Disclaimer: It was made before I was born, so I can't own it. Nowhere near that talented. :P

Second help_japan fic! c: Also I wrote this with my beloved characterization of Jazz & Prowl as total awesome bros. But if you wanna read it as Jazz/Prowl, then go for it. I'm vague enough that it works, I guess. x'D

Somewhere along the line, Jazz got in the way. Of all his talents, that was the most troublesome one. He didn't do it on purpose, but it happened all the same and sometimes landed Jazz in troubles beyond his imagination. Since Jazz had a considerable imagination, so he had to think that it really was a talent.

In some cases it wasn't so bad - his friendships with Prowl, Blaster, and Sideswipe could all be taken for example there. But in the middle of battle, it wasn't - as Prowl would put it - a desirable trait.

The circumstances weren't so extravagant. Right now he wasn't surrounded by ruthless pirates, or even Decepticons - just rubble. Rubble and mud and gigantic boulders - the kind that happened to crush a good bit of your frame if you were unlucky enough to have one land on you.

Today just wasn't his day. And that was before it started raining.

The rain he didn't mind. In fact, Jazz liked Earth's rain. What he didn't like was mud invading his joints and gritting around like a thousand little itchy points of fire. That was just irritation on top of injury.

So the rundown: a little crushed framework here, a useless limb there, leaking energon, steady power drain... the usual. Oh, and help wouldn't be around for probably six or more cycles. There was a useful tidbit.

Plus, this was the second time in half an Earth-year that Ravage had gotten the best of him - kind of embarrassing. What's worse is that he fell for the damned feline's tricks. Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me - isn't that how it went?

Jazz sighed. Either way, all he could do was wait. Even if one of his arms weren't crushed and his other limbs trapped, with his power levels he had no hope of freeing himself. And at the rate of his systems drain, he wouldn't even be aware six cycles from now. Nice optimistic thought there.

He didn't have communications. He couldn't even access his music right now, which was just cruel.

So in lieu of listening, he hummed quietly to himself. Human music had been a hobby of his of late, but right now he sang the soft forgotten hymns of Iacon. Though he'd never spent much time in Iacon as a home, he'd been drawn to it. Glittering towers and soaring temples and all - alien and familiar and beautiful all in one.

If it weren't for the steady dull ping against his sensors, he might have slipped into dreams of the golden city. The gentle patter of rain was soothing, even after it tapered off. Instead, the rhythmic pulses brought him around again. He quieted; no telling if what was out there was friendly or not.

Ping. Ping. Ping.

Whoever it was, they had already zeroed in on his location. Friend or foe, Jazz had no choice but to meet them - he was still very trapped.

Ping. Ping-

Jazz heard the crunch of tires on rough terrain, saw headlights bathing the rock above him, and then - the unmistakable sound of transformation. His spark tightened for a long moment as footsteps now approached him.

His spark loosened in relief when he finally saw who it was, though confusion replaced his earlier tension. "Prowl, what the slag're you doin' out here?" He checked his chronometer. 0230.

Prowl's placid expression shifted easily to skepticism, his optic ridges raised as he scrutinized Jazz. "Considering your current condition, I thought you might welcome a rescue attempt."

Jazz grinned. "Yeah, no kiddin' - I just meant... it's the dead o' night, directly followin' a battle, plus you appear to be alone..."

There was a pause in which the tactician gazed at him like he was waiting out a sparkling's fit. "Your assessment is correct. At least there appears to be no trauma to your processors."

"Some would beg to differ."

One of Prowl's doorwings flicked and a corner of his mouth turned up in obvious amusement. "I have no doubt of the fact."

"What I was sayin', smart-aft, is - well, this is quite against protocol, ain' it?" Jazz's lips had twisted in an odd grin. Prowl seemed simple enough, but must bots just didn't have a clue.

"Another correct observation," Prowl replied. His focus was now on the bulk of rock pinning Jazz, processors almost visibly assessing the problem and its possible solutions.

The saboteur began to laugh, drawing attention back to himself. "Okay, I'll bite - why's it that you are breachin' protocol and charging t'my rescue?"

Prowl pursed his lips, obviously displeased at his delay. "I would think you of all bots would know that sometimes it is acceptable for protocols to be... bent," he replied.

"Or ignored completely?" Prowl said nothing, having turned back to the boulder, all squinting optics and light probing fingers. Jazz shook his head, still chuckling - he was feeling pretty slap-silly what with the energon loss and the immense relief of rescue. "Guess it helps if you wrote about half th' protocols yourself," he added thoughtfully.

"Usually it does," Prowl replied. A little smile played on his lips before he stood and pulled his rifle from subspace. After a couple of adjustments, he stood back a pace and leveled the gun at the boulder. Two acid pellets hit in just the right spot, melting some weak portion of the rock.

Relief flooded Jazz's overtaxed systems when the boulder split in half and rolled harmlessly to either side of him. Prowl approached the saboteur again and helped him to his pedes. Jazz was less than steady, but he could manage with Prowl's help.

Turning a grimace into a grin, Jazz glanced at Prowl. "So tell me - what's th' logic behind evadin' protocol here?" he teased. "I could've been anywhere, in any state o' disrepair, but you came alone rescuin' in th' middle of th' night."

Prowl gave him a long, assessing gaze. "I believed I could manage - and obviously I have." He paused for so long that Jazz was about to say something to that, until Prowl continued. "So, it would have been most irresponsible of me to leave one who is as my brother in such an unknown condition for too long a time."

Jazz's mouth closed, the wild teasing grin calming into something softer and warm, like the feeling in his spark. "Thanks," he said. "Guess I owe you one."

The tactician gazed at him, mild surprise upon his faceplates. "There are no debts among family."

Jazz chuckled softly. "Nope," he said. He gazed up at the night sky, the dizzying array of stars on an alien world. "I guess there aren't."