Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The nights were always quiet in New Praxus.

This suited Jazz just fine. Once upon a time, this would have left Jazz itching to seek out loud music and the company that comes with a thriving nightlife scene.

Not anymore. He was different now.

It had been so long since the day Prowl was taken. A lot of bots would never understand the connection one spark can have to another. Not in the bonded way, but in the soul mate way. Very rarely in life does a mech meet fellow spirits that resonate on the same frequency as their own, individuals that seem to fill their spark with warmth every time they see them, and no matter how many hellos, they still make them smile.

This was Prowl for Jazz. Yes, he had had a lot of connections to other mechanisms in his life, but something had been so different with that silly mech. The moment Jazz laid eyes on him it was like something in life started to make sense. The start of the war had been a lonely time for him, despite the bots around him, things were starting to feel so empty. Seeing that black and white Enforcer woke up something in Jazz and he just knew he couldn't be without him.

It wasn't a matter of 'he completes me', it was more Prowl helped Jazz's soul to
grow.

And that was something Jazz would forever be grateful for.

Losing Prowl created such a big gap, Jazz just didn't know where to turn, it was like someone pressed reset in his head, changing everything he felt so sure of. He felt like his mind just shattered into pieces seeing Prowl lying in state with no life in him, it just didn't make sense to him. Prowl was never so still, he was always planning the next twenty steps, always had a datapad in hand working. Seeing him so still was incredibly alien, it didn't feel real. Nothing really had since then.

The grieving process itself was a learning curve, bouncing back and forth between the stages, sometimes getting stuck between them. Jazz's process showed him something that he didn't want to admit, that he had been stuck where he didn't want to be. Jazz had always told himself he was happy with his place in the Autobot army and his role, but that was when he had no choice. The war was over now.

That was Prowl's parting gift, telling him he needed to live.

That was how he ended up in charge of the construction and rebuilding of Praxus. Rodimus had naturally shaken up command when he became Prime, surrounding himself with those mechs he trusted. Jazz didn't hold the demotion against the young Prime, in fact, he thanked him. Rodimus had been nice enough to offer Jazz a place anywhere he wanted, and only one thing felt right. Bringing back Prowl's beloved city, but better this time. The way Prowl dreamed.

Despite the city-state being mostly rebuilt now it sat barely habited. Mechs didn't want to live on top of the site of the worst single attack on civilians during the war. The neutral city had been levelled, survivors killed as they fled. He couldn't blame anyone thinking the streets were haunted. Now the neutral colonies were returning to Cybertron after not believing the news, Jazz was confident the city would be a thriving cultural hub in time.

Jazz was sat in his room staring at a set of blueprints an architect had sent him. They were for a memorial for the city, but they felt wrong somehow.

A soft knock at the door roused Jazz from his focus, the door opened to admit Bluestreak holding two cubes of energon. The Praxian had been a blessing the last few vorns. It was comforting to not be alone during the grieving process. Of course, every bot had someone to mourn after the shuttle attack and the siege on Autobot City. Every passing was painful at the time, it was hard not to let that pain taint the years of memories shared with everyone they lost.

He felt like he owed it to them to come out the other side and continue loving and spreading positivity. It was hard to do alone, but grief is not a solo sport, it may feel like an impossible marathon that no one can help with, but in reality, it's more like rowing, it is hard work, leaves you broken and exhausted but you are not there alone, you have your team there to help cross that finish line.
Bluestreak was his team.

"You haven't fueled all day," the grey mech said, handing over a cube, "Thought we could refuel together."

Jazz smiled, appreciating the irony. That was once him bringing Prowl fuel when the mech couldn't turn off his processor.

"Thanks, mech," he said, taking the offered cube, "just got a bit absorbed in making sure the memorial was perfect," he gestured to the hologram between them, "Something just seems off, and I can't tell what."

Blue leaned down to view the hologram, spinning it and narrowing his optics at the proposed and hummed.

"It's too flat," he commented, he wasn't wrong, the blueprint was for a wall, it was the only way to fit all the names. "And it needs some benches or something for mechs to reflect and pay respects, but I know what it really needs."

Jazz watched the gunner stand and cross the room to his wall of photos, it was Jazz's little memorial for the friends he lost, well, the ones he could find photos for. Blue gently removed a frame from the wall and handed it to Jazz,

"It needs something for him."

He looked down at his hands, to the framed photo of Prowl, a faint smile on his face as he looked out over the desert surrounding where the Ark once sat buried. Jazz vented deeply as the agony rose, he took that photo just before telling Prowl to the pit with the war, he wanted to bond. Jazz didn't trust his voice, his vocaliser felt like it was full of static. Bluestreak bent over to hug Jazz, his optics showing he was also feeling the pain.

"Primus," he gasped, trying to get the words out, "I don't think I will ever stop missing him, even in another million vorns" Bluestreak didn't let up the hug, he rested his chevron against Jazz's horn.

"Tell me how you met again."

Chapter Text

Iacon Autobot base - Early stages of the war

Jazz always enjoyed those brief moments between onlining and being fully cognisant. They never lasted long thanks to his mods, his boot-up time was much shorter than standard.

Sadly, today, the dregs of blissful unawareness were chased away by his comm beeping.

Right, the division meeting.

Jazz hated he had to be part of all that now. Gone were the days of doing jobs for the Autobots off the books. With the tensions building and the war looking like it was about to escalate the Prime wanted to secure all of their assets. Thus leading to him being ferreted away in the Iacon headquarters, officially joining up and being fast-tracked through basic training. To finish off the insult the higher-ups deemed it necessary to give him a rank despite Special Operations existing outside the standard command structure.

It did all make sense, Jazz knew that, but still. Being stuck on base away from the clubs and music bars of the buzzing city was like pure torture, even if he was sneaking out every other dark cycle.

Buzz, buzz.

Heaving a sigh Jazz onlined his visor and looked around his bare quarters. The rank had given him the privilege of not being in a bunkhouse surrounded by mechs all the time, which was nice but he was meant to have a roommate. The empty berth was just a reminder that no one wanted to bunk with an Ops mech, something about previous incidents of violent wake-ups. 

Primus, he was lonely.

Buzz, buzz.

Ergh, Fine.

:: ya got Jazz::

He hadn't bothered looking at the ID tag, Blueblaze was the only one who would be comming him.

:: Jazz darling, department meeting is cancelled, I'm needed, a situation just walked through the front door, I'll let you know the new time and place as soon as I can::

Jazz internally groaned. He was hoping the meeting today would finally give him a mission. He was desperate to do something that didn't involve being on base or training. 

::Great:: He said sharply and cut the line. Then immediately felt bad, it wasn't the Ops Head's fault something more important came up, the femme had so many pieces in play that things happen. It was one of Jazz's greatest traits to be flexible in any situation, he would just have to deal a little while longer. 

He could do that. 

...

Maybe.

Well, that was his cue to get off his berth and into the company of any bot he could. Needed to outrun the melancholy. A brief look over his armour to see if he needed a wash and the agent was out the door, his happy face on. Time to be happy-go-lucky Jazz who always had a smile and a tune.

He strutted his way to the rec room, the one place on base where mechs could hang out socially outside their accommodation. The large room served as a mess and activity room, the activities mainly being holofilm nights and parties, the latter usually hosted by Jazz.

There, sitting in the far corner, was a mech Jazz knew he could get some intel out of, it always paid to be aware of all the whispers circling.                                                        

"Listen Smokey, I need some gossip, base has been way too dull lately" Jazz dramatically flopped into the chair opposite Smokescreen, the praxian had an excellent view of the whole room, including the entrance, "Come on mech, ya gotta know of some scandal going on."

The red and blue mech sighed into the cube he was drinking from.

"Hello Smokescreen, how was your day, hope it was nice!" he shot at Jazz, causing the mech to give him a lopsided smile. "And to answer your question, no, nothing going on that I know of apart from some new recruits the scouters managed to get to sign up," he said placing his cube on the table between them.

"I know 'bout the recruits already"

"Then why ask!"

Jazz gave Smokescreen a hard stare, "We both know ya the mech with his audial to the ground, how else do ya keep track of the betting pools ya keep setting up - illegally"

 
Smokescreen fiddled with his cube, not looking at Jazz's piercing visor and instead around the room. Technically Jazz, as a mech holding some rank, should have reported his little gambling ring. So far Jazz had asked nothing in return for his silence other than some company and a bit of gossip.

"See Jazz, that almost sounds like a thr-" Smokescreen cut off, door wings hiking up on his back, optics locked on something over Jazz's shoulder. Jazz sat up straight, he turned in his seat to see what got Smokey locked up tighter than a suspension coil.

He felt his spark skip, he almost needed to reboot his visor, sure it was malfunctioning.

Standing in the doorway was another Praxian. A rare sight alone without the very obvious enforcer decals and colours. It was almost as if Primus himself had walked in. The air was palpable. Jazz's spark buzzed excitedly.

Praxians didn't leave Praxus. It just wasn't done unless exiled or somehow managed to escape the insular city-state. Smokescreen had even once described it as one big open-air prison. Praxus kept to itself, never getting involved in wider politics unless it directly affected them and never really permitting any tourism. So to have a Praxian Enforcer walking around an Autobot base was like finding the matrix in a cupboard.

He was also the most stunning mech Jazz had ever laid optics on. His walk into the room was so graceful, and soft. His doorwings held still in a way Smokescreen's never did. A bold red chevron sat above a face that must have been blessed by divinity. Compelled to stand and informally welcome the mech, Jazz began to rise, a hand grabbed his arm.

"Don't" Smokescreen hissed, "Don't go near him, if he's managed to get himself booted from Praxus then he's bad news Jazz."

"And if he wasn't?" Jazz murmured, not taking his visor off the mesmerising mech, spark yet to settle.

"Then that enforcer is trouble waiting to happen, Praxus won't take lightly to one of their own law enforcement leaving." Smokescreen watched the other Praxian walk up to the energon dispenser, "he just gave up everything in his life, his rank, family, and possessions to be standing here and you don't want any part of the fallout"

The mystery mech punched a code in the dispenser and waited for the machine to process his ration.

"He's a recruit, got a ration code." The Ops mech looked back around at his companion, "Maybe Praxus is finally sending help and getting over itself."

"Jazz, you haven't been there, it would take the planet burning before Praxus would send any of it's precious enforcers or resources to help, stay away Jazz." Smokescreen released Jazz's arm and shook his wings of the tension, this action caught the optic of the enforcer. The mech nodded at Smokescreen and flicked his wings in a greeting before turning to leave the rec room with his energon. The other praxian vented in relief along with the rest of the room. 

"seemed nice to me mech." Jazz said

"Praxian enforcers aren't nice Jazz, they are ten times worse than any stick-up the aft officers here, can't even vent irregularly without a citation, the city is all about order and fulfilling your designated function." He downed the last of his cube, unfortunately remembering life before he managed to get out of the oppressive city.

"Na mech, he's not like that, I can sense it" 

The blue and red mech could only shake his head. Jazz wasn't going to listen, he never listened. 

"Jazz, do you know why Praxus seems to have no crime? Other than not properly reporting it to make themselves look good?" Jazz cocked his head, gesturing for the junior tactician to continue. "There is crime in that pit-forsaken place, but every little petty crime is met with extreme force, every enforcer carriers an acid pellet rifle, they claim it's a non-lethal way to take down fleeing criminals but there are enforcers that won't use the neutralising agent once the perp is arrested, they will leave the acid to eat through limbs while the mech screams in pain. They are all sadistic. Stay away."

"Bet he jus' needs a friend, only gonna say hello"

That was Smokescreen's last warning, but it was clear it had fallen on deaf audials. Fine, stupid mech can go and get hurt. He watched Jazz get up and follow after the enforcer like a love-sick turbo puppy.

0o0o0o

It wasn't hard for Jazz to track down the black and white Praxian, as a new recruit with no rank he would be in the barracks and he didn't exactly blend in. He got directed to the bunkhouse the mech was in and knocked on the door politely. The door slid open smoothly and Jazz had to quickly close his mouth after it dropped open, there before him was the enforcer, he was even more beautiful up close. Icey Optics taking in every detail that made up Jazz, suddenly he felt very exposed, circuits bare for the mech to pick at and examine.

"How can I help you?" he asked, with the distinct intonation of a Praxian accent. Jazz could have melted with how hot his spark was running. He didn't, just offered his hand.

"Just welcoming ya to the base, nice t' meet ya" 
The Praxian didn't shake his hand, just stared at it briefly before looking Jazz in the visor.

"No." He stated flatly and let the door slide closed, leaving Jazz with his hand still extended and very confused.

No problem, just meant he had a challenge, he could adapt. Hopefully, the mech would attend the party he had arranged to welcome the new recruits at the end of the cycle.

For the first time in a long time, Jazz felt a real smile stretch across his lips, spark thrumming happily in his chest. Time to make a new friend.

0o0o0o

The party was in full swing, Jazz had gotten special permission from the powers that be to host the shindig as a morale boost, he'd even managed to get approval for high grade which meant there were plenty of bots with a good buzz. With help, he had moved the tables and chairs to the sides of the rec room to open up a space for dancing and bots were taking advantage of the dance floor. Blaster was on music and Jazz had set up some lights and lasers. Overall, it was a good vibe and everyone was enjoying themselves.

Everyone apart from Jazz.

He currently sat at the back of the room nursing a cube of high grade. He may have had one too many tonight but he was feeling a bit sullen, mystery mech had yet to show up which had ruined his devious plan to make the mech his friend and/or maybe more. Blaster had given up trying to get him on the dance floor and had gone to dance with Beachcomber and Cliffjumper. He was feeling lonelier than ever. Yeah, he was friends with loads of mechs on base but he felt like he had been perpetually lonely since properly moving to the base. All his connections felt surface deep at best.

"You look positively miserable" Mirage said, sliding into the chair next to Jazz. The blue and white noble gave him a little nudge with his shoulder. "Much unlike you, what's eating your plating friend?"

Jazz could only sigh. Mirage nudged him again.

Fine.

"You heard 'bout that praxian enforcer?" Jazz asked, not looking up from his cube on the table.

"Indeed, I have heard some intel to suggest we had one on base, what did he do? Attempt to arrest you?" Mirage sipped his cube raising an optic ridge at his compaion.

"I wish!" Jazz exclaimed, "At least then he woulda said more than one fraggin' word to me!" he slumped down further in his chair, crossing his arms on the table before him and burying his face in them. 

"Oh, dear Jazz, does the pretty mech not want to play with you?" Mirage teased, making Jazz groan.

"All I said was 'hello' and he literally slammed a door in my face" Jazz turned his face to look up at the nobal, "I hoped he'd come here and loosen up a lil and we could chat."

Mirage smiled warmly down at his silly friend.

"I recommend actually getting to know the fellow first before lamenting over him, it's only polite." Mirage winked a Jazz and gestured, with cube in hand, across the room.

Jazz had to sit up to see what Mirage was trying to show him, and even then it was hard to see through the mass of dancing mechs. 

There!

Jazz caught a glimpse of a black and white door wing! He was here! 

"Well, that certainly perked you up, go talk to him, you idiot." Mirage got up and left, his work was done. 

Jazz downed the dregs of his cube and sauntered over to the table that held the object of his focus, as well as two other mechs. One was a red and white mech he didn't recognise and the base's weapons specialist, Ironhide. That slowed Jazz down a step, unsure if he should interrupt when Ironhide spotted him and waved him over. Happy to have an in, Jazz sat in the last remaining seat around the table, right next to the enforcer.

"Jazz! I'd like yer ta meet Red Alert and Prowl, they're special recruits, Red here is gonna join the security team once 'es done basics and Prowl here will go inta tactical." Jazz thanked every god there was for Irohide! "Jazz here is part of our special operations and our unofficial morale officer" 

Red Alert nodded his head in greeting, but Prowl didn't even acknowledge him. 

Rude.

But he had a name. Jazz had to tell his spark to calm down, hearing the mech's name had sent it spiralling in a way he had never felt. This could end bad but he wanted to experience everything Prowl would offer him. Of course, this meant Prowl actually talking to him.

"You guys rock up this mornin'?" he asked the new mechs, a reasonable icebreaker to get things started.

"I arrived yesterday actually," Red started, "I wanted to be here early so I could be familiar with the layout of the base and any security in communal areas" 

Ok, so Red Alert was hitting the ground running, wasn't even in day one of basics and was checking out base security. Special recruits were always intense about their work.

"I drove in from Praxus just before the start of the light cycle"

Jazz almost locked up, telling himself to get a grip he turned to face Prowl. It took a moment for what he said to sink in fully.

"Hang on, did ya jus' say you drove here all the way from Praxus, like on your own wheels, not a convoy or anythin'?" Praxus was almost on the other side of the fragging planet, it was an insane distance to cover.

"Yes, I had planned accordingly, I had all I needed to make it to Iacon alone," Prowl said smoothly, clearly holding back a lot of information, but a party wasn't the here and now to push for more.

"Caused uproar when yer rolled in, no one knew wha' ta do with ya" Ironhide bellowed, recalling the events of the morning. This must have been the situation Blueblaze had to deal with instead of their meeting, good to know.

"I did apologise for the surprise earlier, I did not risk an open comm." Prowl shifted slightly, moving the wing closest to Jazz away from him, creating more space between the two of them. That didn't bode well.

"Na, yer all good, jus' caused a lil excitement." Ironhide looked at his empty cube, "Any yous want a refill?" he asked to the table, no one took him up on the offer and the hulking red mech pottered off to find more booze. Not wanting an awkward silence Jazz decided to put his plan into action.

"Hey, basics don't start for a few cycles and you guys will be allowed to come an' go till then, I'm happy to arrange an outing, show ya around Iacon, get to know the city" Yeah he'd rather give the offer only to Prowl but Red being here might help him out, make him seem just friendly and not focused on getting close to Prowl. Prowl's face was unreadable. 

"Thank you Jazz, but I've lived in Iacon for a long time now, I know my way around." Red declined politely. Prowl was obviously weighing up pros and cons, Jazz's whole body almost hummed with anticipation, eager to hear the carefully thought-out answer.

"I believe that would be useful, thank you Jazz."
Jazz could have sung from the roof of the base, Prowl said yes! Step one complete! Jazz knew exactly where to take the enforcer, he'd thought about it most of the afternoon. Ironhide dropped back in his seat.

"I miss anything?" he said, swigging the brightly coloured fluid he had poured himself. Prowl nodded slightly.

"Jazz has offered to help me get my bearings in the city" He informed the red mech, Ironhide smiled and gave Jazz's arm a good slap over the table.

"He's good our Jazz, he'll show ya a good time"

Jazz smiled at the older mech, that was the idea. Seeds planted, Jazz sent his comm frequency to Prowl, made his excuses and left to join the dance floor. He needed to burn off some energy from the exchange.

Prowl watched the other black and white mech spin and sway to the music, fighting off the urge to smile.