Chapter Text
He was so exhausted, but unlike the last time he returned to base from a mission, Jazz had actually taken care of himself during his time in Kaon. It wouldn’t pass the bar for what most well-balanced mechs would call “self-care,” but for him, it was enough to stop any hallucinations. From where he started, Jazz was proud of himself for accomplishing that much.
While previously Jazz had met Hookwise in his office when he was done reverting his appearance back to normal, this time he received a message to meet Hookwise in a different room. Although curious and a little concerned, Jazz told himself not to read into it.
“Welcome back, Jazz,” Hookwise greeted him as he entered the closed room.
“Thanks, good to be back. How have things been? It’s been a hot breem since I was last here.” By a “hot breem” he meant almost 1.5 vorns.
Hookwise rubbed his jaw. “Let’s start with the urgent business debrief. Is there anything to discuss before we prepare for the official debrief with the key mechs of the base? My aides are making arrangements as we speak to have the official debrief be midorn tomorrow.”
Jazz nodded and settled into his chair. “A few minor details, but it went exactly as we hoped, and pretty much nothing deviated from my last check-in. But to put your mind at ease, let me recap…”
He did his best to summarize without delving into too much detail that would be covered later anyway, but he couldn’t help but notice the growing restlessness in Hookwise’s body language. “… and that’s probably good for now. Anything else you dying to know?”
His CO shook his helm. “No, no, but funny enough that expression, ‘dying to know.’” Hookwise stopped and looked incredibly uncomfortable.
Jazz would have given him a pointed look if it wasn’t for his visor blocking his optics from communicating through facial expressions. “Okay, what gives? You’ve been acting pretty funny this whole time, and that lead in just begs to be finished.”
“Right, right.” Hookwise took a big in-vent. “Well, that lead in about dying is regarding Backflash. You recall the Tactical Command Officer from when you were here last?”
“Yeah – he’s dead?” Even though he’d been gone for a long time, and anyone could die any orn, hearing that a Command Officer perished was still appalling.
“He is. I’m assuming you want an update on what happened to Tactical, including your friend, Prowl.”
“Absolutely. Did something happen to him – he’s still alive, right?” Jazz felt shaken to his spark at the idea his closest friend might have died along with Backflash while he was away.
“He’s still alive, of that you don’t have to worry. However, he’s – how shall we say – a bit differently than you may remember him since his promotion to Backflash’s position.”
Jazz jerked up straight. “Prowl’s in charge of Tact?!”
“He is,” Hookwise confirmed, and Jazz noted Hookwise’s clenched jaw.
He chose to file that observation away for now. “Can I see him? If he’s Head of Tact, then surely he knows I’m here.”
“He probably found out the same time I did. I chose to meet you here in case he wanted to meet with you during this ‘pre-debrief’ debrief. After all, he’s at the top of his field because he doesn’t waste time waiting, among other things.”
“And the reason you want to keep us apart when you’ve never cared before…?” Jazz didn’t understand. Did Hookwise think Jazz would go for his rank/role by using Prowl to upstage Hookwise? That was ridiculous, but Jazz couldn’t figure out what was happening.
“Honestly, I just don’t want to deal with Prowl any more than I have to. I think you’ll soon feel the same way. He’s not like how you remember him,” his CO warned him.
“You don’t understand him. No one ever did,” Jazz defended.
“Perhaps, but I think you’ll understand in time that I’m more right than you’ll want me to be. For now, you’re excused. I recommend going straight to your quarters and not comm’ing or meeting Prowl before the real debrief.”
Jazz nodded and silently left but wasn’t sure what to do after he was alone. Did he get his friend’s side of the story, or did he wait until the debrief that Prowl would surely attend and see what fate had planned for them?
As he moved to the main aisleway, he realized that he was still exhausted. He also concluded that crashing at Prowl’s quarters wasn’t an option, as Prowl surely had been upgraded to the Officers corridor. Comm’ing him might result in wasted time. Perhaps finding out what Prowl had to say would be best understood when he had a fresh start.
He wondered if he’d see Prowl before the debrief, but his friend never came before the meeting’s set start time. Instead, Jazz sat there in the room where his superiors and various department reps were slowly surrounding him, waiting for Prowl to arrive. The tactician didn’t arrive until the General did, the two of them together with a couple of aides each.
Jazz instantly homed in on how different Prowl carried himself. Whereas before Prowl was just stiff when conducting official business, now his posture and sensory panels were so straight as to look painful. It had to be a strain on his joints to be that rigid.
The General and Prowl took their respective seats, and the General began by asking Jazz to introduce himself. Jazz launched into his introduction and then immediately dived into his mission’s goals and outcomes, followed by critical details. As he did so, he watched Prowl, much like the last time he had a debrief. This time, instead of Prowl occasionally leaning in and whispering in Blackflash’s audial, he remained unmoving. His professionalism showed no warmth to seeing Jazz. Was it an act while all these officials were in the room, or was Hookwise’s warning more accurate than Jazz thought possible? Jazz’s instincts told him this was just the beginning of a long and hard ride.
Eventually the debrief was called to an end by the General, with Prowl never directly questioning Jazz. Now that he was Head of Tactical, he should have had questions. Instead, he piggybacked off other mech’s questions to ask his own to the general audience. This was not how Jazz envisioned any of it.
As soon as everyone began leaving, Jazz jumped up and tried to make a beeline for his friend, only to be cut off by Hookwise and Prowl’s aides. The aides held their hands up to deter Jazz while Prowl’s back was turned, but Hookwise snatching his arm and pulling him in a different direction was more effective.
“Don’t,” Hookwise hissed.
“Why? What’s going on? What haven’t you told me?” Jazz demanded as he was dragged away to a different hall than Prowl. Hookwise waited until the narrow hall was otherwise empty.
“Look, I know I haven’t given you much to go on, but you need to know that the Prowl you knew is gone, that he’s less friendly or open than he was before.”
“Define ‘open.’ Are we talking schedule or being around others?” Jazz chalked the rest of Hookwise’s statement as coming from a place that never understood Prowl like Jazz did.
“Both, and anything else you might interpret from that. Prowl runs this base for things like tactical and regulations, and he works with other bases for the same purposes. He enforces regulations here, and in some cases, everywhere in this region. While officially he’s only the Head Tactician for this base, he’s the main tactician for verifying other base tactics. He’s basically a literal working drone.”
Jazz hissed back at Hookwise. “Don’t call him a drone.”
Hookwise backed off. “Look, maybe you can schedule a meetup with him later this orn, or after Tactical has processed your mission files. Although Mirage is scheduled to come back soon, so after your mission files they’ll likely be processing his debrief and information next. You can try to figure something out, but don’t get your hopes up. He’s an ice-cold drone these orns.”
Even though Hookwise couldn’t see Jazz’s glare, Jazz hoped he could feel it before the saboteur turned away. Almost out of spite Jazz tried hailing Prowl. There was no reply, and Jazz reluctantly gave up for the moment to get some fuel.
For the next few orns, Jazz tried pinging Prowl twice an orn, figuring being an insistent bug in Prowl’s communication systems would eventually get a response. Finally, it worked.
::What do you need, Jazz?:: The response that finally came through was monotone, not with the annoyance Jazz had expected.
::I need to see you. Just the two of us, catching up.::
::I apologize, but my schedule doesn’t allow for socializing breaks.::
::You are literally the Head of Tactics. Unless the General says do a thing at a specific time, or a battle breaks out, your schedule is set by you and you alone,:: Jazz rebutted.
The pause on Prowl’s side was long enough that Jazz assumed he disconnected. Just as Jazz was about to give up for the orn, Prowl finally replied. ::If I meet you in the library in two joors for a short break, will that suffice your need to see me?::
::Maybe. Depends on what happens, and how short is ‘short.’ I’ll let you know afterwards.::
::I will see you in two joors.::
::Make sure you leave the aides behind.::
::I will leave them at the entrance of the library,:: Prowl informed him. ::As you may understand, my position here requires additional support and protection whenever I’m outside my quarters.::
::Fine, but not where they can hear us talk.::
::Acceptable. See you soon, Jazz.:: That should have had more warmth to it than it did. The warning bells in Jazz’s helm were starting to go off, beyond just a bad feeling.
He got to the library at their table well before the appointed time, hoping to settle his nerves down by just waiting and sipping his energon. He faced the entry way and went through some grounding exercises to keep himself from getting too nervous.
When Prowl appeared, Jazz gave him a warm smile. Prowl only gave him a courteous nod and didn’t immediately sit down. “Hello, Jazz. I’m glad to see you have fared well from your mission. Has the base received you well these past orns?”
Jazz shrugged. “As best as it can without you giving me a welcome back greeting. Hurts to know my kind and caring best friend doesn’t deem checking in on me worth anything.” He left out the part of a “welcome back” party being put on hold until Mirage returned from an unexpected deviation in his mission. It wasn’t relevant to the current discussion.
That blow to Prowl worked for a fraction of a klik when Prowl’s sensory panels and shoulders jerked as if stunned. “That’s not… you must understand that with my promotion comes expectations that I leave soldiers and agents to themselves. This meeting here is unusual and almost against regulations.”
“Don’t tell me there seriously is a reg that says a rank like yours can’t be around a rank like me.”
“No, of course not; that would be akin to classism. It’s simply not looked favorably upon.”
“So what, we’re going to stop being friends because of someone’s opinion about your promotion means you gotta let a lowly mech like me go?” Jazz knew he was being confrontational, but after orns of being blown off, he figured the direct approach was best to shake Prowl out of his coldness.
For all of Prowl’s tac-net’s foresight abilities of anticipating outcomes, Prowl’s attempt to wordlessly reply showed that the Praxian did not have an immediate response to that. Jazz decided to keep going. “I’m sure as the Pit not letting my best friend go because someone’s stupid whim says I’m not good enough for the friendship to survive a promotion. So, unless you’ve got something to say about that, you should sit down here with the energon ration I brought you and talk to me like we used to.” He pushed the energon ration forward, the liquid almost sloshing over the edges.
Prowl’s previously neutral expression finally let something through, and the tactician seemed at loss for words. Jazz pointed to the seat across from him and Prowl finally sat down. At first, he wordlessly sipped his energon, but when he set it back down, he said, “I’m sorry that I’ve given you the impression that you aren’t on good enough standing to be my friend. I suppose in the 1.5 vorns you’ve been gone, I’ve become used to not having a friend around. I was promoted less than a mega-orn after you left, so it has been some time since I’ve had a casual conversation.”
“Well, now is as good of a time to restart as any. You know a bit about how the past 1.5 vorns went for me, but I know almost nothing about how it went for you. How about you start from the beginning?”
“From the time you left?”
“Sure, or when you got promoted.”
“You mean when Backflash was killed by the Decepticons,” Prowl commented. “I was promoted on the battlefield temporarily, and then officially soon afterwards. Since then, it’s been business only.”
“No getting to know your fellow officers?” Jazz wondered if mentioning Blackflash’s death was painful for Prowl. There was no sign of it, but he was figuring out that a reaction (or lack of a reaction) from Prowl couldn’t be taken at face value.
Prowl slightly shook his helm. “Nothing beyond professionally speaking.”
“What about the other bases you work with?”
“It’s the same wherever I go, where my relationships are strictly professional.”
Jazz felt sad for Prowl. “Must’ve been lonely then, without me or even Mirage around.”
Prowl sipped his energon but didn’t respond. Jazz could read the unspoken words and tried to comfort his silent companion. “I don’t want you to be alone while I’m here. I figure it’ll be at least a mega-orn before I’m considered ready for another mission for one reason or another, so I’d like to keep you company until then.”
“You mean you aren’t going to drive yourself towards other problems by looking into other missions?” Was that curiosity or concern from Prowl, or both?
Jazz grinned. “You’d be proud of me, Prowl. I’ve made big strides since we’ve last been together. Thanks to you and Rung, I learned how to set workplace boundaries and use grounding techniques for a lot of things. I haven’t seen or heard things I shouldn’t be seeing/hearing since that party way back when.”
Prowl stared before murmuring, “I’m happy to hear that. I’m curious, when have you had a chance to set workplace boundaries?”
“In the various places I worked, like the Kaon refineries and whatnot. I had a few jobs while in Kaon and it’s not always hard work that gets you noticed. Sometimes it’s being a bartender who knows how to push back on drunks who want you to stay open longer or telling a drunk coworker at the refinery to stop being so dangerous. Speaking of which, I know you don’t drink high-grade, but I’ve got some mad bartending skills now. Give me the ingredients and I can make an insanely good mocktail,” he said with a bigger grin.
Was it just his imagination, or did that last part cause a subtle flash of panic to cross Prowl’s face? That didn’t make sense.
“I see. Perhaps another time we can try something, but I must get back to work now.”
“Really? You’re going to short-change me what was already considered a short break?” Jazz didn’t bother hiding his disappointment.
“That’s something more typical of me these orns.” Prowl stood up but hovered, as if uncertain how to proceed. Jazz waited and Prowl slowly continued, “While I am not much for company anymore, if you are willing to have these short chats every three or five orns, I would be willing to rework my schedule to allow them. I… I have wondered about your time on your mission. Hearing how things went for your personally instead of only from an agent’s perspective or report would be something I’d like.”
“Totally, I’m down for that. So long as you’re willing to trade stories and tell me how you’ve been.”
“I’m afraid I have nothing exciting to trade for your stories.”
‘Doubtful,’ Jazz privately argued. There was something more there, but the socialite/agent could be patient as he worked his way back in to find out what happened. “I’m sure your company is enough then, but don’t be afraid to share whenever something comes up.”
“Understood,” Prowl said as he left.
Jazz watched him go. Times were definitely going to be a long and difficult road ahead, but for the friend that helped Jazz grow to become someone more than barely functional, it would be a road he’d willingly traverse.