away. Cause we both know that 'Con couldn't make wine outta grapes if it was bottled up and ready to go for him. But yeah, the time lapse is a little concernin'. I... dunno how much time I'm missin' myself cause I can't remember everythin'. It's like somethin's bein' blocked out and I can't get my memory core to leggo of that prize. I may try to see Ratchet," Jazz shuddered some and made a face, "... and see if he's got some gadget to convince it to loosen up."
"Come on, Prowler. Ya outta know that there ain't a cell anywhere that can hold me for long. You couldn't find one, so they definitely ain't gonna." This was true, at least in Jazz's memory.
Long before the War had started the two had been on opposite sides of the law, with Prowl as the straight edge Enforcer that could never be bribed, and Jazz under the assumed alias of 'Sparkbeat' who partook in not-so-legal extracurricular activities and and black market dealings. The two had met several times, usually with Prowl being left in the dust of the much more agile and oddly resourceful smaller mech. Though there were times when Jazz did get caught, and those were the most fun. No matter how hard Prowl tried, he could never keep Jazz locked up for long and he would usually find the cell empty and the cuffs placed in various places around his office. This continued until Jazz got himself out of the game- when 'Meister' and 'Sparkbeat' both ceased to exist and he got his new lease on life. At least when the two paired up again after the start of the War they were on the same side and though Prowl had never made mention of being familiar with Jazz, he figured he must have been since he kept a very keen optic on him for a long time.
"There ain't been a Decepticon yet who can catch me. Can't hurt what they can't catch. So as long as I keep tryin' to outrun the wind, ya ain't gotta worry 'bout me."
It was as if some sort of veil had been throw over the spy's features. Until Jazz had spoken he hadn't even noticed the damages covering his frame. It was in noticing the damage that his spark clenched again. He was truly concerned for the smaller mech, but didn't know how to express his concern without spiraling the other back into his darker memories. This was out of his field of expertise, and with Jazz involved there was no one for him to ask.
He'd moved back, but scooted back in again with the sensation of feeling reassured by the closeness. Rather his own or Jazz's he wasn't certain, but it worked. "Jazz?"
He vented softly, turning his head. Well, they were off the topic again, weren't they? Was that for the best? He didn't know. "If...if you feel wrong from your injuries I will accompany you to see Ratchet." If that would help Jazz feel safer. Prowl was very aware of his partner's aversion to the medbay and medics in particular. He vented again, finally allowing for the other to change the subject even as he stayed as he was, shifting so that his hands were to either side of the other black and white mech and his frame was pinning Jazz's legs to the table. Now, of course, Jazz could get away from him if he wished. He wouldn't stop him. The illusion of being trapped was there, but they both knew Jazz wasn't really trapped.
"I can catch you, if I put my processors to the task." And didn't get distracted by something else.
There was a hitch in Jazz's vents as the suggestion of the medic was brought up. It hadn't even crossed his processor that he should see the medic since his HUD hadn't reported anything. Heck, it hadn't even said he had damage at all! Was this part of the issue with whatever odd memory lapses they were experiencing? Did they mess up with registering things like injuries? Jazz didn't even remember receiving damage. Now the other issue with the situation was that even though he could tell Prowl to go see Ratchet and the tactician would usually listen ( eventually ), Jazz was a different story. Hearing that he should go? Well, he could have been a malfunctioning mess and he would still find some way to excuse having to enter the medbay.
"No no, it's fine." He gave a nervous smile and turned his helm to the side. He spotted the scorch to his shoulder and gave it a questioning look, surprised about it, but shrugged it off. "I'll see him. Eventually. I'm sure most of what's wrong will just be fixed up by my self repair."
When he turned his helm back, it was to notice Prowl moving in close to him again. He was fully conscious of it this time so it didn't startle him. That was probably a good thing for them both. Really it wasn't uncomfortable since it was for one, Prowl, and for two... it wasn't unwanted. Now the thing he said did make him smile and warmed up his spark, which made it pulse gently in reaction to the small bit of happiness.
"Oh Prowler. Even you couldn't catch me if I didn't want'cha to." Jazz slowly moved his servos to place them over Prowl's own. He was timid about it at first, waiting to see if Prowl would pull them away from his touch. When he found them staying put, his smile only grew and he delicately laced his digits between those of the tacticians. He didn't hold them tight so that if Prowl wanted to free himself he could, just as he was allowing for Jazz to escape if he felt the need. But the smaller mech enjoyed this closeness and only hoped that the other would remain this way for a bit. He leaned forward some as his frame finally relaxed, a clear sign of his enjoyment of this closeness that he was being allowed. "Ain't gonna lie... I like it when ya do. I don't mind when it's your net that I'm bein' snared in. So keep chasin' and catchin' me, okay?"
"Jazz. If I have to track you down and drag you in to see Ratchet after this escapade on the Nemesis I will not be pleased." He delivered the words deadpan, completely serious in his proclamation. But the way his frame shifted, the still red set to his optics that hadn't gone away, said otherwise for what he was thinking. He was hyper focused, looking over each little dent and scorch mark that marred the others frame with a sort of off intent that he'd never shown before.
Eventually. As in might never actually go for this matter at all, but rather sometime in the far future due to a more serious injury. He flinched when he was touched, but didn't draw away, doorwings fanning into a more neutral position since he wasn't technically on duty and holding doorwings still for long periods of time tended to make them kink up at the wires. Not that he was saying that to Jazz, but still.
"You have no idea what it is I am capable of." He actually drooped his head to Jazz's shoulder, the red 'V' across his helm touching the plating there for a long moment. "Don't make me chase you down over this Jazz. It bothers me that you're injured. If you don't want to go by yourself I'll go with you. This isn't one of our chases as in the past. I will not abide you being damaged like this. I refuse."
Every word was listened to. Usually Jazz would have let anything he found to be scolding to go in one audial and out the other, but not this time. Prowl... something seemed a little different about this and it wasn't just the red in his optics. His words had a tone to him that he wasn't used to. Sure, others had heard this strict side of him- Jazz had too on multiple occasions- but somehow this was off. He didn't want to question it, though, and he brushed it off as maybe just having something to do with the oddity in whatever was going on. So he sat there and let himself be inspected.
Was it odd that he felt alright with that? Almost... pleased by it? It made him feel like all those priceless pieces he'd seen time and time again being looked over by those who collected them. Yeah, it was probably a little weird, but Jazz didn't mind. It actually made him shift a little as though allowing Prowl to have a better look of him. It was when Prowl's forehelm touched his shoulder that his spark jumped in his chest. It pulsed gently, singing with the same happiness that Jazz was feeling at having the tactician so close to him. Though Jazz didn't verbalize it, there was no hiding what his spark was saying.
"Alright..." he finally agreed. His voice had dropped to a whisper but it was directly spoken into Prowl's audial so there was no questioning what was said. "I'll see Ratchet. I promise. I'll go on m'own and if I can't do it, I'll get ya ta come with me." Jazz looked at Prowl as he rested there against his shoulder, not wanting to make any sudden movements that would cause his partner to pull away from him. Jazz vented harshly to gather his nerve then made his move, which was just as simple as tilting his helm to the side so he could rest it against the side of Prowl's own. During this time his engine revved, something that Jazz commonly did when he was exceptionally happy, and just let it trial off to silence on its own.
"Prowl? Stay with me like this for a bit. Jus' a lil' while."
Well now that that matter was settled he could stand down, which was for the best. His spark still hurt, though it was in dull pulses every so often and fading the longer he stayed as he was. This was a bit more towards the far side of personal matters than he usually liked to get. But again, it was Jazz, and Jazz was special. That was something that would never be said aloud, but was acknowledged as a solid fact.
He remained as he was, flinching again when Jazz changed positions against him. At least that was all he was doing, and he silently hoped Jazz knew him well enough to realize it was an ingrained reaction rather than something personal to the saboteur in question. It was how he was raised, and a very old protocol ingrained into his subroutines. Touch was bad, touch was against the rules, the rules must be followed or punishment would be swift. The only time you touched someone was to help carry them from the battlefield, or to place your back to theirs to help somehow. With his doorwings having someone at his back caused severe paranoia all on its own. That too was personal to him. Jazz had only set that particular reaction off the first few times it had happened, but not after he'd gotten used to the other mech. There were some that still caused him to give them a bit of a wide berth, lest they flick a doorwing.
Stay with him? Where else would he go? Of course, that thought prompted him to restart his processors so that he'd stop acting so illogical. The tense edge to his body eased off, falling back into the blank state he usually existed in. No more fierce reaction, it wasn't needed now that Jazz was cooperating. It drained something of him to be that way, to maintain that level of aggression and force. Like it wasn't native to his person, nonetheless his spark. Another question to add to the list of ones he had to ask Ratchet about.
"For a moment." Such a simple thing to make Jazz happy with him. After what he'd put him through today it was the least he could do. He had his hands still on the table to either side of the smaller mech, and realized then, that this was the closest to anyone he'd ever been in his entire existence. Physically as well as emotionally. Jazz was his best friend, that much he'd freely admit to. "I'm sorry for my temperament today. I haven't really been myself and you didn't deserve to be at the brunt edge of it all. Please forgive me."
@jazz
Shoutbox
Please respect the space and don't hesitate to ask questions!
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Jun 14, 2023 22:40:34 GMT
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