Title: Stereo Hearts

Chapter: 4

Author: SomethingIDontknow

Rating: M (For Master complexes, rape, abuse, psychological issue and perhaps some language.)

Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers, that's Mr. Michael Bay's. And Hasbro's. Luckies.

Author's Note: Dear sweet Primus. I would apologize, but there's no point now. As it stands, this is a chapter, and I do have more written. I just kind of… reconnected with this fic and after rereading all of your reviews (which I keep on hand in my journal as a morale booster) I knew I needed to continue. Thank you so much, all of you, your reviews are honestly the only reason I keep trying sometimes. Much Love, GT.

"Jazz, Primus that was fast! Not that I'm complaining!" Blaster voice was bright and Jazz melted a little. No one was ever that happy to hear from him.

"Prowl said I was looking a little off so he sent me to the clinic for a check up. Ratchet said he'd send him a clean bill of health." Ratchet had also said he believed Jazz was a little stunted from poor fueling, his joints needed better care or they wouldn't support him well when he got older, and that Prowl was a "Pit spawned glitch" of a Master but he was the city's Chief Enforcer so there was likely little he could do to help.

Blaster laughed lightly. "Well what'daya know, maybe things are looking up for us yet." He said, rustling something, "I expect he was nice to you? Ratchet's a good mech, but he can be a little quick with the wrench."

Jazz began walking toward the nearest general store, mentally reviewing the things he needed at home. "Of course, though his... well... there were two brothers in his office when I got there." He was warming with embarrassment again just at the memory. "They were... kissing. And I kinda got them smacked and sent home."

It took a minute for Blaster to stop laughing.

"It's not funny, Blaster!" Jazz whined, snagging a hand basket at the door before making his way though the shop's isles, "It was awkward!"

"If Ratchet's not bothered by being caught 'facing his twin hellions, he won't be bothered about being caught making out." Blaster was still out of breath and the grin hadn't left his tone.

"Thank you, so much, for that visual." Jazz said dryly, examining a label before dropping a container in his basket.

"Well, I'm glad you got on so well with Ratchet, he's one of my oldest friends." Blaster said, finally getting himself under control, "Anyway, how's you? That 'Forcer been treatin'' you right?"

"He's out of town now, some Enforcer business in Vos. So I've got a load of chores to see to while he's gone." Jazz explained, swinging his basket morosely.

"Out of the city? Well damn, you should drop by, we could have a cube, chat some more. I really wanna see ya again."

The soft, wistful tone of Blaster's voice had Jazz freezing with a bottle of solvent at his fingertips. He took a moment to consider it, spacing out even as he fantasized.

Spending the next few days with Blaster, spending hours talking together, maybe getting a decent meal or two. They could get to know each other so much better, they might fall into recharge together on a couch. He might wake up in Blaster's arms…

"I cant." Jazz said softly, sadness lacing his voice as he continued to gaze over bottles of cleanser, "He'll be calling in soon to check up on me. And if I don't answer the vid comm at the house, he'll come right back and beat me to within an nanometer of my life. He could comm at any time after that. I would love nothing more in the universe than to be with you, but I just cant."

"Oh." Blaster was silent a moment. Then, "Well, then I'll visit you!"

"W-what!?" Jazz cried, startling the mech standing beside him in the aisle.

"Well why not? He's not in town, I can keep outta the room while he calls ya. We'd still get ta hang out, I'd even bring some energon for the both of us. C'mon, you cant say it's an unappealing idea!"

"Well no," Jazz murmured, "But Blaster… what if he comes home? We'd both be dead."

"I can take care of myself, Jazzy." Blaster was speaking softly now, "Please don't worry about me."

If he finds out, we're both dead. "Blaster, seriously, I don't think-"

"How about this, have your afternoon, chat him up tonight. I can stop by tomorrow. Just for a few hours." Jazz could hear the grin in his voice, "And if it takes a little longer… well…"

Jazz thought about it a long moment. It was dangerous. But surely... surely he deserved it. It could be okay. It would be. They would be careful and thorough and everything would be okay. Finally, he laughed, a little forced, a little desperate, "If you're sure, Blaster. Tomorrow then?"

"I'll see you there, mech."

The vid comm with Prowl that night went as well as Jazz could have hoped. He took a seat on the center cushion of the living room's couch, and waited for the vid screen connection to clear up. The Praxian drilled him on which chores he had managed to finish and how much his shopping trip had cost. Jazz answered honestly, keen on looking the perfect angel. Maybe then Prowl wouldn't call too much, or not at all. It had been going well, no sudden questions, wrong answers, and suddenly, Jazz knew something was wrong. There was a gleam in his optics that spelled the beginning of something terribly unfortunate."Well done, Jazz." Prowl praised, "You've proven yourself capable."

"Thank you, Sir." Jazz murmured, just loud enough to be heard. He waited, breath baited. Something was going wrong. Would any moment. Prowl's optics had that gleam, the one that meant he was about to shatter something Jazz loved. "These Vosnians, Seekers mostly, they've got some interesting takes on interfacing." His smile made Jazz's tanks lurch, "Expect some new games when I return." "I- I-" Jazz stammered, scared and suddenly dreading the countdown to Prowl's return, "Y-yes, sir."

Jazz cried himself to sleep that night.

The next morning, acid rain poured down. If Blaster's got any sense, he'll stay home. Jazz thought as he washed the entryway floor, scrubbing scrapes that would need polishing. The was an elaborate knock on the kitchen door, vibrating though the whole, empty house.

But of course, he hasn't got any sense.

Wiping his hands on the apron he wore when he washed, Jazz left the bucket, going to answer. Blaster had pressed himself up against the door, doing his best to keep the pouring rain off his frame. "Get in here, Blaster! Before you melt your paint off." Jazz crowed him in, turning to root around in the cabinets for a towel. "How did this seem like a good idea?' Jazz asked, coming out with a blue rag, starting to dry off Blaster's arm before he took the rag himself.

"I had transport." Blaster justified, "I was fine."

"Well I'm afraid it was for nothing." Jazz stepped back, crossing his arms uncomfortably, "I still have a lot of chores." He looked aside. "Sorry to waste your time."

Blaster leaned in and turned his helm back. "Jazz, 's not a problem. I came to be with you, how we get that time together don't matter to me." He smiled, soft and sweet and Jazz was painfully reminded of the old Prowl, the one that had brought him treats and read to him in the evenings.

He shook his helm, pushing away the thought. "That means a lot." Jazz's smile was dim. Blaster thumbed away the tears that Jazz hadn't realized were escaping.

"How could anyone have stood to hurt you so bad?" Blaster whispered, pulling Jazz in close, tucking his helm under his chin. Jazz shuddered, sobbing lightly. Blaster's arms wrapped tight around him and Jazz curled into him. "It's alright, Jazzy. It's alright." Blaster eased them to the floor and they cuddled close, silent but for Jazz's soft crying.

"I'm sorry." Jazz's whimper was broken.

"You've got nothin' to be sorry for, sweetspark. You ain't done a thing wrong." Blaster leaned back to tip Jazz's face back. "What are you sayin' sorry for?"

Jazz's intakes hiccupped and he sniffled. "I- Blaster, I'm-" It felt like something had come loose in his chest, something heavy had fallen away and he was babbling, "I'm broken and used and dirty and no one's every given a damn about me but you and there's nothing I can give you in return. I don't deserve you."

"Oh, Jazzy." Blaster looked shattered a moment before he was taking Jazz by the chin and tipping his helm back for a devouring kiss. Jazz whimpered, sliding his arms up and around Blaster's neck before melting into it. He didn't push, but when they parted, Jazz was left gazing up at him, mouth open. Blaster took a shaking breath, gazing down at Jazz with a jumble of emotions conflicting in his face. "Jazz, you're beautiful. The sweetest mech I've ever known. You're caught in a bad situation, something I don't think I could survive, and you've come out of it kind and caring and willing to put faith in a mech like me. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me. And knowing that you feel like that... baby, it kills me." Blaster's optics were soft and beginning to shine with coolant as he took Jazz's face in his hands, giving him a tiny shake as he continued, voice edging into desperation. "Jazz, I need you do promise me something. I need you to promise me you'll fight. Fight everything in you that says you're not good enough. I will be here, right here, Jazzy, and no matter how many times it takes, I'll tell you: You are not alone. You're worth it. You are good and brilliant and Jazz, I love you."

"I- Blaster- I"

"I don't need an answer now."

"I promise." Coolant was streaming down his faceplates, but Jazz looked up at Blaster and he found hope. Blaster wouldn't lie to him. Wouldn't say those things if they weren't true. He just had to convince himself. "I promise you, Blaster."

"You have to do this for yourself, Jazz. This is a promise to yourself too." Red fingers brushed over Jazz's cheekplates, sliding down the seam there.

"I know. I don't want to live like this forever." He leaned into those gentle hands and Blaster kissed his visor. "I want to be okay."

Blaster pulled him close and Jazz curled up in his lap, resting his helm on a broad red shoulder. Rain pattered against the kitchen window in the quiet. The light that managed to break through was gray and gloomy, casting dappled patters across the tile floor. Shadows flickered across a pair of frames tangled together on the ground. It was a dark and hopeless image. And somehow, Jazz had never felt so good. He knew he was facing a mountain, but Blaster's arms tightened briefly around him and something brave and strong, something from the old days, before Prowl or his old Master or training in a basement cell or even being stolen away from his family, swelled inside him. He could do it.

He would be free.