A/N:

Disclaimer: I don't own any Transformer franchises.
G1 with bits of IDW, Bayverse, and War For Cybertron (WFC).

I expect chapters to be shorter overall thru the story, but this chapter ended up a lot longer.

This is written for both new readers and those who read "Emotions". Inside this story contains "Emotions" recaps and a 7 mega-orn gap between fics. Events during the gap will be replayed through flashbacks, like when Prowl's tac-set was restarted. I'm saving that for what I consider delicious reasons.

An explanation of changes between "Emotions" & "Risk" (e.g. POV frame change) can be found in my user profile, to keep this A/N less cluttered. Same goes with definitions, like emotion filters.

IMPORTANT final note: If you don't understand what the AI says in this chapter, don't worry; it's largely just demonstrating a starting point for the AI's thinking & communicating. That'll change as a war-centered tactical AI named Barricade becomes something a bit more cannon-like.


Not many off-duty actions riled Jazz's gears, but Ironhide was making a habit of repeating one such activity over and over. Worse was Jazz couldn't say or do anything about it, despite a hot need to do so right now. Berating a mech for daring to spend time in his own quarters wasn't exactly sane or reasonable, and no amount of application of Jazz's considerable skills in misdirection would hide that fact. Nor could he give a reason or lie for why he needed Ironhide to be anywhere else without coming across as petulant and probably a bit shifty.

His true reason was that Ironhide's quarters were sandwiched between his and Prowl's quarters, but that little factoid was an obstacle he easily overcame until almost 2 mega-orns ago. There weren't any new physical restrictions blocking the slinky Ops mech as he moved through the officers' emergency-only exit tunnel, tucked indiscreetly behind all officer quarters. Unrestrained movement wasn't the hard-stop issue, but rather the sudden inability to sneak silently as he passed behind the wall shared by tunnel and Hide's quarters. If Ironhide would just stop sleeping, entertaining, or engaging in whatever personal hobbies that had warrior-sharpened hearing within range, Jazz wouldn't have cared. As it was now he was forced to care, and Jazz was convinced that Hide's hobbies included following unseen forces guiding him to unwittingly become an effective road-block for the saboteur.

For the most part, when on-base during the past 2 mega-orns, he repeatedly resigned himself to only having one of his few methods for enjoying time with his label-free companion: the private alone time available by fake training sessions behind locked officers-only doors. For Jazz that one avenue sufficed plenty in the beginning, as being the only option during the first half of the 7 mega-orns since starting their undefined relationship. Just after crossing that halfway threshold two positive changes occurred, followed by two very negative changes barely a few deca-orns later, bringing back trace memories and yearnings of a loss Jazz had forgotten.

Those positive changes and new options came about when Prowl finally passed the period of heightened medical attention on his health. When Prowl no longer required active out-patient monitoring by his brothers and medics his arguments made short work of any attempts to still continue. Prowl never elaborated much about the contents of such arguments, beyond the persistence of Bluestreak wanting to still recharge with Prowl. That admission came only after Bluestreak nearly caught them because the young mech had another nightmare about Prowl's near-death and made an impromptu visit to his brotherly cousin's quarters.

Sharp and sudden increases in outside noises snatched his attention, resulting in a glare directed at the wall separating Hide's and his quarters. Despite the soundproofing he detected Ironhide's laughter being joined by Ratchet's, courtesy of his agitated state and sophisticated audial systems. Ratchet was another one of his occasional road-blockers, but one he and Prowl mostly got around by convincing him anything suspicious on the spark sensor readouts was from rigorous "training."

Dizziness swept Jazz's system and his tired frame started swaying again. His processor ache was getting worse, and now seemingly radiating the pain through his spinal strut. All he wanted was to recharge and recover but such hopes were for not, while alone and in a hyper-vigilant mindset. If he knew he could slip undetected to Prowl's quarters via that tunnel or the hallways without practically seizing up from Red-worthy paranoia he'd have done so, but between witnesses and Red Alert's cameras, everything ultimately came up as a no-go option.

It was all rather twisted as if to mock him; Jazz was too wound in a dangerous Special Ops way to make his way somehow to Prowl's or trust a commlink request, and the only way Jazz could safely unwind was to recharge with Prowl. A mere handful of joors ago he returned from what was supposed to be a 6-orn training course with several of his Earth- and non-Earth-stationed agents, in northern Canada. They weren't even a quarter of the way through when they stumbled across a Decepticon reconnaissance taskforce. Help wasn't an option for many reasons, forcing him, his Earth team, and Earth-ignorant agents into playing a dangerous secrecy game.

Jazz wrenched his mind to away from the details, having finally finished obsessing and listing all those reasons and observations in a lengthy report. He'd be going over it all in an officer meeting soon enough. Instead he changed his attention to focus on calmer realities and slowing down non-critical systems with repeat override codes. His off-word agents were safely dispatched to Special Op check-in points and Blaster was monitoring their travels; his Earth agents were finally calmed down as much as their personalities allowed, and he managed to fake a passable state during First Aid's check with only an exhaustion and tension warning. He retired to his quarters as promised, but not much else.

These were the times Jazz most missed what a partner or co-habiting mech could offer: security. Alas, besides it being unseemly for the TIC to have a roomie, his role as Head of Special Ops made it impossible to share. The ratio of dangerous items to normal ones in his quarters heavily favored danger, and most of those were disguised as normal items. A glance to his desk and entertainment table suggested he had more stylus pens than Prowl, but in reality only two could be used for their apparent use.

There was also his love for dancing, singing, and other loud activities. To have a roomie he'd need to find someone of near-equal rank, educated on safety within a living space of a Special Ops mechs, know how to diffuse any triggered reactions or nightmares, and generally enjoy the same things when as him when he wasn't in XOps-mode. Without that match or close enough near-compatible, his systems, sophisticated devices, and grids were his roommates. They could secure a room tight, were coded to identify hidden weapons, could be forced to improve or ignore his entertainment activities, and while they couldn't help him work through a trigger he could at least replace them should he inadvertently destroy them.

He assumed no better option would present itself once he became TIC. Something akin to an option made itself acutely known when he and Prowl finally were able to recharge in his quarters without any interference or distractions. The first time they recharged together, back when Prowl was recovering, Jazz made the stipulation he recharge on the berth's outside edge so he could disengage from Prowl if an angry Ratchet came looking. The first time they recharged without precautions for worried family or nosy medics Prowl insisted that Jazz go through his recharge routine in detail with him. After listening the tactician offered his own simplified solution: that Prowl sleep on the outside and Jazz on the inside. Prowl offered to keep his doorwings outward with the sensors turned fully on to detect even abnormal air currents, so long as Jazz behaved by keeping his hands and mouth to himself. Jazz could partway prop himself up so he'd have instant view of the room over Prowl's prone form.

Those doorwings and a mind capable of being as sharp and predatory as him "ruined" Jazz by becoming his newest addiction. Jazz craved that kind of stress-free recharge. He modified Prowl's room to have a security system duplicate to his own, masking the upgrades under other necessary upgrades he personally did to everyone's quarters. Prowl didn't think he could do it with Red touting right on his heels, but he managed to wear down the security director by doing Prime's room before Prowl's. Inferno had to gather up the distraught and exhausted officer, leaving Jazz to do as he pleased to Prowl's quarters (within permission).

"Jazz!" a stern voice snapped from outside his door. He jumped and turned mid-air to face the surprise before registering it as Prowl's. "Open this door. We're finishing the reports now. I don't care if it takes all night, and I'm not listening to your excuses about being too busy because of another mission. I'm tired of you putting these off."

Jazz commanded the door open and barely finished his reply, "Lead the way," before Prowl pushed his way inside the room. Hallway voices were briefly heard, with Ironhide's laughter suggesting his quarters' door was left open. When the noises were muffled again Jazz glimpsed Prowl's arms filled with datapads.

He watched Prowl set them down on his table. "What's on those?"

"Absolutely nothing. I just grabbed an armful of spare datapads from my office and walked here with a crossed expression to avoid questions." He flicked a doorwing with indifference. "First Aid comm'ed me a little bit ago for a routine check-in and mentioned in passing that Ratchet and Prime were looking at some new imports in Ironhide's quarters. When I probed for an update on you he added that he wasn't entirely certain you'll be ready to resume on-board officer responsibilities next shift."

The tactician glanced back at the pile, taking a moment to straighten the corners. "I think I actually have a few work items for you back in my office, but from First Aid's reply I thought it unlikely your mindset has adequately adapted to the role of stationed officer running a base. "

"What a sweet way to say 'too fragged up to sit through regular reports.'"

Prowl ignored the tease. "I also opted to not take the time and search for them underneath the pile Prime evidently left me, in the chance you were about to recharge alone."

Jazz's anxiety subsided temporarily enough for an affectionate smile at that admission. It wasn't the first time Prowl took the initiative to prove a cover story, but outside of actually bringing work the mech didn't bother because his efforts tended to make Jazz sound like a total slacker and Prowl a complete hardaft. Such was the case now but Jazz didn't care. If anything, others would automatically excuse the secretly-fake accusations due to his mission, while adding the exchange as another marker of proof for their perceptions of a cold tactician. Not that SIC had any emotional investment in fixing their perceptions, and Jazz's current interests didn't include another explanation about the subject.

The TIC's smile turned coy. "Should I start timing my reports around Prime's new workload handoff, so you stop bringing reports waiting on me with you or to your quarters?"

"Do that and I'll take away one of your security mice droids."

"Don't be cruel," he protested with an exaggerated pout. "Now help me get through my routine before I'm nearly dead on my peds again." Allowing Prowl to know, let alone participate in Jazz's pre-recharge routine took significant trust, aside from revealing just how neurotic and distrusting he could be underneath the partying music-enthusiast. Much of that trust bridge was forged by knowing Prowl faced similar struggles, albeit of a more personal nature, with equal gravity should a mistake occur.

Rather than reply, his guest moved to the furthest corner of the living section for Jazz's quarters. He glided around the vase holding drumsticks, knowing they weren't actually drumsticks. Standing on the tips of peds to reach the corner, he pressed a code against the buttons hidden beneath the wall surface. Activating one section of the top detection grid complete, he continued moving downward until he activated the next three, to provide ceiling-to-floor coverage.

Jazz wasted no time doing the same until they completed all sensor locations, from walls to furniture, for all but the berth area. After Wheeljack accidently setoff emergency protocols to automatically open all doors (which thankfully had enough mechs scrambling to hide their own secrets or stashes – or in the case of a few officers looking for ways to bust their "favorite" Autobot soldiers – that no one noticed the pair in mid overload), Jazz installed holographic one-way dividers in his and Prowl's quarters to hide the berth from an open door. Directional sound mufflers also adorned those dividers for the same reasons.

Prowl waited for Jazz to finish all but the last task, keeping his thoughts to himself about disruptive habits. It wasn't his place to point out Jazz's, even though he considered it when Jazz pressed him for allowing modifications in his own quarters. In the end he agreed because how could he not accept Jazz's core-deep problems when Jazz accepted his?

Jazz initiated the timer for his "mice," or a secondary scanning system with mobility and climbing capabilities. By the end the tasks drained what little renewed energy Prowl's entrance brought him. He crawled onto his berth and settled on the wedged pillow to view the whole quarters.

Prowl handed him his knee pillow for alleviating strain from his hip's permanent damage, keeping his hand on the furthest because he knew to not yet touch the saboteur. When Jazz was done Prowl laid down on his side by the edge, as flat as possible with his doorwings fanning off the edge. Optimally spread and angled for detecting motion, frequencies, temperatures, etc. throughout the room, he reset the sensors to near maximum sensitivity. He inquired softly, "Would you like me to read to you until you fall asleep?"

"Are your doorwing sensors set at max?" the surveying mech instead asked.

"Ninety percent. I'll turn them up to 100% once I'm done reading, so I don't get excessive feedback of my own voice."

"What about 95%?"

"Ninety-three percent is the max I can do before it becomes an ache."

Jazz shortly nodded once. "Do that."

"It's done. Do you want me to read to you?"

"Very quietly."

"Of course, I won't speak loud enough to mask other sounds," Prowl acknowledged the fear, knowing this was just how Jazz was when he couldn't decompress. There was really only one type of reading material that worked in these cases.

He pulled out a datapad from his subspace, mostly memorized in case of this so he could watch Jazz. His voice was so low it was near mute but he knew Jazz's audios would hear him just fine. "Energon supply reserves, consumption rates, and risks for last week, as submitted yesterday by Hound and analyzed by me. Consumption rates are organized by day and shift, which I compare against schedule roster to see if any consumption rate spikes or dips correspond with a single or set of Autobots. Day one, shift one: Hound reports..."

Prowl started into the report, often glancing at Jazz's visor to watch for any dimming from slowly initiating recharge. He had real reading material, but he found that Jazz was quicker to fall asleep listening to daily reports about positive normal and safe operations. He suspected listening to it walked Jazz back from that DANGER EVERYWHERE edge and welcomed him back to a world of secured normality. Helped him return to being a mech who planned fun outings for bored Autobots; a mech who sometimes woke Prowl up by playfully nibbling on his fingers.

When Prowl finished the comprehensive report he noted with a sweep of his optics and doorwing sensors that Jazz was almost in recharge. He pulled out a second datapad. "Routine maintenances checks, as cumulatively prepared by the following Autobots..."

After finishing the first eighth he finally detected Jazz falling completely into recharge. While he strongly preferred to keep his doorwing sensors down to 25% when not gathering tactical data, he knew better than to have anything less than 100% when Jazz was still in these stages. He made sure he wouldn't roll into Jazz's prone form, but he did move his hand close to Jazz's wedge pillow. Prowl turned up his hand's sensors all the way, knowing that their unique heightened sensitivity would be enough to sense distress in Jazz's upper body. Committed to recharging in that position, he offlined.

Prowl's doorwing and hand sensors pulled him out of recharge prematurely when movement was detected, but when the alerts came back with a zero-danger rating - well, a danger rating close enough to be negligible - he opted for ignoring it and fall back into recharge. Those intentions changed when that "non-suspicious movement" ended with a hot mouth nipping his neck's muscle cables. His optics onlined and he found Jazz's upper body rolling into his chassis, the saboteur very much awake and stretching out a crick in his waist from the awkward recharge angle.

"Feeling better?" Prowl quietly inquired, all heightened senses and sensors focused on detecting any outward signs of Jazz's mental state that might be described in the Autobot physiatrists classification database as a concerning sign. A database not meant for anyone lacking proper trained in evaluating and deducing as such, but Prowl was never keen on waiting for an evaluation by what few physiatrists were left over a cryptic file masking all identity indicators; rather, he often opted to pair his unlimited access to the database with his statistical knowledge and own databases. So far his success ratings weren't below a failing threshold, at least.

"Mmhmm."

"May I turn my doorwing sensors down to their normal level?"

"Mmhmm, unless you're feeling daring to feel something stronger than 25% input."

"I'm not." Prowl took that allowance as evidence Jazz was at or near functional for typical base operations. He turned all of his sensors back to his normal sensitivity ranges, including those in his hand. Prowl deliberately never told Jazz about the hand sensors, uncertain what a hyper-vigilant or interface-wanting Jazz would do with that information.

"Okay," his berth partner easily accepted. "Thanks for coming over here."

"You're welcome."

Jazz chuckled at the polite reply, spoken as if his mouth wasn't hovering over Prowl's neck and his hands weren't languidly moving down Prowl's body. His movements were deliberately slow for reasons besides building a mood, but because of the worries in the back of his mind pointed to a lingering sense of danger.

All of the TIC's ghosting touches came to a sudden stop, when Prowl's hand softly tapped a cable port by his midsection. Jazz ex-vented against his requestor's neck, burying his face. "Sorry, but not now, Prowler."

"Why?" Prowl protested at being stopped over a hardline connection with Jazz.

Jazz shook his helm, dragging it across Prowl's shoulder. "I'm still running too hot to risk a data connection with you. I know how important it is to you, but I can't promise that during an overload I won't automatically rush you with hostile data."

When Jazz felt his companion ever-so-slightly slump forward, he brought his hands up to Prowl's face. He guided the mech's face to his own, knowing that what Prowl wanted was direction. A large chuck of why Prowl wanted Jazz's feedback data was to direct his efforts and plans. If Prowl didn't get the chance to satisfy the needs that stemmed from being an obsessive planner, then the next best solution was to literally drag Prowl's attention in the direction Jazz wanted it and tell him the plan. "How about you let me burn off my excess attentiveness while you relax? No data needed."

The argument was met with a frown. "You know how difficult it is for me to overload without data."

'Oh yes, I so do.' Jazz was very familiar with the issue they ran into once Prowl's tac-set was back up and running smoothly. Without something occupying the tac-set during interfacing it tended to gnaw at Prowl and consistently interrupt to the point of killing the mood, insisting that it not be left idle when work could be done. For the first couple of interfaces it left Jazz frustrated and Prowl in a mixed state of confusion and agitation.

After that Jazz asked Prowl had he used to overcome the problem for an overload, given Prowl's admission about his previous "lover" (a label too strong for what the mech meant to Prowl). Prowl explained that by meeting the mech for an interface in a private room inside Iacon's primary Theoretician's Wing, tapped into the nearby super-computer and used it to keep his tac-set completely occupied elsewhere. The revelation made for some interesting images for Jazz on what a frag against a super-computer in a sort of "double" interface might entail.

Without the availability of a super-computer that either will willing to use for such reasons, since neither saw diverting any of Teletraan as an option, Jazz sought out ways to overcome the challenge. He downloaded and modified pre-war strategy plans so that he could feed the "new" data to the tac-set, which was easily the strangest interfacing activity Jazz had ever done for a non-target. His plans involved slowly modifying the data to be less about corporate strategies and more Jazz-flavored, from entertainment to personal relationships, but for now it was too early to introduce those topics without a flat out rejection by the tac-set.

Jazz glided a finger around a hip strut and then dipped the fingertip into a seam to brush a sensor. "We've got the time, and my systems are running plenty hot. Just focus on feeling the moment and don't resist any needs or reactions."

Prowl stifled the last half of his groan but failed at preventing his leg from automatically rotating away to free the seam. He pushed back against Jazz's chassis; not hard enough to ruin Jazz's mood but enough to make Jazz look him in the optics. "And what of you?" His hand tentatively brushed a chassis seam.

The visored mech caught the hand. "Don't worry about me, Prowler. Like I said, my systems are running plenty hot. I don't need help getting revved up. Might need the exact opposite, but I'll take staying the same until you join me."

Jazz rolled his whole body over Prowl's, using the fluid movement to kick his knee pillow off the berth and straddle Prowl. He didn't tell Prowl that the reason they had time was because he'd come out of interrupted recharge needing to make sure Prowl was still the mech he was steadily, hesitantly, becoming dependent upon for helping him end his demons sooner than when left on his own. Nor did he want to tell Prowl that a hardline might have problems before the overload, as those demons were merely smaller and not gone.

Words wouldn't purge the saboteur of those demons, touches, sounds, movements, and tastes could put them to rest for at least a little while. Jazz listened to rising and falling crescendo mewling he heard and knew came at the touch of the doorwings; seeing the sharp back arches paired with light gasps as he rolled two digits along panel edges; feeling/hearing the small wing flutters fighting to stay calm at the mercy of his caress, and a moan both stuttered and stifled when he tasted the sweetened residue of spray cleaners that usually dried inside the neglected seams of Prowl's form.

The cleaner dried inside those seams washed out easily enough during showers, but Prowl used the cleaner early into his shifts and often enough, so that taste was almost as much a part of Prowl as any other. Jazz enjoyed knowing he was the only one who knew Prowl's hands and a few side seams were perpetually covered in dry cleaner residue, Prowl having become so accustomed to it he no longer noticed and medics rarely doing such detailed checks on a rifle-carrying tactician.

Jazz also enjoyed the sweet airy taste because it reminded him of festivals and energon artisan corners from before the war. That wasn't by coincidence, but by design. Before their first interface but after some intimate fun Jazz noticed the dried texture and chemicals of standard cleaners on Prowl's fingers, plus seams where aerosol blowback landed but the doorwinger couldn't easily wash. The taste and smell wasn't particularly pleasing, not to mention probably unsafe to risk accumulation inside fuel tanks, so Jazz gifted Prowl with a large supply of (fuel tank friendly) surface cleaners better than any available on base. The taste imbued into a piece of Prowl's every-orn activities was Jazz's secret mark on Prowl, to know that this was the Prowl he trusted and never an imposture, because only his Prowl tasted like home.

Despite Jazz's efforts to control the atmosphere, the tactician wasn't ready to allow his cognitive abilities to be reduced to nothingness. His other hand reached for an audial horn and slowly moved his touches down the seams and vents to Jazz's jawline.

Using tactical touches, position changes, and a few other methods Jazz knew, both managed to bleed off Jazz's excess energy. Their efforts lasted perhaps twice as long as normal, but even Prowl was more content despite the tac-set's "nagging" about it idle state. Both were spent and dropped back, with Prowl lying on his back and on top of Jazz.

When their systems were both cool enough Prowl more-or-less moved to untwist his body. Jazz waited until Prowl stopped moving before commenting on his own state. "Dunno about you, but I'm ready to finish recharge."

"Indeed, a much needed requirement for me as well."

"In this spot, aka sprawled on top of me?" Jazz was surprised at Prowl's completely absent protest at this much cuddling.

Prowl moved his helm as little as possible to look Jazz in the visor. "I'm good if you're good."

A soft smile returned to Jazz's face and he wrapped one ankle strut around Prowl's closest ankle strut. "I'm good. Just didn't think you changed your mind about so much touching outside of interfacing."

Prowl watched Jazz's visor dim, feeling his own systems shut down as well. "I'm glad you're back," he finally answered after seeing Jazz's real smile return.

When Jazz's visor was offline and his own vision almost completely dark, Prowl mumbled the last words still on his mind."I suppose having to wait to hear if you were safe or captured by those 'Cons had some unexpected effect on me."

Prowl roused first, persistent internal schedule alerts going off like an evacuation drill pulling him out of an incomplete recharge. He read only the first few before dismissing them all, realizing he was very low on time before his shift started. Jazz was still wrapped around Prowl even after tilting onto his side. Prowl squirmed and flexed his doorwings, trying to push the sound recharger's limbs away. His efforts received a groan and a follow-on reward of Jazz squeezing him tighter.

Prowl kept his voice low but firm to get his captor's attention. "Jazz."

Jazz onlined some to his name but didn't want to bother finish his bootup sequence. "I'm calling in sick."

"That's for you, Prime, and a medic to sort out. I need you to let me go."

"Can't. You're sick so you have to stay here."

"Let go or I'll command Teletraan to override the ban list to play something from 'Most Hated Songs on Base' over your speakers. Perhaps 'This is the Song that Never Ends'."

Jazz's limbs flew away and smacked the berth flat. "You wouldn't dare violate your own ban."

Prowl climbed off of Jazz and off the berth. "Are you going to tell on me? Are you willing to give up your secrets to report me for such?"

"Abuse, man. That's totally abuse of power. I'll submit an anonymous report about your dirty tricks," Jazz grinned and flipped over so he could watch Prowl examine his unclean armor. 'Such dirty tricks,' he lewdly tacked on.

Prowl's nose crinkled as he created a task list for cleaning up in Jazz's private washracks. "That's quite the challenge you're setting up for yourself. Any officer would recognize your written linguistic style, name attached or not. When we get called into Prime's office to explain be sure to have your story well-rehearsed."

"Puh-lease. All my scheduled lies are well-rehearsed and I've long mastered improv. Spec Ops got the rhythm, moves, and tunes down for dancing our way outta trouble."

"Riiiight. Well, I'm going to use your washracks and head straight to my office."

Jazz purred, "Need – "

"No."

" – Help?"

Prowl looked Jazz over, ignoring his own retort to Jazz's attempted satisfaction for this particular type of post-mission libido, favoring instead to re-analyze Jazz. From his discrete data-gathering efforts on the mech, the Praxian understood there were some missions with an aftereffect on the Polyhexian resulting in a high repeatability cycle of mission- interface- interface again. His longest lasting hypothesis about the root cause behind the behavior had something to do with Jazz reaffirming his body, mind, and life were still intact; however, since Prowl had yet to figure out how to breech the subject, he continued to observe until he was better certain about his theories and how to present them.

For now he tried to be as flexible as his own schedule allowed to meet Jazz's key needs from him, or those that couldn't be met by Jazz's friends. Prowl's schedule was often more rigid, domineering, and unyielding than his own stance on soldiers sharing drinks after possible enemy activity detected, but if Prowl could calculate 800 moving objects' trajectories in under a split-klik, finding solutions to move a joor's work around once in a while couldn't be proclaimed as infeasible.

For the several times his tac-set complained about Jazz, he thought of Jazz's confession that part of what made Prowl uniquely special to him. Within Jazz's many contacts, the saboteur saw Prowl possibly as the only one with who would (and could) listen without judgment/fear over what dark choices and memories weighing Jazz down, or brought him out of recharge in a violent terror; he could grasp the mental struggle of what living with a "sabotage/kill list tucked away in one stained hand, party favors shopping list pristinely displayed to all in the other" could do to a mech.

Granted, Prowl never once had to shop for party favors, and for what emotional struggles laid behind Jazz's woes were of a near-completely different variety than Prowl's, but the tactician wasn't without anything of comparable value in his own personal responsibilities.

Even if that wasn't true, if he truly had no way of grasping Jazz's troubles of integrating his halves of the morale-keeper and the Special Ops leader, that wasn't what was important. What mattered was the fact he could listen to Jazz's horrors and troubles, including the long unrecorded list of those never be acknowledged outside the most information-secured of rooms, without being negatively affected in some matter. Even more important was Prowl's successful ease at remaining calm during Jazz's two bewildered attacks in the last mega-orns. He even diffused the last one, and if what information Prowl already knew was accurate, there'd likely be more to come after the latest mission's wear disappeared. To Prowl that was important, being able to support someone beyond his desk, and so he resolved to find some way to spend the next several recharge cycles with Jazz.

He examined Jazz's lax body, the soft hues and luminosity of Jazz's visor, the coy small smile, and the slight wrinkles beneath the visor suggesting Jazz's optics were still strained. "Get some recharge. I'll make adjustments to the schedule to show a half-shift for you. Do you want me to leave on all of your security measures?"

"I'll turn 'em off. You go ahead and get cleaned up." He won against the impulse to say he still needed Prowl to guard him while he recharged. It was time to resist his problems taking hold. Didn't mean he couldn't enjoy watching the Praxian's efforts to cross the room with precise steps around the mice investigating him, though. Jazz detected the minute twitches in Prowl's doorwings as the grids interrogated his systems. When Prowl made it into the washrack Jazz reached for the hidden wall pocket by his berth.

Prowl adjusted the washrack setting to his preferences. When it was ready he used up almost all of his remaining free time to scrub, clean, and buffer his armor until he met his own standards for acceptable SIC appearance – not too polished to imply he neglected his duties, not too abandoned to suggest he couldn't maintain a balance between duty and wellbeing.

The time it took for him to wash until satisfied and walk out was evidently enough time for Jazz to doze off. He opted to not risk startling the mech and made for the main door. On his way out Prowl slowed as he considered his datapad stack. All but the top datapad were devoid of any stored data. He weighed the options of taking all or most of them until he decided on taking half. He was never short of datapads and leaving some here could be useful later.

Prowl carefully gathered that half in one arm and held the one with actual value in the other hand. Almost immediately when he cleared the doorway his mind snapped back to resume reading the datapad, dismissing the automatic pings from his tac-set for it to also resume activity. Walking the halls usually had someone grabbing his attention and his tac-set was never happy about the disruption. The tac-set was also not happy with Prowl's refusal to hardline into a datapad when moving about common areas, but no amount of alerts would override the lessons he learned about dividing his attention between busy hardlines and while moving his frame about mazes, filled with other disorderly frames. Especially after that time he walked into Springer despite Kup's warning and Whirl's witnessing. An angry Springer, a smug Kup, and mockingly hooting Whirl was an unpleasant experience, to put it politely.

The tactician kept his optics focused on his datapad as he used his doorwings to assist him in navigating around mechs milling about in the low-traffic hallways, navigating with his optics only when traffic increased or his sensors detected an energetic individual nearing proximity to his frame. One hallway turn short of his office his audios and doorwing sensors picked up First Aid's voice.

"Prowl," the freshly off-duty mech called.

Prowl turned around and glanced at the medic. "Hello, First Aid. What brings you here? I'd have assumed you to be in the midst of some sort of recreational activity by now."

The medic's optics gleamed brighter, the outer corners turning outward. "I'm just here for some follow up, but that's nice of you to ask."

'More like the nice way to point out you shouldn't be here,' Prowl silently corrected.

In the last 7 mega-orns First Aid had become a bit... of an overly involved medic (in Prowl's opinion) about how Prowl was handling his recovery. Twice Prowl caught him saying to others in the know about Prowl's true health threat that Aid was merely advocating on behalf of Prowl over the hope of finding a new balance in life. It made Prowl's innermost chassis workings twitch and tighten uncomfortably over what he could only describe as an unwanted attention over some invisible goals other set for him.

His relationship with First Aid was indeed complicated, but then his relationship with Ratchet was far more complex and coupled with bouts of new tension, which was probably half the reason Aid called himself an advocate of Prowl. At least First Aid hardly bothered him with extra questions and check-ins than medically reasonable.

Aid continued speaking to the mech without aware of Prowl's opinion, "How are you doing?"

"I'm much the same as your last check-in comm." He wasn't concerned about the possibility of his night or morning's activities being detected by First Aid or any other authorized mech via spark sensors. In the beginning First Aid, Ratchet, and the few others with the clearance-level checked in on him and the excessive number of spark sensor readings up to thrice daily. After a lack of reading interest in Prowl's behavior, Wheeljack finally removed two-thirds of them and placed them in spares. There were still plenty of spark sensors for them to know his spark too well to his liking, but with the cover stories Jazz and he cultivated, combined with a diminishing worry over his health and Aid's advocating, little was checked or questioned anymore.

"I figured," First Aid replied, "but Ratchet asked me to take a report to Red for him and check in on you again, should I see you. He mentioned you seemed agitated when you confronted Jazz in his quarters."

"I was hardly agitated. I was simply firm in my demand." Prowl noticed First Aid's empty hands, leaving open the chance Aid was waiting around for him.

First Aid shrugged. "I'm just repeating Ratchet's words. So shall I pass that on, or do you have anything you'd like me to add?"

"I shall see Ratchet at the scheduled time for my routine check." In the spirit of his complex relationship with Ratchet, his repeated dealings with Ratchet suggested routine checks, minor damages (like a dented ped), and administrative tasks returned to a more-or-less normal state. He had no injuries exceeding minor damages for comparisons, but Ratchet transferred all spark-related work to the others a little before Jack pulled out the extra sensors. Aid claimed it was to keep everyone fresh on understanding spark health and because the CMO didn't have time for nonessential daily checks. If spending countless vorns working with Special Ops and now in secret relationship with the Head of XOps taught Prowl anything, it was how to spot lies.

"Alright, will do. Oh, how is Jazz? His systems were exhausted when he came back from the mission. I cleared him on the expectation he go straight to his quarters for rest."

"He mostly had 'catnaps', and we worked when he was awake. He should be recharging now, but he's expected to be on duty for the last half of shift."

"Thanks, I'll ask Perceptor to comm-check in on him around then. Take care," he said in a bid goodbye.

Prowl entered his office, immediately restocking his spares inside the recessed wall storage. When he sat down at his main Teletraan terminal he smoothly plugged the datapad directly into the terminal in a well-practice motion. Underneath the desk and below the terminal, in place where neither infiltrating enemy nor punished troublemakers would detect, Prowl connected an upper-thigh hardline to a hidden terminal access point. The location was very atypical, but he could stand without interference or restriction.

When the connection secured his tac-set automatically whirled to full activity, eager to work upon and satisfy its aggressive computational AI nature after a lengthy downtime. He auto-requested a piece of his startup routine to his tac-set, [[What is my unassessed or incomplete report count since my previous shift's end? Organize by priority.]]

It replied in its routine fashion, [[User initiate action, query-type command. User query parameter: filter active reports with last saved assigned personnel name containing 'Prowl' or user roles applied to User Prowl; count reports with last saved status not equal to 'cancelled', 'returned', 'closed', or 'completed'; group count by last saved priority type. User query type: integer return. Activate Teletraan database 'all outstanding filed reports with completed intake assessments'.

[[Activate subroutine, name defined as 'db_results_int_09843'. Active subroutine: Filter active database to list only report entries assigned to 'Prowl', 'Autobot Second-in-Command,' or 'Head of Tactical Department'. Subroutine paused. Action to User Prowl: Clarify if Prowl wants database items assigned to commanding officers but not specific officers?]]

Prowl deflated a little when the tac-set paused already after only 0.0002 kliks. The incoming workload had skyrocketed for various reasons, and one of the biggest causes was lower officers suddenly finding themselves promoted to senior officer levels, and so on until strapped bases with untrained officers were sending blanket and incorrectly filed reports. Usually the seconds of each commanding officer's department addressed such issues, but being on Earth had given them a new opportunity that Optimus Prime wanted seized. As such, everyone was extremely busy and Prowl was not one to risk any oversight. Sometimes he took on the responsibility to reassign, but often it actually fell to Ironhide since his vast experiences gave him plenty of insight of reassigning work.

Alas, for Prowl, the reason Ironhide had guests over was because it was the start of his 3 shift rotations off. [[Yes, include them as well. Keep them separated since the workload is still jointly shared with Ironhide. Don't rank by priority, except for the top 4 priority levels.]] Prowl silently added his gripe, 'They're usually the wrong priority classifications anyways.' [[He's still expected to have his scheduled full break, so assume yes until then.]]

[[AI initiated action to User Prowl: action return confirmed, parameters set to separate generalized command officer count from those assigned to User Prowl. Action to User Prowl: complete, zero error returns. Active subroutine resumed.

[[Activate child function, name defined as 'db_seek_str_00255': Seeking active database entries that fit query parameters… seeking… Function 'db_seek_str_00255' status: complete, no error returns. Activate child function, name defined as 'results_group_str_01001': Count and store count by priority type... conditional counting of sibling 'db_seek_str_00255' return... Function 'results_group_str_01001' status: complete, no error returns. New child function, name defined as 'results_group_str_78302': Count and store count by priority tier type… status: complete, no error returns.

[[Subroutine 'db_results_int_09843' return: Tier 1: 1 enemy-activity priorities, 0 life-threatening, 0 imminent-danger, 0 non-combat emergency; Tier 2: 1 critical, 1 elevated, 4 high; Tier 3: 87 normal, 119 low priorities. Eighty-six unassigned reports for command officers, zero reports with a Tier 1 priority. Subroutine 'db_results_int_09843' status: complete, no error returns.

[[Status of User Prowl query: complete, 0.0002% error probability in parsing user string query for data compiling. Tac-set status: active, at risk of idle performance, zero current reported error codes or conditions.]]

The entire coded output communication after the pause was less than a split-klik but Prowl understood it all as if it were normal conversation. The tac-set's power relays, memory, drivers, its constant self-made improvements, and Prowl's ability to communicate with it at low-level all streamlined the process into split-klik communications. The AI didn't see fit to speak to Prowl at a higher level like how Teletraan communicated to its users, because preservation of operation efficiencieswere all that mattered; it wasn't conducive to cold computational efficiencies on converting its operations output to a normal user communication style.

Prowl had no problem with "conversing" with the AI in such a manner, although it did make him wince a fraction when the new function's name was almost up to 6 digits. The implication was he had just that many text-based database searches used often enough that the AI determined them worth storing. These were searched that had similar purposes but were distinctly different enough they couldn't be reused.

Jazz, his brothers, the remaining command officers, and more thought the only way for Prowl to understand his workload size predicament was for them to tell him. Prowl never needed their comments despite how it looked, because his tac-set being forced to save nearly a 100,000 database searches for such menial tasks, followed by an absurd number of reports supposedly only he could approve/disapprove, spoke more volumes than any mech could raise. Those details were always getting worse to some degree, too, due to the slow destabilizing intelligence/administrative reporting from millenniums-long war.

Almost three quarters of the reports he ended up downgrading their priorities read like an overstressed and undertrained officer losing their mind at another base. At least he could delegate to his own galactic-dispersed tactical officers to find the most readily-available options to replace the ill-suited officer, although that required him generating a new report and then doing his own analysis on someone else's analysis of what he created. 'Logic succumbing to incoherent madness,' he vexed.

The AI suddenly responded to Prowl's "private" concerns without prompting, [[New AI initiated action, recommended-course-of-action type. Primary action outcome results: provide strategic recommendation to User Prowl for reconstructing system into logical structure at a sustainable rate. Performing full-system assessment. Battle computer building data package … packaging… sending package data and analysis results to simulator… simulating… battle computer analyzing and repackaging simulation results for logic center… sending updated data packaging to logic center… analyzing… logic center sending corrected data packaging to battle computer for error assessment. No errors returned. Battle computer perform another full iteration of data review to reduce variables… iteration loop one… iteration loop two… battle computer confirms results with acceptable margin of error.

[[AI Barricade recommendation over course of action: Seek status change histories on elevated and critical reports. Historical trends strongly show to disregard these 2 high priority items until Officer Ironhide returns, and re-evaluate these 2 high priority items.]] The AI laid out a thorough schedule, current and forecasted workload, the most efficient attack plan for workload reduction with minimal-to-no operations impact. Each part was laid over the next like a map. As it was navigating Prowl through its complex strategy, highlighting reports as it went (i.e. the high priorities it recommended ignoring despite standard command procedures), the AI automatically started downloading updates from Teletraan in the order it recommended - without waiting for Prowl's concurrence.

At the end of the beautifully-constructed strategy review that probably only Prowl would feel his spinal strut unwinding, he was torn between letting the AI violate his rules in its efforts to proactively soothe his worries, or put his ped down. He noticed the growing tendency of it not waiting for order confirmation like it did in all the time before his latest and closest spark death. Since that near-death the tac-set AI had randomly acted without any orders, but at least it was so far contained to times when internal arguments or unexpected AI intrusions couldn't cause more than a personal helmache. There were also the other random incidences of the AI using its self-given name "Barricade" when providing recommendations.

In the end he chose neither praise nor reprimand for extra initiative, and ignored the name popping up again. [[Acknowledged.]]

After checking all details related to the high priority items the AI wanted first evaluated in case they ought to have their priority levels raised, Prowl confirmed nothing more could be done until Prime got to that data. 'Perhaps I should verify that Prime will be finalizing his portion of these reports before he ends his shift. I doubt the Wreckers will wait much longer, regardless if they can or not.'

[[New AI initiated action, recommended-course-of-action type. Primary action – ]]

[[Abort action. I don't need to know the statistical chances that Prime provided complete data, or how to modify his environment to better advise him on his workload.]] The SIC disrupted the tac-set, knowing which of the hundreds of subject-related subroutines it favored when considering Prime and workflow.

Again he thought of correcting the AI, having now done this new "order jumping the gun" twice in less than a joor, but he decided on not dwelling on the minor annoyance; it didn't impacted his performance at the speed they communicated.

The tactician moved on to Jazz's latest report, currently the only one classified as enemy activity and assigned to him. Prowl knew more related reports would come from Jazz's department, and probably others, but Jazz had to first do his part of assessing the reports.

So for the moment, until those reports were partly or wholly assigned to him, things fell back into order. The Praxian read Jazz's report and heard the constant chattering "whispers" of the AI hard at work once the hardline was established and firewalls bypassed. Every few sentences Prowl had to do a double-read because Jazz's reporting skills had been improving exponentially of late, and this one was leapsbeyond any of its predecessors.

The chattering whispers stopped and a clear voice forced itself to the forefront of his mind. [[AI initiated query to User Prowl: Delay current scheduled shift's end, add shift, start new shift, or adjust other workloads to offset increased memory consumption over Officer Jazz's raw data findings? All breaks have already been scheduled as working breaks, prior to newest report intake. Officer Jazz's 128% increase in detailed data reporting was not forecasted and will require at least 2 joors to fully analyze and provide all possible outcomes with statistically likelihoods.]]

[[Maximize my schedule between now and Jazz's estimated arrival for debriefing, with a focus in completing as much of the workload pile as possible. Wait until after Jazz's responses to determine afternoon schedule and any following shifts.]]

When Prowl finished his portion of Jazz's report the tac-set redistributed its memory for dual analysis. While it continued with Jazz's impressive data collection (that was possibly giving him spark flutters), Prowl speedily read through reports stored on datapads instead of in Teletraan,for whatever reasons required the reports be kept separate.

A half joor before Jazz's tentative arrival the AI grabbed at Prowl's attention again. [[AI initiated query to User Prowl: Allow recommendation based on Prowl's efficiency trends, current performance, and historical trends of office hour disruptions by Officer Jazz?]]

[[Just the efficiency-related calculations for myself and allocate 10% buffer in schedule for Jazz.]] 'I suspect the events surrounding our last recharge will somehow find a way to surface during the debriefing. I...' Prowl faltered, not sure what to make about that spark flickers and other feelings.

The AI processed his response before Prowl could further contemplate last recharge. [[Status of AI initiated query: Complete, zero current reported error codes or conditions. Query result summary: Barricade's recommended schedule for initial parameters set by Prowl is activated. Barricade will also establish prompts for Prowl's progress based on active schedule, and adjust accordingly for Prowl's performance and any interruptions, or if Jazz's departure is delayed.]]

For a moment Prowl mulled over "Barricade's" summary, both in its unprompted actions and it now dropping role titles, like "User" and "Officer." Still, nothing in that summary was harmful or disruptive to the Autobots, so he set aside his musing for starting on the next report.


A/N:

This fic's plot is the most complex and longest I've ever written. It contains plenty of fluff, tension, hopes, destruction, and whatnot. How that's arrange is largely dependent on which of the 2 arcs the chapter falls under, but I won't name chapters by arc to avoid undermining the suspense. A/Ns will cover the arc change.

Thanks for any reviews, comments, and constructive critiques!