Fandom: Transformers G1
Author: gatekat and starsheild on LJ
Pairing: Jazz/Prowl, others
Rating: NC-17 for mech/mech
Codes: Slash, Sticky, PnP, Tactile, Power Imbalance, First Time(s), Slavery, Abuse
Summary: When Jazz took the job to break the Praxian enforcer's newest secret weapon against the mob, he had no idea he'd come out of it a completely different mech.
Disclaimer: The authors are only playing with their own twisted muses. Transformers belong to Hasbro. Fandom-side, check the inspirations page ( gatekat-fics .livejournal .com/290 .html ) We draw from a ton of amazing stories and authors you should read.
Notes: klik = 1 minute; breem = 8.3 minutes; joor = 1.2 hours; orn = day/32 joor; metacycle = 6 (5.9285) years; vorn = 83 years/14 metacycles
~text~ bond/hardline talk
::text:: comm chatter

Job Too Deep

Chapter 1: Setting the Stage

Jazz leaned back in his chair, just stopping himself from putting his feet up on the table. The last time he had given into that old habit it had earned him looks of disgust from his fellow enforcers and a reprimand from the commander.

It hadn't been anything serious. The old mech was too impressed with his work to really lay the law down on him. Jazz was even sure he could have kept right on doing it and all that would keep happening was a slap on the wrist and shoo out the door back to work, but that wasn't something he was willing to risk right now. He was getting paid good money for easy work at the moment, and he wasn't talking about his Enforcer salary.

Honestly, if the Enforcers where he came from got paid half of what the ones here made for double the work the locals did the ones from home might actually get their afts in gear and do something. But then on the flip side, if they got paid half as much as Jazz was making here they might spend too much time overcharged to actually get anything done, so he supposed it all balanced in the end.

No, he was getting paid good money to hang around here, handle the 'criminals' that wouldn't survive an orn locked up with the mildest of offenders Jazz was used to, and keep an optic out. Jazz's visor went dim as he reviewed the job again, going over all the points.

Acquire a position among the Praxain Enforcers. Check. Some record manipulation, minor cosmetic alterations, a lot of charm and a healthy dose of deception had made step one a walk in the local Crystal Gardens.

Work his way into a position of trust. These guys were easy enough. He showed up, did his job, watched his partners back, and at the end of the shift went out for energon with everyone else. More application of his patented charm and Jazz was on the up and up with little effort.

Find out what the hell tool the Praxians had acquired that was giving them inside information. Several of the local crime lords were getting fed up with having their business interrupted. Shipments were getting intercepted, key mechs were getting caught and actually convicted for the crimes they were committing, storehouses were being raided, and all together it was adding up to a serious profit loss.

If it was an actual tool Jazz was either to steal it himself, or arrange things so that the lords could get their hands on it. Something this effective, if they could not settle on a use for it among themselves, would surely bring a hefty price on the black market.

If it was a mech, Jazz was supposed to figure out how he was doing it, then figure out if the mech could be bought off. If he could be bought off Jazz was to find out how much the payoff was, and then see if the mech could be persuaded to seek other employment. And the persuasion did not have to be overly diplomatic.

If he couldn't be bought off and he couldn't be persuaded he was to be eliminated. Jazz had almost balked at that. He wasn't a killer for hire, never had been. Sure, he'd spilled energon before, but most of the time it had been in justifiable self defense. The one mech whose house he'd been robbing that one time had come after him with a knife, and as for the other one, wasn't a cannon a little overkill for an intruder?

In the end he'd agreed. The worst thing that could happen would be that Jazz would have to call in one of the favors owed him from mechs who didn't mind that sort of thing. So far though he had yet to hear a peep from whatever source they were using. All he knew what that every now and then he would sent out on a raid with frighteningly accurate information and stunning results.

Lowered voices reached him before the speakers entered the room, and Jazz settled a little further into his chair. They were talking, but not quietly enough, apparently believing themselves to be alone in the office this late in the evening.

"How long did they say Suresweep was going to be off duty?"

"At least a decaorn, possibly longer. They are going to have to install those components and make sure they integrate correctly, then they are going to have to monitor him for a while before they will clear him for active duty again."

"It can't go without a keeper that long. We'll have to find someone else."

"But who can we trust with a secret like that?"

"I don't-." the mechs rounded the corner into the room and stopped in their tracks upon spotting Jazz.

The mech black and white mech looked up from the datapad he was holding, visor brightening as though just noticing that they were there. "'ello. Summtin' I can do for ya?"

"No." One snapped, far too quickly. "Weren't you off shift a joor ago? What are you still doing here?"

Jazz acted as though he just noticed the time and held up the datapad by way of explanation. "Got caught up reading this and didn' notice da time. Yer right. I'll be goin'." With a friendly nod he stood, subspaced the pad, and wandered from the room, processor spinning all the while.

Whatever they had been discussing, it was obviously something they didn't want him to know about. Something that needed constant supervision, from the sound of it. Suresweep was a name Jazz recognized, and after a moment he put two and two together.

Suresweep was the name of the mech that seemed to randomly appear. Although now that he thought about it there was nothing random at all about the mechs appearance. He always appeared right before they were sent out on one of those crazy accurate raids.

Could Suresweep be the mech he was looking for?

Jazz considered that from all angles for a moment, then dismissed it with a frown. No, from what he had seen there was nothing special about the mech. And they were talking about needing a replacement for whatever job he had been doing, and they did not sounds pleased about it. So whatever 'Sweeper was doing, it wasn't an assignment that either of them wanted to take over.

They had something that required a keeper.

The frown was replaced by a slow smile as the last piece clicked into place. Suresweep took care of whatever they had that was giving them information. And from the sound of it, whatever he took care of didn't really require any special skills. Jazz knew exactly what was wrong with Suresweep, he had been the back up that called in when the mech had gotten hit at the robbery gone bad. Basic, but sensitive components to be replaced.

Next step in his assignment- take over Suresweep's job.

Chapter 2: An Offer Too Good to Refuse

"Jazz."

The Enforcer's head snapped up, meeting the gaze of the Praxian Chief, Snaplock. "Sir?" The formality would have grated any other time, but when he was playing a part it was an automatic and easy response.

"Come with me."

Jazz obeyed, curiosity growing as he followed the chief into his office and the mech closed the door behind them. When the door locked Jazz was instantly on his guard, visored gaze confirming the lay out of the office that he recalled from before and noting the presence of the other mech in the small room.

Detail, one of the mechs from the other night, and the assistant chief. The odds that they suspected him of anything were slim, and if they really thought he was a danger it would be very unwise of them to lock themselves in a room with someone they considered a danger. Hidden tension drained from him, though his level of vigilance only heightened in response.

Snaplock took a seat behind his desk and motioned to the remaining free chair, an invitation Jazz chose to ignore as he waited for them to explain what this was all about. He hadn't been putting his feet up on the tables, but it wouldn't surprise him if some of his fellow officers had found something else to complain about.

"The work you have done since your transfer has been exemplary." The chief commented.

Jazz could feel Detail observing his every movement, looking for something. The visored mech settled for inclining his head in polite acknowledgement. "Thank ya, sir."

"The reason listed here for transfer was ... training?"

Jazz smiled, turning on the charm full blast. "Well sir, it was a chance to see somethin' else. So when the cross department transfer's came round again I jumped at the chance to move on."

The chief nodded. The difference in living standards between the cities was something that everyone knew but few acknowledged. No one with a completely functioning processor wanted to go to Kaon, while places like Iacon and Praxus were considered desirable locations. The Enforcer exchange had been implemented in hopes of improving relationships and cooperation between the various Enforcer units, as well as expose officers to different ways of doing things. Jazz wasn't the first officer they had through the exchange for Kaon. He was just the least troublesome one they had ever had to deal with.

Feet on the table was sparkling play.

"What if I said we were willing to make the transfer permanent?"

Jazz stood up straight in surprise. While it was not completely unheard of, permanent transfers were rare, and usually the result of some sort of service above and beyond the normal call of duty. Jazz had done his duty well and efficiently since his arrival, but he had certainly done nothing to warrant that kind of reward.

"It is a very temptin' offer, I 'ave to admit." Jazz countered, allowing his skepticism to show.

"Not free." Detail grunted.

Jazz had to bury the snarky comeback that flashed into his processor first, the mask of professionalism plastered firmly on his face. "I didn' expect it ta be, though a'fore I accept I'd like ta know the price."

"You will take on a top secret assignment. You will speak of it to no one. You will deny all knowledge of its existence if confronted, and if the project comes to an end you forget that it ever existed."

Jazz took his time, making it look like he was giving the matter some serious thought, even though he had already made up his mind. He was sure this was the opportunity he had been waiting for, and there was no way in pit he was going to pass it up.

"I 'ave to accept afore you'll tell me what I'm doin'?"

"That is correct."

Jazz helm rocked from side to side, like he was still weighing the pro's and con's of the offer. "I accept."

"Very good. Detail will explain your new duties to you, and introduce you to your charge. He will also give you your new schedule. After today, this assignment is the only thing you need concern yourself with."

Recognizing that as a dismissal Jazz nodded and gave his 'entire' attention to the assistant chief.

Chapter 3: Meeting C-5

"Now that you understand all of the specifics of your assignment I will introduce you to your charge." Detail said as he stopped in front of a door. It was nondescript, marked only with a sign reading 'Authorized Personnel Access Only'. Since half of the doors in that sector were marked in the same way, it blended in with everything else perfectly.

Detail continued to speak as he punched the access code into control panel, having noticed Jazz studying the other doors in the corridor. "The access code you were given will only allow you into this room. The code will change every fifth orn, any time we are elevated to security level 2, or any time there is a suspected information breech. You will report to me every fifth orn to receive the new code and to brief me on the status of your assignment. If the code is changed for any other reason I will arrange to get the updated access combination to you."

Jazz had to resist the urge to make faces at the assistant chiefs' back. If the system he was looking at was all the security they were running he could hack his way into the room in less than five kliks. He followed Detail in the small room and froze just inside the door.

"Construct 5- this is your new keeper."

The mostly white mech in the small room had stood as soon as they had entered. He faced Detail, tall and frozen at attention. The assistant chief continued without waiting for an answer. "Enforcer Jazz will now be in charge of gathering your analysis. You are to expect him at 0900 each orn. You will give your analysis to no one else. The rest of your operational orders remain the same."

"Yes sir." The mech replied, sounding more like a drone then the mech his frame resembled. "Operational orders understood."

"Very good." Detail replied, ignoring the black and white mech after that as he looked at Jazz. "This is your new assignment. You have been briefed on the details. From this klik on he is your responsibility, and nothing had better happen to him."

"I get it, I get it." Jazz replied, following Detail from the room and tilting his head just enough to catch a glimpse of the mech still standing at attention as the door slid closed. Something was bothering him, and he just couldn't stop himself. "Construct 5?"

Detail waved a hand dismissively. "He was never given a designation. He was the fifth mech that was brought online for this purpose, so that is how he is referred to. It is not important. Tomorrow you will go see him. Around your visits will be arranged normal duty shifts so that nothing appears out of the ordinary. Just do not get yourself placed on medical leave like Suresweep. This resource is too valuable to be unusable for any length of time."

Jazz nodded, calm on the surface as he tried to work through these revelations. A lot pieces were falling into place- he could now complete the job he was being paid to do, and from his initial discoveries it might turn out even easier than he had first thought. In comparison though, he was seeing a side of the Praxus enforcers unit that was slightly disturbing, even to him.

"Right. I'll take care of it. Shifts'll be like normal, on the open announcements?" It was a stupid question, but something a normal mech would ask.

"Posted like normal, and fewer, since you do have other duties now." Detail replied, his processor obviously already miles away from the mech walking next to him. "I will expect to see you in five orns in my office to make your report and receive the updated access codes."

"Right." Jazz offered a wave that might have been a casual salute and parted ways from the mech that was making his protoform crawl. He had always thought there was something a little off about Detail, and now he was sure of it. Time to do some digging. He had been getting bored with the routine anyway.

Chapter 4: Questions Without Answers

Jazz sniffed the cube before sticking the tip of his glossa in just to confirm his findings. It was standard mid grade energon, the normal ration of any common working mech. Another something that didn't add up. Enforcers were paid enough that they could afford the higher end energon to give their active frames a boost, the same stuff that was normally supplied at the station.

But this is what the orders said the mech was to be supplied with. One cube a day. All of that added up to the fact that the mech did nothing that required physical exertion. Jazz mentally accessed the very limited personnel profile he had been given with the briefing file. If the frame type listed was correct, in fact, this amount of this grade of energon was barely enough to keep this mech functioning.

Jazz went over the file again.

Designation: Unknown (Pre-construct 5)
Frame-type: Standard Praxian Enforcer Frame
Special upgrades: Enhanced tactical and analysis computer
Training: Tactics, Statistical analysis
Occupation: Statistical Analysis
Home Location: Praxus Enforcers Headquarters
Status: On Special Loan

That was it. There was too much missing, even for someone who was trying to exist under the radar. Jazz could tell from looking at the file that the one he had been given had been edited severely, and he wanted to get his hands on the real file. If nothing else it would be dirt on the Praxus Enforcers. Dirt on the higher ups, since Jazz was sure that none of the mechs and femmes that served on the same level as him had any idea what was going on. All of them were too normal to have anything to do with this.

The access code worked just like it was supposed to, allowing Jazz into the 'restricted' room. He stopped inside the door, taking a moment to study the other mech, a chance he really hadn't had the day before.

He knew that there were security cameras watching him, and after today he wouldn't have an excuse to take the time that he was now. Walking into the room alone was something new- it would be perfectly normal for anyone with any sort of self-preservation protocols in place to stop and evaluate the situation. He followed the directions that required him to go ahead and step into the room so that the door shut behind him, then stopped.

The room was sparse- a simple berth, just large enough for the resident of the room. A table in the middle with two chairs. A research unit against one wall with no chair so the user had to stand to access it and heavily monitored, Jazz knew. No inquiry went out and no files went in that were not first approved by a computer and double checked by an intelligence agent in central. An open bare essentials wash rack in the corner completed the set up.

Before the door had even closed the mech inside was standing at strict attention, waiting. Jazz turned his attention from his quick mapping of the room to the mech. It was a standard Praxian enforcers frame. Enforcer black and white, the only color break in the monochrome was the decals that identified the mechs home unit- no rank marks, Jazz noted- a red chevron and standard blue optics. The color scheme extended to the doorwings flaring from the mechs back. The doorwing design had always confused Jazz. He knew that there extremely sensitive panels that gathered valuable information about the mech surroundings, but even in the short time he had been here Jazz had seen several of his follow officers laid low by those same appendages.

It was a design flaw, in his opinion. One that should have been simple to address. While he granted that they were aesthetically pleasing in the extreme, and Jazz was not above appreciating art, and the limitation perfectly acceptable among civilians, one would have thought that a better alternative would have been considered among the armed forces. Oh wait- he was in Praxus. They did everything with flare. Maybe flare was a mindset and the doorwings came with it.

Jazz resisted the urge to frown when he noticed the mech was still standing at attention, and for a movement he wondered if the mech had used the short span of time to take Jazz's measure. Actually irritated with himself he stepped forward and plopped the cube in the middle of the table. "Brought ya yer energon."

The mech didn't move. "Thank you."

Jazz waited, becoming more unnerved by the klik. "You have reports for me?"

Finally the mech moved, depositing a datapad on the table beside the energon. Jazz subspaced it quickly, filing away how clumsily the mech had moved. "Anything else to report?"

"Situation and functioning normal."

The monotone was really starting to creep Jazz out, and there wasn't a lot that creeped him anymore. "Right then. I'll be back tomorrow."

The mech looked straight ahead without acknowledgement and Jazz was gone. Out of there.

Chapter 5: 'Bout C-5...

Jazz mulled over the information he had pulled from the datachip he had picked up from the mech this morning. Jazz had a bunch of pieces, and he was sure they all went to the same puzzle, but there was no big picture for him to work from.

The same scene had played out every morning for the last two decaorn. Jazz would drop off the energon. The mech would set the datachip on the table for him to take, thank him for the energon, make the same report, and stand at firm attention until Jazz departed.

No deviation, ever.

Well, this morning was his meeting with Detail, and if Jazz played his hand right he might be able to find out a little more. From what he had read he would be very surprised if a raid did not occur within the next several orns. No one seemed interested in breaking the cycle.

"Enter," Detail's clipped voice ordered to his knock.

Jazz not quite marched into the office, maintaining his front as a good little enforcer. Or at least as good as they came from Kaon. "Today's analysis. And for a change the situation is still the same."

Detail gave a small grunt of acknowledgement and held his hand out for the chip.

Jazz obligingly dropped the datachip into the outstretched hand and took a step back, considering how best to approach the condition of the mech under his care. From his observation this was a standard level of concern. "'Bout C-5..."

Detail looked up, giving more of his attention now but a scowl was on his otherwise handsome face. "Yes?"

"'He's reportin' normal, but seems to me his efficiency a little down. Did someone screw up his energon ration?" Display the observation of a caretaker with a valuable object. That was the trick- imply nothing but the best interest of the condition of the object in question.

A quick check on his terminal and Detail seemed to consider something for a moment. "The system says he's receiving what he should, but test it from now on. I wouldn't put it past the crime lords to try and damage him. He should be receiving standard mid-grade."

Jazz nodded, knowing that the crime lords from Kaon had no idea what C-5 was at the moment, though they would be very interested when he finally gave them the news. He also knew, seeing as he was the one delivering it, that C-5was getting exactly was he was supposed to be receiving. One question answered, and a hundred new ones to replace it.

Detail looked up when Jazz hadn't moved. "Something else?"

"No sir. I'll be in tomorrow with a report an' to get the new codes, 'less ya needin' somethin' else from me?" Jazz waited, playing a little of the 'good' enforcer now.

"No, you're dismissed," Detail said simply, watching as Jazz left.

Jazz left the office, unruffled on the surface but processor whirling with plans and possibilities.

Chapter 6: Drinking with Suresweep

Jazz was walking out of the precinct after his posted shift when he heard a mech walking up on him with no effort to be quiet about it. He paused, glancing back. He'd played social enough that it was not uncommon for his fellow enforcers to seek him out after a shift for a night out. He was half surprised to see Suresweep coming up, a smile on his faceplates and an easy, relaxed flow to his movements.

When the other enforcer, painted the regulation black and white but with deep blue highlights and a golden chevron, saw him looking back he waved and grinned.

Jazz raised his hand in a return greeting. "Good to see ya back on your feet and functionin' after that hit ya took. Back on full duty?"

"Desk duty for another orn, then I'm back in the game," Suresweep grinned as he caught up and they began to walk together. "Care to come over for a drink or two?"

Jazz thought it over for a moment before nodding. "Sounds like a evenin' to me, mech. I could use a little downtime." He made an 'after you' motion. "They're really chainin' ya to a desk for that long?"

"It's not so bad," he shrugged as they transformed and merged into traffic. ::Just one more duty shift and I'm done. To be honest it's a nice break, but I'm looking forward to getting back in the field.::

Jazz followed suit, tailing him after dodging a mech that was either overcharged or completely distracted. ::Understood. I never liked settin' round much myself. But they're cuttin' me back some.::

::I noticed, but I was looking,:: his tone took on that quiet edge of 'we'll talk about that later' before moving on. ::How are you enjoying my city?::

::Likin' it well enough that I'm gonna take the Chief up on that offer of makin' it permanent.:: Jazz responded easily. ::Still trying to get used to all the flair. Things in Kaon tend to run to the practical, when they ain't jus' run down in general.::

::We do love beauty and flare,:: Suresweep agreed with clear pride in his native city. ::It makes Praxus, Praxus. The Gardens are our symbol for good reason.::

::From what little bit I've seen of 'em they deserve to be. Nothin' like 'em at home. So where we headin'?::

::My place,:: Suresweep gave a bit of a playful trill, one Jazz had learned well meant that ending up in the berth was welcome but not expected. Depending on the how the evening went Jazz might just take him up on that. It was safe enough here in Praxus, to do something like that. They fell into a companionable silence for the remainder of the short drive, pulling into a complex that housed many enforcers and transformed to walk the remainder of the way to Suresweep's door.

"Home sweet home," the Praxian said cheekily as the door slid open to reveal a well-lived in apartment. Its living room was clean and well furnished for Praxian comfort with a quality entertainment center along one wall and a huge picture window looking out over the city's Towers and downtown along another.

Jazz nodded in appreciation, wandering over to look out the window at the Towers and collect his thoughts. After a bit he turned back to Suresweep. "Very nice mech. Now I think ya mentioned a drink?"

"Of course," Suresweep walked over to a locked cabinet and took out two cubes of glittering golden energon. "Solar with traces of gold and bentonite," he offered a cube to his guest. "How are you settling in with your new duties?"

Jazz took it with the appropriate compliments. "Ya mean them switching my schedule around? Nothin' I'm not used to." He looked around and made himself at home on the sofa without waiting for an invitation. If Suresweep had a problem with it he would surely say something.

Instead the Praxian hummed and settled on the couch with him. "I meant the duties you took over from me."

Jazz took a drink, contemplating the energon and his answer. "Ya mean the ones tha' I'm assumin' we're both supposed to deny knowin' anything about?"

"We're free to talk here," Suresweep said with an understanding smile and nod. "Feel free to do your own sweep," he added with a motion around his home. "I'd been in the project long enough to be paranoid where I relax."

Even though he believed him Jazz did run his own check. It was always better to be safe than sorry, long experience had taught him. Satisfied the place was clean he tilted his head to the side, studying the mech seated beside him. "So just how long has this project been going on?"

"Longer than I've been functioning from what little I could find out about what happened before I was brought in," Suresweep sipped his high grade slowly, savoring the taste and the tingle of the strong charge on his glossa. "Prowl's the fifth one, but he's different. They got a spark who truly loves his duties in that one."

"Hard to tell from lookin' at him. Seems like he's jus' barely functionin'." Jazz commented, frowning. "What happened before they brought ya inta it?"

"Detail got promoted," he chuckled humorously. "He was the keeper before me. I guess I figure Prowl enjoys it because he's so much better at it than Silence, C-4, was. It's not like the hardware or software got upgraded that much. Only the spark is different." He paused, looking at his high grade with an almost guilty expression. "Want in on a secret?"

"Sure." Jazz paused, something just registering and he resisted the urge to smack himself. He was starting to slip, not having to be constantly on his guard with these soft Praxians. "Prowl?"

"It's what I call him," Suresweep shrugged. "Not that I've really dared say it with all the monitoring in his room. I try to sneak in a ration of good mid-grade, what we get, once a decaorn instead of that stuff he's supposed to be given. He ... I've gotten him to sorta smile with a sprinkle of silver in it." He stilled, staring into his cube for a lingering moment. "I got hit ... kinda on purpose."

"Couldn't take it any more?" Jazz asked, tone non-judgmental. He'd been thinking about switching the mech's energon up anyway, so there was nothing to say on that front. He rolled the designation Suresweep had given the mech around in his mind and wondered if the mech, Prowl, would live up to it, given the chance.

Suresweep just shook his head. "Criminals get treated better than that. It's not right to do that to a mech. Commissioned by the state or not, he's still got a spark. It was hard enough with Silence. I never saw anything in him. But Prowl ... there's a mech in there that deserves so much more than he'll ever have with me as his keeper. I don't have the spark to rebel, not that much. Not like I see in you."

Jazz pulled back, studying Suresweep suspiciously now. "Just what do ya think I'm plannin' mech? I know my job."

"Planning, nothing," the Praxian looked up at him with a sad smile and all the pain his duties had caused clear in his optics. "Probably not for vorns. But if you see what I did in him, you've got the spark to do something about it, even if it's just going over Praxus and bringing this to the Prime. It's why I recommended you from the short list they gave me. Kaon taught you to only give as much respect to authority as it deserves. Praxus doesn't work like that."

Jazz nodded slowly, the edge of defensiveness fading away. "Two questions."

"Ask," Suresweep met his gaze with a level of openness that would get him slaughtered in Kaon.

"What happened to Silence? C-4?" Jazz asked. "And exactly how much respect do they deserve?"

Jazz knew how much he thought they deserved, but it would be interesting to have an insider's perspective on the matter. Respect in Kaon was usually earned over shed energon, kept by the same means, and trust was a laughable concept.

"As much as any slaver does," Suresweep hissed, pained to say it but more pained by the truth of it. The venom in the Enforcer's EM field was shocking to Jazz after so long around such well-behaved mechs. "They had him sparked with the intent to lock him in a room for his entire functioning, starve him, work him thirty joor an orn with only two for recharge and nothing to spare. Blocked all protocols that might lead him to question his existence or if he's different." Suresweep was shaking now, his fingers so tight on the energon cube it might crack soon. "He barely has enough control over his own frame to drink without spilling. He has no tactile sensation beyond basic pressure gauges," the mech vented sharply, no longer able to control it now that he'd begun to spill his anger. "He can barely talk. Not because he doesn't understand, but because his vocalizer is that limited."

Jazz sat in silence, optics firmly on the distressed mech as he worked his way through all of this. It matched up with his observations very cleanly, and put several other things in perspective. "You were there when he was brought online?"

A small nod was all Suresweep could manage at first. "Came in one orn to find new orders. Silence was gone, no longer able to perform his function, they said. He'd been slowing, even with the extra energon, but if they'd just fed him right he'd have been fine. I never did find out exactly what happened to him. They ... discourage those sort of questions. Was told to report to HQ to be there to pick up my new charge."

Jazz toyed with the cube of energon he was holding. If he went through with this job the mech in discussion would just be trading one set of masters for another. "Are there records going back farther? More on the first three?" At least Jazz assumed there was only three. If they were willing to do this for tactical analysis, what other skeletons might the Praxian brass have hidden away? Might there be other projects?

Suresweep just laughed, but it was a decidedly unsettling sound devoid of all humor. "Oh, I'm sure there are. This is a planetary bureaucracy, Jazz. But finding them? Good luck there."

Jazz grunted in agreement, but he filed that idea away for later. He knew 'bots, ones that owed him favors. And the deeper he got into this the less he liked it. "So when you showed up they handed you Prowl."

A shudder passed through the mech's frame. "Not ... exactly. I was taken with Lord Streetwise and the High Priest of Praxus to Vector Sigma. It's a ... spark-changing experience to watch a frame gain a spark, even if it's not your creation, when it's just a construct intended for a function and not a sparkling. It was then I was given Construct 5. I began calling him Prowl in my processors in those first few orns when he was still full of energy, not the starved mech you met. He ... he's a curious spark. Playful, in his own way. At least he was, when he had the energy to show it."

Jazz had only ever heard of Vector Sigma, but he had been around enough sparklings to understand what Suresweep meant. There was something about the innocence of a spark that didn't know how harsh the outside world could be that was touching, something that made you believe there might be hope and light in the darkness.

"You'd think after they got one this effective they'd be taken better care of it."

Suresweep nodded faintly and took a long swig of his high grade. "Apparently if they take better care of their tools, treat them like, ya know, mechs, they might start diverting energy and focus from that tactical computer and because less efficient," he nearly snarled, downing the last of his cube and growling at it in irritation.

"They probably never had one 'round long enough to find out if it would make them more efficient." Jazz commented quietly as another thought caught up with him. "The lord of Praxus and the High Priest know this is goin' on?"

Suresweep looked up, meeting his visor. "They know they don't last long. How much else they know I'm not sure. It's possible that all of Prowl's limitations are the work of the enforcer brass, or just one or two of them. It's not like either of them have anything to do with the project after sparking."

Jazz laughed, a bitter sound. "No one thinks anything of an Enforcer not lasting long." In Kaon it was almost a given. If you lived long enough to voluntarily retire you were considered a statistical anomaly. It was better in Praxus, but the outlook for the common Enforcer still wasn't all that great.

A nod and wordless murmur of agreement was all Suresweep could muster. He huffed and stood. "Nother cube, Jazz?"

Jazz looked down at his not quite empty cube and weighed his trust of Suresweep against his current level of intoxication. "Nah, I'm good. But don't let me slow ya down."

The Praxian nodded and grabbed two more cubes from his stash. One was set down in easy reach while the other was opened and a long swig taken of it. "Have you gotten Prowl to react to you yet?"

"Nah, though I haven' tried very hard so far. Was wantin' to know a little more before I started playing games where someone migh' end up hurt, if ya follow my meanin'." Where he came from it was every mech for himself and whatever areas Jazz might be lacking in, self-preservation was not among them.

"Yeah, I do," Suresweep nodded. "He loves puzzles, games, anything that dives into tactical thinking. Really, I think he's just curious about anything and everything."

"Good to know. Jus' like a sparkling," Jazz filed that away for later and finished off his high grade, setting the cube aside and studying the mech.

"He is, in a lot of ways," Suresweep sighed as he worked on his second cube, now intending to get seriously overcharged and maybe burn a fair amount off in the berth with Jazz. "I expect most constructs are in their early vorns. They just have extra programming and data to mask it."

"Hmmm." Jazz hummed in agreement, processor turning to other things that did not involve quite so much deep thought.

Chapter 7: What in Pit is goin' on?

It was obvious something big was going on the moment Jazz set foot inside the station. Mechs were scurrying here and there, and Jazz had to jump out of the way more than once to avoid being run over. A quick headcount made it appear that there had to be at least twice as many individuals present above the norm, and Jazz set about finding someone he could get an explanation from.

Wading through the mess he finally found Suresweep planted behind a desk. "What in Pit is goin' on?"

The mech looked utterly harried, a little freaked out and excited all at once. "Prime's sending an envoy to inspect us. Ironhide and Red Alert."

Jazz considered this for a moment. Ironhide was a designation he recognized, a tough mech close to the current Prime. He didn't recognize the other one, but this seemed to be an awful lot of fuss for just an inspection. "So what's the big deal? We need to make sure all the windows are washed an' the floors polished?"

"Red Alert is Prime's security specialist," Suresweep explained. "He's going to take security and Intel apart," he added with a meaningful look for Jazz.

Jazz froze as the implications of that sunk in, crystallizing in his processor. Intel was very closely linked with Construct 5. And Construct 5 was defiantly something the brass would not want found by the Prime's envoys. There was a sharp ping on his comm, and he made a face as he filled Suresweep in, tone grim. "Well, I was jus' informed I'm wanted in the assistant chief's office on the double."

"Good luck," Suresweep told him before Jazz left, making respectable time to Detail's office.

As soon as the door was closed, Detail looked at him with a fierce scowl on his faceplates. "We can not have Construct 5 here for the inspection. You are to take him to your apartment and keep him there until Red Alert leaves. You have been placed on medical leave for a decaorn to cover for it."

Jazz had to cover a brief flicker of amusement at the strain the assistant was obviously under. He felt no sympathy for the mech whatsoever, and this opened all sorts of doors. "What sort of condition am I sufferin' from, 'case someone asks?"

"Comm system was blown out. Medic doesn't want you anywhere near a duty post when he doesn't know why it fried in the first place," Detail explained evenly.

So he was basically under radio silence. All the better. "Right. I'll go ahead an' move him now then. All this chaos will make a nice cover."

"I will send Suresweep to tell you when they're gone," Detail said with his dismissal.

Jazz waved at Suresweep as he departed the station, pausing just long enough to grab a couple cubes of energon before heading for the holding locations. Moving Prowl now just made sense. The brass wanted him out, and it would easy enough to bury him in the hustle and bustle, as long as Jazz was careful.

He slipped into the restricted access area and tapped in the code for Prowl's room.

The mech looked over at the change in routine and abruptly turned, offering a formal salute to keep with the norm. He noted that Jazz didn't have any energon with him and felt a strong flicker of disappointment. He liked feeling strong.

"Get all yer work together." Jazz ordered, pulling a cube from his subspace and setting it on the small worktable. "And drink that."

It was the stuff from the station. They had watched him take it, and they were probably watching them feed it to Prowl. If anyone questioned it, he was under orders to get Prowl moved and Detail would back the statement. Little hard to do if C-5 couldn't walk from his room to the street, much less transform ... oh frag, could he transform?

Without question, but with the tiniest change in his expression that passed for a Prowl-smile, the mech picked up the cube and downed it as quickly as he could while looked as impaired as he should be, then turned to the console to download what he was given access to.

Jazz swore softly to himself, studying the mech's back. "Ya done?"

"Yes Sir," Prowl responded in that perfect, drone-like tone he always used when Jazz had not specifically told him the monitoring devices were off.

"Good. Let's go." He herded Prowl from the room, relaxing a fraction once they were out in the hall, guiding Prowl with a hand to the larger mechs back. "Do you have a functioning alt mode?"

"No, Sir," Prowl responded, a fractional inflection in his tone of curiosity and confusion, though it would have been well-hidden from anyone who didn't know him as well as Jazz did.

"You will go where I tell you. You will speak to no one." Jazz said firmly as he guided Prowl to the door. He paused, looking at the mech before he opened it, not entirely sure how Prowl would react to the chaos outside, and added softly. "Trust me."

"Yes, Sir," Prowl's optics brightened slightly, the energon now flowing strongly in his systems and giving him a real boost.

When the door opened, the Praxian froze, every cable and servo in his frame going stiff as the absolute chaos of triple shifts getting ready for an inspection slammed into sensors that had never encountered more than two very sedate mechs at a time.

Jazz scanned the ebb and flow, quickly sorting out some sort of order and pressing his hand into Prowl's lower back. "To the right, around the crowd, and out the doors."

"Yes, Sir," Prowl responded by rote, reacting to the pressure of the hand on his lower back as much as the order. He shut down the majority of his input, focused the remainder on Jazz, and walked.

Jazz guided the mech through the crowd, glaring a bit when a few mechs didn't move out of the way fast enough. Outside the station wasn't much better with the normal busy flow of central Praxus.

"Seein' as how ya have no alt mode we're stuck takin' a public transport." Jazz said quietly. "Just go ahead an' leave ya sensors off."

"Yes Sir," Prowl responded, but to the sensitive touch still on his lower back he relaxed fractionally. His optics went up, and up, and up ... and if it wasn't for the perfectly blank mask, he gawked at the buildings, the sky...

Jazz followed his gaze and let him look for a klik. From what he had gathered from Suresweep Prowl had not been out of that room since he had been pulled from the Well. That knowledge was enough to make him flinch on a spark deep level.

There was a slave trade in the undergrounds in Kaon. Jazz had seen it, but even the slaves were treated like they had a value. To let one of them slip into the condition that Prowl had been in when Jazz found him was poor business. He pushed gently at the mech, the touch much softer then the words he spoke. "Get movin'. Ya can gawk later."

"Yes, Sir," Prowl said as he began to walk, allowing the touch to guide him as he had no clue where he was to go. He continued to look everywhere, his optics doing wide sweeps of the area in all directions as he made an effort not to walk into anyone or anything.

Jazz's apartment was small, but small was easier to secure. He keyed opened the door and motioned Prowl inside. The main room was an all in one-sitting room/living room which opened on to a small balcony. A door to the right opened into the berth room and the washracks.

He let the door close and turned to watch Prowl's reaction as the mech took in the space several times larger than his own room, his entire world up until less than a joor ago. It didn't come as a surprise when he was drawn to the balcony and the view of the city Prowl had done so much to protect.

The city moved on below him, oblivious to the wondering optics watching it. Jazz let him be, contemplating. Energon first- he needed to be able to think clearly. Then ... then he needed to figure out what he was going to do with the mech standing on his balcony. This was the chance he had been waiting for. He had a decaorn at his disposal, more than enough time to get Prowl healthy and functional. And then... he sighed, conflicted. This shouldn't be this difficult.

"Is something wrong, Jazz?" Prowl turned to look at his keeper, his manner that of the mech Jazz had spent so many recharge cycles coaxing out of his shell.

"I need to refuel." Jazz answered, avoiding the real source of his internal conflict. Of all the time for him to mysteriously download a conscious, it had to be now. "Ya want some?"

"Yes," Prowl perked up at the mention of energon. He always wanted some. His systems never registered full, even with the extra Jazz brought every recharge cycle and higher quality cube as his ornly ration.

Jazz hid a frown as he fetched two cubes from his supply. He'd have to keep an eye on the mech and make sure he didn't over-do it. "Here." He handed one to Prowl. "Did you turn your sensors back on?"

"I have now," he answered, taking the cube with the eagerness he displayed only when he knew the cameras were off. He didn't gulp it down, but there was no doubt he was very eager for the energy. "Will I be going back to the room?"

"I don' know." Jazz told him, an honest answer. He settled down on a couch and made a motion at the open space, an invitation. "Not for at least a deacorn, maybe longer than that."

Prowl nodded and sat, used to the invitation even if not the exact context, and went back to sipping his cube with a purring engine.

"Is this where you live?"

"Yea." Jazz looked around. The apartment, small as it was, was still far better than the place where he used to live. And far better than anything Prowl had ever known in his short existence. "Ya goin' to be livin' here for a while."

Prowl nodded and fell silent, working on consuming his energon while enjoying it. It was a bit of normal in a very odd orn for them both.

"Ya can go anywhere ya want in the apartment." Jazz said quietly. "Berthroom's through there, and the washrack as well. Maybe in a couple of orns..."

Maybe in a couple of orns he would attempt to take Prowl out for a breem or two. As long as Prowl was going to be here he would need to find things for the mech to do. Jazz didn't have a lot of entertainment just lying around.

Prowl nodded his understanding and finished his energon with the same wistful expression he usually had towards the extra cube he got when Jazz came for an unscheduled visit.

"Maybe you can show me the things you couldn't in my quarters?" Prowl asked hopefully.

"Yah mean yer cell? I think I can do that. Still underfueled?" Jazz had not missed that look. "And I do have a game or two lyin' around ya might like."

"Systems report at 14.7%," he said, honestly not certain if that was 'underfueled' or not. He had more energy than he usually did. "I did enjoy the one you brought me."

Jazz just shook his head, heading for his energon stores. His hand hovered momentarily over his stash of high grade before picking up another round of the good midgrade. If Prowl's energy levels were as low as the mech reported, the high grade probably wouldn't have its normal effect, but he would rather play it safe for the moment. The effects of highgrade on several of his fellow officers with similar frame types had been ... entertaining in the past.

"Here." He handed the cube to Prowl. "And that's probably enough for now. I do have another game like that." A game that he had actually bought with the intention of sneaking it to Prowl one recharge cycle. "As well as one that requires two players."

There was no missing how much Prowl perked up at the mention of the two player game, even as he took the energon cube eagerly. "May we play it?"

"Sure, when you're done with that." Jazz answered agreeably, digging the game out as Prowl continued to refuel. It occurred to Jazz as he pulled the game out that if Prowl's abilities continued to improve as his health improved it would not be long before Jazz didn't stand a chance.

Chapter 8: Settling In

Prowl settled on the berth, one much larger and softer than his. His engine rumbled pleasantly as Jazz laid down next to him, the warmth of the other mech even more pleasant than before the medic had fixed him. Before it was comforting. Now the energy ghosting across his EM field was enticing, energizing him in a way that energon didn't.

Jazz made himself comfortable, stretching out so he could study the other mech. "How are you feeling?"

The medic who had lifted the blocks and rerouted Prowl's systems so that they were running correctly had asked no questions and if confronted would answer none. He had warned that the simple shock to Prowl's systems of everything working like it should might throw the mech off balance for a bit.

There was a lingering pause as Prowl searched for the language to explain. Eventually he settled on "Different. It is not unpleasant, however it is unlike what I have known before."

"You'll adjust, then." Jazz replied confidently, reaching out to rub a hand over the other mech's back gently. Of Prowl's ability to adapt to the new situation he had no doubt. He had watched the mech evolve from barely a drone into this, a mech whose confidence grew by the orn as he seemed to absorb and integrate knowledge and the newness of the world around him with almost effortless ease.

A twinge of worry ran through Jazz. The one thing he was starting to doubt was whether Prowl would be able to go back to the life he had been living, the mech imitation of a drone, after seeing and experiencing living.

A powerful flare of Prowl's EM field slammed into his own, almost going deep enough to caress his spark. From his other responses, he doubted Prowl understood, but the Praxian was growing aroused, and quickly, at the simple touch along his backstrut.

Jazz pulled back, cursing himself softly. He had grown accustom to being able to touch Prowl anywhere and have it register as merely an act of comfort or guidance. He was getting complacent around a mech that that was constantly changing.

It was enough to draw Prowl's attention, however, and he looked over his shoulder, his doorwings shifting downwards to give him full view of the mech behind him. "Did I say something wrong, Jazz?"

Jazz struggled to regain control, even though on the surface he was as collected as ever. "Nah, it wasn' anything ya said." It was what you did. What he had done and was still doing.

"Then what?" Prowl pressed, his tone's concern matching his EM field in that, though it did little to temper the arousal building on Prowl's side. "Something made you pull away."

Jazz was silent, hands barely kept to himself. He had changed, he was coming to realize, only the changes had happened so slowly that he hadn't noticed them until now. Any other handsome mech in his berth as aroused as the one next to him and he would have been all over them in the space of a few nanoklicks. With Prowl, he was doing his best to hold back, to respect the fact that Prowl didn't fully understand what he was feeling.

Then Prowl shifted, rolling over to face Jazz and reached out to touch his cheek, concern open on a face as expressive as any when he wasn't controlling it. "Please tell me."

Jazz growled in frustration, the touch making it even harder to hold back. He grabbed Prowl's hand, holding it so that he was in control for the moment. "What do ya know 'bout interfacin'?"

"The medic provided what I understand are the standard introductory files," Prowl answered, then paused, his processor making the connection. "That desire is the odd sensation?"

"Yes. And if you keep that up..."

Prowl shifted fractionally, leaned forward and pressed his lips against Jazz's. His field flared again, driving into Jazz's body. "Or do more," he whispered into the shocked kiss.

"Do more an' you'll be findin' out a lot more than the files tell ya." Jazz warned, his last before he gave in to what he wanted to do to Prowl.

"Good," Prowl's fingers slid from Jazz's cheek, along his neck, down his chest. "I want to learn from you."

Growling again, Jazz leaned forward and captured Prowl lips in a possessive kiss. They went pliant under his, parting in offer. Prowl's touch became firmer, circling Jazz's headlights and molding their chassis together as best he could.

"Please, take me, teach me," Prowl shivered in a flare of arousal that made his spark flutter.

Jazz shuddered at the intensity. The energy and the strength of the emotions were staggering, and he struggled, wanting to take what being offered and probably not entirely understood.

The path Prowl's fingers had taken was repeated, testing, learning. Prowl's other hand worked down, learning the plates and gaps of Jazz's armor. Every touch electric, driving his need higher. Overload his processors told him was the term for his desire, for the ultimate purpose of this touching. He moaned, unashamed of wanting to fulfill this new need of his frame.

It felt good to be touched like this.

Jazz hissed, and fought down his own wants and desires for the moment, determined to fulfill Prowl's request. "Up. Turn around."

Without a moment's hesitation or question, Prowl pulled away. A whine escaped his vocalizer in protest, but he turned away from his keeper and settled on his knees. His doorwings quivered in anticipation, tracking every tiny movement Jazz made.

The other mech settled in behind him, hands starting in lightly on Prowl's back before wandering up to the doorwings, fingers ghosting over the sensitive appendages before delving deeper into joints.

A sharp gasp escaped Prowl before he moaned deeply and pressed into the contact. His fingers tightened around the berth coverings as the charge in his systems built enough to short out some of his finer motor controls.

"Oh, Jazz," his voice dropped almost a full octave and trembled with need.

Glossa joined fingers, playing over the wings as Jazz explored. Doorwings, he had come to find during his time in Praxus, were always sensitive, but some spots were more sensitive than others.

He was going to enjoy finding out exactly what worked on Prowl, at least once the mech wasn't so new to it that nearly any touch would overload him. It was delightful, the way the mech shuddered and moaned so easily. He could feel the charge building fast in the other's field and the way it zapped his fingers and glossa. Even so, it was a surprise how quickly Prowl stiffened with a cry that was half bliss and half panicked fear.

Jazz shuddered at the energy that tore through him from the other mech, reveling in it even as he caught Prowl and held him close, offering soft words of comfort and reassurance that this was good and right.

It was a long moment for Prowl's vents to cool him and the charge to dissipate enough for the mech to work out just what had happened. Yet once the initial panic at loosing control of his frame had passed, Jazz's words were enough to calm him and allow him to settle into the warm bliss of the afterglow.

He hands continued to trace soothing touches over Prowl's frame, not even attempting to contain the proud smirk on his face as the current condition of the other mech.

"That was ... intense," Prowl murmured, leaning back against his lover as his systems began to settle. "You ... ready for more?"

Jazz allowed his field to ripple and expand against Prowl, filled with desire and tension from holding back after the show he had just been witness to. He wanted more, but- "An' it only gets better, but I believe the real question is can ya handle more?"

"Yes," Prowl shivered at the prospect and pressed into Jazz's touch a little more strongly. "I want to make you feel that good."

Jazz purred, guiding Prowl back around and capturing him in a kiss as he pointedly placed Prowl's hands on particular breaks in his armor.

Prowl, intelligent, insightful, focused Prowl, only needed to be shown once. He dug fingers into those breaks, his full focus on Jazz's responses, on what touch, what part, felt best. With the worst of the arousal burned from his systems, it was easier to pay attention to his lover and his own actions.

In a moment of randomness, Prowl broke the kiss and licked his way down to Jazz's throat, teasing cabling with his glossa.

Jazz gasped, tilting his head to the side. "Good, very good." He whispered encouragingly as his fingers started to map Prowl's body. He shivered as Prowl pulled him close, almost into his lap. It rubbed their pelvic girdles together, sending a jolt of sensation through Jazz's penetrative interfacing module.

Almost immediately Prowl repeated the movement, rocking into Jazz's PIM's panel as his fingers worked towards it from behind. Jazz pressed into the touch, grabbing onto Prowl as his level of charge jumped.

"You like that," Prowl purred against Jazz's throat, slowly licking along a primary energon line as he scraped their pelvic girdles against each other again. His fingers worked forward, sliding over the valve, still hidden behind the panel Prowl wasn't aware of.

"Frag yes." Jazz swore, giving in and allowing the panel to slide away as he reached around to trace the edges of Prowls doorwings with his fingertips. He felt the surprise ripple across Prowl's frame and braced himself for a bad reaction. Most mechs were okay enough to not flip out, even if they didn't share his kink, but you never knew, and this wasn't exactly the best way to bring the subject up.

Yet once the surprise passed of Jazz having components he didn't, Prowl seemed eager to explore. A finger gently circled the pliant, overlapping plates around his valve, sending jolts of pleasure across Jazz's sensornet.

"What should I do?" Prowl whispered, his finger still circling, unwilling to do more without an idea of what was desired.

"That." Jazz responded, reaching down and guiding Prowl's fingers to press inside his valve, already slick with desire. His head fell forward to rest on Prowl's shoulder. "More."

Without any further hesitation Prowl began to slide his fingers in and out of the slick space, paying close attention to when Jazz gasped, shuddered or pressed a little harder into the touch. With his tactical computer dedicated to learning and exploiting this new realm of experience, of pleasuring his keeper, it didn't take long before Jazz was writhing, nearly incoherent in his arms and on his fingers.

Jazz gave up trying to reciprocate, selfishly enjoying what was being done to him as the charge built in his system. It seemed to suit Prowl just fine. The mech's systems were purring as he continued to thrust his fingers into the slickness of Jazz's valve, pressing against sensor nodes as he explored the space thoroughly.

"You feel so good," Prowl whispered as he held Jazz tightly. "Want to you feel good."

"Is good." Jazz managed, static clouding his voice so close to the edge.

Prowl revved his engine, hard, sending vibrations through Jazz's entire chassis. He continued to plunge his fingers in and out of the tight valve, curling his fingers slightly to press against the nodes more. His ventilations were short and sharp, aroused by the sight, feel and sound of his lover in such pleasure. He nuzzled Jazz's head up, intent on kissing him as he overloaded.

Jazz obliged, lifting his head as his frame went rigid, energy crackling over his plating. His valve clamped down around the fingers inside him, the calipers milking them just as they would a spike, but no fluids joined his. It still felt exquisite, the energy rushing through him, spiraling up from his valve to his spark. The mouth against his, eager, insistent, wanting, made it even better.

As he calmed down, he realized that Prowl was still thrusting into his valve, though it was a slower, gentler pace.

Jazz claimed another kiss, this one a gentle reflection of his current state of relaxation and contentment. "Such a quick learner."

"Thank you," Prowl murmured into another kiss. Yet the sound of his chest plates unlocking snapped Jazz out of his post over-load bliss.

Jazz flinched away, visor flashing in surprise and confusion. "Wha-?"

"Merge?" Prowl's voice was a question, but his parting chest plates was as clear intent as any words. He shifted to kiss Jazz again, the movement slipping his fingers from Jazz's valve. "I'm yours."

Jazz avoided the kiss, fighting down the panic that rippled through him. Introducing his charge to the pleasure of interfacing and overload were one thing, but this - this was permanent, a mark that couldn't be erased and something where Prowl obviously didn't yet grasp the full consequences. Couldn't grasp them yet. "Easy-slow down."

The mech stilled, his head cocked slightly. He brought a hand up to caress Jazz's face. "I'm yours," he repeated, softly, but no longer as sure as he had been.

"Ya might rethink that later down the road." Jazz replied, allowing the touch and avoiding looking anywhere in the direction of Prowl's spark. "And ya can't undo that."

"The probability of considering this a mistake is less than five percent," Prowl murmured, though he closed his chest plates. They didn't lock, but he nudged Jazz's face to look at him. "I'm yours Jazz."

Jazz reached up, stroking Prowl's face gently, trying to understand the anger he was feeling at the fact that Prowl didn't seem to understand. "That's 'cause ya don't have anything else to compare it to."

Prowl considered the statement, then shook his head even as he locked his chest plates and tried to keep the hurt from his face and voice. "You're my keeper," he murmured instead, lowering his forehelm to Jazz's. "I'm yours."

Jazz struggled to ignore the pull on his spark, the odd tightness he was experiencing at Prowl's distress. "I didn' say never." He framed Prowls face with his hands and kissed him. "Jus' not right now."

A soft hum, a willing intent to loose himself in pleasure and forget that he'd been denied, and Prowl returned the kiss, his fingers moving over Jazz's frame once more. "When you're ready, I'll be here."

Jazz opened his mouth to deny that possibility, with so many variables, then just gave up and gave into the pleasure. Prowl was smart - he would see the truth. Jazz would make sure he had that much of a chance.

But for now there was an escape from the confusing emotions he was experiencing, and he was going to take it.

Chapter 9: Interruptions Aren't Always Bad

Two orns after offering his spark to Jazz and Prowl was brooding on the small balcony. Sulking wouldn't be that incorrect, but he was too deep in plotting to be truly sulking. They'd interfaced many times, in many ways, and Prowl had asked about getting the upgrade that Jazz had. The echo of what a hand felt like sliding over a spike still made him tremble with want, and that had been no more than feeling through Jazz's systems.

He groaned as his systems heated, desire winding itself into his thoughts until he pushed off from the railing and went to find his keeper, his lover, and hope the mech was in a mood to indulge him.

Jazz was seated on the couch in the main room of his apartment, working his way through a bookfile. He needed to figure out what he was going to do with Prowl, but for the moment he needed to focus on something else. He had been trying so hard that his processor was starting to spin in circles, and he knew when to step back from a problem for a while.

His time with Prowl had been pleasant. More than pleasant. Amazing. Fantastic. Processor-blowing. The mech learned everything so fast, integrated and employed it so quickly. Everything but what Jazz really needed him to learn. That there was more to this world than Jazz and the apartment they were stuck in for the time being.

With a sigh he gave up, dropping the datapad and allowing his visor to go offline, thinking. It snapped back on a moment later when the sliding door to the balcony opened and Prowl's whisper-quiet steps entered. He didn't even need to look to know the mech was aroused. Even with just a few orns he knew the cadence of Prowl's systems, quiet as they were, when fully fueled and maintained.

The datapad was rescued and tucked safely away for later, and Jazz waited, welcoming the slightly larger mech when Prowl slid onto his lap, settling one leg to each side of Jazz's, and claimed a heated kiss.

Jazz returned the kiss, hands already wandering over Prowl's frame, seeking those particularly sensitive spots he had become very familiar with over the last couple orns. He wasn't sure what had brought this on, but he wasn't about to protest. Prowl never failed to melt his processor.

A low, heady moan reverberated between them from Prowl's chassis, his engine gunning it at the first touch. Neither mech wanted to acknowledge the door chime when it came. Prowl actually growled at it, earning him a soft laugh from Jazz before the mech pulled him closer, all for ignoring the door himself. He certainly wasn't expecting anyone.

Knowing white hands delved into Jazz's seams, eager, aggressive to wind Jazz up as tightly as he was. Then one found its way between their legs, pressing insistently at the interface cover for Jazz's spike.

"Open up for me, please," Prowl whispered hotly against Jazz's mouth.

The door chimed again and this time it was Jazz who growled. When Prowl asked like this, offered like this, he didn't want to tell him no. Whoever it was could leave whatever it was outside the door. Or to come back later. Much later.

A third chime and Jazz muttered dark promises of pain to the offender as he eased Prowl off his lap.

"Just let me get rid of them," Jazz whispered with a kiss, spark constricting painfully when he saw Prowl put on his 'I am a drone' mask and walk to the berthroom to pretend he did not have the energy to do much beyond recharge.

His face was a snarl when the door slid open, but the expression died a few nanokliks later when his processor caught up with who was standing there.

"Suresweep," he said more calmly. "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to see how Prowl's doing," the enforcer answered, his voice low.

"So nice of you to visit." Jazz stepped back, allowing him to enter, the statement/question a stretch to get a feeling for the true reason behind the visit. His less than pleasant tone revealed how irritated he still was, but that could be addressed one way or another in a bit.

"Mmm, yes, I am sorry about the apparent timing," Suresweep said apologetically as the door closed. "I would have come by later when you didn't answer, but that I caught this much downtime is a small miracle."

"So ya don' have very long to stay." Jazz guessed, sudden possibilities occurring to him, possible solutions to questions that had been bothering him now standing before him.

"Half joor, if I really push it," he nodded. "A breem or two's a little more accurate. I just wanted to see how he's doing. Probably the last chance I'll get."

That made Jazz pause. "Anything goin' on at the station I should know 'bout?"

"Just the insanity that is Ironhide and Red Alert," he shook his head, his doorwings twitching in exhausted irritation. "Don't know what the brass did to tick them off, but the rest of us are paying for it with double shifts and more. How is Prowl doing?"

Jazz waved him farther into the room. "Prowl, ya can come out."

"Thank you," Suresweep smiled at Jazz, his optics locked on the berthroom door as it slid open. His optics brightened at the smooth movements and polished armor. "Oh my. Prowl, you look incredible." He shifted his gaze to Jazz. "Just proper energon and time to do maintenance?"

"An' a little medical attention thrown in, ya." Jazz responded, not bothering to hide the pride in his voice as he observed Suresweep's reaction to a fully functioning Prowl, and studied Prowl's reaction to someone besides Jazz finally seeing him in his current state. Not that there was much to see. It looked for all the world like Prowl didn't even recognize him. He saw the moment Suresweep made the same observation.

"I'm Suresweep," he introduced himself. "I was your keeper before Jazz."

"Ah," Prowl inclined his head slightly in greeting. "That information was deleted when it was no longer relevant to my function."

"I shouldn't be surprised," he said sadly and stepped forward, close enough to Prowl to touch, though he didn't. "Jazz has managed more than I dared hope for you."

Jazz clamped down on the wave of possessiveness he felt at Suresweep's proximity to Prowl. He was never going to get the mech where he needed to be survive in life if Prowl didn't learn how to interact with others, and Suresweep was at least safe.

"He has taught me a great deal, and insisted I keep my energy levels at least 90%," Prowl actually sounded kind of amused in the 'I'm not sure why I'm supposed to' kind of way. "I will miss this when I return to duty."

"He's a fast learner." Jazz commented, ignoring the comment about Prowl's return to duty as he slipped closer, running a hand along one of Prowl's doorwings. He looked pointedly at Suresweep as Prowl moaned and pressed into the contact, his EM field flaring sharply with arousal that had barely cooled.

The Praxian raised an optic ridge as he took in the scene, at how easily Prowl responded to the touch. "So I interrupted you both," he said carefully. "My apologies. I can leave now."

"Ya can come back later." Jazz offered, "Or ya could always stay now." He continued to touch Prowl slowly, building the charge and working to pull those wonderful little sounds from the other mech as a hint and a temptation to Suresweep.

The other enforcer took a step backwards, his expression one of contrite near-panic.

"You want him?" Prowl murmured, turning to look at his keeper.

"An offer to share." Jazz explained quietly, visor locked on Suresweep as the mech relaxed. "You said you wanted to learn Prowl, this is something new."

"If you'd like," Suresweep smiled and stepped towards them, his hands open to Prowl, his doorwings fluttering in interest.

Prowl glanced between them, catching on, and nodded. "I would like to experience interfacing with another," he decided, his doorwings fluttering in reply. He reached out to take Suresweep's hand. "Do you have the PIM?"

"No," Suresweep shook his head. "It's not my thing."

"To each their own." Jazz observed, ceasing to tease Prowl as his and Suresweep's hands met. He watched as the older Praxian led Prowl to the berth, only to draw him chassis to chassis for a gentle, exploratory kiss.

Prowl returned it eagerly, his hands moving to stroke Suresweep's doorwings. The stroking moved into an attempt to imitate the touches that were employed on him so effectively, knowing what felt good to him and wondering if it was the same on someone with a similar frame type.

"Mmm, Jazz has been showing you all the good spots," Suresweep moaned and pressed into the contact. His own hands moved to slightly less known but just as pleasurable places, pressing his fingers into the gaps in Prowl's armor where chassis met legs and most of the bipedal balance actuators were located.

"He likes it when I make noise." Prowl explained, quivering at what Suresweep was doing and making notes to see if those spots worked as well on Jazz later. "And when he gets here-." Prowl's fingers found a very sensitive spot close to the base of the wings, "-I can't help myself."

Neither could Suresweep. His entire frame stiffened, quivering as deeply resonant sounds tore from his vocalizer and his powerful pursuit engine. It wasn't enough to stop his fingers, but it came close.

"Every frametype has its special spots," Jazz grinned, getting turned on by watching the pair. Jealous in a possessive way too, but he did his best to stamp that down and enjoy the show.

With a hum Prowl acknowledged the information and leaned in to nuzzle, then nibble Suresweep's throat, causing the mech's fans to kick up another notch.

With the last of his coherent thought, Suresweep got them on the berth. Prowl sitting, Suresweep straddling his lap, giving both of them full access to the other's doorwings.

Prowl's hands roamed over his fellow Praxian's back and the broader expanse of the doorwings surface, but always came back to tease the deeper seams and joints. Every time, Suresweep keened, whimpered and melted forward even as he pressed back, into the touch.

"Uplink?" Suresweep asked breathlessly, quivering with his fingers ghosting over Prowl's primary interface panel cover on his lower chest.

Prowl's optics flickered to where Jazz was watching, visor locked on two of them. For a moment Jazz was torn, not wanting to share that much, but he nodded encouragingly to Prowl.

In response Prowl opened the panel, offering system access to his lover.

With a trembling moan Suresweep plugged his interface cable into Prowl, then Prowl into his port. They both shuddered, moaning as their systems synched with a few bursts of data. Suresweep gave him a moment to relax into the light tingle of exchanging data and energy, then sent a burst into the mech's systems.

Prowl gasped, then stretched up to lock Suresweep in a kiss as he returned the energy, exploring. The feedback, feeling the pleasure in Suresweep's systems at his actions, was intense. Feeling him tremble and cry out when Suresweep reached around and dug his fingers into Prowl's wing-joints was nearly enough to send Prowl into overload as the sensation ricocheted between them, gathering strength with every relay.

Prowl moaned and his hands clenched against the force of the sensation before frantically seeking to return the pleasure racing through him. Pulses of energy exchanged, picking up speed as the pair shuddered and moaned. Neither dared break their kiss or grip on doorwing joints least they loose balance and fall apart.

With a sudden, stronger pulse Suresweep pushed Prowl over the edge, dragging a ragged keen from the younger mech before they both lost awareness. Prowl slid backwards, his doorwings flattening on pure reflex, and Suresweep sank on top of him, both their frames twitching and crackling with free energy.

Chapter 10: Admitting Love

Jazz sat on the berth beside the still recharging form of his charge and lover. Contradictory terms actually, in Jazz's processor, as he gently stroked Prowl's armor.

Prowl had seemed to enjoy his encounter with Suresweep, and Jazz had certainly enjoyed the show, despite the struggle it had been to keep his hands to himself. The caresses turned more possessive, wandering up to trace Prowl's face. He wanted...he wasn't sure anymore.

The soft hum of systems powering up without urgency filled the room, warning him that he'd soon have the ever-curious, perceptive processor to deal with, along with fingers and a glossa that were entirely too good at making a mech moan.

Jazz leaned down and gently kissed the bright chevron before returning to the gentle caresses. There were many things that needed to be addressed today, their time growing shorter than Jazz cared to acknowledge.

"Mmm, good morning Jazz," Prowl murmured before his optics even lit.

"Mornin'." Jazz smiled a little, deciding to enjoy the peaceful moment. "Recharge well?"

"Yes," he reached up to stroke Jazz's side, gradually powering his optics. "I will miss this, miss seeing you, when I go back."

Jazz sighed softly, not wanting to admit how much he was going to miss waking up to have the same mech in his berth every orn. But since Prowl had brought it up he might as well face the truth. "Suresweep is guessin' several more orns b'fore the orders arrive for your return."

"Then we should enjoy them," Prowl purred, his engine revving lightly as he reached up to draw Jazz down on top of him. "Memory replays are not as good, but they are better than I had before."

Jazz relaxed over Prowl's frame. "Suresweep said to tell ya thanks, by the way."

"He taught me," Prowl paused in his confusion, though his fingers continued to work, slowly, down Jazz's back.

"An' enjoyed doin' so." Jazz explained. "So he said ta thank ya for him, since he had to leave."

Prowl nodded and drew him in for a long, hungry kiss. "I've been browsing things to do with your PIM for those that don't have one," he all but purred, as excited by the learning as he was by the mech above him, the way his spark pulsed contentedly whenever Jazz was next to him.

Jazz twitched in surprise, but his expression was one of gentle amusement and affection. "So ya still like that? Not everyone does. "

Fingers pressed into the wires and cables of Jazz's hips as Prowl smiled up at him. "So I have gathered. You do, and I very much enjoy your response to my touch there," he actually purred as he slid a hand between them to tease the spike's housing cover.

Jazz moaned, leaning down to catch Prowl in kiss, lightly tracing his fingertips over the bits of doorwings he could reach. "And ya found somethin' ya want to try?"

"Yes," Prowl moaned into the kiss, his doorwings pressing upwards into the touch. "Be Jiita?"

Fingers stilled on doorwings for a moment before resuming tracing seemingly random patterns. "I'm not objectin' to the idea, but any particular reason?"

"I haven't tried it before," he smiled reassuringly. "I do like the taste of your kiss."

"And experience is the best teacher." Jazz kissed him again, only to moan into it when Prowl pressed a little more firmly against his spike cover. "Of course."

"Mmm, good," Prowl purred, curling the fingers inside Jazz's hip joint.

Jazz hissed in pleasure, hands pressing along Prowl's wings one more time. "Very good, but ya have ta let me up if ya want to continue, I think."

Reluctant, only just realizing that it was true, Prowl complied, his fingers slowly working out of Jazz's hip joint. Still he touched and caressed every wire and node he could along the way.

Jazz freed himself slowly, stealing another kiss as he moved off of Prowl, smiling down at the other mech. Patience, he'd forgotten, was not one of Prowl's virtues when it came to pleasure. Fingers curled against his spike cover once more, silently demanding it open. With a teasing click he settled back, allowing the cover to slide away.

He didn't want to think about it, especially not as his spike was gently stroked to full pressure, but he understood the mech's impatience. With only a few orns to live, he would be too.

With the ease of experience giving and receiving, Jazz moved, lightly guiding Prowl when downloaded instructions reached their limits. This was never as good as a valve, just like fingers or a toy were never as good as a hard spike, but it still felt good to have the warm cavity around the tip of his spike, the glossa willing, if crudely, stroking the sensor-rich, flexible plating.

Encouragement and praise mixed with as small sounds of pleasure from the feeling of someone who wanted to make him happy, wanted to bring him pleasure, because they could.

Prowl took the guidance with a relaxed grace, the encouragement with a purring engine and the euphoria of the spike in his mouth, against his glossa with an acceptance born in his spark. He brought his hands up, working fingers into seams to tweak wires and encourage Jazz to thrust into the sensations.

Jazz moaned, moving slowly both for Prowl's sake and to draw out the wonderful pleasure. His own hands moved to Prowl's helm, guiding and stroking. Strong white fingers moved from his hip to brush his interface cable panel cover, silently asking for admittance, for a hardline link.

The cover slid away instantly, Jazz reaching for Prowl's in return. This was the only way he had to give the other mech some idea of how amazing he felt, and Jazz wasn't about to deny either of them. The initial connection drug a ragged moan from Jazz and a shiver from Prowl, then Jazz trembled as his lover dropped every firewall he had, flooding Jazz with how incredible this felt to give and a wordless, fully aware invitation to everything Prowl was.

First and foremost was how different Jazz felt, on the spark level, from Suresweep, though the interfacing had been just as good. How much Prowl's spark calmed and soothed when Jazz was near him, yet at the same time Prowl's spark lunged in it's casing, desperate to make contact with Jazz's.

Jazz furiously tried to sort the flood of emotion, information, and feeling that sped across the connection. There was a truth and rightness behind it all, and on his end a fear of loss that he had been burying as best as he could. In the face of that trust and openness Jazz faced a decision he didn't want to make. A choice that could destroy both of them if he was wrong. He knew he didn't want to live without Prowl anymore, but now he wasn't so sure that he even could go on living without him.

He could keep that to himself. He could protect Prowl. That was his job, as the mechs keeper, to protect him from anything that would bring him harm and interfere with his assigned function. But in the end was that truly fair to Prowl, who never asked for a keeper to protect him from the world and from himself?

The pleasure building in his spike faded into the background as Jazz's processors focused on his dilemma and hiding the internal debate from Prowl. What was he going to do? So many choices, and none at all. No matter what he did he'd be betraying something important to him, risking both their sparks ... and who was he to make those choices for them both? Prowl couldn't choose for himself. It wasn't in the mech, not where Jazz was concerned. That was blindingly clear in the mech's processors.

Jazz's spark twisted and constricted in it's casing, the desire in his spark at war with the reality in his processor. "Prowl..."

He gradually slid his helm back, freeing his mouth, and looked up at his keeper with absolute trust mixed with intense desire. "Yes?"

Jazz tugged at him, pulling the other mech up to look into his optics. "What do you want?" He asked as he allowed the heavy weight pressing on him to travel back across the connection.

"You," Prowl answered without hesitation, focusing on the hardline to show Jazz everything he felt, how much his spark wanted this, at how his processors had calculated dozens of ways for them to be together; not one of which was legal in the least and how much Prowl did not care.

Jazz struggled for a moment longer. There were so much wrong with what he was about to do, but sometimes there was no right answer. "Remember before, when I said not now?" This probably wasn't the best time to be asking the mech questions, but he needed to at least try and get Prowl to understand.

"Yes," Prowl nodded. The memory was sharp in his processor, linked to pain and rejection, however briefly.

"I wan't tryin' to hurt ya. I was tryin' to protect ya. I'm not who ya think I am." Jazz explained, resisting the urge to touch to Prowl, to try and comfort him against the pain the truth was likely to bring.

"I know you don't want to hurt me," Prowl whispered, pushing that understanding to the forefront. "What you are or were or will be doesn't matter," he insisted, bringing one hand over his spark. "This knows you are right for me. That is what matters."

"I was sent here to hurt you. I was sent here to steal you, kidnap you, or kill you, whichever proved necessary. I took the assignment to be your keeper to get access to you." There was no way to soften that truth, so Jazz was simply blunt. He dropped firewalls, those that would allow Prowl to see that he was not lying.

Jazz couldn't deny the spark pull between them. He wasn't about to try when they both knew that it existed. If Prowl still wanted it Jazz wasn't going to fight it anymore. But he was going to offer Prowl the truth before. He cringed inwardly but kept his firewalls down as Prowl methodically examined his memories, his processors ... his existence and very programmed essence.

"You have no intent to hurt me now or in the future," Prowl summarized it simply. "I still perceive no reason not to trust you. No reason not to be yours."

"You've been doin' yer homework, but I'm sayin' it anyway." Jazz said, ignoring Prowl's last conclusion for the moment. "Spark merges are permanent. They fade if not renewed, but they never completely go away. And supposedly once ya make one no other partner 'ill ever feel right 'r comfortable."

"That's already true for me," Prowl said softly, his hands sliding up Jazz's chassis, sure of the touch and his words. "Suresweep felt good, but he wasn't you. Please, I don't want to loose you, loose this," he pushed the sensations of his spark when Jazz was near across the hardline. The peace, the feeling of right, of being complete, the desire to never let go.

Not a whisper of the reasons his processor gave for bonding to Jazz was there, though he offered those too, to show that he had thought of the wrong reasons, recognized them, their influence, but also that they were secondary. Yes, Prowl saw Jazz as his only escape from his prison, his only chance to remain free and thinking as a sentient being, his only chance to continue to feel the pleasure of his frame. Yet those were things his processor produced long after his spark understood he was meant for Jazz.

There was a soft click as Jazz's armor slowly slid out of the way, gaze never leaving Prowl's optics. The mech had thought it through, and even if Jazz wasn't completely convinced that Prowl understood what he was doing, Jazz was done fighting what they both wanted.

No matter which choice he made Jazz was making the decision for Prowl, for them both. And this way ... this way they might both have a chance.

Relief so intense it nearly knocked Jazz's stabilizer gyros off line flooded the hardline as Prowl slid his chestplates open, only a fraction of a nanoklik behind Jazz's.

~Thank you, Jazz,~ Prowl whispered, trembling mentally and physically in anticipation with no fear or hesitation.

Jazz reached up, tracing the outline of Prowl's face. No more reservations. No more hesitation. He pulled Prowl close, claiming a kiss that was returned with all the passion, certainty and desire Prowl had.

Their spark chambers began to cycle open. This close together the merge began before they were even fully open, flooding each mech with a sense of the other far more profound than the hardline connection.

After being denied so long there was no gentle merging, no slow decent. Their sparks plunged into the other as deeply and quickly as they could manage. Against him Prowl screamed and went stiff, pain radiating out from his spark at the sudden explosion of energy into it.

Neither body, spark nor processors tried to pull away, however. Prowl wanted this, utterly and completely. Pain held no fear for him, even before it faded as their sparks relaxed and settled into a matching rhythm.

~Jazz,~ Prowl whispered in reverent awe, but it came across their connected sparks this time.

~Prowl,~ the response was full of acceptance and something far deeper than mere affection.

Jazz moved, the after effects of the energy surge they had both just experienced slowing his movements as he stroked Prowl gently and explored the new connection. For reasons he couldn't put into words he was now content and at peace in a way he couldn't ever recall having experienced.

Prowl's spark nuzzled his, at least that was the sensation Jazz experienced. From the simple perceptions of a processor and spark unencumbered by living lies and general distrust came an affectionate, happy sort of 'I told you so' sense.

"So you did," Jazz sighed, his own spark leaning into the touch. Jazz still had fears. Many of them. But for the moment his spark felt light. ~Regret?~

~None,~ Prowl actually purred against him, processor, chassis and spark in utter agreement and unison. ~You understand now. I . Am. Yours. I always have been. Now, you know I always will be,~ he forced his arms to move to wrap Jazz in an embrace. ~We are everything I had dared hope for and more.~

~Everything and more.~ Jazz repeated, holding Prowl close. Prowl was his. ~Mine. Yours.~ An offering, acknowledgment and promise.

Chapter 11: The Morning After

Peaceful. Content. Jazz's systems came online slowly as the mech reached out, searching for something, and snapped into full operation when he didn't find what he sought. Jazz jerked upright, looking around for Prowl.

The mech wasn't in their berth, wasn't in the room. A cube of energon was set on the berthside table, but that was all. Even the place Prowl had recharged with him was cool.

A brush against his spark, not words or even thoughts, simply a presence becoming active, drew his attention inward.

Jazz stopped, feeling and looking with his spark now, his almost panic fading as he slid from the berth and grabbed the energon before setting off to join his sparkmate. He paused at the berthroom door, simply taking in the sight of Prowl, doorwings spread high and wide, leaning forward slightly on the balcony's rail as he stared out over Praxus.

"Did you recharge well?" Prowl asked, his voice deep and warm, full of affection and honest concern for Jazz's state, though the mech did not move. "I did not mean to distress you. I find I process complex variables here."

Jazz took a drink of the energon, much better now that he knew Prowl was here and safe. Stepping forward he offered the some to Prowl, wrapping his free arm around the other mech and leaning into him.

"I recharged wonderful, 'till I woke an' found ya gone." There was no anger or accusation in his tone. "Dare I ask what yer processin'?"

"Our next move," Prowl murmured as he accepted the cube and took a sip before handing it back. "You know so much more of how the outside world operates than I had access to. I needed to recalculate the probabilities of success of many plans."

Jazz held him tighter. There were in so deep now he wasn't sure there was a way out. But he had faith in Prowl. "Ya found somethin' that's goin' save us?"

This time Prowl did turn to face his bondmate, leaning forward to kiss him gently. "I believe so. A question first. Do you have the resources to buy my contract?"

"Mmmmm..." Jazz sighed, contemplating that for a moment. "If it even still publicly exists ... I may."

"Then approach Lord Crossways or Lord Streetwise about it. Tell him of the spark resonance if he asks why, if you think it best," Prowl murmured before kissing him again. "If I am officially free we have far greater options. If not, we will have to escape Praxus and hide until we can bribe a medic to remove the tracking devices I surely have and make enough modifications to my frame and files that no one can prove who I was. I recommend we be prepared to escape directly after your meeting if they do not agree to selling me."

Jazz flinched. He was entirely sure there were multiple nasty surprises hidden in Prowl's frame. Some of them probably far worse than simple tracking devices. He never had managed to find out what had happened to the constructs before Prowl.

"You wanna risk runnin' if they say no or I can't afford ya?"

"The mechs who sent you will have access to the specialists I need to be free," Prowl vented softly. "It is a less than idea choice, but it is better than spending the rest of my existence starving and locked in that room. Once I am there it will be much more difficult to get me out."

"I'll getcha out." Jazz assured him, holding him tighter. "And at least there ya would be relatively safe 'till we can find a way ta get ya outta there." Safe from those who had commissioned him and from those who had paid Jazz to find him, at least.

Prowl shivered, and for the first time Jazz felt pain from the mech; pain that was as much emotional as physical. Raw and desperate, pushing hard towards panic and only just kept in check.

"I don't want to be hungry again," he whispered, his grip on Jazz almost too tight. "I don't want to be locked up without music or the sky or you."

"Not hungry. And I can't promise the sky, but music I'll bring ya, and me." Jazz promised quietly, stroking Prowl's soothingly. He pushed comfort at Prowl over their bond. ~And not alone. I'm always with ya now, 'member?~

He didn't want to send Prowl back there. It was even worse, to him, because he was the one that was going to be taking Prowl back, personally placing his sparkmate in a position that was going to hurt him. But risking the mech by running when there were less dangerous, if not necessarily easier to handle, alternatives was something he couldn't justify to himself.

A small whimper escaped the Praxian, but Prowl nodded against Jazz's neck. He was still desperate to avoid going back, but he would. He trusted Jazz. Jazz would do what was best, even if it hurt them both. He could plan, but he never executed his plans, never chose which one was best. It was not his place. He merely analyzed data and extrapolated the most likely patterns and reasons for it.

"I ... they will see and hear nothing unusual," Prowl offered a promise that held the weight of a spark-oath. "Nothing they did not see before. I will hold still until you come for me at night."

"Ya come up with somethin' better an' we'll use it." Jazz told him, acknowledging the promise but knowing that Prowl's safety outweighing personal comfort for the time being. "And think on it as much as ya want. Ye need to know, ask. And think of me."

~Always, my Jazz,~ Prowl murmured across the fledgling bond, all his trust in his keeper at the forefront of the thought. His doorwings twitched and flexed, then he drew his head back slightly to place a gentle, chaste kiss on Jazz's lip plates, only just hinting that more was desired.

Jazz growled softly, his response not nearly so chaste as his hands ran over Prowl, stopping suggestively just over the where the mech's spark lay.

Shamelessly Prowl pressed into that touch, his own becoming aggressively arousing, intent on driving Jazz to his knees in ecstasy. "You know, I never did finish with your spike," he purred deep in his chest, his engine driving the sound.

"No, no ya didn'." Jazz agreed. "And I told ya to think about me. I should make sure it's good thoughts."

"Always," Prowl shivered in excitement as he knelt and nuzzled Jazz's codpiece. "Open for me," he purred with a lick along the heated metal, not caring that they were on the balcony and visible to anyone who cared to look at that particular spot.

"Inside." Jazz countered, just as eager as he tipped Prowl's head up to steal a kiss before tugging the unresisting mech to his feet. "Inside."

Chapter 12: Returning to The Room

Jazz led Prowl through the early morning calm and quiet of the station. There were few present to notice their passage, and anyone who did would most likely pay little attention. He added getting Prowl a functioning alt mode to the list of top priority things to be done as soon as Prowl was free.

The new code delivered by Suresweep when he stopped with the orders to return Prowl worked perfectly, opening the way into the small room that served as Prowl's prison. Jazz resisted the urge to enter first and check it out, motioning Prowl in instead.

Once again he had to mindful that their every move was being watched, recorded and analyzed. Once again he had to treat the mech he loved as an object instead of something that was more dear to him than his own functioning. It was a toss-up as to which one of them was going to find it harder to maintain this act.

Just watching Prowl move with the slow, jerky motions of before hurt in ways Jazz never thought possible. Watching his bondmate, the one his spark had called for longer than he cared to contemplate, make his way to the terminal, turn around and salute, stiff as a statue and only slightly more mobile, nearly drew a whine of protest from his vocalizer. He had to keep telling himself it was the best choice. That this was the safest way, no matter how much it hurt.

He pushed his love, pride and reassurance across their fledgling bond and felt Prowl nearly falter in his act as love and determination flowed back. Still, Prowl couldn't hide his distress, his fear or his struggle not to panic in the small, barren room from his bondmate.

Calm. Jazz sent calm. He wasn't going very far. He would be back tonight, as early as he could manage without getting caught. And he would have at least the start of a plan for getting Prowl out of there.

Appreciation came back as Prowl relaxed slightly, internally at least. Love flowed with a nudge to leave.

Jazz turned his head, scanning the room one last time, said the same thing every time he had said when he left Prowl before and left to make his report to Detail.

Only this time he left Prowl with the promise of soon and love.

Chapter 13: An Evening in The Room

Five orns.

Five orns he'd been stuck in this room that only devotion to Jazz had gotten him to enter again.

Five orns with nothing to do for joors an orn except for his duties, pretending to be a drone with limited physical control and the music Jazz had smuggled to him playing internally. It was hard. Very hard. Yet thanks to Jazz hacking of the security feeds, as long as he kept downloading data when it arrived, no one was suspicious that he was no longer working more than Jazz's joors.

Joors that had come to end as Jazz slipped into the secure room, looking particularly worn at the end of this shift. The mech held out his hands, reaching out with his spark as well. "Loop's on. It's a good thing yer routine never varied much."

Prowl brightened immediately, all the protocols written to keep himself appearing as if nothing had changed turning off in the same moment, flooding Jazz with his love and gratefulness as he swept the slightly smaller mech into his arms and kissed him hard.

"What has troubled you, my Jazz?" Prowl murmured, stroking his hands down well-polished plating.

Jazz's head fell against his bondmate's shoulder, leaning into the touch accepting the love offered, thankful to be in arms of his mate. "We gotta problem."

"We have a brilliant tactician and a gifted saboteur," Prowl murmured, drawing Jazz towards the berth and into his lap as he sat in the only place he could. Despite the smooth words, Jazz could feel how uncomfortable the words were for Prowl. "We will find a way out."

Jazz settled against Prowl, drawing an energon ration from his subspace and handing it to Prowl. "Refuel first." He wanted a few moments of peace, even if it was a false peace, before he handed Prowl the latest round of bad news.

Without question Prowl shifted so he held Jazz with one arm and held his energon in the other hand, drinking it quickly without gulping it down the way he did his official ration.

"Ya can take yer time." Jazz commented, touching Prowl gently as he allowed amusement to show.

Amusement and tolerant annoyance flickered back.

"Some orn," Prowl murmured, pausing to give Jazz's helm a kiss. "This place ... all I can think of is being hungry once I knew what having a full tank was like." His free hand stroked Jazz's arm. "I know I won't be hungry ever again. I can't stop it," he whispered an apology before returning to his cube.

Anger flared though Jazz before he got himself under control. The abuse his bonded had suffered, was still suffering, was enough to set him off with the slightest reminder. "Don' ever be sorry for that."

Prowl hummed, rubbing Jazz's arm as their bond flickered and flowed with agreement, a promise that Prowl would try. The belief that he deserved things, even basics such as energon and recharge time, was still trying to settle in his processor. He was greedy for it, for touch, for conversation, but especially for energon and pleasure. For the things he hadn't known until Jazz began to focus on him.

Jazz rubbed slow circles on Prowl's armor, waiting until Prowl was done with his energon, trying to evaluate exactly how tired his mate was. The strain of separation was starting to wear on them both in a way that energon and recharge couldn't repair.

A soft kiss between his horns drew Jazz's attention upwards and into a tender, chaste kiss as the empty cube was dissipated. "Tell me the bad news. My tactical computer can work on it while we recharge."

"Yer 'performance is lackin'. The last two raids went...bad. I'm supposed to 'evaluate' yer condition and report when I drop off yer next analysis." Jazz explained quietly, hesitating.

Prowl flinched, optics offlining as he reviewed the analysis and conclusions he had produced the past few orns. It was so hard to focus when Jazz was away. Looking now he could find flaws, holes and faulty conclusions visible on a second, closer inspection that would have caused the plans submitted with the analysis to fail.

"Easy." Jazz soothed, visor growing dim as he stretched out by Prowl, focusing on his mate with the rest of his senses. "I hung 'round after they thought I was long gone and I heard stuff I wasn' supposed ta. There was talk of havin' ya replaced, commissionin' a new project."

Prowl considered this, distracted briefly as he had to download new data sent to his terminal by Intel to maintain the impression that he was still standing at it.

"Is there an option where they shut the program down on the table?" Prowl asked quietly.

"After all the attention an' praise fer what ya've let 'em get done? Not that I heard." Jazz had no doubt they would do away with Prowl if that was the most convenient option. From what Suresweep had told him it had not been an issue in the past.

Prowl murmured wordlessly as he processed that. "How much time do you need to put the remainder of your plan in place?"

"I can send that message first thing after I report. From there it's all them. Word it right an' from what I've heard it shouldn' take long." Jazz figured quietly.

Prowl held still for a long moment, stroking Jazz's side as he thought. Eventually he tipped Jazz's helm up for a fierce kiss, full of passion and desire, only to break it off before either of them became too heated. "Do you think they will decide to have me replaced?"

Jazz thought it over for a long time, weighing options against each other. He couldn't fully suppress the fear he felt when he reached his conclusion. "'Less I can convince it's only temporary, yea."

Across the bond, from Prowl, there was no fear. Anticipation, muted excitement, a little nervousness, but no fear. Not for the plan and not for all that could go wrong.

Then it flickered, flared brightly for a moment before it stilled.

"What will happen to you if I am deactivated?" Prowl asked quietly, naming his fear.

"If they get ya-."Jazz held him that much tighter, denying the idea with everything he was. "If they get ya, I'll go too."

With gentle white hands Prowl stroked Jazz's plating, trying to sooth him. Their bond hummed with uneasy fear on one side and gentle sadness on the other.

"I am sorry, my Jazz," Prowl murmured. "I will do what I can to avoid deactivating. There must not be a Construct 6. At any cost. I can not pay for my freedom with condemning another to this place."

"There won't be." A grim promise, an oath. Jazz had no doubt that he would follow Prowl out of this world if the mech was deactivated no matter how new their bond, but that didn't mean he wouldn't take care of some business before he was gone. Whoever was involved with the implementation and continuing operation of the Construct program would be joining them in the Well.

"Have you found out what is likely to happen when I am decommissioned?"

"Based on wha' little bit I've learned? They get rid of ya, one way or another, and petition fer another construct from Vector Sigma. I'd say I'd tell them ya just need a system's tune-up, ya fell or somethin' when ya where with me and yer relays got jarred outta alignment, but they could 'ave a medic in here within' a day. An' I'm not sure I could find out who it was gonna be 'fore they walked in the door."

Prowl tensed, his fingers scraping against Jazz's armor as he struggled to even voice what was crossing his processors. He ended up working at it sideways.

"This medic would be who deactivates me, by their plan?"

Jazz caught Prowl's hand, holding it in his own. He hadn't explained that very well. "Nah. Not if they were a real medic, and it'd have to be someone who knew what they were doin' to mess with yer systems. If I tell'em ya just need fixed we might have an orn 'fore they got someon' ta check ya over. Problem is the medic 'ill turn right around an' tell 'em yer fine 'cept bonded, rasin' all sorts a new questions."

Jazz reached up to stroke Prowl's face. "I tell 'em your systems are still scrambled from havin' your routine messed with, suffering from system shock or something. Mayb' say it's looking like it's wearin' off. Redo what I'm takin' 'em when I report while I'm here this cycle so it's good. 'Course yer the tactician. If ya see a way outta this I'm missin'-."

Prowl stilled, other than continued stroking of Jazz's side and flank. His processor rolling it over and examining the options the same way he did all others.

"I can produce a good plan, not exceptional, but good," he began cautiously. "To buy you enough time to ensure Ironhide is on his way. Or at least closer. Jazz ... if they come for me ... should ... should I fight?"

Now it was Jazz's turn to roll things around, to look at it all from every angle he could imagine. Conclusion reached he kissed Prowl before resting his helm against his mate's. Deep in his spark he doubted that Prowl would make it out of the station alive if he resisted, but -."Do what ya think best. If ya can buy time fer me to reach ya, do it. If not-."

"Go quietly and try to tell you where I am," Prowl finished for him, drawing him into a kiss as he attempted to contemplate his mortality. "So you can recover my frame and the evidence it contains ... or that there will be no point to trying. So you can brace for the pain."

Now there was sorrow in Prowl's spark, at the thought of his inability to affect the fate of his bondmate when it came to whether their plan worked or not. It was, in nearly every way, out of both their control.

Jazz settled in, wrapping his arms around Prowl to hold the mech close as he offered assurance over the bond between them. He had no desire to live without Prowl any more, so even if Prowl had been able to do something about it the point was moot.

"Recharge, love." He ordered gently, watching as Prowl obeyed and keeping vigilance over the sleeping mech until he too slipped offline.

Chapter 14: Meetings

On the outside, Jazz was calm.

On the inside everything was spinning so fast it was a miracle he wasn't falling to pieces. When he started this job the kind of challenge he was walking into would have been exciting, a thrill. Now, with so much at stake, it was terrifying.

He paused outside the office door, daring to take a moment and reach into his spark, to touch that place that was Prowl and borrow from the calm and focus that resided there. To reaffirm his conviction that this was all worth the risk.

To feel the love that lived there.

He knocked at the door.

"Enter," Chief Snaplock called, expecting Jazz and this report.

Jazz opened the door and strolled in, his usual act of casual borderline insubordination on display. "Mornin' Cheif."

The blue, green and white Praxian minor noble grunted but otherwise remained silent, Detail at his side, until the door locked behind Jazz.

"Report," the Chief demanded.

"Nothin' outta the ordinary." Jazz responded, dropping the reports on the desk. "Actin' same as he always has here."

Both Praxians considered him.

"Then what is your opinion on why his plans have been so poor lately?" Snaplock asked.

"He's been back less than a decacycle." Jazz looked at them like both of their processors were in need of a good defrag. "Granted, all I did was shove 'im in a closet and feed 'in every now and then, but that still busted his routine ta smithereens. It's prolly gonna take some time 'fer his systems ta settle again."

The two Praxians exchanged a look, then Chief Snaplock nodded. "Have you seen any indication he is beginning to settle?"

Jazz shrugged. "With him, it's hard ta tell. Maybe."

Snaplock nodded. "Report to me on his condition in three orns."

Jazz saluted. He would push their buttons, but he wouldn't push them too far. "If there's nuthin' else?"

"Dismissed," Snaplock told him.

Jazz left, silently seething. He needed to find a free workstation to send that message. It was all composed, all the proof attached to it, and a routing code that should get it where it needed to go.

Even though he felt it in his spark that the unexpected arrival was his bondmate, he couldn't help the jolt of fear as he clumsily turned around and saluted at the sound of the door opening. There was no telling who, if anyone, was with Jazz, or why they had come. Had the plan gone wrong? Had they been discovered? Were they planning to execute his lover in front of him to teach him not to be a mech?

Jazz ducked inside, the door sliding smoothly closed behind him as he crossed the room to Prowl and swept the mech up in his arms. "Loops on, but only fer a bit. I gotta go soon."

He had a moment to spare though, to chase that fear away and offer a tiny bit of hope to replace it. Prowl trembled in his arms and hugged him back tightly.

"They believed you, we have time?" Prowl's voice trembled as he shut down the increasingly terrifying line of thoughts on what could have gone wrong.

"Oh, the brass bought the lie easy." Jazz assured him, running comforting hands over Prowl's frame, his own spark resting a little easier so close to its mate and relaxing that much more when Prowl's did.

"Good," Prowl x-vented in relief and hugged Jazz tightly. "Ironhide is coming, soon?"

The smaller mech laughed, an odd and slightly strained sound. "That's why I can't stay ta 'charge with ya. They wanna meet face ta face. 'Parently the Prime's not interested in draggin' 'is heels with somethin' like this."

A rush of relief exploded from Prowl spark and he kissed his bondmate with a fierce desire. "Good. It's well worth missing a recharge with you if Prime is already here."

"Just how plausible is this?" Optimus Prime asked of his assembled inner circle of officers, friends and lovers.

"Streetwise is untrustworthy, even by noble standards," Red Alert spoke first. "I would put nothing past him." Unfortunately the ramifications of removing the ruling lord were such that the upset that would result was worse than the crimes Streetwise was suspected of committing.

"Technologically, it's possible, and beyond illegal," Ratchet growled. "If half of that evidence is true, this makes Kaon's slave trade look like sparkling games as far as cruelty goes."

"We saw nothing while we were inspecting, Prime," Ironhide rumbled. "Nothing unusual, and nothing of their secret tactical advantage."

"Which of course could be evidence that there was nothing to find, but the station was very clean, even for Praxian standards." The idea that this was only now just bothering him started to set Red Alert off a bit.

"The evidence was significant," Prime hummed unhappily.

A royal guard, one of only two with the small group, ran in, skidded to a stop and saluted. "Lord Prime, he's here."

"Show him in then," Prime nodded.

The mech that followed the guard in was collected, though obviously wary as he glanced at each of the room's occupants in turn, acknowledging the Prime with a polite nod of his head and sparing an extra moment of study for Red Alert, a mech he had heard a great deal about, and most of it unflattering.

The poor security director was twitching in his seat, a small part of his processor still convinced that this was all a trap to get at the Prime, forgetting that his Prime was well able to handle himself in a fight and was surrounded by competent individuals willing and ready to give their sparks in his defense.

"Well?" Ratchet finally grumbled, wanting someone to get the meeting underway.

Optimus regarded the black and white Polyhexian-framed mech evenly, using his voice as much as his status to test the mech. "I am Optimus Prime. My guardian and military advisor, Ironhide, my personal physician, Ratchet and my Security Director, Red Alert. You would be Jazz. Please, sit. We have read what you sent. What can you add to it now?"

Jazz followed the introductions, offering nothing that could be interpreted as an intent to do harm, save for perhaps his gaze hovering on Ratchet a fraction of a second longer when the medic was introduced. "I'll stay standin', if it's all the same to ya. And as far as addin' goes, that would be dependin' on what ya wanna know."

Prime inclined his head in a nod. "I would like to know what your stake in this is," he rumbled softly. "What you hope to gain by bringing this to my attention."

Jazz hesitated, considering his answer. They were here to get Prowl out, out and safe, and when it came to the bottom line that was most important to Jazz. "I want him safe. I want to know that he is happy 'n free ta live life like any mech."

"You're takin' a pit of a risk, especially for a mech from Kaon," Ironhide rumbled, pressing. "What will you get outa it?"

"Ease up, Hide," Ratchet reached out to draw his old friend back. "He's telling the truth."

Prime considered the pair, looked at Jazz, and nodded. "What condition is Construct 5 in, when last you saw him?"

"If not fully fueled than close to it and ready to be outta there." Jazz responded, choosing to answer the Prime and ignore his bodyguard for the moment. He was not yet ready to admit the depth of the relationship between him and Prowl to 'bots he barely knew and certainly didn't trust yet.

"Where is he, and how secure is the area?" Red Alert went into planning mode.

"Station 6, in a secure,"Jazz's tone revealed his opinion of that term, "room, and not very. There are camera's everywhere, but there are already loops attached to the ones in his room and for two routes leading to his room."

The black and white mech turned his attention to Ratchet, wanting this detail incorporated into the planning from the start. "I'm guessin' they've at least got trackin' devices hidden in 'is frame, if not worse."

Ratchet grumbled, but nodded. "How long would I have in there to deal with the deadly stuff, worst case?"

"If ya go in at the beginnin' of his regular recharge, two joor fer sure. If ya can make it look like he's still there an' workin' after that, longer."

"Red Alert?" Ratchet looked at the Security Director.

"My mechs can manage that. I still don't like you going in," he rumbled unhappily.

"You're going to need me to clear him out," Ratchet said in a tone that brooked no arguments. "I will not loose two mechs because someone's afraid of my paint getting scratched."

"Two mechs?" Ironhide scowled at him.

"Construct 5 and his bondmate," Ratchet made a small nod towards Jazz.

The startled optics that landed on Jazz put him on the defensive immediately. "Fine. So I gotta real personal interest 'n makin' sure he makes it outta there. Happy now?"

Prime relaxed immediately, and Red Alert to a fair amount.

"Why didn't you say so?" Ironhide growled. "We'd've gotten 'im out with half the intel you sent."

Jazz just stared for a moment. How did you put into words what a lifetime of deception and deceit had taught you? Until now the only other one who had known about Prowl and considered him more than an artificially intelligent machine had been Suresweep, and even he did not know that the two of them had bonded.

Because up until now the only way to keep Prowl safe, to protect them both, had been to guard every secret as though the world would end if the secrets got out. And it was not a far stretch to say that Jazz and Prowl's worlds would have come to an end if anyone else had found out.

"To protect him." It was the only answer Jazz had, as laughable as it sounded in response to Ironhide's statement.

It sent an immediate chill through the mechs present.

"I understand," Optimus Prime spoke gently. "When would be the best time to begin the mission?"

"I'd like him along," Ratchet added with a nod towards Jazz. "I'm half surprised they manage to drag themselves apart with how new that bond is reading. It's not healthy."

"It'll make Construct 5 more compliant as well, I expect," Red Alert added quietly. He considered Jazz critically. "Please tell me you don't call him Construct 5 in private."

"Prowl." Jazz answered, the relief he felt causing his on edge frame to relax just the tiniest amount. "his name's Prowl. And I wouldn' let ya go without me anyway. The loops are operated with a remote. I can turn 'em on for ya."

Red Alert nodded, figuring that into his planning as Jazz moved on to Prime, checking his internal chronometer. "If ya can move fast his scheduled recharge starts 'n a joor. If not ya try for the next orn and I'll try to buy us more time, if needed."

"Is there a threat to him with the additional orn, beyond being a prisoner?" Prime focused on the smaller mech. "While I am sure we could move within the joor, it would allow a much better preparation to wait. I will give you my personal comm. If something happens, call me and I will walk in to claim him. No mech will challenge me, not that directly."

"Not if they want to continue functioning," Ironhide growled darkly, a harmonic Ratchet added to.

Jazz forced himself to remain still despite his agitation. This close to getting Prowl out the idea of having to wait was painful. But if waiting would make it a sure thing, he could do it. Especially if the Prime was willing to risk making that big of a scene. "Two orns n' I supposed to report on his condition again. There's talk of replacin' 'im, but he should be safe 'till then."

"Then we safely have thirty-two joor to prepare, to be there when his recharge cycle begins," Red Alert relaxed fractionally. "With that time I can call in the best of my teams and make sure the specialists are ready. Will you download all the security and schematics you have for the facility for me?" He extended a datachip towards Jazz.

"Include anything I should make sure to look at before we break him out," Ratchet added. "I'll do a full sweep for nasties. Knowing any ahead of time would make it go faster."

Ratchet took two cubes of off-shade energon from his subspace and slid them across the table towards Jazz. Two packets of additives followed. "One for you, one for him. Medical grade. The additives are to help with any issues being separated is causing. It'll help Prowl process his energon as well."

Jazz took the datachip first, working on filling it with everything they were asking for and whatever else he thought might help.

"A data specialist that can make it look like Prowl's still processin' all the downloads from his terminal will buy ya more time. As fer what's hidden on his frame-." He looked at Ratchet, the combined stress of worrying for Prowl and being away from his mate starting to visibly wear on him, "I got all the blocks removed, but the mech doin' it for me wouldn' look for anything else with a long range scan."

The energon and additives were quickly subspaced, the datachip left in their place. "I'll warn him yer comin'. And where should I be meetin' ya?"

Red Alert contemplated this. "If the loops are activated by remote he could trigger them from inside when signaled."

"Room's shielded," Jazz shook his head. "Even if it got through it'd be picked up."

"Then come here in thirty two joor," Red Alert said firmly. "The team will be here and ready to go."

Jazz nodded, starting to twitch. This was the longest he had been this far from Prowl since the two of them had bonded, always finding an excuse to be at least in the station proper during his shift, and walking out the front only to slip in the back when his work was done.

Ratchet noticed and made his own call on the matter. "Enough. You, get going before you fly apart."

Against his own will Jazz found himself looking to the Prime one more time, drawn to the mech for reasons he couldn't easily explain.

"Go to your bonded, Jazz," the great mech said gently and still managed to make it an order. "He will be free soon."

Chapter 15: Breaking in, Breaking out

Jazz let himself in this time, heading straight to the room where he had met the Prime the orn before. It was far quieter than before; the mark of there only being a handful of mechs there and they were ones used to the shadows.

Whatever had been in those additives that Ratchet had given him was helping too. Prowl was warned and waiting for them to come and Jazz didn't feel quiet as off-balanced at being so far from his bondmate.

He paused outside the door, looking around carefully, still wary of some sort of trap. He wanted to trust the Prime, but old habits were hard to overcome. Satisfied, he opened the door, freezing as all activity inside halted with his arrival.

Prime was there, quietly watching the activity from the sidelines as he relaxed against the wall. The two guards from the night before flanked him, not nearly as relaxed but not the tense of expecting trouble.

Red Alert was with a small group; Ratchet, a femme he recognized as a world-class B&E thief that went by Silver Shadow, a mostly black mech about the size of Ratchet that looked like he was probably the team's muscle, and a lithe deep green mech with dark maroon highlights that was no doubt in charge. They were going over schematics and doing final equipment checks.

"Ah, good, you're here," Red Alert greeted him, causing activity to resume.

Jazz nodded to him and to the Prime before heading over to join stand near the team gathered around Red Alert and listen.

"We know you, but do you know any of us?" the green and maroon mech asked, his optic band, colored to match his highlights, focused on Jazz.

Jazz nodded politely in the direction of the silver femme, "Her, by reputation if nothin' else. But not you or yer teammate over there."

"I'm Snapshot," the leader introduced himself. "While you're nominally in charge of this mission, the team is under my command. Barricade is our muscle. When things go wrong, his job is to keep enemies at enough distance for Silver Shadow and myself to shoot until Shadow's bondmate can get us out. She's a teleporter. Anything to add to the data you gave Red Alert?"

Jazz followed the introductions, matching faces with designations in his processor before turning his attention to Snapshot. "No. It should be quiet, and he's expectin' us."

"Good," the lithe mech nodded then motioned towards the back door. "Let's go."

Jazz fell easily into step with them, habits and skills buried underneath the role he had been playing rising to the surface once more as his focus centered on a single task- freeing his bondmate - and finding himself with those who approved of those skills.

True to the nature of a top-notch team, and showing off how often Ratchet must train to go with such teams, the five mechs slipped into Praxus Enforcer Station Six without raising a single alarm. While Jazz knew that his knowledge and existing hacks made it go smoother, he had no doubts that they'd be in without a hitch even without him.

This was a test of his word as much as it was a rescue mission.

The door slid open to Prowl's room at Jazz's long-standing hack, revealing the black and white mech standing at full, formal attention, his optics dim, just as he always did until Jazz told him specifically that it was okay.

Ratchet's growl behind Jazz was all any of them needed to know the royal physician's opinion of what he was looking at.

Jazz twitched in agreement as he crossed the room to Prowl. He had not missed the small bit of fear that had wormed its way across the bond from his mate at their arrival, and the wariness still emanating from him at the strangers entering the room behind him despite his knowledge of the plan.

"It's all right, love." Jazz assured him, pulling the mech from stiff attention into his arms and speaking loud enough for all present to hear. He continued to hold Prowl, calm, as the rest of the team spread into the room. It didn't take much for Prowl to melt into the embrace, his spark settling at Jazz's presence.

Silver Shadow headed straight for the work terminal, already working as Barricade positioned himself beside the door.

The kiss Prowl insisted on claiming before Ratchet separated him, by however small a distance, didn't go unnoticed. Jazz couldn't help the small surprise he felt that it was either ignored, or in Snapshot and Silver Shadow's case, earned them a smile.

"I'll be as quick about this as I can, but you are not leaving this room until I'm sure they can't deactivate you at a distance," Ratchet said firmly as he directed Prowl to lay on his back on the berth. "."

"System as expected," Silver Shadow said to the room in general. "We should have all the time we need in half a breem."

Ratchet grunted an acknowledgement but offered nothing more as he began to work on the less-intimately attached nasties in Prowl's frame.

Jazz moved to settle by Prowl's head, attempting to be out of the way while giving into the urge to hover by his mate as the medic worked. It didn't stop him from flinching every time the medic found something.

Ratchet's grumblings grew louder with as he found one tracking device and then another, both of them close to the surface, though small and very advanced.

"Worse than that group we got from Quell?" Snapshot asked, referencing a slave trade case his team had worked with the medic, when a third device, this one intended to disable without damaging, was removed to join the pile.

"Yes." Ratchet snapped as he systematically worked his way deeper into Prowl's systems, determined to miss nothing. "Those were rather crude and he was predictable. Same place every time according to frame type, and the devices meant to be removed and reused. These-."

He swore as he removed a relay disruptor from a sensitive and vital junction essential to Prowl's motor control. "If I didn't know any better I'd have said someone was being malicious when they installed these."

Jazz resisted the urge to tell the medic to make sure he got them all. Somewhere in the silver mech's processor he knew that Ratchet was the best- the medic wouldn't be personal physician to the Prime if he wasn't- but it wasn't his bondmate he was working on either.

"All right, Prowl, I need to access your spark chamber area now," Ratchet's voice was gentle, understanding just what he was asking of the mech he'd been dissecting for the last three joor. "Then inside your helm, then your code. Then we're getting out of here and you'll have the proper amount of time to bond with Jazz."

As Prowl got himself gathered enough to open the armor plates directly over his spark, Ratchet spared Jazz a glance. "I'll get everything. Right now, you're doing the best thing for him by staying out of my way and keeping physical contact with him."

Jazz nodded, taking that as an invitation to scoot even closer to Prowl as Ratchet waited patiently for the last of the protective armor to retract. He reached down to stroke Prowl's facing, focusing on his bonded's optics in an attempt to ignore how close the medic was to Prowl's spark chamber.

Just because he knew it was necessary didn't make it easy to accept.

An explosive burst of cursing that would have done the most hardened grunt proud came from Ratchet and new tools were formed from his hands. He bent over Prowl's chest and went to work, his verbal massacring of a dozen dialects continuing to flow.

It wasn't lost on Jazz or Prowl that the angrier Ratchet got the more nervous the others got.

Prowl fought to hold still, wanting to reach up and hold Jazz but afraid to move since something had set the medic off. Sensing Prowl's discomfort and the growing tension in the room Jazz forced himself to stay clam, or at least bury the agitation he felt as well.

Without a word Ratchet caught Prowl's wrist in a light grip and moved it to Jazz's lap.

"I'm not angry with you, youngling," Ratchet's voice turned gentle for the moment he was addressing his patient. "None of this is your fault."

Prowl calmed a bit, grateful to be able to grip Jazz's hand and both mechs calming a bit as Ratchet went back to work.

Finally the device was removed and set aside much more carefully then the simple tracking devices. "Right, you can close that up. And now you," Ratchet addressed Jazz specifically, "are going to have move for me. I need to check his processor and it will be easier with you out the way."

"Right," Jazz murmured and stood. He fought down a whine at being separated, even by only a pace. When Ratchet settled he motioned Jazz to find a new spot and Jazz quickly folded himself onto the berth by Prowl, holding the mech's hand while running his free hand over the armor that once more shielded his bonded's spark from the rest of the world.

As soon as he was sure they were settled Ratchet started to work on Prowl's processor, accessing the area carefully. After what he had found next to mech's spark he wasn't going to take any chances. As he worked he made small notes to himself. If he had anything to do with it, someone was going to pay for this crime. Prowl would also be spending more than a few orns in surgery to finish fixing things so he could have a normal functioning.

Another round of explosive curses came from Ratchet, his focus sharpened as he found a processor-melting booby trap nearly dead center in Prowl's helm. It was definitely built into his original specs from the location and intended never to come out of the functioning mech.

The medic paused, examining the device from several angles and considering his options. It would be much easier to simply try and disarm it for now, then remove it later under better conditions. But leaving anything inside the mech, armed or not, was taking the risk that it could still go off.

"Snapshot, Jazz, Prowl," he looked up, making sure he had everyone's undivided attention. "There is a thermite bomb in Prowl's cortex. I can disarm it in about two breems. Removal, here, will take at least three joor. The risk of it going off disarmed are minimal, but there."

"A kilk." Jazz murmured, continuing to run his hand soothingly over Prowl's plating, reaching out across the bond rather than looking up where his mates helm was laid open. ~It's your call love. Both ways a risk.~

From where Jazz was sitting it made more sense to have the medic disarm it and remove it later, where it was safe. The longer they hung around, despite all of their precautions, the higher the chance that they would be discovered. And trying to escape with Prowl incapacitated because the bomb was only half removed seemed a nightmare to him.

All the same, it wasn't in his head.

"How minimal?" Prowl focused his optics on Ratchet.

The physician stared at him for a moment, then seemed to remember what he was talking to, as well as who. He vented deeply. "With the assumption that I understand it as well as I think I do, very minimal. I don't have numbers."

"Three joor are a real risk," Snapshot added. "We've already been here too long and you haven't touched his programming."

"Disable it then," Prowl decided, fear evident only in the way he gripped Jazz's hand a bit tighter.

Ratchet nodded and went to work.

Even though a check of his chonometer informed him it was all illusion, the time it took for Ratchet to disarm the bomb stretched on forever for Jazz. Only when he heard the sound of necessary components being replaced did he start to relax, finally looking up at the medic. "I need to move again?"

"You can stay there. It's just software checks now," Ratchet said with an x-vent of relief and drew a cable from his arm. "Ready?" he looked directly at Prowl, who nodded and opened the medical port at the base of his neck.

Ratchet moved carefully, plugging in and syncing up with Prowls operating systems, some of his attention momentarily diverted to making sure that neither Prowl nor his mate reacted negatively to the intrusion. Even under good conditions medical systems invasions were stressful, and these conditions were far from ideal.

As soon as it seemed all was clear he started working through the code, growling softly as he removed, neutralized, or redirected one nasty bit of code after another. Evidence of the blocks still remained that would have to be cleaned up as well, but the small fragments were harmless enough, if a bit messy. Finally he disconnected.

"Done. For now." He pulled a cube of thick energon from his subspace and handed it to Prowl. "Drink."

He obeyed without question, finishing it as quickly as he dared.

"Ready to get out of here for good?" Ratchet smiled at his patient.

"Yes," Prowl answered, pulling Jazz down for a brief kiss to settle them both before scooting off the narrow berth for hopefully the last time.

"All loops still in place," Silver Shadow spoke up.

Snapshot nodded. "Move it then," he motioned to the door as the group went silent.

Chapter 16: Iacon Nights

"Here." Ironhide lead the way into a room, simply furnished but probably a welcome sight to the pair following him. "It's yers for now, at least. It's clean, Red checked it out an' Ratchet would have his plating if he left anything behind. Ya need anything else?"

Jazz surveyed the room. "Nah, we're good mech."

"I'll be leavin' ya then. Ratchet said he gave ya his comm code, and ya better be using it if ya need him. He doesn't like seein' his handwork messed up jus' because of stubbornness." With that the large red mech left, closing the door behind him and pausing just long enough to make sure the lock engaged. Those two younglings deserved some time after what they had been through.

The lock had barely engaged when Prowl turned to Jazz with a lustful grin and pulled him close, hands running over plating. "Shall we test the berth, love?"

Jazz shivered, leaning into the touch even as he addressed Prowl seriously. "The doc said ya needed to rest."

"He also said we needed to get reacquainted," Prowl purred, his engine rumbling as he claimed a kiss. "We haven't more than snuggled in nearly eight orns."

"Recharge afterward. A nice, long one." When Prowl put it that way, after the stress of separation and getting him out of there, now that he was finally safe, Jazz wanted nothing more to confirm that Prowl was really there with him. "Let's test it out."

A slow, warm smile crossed Prowl's features as he leaned in for another kiss, pulling an unresisting Jazz towards the double-wide berth. "Spark-merge?" he whispered, hopeful but trying to control just how much he wanted it, far more than the physical pleasure.

"I was hopin' that's what ya were thinkin'." Jazz whispered, wanting it just as much as they settled on the berth and simply enjoyed touching for a few kliks before Prowl settled back, his doorwings splayed on the soft, supportive mattress.

Just the feel of that quality was enough to drag a low moan from Prowl's chassis and bring a smile to Jazz's lips before he leaned in to claim another kiss. This was what his mate deserved- love, comfort and safety.

And Prowl deserved pleasure.

He kiss a line of fire down Prowl's throat, his hands making the younger mech arch into him and moan shamelessly. Even with the touch, Prowl had no patience to wait for his frame to catch up to his processors and he slid his chest plates open.

Jazz laughed softly. He was going to have to teach Prowl about slow. About savoring the pleasure he could feel and drawing it out. But the sight and feel of that spark was too much for Jazz to resist this time.

If the mechs who had rescued Prowl were true to their words he would have plenty of time to teach Prowl about the finger points of enjoying his existence. For now, he was just deeply grateful to have that spark exposed to his, and his chest plates answered in kind. The merge happened fast, deepened almost explosively.

Prowl was in no state to hold back, and had no inclination to claim less than everything even as he gave everything in return.

Nor was Jazz in any condition to deny himself or his bonded either, falling into the merge willingly, giving and claiming what was his, now and forever.

Chapter 17: Meeting Prime

"Do you know what the Prime intends for us?" Prowl asked his bonded nervously as they walked through the palace in Iacon on their way for a meeting with the leader of their world and empire; a mech neither ever expected to see in person, much less speak to. Despite the turmoil and fear in his spark, Prowl showed nothing beyond a faint twitch of his doorwings. He walked as if he owned the world, but in a way where it was simple fact, not a thing he was proud of.

"No idea love. I doubt he'd put that much work inta ya to toss ya out again, but-." Jazz took pride in his mate, since he had little for himself at the moment. His goals accomplished- Prowl was now free from the Praxians grasp and completely cleared by Ratchet- he didn't know what to do.

Prowl had a clean slate behind him, even if his abilities had been twisted to planning things less than legal on occasion. No one would hold that against him. Jazz, on the other hand, had a record that was more black than checkered with crimes committed in full possession of his own conscious.

Crimes that his bondmate accepted without hesitation but the rest of the world was likely to view far less favorably.

The guards at the door to the Prime's office allowed them in without a word, and within the grand space the equally grand mech managed to look just a bit out of place. It wasn't anything Jazz could put his finger on, but something in Prime wasn't entirely comfortable here.

"Jazz, Prowl," Optimus Prime greeted them from behind a huge desk as he stood. "Please sit," he motioned to a smaller alcove meant for more intimate and less formal discussions.

For just a moment Jazz balked, the small space going against his sense of what was right and safe, especially with Prowl present. He studied the Prime sharply, suspiciously, and for his part the large mech did nothing, waiting until Jazz reached a decision.

That decision came in the form of a light touch from a white hand and sub-voc hum of reassurance. While Prowl didn't mean to be loud enough for Prime to hear, he wasn't hiding his comment of 'it's Prime/trust' either.

Jazz vented softly, giving in to his mate and his own sense of 'trust'. It had been vorns since he had felt the urge to actually trust anyone he hadn't spent an extended time studying, and it was the deviation that was setting all of his senses to high alert. The fact that it was rumored that this was normal, something he should be feeling, was also bothersome.

Prime wisely allowed the two mechs to settle before joining them, actions and optics calm and open. He wanted this to go well for everyone involved.

"I would begin with the fallout for Praxus, if you are interested," Prime spoke, his voice a low, soothing timbre. Using the power of his nature as Prime to sooth the pair as much as he dared.

Prowl's attention was instant, if not very noticeable. The flick of his doorwings and the small shiver that ran through him at the mention of the place that had been his own personal pit would have escaped the notice of anyone not looking for them.

Far more obvious was the comforting and possessive hand of Prowl's mate that came to rest on his arm as Jazz spoke. "Seems as good a place to start as any, to me."

"Sub-Chief Detail, Chief Snaplock and Lord Swiftcall have been brought up on charges of slavery, abuse of subordinates, abuse of the pre-programmed mech program and obstruction of justice. While I have no doubt that the order came from Lord Crossways, if not Lord Streetwise himself, there is no proof that my agents can find. I have restricted Praxian access to non-sparkling sparkings and instituted much stronger oversight. It is a patch, but it is the best I can do at the moment."

"It is far more than I ever expected. What of Suresweep?" Prowl asked, his voice uneasy.

"He agreed to testify against his superiors," Prime x-vented softly. "He will never be able to return to Praxus. He has a new designation, a new look and a new home."

The mech calmed at the news, content with the outcome. Jazz had to admit that he was in agreement with his mate- while it was less then he would have liked it was far more than he had expected. The fact that Suresweep had been saved from the worst of the fallout, even if the mech had to forfeit the life that he had known, was also a comfort.

"So ya got Praxus dealt with. What does that mean for us, then?"

Prime focused on the pair. "You are both free mechs. The crimes committed against Prowl justify nullifying the remainder of his contract. I have made the arrangements so that Jazz will face no charges for what crimes he may have committed while in Praxus. I strongly recommend that neither of you return to that city. I would like to offer you both positions on my staff for the next few vorns as a precaution against reprisal. However, I am fully aware that you have the skills and contacts to hide if you prefer, Jazz."

Jazz stared at the Prime as his processor worked through all of that. That Prowl's contract was now done away with was one thing he no longer had to worry about, and the pardon for the crimes he had technically committed in Praxus he had expected as well.

He had no plans to return to Praxus, and no intention of taking Prowl to Kaon either. It would serve Prowl well to work for the Prime for a while, giving him a purpose and a chance to learn about how the world worked while in a sense being shielded from it.

"Didn' want to before, rather not try now." He commented softly, somewhat to the mech seated across from them and more to his mate seated beside him. ~Prowl?~

~I like it here,~ Prowl looked at his bonded, glanced at Prime, then focused fully on Jazz. What concerned the young mech was less easily put into words, but Jazz recognized the sensations well enough.

~You don't know what you'd do,~ Jazz supplied the explanation.

~I don't want to ... be useless?~ Prowl wasn't sure if he'd chosen the right words, but Jazz nodded.

~You were created to work,~ Jazz said gently. ~It'd be cruel to not give ya a job. And I do think that is what he's offerin' ya.~ No, what was more in question was what Jazz would be good for, besides taking care of his bonded. And since this matter concerned his bonded.

"Ya mentioned positions. Care to share what you had in mind?"

Prime smiled behind his mask. "Prowl is a gifted tactician, even for a mech built for the duty. He would be a significant asset in my efforts to prevent the war." He shifted his gaze to Jazz. "You have many talents, and while your best use would no doubt be in Ops, that involves a great deal of time away, which I am sure neither of you would agree to. Assisting in planning those missions would keep you here. I am open to requests as well."

~There ya have it love. He's got something for you to do.~ Jazz commented, exploring the new options thoughtfully as the Prime waited.

~Something I should be good at,~ he replied with a swirl of excitement. Something he would be good at, and this time working voluntarily for someone he wanted to help.

~That's a yes then?~ Jazz asked, seeking confirmation as the excitement from Prowl bled over the bond.

~If you will be happy here as well,~ Prowl nodded, his optics on Jazz.

Jazz stopped to actually think about this for a minute. The truth was he would be happy anywhere he was with Prowl. ~I'll be happy if you are. Ya know everything,~ He knew Jazz inside and out, the history and the crime and the possible ramifications, ~This is a chance and I'll take if you will.~

A small smile crossed Prowl's features and he leaned over to claim his mate's mouth. ~I will. The future is ours to make. I would begin here.~

"We accept." Jazz said when he finally managed to pull back from Prowl. Even with all the time they had been given it still didn't seem like enough to get things settled between them. It probably didn't help matters that Jazz was not inclined to curb his bonded's public displays of affection.

"Then I will begin to make arrangements," Prime's smile was audible as he stood. "You are welcome to remain here, return to your quarters or explore the city as you will."

Chapter 18

Prowl drew Jazz into a kiss, his entire frame trembling with barely controlled desire as the door to their quarters locked behind them.

"Do you know what Ratchet gave us for a bonding gift?" Prowl's whisper against Jazz's mouth was husky and rolling with anticipation.

Jazz nodded and shivered at the promise is in lover's tone. He tipped his helm back, offering his throat to that so-talented mouth. He wasn't going to speak until he was sure Prowl was finished.

"I want to feel you push me down on the berth so my arms carry both our weight, leaving your hands free. Your hands on my doorwings, your heat against my back as you tease my valve with the tip of your spike, taking your time even though I'm more than ready. Every tiny motion makes you sink just a little deeper until I can't stand it and thrust my hips back, taking you fully inside myself," Prowl trembled in his arousal as he caught a short, sweet kiss and shifted to slide his glossa up Jazz's audio horn.

"The heat, the pleasure, your strength as you tumble over the edge, spilling your transfluid inside me for the first time," Prowl didn't hide the way his voice trembled in anticipation.

"Then ... then you are laid out beneath me, your legs spread and your visor dark with desire, watching as I slide inside you, feeling it for myself for the first time," Prowl moaned deeply, struggling to get through the descriptions as his mouth and hands wandered Jazz's frame. "Our fingers entwine as you guide my thrusts, integrating the new protocols with experience.

"As good as my spike feels, it's always your face that draws the most from me. The way you look when you're in pleasure, when it's my touch, it's more intoxicating than high grade," Prowl whispered as if confessing. "Sometimes I barely feel what's happening to me when I'm watching you overload. The sounds you make," his voice gave out briefly.

Prowl struggled for a moment, his vents pumping out scalding hot air in a vain effort to cool his internals. "It makes my spark flare, hot and demanding, and all I can think of is how incredible it is that I can draw that out of you. I've never controlled anything in my functioning," he moved around to face his lover once more and kissed him with all the fierce passion that was in his spark, their bond flung wide open, hiding nothing. "And in you, the thing I control the most I do because I want to please you." He dimmed his optics and drew back a fraction. "It feels so good to make you feel good."

Jazz shivered at the words, at the actions, at the feelings all of the suggestions and images added together created. He caught Prowl in an equally passionate but gentler kiss, spark flaring in his chest with desire. Prowl was the center of his world, the entire reason for his functioning now. He would deny the mech nothing that would make him happy.

He had never imagined that one orn his world would revolve around one spark so completely. Prowl's need for him that he could sense so clearly scared him. His need for that spark so close but hidden away from his own at the moment frightened him. "Want you to feel good." He whispered. "Any time. Every time. I am yours."