Chapter 9 Up
Title: Fishtailing (9/12)
Verse: G1 AU
Rating: PG-13/T
Characters: Prowl, Jazz, Sunstreaker, Sideswipe, ensemble
Warnings: none
Summary: Fishtailing: when the driver of the car loses control and the end swerves side to side; like their lives that, due to poor past decisions, spun out of control, and now they were just along for the ride.
Notes: This chapter was… difficult, especially to get the wording right, and it’s to the point where I’m not sure I’ll ever be completely satisfied with it. Feedback, as always, is loved.
Chap 1 Chap 2 Chap 3 Chap 4 Chap 5 Chap 6 Chap 7 Chap 8
“I’m not fine, I’m in pain
It’s harder everyday
Maybe we’re better off this way?
It’s better that we break”
- “Better That We Break” by Maroon 5
Vorns passed.
Jazz spent a copious amount of time pouring over public records, as he searched for anything to no avail. There was no official report that listed those who survived the attack on the prison. No confirmation on whether or not Barricade had died there, only that it was the prison that Barricade had been sent to for his sentence.
Jazz was at the end of his rope. When he was finally able to take a step back and look over the situation again, Jazz came to a decision.
Whatever the frag he and Barricade may have had - attraction, lust, love - was over. Because Jazz could not continue to live like that, frantically searching for bits and pieces of information that just did not seem to exist. It was slowly driving Jazz insane and it certainly was not healthy.
Especially considering that not once since his arrest had Barricade ever tried to contact Jazz, something inmates were allowed. Not once had Barricade exercised that right, which meant that he did not want to talk to Jazz. It was something that Jazz had ignored for too long, but led to a conclusion that Jazz needed to recognize.
Obviously, Jazz’s feelings were one-sided. Alive or dead, the conclusion was the same.
What Jazz needed to do was leave Praxus. To distance himself from the city-state that did nothing but fuel his unhealthy obsession with finding what happened to Barricade, a mech that might not even be alive anymore, Jazz set out for Iacon.
Jazz had visited the capital of Cybertron before, and found it a little harder to actually settle in and live there than he had originally assumed, due to the influx of refugees seeking the relative safety of Iacon over the more troubled city-states. But in the mass migration that happened, Jazz found it easy to get lost in the crowd and bury his tightly held obsession in a place that held no connection to the events that happened in Praxus.
Life settled into a sort of semi-routine for Jazz in his new home. He made new friends, had a decent job, and was safe as the rebellion escalated. Jazz continued like that for vorns, content with his lot in life, more at peace than he had been since Barricade had slunk out of Jazz’s apartment in the middle of the night.
Until one orn, a news report mentioned Iacon’s Archives and how it was the most extensive collection of legal and historical documents on Cybertron. It held more than just data from its own city-state, but from each and every city-state on Cybertron.
The obsession that Jazz had worked so hard to bury in the back of his processor came forth with a vengeance. It pointed out that there was still that sliver of hope that Barricade was still alive, that no official survivor list had ever surfaced, only the list of violent mecha that had escaped following the attack on the prison, a list that Barricade would not be on. But the Iacon Archives would have that list, it was close, and Jazz had a knack for hacking, making the information attainable.
Like an addict working to get his next fix, Jazz found himself working on ways to get into the Archives, his obsession with finding what happened to Barricade back at full force. His need to have all the answers to his questions pushed him forward as he plotted his route in and out, blocking out everything that was screaming at him to stop through the looped logic that addiction followed.
Because wouldn’t it be better, his obsession whispered, to finally have actual closure? To know if Barricade had survived the destruction of the prison? To know why Barricade’s case had all the markings of a cover up?
It was warped logic at best, because so far, every answer Jazz got always led to another question. And, eventually, it would come to a question that only Barricade could answer, and the chances of Jazz ever seeing the mech again were way beyond minuscule.
Confident in his hacking abilities and unable to stop his obsession, it was not long before he broke into the Archives and was hacking the data in the library for the records of the Praxian prison.
A joor later, Jazz was in an enforcer interrogation room, handcuffed to a chair sitting across a table from a mech wearing the recognizable red brand and being handed an ultimatum.
Be locked up in a prison cell for the foreseeable future, which, with the way Cybertron’s current stability was looking, would be the remained of Jazz’s life. Or, join the Autobots and put to use his natural hacking ability.
It was a simple choice to make, only…
“I’ll join,” Jazz said his voice even, his visor meeting the Autobot’s optics. “But I want the data I went in there for.”
The Autobot looked at the datapad in his hand that Jazz knew held the file he was after.
“What’s so important about a list of survivors from vorns ago that you would break into a secure archive to steal?”
“A friend of mine was in that prison when it was attacked. Praxus never released who died or where those who lived were transferred to,” Jazz summed up, not wanting to go into the details that led him to breaking more laws than he’d care to think about. He gave the Autobot a humorless smirk. “Look at it this way, out of everything I coulda gone for in the entire Archive, I went for a list of survivors. That’s the only thing I dug up.”
It was not the complete truth, because while it had been the most pressing question, it was not the only one. Had he not been caught, Jazz would have stayed until everything that could be answered was.
“Point taken,” the mech muttered, and reached over the table to hand Jazz the datapad. “As I’m sure you’ve guessed, this is the list of the survivors.”
Jazz’s servos shook as he took the datapad, opening the file that he just put his spark on the line for.
If he’s not in here, Jazz thought, then he’s dead and that’s the end of it.
It was a sobering thought that made his quiver, but Jazz held tight to it as a promise to himself.
Jazz read through the list, scanning name over name, and when he reached the end of it, he felt his spark grow cold.
Barricade was not listed.
“Well?” the Autobot - the other Autobot now, because now Jazz was one of them - prompted.
“He’s dead,” Jazz said, his voice soft as he put the datapad down and rested his face in his hands. Silently relieved that it was over, while mourning for what never be.
Three orns later, the Decepticons leveled Praxus.
Jazz joined the Autobots as he promised; there was nothing to go back to anyway.
===
Prowl was Barricade.
Prowl was Barricade.
Prowl was Barricade.
It was a mantra stuck on repeat in Jazz’s processor for the past week and a half. He had had no reprieve from it. Deafening music, high grade, even a sedative taken from the medbay had not drowned it out for a bit of peace in Jazz’s processor.
Jazz did not know which was the worst part, the never-ending mantra repeating the greatest personal betrayal Jazz had ever experienced, or the budding hysteria that had been growing in him ever since he called Prowl out on his lies.
It all circled down to one fact, one seemingly small thing, Jazz had found him. Jazz had found Barricade. After countless vorns, with scraps of hope dangling over his head and being sucker punched each time Jazz had had enough to reach for. After having to come to terms with Barricade being dead, having to be dead, for Jazz’s own sanity. After moving on with his life as much as he could during a war that engulfed his entire planet. After all of that, Jazz found Prowl, a close friend who he had thought might, at some point, end up as more, had been the mech who’s lies had started this. Bringing back all of the hurt and frustration that Jazz’s obsession with getting answers had brought.
And then Prowl did not even have the decency to at least try and properly lie about it, or even say something, to say any sort of excuse.
So Jazz ignored the mantra as best he could. He pushed aside the concerns that Blaster, Mirage, and Prime had voiced, saying that he was fine. And Jazz would be, he had dealt with the supposed death of Barricade so long ago. Jazz could deal with the death of his and Prowl’s friendship and whatever else they may have had going for them as well.
And despite what part of his processor kept insisting, Jazz could deal with not having his questions answered. They had gone so long without answers; he could live the rest of his life not knowing why. Why Prowl and Prowl-as-Barricade lied to him, why Barricade had even gotten involved with him, why Prowl had never told him. Jazz could live without knowing.
Or at least, that’s what Jazz told himself.
===
Sideswipe was ready to break something, a table, chair, or what the frag, that wall was looking like a good option at the moment.
The red twin had made five attempts to talk to Jazz. To get him alone and talk about what he knew about Barricade, and try and intervene on Prowl’s behalf. The saboteur had evaded each and every try, and it was not like Sideswipe could just corner the mech in the rec room about it, not only was Jazz a hard mech to find lately, Prowl would not appreciate the gossip and rumors what they talked about would generate.
Hence Sideswipe’s five failed attempts.
~Six.~ Sunstreaker corrected over their bond. ~It’s been six times. ~
~That doesn’t count! No one can prove I did that! ~ Sideswipe protested, glaring at his brother. ~Besides, how was I supposed to know that Grapple was gonna be right there with a bucket of paint? ~
~By looking? ~
Sunstreaker met Sideswipe’s glare with his own haughty one. Sideswipe finally broke eye contact to hit his helm on the table.
“I need to hit something.” Sideswipe whined and looked up while keeping his helm on the table to give his twin a pleading look. “Let’s go spar.”
“I’m not getting my paint scratched again today.”
“Oh, come on, Sunny! You know that wasn’t my fault!”
“Sad thing is, I know you didn’t know Grapple was there when you walked up to Jazz,” Sunstreaker said, optics looking around the rec room, “but several others, including Prime, are convinced that you’re the one responsible for everything that happened in the hallway. And now, Mirage, a mech with some of the best waxes available, has likely slipped something horrid into my paint supply for revenge. I’m not risking my paint job until I know that my back-up paint is safe.”
“But that could take weeks!” Sideswipe protested, and was going to continue until he convinced his brother to help him out, but stopped when he saw Jazz walk into the rec room, an idea forming.
“Hey, Jazz!”
Jazz paused mid-stride to give Sideswipe a suspicious look that Sunstreaker matched, before shrugging and walking over to their table.
“Yeah, Sides? What’s up?” Jazz asked.
“Wanna spar?”
Jazz and Sunstreaker stared at the red twin, and when Jazz looked at Sunstreaker questioningly, the yellow frontliner shrugged.
“Alright,” Jazz said, and Sideswipe grinned, getting up and leading the way out of the rec room.
~Yes! Two birds, one stone! ~ Sideswipe cheered. ~Sixth’s time’s the charm! ~
~You mean seventh. ~ Sunstreaker corrected his brother following Sideswipe and Jazz down the hallway at a more sedate pace.
===
Sunstreaker watched his brother’s spar with Jazz with a careful, casual indifference. The saboteur had given Sunstreaker a weird look when he found that the yellow frontliner was not participating, but had accepted the honest answer that Sunstreaker was protecting his finish. The other part of the answer was that Sideswipe was the better speaker of the two, and it was the red twin’s spur of the moment idea to try to have a conversation while sparing.
Sunstreaker had no idea how Sideswipe planned to bring up what he wanted to talk about. Especially during a sparring match brought about by Sideswipe’s own frustration from trying to talk to Jazz in the first place. Sunstreaker could not see how this was going to end well.
Judging from what he was picking up over the bond; Sideswipe was at a loss as well, not helping Sunstreaker’s prediction for how this was going to turn out.
Because so far, all Sideswipe had was, ‘Hey, remember hanging out with that one mech, Barricade, who one orn just dropped off the face of Cybertron?’ Not something that would go over well.
After a sharp jab that broke through Sideswipe’s guard, Jazz solved their problem by bringing up the subject for them.
“You two’ve known Prowl for a long time, right?”
“Yes,” Sunstreaker said, answering for both of them.
Jazz’s frown became a little more pronounced as he spoke. “He ever do any undercover work?”
Where Jazz’s frown set off warning bells in Sunstreaker’s processor, Sideswipe only saw an opportunity and jumped for it.
“Yeah, he once went undercover in a gang based around the Velocity Loop Race Track,” Sideswipe answered as Jazz caught his kick and swung the frontliner’s leg back. “You used to race there.”
“Yeah, I used to be a regular,” Jazz huffed as he and Sideswipe began to circle each other.
“I know,” Sideswipe replied and at Jazz’s confused look, elaborated. “I remember seeing you.”
Jazz froze.
“You… remember seeing me?” Jazz echoed, staring at Sideswipe, his faceplate strangely blank.
~Sideswipe, you need to back off, ~ Sunstreaker warned. This was either going to go very good or very bad, and with their luck, it was going to go very bad.
Sideswipe ignored Sunstreaker’s warning.
“Yep,” Sideswipe said, gesturing with his hands. “And normally, I wouldn’t get involved, but Prowl told us that you found out about the whole Barricade thing, and we know why it matters to him. I care about why it matters to him,” Sideswipe paused to give Jazz an unimpressed look. “But why does it matter so much to you? And you can’t say it doesn’t, otherwise you wouldn’t’ve had such a… childish reaction.”
Jazz glared.
“I can’t be angry about having great spark to spark conversations, interfacing with the mech, the mech disappears through mysterious circumstances, chase leads for vorns looking for the mech, and then re-meeting the mech under a new name with no acknowledgement of what happened? I can’t possibly think of a reason my anger would be ‘childish.’”
Sunstreaker stood up straight, mirroring his brother’s movement as Jazz spoke.
“Wait, wait, wait! Back up! You and Prowl interfaced?” Sideswipe demanded, and suddenly, the entire situation was put into perspective for Sunstreaker, and it was not a good one.
Sunstreaker pushed the feeling over the bond, but to his annoyance, Sideswipe ignored him.
“Yep, between being an undercover enforcer and abandoning his younger brother, Prowl found the time to interface with me,” Jazz said with a snarl.
Sunstreaker dropped the bond to glare at Jazz, his own snarl clear as he spoke for the first time.
“He never abandoned Bluestreak. I took care of him while Prowl couldn’t.”
Jazz turned to meet Sunstreaker’s glare with his own. “Same difference.”
===
Prowl was never one to allow personal feelings to impact his work. The first time it had happened, Prowl had vowed to never again be compromised in such a manner. Not only was it disruptive to his work, it was cruel and unfair to everyone involved. He had promised himself that that first time would also be the last he would be affected in such a way.
But where cold calculation of past events was easy, because they had occurred in the past, it was much harder to accomplish in practice than in theory.
It was how Prowl had ended up in the mess the first time, and how he had succumbed to it a second time. That it was because of the same mech both times only spoke of how poorly Prowl had handled it this time. He had known that this had been a possible outcome, and yet he had persisted in his friendship with Jazz.
Prowl’s musings were interrupted by a sudden comm. from Red Alert.
::Prowl, you’re needed in the sparring room, now!::
Prowl was up and moving before Red Alert was finished speaking.
::Situation?::
::Those blasted Twins are trying to kill Jazz! I knew it was only a matter of time - ::
Prowl ignored Red Alert’s paranoid rambling in favor of racing towards the sparring room.
Verse: G1 AU
Rating: PG-13/T
Characters: Prowl, Jazz, Sunstreaker, Sideswipe, ensemble
Warnings: none
Summary: Fishtailing: when the driver of the car loses control and the end swerves side to side; like their lives that, due to poor past decisions, spun out of control, and now they were just along for the ride.
Notes: This chapter was… difficult, especially to get the wording right, and it’s to the point where I’m not sure I’ll ever be completely satisfied with it. Feedback, as always, is loved.
Chap 1 Chap 2 Chap 3 Chap 4 Chap 5 Chap 6 Chap 7 Chap 8
“I’m not fine, I’m in pain
It’s harder everyday
Maybe we’re better off this way?
It’s better that we break”
- “Better That We Break” by Maroon 5
Vorns passed.
Jazz spent a copious amount of time pouring over public records, as he searched for anything to no avail. There was no official report that listed those who survived the attack on the prison. No confirmation on whether or not Barricade had died there, only that it was the prison that Barricade had been sent to for his sentence.
Jazz was at the end of his rope. When he was finally able to take a step back and look over the situation again, Jazz came to a decision.
Whatever the frag he and Barricade may have had - attraction, lust, love - was over. Because Jazz could not continue to live like that, frantically searching for bits and pieces of information that just did not seem to exist. It was slowly driving Jazz insane and it certainly was not healthy.
Especially considering that not once since his arrest had Barricade ever tried to contact Jazz, something inmates were allowed. Not once had Barricade exercised that right, which meant that he did not want to talk to Jazz. It was something that Jazz had ignored for too long, but led to a conclusion that Jazz needed to recognize.
Obviously, Jazz’s feelings were one-sided. Alive or dead, the conclusion was the same.
What Jazz needed to do was leave Praxus. To distance himself from the city-state that did nothing but fuel his unhealthy obsession with finding what happened to Barricade, a mech that might not even be alive anymore, Jazz set out for Iacon.
Jazz had visited the capital of Cybertron before, and found it a little harder to actually settle in and live there than he had originally assumed, due to the influx of refugees seeking the relative safety of Iacon over the more troubled city-states. But in the mass migration that happened, Jazz found it easy to get lost in the crowd and bury his tightly held obsession in a place that held no connection to the events that happened in Praxus.
Life settled into a sort of semi-routine for Jazz in his new home. He made new friends, had a decent job, and was safe as the rebellion escalated. Jazz continued like that for vorns, content with his lot in life, more at peace than he had been since Barricade had slunk out of Jazz’s apartment in the middle of the night.
Until one orn, a news report mentioned Iacon’s Archives and how it was the most extensive collection of legal and historical documents on Cybertron. It held more than just data from its own city-state, but from each and every city-state on Cybertron.
The obsession that Jazz had worked so hard to bury in the back of his processor came forth with a vengeance. It pointed out that there was still that sliver of hope that Barricade was still alive, that no official survivor list had ever surfaced, only the list of violent mecha that had escaped following the attack on the prison, a list that Barricade would not be on. But the Iacon Archives would have that list, it was close, and Jazz had a knack for hacking, making the information attainable.
Like an addict working to get his next fix, Jazz found himself working on ways to get into the Archives, his obsession with finding what happened to Barricade back at full force. His need to have all the answers to his questions pushed him forward as he plotted his route in and out, blocking out everything that was screaming at him to stop through the looped logic that addiction followed.
Because wouldn’t it be better, his obsession whispered, to finally have actual closure? To know if Barricade had survived the destruction of the prison? To know why Barricade’s case had all the markings of a cover up?
It was warped logic at best, because so far, every answer Jazz got always led to another question. And, eventually, it would come to a question that only Barricade could answer, and the chances of Jazz ever seeing the mech again were way beyond minuscule.
Confident in his hacking abilities and unable to stop his obsession, it was not long before he broke into the Archives and was hacking the data in the library for the records of the Praxian prison.
A joor later, Jazz was in an enforcer interrogation room, handcuffed to a chair sitting across a table from a mech wearing the recognizable red brand and being handed an ultimatum.
Be locked up in a prison cell for the foreseeable future, which, with the way Cybertron’s current stability was looking, would be the remained of Jazz’s life. Or, join the Autobots and put to use his natural hacking ability.
It was a simple choice to make, only…
“I’ll join,” Jazz said his voice even, his visor meeting the Autobot’s optics. “But I want the data I went in there for.”
The Autobot looked at the datapad in his hand that Jazz knew held the file he was after.
“What’s so important about a list of survivors from vorns ago that you would break into a secure archive to steal?”
“A friend of mine was in that prison when it was attacked. Praxus never released who died or where those who lived were transferred to,” Jazz summed up, not wanting to go into the details that led him to breaking more laws than he’d care to think about. He gave the Autobot a humorless smirk. “Look at it this way, out of everything I coulda gone for in the entire Archive, I went for a list of survivors. That’s the only thing I dug up.”
It was not the complete truth, because while it had been the most pressing question, it was not the only one. Had he not been caught, Jazz would have stayed until everything that could be answered was.
“Point taken,” the mech muttered, and reached over the table to hand Jazz the datapad. “As I’m sure you’ve guessed, this is the list of the survivors.”
Jazz’s servos shook as he took the datapad, opening the file that he just put his spark on the line for.
If he’s not in here, Jazz thought, then he’s dead and that’s the end of it.
It was a sobering thought that made his quiver, but Jazz held tight to it as a promise to himself.
Jazz read through the list, scanning name over name, and when he reached the end of it, he felt his spark grow cold.
Barricade was not listed.
“Well?” the Autobot - the other Autobot now, because now Jazz was one of them - prompted.
“He’s dead,” Jazz said, his voice soft as he put the datapad down and rested his face in his hands. Silently relieved that it was over, while mourning for what never be.
Three orns later, the Decepticons leveled Praxus.
Jazz joined the Autobots as he promised; there was nothing to go back to anyway.
===
Prowl was Barricade.
Prowl was Barricade.
Prowl was Barricade.
It was a mantra stuck on repeat in Jazz’s processor for the past week and a half. He had had no reprieve from it. Deafening music, high grade, even a sedative taken from the medbay had not drowned it out for a bit of peace in Jazz’s processor.
Jazz did not know which was the worst part, the never-ending mantra repeating the greatest personal betrayal Jazz had ever experienced, or the budding hysteria that had been growing in him ever since he called Prowl out on his lies.
It all circled down to one fact, one seemingly small thing, Jazz had found him. Jazz had found Barricade. After countless vorns, with scraps of hope dangling over his head and being sucker punched each time Jazz had had enough to reach for. After having to come to terms with Barricade being dead, having to be dead, for Jazz’s own sanity. After moving on with his life as much as he could during a war that engulfed his entire planet. After all of that, Jazz found Prowl, a close friend who he had thought might, at some point, end up as more, had been the mech who’s lies had started this. Bringing back all of the hurt and frustration that Jazz’s obsession with getting answers had brought.
And then Prowl did not even have the decency to at least try and properly lie about it, or even say something, to say any sort of excuse.
So Jazz ignored the mantra as best he could. He pushed aside the concerns that Blaster, Mirage, and Prime had voiced, saying that he was fine. And Jazz would be, he had dealt with the supposed death of Barricade so long ago. Jazz could deal with the death of his and Prowl’s friendship and whatever else they may have had going for them as well.
And despite what part of his processor kept insisting, Jazz could deal with not having his questions answered. They had gone so long without answers; he could live the rest of his life not knowing why. Why Prowl and Prowl-as-Barricade lied to him, why Barricade had even gotten involved with him, why Prowl had never told him. Jazz could live without knowing.
Or at least, that’s what Jazz told himself.
===
Sideswipe was ready to break something, a table, chair, or what the frag, that wall was looking like a good option at the moment.
The red twin had made five attempts to talk to Jazz. To get him alone and talk about what he knew about Barricade, and try and intervene on Prowl’s behalf. The saboteur had evaded each and every try, and it was not like Sideswipe could just corner the mech in the rec room about it, not only was Jazz a hard mech to find lately, Prowl would not appreciate the gossip and rumors what they talked about would generate.
Hence Sideswipe’s five failed attempts.
~Six.~ Sunstreaker corrected over their bond. ~It’s been six times. ~
~That doesn’t count! No one can prove I did that! ~ Sideswipe protested, glaring at his brother. ~Besides, how was I supposed to know that Grapple was gonna be right there with a bucket of paint? ~
~By looking? ~
Sunstreaker met Sideswipe’s glare with his own haughty one. Sideswipe finally broke eye contact to hit his helm on the table.
“I need to hit something.” Sideswipe whined and looked up while keeping his helm on the table to give his twin a pleading look. “Let’s go spar.”
“I’m not getting my paint scratched again today.”
“Oh, come on, Sunny! You know that wasn’t my fault!”
“Sad thing is, I know you didn’t know Grapple was there when you walked up to Jazz,” Sunstreaker said, optics looking around the rec room, “but several others, including Prime, are convinced that you’re the one responsible for everything that happened in the hallway. And now, Mirage, a mech with some of the best waxes available, has likely slipped something horrid into my paint supply for revenge. I’m not risking my paint job until I know that my back-up paint is safe.”
“But that could take weeks!” Sideswipe protested, and was going to continue until he convinced his brother to help him out, but stopped when he saw Jazz walk into the rec room, an idea forming.
“Hey, Jazz!”
Jazz paused mid-stride to give Sideswipe a suspicious look that Sunstreaker matched, before shrugging and walking over to their table.
“Yeah, Sides? What’s up?” Jazz asked.
“Wanna spar?”
Jazz and Sunstreaker stared at the red twin, and when Jazz looked at Sunstreaker questioningly, the yellow frontliner shrugged.
“Alright,” Jazz said, and Sideswipe grinned, getting up and leading the way out of the rec room.
~Yes! Two birds, one stone! ~ Sideswipe cheered. ~Sixth’s time’s the charm! ~
~You mean seventh. ~ Sunstreaker corrected his brother following Sideswipe and Jazz down the hallway at a more sedate pace.
===
Sunstreaker watched his brother’s spar with Jazz with a careful, casual indifference. The saboteur had given Sunstreaker a weird look when he found that the yellow frontliner was not participating, but had accepted the honest answer that Sunstreaker was protecting his finish. The other part of the answer was that Sideswipe was the better speaker of the two, and it was the red twin’s spur of the moment idea to try to have a conversation while sparing.
Sunstreaker had no idea how Sideswipe planned to bring up what he wanted to talk about. Especially during a sparring match brought about by Sideswipe’s own frustration from trying to talk to Jazz in the first place. Sunstreaker could not see how this was going to end well.
Judging from what he was picking up over the bond; Sideswipe was at a loss as well, not helping Sunstreaker’s prediction for how this was going to turn out.
Because so far, all Sideswipe had was, ‘Hey, remember hanging out with that one mech, Barricade, who one orn just dropped off the face of Cybertron?’ Not something that would go over well.
After a sharp jab that broke through Sideswipe’s guard, Jazz solved their problem by bringing up the subject for them.
“You two’ve known Prowl for a long time, right?”
“Yes,” Sunstreaker said, answering for both of them.
Jazz’s frown became a little more pronounced as he spoke. “He ever do any undercover work?”
Where Jazz’s frown set off warning bells in Sunstreaker’s processor, Sideswipe only saw an opportunity and jumped for it.
“Yeah, he once went undercover in a gang based around the Velocity Loop Race Track,” Sideswipe answered as Jazz caught his kick and swung the frontliner’s leg back. “You used to race there.”
“Yeah, I used to be a regular,” Jazz huffed as he and Sideswipe began to circle each other.
“I know,” Sideswipe replied and at Jazz’s confused look, elaborated. “I remember seeing you.”
Jazz froze.
“You… remember seeing me?” Jazz echoed, staring at Sideswipe, his faceplate strangely blank.
~Sideswipe, you need to back off, ~ Sunstreaker warned. This was either going to go very good or very bad, and with their luck, it was going to go very bad.
Sideswipe ignored Sunstreaker’s warning.
“Yep,” Sideswipe said, gesturing with his hands. “And normally, I wouldn’t get involved, but Prowl told us that you found out about the whole Barricade thing, and we know why it matters to him. I care about why it matters to him,” Sideswipe paused to give Jazz an unimpressed look. “But why does it matter so much to you? And you can’t say it doesn’t, otherwise you wouldn’t’ve had such a… childish reaction.”
Jazz glared.
“I can’t be angry about having great spark to spark conversations, interfacing with the mech, the mech disappears through mysterious circumstances, chase leads for vorns looking for the mech, and then re-meeting the mech under a new name with no acknowledgement of what happened? I can’t possibly think of a reason my anger would be ‘childish.’”
Sunstreaker stood up straight, mirroring his brother’s movement as Jazz spoke.
“Wait, wait, wait! Back up! You and Prowl interfaced?” Sideswipe demanded, and suddenly, the entire situation was put into perspective for Sunstreaker, and it was not a good one.
Sunstreaker pushed the feeling over the bond, but to his annoyance, Sideswipe ignored him.
“Yep, between being an undercover enforcer and abandoning his younger brother, Prowl found the time to interface with me,” Jazz said with a snarl.
Sunstreaker dropped the bond to glare at Jazz, his own snarl clear as he spoke for the first time.
“He never abandoned Bluestreak. I took care of him while Prowl couldn’t.”
Jazz turned to meet Sunstreaker’s glare with his own. “Same difference.”
===
Prowl was never one to allow personal feelings to impact his work. The first time it had happened, Prowl had vowed to never again be compromised in such a manner. Not only was it disruptive to his work, it was cruel and unfair to everyone involved. He had promised himself that that first time would also be the last he would be affected in such a way.
But where cold calculation of past events was easy, because they had occurred in the past, it was much harder to accomplish in practice than in theory.
It was how Prowl had ended up in the mess the first time, and how he had succumbed to it a second time. That it was because of the same mech both times only spoke of how poorly Prowl had handled it this time. He had known that this had been a possible outcome, and yet he had persisted in his friendship with Jazz.
Prowl’s musings were interrupted by a sudden comm. from Red Alert.
::Prowl, you’re needed in the sparring room, now!::
Prowl was up and moving before Red Alert was finished speaking.
::Situation?::
::Those blasted Twins are trying to kill Jazz! I knew it was only a matter of time - ::
Prowl ignored Red Alert’s paranoid rambling in favor of racing towards the sparring room.