[FIC] My Precious One
Title: Precious One (2127 words) by ren
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Author Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Characters: Jazz, Prowl, Bluestreak, Ratchet
Additional Tags: Masked Verse, Mention of Child Abuse
Series: Part 2 of Masked
Author's Notes:
- Written for the prowlxjazz anniversary challenge.
- You can find the challenge here.
- Week: Two
- Prompt: Lullaby
- The song is My Precious One by Celine Dion (lullaby) (it made me cry T.T)
Summary:
In the midst of a panic attack, nothing seems to calm the youngling.
000000000000000000
Prowl turned restlessly for what must have been the thousandth time on his berth, the frame that enveloped his true form suddenly oppressing, the many cables that surrounded him, jacked into his ports and processor, holding him in the protective padding incasing him were suddenly too tight, too invasive.
The various softwares linked into his processor kept Prowl unaware of his small form, the stillness it was forced into, more for sanity’s sake than anything else.
The times were he could feel his own frame, his real frame, were rare, and when they happened he was struck with what had been taken from him, how his life was a lie, the pain he had been submitted to, his frame no more than a tool for those who were supposed to care and protect him.
He let out a whimper, servos coming up to scratch everywhere he could reach, desperately wanting out of the frame that caged him. He couldn't breath, the air his fake vents fed his body felt heavy and suffocating. Systems overheating, the sudden panic only worsening the situation. His real body, usually motionless, twitched in distress, peaceful faceplates scrunching up as if there were in pain.
Prowl cried out in fear, twisting on the berth as he fought an unbeatable enemy, at the same time clawing at the sibling bond, calling out for his brother.
0000000000000000
Two levels down, the sniper was violently pulled out of recharge, optics booting up white with shock.
"Prowl." He breathed in disbelieve as he felt his little brother's pain and fear. Immediately, ignoring the calls of his roommate, he ran out the room and to the elevators leading to the officers' quarters frantically calling Ratchet at the same time.
:: What!? :: Came the snapped reply.
:: It's Prowl! He's having a panic attack! I need your help! ::
A curse was his only answer before the line went dead. Bluestreak rushed out of the elevator before the doors even finished opening, oblivious to the pain his doorwings registered as they smashed against the doors.
Anger filled him as he realized what was triggering this attack, the bond filled with pain echos from a long time ago.
"Bluestreak!"
Reaching his brother's room, the door opened quickly just as the medic was turning the corner, calling at the grey mech.
Both entered the dark quarters just in time to see Prowl fall of the berth. Immediatly the gunner ran to him, grabbing his brother’s wrists to stop the frantic scratching on his frame, already platings had been scratched raw, his fingers dented by the sheer force the youngling had used.
"Get me out, get me out, get me out!" He chanted over and over again, trying to rip his servos free.
The sniper's spark broke at words, knowing it wasn't an option. Still, he turned to Ratchet, optics pleading.
"I can't." Ratchet said in a pained tone. "You know that it isn't healthy for his systems to be disconnected so brutally so soon. It will cripple him!"
While the medic could get Prowl's real frame out of his weaponized frame, the repercussions were always big and sometimes dangerous. The cables that fed data and vital energon and fluids to his little body from such a young age had made his systems dependent, and when removed suffered from suddenly having to work on their own.
His processor was another thing. When Scheme, a.k.a Shockwave, had installed the battle computer and logic center, they had used the second processor in the larger frame to be able and keep the young processor balanced, redirecting data to keep the excess energy from overheating and crashing his systems.
These were the reasons why the decision to put him back into that cursed frame at the beginning of the war had only been done after orns of screaming matches and discussions with the youngling. In the end, logic had won out, but no one was happy with it.
This was also why they only separated both frames if Prowl was ever hurt in battle, and even then, they put the youngling in stasis and most of his systems on additional support to be able to take the strain. To simple 'get him out' could deactivate him.
"Then what do we do!?" Keened Bluestreak, holding his trembling brother tightly against his chestplates, sending wave after wave of comfort and love through their bond.
"We have to calm him." Replied the medic, frantically searching for something that would sooth the youngling's panic attack.
Prowl sobbed, doorwings twitching erratically.
"Get me out! Please I can't breath!" He begged panting. This earned a panicked look from the gunner.
"Ratchet!?"
"Calm down he can breath just fine, whatever triggered this is messing with his systems!"
Prowl howled in fear, images he had long repressed suddenly reigning over his memory cortex.
0000
A small cooing and chirping youngling was innocently placed inside the small pod, padding all around him. Prowl squirmed a bit at the tight space, but brightened when he felt his sire’s spark close by, his small arms reaching out.
Scheme looked at the sparkling with no emotion on his faceplates, the bond he shared with his creation suddenly severing, causing a startled gasp of shock from the sparkling.
Prowl started crying as the warmth that was his sire’s spark disappeared, leaving him alone and scared.
0000
Prowl whimpered, more images and with them, feeling crashed into him.
0000
Darkness blinded him, the pod closing around the crying sparkling. Prowl tried to reach through the severed bond toward his sire, calling out in fear, begging for reassurance and love.
He received nothing.
Panic settled in. He didn’t know what was happening. Why had sire left? Why was everything so dark? Why couldn’t he move? Desperately trying to find a source of comfort, Prowl grabbed the bond to his brother as if it were a lifeline. The comfort and love he felt only managed to calm him for a kilck before a green light illuminated the pod, cables and tentacles slithering from the padding and ripping into his small frame, his processor, his spark.
He screamed.
0000
“GET ME OUT!”
“I can’t! Prowl please calm down, you’re not there, you’re safe please please calm down you’re hurting yourself!” Cried Bluestreak desperately.
“No no no no no no no NO!”
The gunner was crying alongside his brother, not knowing what he could do to spare the youngling the pain he was feeling, wishing he had realized what his sire’s plans were sooner and have done something!
Ratchet was raging at the sight. Prowl’s fear was getting out of hand; a quick scan showing him the stress it was causing on the small body's sytems. He had to do something. While the medic didn’t want to use a sedative on such a young and fragile frame, he didn’t have a choice.
Before he could move though, the door opened.
“What is going on!?” Demanded Jazz, tone full of concern.
The saboteur had been recharging peacefully. Even deep in recharge his seeker programs had come online as it felt the distress of the youngling next door. The programs screamed at him to wake up. Jazz had been bit disoriented at the sudden onlining, but became fully alert as he heard Bluestreak and Ratchet’s worried yells alongside Prowl’s pained screams.
Not wasting a moment, the visored mech had leapt off his berth and ran to Prowl’s quarters.
“He’s having a panic attack!” Bluestreake cried, tightly holding a thrashing Prowl. “He’s remembering when they put him in this frame for the first time.”
Cursing, Jazz let himself drop next to the brothers, placing a servo on the youngling's helm lightly.
“Hey. Hey Prowl clam down, it’s okay.”
“Nooo! Get me out!”
The saboteurs spark clenched painfully at the broken cry.
“We can’t get him to calm down.” Blue said.
“I have a sedative, but I’d rather not use it.” Jazz could see the meaning behind the medic’s tone ‘do something fast, or I’ll be forced to administer it.’
“Here, let meh hold ‘im.” Bluestreak looked torn between giving his brother to the saboteur. Jazz gave Buestreak a meaningful look, and the gunner reluctantly handed over his little brother to the visored mech.
Jazz gently cradled the youngling in his arms, back against the berth. He made sure to keep a tight, yet soft grip on the mech’s arms and servos, having noticing the self-inflicted damage on his frame.
“Shhhhh” He cooed. “It’s alright. Blue, Ratch, Prime and me won’t ever let anything like that happen ta ya again.”
The comforting words were not what Prowl needed at the moment. He whimpered, still trying to get loose and find a way out of the cage that was his frame.
"I- I.. don't want to feel trapped any more! I- I want out!" The doorwinger cried, tears falling uncontrolled downed his cheeks.
"Ah know. Ah know." Jazz ran a servo up and down the hurting mech's back soothingly, his voice calm and soft. "Shh."
Bluestreak and Ratchet watched with sadness in their optics, spark breaking at seeing the youngling trapped in the large body, with all sorts of programs and systems attached to the fragile frame. Both knew his suffering wouldn't end until he naturally reached maturity.
They tried to find words that could calm Prowl, but before they could come up with anything, Jazz began to sing, gently rocking them both.
My precious one, my tiny one, lay down your pretty head.
My dearest one, my sleepy one, its time to go to bed.
My precious one, my darling one don't let your lashes weep.
My cherished one my weary one it's time to go to sleep.
Ratchet and Blustreak stood motionless, the lullaby touching a place deep in their sparks they thought they'd forgotten. Offlining their optics, they let the soothing words chase away all the fears and nightmares from their processors. Let it take them back to more peaceful and innocent times.
{C}{C}{C}{C}{C}{C}{C}{C}
{C}{C}{C}{C}{C}{C}{C}
{C}{C}{C}{C}{C}{C}
{C}{C}{C}{C}{C}Just bow your head and give your cares to me.
Just close your eyes and fall into the sweetest dream, cause in my loving arms.
Your safe as you will ever be so hush my dear and sleep.
{C}{C}{C}{C}
{C}{C}{C}Prowl's sniffling dimmed, small hiccups shaking his frame from time to time. He leaned fully into Jazz's body exhausted, the rocking and the visored mech's peaceful voice managing to penetrate his panicked filled mind, instantly calming him.
And in your dreams you'll ride on angels wings.
Dance with the stars and touch the face of God
And if you should awake I'll send you back to sleep.
My precious one, my tiny one, I'll kiss your little cheek
And underneath the smiling moon I'll sing you back to sleep
Bluestreak was crying by the end of the lullaby, a soft sob escaped him as he nodded his gratitude to Jazz. The visored mech smiled softly back as he held a now recharging youngling in his arms.
Prowl's systems had quieted, vents working normally. Tears stained his cheeks, but his faceplates now had a peaceful glow to them.
Quietly, Ratchet brought a few pillows and a blanket, letting Jazz fall sideways with the youngling still in his arms, the blanket covering them both.
Solemn, the medic gathered a weeping Bluestreker and left the room with a last sad look at the youngling that was suffering so much because of this war.
{C}{C}{C}{C}{C}{C}{C}{C}
00000000000000000
Jazz caressed Prowl's cheek, humming softly. He wished he could do more, but he knew it was impossible. His hold on the youngling tightened, his anger towards Shockwave increasing with the knowledge that he still hunted and hurt the Praxian.
A few orns had passed since the surprising revelation. The saboteur had stuck to the youngling like super glue, now that the true identity of their SIC was confirmed, his seeker programing had gone into overdrive and he viewed everything as a potential threat. Prime and Ratchet had had a laughing fit due to it. Bluestreak always expressed his gratitude for being there of his younger brother.
But it didn't seem enough. Prowl was constantly asking him questions normal to any youngling. The tactician had confessed he kept up a front for his brother so he didn't worry, but most of the time Prowl felt lost and broken in this frame. Jazz quickly became an important mech for Prowl, and the same could be said for Jazz.
Prowl whimpered in his arms, stratling the saboteur from his thoughts. He stared down at the youngling, love in his optics. Vowing that he would do anything to protect the youngling from future harm, Jazz continued singing.
My precious one, my tiny one, I'll kiss your little cheek
And underneath the smiling moon I'll sing you back to sleep
0000000000000000
Like?
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Author Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Characters: Jazz, Prowl, Bluestreak, Ratchet
Additional Tags: Masked Verse, Mention of Child Abuse
Series: Part 2 of Masked
Author's Notes:
- Written for the prowlxjazz anniversary challenge.
- You can find the challenge here.
- Week: Two
- Prompt: Lullaby
- The song is My Precious One by Celine Dion (lullaby) (it made me cry T.T)
Summary:
In the midst of a panic attack, nothing seems to calm the youngling.
000000000000000000
Prowl turned restlessly for what must have been the thousandth time on his berth, the frame that enveloped his true form suddenly oppressing, the many cables that surrounded him, jacked into his ports and processor, holding him in the protective padding incasing him were suddenly too tight, too invasive.
The various softwares linked into his processor kept Prowl unaware of his small form, the stillness it was forced into, more for sanity’s sake than anything else.
The times were he could feel his own frame, his real frame, were rare, and when they happened he was struck with what had been taken from him, how his life was a lie, the pain he had been submitted to, his frame no more than a tool for those who were supposed to care and protect him.
He let out a whimper, servos coming up to scratch everywhere he could reach, desperately wanting out of the frame that caged him. He couldn't breath, the air his fake vents fed his body felt heavy and suffocating. Systems overheating, the sudden panic only worsening the situation. His real body, usually motionless, twitched in distress, peaceful faceplates scrunching up as if there were in pain.
Prowl cried out in fear, twisting on the berth as he fought an unbeatable enemy, at the same time clawing at the sibling bond, calling out for his brother.
0000000000000000
Two levels down, the sniper was violently pulled out of recharge, optics booting up white with shock.
"Prowl." He breathed in disbelieve as he felt his little brother's pain and fear. Immediately, ignoring the calls of his roommate, he ran out the room and to the elevators leading to the officers' quarters frantically calling Ratchet at the same time.
:: What!? :: Came the snapped reply.
:: It's Prowl! He's having a panic attack! I need your help! ::
A curse was his only answer before the line went dead. Bluestreak rushed out of the elevator before the doors even finished opening, oblivious to the pain his doorwings registered as they smashed against the doors.
Anger filled him as he realized what was triggering this attack, the bond filled with pain echos from a long time ago.
"Bluestreak!"
Reaching his brother's room, the door opened quickly just as the medic was turning the corner, calling at the grey mech.
Both entered the dark quarters just in time to see Prowl fall of the berth. Immediatly the gunner ran to him, grabbing his brother’s wrists to stop the frantic scratching on his frame, already platings had been scratched raw, his fingers dented by the sheer force the youngling had used.
"Get me out, get me out, get me out!" He chanted over and over again, trying to rip his servos free.
The sniper's spark broke at words, knowing it wasn't an option. Still, he turned to Ratchet, optics pleading.
"I can't." Ratchet said in a pained tone. "You know that it isn't healthy for his systems to be disconnected so brutally so soon. It will cripple him!"
While the medic could get Prowl's real frame out of his weaponized frame, the repercussions were always big and sometimes dangerous. The cables that fed data and vital energon and fluids to his little body from such a young age had made his systems dependent, and when removed suffered from suddenly having to work on their own.
His processor was another thing. When Scheme, a.k.a Shockwave, had installed the battle computer and logic center, they had used the second processor in the larger frame to be able and keep the young processor balanced, redirecting data to keep the excess energy from overheating and crashing his systems.
These were the reasons why the decision to put him back into that cursed frame at the beginning of the war had only been done after orns of screaming matches and discussions with the youngling. In the end, logic had won out, but no one was happy with it.
This was also why they only separated both frames if Prowl was ever hurt in battle, and even then, they put the youngling in stasis and most of his systems on additional support to be able to take the strain. To simple 'get him out' could deactivate him.
"Then what do we do!?" Keened Bluestreak, holding his trembling brother tightly against his chestplates, sending wave after wave of comfort and love through their bond.
"We have to calm him." Replied the medic, frantically searching for something that would sooth the youngling's panic attack.
Prowl sobbed, doorwings twitching erratically.
"Get me out! Please I can't breath!" He begged panting. This earned a panicked look from the gunner.
"Ratchet!?"
"Calm down he can breath just fine, whatever triggered this is messing with his systems!"
Prowl howled in fear, images he had long repressed suddenly reigning over his memory cortex.
0000
A small cooing and chirping youngling was innocently placed inside the small pod, padding all around him. Prowl squirmed a bit at the tight space, but brightened when he felt his sire’s spark close by, his small arms reaching out.
Scheme looked at the sparkling with no emotion on his faceplates, the bond he shared with his creation suddenly severing, causing a startled gasp of shock from the sparkling.
Prowl started crying as the warmth that was his sire’s spark disappeared, leaving him alone and scared.
0000
Prowl whimpered, more images and with them, feeling crashed into him.
0000
Darkness blinded him, the pod closing around the crying sparkling. Prowl tried to reach through the severed bond toward his sire, calling out in fear, begging for reassurance and love.
He received nothing.
Panic settled in. He didn’t know what was happening. Why had sire left? Why was everything so dark? Why couldn’t he move? Desperately trying to find a source of comfort, Prowl grabbed the bond to his brother as if it were a lifeline. The comfort and love he felt only managed to calm him for a kilck before a green light illuminated the pod, cables and tentacles slithering from the padding and ripping into his small frame, his processor, his spark.
He screamed.
0000
“GET ME OUT!”
“I can’t! Prowl please calm down, you’re not there, you’re safe please please calm down you’re hurting yourself!” Cried Bluestreak desperately.
“No no no no no no no NO!”
The gunner was crying alongside his brother, not knowing what he could do to spare the youngling the pain he was feeling, wishing he had realized what his sire’s plans were sooner and have done something!
Ratchet was raging at the sight. Prowl’s fear was getting out of hand; a quick scan showing him the stress it was causing on the small body's sytems. He had to do something. While the medic didn’t want to use a sedative on such a young and fragile frame, he didn’t have a choice.
Before he could move though, the door opened.
“What is going on!?” Demanded Jazz, tone full of concern.
The saboteur had been recharging peacefully. Even deep in recharge his seeker programs had come online as it felt the distress of the youngling next door. The programs screamed at him to wake up. Jazz had been bit disoriented at the sudden onlining, but became fully alert as he heard Bluestreak and Ratchet’s worried yells alongside Prowl’s pained screams.
Not wasting a moment, the visored mech had leapt off his berth and ran to Prowl’s quarters.
“He’s having a panic attack!” Bluestreake cried, tightly holding a thrashing Prowl. “He’s remembering when they put him in this frame for the first time.”
Cursing, Jazz let himself drop next to the brothers, placing a servo on the youngling's helm lightly.
“Hey. Hey Prowl clam down, it’s okay.”
“Nooo! Get me out!”
The saboteurs spark clenched painfully at the broken cry.
“We can’t get him to calm down.” Blue said.
“I have a sedative, but I’d rather not use it.” Jazz could see the meaning behind the medic’s tone ‘do something fast, or I’ll be forced to administer it.’
“Here, let meh hold ‘im.” Bluestreak looked torn between giving his brother to the saboteur. Jazz gave Buestreak a meaningful look, and the gunner reluctantly handed over his little brother to the visored mech.
Jazz gently cradled the youngling in his arms, back against the berth. He made sure to keep a tight, yet soft grip on the mech’s arms and servos, having noticing the self-inflicted damage on his frame.
“Shhhhh” He cooed. “It’s alright. Blue, Ratch, Prime and me won’t ever let anything like that happen ta ya again.”
The comforting words were not what Prowl needed at the moment. He whimpered, still trying to get loose and find a way out of the cage that was his frame.
"I- I.. don't want to feel trapped any more! I- I want out!" The doorwinger cried, tears falling uncontrolled downed his cheeks.
"Ah know. Ah know." Jazz ran a servo up and down the hurting mech's back soothingly, his voice calm and soft. "Shh."
Bluestreak and Ratchet watched with sadness in their optics, spark breaking at seeing the youngling trapped in the large body, with all sorts of programs and systems attached to the fragile frame. Both knew his suffering wouldn't end until he naturally reached maturity.
They tried to find words that could calm Prowl, but before they could come up with anything, Jazz began to sing, gently rocking them both.
My precious one, my tiny one, lay down your pretty head.
My dearest one, my sleepy one, its time to go to bed.
My precious one, my darling one don't let your lashes weep.
My cherished one my weary one it's time to go to sleep.
Ratchet and Blustreak stood motionless, the lullaby touching a place deep in their sparks they thought they'd forgotten. Offlining their optics, they let the soothing words chase away all the fears and nightmares from their processors. Let it take them back to more peaceful and innocent times.
{C}{C}{C}{C}{C}{C}{C}{C}
{C}{C}{C}{C}{C}{C}{C}
{C}{C}{C}{C}{C}{C}
{C}{C}{C}{C}{C}Just bow your head and give your cares to me.
Just close your eyes and fall into the sweetest dream, cause in my loving arms.
Your safe as you will ever be so hush my dear and sleep.
{C}{C}{C}{C}
{C}{C}{C}Prowl's sniffling dimmed, small hiccups shaking his frame from time to time. He leaned fully into Jazz's body exhausted, the rocking and the visored mech's peaceful voice managing to penetrate his panicked filled mind, instantly calming him.
And in your dreams you'll ride on angels wings.
Dance with the stars and touch the face of God
And if you should awake I'll send you back to sleep.
My precious one, my tiny one, I'll kiss your little cheek
And underneath the smiling moon I'll sing you back to sleep
Bluestreak was crying by the end of the lullaby, a soft sob escaped him as he nodded his gratitude to Jazz. The visored mech smiled softly back as he held a now recharging youngling in his arms.
Prowl's systems had quieted, vents working normally. Tears stained his cheeks, but his faceplates now had a peaceful glow to them.
Quietly, Ratchet brought a few pillows and a blanket, letting Jazz fall sideways with the youngling still in his arms, the blanket covering them both.
Solemn, the medic gathered a weeping Bluestreker and left the room with a last sad look at the youngling that was suffering so much because of this war.
{C}{C}{C}{C}{C}{C}{C}{C}
00000000000000000
Jazz caressed Prowl's cheek, humming softly. He wished he could do more, but he knew it was impossible. His hold on the youngling tightened, his anger towards Shockwave increasing with the knowledge that he still hunted and hurt the Praxian.
A few orns had passed since the surprising revelation. The saboteur had stuck to the youngling like super glue, now that the true identity of their SIC was confirmed, his seeker programing had gone into overdrive and he viewed everything as a potential threat. Prime and Ratchet had had a laughing fit due to it. Bluestreak always expressed his gratitude for being there of his younger brother.
But it didn't seem enough. Prowl was constantly asking him questions normal to any youngling. The tactician had confessed he kept up a front for his brother so he didn't worry, but most of the time Prowl felt lost and broken in this frame. Jazz quickly became an important mech for Prowl, and the same could be said for Jazz.
Prowl whimpered in his arms, stratling the saboteur from his thoughts. He stared down at the youngling, love in his optics. Vowing that he would do anything to protect the youngling from future harm, Jazz continued singing.
My precious one, my tiny one, I'll kiss your little cheek
And underneath the smiling moon I'll sing you back to sleep
0000000000000000
Like?