Yay, done!
Title: Christmas Flower
Day: 30
Prompt: First Snow
Verse: G1
Rating: PG
Words: 4715
Other Characters: Hound, brief appearances of others
Warnings: None really, unless you have something against the hintings of a potential HoundxMirage relationship.
Summary/Notes: Normally I would review and edit this thing like 3-4 times, but I forgot the 30th was a Thursday, not a Friday. :> Please excuse the 20 minute tardiness (I'm on US PST) and any errors. Obviously not beta'd.
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Ssk ssk ssk.
Startled, Prowl abruptly looked up from his datapad the moment that awful sound from the hallway outside his office broke his concentration. While Prowl didn’t have much expertise on weapons or devices, he could have still sworn someone was shaking a large jar filled with metal beads.
His door opened and with Jazz’s sweeping entrance with colorful items in hand. “What are those?”
“These?” Jazz held up the two large, colorful orbs and Prowl could now see the plain metal handles they were attached to. “There was a special on TV showing how other Earth cultures celebrate their winter holidays.” Prowl waited for more to come, but it became apparent with Jazz’s smug smile that wasn’t going to happen.
“Jazz, I’ve asked you so many times to finish your explanations. How did a multi-cultural holiday television special lead to the creation of the objects in your hands?”
The mischievous smile on the saboteur’s face bloomed into a full smirk. “Well, Sideswipe was bored and for whatever reason decided to watch TV with Spike, who had to watch it for homework. I guess some of the instruments inspired Sideswipe and he managed to get Wheeljack involved. These are some of the results.”
Prowl stared at him. “Did you just bring Sideswipe-inspired, Wheeljack-built objects into my office?”
“Yup, sure did!” With a gleeful look, Jazz raised both in each hand. Prowl braces himself and backed up.
Ssk ssk ssk!!! Ssk ssk ssk!!!
After a few moments of the unpleasant sound echoing throughout his office, Prowl managed to forcefully relax his posture and doorwings to alleviate the pain in his joints. “Stop that.”
The harsh sound immediately ceased, although Prowl could see Jazz’s slight pout. Generally a pouting Jazz did not favor Prowl. If anything Jazz would come up with something worse than those noisy items. He supposed he might as well get it over with and entertain the mech or suffer the consequence of an unhappy Jazz. “What are those?”
“They’re called maracas!”
“Why do humans have such an awful instrument?”
Jazz frowned. “I think it’s not supposed to have high-grade steel bee-bees in it. I haven’t taken the time out yet to look into what humans use instead. It’s too much fun!”
“You are easily amused.”
“Only when I’m with someone who needs some amusement in their life.”
Prowl met Jazz’s angelic face with his deadpan expression. “Jazz, about a quarter of those datapads contain something you may find ‘amusing,’ particularly those with Sideswipe’s name on it. However, the other three quarters require my full attention. Perhaps for you being unexpectedly stationed on an alien planet is more fun and games than work. However, for me, it requires frequent data acquisition, strong calculations, and analysis to better understand how this planet will not only affect us as a species but also our battle tactics.”
“Gee, sorry Prowl.” Jazz immediately apologized, keeping his tone sober. “It’s just almost no one has seen you outside of the Ark in several decaorns. I figured a small break might be order. I know I haven’t been giving you my usual amount of attention.”
“Strange,” Prowl mused, “this past decaorn has been unusually productive for me.”
His companion ‘humphed’ rather loudly. “Fine, I’ll leave you and your datapads alone. I’ll take my maracas and go have fun else-where.”
As soon as Jazz’s retreating back was facing him, Prowl settled back down. A thought crossed his mind as he picked up the next datapad causing him to stop in mid-motion, alarmed. Immediately he called Jazz back in. Once the saboteur returned Prowl quickly voiced his worry. “Does Sideswipe have those?”
---
After a few breems after enjoying his renewed love for silence Prowl was interrupted again by Hound hailing and asking him to meet the scout just outside of the Ark. Prowl begrudgingly obliged despite the mech’s vague explanation. Based on the hail he figured the mech was a tad embarrassed over whatever it was.
As he passed by the Rec center and continued towards the opening leading out of the Ark, Prowl became increasingly aware of the rapidly declining air temperature as his internal heating systems kicked on. Although he hadn’t paid much attention to Earth temperature ranges and how humans felt about them, he suspected they would consider this an “unholy freeze.” Of course that was purely based on what Sparkplug once muttered so perhaps some humans would disagree. However humans felt about this type of weather wasn’t of any use to him, of course - unfortunately just like the sunrays. The brilliant and nearly blinding rays were deceptive, refusing provide any heat to ease his discomfort. With each step he could feel parts of the ground crack and crumble. The few pieces of nature in his view glistened in the surrounding sunlight, if only from the rays hitting their frozen moisture.
After walking about 75 meters, Prowl turned to start his ascent towards Hound’s location. Of course Hound wanted to meet him in his protected garden, hidden on the other side of a cavern about one-third up the mountain. As he climbed over the rocks he balanced himself until he could carefully lower himself into the cavern opening. It was so narrow hardly anyone larger than a minibot could fit inwithout ducking! Luckily the inconvenient passageway was relatively short.
Pshhkk!
Prowl winced as one of his legs hit a low rock jutting out further than he expected. He briefly examined his leg, realived to find hardly any damage other than superficial cuts. After carefully re-adjusting himself and turn his focus forward again, the disgruntled mech realized he could see the large plants and vines sprawled out around an opening about 30 meters in front of him.
‘That’s not possible. This is desert land.’ Prowl moved forward until he was free and stood up, finding himself surrounded in an elaborate and colorful garden. Plants of all colors, sizes, and floral families covered the walls and ground, some reaching towards the sky. Peering up, Prowl could see the sun and clouds through the tinted glass ceiling several meters above his head
“Prowl! I’m so glad you’re here.”
Prowl turned his head toward the sound and found Hound, whose hands were nervously running over each other. Attempting to provide the scout some ease, Prowl asked him about the scenery. “Is this your garden?”
Hound’s response was not one Prowl expected, although the mech’s surprise did cause him to stop fidgeting momentarily. “You don’t remember? You approved my request a few decaorns after we arrived here. You said it was fine so long as I kept it from being seen and none of the irrigation systems would allow passageway into the Ark for the cassettes.”
Now it was Prowl’s turn to be surprised. That was over two Earth season’s ago. Had he stayed inside the small Ark confines for so long? Was he so buried in his work that he forgot all the details he reviewed before he approved Hound’s garden? He remembered Hound asking him repeatedly to see what the scout had done with the request, but it was evident enough he’d never even attempted.
Disappointed in himself for being so detached from his suddenly close-knit team, Prowl decided to focus on helping his team member and pushed his thoughts aside. “What’s so urgent, Hound?”
Once again Hound’s hands began to fidget. “Oh, well, you see… I installed a special roof so any overflying Decepticons would think its part of the terrain, but I used Earth materials so the plants would still get their sunlight. I guess a glass greenhouse wasn’t the best idea though when it’s surrounded by rocks.” Hound admitted, embarrassed. “Now I can’t get one of my plants free.”
Prowl raised an optic ridge. “You need me to free your plant?”
“Well sort of. It’s hard to explain without looking at it.”
Hound led Prowl to the back of the large greenhouse towards a spot where the ceiling had come down. Most mechs wouldn’t believe Prowl to be much of a mech for gardening, but then very few knew of his own personal garden when Praxus was still a city. His garden had been one of the few places where he could escape and enjoy the peace in his cultivated crystal garden. He spent countless joors carefully trimming and cultivating each plant, and he could see that Hound had too with his alien garden. The mixture of large plants and small plants were so elegantly place that no plant overshadowed or covered another, yet the ground outside of the rustic path was virtually invisible.
Before long, Hound stopped and gently kneeled down. He held his hand out to the single fragile plant Prowl couldn’t identify, stuck between the support beams and broken glass. The unobstructed sunlight lit up the white pedals and fallen glass shards surrounding, the rays dancing around the tiny plant.
“I can’t get it out,” Hound said quietly. “It’s too fragile. If I move a support beam, then either the other support beams or broken glass will fall. If I try to grab it then I’ll crush it. It’s too small for my motor control abilities. I don’t know what to do but I thought you could think of something.”
Prowl stared. “What is it?”
“It has several names, but I believe its official name is ‘black hellebore’.”
Why a white flower had “black” in its name was perplexing enough, but Prowl’s annoyance was more directed to him being pulled away from work to save a flower. Still, he decided to keep it to himself for the time being. “How did you plant the bulbs?”
“Originally Spike and Carly helped me, but Wheeljack made me some tools so I could safely plant bulbs and tend to those sprouting. I tried using them but it just didn’t work.”
“Why don’t you wait until one of the humans get here? They can pull it out for you.”
Hound shook his head. “I already asked Bumblebee when he thought he’d return with them, but I guess they’re busy until late tonight. It’s too cold outside right now. I need to patch the ceiling so my plants don’t freeze and die, but I can’t do it until I save the black hellebore.”
“Then ask one of the minibots to remove it. It should be within their capabilities.”
“No, Bumblebee is out and I don’t trust Brawn or Cliffjumper to not crush it.”
“Then perhaps a scientist.” Surely Perceptor had the skills and control for such a ‘delicate’ operation.
“Perceptor isn’t answering and Wheeljack’s busy doing some medical work with Ratchet.”
That narrowed down the list considerably. The typical Autobot did not have fine enough motor control to carefully pull out an object significantly smaller than a Cybertronian microchip. Those who did possess the ability were either gone or unavailable due to more relevant work to the Autobot cause than a flower. Without any available resources and the rest of his greenhouse at jeopardy in the cold weather, Prowl couldn’t see why Hound would risk the other plants just to save a single flower. “Hound, you can grow more of these. It looks like you’ll have to anyways since the rest of the patch was destroyed,” Prowl pointed to the crush flowers. “Why risk killing all your plants in hopes someone can pull it out?”
Hound gazed at the lone surviving flower. “Remember our fight with the Decepticons in Europe over that coal mine? Mirage was injured pretty badly but Ratchet was able to give his injury fixed with some temporary patches. Mirage was feeling pretty low about failing the mission while we both recovering. While you and some of the others were running a new recon mission I managed to convince Mirage to go up into the mountains with me. We talked about Cybertron and being on Earth. I cheered Mirage up and we decided to swing by a local village on our way back. The village was selling the bulbs for these flowers so Mirage bought some. He told me he bought them because the legend behind the black hellebore reminded him of me.
“According to legend, a poor child wanted to see one of her gods in human form as he came to save the world. In her travels she saw the rich gifts others had brought for their lord. She wept for she had nothing to offer and an angel turned her tears into a beautiful flower, known as the black hellebore, or Christmas Rose. Mirage said the story reminded him of me because my gifts mean more to him than the riches of others because I put myself into them. That flower is the last one I have now.”
The honest and sweet story dissolved Prowl’s annoyance. Although he’d never reveal it, he could understand Hound’s desire to keep an object to remind him of someone. The one object that Prowl had fought to keep during their time on Cybertron was destroyed in the crash on Earth. He may have lost his, but he would help Hound keep his.
“Considering some of the elegance in the pranks around here, at least a handful of them would require the use of a tool that may suit our needs.”
Hound’s disheartened face immediately brightened and he rushed Prowl out so they could find such an instrument.
Unfortunately, a few breems later they had no luck. Instead, Prowl was finding the locked room for confiscated items a tad more bare than he expected. Since Ironhide was the one in charge, he sent a request to Ironhide to meet them. He strongly hoped Ironhide could answer the question. The idea that Sideswipe or other conspirators would break in and make off with a substantial amount of toys was more than a little unpleasant.
“What are you two doing in here?” Ironhide asked as he entered the room.
“We’re looking for a specific tool that may assist us on a task. I thought we might find one you’ve confiscated from the pranks, but it appears there’s a lack of inventory in here from the recent sheets.”
“Oh damn it. I forgot to update those. Sorry Prowl, its just this isn’t my highest priority of keeping accurate records of prank toys since we’re still working on a lot of the inventory. The crash has caused us a lot of grief trying to figure out what needs to be replaced. Remember when I submitted a request to destroy inventory items that no longer served a purpose to clear the mess?”
“Yes and I approved it.” With a sinking feeling, Prowl knew where this was going as Ironhide continued explaining .
“Well that included everything in this room I didn’t see a potential purpose for the cause. If you can’t find it, then chances are whatever tool you were looking for didn’t seem very useful at the time.”
“Alright, thank you Ironhide. You are dismissed.”
As soon as Ironhide left, Hound turned to his superior. “Prowl, the frost is getting worse and the humans theorize it’ll snow today.”
“I suppose I could see if Ratchet still needs Wheeljack.”
Before Prowl could hailed Ratchet, however, Teletraan-1 immediately sounded the alarm for Decepticon activity.
-()-
Ratchet needed Wheeljack. The battle had ended with few casualties, but one of the more serious cases had been Hound. The unexpected sub-freezing temperatures had broken several poorly-maintained lines and safety mechanisms on the local power plant, making it rather easy to overload the system and generate enough energy for energon cubes. Luckily for the same reasons, the battle had ended rather quickly when Devastator stepped on a patch of frozen ground. The surface broke and most of the Decepticons and a few Autobots were caught in Devestator’s fall. Hound had the misfortune of being caught and subsequently partially crushed under Devastator leg.
Now everyone was rushing about, trying to get the injured in from the cold or just staying away from the cold themselves as they wrote up their reports. Orns like this made Prowl want doors on the Ark.
Considering the shortness of the battle and the relatively few post-battle issues they had, Prowl actually didn’t have a lot to do at the moment. He would soon of course once those reports were finished, but the immediate post-battle timeframe usually carried the least responsibility from him. Of course that never stopped him since Prowl was not one for doing just the necessary.
At the moment he was sitting in one of the few quiet rooms in the Ark. He tried working in his office but Ironhide and Jazz had followed him in. Ironhide told Prowl exactly what he thought of the plan to send Hound to attack Starscream, and Jazz had jumped in telling Ironhide to back off. The argument intensified until they were nearly shooting at each other and Prowl’s attempts to change the topic were washed out. His presence didn’t seem to matter. For the first time since the demise of Praxus he left his otherwise occupied office, unable to work and or listen to a fruitless argument about his decision. Neither mech noticed.
Despite removing himself physically from the argument, he couldn’t stop thinking about those fateful moments when Hound was almost flattened beneath the gestalt’s leg. Prowl had seen a hole in the Decepticon’s defenses giving the nearest mech a clean shot at Starscream. That nearest mech happened to be Hound. However, with several of the Decepticons moving to close the hole the mech had to be fast. The scout was not fast enough but none of the other Autobots were within easy range. Yet Prowl couldn’t risk loosing the chance to take down Starscream and finally stop him from shooting at their medic.
Without a moment of hesitation he ordered Hound to make the move while he ordered others to move in to back him up. Hound moved in but Devastator moved in faster.
He knew Hound was the wrong mech for it, and Sideswipe was close enough that just maybe he would’ve reach Starscream in time. Prowl wanted his strategic advantage and the compromise was too high. He took the risk and now his teammate was suffering the consequences.
Now he sat alone, unable to deal with Ironhide and the others he knew felt the same way.
“You think Hound’s gonna make it?”
Prowl’s head popped up as he over heard one of the Aerialbots down the hall.
“Probably. I mean, Ratchet’s pulled bigger miracles out of his aft than that,” said a voice Prowl identified as Slingshot. “It would’ve helped though if Prowl hadn’t ordered Hound to do something he isn’t qualified to be doing. I can’t believe that crap. I could’ve taken that shot but does he order me to? No, he throws Hound under the gesalt. I’d hate Prowl if I didn’t already.”
“Yeah, I know. I was surprised to. I mean, there were lots of better qualified mechs around,” the first voice, now distinguishable as Air Raid, replied. “I’m sure it had to do with some strategic reason or another. I guess Hound was an easier choice than moving a real warrior over to that sector. Makes you wonder what goes on inside that mech’s head sometimes.”
Unable to stand overhearing any more of the conversation, Prowl left without the others detecting him. Prowl didn’t want to overhear any more conversations but the only place that seemed safe was the very area they were al avoiding. He walked outside and away from the Ark, feeling more dejected that he had in decaorns.
As he walked away, little spots of wetness began hitting him on the helm and arms. Looking up, Prowl could see the snow begin to fall from the dark clouds blanketing the sky. Immediately his internal heat systems began to crank up to combat the cold and dry his wet armor.
Prowl contemplated whether or not going back to the Ark to get out of the unpleasant weather. He didn’t want to freeze some of his systems but he didn’t want to hear others talking about Hound.
Hound. The thought jerked him back to his last conversation with Hound. Immediately he turned to move towards Hound’s garden. They had never freed that flower so precious to Hound, which sat squarely under the unprotected roof. The snow was coming down so hard that Prowl knew the small plant would be buried before long.
Within a couple of breems Prowl found himself looking at the flower, the snow piled higher than he expected. Looking up, he could see that the broken roof was acting like a funnel, dropping the surrounding snow on the lonely flower.
How was he going to free it? He didn’t have the fine motor control to prevent himself from crushing that tiny organism. What if he grabbed the surrounding dirt and pulled it up?
Prowl dug one of his fingers around the flower’s base but the other finger was being blocked by one of the beams. There had to be an opening big enough for his other finger that wasn’t on the flower. Try as he might though, Prowl could not find the opening.
Pulling his finger out of the dirt, Prowl studied the area surrounding the flower again. The fragile life form was at the mercy of both its surroundings and weather. With the latter steadily burying Hound’s beloved item and the former repeatedly beating him at every turn, Prowl felt his legs weaken until he sat down. Not only had he sacrificed Hound to get the shot but he couldn’t even save Hound’s flower. Prowl was not normally a mech to let his few emotions bring him down, but he couldn’t help it this orn. He let down one of the few mechs in battle that he knew didn’t speak ill about him and now he couldn’t even protect the one little thing Hound asked him for help.
“What are you doing up here? If it weren’t for your tracks, I’d never had found you.”
Startled, Prowl turned to find Jazz grinning at him. “I’d like to be alone for a while, Jazz.”
“Mmmmm… nah.”
Taken back, Prowl stared at Jazz “Excuse me?”
“I’m not leaving you alone.”
“Why?”
Jazz merely smiled back. “I have my reasons.” He walked over and knelt down by Prowl, unable to actually sit without crushing some of the plants on the side. As beautiful as the place was, the plants did crowd the pathway. “Why have you been staring at that flower?”
“Have you been watching me?”
“Maybe.”
Irked by the saboteur’s playful attitude, Prowl glared at Jazz’s happy little smile. “I’m not in the mood. Please leave me be.”
Immediately the smile on Jazz’s face dropped. “Hound’s okay. Ratchet informed Prime about Hound’s condition a breem ago. That’s why I came to find you, actually.”
After a moment of silence Prowl quietly thanked Jazz for the news. Another moment of silence passed before Jazz shift so he was kneeling closer to the flower. “What is it?”
“Hound called it a black hellebore, or Christmas Flower.”
Out of the corner of his optic, Prowl could see Jazz tap his chin. “Don’t the humans have a legend about the Christmas Flower?”
“Supposedly, according to Hound. I haven’t paid attention to Earth customs and beliefs.”
“I think it was one of those legends they talked about on Spike’s television show.”
“Oh,” Prowl absently replied.
Jazz stared at Prowl for a few more moments before gazing at the flower, now almost completely buried under the snow. “I thought there was a patch of flowers here.”
“There was. This is the one remaining flower of the bunch. Hound had asked for my assistance earlier because he couldn’t figure how to save it without crushing it.”
Prowl expected some a whimsical comment from Jazz about the situation, but the saboteur remained surprisingly quiet. After a few moments Prowl finally turned towards Jazz and saw the mech intently studying the situation. Lazily, Jazz grabbed a fistful of snow.
“I’m guessing you can’t move the bigger items, and likewise you can’t move the smaller items.” Jazz looked at his hand. “Most Cybertronians look down on humans because they are so much weaker and smaller, but with our superior strength and sizes, we actually can’t do half the stuff they can.”
Turning back to face the flower, Prowl thought about the idea for a moment. Both Autobot and Decepticon alike would mock the humans for their sizes and weaknesses, but they needed them for those same attributes more than most would care to admit. There was something poetic about it, but it was lost on Prowl.
Speaking back up, Jazz continued. “We’ve fought a war for so long our entire society has become consumed with it. Sometimes I worry that when this all ends we won’t know what to do anymore.” Prowl could see Jazz’s hand almost absently beginning to push the snow around. “We won’t be able to rebuild our society because we won’t remember how to do the things we once enjoyed.”
“I bet that worries you more every time we walked into a destroyed building back on Cybertron.”
“Yeah. Used to keep me awake when I should’ve been recharging. Before we came to Earth, I recharged maybe half of the joors I was supposed to.”
“And now?”
“Now I get my full recharge on most nights.”
Prowl once again turned towards Jazz, his quizzical look briefly bringing a smile to Jazz’s face. “You see, Prowl, I think landing on Earth was a blessing for us. I look at these humans and I see a species that managed to hang onto its culture despite the numerous wars. Sure, none of them lasted as long as ours, but some of them lasted longer than their life spans. I think that when the orn comes when we finally defeat the Decepticons we’ll get our cutlture back, even if we don’t know how. These humans will help us remember.”
Comforted a little by Jazz’s story, Prowl smiled. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Well for one, I was aiming for that little smile,” Jazz grinned and Prowl momentarily fought to keep his engine from revving, “but also because I watched some of those shows with Spike.”
Jazz held out his open hand below Prowl’s face, near the flower. In his hand were several tightly compacted cubes of snow. The tactician’s confusion must have shown on his face because Jazz’s smile appeared. The mech pulled away the snow engulfing the flower and into his other hand as he laid down the cubes. The cubes formed a circle around the flower. Although small by their standards, the cubes were almost the same height of the flower.
“According to one of the shows, the humans that live far up north make their homes out of snow. They call them ‘igloos.’ They make their homes out of compacted snow to preserve the warmth from their bodies so they can stay dry and warm. The compacted snow also gives it the strength to keep from being easily knocked over.”
Prowl looked over and saw Jazz crushing the snow with his hands. “I may not have the fine dexterity to pull out a tiny flower, but I can crush the snow and build it a home to keep it warm.”
“I don’t believe flowers give off heat.”
“The bare ground will, or at least enough for a single flower. The flower will be safe.”
Prowl watched as Jazz pressed the remaining snow cubes onto the first set, completely covering the flower. “Thank you,” Prowl said quietly.
“Never a problem, Prowl,” Jazz said just as quietly. The two of them sat in silence as Prowl looked at the tiny house Jazz built to keep Hound’s flower safe. Somehow that tiny house gave Prowl more comfort than news on Hound’s recovery. He had failed Hound in battle, but he would not fail to save Hound’s cherished possession. He would keep it safe until they could finally free it. The small notation melted away Prowl’s pain.
Looking back at Jazz, Prowl could see the worn look in his face and the dimmed optics. “Come on Jazz. I believe it’s time to go in and recharge.” Now it was time to care for his.
---
A/N: As some of you may be aware, the Christmas Rose is most notable for its ability to bloom in the winter, but it's pretty difficult flower to begin with. As I understand it at any rate. Happy New Years!
Day: 30
Prompt: First Snow
Verse: G1
Rating: PG
Words: 4715
Other Characters: Hound, brief appearances of others
Warnings: None really, unless you have something against the hintings of a potential HoundxMirage relationship.
Summary/Notes: Normally I would review and edit this thing like 3-4 times, but I forgot the 30th was a Thursday, not a Friday. :> Please excuse the 20 minute tardiness (I'm on US PST) and any errors. Obviously not beta'd.
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Ssk ssk ssk.
Startled, Prowl abruptly looked up from his datapad the moment that awful sound from the hallway outside his office broke his concentration. While Prowl didn’t have much expertise on weapons or devices, he could have still sworn someone was shaking a large jar filled with metal beads.
His door opened and with Jazz’s sweeping entrance with colorful items in hand. “What are those?”
“These?” Jazz held up the two large, colorful orbs and Prowl could now see the plain metal handles they were attached to. “There was a special on TV showing how other Earth cultures celebrate their winter holidays.” Prowl waited for more to come, but it became apparent with Jazz’s smug smile that wasn’t going to happen.
“Jazz, I’ve asked you so many times to finish your explanations. How did a multi-cultural holiday television special lead to the creation of the objects in your hands?”
The mischievous smile on the saboteur’s face bloomed into a full smirk. “Well, Sideswipe was bored and for whatever reason decided to watch TV with Spike, who had to watch it for homework. I guess some of the instruments inspired Sideswipe and he managed to get Wheeljack involved. These are some of the results.”
Prowl stared at him. “Did you just bring Sideswipe-inspired, Wheeljack-built objects into my office?”
“Yup, sure did!” With a gleeful look, Jazz raised both in each hand. Prowl braces himself and backed up.
Ssk ssk ssk!!! Ssk ssk ssk!!!
After a few moments of the unpleasant sound echoing throughout his office, Prowl managed to forcefully relax his posture and doorwings to alleviate the pain in his joints. “Stop that.”
The harsh sound immediately ceased, although Prowl could see Jazz’s slight pout. Generally a pouting Jazz did not favor Prowl. If anything Jazz would come up with something worse than those noisy items. He supposed he might as well get it over with and entertain the mech or suffer the consequence of an unhappy Jazz. “What are those?”
“They’re called maracas!”
“Why do humans have such an awful instrument?”
Jazz frowned. “I think it’s not supposed to have high-grade steel bee-bees in it. I haven’t taken the time out yet to look into what humans use instead. It’s too much fun!”
“You are easily amused.”
“Only when I’m with someone who needs some amusement in their life.”
Prowl met Jazz’s angelic face with his deadpan expression. “Jazz, about a quarter of those datapads contain something you may find ‘amusing,’ particularly those with Sideswipe’s name on it. However, the other three quarters require my full attention. Perhaps for you being unexpectedly stationed on an alien planet is more fun and games than work. However, for me, it requires frequent data acquisition, strong calculations, and analysis to better understand how this planet will not only affect us as a species but also our battle tactics.”
“Gee, sorry Prowl.” Jazz immediately apologized, keeping his tone sober. “It’s just almost no one has seen you outside of the Ark in several decaorns. I figured a small break might be order. I know I haven’t been giving you my usual amount of attention.”
“Strange,” Prowl mused, “this past decaorn has been unusually productive for me.”
His companion ‘humphed’ rather loudly. “Fine, I’ll leave you and your datapads alone. I’ll take my maracas and go have fun else-where.”
As soon as Jazz’s retreating back was facing him, Prowl settled back down. A thought crossed his mind as he picked up the next datapad causing him to stop in mid-motion, alarmed. Immediately he called Jazz back in. Once the saboteur returned Prowl quickly voiced his worry. “Does Sideswipe have those?”
---
After a few breems after enjoying his renewed love for silence Prowl was interrupted again by Hound hailing and asking him to meet the scout just outside of the Ark. Prowl begrudgingly obliged despite the mech’s vague explanation. Based on the hail he figured the mech was a tad embarrassed over whatever it was.
As he passed by the Rec center and continued towards the opening leading out of the Ark, Prowl became increasingly aware of the rapidly declining air temperature as his internal heating systems kicked on. Although he hadn’t paid much attention to Earth temperature ranges and how humans felt about them, he suspected they would consider this an “unholy freeze.” Of course that was purely based on what Sparkplug once muttered so perhaps some humans would disagree. However humans felt about this type of weather wasn’t of any use to him, of course - unfortunately just like the sunrays. The brilliant and nearly blinding rays were deceptive, refusing provide any heat to ease his discomfort. With each step he could feel parts of the ground crack and crumble. The few pieces of nature in his view glistened in the surrounding sunlight, if only from the rays hitting their frozen moisture.
After walking about 75 meters, Prowl turned to start his ascent towards Hound’s location. Of course Hound wanted to meet him in his protected garden, hidden on the other side of a cavern about one-third up the mountain. As he climbed over the rocks he balanced himself until he could carefully lower himself into the cavern opening. It was so narrow hardly anyone larger than a minibot could fit inwithout ducking! Luckily the inconvenient passageway was relatively short.
Pshhkk!
Prowl winced as one of his legs hit a low rock jutting out further than he expected. He briefly examined his leg, realived to find hardly any damage other than superficial cuts. After carefully re-adjusting himself and turn his focus forward again, the disgruntled mech realized he could see the large plants and vines sprawled out around an opening about 30 meters in front of him.
‘That’s not possible. This is desert land.’ Prowl moved forward until he was free and stood up, finding himself surrounded in an elaborate and colorful garden. Plants of all colors, sizes, and floral families covered the walls and ground, some reaching towards the sky. Peering up, Prowl could see the sun and clouds through the tinted glass ceiling several meters above his head
“Prowl! I’m so glad you’re here.”
Prowl turned his head toward the sound and found Hound, whose hands were nervously running over each other. Attempting to provide the scout some ease, Prowl asked him about the scenery. “Is this your garden?”
Hound’s response was not one Prowl expected, although the mech’s surprise did cause him to stop fidgeting momentarily. “You don’t remember? You approved my request a few decaorns after we arrived here. You said it was fine so long as I kept it from being seen and none of the irrigation systems would allow passageway into the Ark for the cassettes.”
Now it was Prowl’s turn to be surprised. That was over two Earth season’s ago. Had he stayed inside the small Ark confines for so long? Was he so buried in his work that he forgot all the details he reviewed before he approved Hound’s garden? He remembered Hound asking him repeatedly to see what the scout had done with the request, but it was evident enough he’d never even attempted.
Disappointed in himself for being so detached from his suddenly close-knit team, Prowl decided to focus on helping his team member and pushed his thoughts aside. “What’s so urgent, Hound?”
Once again Hound’s hands began to fidget. “Oh, well, you see… I installed a special roof so any overflying Decepticons would think its part of the terrain, but I used Earth materials so the plants would still get their sunlight. I guess a glass greenhouse wasn’t the best idea though when it’s surrounded by rocks.” Hound admitted, embarrassed. “Now I can’t get one of my plants free.”
Prowl raised an optic ridge. “You need me to free your plant?”
“Well sort of. It’s hard to explain without looking at it.”
Hound led Prowl to the back of the large greenhouse towards a spot where the ceiling had come down. Most mechs wouldn’t believe Prowl to be much of a mech for gardening, but then very few knew of his own personal garden when Praxus was still a city. His garden had been one of the few places where he could escape and enjoy the peace in his cultivated crystal garden. He spent countless joors carefully trimming and cultivating each plant, and he could see that Hound had too with his alien garden. The mixture of large plants and small plants were so elegantly place that no plant overshadowed or covered another, yet the ground outside of the rustic path was virtually invisible.
Before long, Hound stopped and gently kneeled down. He held his hand out to the single fragile plant Prowl couldn’t identify, stuck between the support beams and broken glass. The unobstructed sunlight lit up the white pedals and fallen glass shards surrounding, the rays dancing around the tiny plant.
“I can’t get it out,” Hound said quietly. “It’s too fragile. If I move a support beam, then either the other support beams or broken glass will fall. If I try to grab it then I’ll crush it. It’s too small for my motor control abilities. I don’t know what to do but I thought you could think of something.”
Prowl stared. “What is it?”
“It has several names, but I believe its official name is ‘black hellebore’.”
Why a white flower had “black” in its name was perplexing enough, but Prowl’s annoyance was more directed to him being pulled away from work to save a flower. Still, he decided to keep it to himself for the time being. “How did you plant the bulbs?”
“Originally Spike and Carly helped me, but Wheeljack made me some tools so I could safely plant bulbs and tend to those sprouting. I tried using them but it just didn’t work.”
“Why don’t you wait until one of the humans get here? They can pull it out for you.”
Hound shook his head. “I already asked Bumblebee when he thought he’d return with them, but I guess they’re busy until late tonight. It’s too cold outside right now. I need to patch the ceiling so my plants don’t freeze and die, but I can’t do it until I save the black hellebore.”
“Then ask one of the minibots to remove it. It should be within their capabilities.”
“No, Bumblebee is out and I don’t trust Brawn or Cliffjumper to not crush it.”
“Then perhaps a scientist.” Surely Perceptor had the skills and control for such a ‘delicate’ operation.
“Perceptor isn’t answering and Wheeljack’s busy doing some medical work with Ratchet.”
That narrowed down the list considerably. The typical Autobot did not have fine enough motor control to carefully pull out an object significantly smaller than a Cybertronian microchip. Those who did possess the ability were either gone or unavailable due to more relevant work to the Autobot cause than a flower. Without any available resources and the rest of his greenhouse at jeopardy in the cold weather, Prowl couldn’t see why Hound would risk the other plants just to save a single flower. “Hound, you can grow more of these. It looks like you’ll have to anyways since the rest of the patch was destroyed,” Prowl pointed to the crush flowers. “Why risk killing all your plants in hopes someone can pull it out?”
Hound gazed at the lone surviving flower. “Remember our fight with the Decepticons in Europe over that coal mine? Mirage was injured pretty badly but Ratchet was able to give his injury fixed with some temporary patches. Mirage was feeling pretty low about failing the mission while we both recovering. While you and some of the others were running a new recon mission I managed to convince Mirage to go up into the mountains with me. We talked about Cybertron and being on Earth. I cheered Mirage up and we decided to swing by a local village on our way back. The village was selling the bulbs for these flowers so Mirage bought some. He told me he bought them because the legend behind the black hellebore reminded him of me.
“According to legend, a poor child wanted to see one of her gods in human form as he came to save the world. In her travels she saw the rich gifts others had brought for their lord. She wept for she had nothing to offer and an angel turned her tears into a beautiful flower, known as the black hellebore, or Christmas Rose. Mirage said the story reminded him of me because my gifts mean more to him than the riches of others because I put myself into them. That flower is the last one I have now.”
The honest and sweet story dissolved Prowl’s annoyance. Although he’d never reveal it, he could understand Hound’s desire to keep an object to remind him of someone. The one object that Prowl had fought to keep during their time on Cybertron was destroyed in the crash on Earth. He may have lost his, but he would help Hound keep his.
“Considering some of the elegance in the pranks around here, at least a handful of them would require the use of a tool that may suit our needs.”
Hound’s disheartened face immediately brightened and he rushed Prowl out so they could find such an instrument.
Unfortunately, a few breems later they had no luck. Instead, Prowl was finding the locked room for confiscated items a tad more bare than he expected. Since Ironhide was the one in charge, he sent a request to Ironhide to meet them. He strongly hoped Ironhide could answer the question. The idea that Sideswipe or other conspirators would break in and make off with a substantial amount of toys was more than a little unpleasant.
“What are you two doing in here?” Ironhide asked as he entered the room.
“We’re looking for a specific tool that may assist us on a task. I thought we might find one you’ve confiscated from the pranks, but it appears there’s a lack of inventory in here from the recent sheets.”
“Oh damn it. I forgot to update those. Sorry Prowl, its just this isn’t my highest priority of keeping accurate records of prank toys since we’re still working on a lot of the inventory. The crash has caused us a lot of grief trying to figure out what needs to be replaced. Remember when I submitted a request to destroy inventory items that no longer served a purpose to clear the mess?”
“Yes and I approved it.” With a sinking feeling, Prowl knew where this was going as Ironhide continued explaining .
“Well that included everything in this room I didn’t see a potential purpose for the cause. If you can’t find it, then chances are whatever tool you were looking for didn’t seem very useful at the time.”
“Alright, thank you Ironhide. You are dismissed.”
As soon as Ironhide left, Hound turned to his superior. “Prowl, the frost is getting worse and the humans theorize it’ll snow today.”
“I suppose I could see if Ratchet still needs Wheeljack.”
Before Prowl could hailed Ratchet, however, Teletraan-1 immediately sounded the alarm for Decepticon activity.
-()-
Ratchet needed Wheeljack. The battle had ended with few casualties, but one of the more serious cases had been Hound. The unexpected sub-freezing temperatures had broken several poorly-maintained lines and safety mechanisms on the local power plant, making it rather easy to overload the system and generate enough energy for energon cubes. Luckily for the same reasons, the battle had ended rather quickly when Devastator stepped on a patch of frozen ground. The surface broke and most of the Decepticons and a few Autobots were caught in Devestator’s fall. Hound had the misfortune of being caught and subsequently partially crushed under Devastator leg.
Now everyone was rushing about, trying to get the injured in from the cold or just staying away from the cold themselves as they wrote up their reports. Orns like this made Prowl want doors on the Ark.
Considering the shortness of the battle and the relatively few post-battle issues they had, Prowl actually didn’t have a lot to do at the moment. He would soon of course once those reports were finished, but the immediate post-battle timeframe usually carried the least responsibility from him. Of course that never stopped him since Prowl was not one for doing just the necessary.
At the moment he was sitting in one of the few quiet rooms in the Ark. He tried working in his office but Ironhide and Jazz had followed him in. Ironhide told Prowl exactly what he thought of the plan to send Hound to attack Starscream, and Jazz had jumped in telling Ironhide to back off. The argument intensified until they were nearly shooting at each other and Prowl’s attempts to change the topic were washed out. His presence didn’t seem to matter. For the first time since the demise of Praxus he left his otherwise occupied office, unable to work and or listen to a fruitless argument about his decision. Neither mech noticed.
Despite removing himself physically from the argument, he couldn’t stop thinking about those fateful moments when Hound was almost flattened beneath the gestalt’s leg. Prowl had seen a hole in the Decepticon’s defenses giving the nearest mech a clean shot at Starscream. That nearest mech happened to be Hound. However, with several of the Decepticons moving to close the hole the mech had to be fast. The scout was not fast enough but none of the other Autobots were within easy range. Yet Prowl couldn’t risk loosing the chance to take down Starscream and finally stop him from shooting at their medic.
Without a moment of hesitation he ordered Hound to make the move while he ordered others to move in to back him up. Hound moved in but Devastator moved in faster.
He knew Hound was the wrong mech for it, and Sideswipe was close enough that just maybe he would’ve reach Starscream in time. Prowl wanted his strategic advantage and the compromise was too high. He took the risk and now his teammate was suffering the consequences.
Now he sat alone, unable to deal with Ironhide and the others he knew felt the same way.
“You think Hound’s gonna make it?”
Prowl’s head popped up as he over heard one of the Aerialbots down the hall.
“Probably. I mean, Ratchet’s pulled bigger miracles out of his aft than that,” said a voice Prowl identified as Slingshot. “It would’ve helped though if Prowl hadn’t ordered Hound to do something he isn’t qualified to be doing. I can’t believe that crap. I could’ve taken that shot but does he order me to? No, he throws Hound under the gesalt. I’d hate Prowl if I didn’t already.”
“Yeah, I know. I was surprised to. I mean, there were lots of better qualified mechs around,” the first voice, now distinguishable as Air Raid, replied. “I’m sure it had to do with some strategic reason or another. I guess Hound was an easier choice than moving a real warrior over to that sector. Makes you wonder what goes on inside that mech’s head sometimes.”
Unable to stand overhearing any more of the conversation, Prowl left without the others detecting him. Prowl didn’t want to overhear any more conversations but the only place that seemed safe was the very area they were al avoiding. He walked outside and away from the Ark, feeling more dejected that he had in decaorns.
As he walked away, little spots of wetness began hitting him on the helm and arms. Looking up, Prowl could see the snow begin to fall from the dark clouds blanketing the sky. Immediately his internal heat systems began to crank up to combat the cold and dry his wet armor.
Prowl contemplated whether or not going back to the Ark to get out of the unpleasant weather. He didn’t want to freeze some of his systems but he didn’t want to hear others talking about Hound.
Hound. The thought jerked him back to his last conversation with Hound. Immediately he turned to move towards Hound’s garden. They had never freed that flower so precious to Hound, which sat squarely under the unprotected roof. The snow was coming down so hard that Prowl knew the small plant would be buried before long.
Within a couple of breems Prowl found himself looking at the flower, the snow piled higher than he expected. Looking up, he could see that the broken roof was acting like a funnel, dropping the surrounding snow on the lonely flower.
How was he going to free it? He didn’t have the fine motor control to prevent himself from crushing that tiny organism. What if he grabbed the surrounding dirt and pulled it up?
Prowl dug one of his fingers around the flower’s base but the other finger was being blocked by one of the beams. There had to be an opening big enough for his other finger that wasn’t on the flower. Try as he might though, Prowl could not find the opening.
Pulling his finger out of the dirt, Prowl studied the area surrounding the flower again. The fragile life form was at the mercy of both its surroundings and weather. With the latter steadily burying Hound’s beloved item and the former repeatedly beating him at every turn, Prowl felt his legs weaken until he sat down. Not only had he sacrificed Hound to get the shot but he couldn’t even save Hound’s flower. Prowl was not normally a mech to let his few emotions bring him down, but he couldn’t help it this orn. He let down one of the few mechs in battle that he knew didn’t speak ill about him and now he couldn’t even protect the one little thing Hound asked him for help.
“What are you doing up here? If it weren’t for your tracks, I’d never had found you.”
Startled, Prowl turned to find Jazz grinning at him. “I’d like to be alone for a while, Jazz.”
“Mmmmm… nah.”
Taken back, Prowl stared at Jazz “Excuse me?”
“I’m not leaving you alone.”
“Why?”
Jazz merely smiled back. “I have my reasons.” He walked over and knelt down by Prowl, unable to actually sit without crushing some of the plants on the side. As beautiful as the place was, the plants did crowd the pathway. “Why have you been staring at that flower?”
“Have you been watching me?”
“Maybe.”
Irked by the saboteur’s playful attitude, Prowl glared at Jazz’s happy little smile. “I’m not in the mood. Please leave me be.”
Immediately the smile on Jazz’s face dropped. “Hound’s okay. Ratchet informed Prime about Hound’s condition a breem ago. That’s why I came to find you, actually.”
After a moment of silence Prowl quietly thanked Jazz for the news. Another moment of silence passed before Jazz shift so he was kneeling closer to the flower. “What is it?”
“Hound called it a black hellebore, or Christmas Flower.”
Out of the corner of his optic, Prowl could see Jazz tap his chin. “Don’t the humans have a legend about the Christmas Flower?”
“Supposedly, according to Hound. I haven’t paid attention to Earth customs and beliefs.”
“I think it was one of those legends they talked about on Spike’s television show.”
“Oh,” Prowl absently replied.
Jazz stared at Prowl for a few more moments before gazing at the flower, now almost completely buried under the snow. “I thought there was a patch of flowers here.”
“There was. This is the one remaining flower of the bunch. Hound had asked for my assistance earlier because he couldn’t figure how to save it without crushing it.”
Prowl expected some a whimsical comment from Jazz about the situation, but the saboteur remained surprisingly quiet. After a few moments Prowl finally turned towards Jazz and saw the mech intently studying the situation. Lazily, Jazz grabbed a fistful of snow.
“I’m guessing you can’t move the bigger items, and likewise you can’t move the smaller items.” Jazz looked at his hand. “Most Cybertronians look down on humans because they are so much weaker and smaller, but with our superior strength and sizes, we actually can’t do half the stuff they can.”
Turning back to face the flower, Prowl thought about the idea for a moment. Both Autobot and Decepticon alike would mock the humans for their sizes and weaknesses, but they needed them for those same attributes more than most would care to admit. There was something poetic about it, but it was lost on Prowl.
Speaking back up, Jazz continued. “We’ve fought a war for so long our entire society has become consumed with it. Sometimes I worry that when this all ends we won’t know what to do anymore.” Prowl could see Jazz’s hand almost absently beginning to push the snow around. “We won’t be able to rebuild our society because we won’t remember how to do the things we once enjoyed.”
“I bet that worries you more every time we walked into a destroyed building back on Cybertron.”
“Yeah. Used to keep me awake when I should’ve been recharging. Before we came to Earth, I recharged maybe half of the joors I was supposed to.”
“And now?”
“Now I get my full recharge on most nights.”
Prowl once again turned towards Jazz, his quizzical look briefly bringing a smile to Jazz’s face. “You see, Prowl, I think landing on Earth was a blessing for us. I look at these humans and I see a species that managed to hang onto its culture despite the numerous wars. Sure, none of them lasted as long as ours, but some of them lasted longer than their life spans. I think that when the orn comes when we finally defeat the Decepticons we’ll get our cutlture back, even if we don’t know how. These humans will help us remember.”
Comforted a little by Jazz’s story, Prowl smiled. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Well for one, I was aiming for that little smile,” Jazz grinned and Prowl momentarily fought to keep his engine from revving, “but also because I watched some of those shows with Spike.”
Jazz held out his open hand below Prowl’s face, near the flower. In his hand were several tightly compacted cubes of snow. The tactician’s confusion must have shown on his face because Jazz’s smile appeared. The mech pulled away the snow engulfing the flower and into his other hand as he laid down the cubes. The cubes formed a circle around the flower. Although small by their standards, the cubes were almost the same height of the flower.
“According to one of the shows, the humans that live far up north make their homes out of snow. They call them ‘igloos.’ They make their homes out of compacted snow to preserve the warmth from their bodies so they can stay dry and warm. The compacted snow also gives it the strength to keep from being easily knocked over.”
Prowl looked over and saw Jazz crushing the snow with his hands. “I may not have the fine dexterity to pull out a tiny flower, but I can crush the snow and build it a home to keep it warm.”
“I don’t believe flowers give off heat.”
“The bare ground will, or at least enough for a single flower. The flower will be safe.”
Prowl watched as Jazz pressed the remaining snow cubes onto the first set, completely covering the flower. “Thank you,” Prowl said quietly.
“Never a problem, Prowl,” Jazz said just as quietly. The two of them sat in silence as Prowl looked at the tiny house Jazz built to keep Hound’s flower safe. Somehow that tiny house gave Prowl more comfort than news on Hound’s recovery. He had failed Hound in battle, but he would not fail to save Hound’s cherished possession. He would keep it safe until they could finally free it. The small notation melted away Prowl’s pain.
Looking back at Jazz, Prowl could see the worn look in his face and the dimmed optics. “Come on Jazz. I believe it’s time to go in and recharge.” Now it was time to care for his.
---
A/N: As some of you may be aware, the Christmas Rose is most notable for its ability to bloom in the winter, but it's pretty difficult flower to begin with. As I understand it at any rate. Happy New Years!