Iacon was colder than Polyhex.

Jazz shivered as he pulled the mesh blanket closer to himself, huddling over the datapad in his grasp.

The work was easy, and Jazz easily climbed up to be one of the best in his class. Prowl was already at the top of his, and was often found mentoring the other students and the younger ones. Sometimes, Jazz would sit in with them (purely because he was nosy and wanted to spend time with Prowl) and help where he could.

But right now?

Prowl was exhausted, and was deep in recharge on his berth, back to the room. So deep in recharge, his doorwings were perfectly still. Jazz couldn't imagine that being comfortable.

Jazz shuddered again, finally deciding that maybe it was much too cold to work and glanced between his berth and Prowls.

His berth would be cold, while Prowls would be warm, and as an added bonus, Prowl would be in it.

Mind quickly made up, Jazz carefully climbed over Prowl (he liked to have his wings facing the room) and wriggled into the space between Prowl and the wall. Very quickly, Prowl must have picked up on the warm body in his sleep as his arms opened and he was pulling the warm thing closer.

Jazz couldn't help the flush that filled his face. He did the same thing as a youngling, but knowing and feeling the way he did...

There was a small smile, and Jazz allowed himself to be pulled closer.

"I hate winter." Prowl grumbled, reluctant to get out of berth. There were no classes today, so he had no reason to leave the warm confines of his space, but the datapad he wanted to read was on he desk...

Jazz was still half asleep, partially sprawled out over Prowl on the berth. "It was never this bad at home." He lazily mumbled, visor barely flickering online.

"We're closer to the poles here." Prowl commented. Jazz just grumbled.

"Wake up, sleepyhead." Prowl teased, flicking Jazz in the forehead.

"Prowl!" Jazz whined, turning his head away. Undeterred, Prowl continued. Eventually Jazz just gave up an levelled Prowl with a glare.

"Ah was sleepin'."

"So was I. But then I woke up."

Jazz just sighed, knowing that his time of recharge was cruelly ripped from him.

So. Time to get back at him. Jazz promptly sat up, causing the mesh blanket to fall away from Prowl, exposing the mech to the cold air.

"Jazz!" He gasped, scrabbling to tug the covers back. "No! It's too cold!"

As quickly as he had sat up Jazz had flattened himself down and against Prowl again, realising that he had made a mistake. Primus, it was cold!

"Ah think we need ta get a heater." Jazz mumbled, slightly muffled. Prowl felt inclined to agree.

Their heater was a god send.

They were the envy of the Polyhex transfers, the students already in Iacon not understanding the need for a heater. Their homework was completed in front of the appliance, and once or twice they had fallen asleep in front of it. Sometimes, when it got really cold, they brought it with them to Prowls mentoring sessions. These times, Jazz mostly went so he could hog it.

"How's Smoky?" Jazz asked one evening, laying on his belly with his pedes swinging back and forth behind him as he completed his homework. Prowl glanced at him before he replied.

"He is well. He's wanting to come and visit some time in the holidays."

Smokescreen was Prowls cousin, Jazz had discovered. The mech at the station? Cousin. And apparently he had refused to let Prowl go as he quietly murmured suggestions of what Prowl could do to Jazz before he left - apparently he'd been spotted by the pair and while Prowl had just wanted to get on the transport Smokescreen had persuaded him to go say goodbye. And then the promptly ignored suggestions followed. Prowl still blushed when he remembered them, although he never told Jazz what they were. Apparently he didn't want to give anyone any ideas.

"Ya think he will?"

"Probably. It's likely we'll have to go home for the holidays."

Ugh. Home. Memories of the bet resurfaced, and both shuddered to imagine what kind of teasing they'd get.

It wasn't until a joor later when they had finally completed their homework, Jazz bored out of his mind and Prowl feeling a little stressed out. Jazz knew just the remedy, but whether or not Prowl would accept it Jazz didn't know. He gradually sidled closer to Prowl, and once close enough he reached out and placed a hand in-between his doorwings, waiting a moment to give Prowl a chance to shake him off before he started to massage the joint. Prowl shuddered and pressed closer, optics dimming as his engine began to purr.

"Feelin' better?"

"Most definitely."

Prowl looked very much so like he were about to pin Jazz down and have his merry way with them, but the last time they had so much as even kissed was back at the transport station in Polyhex. Jazz had suspected that it wouldn't be going anywhere any time soon, so he had settled with the awkward 'we've kissed but we're just friends' stage. What he really wanted he wouldn't allow himself to think unless he wanted to suddenly blurt it aloud and thoroughly embarrass himself.

"Hey, Jazz?"

"Hmmn?"

"Back at the transport station... Did you really mean it?"

"Mean wha'?"

"What you said to your Sire."

Prowl was staring blankly into the heater, watching the metal bars as they glowed red. He was nervous. Jazz's hand movements stopped and he carefully looked at the mech.

"What happens if Ah say yes?"

"Then I think it's something we'll need to talk about."

"An' no?" Jazz asked for clarity, but immediately regretted it when he saw Prowls doorwings droop and the mech worry his bottom lip.

"I-I don't know. I hadn't thought about it."

"Ah think ya might be pleased ta know that Ah meant every word. Still do." Jazz replied, feeling his tanks tighten and begin twisting and turning - ohhh scrap what had he done this would not end well. Prowl just didn't do 'feelings'! He was logic, he was independent, he just...

Drove Jazz insane.

Prowl didn't offer a verbal reply. No, instead he leaned towards Jazz and captured his lips with his own, allowing them to linger for a moment before pulling away much sooner than Jazz would have liked.

"I hope that clears anything up."

"Ah think that does."

Prowl could feel his face warming up, and it wasn't because of the heater.

Jazz was walking on cloud nine.

They had made it official - no seeing other mechs on the side (not that they did), obligatory wake-up kisses and of course, finding out how many mecha they had hoodwinked into thinking they were siblings again. This time they weren't even trying yet it still happened, even with the differences in their frame types!

Still, they managed. Prowl was shy as ever, not particularly fond of public displays of affection but he gritted his teeth and allowed it. Jazz, obviously, felt honoured and made sure Prowl knew that.

But something was bothering Jazz. No, someone.

One of the mechs in the year below was, quite obviously, pinning for Prowls attention. They would hang behind and try to make small talk, ask questions they already knew the answer to, ask for help when it was not needed and would comm Prowl outside of session time for them to meet up so he could get some help on his homework.

Prowl was slightly irritated by this as it meant his time was unequally divided, and the students who really needed his help weren't getting it. He was half a mind to tell them to find a new tutor. Jazz was irritated by this as this mech thought he could have a shot at Prowl, when he couldn't as Jazz had already taken him. The urge to 'accidentally' knock them down a very long flight of stairs grew and grew.

He was getting jealous again.

Prowl had assured Jazz that he would keep it purely professional and wouldn't allow it to progress any further, but it still didn't stop the niggling doubt in his mind. But Prowl didn't want there to still be doubt, that would put strain on something that hadn't even flourished yet and stop it short before it had even gotten started.

There had to be a way he could show Jazz how he felt without potentially ruining everything.

As it turned out, the opportunity was one he had every day, yet completely missed.

The rec room was a fairly large room, and was somewhere the older students could go and relax away from the years below. Occasionally, mecha in the year below could come in to fetch someone, but otherwise they were forbidden entry.

Perfect for hiding out with Jazz in.

So, with them sat in the usual position, Jazz partially on Prowls lap with one leg thrown over him and tucked comfortably against him, Prowl plotted.

But his answer quite literally walked towards them.

Blaster, Jazz's new found friend, sat opposite them like usual with his cassettes Eject and Rewind either racing around the room after a ball, which other mechs were either throwing between each other or pushing around the room, or sitting calmly on the table top and watching everything as their red light blinked.

Eject was always the one on the move, but Rewind? He liked to sit back and simply watch.

And record, as the pair learned.

The irritating mech had located Prowl and was walking towards him, datapad in hand. Prowl pretended to not have noticed him, keeping his attention on Jazz who was animatedly recalling a story from his childhood (Prowl adding in what he could, as he had been there).

"Mech, you guys got up to the weirdest things!" Blaster laughed, no hint of malice in his voice at all. "It's real cute you ended up goin' out in the end."

"His reaction after I do this is cuter." Prowl replied, and then followed an action nobody was expecting, as out of character as it was for Prowl. He had kissed Jazz again, much like he had that evening in front of the heater, only this time it lasted much, much longer and left both feeling quite breathless. Jazz ended up flustered and couldn't help the bubbly feeling in his chest, and Prowl was definitely slightly red too, although he acted as though he were fine.

Blaster's jaw had dropped, and Rewinds red dot was happily blinking away.

Prowl glanced up to see the irritating mech had turned around and was walking out without a single word.

"Did you get that?" Blaster quietly whispered to rewind, who nodded. It was quiet enough that Prowl didn't hear it, but Jazz did.

"Get what?" He asked.

Blaster looked like a deer in the headlights, and couldn't stop his cassette from letting the cat out of the bag.

"Red dot mean I record!" Rewind happily chirped. He was still young, and hadn't quite grasped the concept of grammar. Neither had Eject, but he rarely spoke to anyone about anything but sports.

"He's recording." Prowl bluntly stated.

"He never stops." Blaster clarified. "I have to keep buying disks for him."

"So everythin' he see's is on a disk?"

"Yup! I've got dirt on a lot of Mecha. Wanna hear about it?"

Home was just as they remembered it.

The holiday lights were hung outside of the buildings, bright and flashing. Stepping inside was like walking into a bakery, the sweet smells of freshly cooked goods hanging in the air.

For days, it was a whirlwind of colours, smells and music before there was a sudden lull. Prowl woke without the use of his alarm, the stars already risen, and quickly found the reason he'd woken up - his creators had just left. Looking next door, he saw that Jazz's creators were leaving too.

Peculiar.

A few moments later saw Jazz perched on the end of Prowls berth, holding Prowls younger brother Bluestreak while Prowl tried to wake himself up.

"Ya need ta get up." Jazz said, dumping Bluestreak on top of his brother. Prowl groaned and tried to pull the covers further over his helm.

Bluestreak clicked, beginning to bounce on him with a giggle.

"You two are pains." Prowl mumbled, sighing as he finally sat up and scooped Bluestreak up into his arms. Bluestreak had barely began opening his optics when Prowl had to leave for the academy, but many video calls allowed him to become familiar with his older brother. It was a wonder in itself that Bluestreak had been so accepting of Jazz and had warmed up to him almost instantly, given how he'd never properly seen nor heard the mech before.

"Do you know where they all went?" Prowl asked, deciding that he should probably get up. There'd be an opportunity to catch up on recharge later.

"Ah think they've gone ta see the lights bein' turned on. We got left with babysitting duty."

"I don't see why they didn't take you too."

"Because ya are useless at getting outta bed when ya on holiday." Jazz chirped. "Someone needs ta get ya up. Plus they know you'll be sore that only ya got left behind."

"I wouldn't care. I'm not one for festivals."

"Ah know that's a lie. We can take Blue out later."

"Might be too much for him."

"Then we can bring him back if it is, Ah wanna see the lights with ya." Jazz replied, almost pleading as he quickly moved into the space Prowl had previously occupied, the mech now sat on the edge of the bed and stretching. Jazz caught himself watching as cables were pulled taut. Bluestreak had crawled back onto the berth, and was chirping as he attempted to shove his entire hand inside his mouth.

"No, no lil' Blue ya don't wanna do that." Jazz immediately leaned forwards, gently guiding the tiny fist away from their face. "Hands are for touchin' things! They're all dirty an' gross!"

"Funny, that's not what you said-"

"Prowl!" Jazz hissed, elbowing him and pointing at Bluestreak. They were now fascinated by their feet, leaning forwards in an attempt to grasp them.

"I wasn't really going to say it."

"Sure, sure."

"You know I wouldn't." Prowl replied, nuzzling the side of Jazz's helm. They had no word to describe just what it was that they had. Looking at the other, they saw a friend, family, lover and a confidant. Safety was guaranteed when within reach of their counterpart, and they'd known each other for so long words weren't needed at the best of times. They just knew. Body language, small changes in tone, certain actions - all indicators of how the other was feeling. And it just came naturally to them on reading it.

So Prowl knew that Jazz was anxious about something.

"Ah don't think they know 'bout us." Jazz quietly said to Prowl when Bluestreak decided that his brother was probably going to be more comfortable than the plush pillows on the berth.

"What makes you say that?"

"We're not getting teased."

True, that was true. "Or they know, and the reason they left us behind was so we'd have time alone."

Jazz pointedly looked down at Bluestreak.

"Point taken." Prowl amended.

On the transport back to Iacon, Jazz flicked through the photos that he had taken. Prowl was watching a video on his datapad, headphones plugged in, so he didn't bother to disturb him when he found a particularly cute photo of Bluestreak. It was a photo of the three at them at the festival, Jazz holding Bluestreak as the sparkling sucked on a rust stick too big for his tiny hands, Prowl with his arm around the three of them and one extending out of shot to hold the camera. Jazz acutely remembered the disapproving looks they'd received while they were there and the muttering behind their backs. Prowl couldn't hear it, but Jazz could. Once again, he cursed his sensitive audials. They had thought that they were young parents. It was far from the truth, but the fact Jazz couldn't say anything about it…

But Bluestreaks joy was contagious, and Jazz soon forgot everyone around him and enjoyed himself. It was evident enough in the photos, what with his huge grin.

Vorns passed quickly.

In the academy, life with Jazz was a blur. Classes were passed with flying colours and neither could have been happier to spend time together again.

It all went downhill when Prowl got noticed.

The current Prime, whom reminded Jazz of a raisin, had been impressed with Prowls abilities and had asked him to consider enlisting and becoming one of his strategists. Delighted, he obviously accepted. Come graduation, Prowl was well on his way to being a fully trained soldier.

Jazz could only watch. He finally had Prowl, he finally had him and yet... He was about to lose him again...

But of course, Jazz didn't bother talking to him about it. What was the point? Nothing would be changed and it would only serve to stress the mech more. There was also the fact Prowl was being a slippery fish, and the only time Jazz saw him for long enough to have that kind of conversation Prowl was face-down on the berth in recharge.

It was aggravating. Not long after Jazz arrived in Iacon, they had agreed to trying out a relationship. It had gone so well, and they'd become closer and both were happier and-

Jazz released the breath he didn't realise he was holding. But frag, he'd gone and fallen for the mech. Scrubbing a hand down his face, he sighed. Long and drawn out, he was surprised it didn't catch Prowls attention.

But of course, the mech was focusing on that slagging datapad.

"Did ya wanna go get that cube now?"

"In a moment."

"Ya said that a joor ago."

"Did I?" Prowl replied, not even looking up.

"Yeah, ya did."

"Oh. That's interesting."

Jazz huffed in frustration before throwing his hands up. "Fine! Forget it, Ah'll go by myself" he snapped, not bothering to wait for a reply. It wasn't as if Prowl were actually listening anyway.

Jazz knew he should have been more patient with him, but it was just so... Infuriating! He tried, he was trying! But Prowl just... He just...

Didn't care...

There were rapid pedefalls behind Jazz before Prowl skidded to a halt a few paces in front of him.

"Sorry, I'm here. On me?"

"Ah was just gunna go to the cafeteria-"

"No, I'll take you somewhere nice. I want to, I want to make the most of the time we'll have together." Prowl firmly replied, finding Jazz's hand and quickly holding onto it, intertwining their fingers. "I don't have long left after we graduate before I'll have to move into the base."

Jazz was surprised that Prowl was the one to initiate the display of affection, but he wasn't about to point this out. It felt good.

"So when exactly do ya leave?"

"I'm not sure."

"Fair enough. Any ideas on where ya wanted ta go?"

Prowl just smiled. "I have a place in mind."

Looking back on it now felt, quite frankly, strange.

Prowl had taken Jazz to the little cafe tucked away from prying eyes, the one Jazz liked for its flavoured crystals, and they had stayed there until it was time for it to close. After, they had returned to their dorm room and Prowl had confirmed to Jazz that he did in fact love him very much in a way that left Jazz feeling it for days.

Then graduation came round.

Jazz barely had time to press a small trinket into Prowls hand, kiss him and demand that he return the trinket to him as soon as he could before Prowl was whisked away in a transport unit and Jazz didn't see him again.

Their comm was usually alive with their chatter, keeping the other company, but gradually Prowl had stopped calling as often and the conversations had become shorter and shorter as Prowl had less and less free time.

And then they stopped entirely.

Trying to not get too upset over it, Jazz made up excuses. There was a mission. He had too much work to think about his lover. Internal issues. Their radios had gone down.

But none of it seemed to be plausible.

Had Prowl forgotten about him? Was he simply humouring Jazz, and had never returned the feelings?

It made him feel sick.

But Jazz knew that he had no room to complain. He had done it to Prowl. A mistake he never felt as though he'd apologised for.

It was when his shift at the security centre had overrun when he finally received a message from Prowl.

::You're late, my dear::

::What?::

::You should return home, they'll notice I'm gone soon::

::Ma shift overran, Ah'll be there soon::

::Good. I await you::

Jazz felt a thrill of excitement shoot through him. Prowl! Prowl was there! He was within reach and soon he'd not only be able to hear him but to touch him and be touched back, be able to be lulled to recharge by the soothing tones of that engine and the steady rise and fall of his chest.

The moment he was relieved from duty, Jazz sprinted out and raced to his apartment, praying to whatever deity was listening that his humble abode, a mess of mixtapes and posters and the like, wouldn't have disgusted Prowl and pushed him away (although it never had before).

Opening the door, Jazz could already smell the particular brand of polish Prowl liked to use.

"Prowler?" Jazz called out.

"In here." Prowl replied, and Jazz moved into the living area to find Prowl sat at the island in the kitchenette, datapad sitting in front of him. There was a rare smile on his face, and he stood when he saw Jazz.

"It's been so long." Prowl said as he walked towards Jazz, the other mech following suit. Jazz leaned up on his tip-toes in order to reach as they held the other in a tight embrace.

"Too long." Jazz replied, muffled in Prowls shoulder. "Ah don't wanna have ta wait this long ta see ya again."

"Can't be helped. Although I do have something that you may like."

Jazz pulled away. "Like what?"

Prowl stepped away to retrieve the datapad before handing it to Jazz.

"I'm officially here to recruit you. I saw your name on the list of potential mechs and couldn't help myself." Prowl admitted as Jazz read the datapad. "Your skills have gotten you noticed, Jazz."

"Ah... Ah don't know. Ah don't like the prospect of havin' ta pick sides for a war we don't even know's gunna happen."

Prowls doorwings stiffened and Jazz immediately regretted saying anything. Saying the war would never happen was like rubbing salt into an open wound for Prowl - Praxus was embedded into the forefront of his mind. For him, the war was very much real.

"You don't have to accept. It's simply an offer."

"Do ya want me to?"

Prowl was silent for a moment. "Off the record, yes. I do. Very much so. But that's selfish of me-"

"Then Ah'm in. Where do Ah sign up?"

"Did you even read-"

"Ah know the risks, Prowler." Jazz replied, softly smiling. "Ah want ta help ya."

"I... That's excellent." Prowl replied, indicating for Jazz to sign the pad. "You'll be contacted at a later date with more details on your recruitment." He continued as he took the pad back and subspaced it.

"Awesome. What do Ah tell ma job?"

"Oh, they already know. I can have a word with them again later. Any more questions?"

"Jus' one. When do ya have ta leave?"

"Soon."

"Enough time ta catch up?" Jazz asked hopefully. It had been so long...

"Plenty of time."

Prowl had made sure he couldn't walk properly again, however Jazz couldn't bring himself to complain. Not when he had such a lovely view.

Prowl quietly grumbled to himself as he scrubbed at himself. He had ended up falling into recharge, waking up curled up with Jazz. It was a nice way to wake up, but the angry messages he had in his comm device were not. His presence was being demanded, and Prowl could not ignore the call.

"They're not too mad, are they?" Jazz asked as he handed Prowl a towel.

"They are rather upset I didn't return last night, although I think their ire will fade when they find out I was successful."

"Ah'll be honest, if it were anyone else who had asked Ah probably wouldn't have said yes."

"A good thing I came then. I have to leave now, I'll be seeing you shortly I trust?"

"As soon as Ah can." Jazz replied, leaning and kissing him. Prowl responded by wrapping his arms around him, holding him tightly to his chest.

"I miss you."

"Ah'll be with ya soon."

Prowl could only give him a sad look before kissing him on the forehelm and swiftly leaving.

Jazz realised that Prowl never gave the trinket back.

Jazz had found himself with the red symbol of the Autobots painted on his chest as he sprinted away from enemy fire, blaster in hand. His mission was a success, yes, but the recovery team never came and Jazz had to make do with what he had.

And that was not much, with as little experience as he had.

His superior was furious, and was stalking around the war room like a caged beast. It was clear she was unimpressed and wanted answers as to why the team never got Jazz out, and where they now were.

Prowl was better at hiding it, but if one looked closely enough his calm and collected demeanour was cracking rapidly.

::Jazz, what is your status?:: she asked, trying to keep her voice calm and steady. It wasn't Jazz she was angry at, there'd be no need to snap at him.

::Ah'm nearly at the nearest outpost. Ah received numerous injuries, the worst being shot in ma shoulder::

::Will you make it?::

::Definitely::

::See that you do. I'll be expecting a message from the outposts commander as soon as you arrive::

::Copy::

Satisfied, she cut the comm. Prowl looked at her.

"He's fine, nearly at the closest outpost. You were right to recruit him, but I can't help but think you had ulterior motives."

"He is skilled, that's all there is to know."

"I've done my homework. You were roommates, and have known each other a long time. Skill is just part of the puzzle here."

"Granted. I'm going to message the outposts commander, let them know they're having a guest."

"Very well. But don't think that we're oblivious to anything, Prowl."

"I don't. That would be foolish."

Prowl stood and left the room, heading towards the communication deck.

He knew that himself and Jazz were not allowed to pursue a relationship, even though it had begun before either had been enlisted, and that was something that settled uneasily on his spark. How would Jazz take the news?

Regardless, once Jazz had returned they would need to discuss it.

The transport back was quiet.

Jazz was dosing off, exhausted from his mission. He knew he still had a fair way to go, what with the write-up and report, and that was what stopped him from fully falling asleep.

Usually, Prowl would have contacted him by now telling him a place where they could meet & be reassured that Jazz had returned to him in one piece. He had received no such message.

It bothered him.

Not long after he'd arrived back at base did Jazz begin to hunt down his lover, ignoring the sting of the newly-done welds. He had been told to rest in his quarters, but finding Prowl was more important.

He wasn't in the tactical centre, nor was he in the Rec room or his office. Jazz didn't have the clearance to enter the area where Prowls quarters were, so he resigned himself to his own quarters. Prowl just wasn't where he could go.

He thought.

Prowl was waiting for him in his own quarters. Reclined on Jazz's berth, Prowl was lazily flicking through a datapad. Luckily for him, nobody else who shared that room had returned from their respective missions, so they had the place to themselves.

"You took a while. Where were you?" Prowl asked, not removing his optics from the datapad.

"Ah was lookin' for ya."

"Medics told you to come straight here."

"Ah wanted ta find ya first. Ya never gave me a meeting place."

"We're being surveyed. They probably know we're both in here." Prowl replied, finally subspacing the datapad. Jazz sat on the end of the berth, by Prowls pedes.

"What does that mean?"

"It means they know. We can't keep doing this."

"Ya kiddin', righ'?"

"Unfortunately I am not. I've already been approached by numerous officers, your superior in particular. Safe to say, they know."

"So, ya mean... It's over?"

"While the war still rages, yes. The moment it is over I will find you and make you mine."

Jazz looked as though he were about to protest, but he stopped himself and instead bit his lip. Prowl barely suppressed the rev his engine was desperate to make - oh, but he loved it when Jazz did that.

"Ya seriously gunna let what others think decide?" He finally replied, leaning forwards earnestly.

"There is not an option to ignore it. It's unprofessional, and it puts you in unnecessary danger."

"Ma job description is 'danger', Ah'm already on hit lists. What makes ya think that Ah'll be worse off?"

"A number of those lists is already due to your affiliation with me. I cannot afford to make this worse."

Jazz looked as though he were ready to argue more, but his visor flashed and he leaned away, seemingly deflated.

"Ah guess if that's what ya want." He replied, sounding defeated. "Ah can't stop ya.

"I'm sorry." Prowl said as he stood up and walked towards the door. Pausing as his hand reached for the button to open it, he exhaled deeply. "Jazz? Please don't go where I can't follow."

"Wha'?"

"I know what you're like." Was all Prowl offered before he turned and left.

Jazz didn't know what to reply, and it wasn't as if he could.

It took a moment for what had just happened to sink in, and he felt numb.

So, so numb.

He couldn't feel his legs and a chill ran through him.

Prowl... Prowl had...

It felt like a kick in the gut.

Scooting backwards on the berth, Jazz leaned against the wall, curled into a ball with his helm resting on his forearms, and cried. It felt as though his spark had been ripped in two.

Two cool hands were placed on his frame, one on his shoulder and another his upper arm.

"Jazz?" They said, bending down to try and meet his optic. "Jazz, what is it? What's wrong?"

"Prowl" was the watery reply. The hands clenched.

"That aft? Why do you even like him? He's so mean! He makes you cry!"

"He's ma best friend." Jazz meekly offered, finally lifting his helm. The femme defiantly stared back.

She was his roommate, and was often off on scouting missions. Jazz had never seen faster legs, except from Blurr of course. Her name was Rapidstep, a fitting name.

"He's still an aft, so cold and unforgiving."

Jazz just shrugged. "Ya don't know him, he's younger than many think."

Her nose wrinkled. "I think he was sparked before our parents were, the way he walks with a stick up his aft. Come on, let's go get a cube. I'm starving!"

Jazz allowed himself to be pulled up, and after quickly drying his face and forearms they left for the rec room.

He'd made a mistake.

A mistake, it was a mistake, sweet Primus it was a mistake.

But he couldn't fix it. It was too late. He regretted walking out of that door and not turning back when he heard the first sob, he regretted not pulling him into his arms and soothing them away and telling him they'd work something out.

Prowl silently watched over the top of his datapad as Jazz picked up his ration from the dispenser and completely ignored Prowls corner, making a beeline to where his friends sat.

He missed him.

Prowl hadn't meant for all communication to cease. Despite what Jazz may have believed, Prowl couldn't bring himself to deny that he needed Jazz, but perhaps that was more than Jazz needed him. That thought was what kept him up at night.

Ratchet was beginning to notice his steady decline due to exhaustion, and that never boded good things. He might order a visit to Smokescreen, and that wouldn't sit well with Jazz.

"I know that look."

Prowl glanced over his shoulder, optics tearing from the datapad he read on his way to the medical bay to pick up reports. Smokescreen was ambling up to him, credits being tossed in his hand.

"How many did you con this time?" Prowl asked. He frowned upon his cousins habit, but old habits died hard. He'd done it since he was a youngling.

"Such accusations! I did nothing of the sort, I have nothing to bet on."

Prowl just grunted and continued to read his datapad.

"Honestly though, your wings make it obvious. It's him, isn't it?"

"It's annoying how well you know me."

"Part of my charm. Tell me, what did he do this time?"

"Nothing, it was me." Prowl replied, pinging the medical bay to let them know he was coming. "If you'd give me a moment?"

"Sure."

Prowl stepped inside and came out a few klicks later with a stack of datapads.

"Your superior is going to be pissed." Smokescreen whistled.

"My superior" Prowl bitterly replied, "sees fit to dump all of his work onto me."

"Oh, that... Sucks. Anyway, where were we..."

"We were at it wasn't him."

"Thanks. What did you do then?"

"This is better left discussed more privately." Prowl replied, keying in his access code to his door and stepping aside to allow Smokescreen in. He couldn't see Jazz around, or anyone for that matter, so nobody but those keeping an optic on the monitors knew.

"That bad?" Smokescreen asked as he sat in the seat opposite his desk.

"Perhaps. I may just be overreacting."

"Nonsense. Tell me, what happened?"

"Jazz and I are no longer together, I broke it off." Prowl replied, the words tasting bitter in his mouth. Smokescreen looked shocked.

"But, why?! You two were so close and that was the happiest I'd seen you in ages!"

"Our superiors began to notice, I couldn't threaten his job."

"You're smart, you could have hidden it-"

"It didn't feel right to continue it."

"So you'll give up the one mech who actually means something to you?"

"I..." Prowl swallowed thickly, searching for words. How could you reply to that? It was true. "If that's what I have to do..."

"But is it what you want?"

Prowl stopped at that. Frowning, he slowly replied.

"No, it's not."

"I've gotta dash, but just think about it."

As it turned out, the next opportunity Prowl had to talk to Jazz was during the next battle.

There was a small lull which found Prowl jumping into the burned-out husk of a building, landing almost right next to Jazz. Both jumped at the sight of the other, but it was Jazz who scrabbled backwards.

"Jazz. It's been a while." Prowl said, deciding to move back and give the mech more space. He knew how much he hated being caged.

"Not long enough." Jazz replied. A doorwing twitched - his tone was all off.

"You'll have to bear with me a little while longer, seekers are overhead."

"Nothin' Ah can't handle."

"You seem to be off." Prowl replied with a frown.

Jazz didn't reply.

Prowl sighed through his vents, taking out his acid rifle and reloading it. He peeked his head up to see if it was clear for him to leave. Tension had made the air so thick you could cut through it like butter.

"They're still out there. Ah can hear 'em." Jazz pointed at his audials. Prowl sat back down again.

"I haven't seen you lately." Prowl prodded.

"Ah've been busy, gettin' ta know the crew."

"They're good mecha." Prowl responded with a small, fond smile.

"None of them seem to like ya too much, an' Ah'm starting ta see where they're gettin' at."

Prowls smile faltered as he froze. He watched with wide optics as Jazz stood and continued.

"Ya care about ya job more than the mechs under ya command, and those ya draft into ya plans. How many did ya write off, Prowl? How many have deactivated? Ya don't ever mingle with us, nor do ya leave ya damn office."

"You know nothing of the job I do." Prowl angrily replied.

"Ah know enough ta see ya don't care."

Prowl visibly bristled, jumping to his feet. "I care more than anyone would like to think, how dare you-!"

"Then why are so many dyin' because of ya plans?"

Prowl faltered. "I..."

"Can't even answer."

"Jazz, I'm... Sorry if you lost any friends. I try my hardest but it's not enough, is it?" Prowl couldn't bring himself to give a weak smile. "I also apologise for ending what we had. It was a mistake I dearly regret, and I'd like you to know I'd take you back in a spark beat."

"Ya-ya can't say that!" Jazz cried, bottom lip wobbling. "Ya can't say that when Ah'm tryin' ta stop lovin' ya and jus' move on!" His voice was thick with emotion, visor gaining a watery glow. "Ah can't love a drone!" Jazz buried his face into his hands, shoulders hunched over as he shook.

Prowl felt cold, chilled straight to his core.

He knew what the crew said about him. Drone, cold, emotionless, the lot. But he had never, ever expected it to come from Jazz's mouth in any other way than a playful tease to make him feel better about the insults.

Never, ever like this. It hurt. The one mech he had trusted to never turn those words against him was speaking them as though they were true.

At first, Prowl was angry. But then a wave of sadness swept through him and he had to hold his breath to stop himself from making a pained noise.

Prowl shook his head and began slowly stepping back away from Jazz.

Jazz looked up and met with his pained optics, and his hands flew to his mouth when he realised what he had said.

"Slag, Prowler Ah'm so sorry Ah didn't mean..."

"No. No, no, no!"

Prowl didn't give Jazz a chance to reply before he had clambered up and out, sprinting away.

Of all mecha, Jazz! It was Jazz! The one who was supposed to know him best, the one he relied on so, so much...

The seekers were gone, so Prowl had very little chance of being blown up by a well-aimed shot. He just ran, and ran, and ran.

Ratchet gave him a strange look when he sprinted past him, the medic tending to a downed solider. It was unlike Prowl to sprint across whole battlefields. Making a mental note to interrogate him later, he turned back to his patient.

The solitude was killing him.

Prowl, being of a higher rank, didn't have to suffer the squabbles that came with sharing your quarters with seven others, or endure the slightly nicer arrangement of sharing with three. He had just one other roommate.

Well, he was supposed to.

Not long after he had gained the rank that allowed him to have these quarters did his roommate request a transfer, and nobody since had wanted to transfer in.

He was painfully and obviously not wanted, nor a desirable roommate.

Prowl didn't understand why. It wasn't as if he cared about mess, so long as it didn't stray into his side, and it wasn't as if he'd be in there for anything other than sleeping.

Usually, when Prowl felt lonely or a need for company, he'd hunt down Jazz, but now the thought of him just stung.

The soft ping of liquid dropping on metal was the only sound that resonated in the empty quarters.

Coolant splashed down onto his thighs from where he sat, partially hunched over. Prowl couldn't remember the last time he had cried, but the tears still felt just as bitter.

He couldn't be bothered to wipe them away. Not just yet, anyway. The only mech he could have truly said he loved, without a hint of regret, thought of him as less than. Had called him something as degrading as you could get.

Calling someone a drone was like saying they weren't alive. Were forged, were fake, made just to complete a particular function and destroyed when they had no more use or began to malfunction.

Easily replaced, and generally unwanted.

Prowl just wanted the pain to stop.

His optics found the datapad that Ratchet had given him a few cycles ago.

It advertised an experimental upgrade to his battle computer. He was born with his, and it was that which gave him his tactical expertise, but now they were just beginning to understand the naturally formed ones, and had wanted to see if they could be upgraded like the hand-made ones could be.

Prowl was the only mech on this base that had a battle computer, so he was the obvious candidate.

The possible side affects that had been listed ranged from headaches to memory loss, and it was the memory loss that had put Prowl off at first. But now, he'd rather forget Jazz and make it easier for the mech to move on, like he so desperately wanted, than make him suffer.

Wiping off his face and thighs with a cloth, Prowl picked up the datapad and began reading through the consent form.

Jazz felt oh so very stupid.

He had allowed himself to believe what everyone else was saying about Prowl - sitting on the outside, it all appeared to be so, so true, but he knew the mech through and through - how could he have done that?!

He wanted, no, needed to apologise, but Prowl was very hard to find.

The medical bay was where he found him, unconscious with medics poking around in his helm. When he snuck in and peeked at a medical file that had been foolishly left out, he discovered that they were doing a preliminary survey of his battle computer, and the next time round, they would upgrade it.

He slunk away unseen.

Prowl was going to upgrade his battle computer. Jazz had never heard of an upgrade going without a hitch. He knew the threats well - he had studied up on it when he learned they were becoming available, worried Prowl would become tempted.

And he had.

A few joors later, Jazz finally managed to corner Prowl in the corridor to the war rooms.

"An upgrade? Seriously?" Jazz snapped as he stormed towards the taller mech.

Prowl gave a quizzical look. "I don't follow."

Jazz huffed at him. "Ya know what Ah'm talkin' about. Ya battle computer."

"I wasn't aware it was common knowledge." Prowl frowned. "How did you find out it was being upgraded?"

"Ah have ma ways." Jazz waved it off. "Ya can't be serious, right? It's too dangerous-"

"I know the risks." Prowl cut in.

"Then why?"

"Because it needs to be done."

"It doesn't! It's not an essential upgrade!"

"It is to keep fools like you safe." Prowl replied, turning to fully face him, doorwings twitching. "Would you like to know why so many mecha die, Jazz? Because none of them follow orders or the plan. They think they know better, they think I am incapable of doing my job. And after, I get the blame. I can't account for every action, every situation. I can't. I just can't. I need this." His doorwings flicked downwards. "It hurts me just as much as anyone else when they die, because I couldn't keep them safe. If you'll excuse me."

Prowl promptly turned and walked away.

Jazz blankly stared at him. Finding his feet, he quickly began to follow.

"Prowler, wait!"

"It is Prowl."

"Prowl, please don't do this. Ya don't- ya fine the way ya are."

"I am inadequate."

Jazz jogged to catch up. "That's a lie an' ya know it."

"You would know better than anyone that I am not lying."

"Ah know it's not the truth. Please don't get the upgrade. For me. Please?"

"This is not up for discussion."

"Ah'm not gunna sit there and watch as ya forget everyone!"

Prowl had reached the room he was heading towards, and palmed it open, tugging in Jazz after him and immediately locking the door.

"I know there's more you want to get off your chest, so you may as well whilst we have the chance."

Jazz awkwardly shuffled where he stood.

"Ah don't want ya ta get that upgrade." Jazz firmly replied. "Ya too important ta me, Ah know it'd kill me if ya looked at me as impassively as ya did everyone else."

"Here I was convinced you held no interest in me."

"Prowl, Ah made a mistake-"

"I have no interest in what you have to say." Prowl cut in, Jazz's jaw snapping shut. It felt as if he'd been slapped across the face. "I've made up my mind, I'm getting the upgrade. Nothing anyone says will change it, including you."

"So ya'd rather forget about me an' everythin' we had, than stay as ya are."

"That's the gist of it."

Jazz's field tightened around his frame, and Prowl realised that the room felt colder. He missed the warmth Jazz's field offered, but he knew it was a sensation he would forget soon. There was no point in chasing after it.

"You're an aft. A complete, fragging aft."

"So I have heard."

Jazz just turned and unlocked the door, striding out and slamming the door behind him as best he could, considering it was automatic. Prowl was impressed, he didn't think Jazz knew the code.

It still didn't stop him from feeling the coolant run down his face.

Prowl could hear his Sires voice already.

"Be careful that you're not burning all of your bridges."

"Your carrier worries, keep in touch, will you?"

Bridges burned and promise not kept, Prowl was ashamed of himself. In a joor, he would be heading over to medical to have the upgrade installed. He had a joor to prove he had some hint of emotion.

Sitting at a computer, Prowl began tapping away a long-distance communication message. He'd let his creators know, at least. Let them know he was sorry.

Message typed out, Prowls hand twitched towards a datapad. He... He could type something out for Jazz. As to whether or not he would read it Prowl didn't know, but whatever backlash it got him he knew he rightfully deserved. Trying to make Jazz dislike him so he wouldn't miss the loss was proving to be difficult and left an awful taste in his mouth.

He sent the message to his creators and left the room, datapad in hand. Everyone would think that he was working and leave him alone.

Prowl would be the one who knew different.

If only he didn't bump into Jazz in the hall.

It was empty, it being the middle of the current shift, making it rather strange the two were there and had crossed paths.

Jazz gave him a nod of acknowledgement as he walked past.

"Jazz, wait." Prowl said, voice catching in his throat. His mouth suddenly felt dry and it was hard to swallow.

Jazz stopped and turned to face him.

"Sir?"

Prowl twitched. Jazz never called anyone Sir. It was nicknames he only got away with through his charm. Still, he couldn't be deterred by this.

"This is for you. Please read when you get the chance." Prowl said, extending the datapad towards him. Jazz accepted it, studying the back.

"From tactical? Is it a mission?"

"No, no it's not. Just a message. I'll be seeing you."

"Yes, sir."

Prowl swiftly turned and strode away, ignoring how that conversation gnawed at his spark.

"Burning all your bridges."

If anything, that bridge was in tatters. Prowl's hands clenched. He'd ruined everything, how could he think a stupid datapad could fix anything?! Jazz probably wouldn't even read it!

Medbay was getting closer with every step he took, and Prowl already felt he'd lost a part of himself.

Jazz sulked in his quarters.

Rapidstep lay on her stomach on her berth, flicking through a datapad and sighing dreamily whenever a certain blue mech appeared.

"Ya still pinning after Blurr?" Jazz asked.

"He's so fast... I wish I was that fast."

"He had trainin', ya didn't." Jazz reminded her.

"Sure, but still... And you're not one to judge me for pinning, Jazzy. The way you look at Prowl- Jazz? Jazz, are you okay?"

Jazz had curled in on himself even tighter than he was before, arms coming up to hug his knees to his chest. Even as he bit his bottom lip, it still trembled.

Rapidstep climbed up onto the berth next to him.

"Jazz, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."

"Ah never told ya what was goin' on between me and Prowl, did Ah?"

"Not really. All I know is that you were childhood friends."

"More than that. Much more." Jazz sadly replied.

"Best fri- wait... No way. You were dating!"

"Until a while ago. He ended it an' said he'd wait for me after the war. But Ah went an' ruined it."

"Primus, Jazz... I... I had no idea..."

"He's also not as old as ya think, he's only two vorn older than I am."

"He looks so old."

"He's stressed out."

"Whatever you did, I'm sure you can fix it. Come on, let's go find him-"

"There's no point, he's getting his battle computer upgraded."

"I didn't realise he had one installed."

"It's a natural one."

The colour drained from Rapidsteps face. "You're kidding. That's just a prototype- he'll- I'm sorry, I'm not helping. Do you know when the operation starts?"

"5 klicks ago."

Rapidstep slumped, dragging her hand down her face. She didn't like Prowl - he was an aft and she couldn't see what Jazz saw in him - but if he was important to Jazz and made him happy, she'd help her friend.

"We don't know for sure it will be a worst case scenario."

"There's always memory loss when medics poke around in your head."

"Temporary! Prowl will probably remember everything, given some time. Then he'll see he was a massive idiot and come running back."

Jazz gave her a weak smile. "Thanks."

"You're welcome. You've been staring at that datapad for a while now, isn't it time to read it?"

Jazz glanced down at the datapad Prowl had given him. He had said it was a message...

Was it from him?

Jazz onlined it, the message immediately coming up on the screen.

"That fragger. He can't throw me around like this! Ah'm waiting for 'im at medical. Memories or not, Ah'm hittin' him in the face." Jazz hissed as he slammed the datapad down on the berth.

"What's he said?" Rapidstep asked, surprised by the sudden outburst. Jazz huffed.

"He's apologised, told me he loves me... He also said why he did it."

"That I want to hear." Rapidstep said grumpily.

"To make it easier for me ta move on. Yanno how I said I did something stupid?" Jazz took in a deep breath to calm himself as Rapidstep nodded. "Well, Ah basically insulted him ta hell an' back, said a lot of things Ah regret."

"Oh, Jazz-"

"Don't. Ah know, Ah know. Ah couldn't even apologise, by the time I'd realised what I said..."

"Then go. Go and wait for him. When he comes out, you will be the first thing he sees and he might remember you."

"Ah'm goin'." Jazz decided, standing up with the datapad.

The first thing Jazz did when Prowl walked out of medical was punch him.

In hindsight, it was a really stupid idea. A really stupid one. Especially with Ratchet standing right there with a look on his face that promised agony and humiliation.

But Jazz had managed to work himself up into a frenzy and he was pissed.

How could Prowl play around with him like that? He wasn't a toy! One minute he was saying 'I'm not interested in you' and the next he was singing his love from the rooftops!

But Jazz wasn't prepared to be punched back.

He deserved it, but still. It stung like a bitch.

"Ya are unbelievable." Jazz growled at him, poking him in the chest with the datapad. "Ah swear ta Primus if ya don't remember by ya self Ah will make ya remember."

"That sounds like a promise." Prowl replied, voice flat and monotone. Jazz's optic twitched at the monotone - so he had forgotten about him.

He could cry about it later. Now, he was too pissed off.

"It is one."

And with that, Jazz whirled around and stormed away, the crowd that had gathered parting to let him past. Jazz didn't go back to his quarters. He subspaced his datapad and went straight to the training rooms. His hands were itching to beat the ever loving crap out of something.

Prowl was his best friend, but at that moment Jazz wanted to slap him senseless. That stupid, stupid idiot-!

Something splashed against his chest plates, and Jazz quickly scrubbed at his face. How stupid of him to cry over something like this. Prowl would remember, Jazz wouldn't be forgotten... But...

He sagged, fight draining from him. Changing course, he found a supply closet and curled up inside of it.

Right now, he was just like everyone else. A number. A statistic. A nobody.

Expendable.

Jazz was so used to Prowl trying his very hardest to keep him safe, he now felt exposed and unprotected. He owed his life to Prowl, given the number of times the mech had watched his back only to get nothing in return.

Primus, he was such a spoiled brat. How could Prowl even stand him?

"I heard about Prowl." A white and blue mech said, suddenly materialising before him. "I'm not one hundred percent on just what your relationship was, but I extend my apologies."

Jazz jumped, upsetting a few bottles on the shelf above him. Mirage, a mech he hadn't actually properly met yet.

"Ah... Thanks, Ah guess."

"I have known someone to lose their memory. We weren't as close, but... In time, they remember again. Neural bridges are remade, some events put things back into place. Just something to think about. I'll leave you now."

Before Jazz could reply, they left the cupboard.

What a strange, strange encounter. Jazz pinched himself. Still awake.

The blank spaces were bothering him.

Prowl remembered things that concerned himself - his lectures, his lessons, past plans, past battles, his job where things were how to speak how to walk-

Everything he needed to function.

But nothing else. Nothing on his family, if he even had one. Nothing on who his friends were, on how to speak to them, on how to even speak to others.

It was as though he was purely just a complete...

Drone...

It was frustrating. He knew he wasn't.

But what frustrated him even more was the mech who had punched him. They felt familiar, but try as he might he couldn't categorise him or even put a name to the face.

However, right now wasn't the time nor the place to think about it.

The battle was fierce, flames licking up his legs and bubbling his paint. Prowl ran and ran, trying to find a vantage point that wasn't infested with enemy snipers.

Voices shouted to and fro on the comm line, garbled nonsense to those not listening properly.

He gave orders, getting information in return. How many were injured, how many dead, how many of the enemy groups had been dispersed or eliminated-

But he hadn't heard the mech who had punched him yet.

It was a thought that worried him.

Eventually, Prowl found a building well within the ground the Autobots held that was tall enough to give him an acceptable view. He didn't need to worry about being snuck up on - with his upgrade as new as it was, he still wasn't top of his game yet, so it was best to be cautious. 96% chance he would be fine, and the 4% was down to Decepticon spies or Autobots with a vengeance.

Of course, it didn't take long for him to notice a femme far, far from where she was supposed to be, and if the smoke he could see near her, the Decepticons knew it. Attempting to hail her didn't work, so instead he left the building and ran towards her so he couldn't be ignored.

"You're out of position." He shouted as soon as he was close enough. The femme gave him a disinterested look.

"I'm where I need to be." Was the curt reply. It spoke volumes of how much she thought of him.

"No, you're not. There isn't meant to be anyone here, it's a slaughter zone-" Prowls doorwings picked up something flying towards them at high speeds, and he quickly pushed the femme down.

The force of the impact tore him from his feet, and he landed awkwardly on his back. Alerts flooded his HUD, the most prominent one being the introduction of a brand new gaping hole in his abdomen that had exposed his spark chamber.

Ow.

Prowl was barely aware that the femme had left, running away at first opportunity. Great. Now he was left exposed here-

A pair of hands grabbed onto him, arms wrapping under his shoulders and pulling him away and behind an outcrop.

"Prowl? Prowl, you in there?" A familiar voice said. He remembered them - the medic he woke up to. What was his name again... R... Ratchet?

"Ratchet?"

"Good, you remember. Stay focused on me, okay? You will be fine if you stay awake."

"Noted. Where did the femme go?"

"She found me, she's now back at her position. As you ordered." Ratchet replied with a smirk. "She's in quite a bit of trouble."

"Understandable."

Ratchet worked on sealing off the exposed tubing that was leaking energon, and then on the wires and circuits. His spark chamber Ratchet could do nothing about, which frustrated him to no end, but it would do more harm to try and cover on the field than it would in the safety of Medbay where he had all of his equipment.

"Where's Jazz?" Prowl suddenly asked.

"Jazz?" Ratchet curiously replied. "As in the mech who punched you yesterday morning?"

"Yes, him."

"I don't know. Special Ops tend to stay a bit more under the radar, he's probably in Decepticon territory right now."

"Ah."

"Yes, 'Ah'. Jazz? We'll be hearing about it soon enough."

Sure enough, a few seconds later, there was a loud explosion coming from the Decepticon side, way beyond their front.

"And that would be Jazz."

"I don't understand why he is associated with explosions. Loud noises hurt his audials."

Ratchet gave him a questioning look. Before the battle, Prowl had no idea who Jazz was.

"You remember him then?"

"As a child, yes. Am I supposed to know more?"

Ratchets lips pressed together. "Much more. But progress is always good."

Whatever Prowl was going to reply with was cut off as what was unmistakably Jazz slid into view, tumbling backwards as he transformed back into his bipedal form.

He gingerly got to his feet, shook himself off and looked around himself, freezing when he spotted Prowl.

And he sprinted over.

"Prowl! Holy- what happened?!"

"He got caught in the slaughter zone." Ratchet replied, pointing towards the valley they had affectionately given the name to. "Luckily, they realised they had hit someone important and decided to flee before anyone found out it was them."

"Primus..."

Ratchets arm beeped and he cursed. "Jazz, watch him. I've got another patient." Ratchet ordered before transforming and racing away. The pair watched him go.

"Jazz."

Jazz turned around to face him, and tried his hardest to not look down at the hole.

"I'm sorry for whatever I did."

"Nah, it's cool, mech. Ah wasn't in a good place then."

There were a few beats of silence again.

"You were tiny, you know."

"Wha'?"

"When you separated. You were so small. You fit in your Carrier's hand. They were told you wouldn't make it."

Jazz settled down more comfortably. He didn't think Prowl would remember anything so soon, especially not anything from this long ago. Jazz most certainly didn't remember this, but he had watched the videos his creators had taken.

"I remember that you couldn't regulate your own temperature for a while, and when nobody was looking I would get into your berth with you and keep you warm, even though you had heaters in there with you." A small, sad smile was on Prowls face.

"An' Ah'd move away from the heater an' towards ya." Jazz replied, the video of when they had been found playing in his head. "They didn't wanna separate us, so they left us be."

"I'm sorry I don't remember more."

"It's fine. Ah expected it anyway."

"How... How close were we?"

Jazz's field shrunk in, and Prowl twitched forwards as if to follow it.

"We were... Very close."

"Are we..?" Prowl pointed between the two of them, pointing chest to chest.

"Bonded?" Jazz asked, suddenly very flustered. "No! No, we weren't. We... We were never in a position to."

"Oh." Prowl looked very confused for a moment. "Strange."

"Strange? How, exactly?" Jazz asked, helm tilting.

"We had all of the time beforehand."

"The war isn't a new thing, it's always been there since we joined the academy. We decided ta wait for it ta be over before we started ta even let our sparks see each other." Jazz replied, trying to not let his embarrassment show. Primus this was cruel! Discussing his sex life on the battlefield, faaaantastic.

"I... See."

"Don't think about it too much." Jazz advised.

The next cycle had Prowl in the medical bay, gaping hole now sealed up and an appointment made to get a real plate put into place instead of the hastily made one.

Jazz had gone to see him the moment his shift was over, despite how grumpy Prowl was. The mech never was friendly after being under the knife.

"I do not see why you insist on being here." He grumbled, optics on the datapad he was tapping away on.

"Because Ah want ya ta remember me as best as ya can!" Jazz cheerily replied. "Ya really shouldn't be workin'-" Jazz said, reaching forwards to take away the datapad when Prowl held it slightly higher. The slight change in height made all the difference, as Jazz could no longer reach it.

"No fair!"

"I am working." Prowl bluntly replied.

"Ya don't need ta be!"

"It is my function."

"Ya won't be functionin' if ya don't rest!"

"And I cannot rest with your constant whine in my audial."

"Ah'll stop talkin' when ya behave!"

"How about you do me a favour instead? Then you can talk all you want after. In my quarters there's a datapad that should have a blue label on it saying 'IRR'. Can you get it for me?"

"Sure, where is it?" Jazz asked, poised to leave.

"First drawer on the left."

Jazz trotted off to fetch it for him. Prowl had a smug look on his face as he settled down more comfortably – Jazz would be gone for a while. There was no blue-labeled datapad.

But Jazz did find something else instead.

He opened the first drawer on the left, and froze.

There was no datapad there, Prowl was right, but there was something else. The trinket stared back at him. Jazz hadn't seen it since he gave it to Prowl Vorns ago, yet here it was. Gently lifting it out, Jazz wondered how often Prowl had so much as looked at it. There was a dip in the surface of it, the trinket completely smoothed down – Prowl had certainly been repeatedly rubbing at it. Perhaps it was comforting? Maybe it'd help him remember something?

Shutting the drawer again, Jazz took the trinket back to the medical bay with him. Prowls expression didn't change when he saw Jazz come back in, but his doorwing twitched.

"Ah didn't find the datapad, but Ah found this." Jazz said, handing him the trinket. "It was in the drawer."

Prowl put his datapad to the side and took the trinket, staring intently at him. He…. He recognized it, it was there right there, he just… he couldn't reach it, whenever he tried it'd slip away… He looked up at Jazz for help.

"Ah gave this to ya when ya left the academy." Jazz clarified, realizing that Prowl probably didn't remember. "Ya said ya'd give it back when we met again, but ya never did."

The pieces suddenly fell into place. Jazz was important to him, very important, and they were close. Very close, oh he was so stupid! Just why he didn't remember, but Primus he'd do anything to remember. His thumb was rubbing it over and over, the groove worn into it perfectly shaped around his thumb.

"Can I be selfish and not return it? Not just yet. I-I want to remember."

"It's yours for as long as you need it." Jazz replied.

"Thank you."

Woooow, this was meant to be finished last year. My apologies for the wait! I know this story says complete but that's a horrid, filthy lie. I'll be filling this until the events of Twins, which I finally gave its own story! Yaaaay.