TRANSFORMERS: "CAN'T SAY NO"
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While staring up into the blue sky during the Decepticon attack, broken and torn inside and out, Jazz had almost come to terms with the thought of getting deactivated on that piece of hard ground dug through by the hail of bullets┘
But Prowl had come for him. He▓d literally placed himself between Jazz and his demise that day┘
What a stupid mech. He should have left and saved himself, but he▓d chosen to stay with him┘
Jazz could deal with anything but that burning flame of guilt that would never let him rest, dead or alive. ▒I▓m sorry┘ I▓m so sorry,▓ he▓d kept sobbing, clutching at the tactician. He was so fragging sorry. For everything. For the crazy twisted fate that gave him the only chance for such a pitiful repentance when the indifferent beeps of a cryo-bomb were counting the last clicks of their lives┘
And Prowl had answered with a kiss.
It had been both wonderful, and horrible.
Wonderful, because it was something Jazz had thought he▓d never experience again with the mech he wanted more than anything else in the world; because it had been Prowl who▓d started it; because it was speaking louder than any words could; because it was more powerful than a condescending ▒I forgive you▓.
Horrible, because behind it stood something that was stronger than Prowl▓s will, something that made the tactician do things he might not have wanted at all; because it was the first and probably the last real thing he▓d ever be able to share with the mech he loved.
That last click had seemed like an eternity. Their lips had parted, and suddenly, with processor-numbing terror, he▓d realized that Prowl was shielding him, protecting his head with both white palms, pressing as close to him as he could┘ And he had been paralyzed then; he couldn▓t move, couldn▓t make a sound √ he could only lay there in immobile, mute shock with his face tucked into Prowl▓s neck, as the bomb went off with a soft, deceptively gentle flick.
He remembered the pain.
The liquid nitrogen cloud had covered the two of them like a deadly suffocating blanket, pulling them into its agony-filled embrace. The only safe area was the ground he▓d laid on, but his sides, his bullet-pierced arms and legs got burned with the freezing cold. But the strongest pain that he▓d been feeling √ the pain of helpless anguish and remorse √ had been in his spark, because Prowl had taken the worst of it┘
And he remembered the wetness.
Those had been his and Prowl▓s fluids, the testament of the damage they both had taken. During that torturous breem right after the blast, while Prowl▓s unresponsive body was lying on top of him, leaking its life-essence, while Jazz▓s sensors were still trying to fight the warnings and prevent his CPU from shutting down, his comm. link had burst with the shouts of his teammates. The help was near. With the last prayer on his unmoving lips for Prowl to stay functional, he▓d off-lined┘
Now, staring up into the metal ceiling of the Ark▓s med bay, with his limbs repaired and armor replaced, he felt more broken than ever. His body was whole and in working order again, but the pain remained.
Why▓d you do it, Prowl?
Ratchet had told him the death rate among those who get in the direct line of a cryo-blast; one hundred percent. He▓d added some scientific babbling about the cause of it and such, but Jazz wasn▓t listening anymore.
One hundred percent┘
Several days after the explosion, the medical team was still working on Prowl. Jazz was allowed to leave his berth for a little while and take a look at him through the glass window of the operational room.
The still form of the tactician on the construction table was almost unrecognizable. Nearly eighty percent of his body was a misshaped mass of wires and metal. Prowl should have been dead by now, but life was still glowing in his deformed chest by some miracle.
Jazz could see Wheeljack entering the room, rolling a container with new parts to replace what was beyond repairs or missing completely. But really, what was the use of it if Prowl had only one spark in the whole Universe, and it was barely gleaming┘?
The saboteur stood there silently, until Ratchet pulled a rank and ordered him to vanish and rest.
He▓d been told that it would take a lot of efforts and faith to bring the tactician online √ if he was ever going to come online at all.
Jazz could only keep praying, because he had nothing left to offer in the faith department.
They say some mechs have ⌠dreams■ and ⌠nightmares■┘
Prowl had never believed it. He▓d never had one. It had always been a nano-click of empty oblivion, unencumbered with any kind of information, that separated the end of one day from the start of another.
They also say there is always the first time for everything┘
His battered CPU had been constantly going through the failing reboot sequence, the usual procedure derailing each time and ending with a rush of mixed up data bits surfacing randomly in his memory banks in a hung background mode. The laughter of his creator giving him a ride on his back as a sparkling; the number ▒30▓ on a small display beeping into ▒29▓; the meteorite shower slashing at the night sky over the city of Praxus; someone▓s flaming lips against his┘ Scraps and fragments that once used to make sense, colliding and overlaying. And all of it had been laced with signals of pain, pain, pain┘
Until this very minute, when he was finally able to process what was happening to him, he didn▓t know what a nightmare was. Now he knew, because if this wasn▓t one, he had no idea what was.
⌠Morning, Prowl. You are more than welcome to join our humble community of the living,■ he heard Ratchet▓s sarcastic voice to his right. The medic sounded tired. He was probably low on his energon, too, as usual.
Prowl on lined his optics, knowing already that he was in the Ark▓s med bay. Ratchet was sitting near his berth, his optics dimmed, which suggested he was preserving his energy, which in turn meant he hadn▓t recharged in days.
Was it that bad┘? Yes, it was.
Prowl▓s logical module told him he shouldn▓t be online, because the correlation of probabilities assumed that the possibility of it equaled approximately-
⌠Jazz┘■ he rasped weakly.
⌠Functional. And already out of intensive care. Thanks to you,■ was the curt reply.
Something relaxed inside of Prowl, decreasing the hum of pain to the feeling of leaden tiredness. Come what may, he did what he had to. Jazz would live┘ Which left one more question unanswered.
⌠┘Myself?■
Ratchet sighed heavily, his stare boring through the tactician. ⌠I never thought I▓d ever say this, Prowl, but your stupidity saved your life.■
Prowl kept silent, not knowing what to say and, frankly, too weak to care, and the medic continued in a calm, almost detached voice.
⌠When the bomb went off, the pneumatically sprayed cloud of sub-zero liquid nitrogen was supposed to freeze and break your armor, then get to your spark and evaporate it, in under a click┘ Your spark survived,■ he made a weighty pause. ⌠For whatever reason, in the moment of the blast it had been emanating far more heat than would be normal under any kind of circumstances.■ The medic crossed his arms on his chest skeptically. ⌠We wouldn▓t be talking right now if it wasn▓t for the energy circulation anomaly you failed to mention when we were leaving Cybertron for Earth.■
Prowl offlined his optics. He was so fragged┘ It would have probably been better if he hadn▓t survived┘
⌠Now, don▓t blow your circuits. I▓m not here to harass you about the issue,■ Ratchet calmly noted. ⌠I▓m here to make a point. From now on, you are to report any glitches in your systems to me immediately. Prime needs his tactician in best shape at all times┘ And don▓t scare us all like that again,■ he added softly, with a friendly concern.
Prowl finally found strength to bring his optics back online and lock gazes with Ratchet. He didn▓t see any condemnation there, like he had been expecting. ⌠Aye sir,■ he whispered with a somewhat relieved resignation.
⌠Now rest, you▓ve lost a lot of energy. When you wake up you▓ll feel better,■ Ratchet stood from the chair heavily and headed for the door. ⌠And, by the way, Prowl,■ the medic stopped in the doorway and half-turned to him with a small smile. ⌠The blast killed the glitch. You▓re clean.■