Writing, here I come...
Let's start this trip back into fandom, shall we?
Title: I Will Be Waiting For You
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Hinted slash. Slight angst. I’m sorry.
Pairings, Characters: Jazz/Prowl.
Summary: movieverse; pre-movies.. One mech reflects on the choice to let a loved one go.
Disclaimer: Very much not mine - they belong to Hastak.
Dedication: For everyone I have missed in my misguided absence. You all know who you are. Inspired by Within Temptation’s Bittersweet. Music here. Lyrics here. Just a short to play around with, testing my toes in the fandom waters again.
~*~
Prowl stepped out through the doorway, intakes whirring in a deep sigh. Each orn’s end became harder, more difficult to move everyone through. And yet, they survived, most of them.
And when he could, he would just step outside, even just for a moment, a slice of time to provide clarity, to let away all the worry.
As always, he refused to look down on the barren landscape that was their decimated world, the gleam of folded metal, stressed beyond its capacity, backlit by uncontrolled bursts of flame from broken lines beneath an impossible surface.
Instead, he looked upwards, beyond the waves of smog that covered broken Cybertron, waiting for a breeze to carry enough of it away to reveal the clear night sky above, the stars watching the death of the planet.
The white pins of light against the black, shining from their distance, brought his mind to Jazz, somewhere out there with Prime.
For the first time in an age, he considered again that time when the mech had left.
Complacent. In a way, that was what they had become. Just as they had grown to live life the way it always had been before the mess that was this war had begun, eventually they had become accustomed to living in a conflict.
A lifestyle has been rebuilt, and they had come to a comfort within that. For definite, the beginning had been turmoil. It had been sickening, terrifying. But in the end... it became usual. They had everything they needed, and for the most part, wanted.
They had their lives, their routines. Of course, it would have been Jazz to choose to disrupt that. He hadn’t been able to find a fault in his reasoning, and he knew that Jazz wanted to go, wanted to do something more than sit on this dying, decaying metal and continue the everlasting fight while there was something else that could be done. In a way, he had to go.
In his spark, Prowl knew that if he had asked, Jazz would not have gone. All it would have taken was one simple request from the tactician, and Jazz would still be there beside him. The silver mech wouldn’t have held it against him, wouldn’t have complained or begged or reasoned. He would have stayed and made of it whatever he could, his continued life there with Prowl.
They would have still been together, standing out here side by side, instead of one looking to the stars and wondering where the other was. They would be supporting each other through the surge of violence that had come in the absence of Prime and his team, as the Decepticons tried wave after wave to bring down their now apparently leaderless opponents.
But he had let him go, knowing what it meant for Jazz, what it meant to the Autobots. They had a life, and they would return to it, but only when this was all done.
There was a warmth to the memories, a reminder of everything they were warring to get back. Cybertron would not ever be what it had been, but the Transformers were resilient. They would manage a new life from whatever came, and eventually, they would settle to that too.
Until the day when they would be together again, he would be waiting, looking to the stars and remembering everything they had.
He would wait there for Jazz.