To Love A Stranger (15/17)
"Who are you?"
Prowl paused, then slowly he set aside the data pad he had been reading and turned to face Jazz squarely. He had been expecting this question ever since the medic had allowed him into Jazz’s room. "I am Prowl."
"Which I've figured out means exactly nuthin'." Jazz snapped, frustration and anger coloring his voice. He had thought he knew who Prowl was, thought he had the mech basically figured out. Shy, quiet, gentle, very smart- and not all that bad on the optics to top it all off. He had been looking forward to making his bonding with the Praxian mech as true in deed as it was in name. Now he wasn't so sure.
The cool, deadly mech that had come out under fire scared Jazz. Prowl, who wouldn't even order a servant to bring him energon when he was practically starving, had single handedly taken over and coordinated a unit of Enforcers. He had planned and executed, on the fly, a strategy that had kept the riot in check until back-up could arrive. And after they had both arrived back at the compound, that Prowl had vanished as suddenly as he had appeared, replaced by the mech Jazz knew.
Motion as Prowl held out his hands, palms up and pleading. "What do you want, Jazz?"
"I wanna know who ya are." Jazz growled. "Yah creators didn't mention yah had Enforcer trainin'. Kinda an odd occupation fer a Praxian noble. Is tha' why they don' wanna have anything ta do with ya? Or-."
"They are not my creators."
Whatever Jazz was going to add was temporarily lost in shock, his mouth hanging open as he tried to process that. "Say what?"
"Lord Streetwise and Lady Amethyst are not my creators."
"But…but they- you-the bonding-."
"You negotiated for a member of the ruling family of Praxius." Prowl explained, his frustration and anger finally breaking even his iron control He was tired of the deception, of the lying by omission and technicality. He had run the numbers and he knew the odds. The truth was likely going to destroy everything that he cared about, again. But he was done with the lies and half truths. "Not for one of the Lords’ creations, just a member of the family. My carrier was the sister of the current lord."
Jazz stared at him, but one word stood out to him. "Was?"
Prowls’ head jerked in a stiff nod. "She returned to the Well not long after I separated."
"Yer sparker?"
"Who knows?" The bitterness in Prowls’ voice cut Jazz. "If the Lord of Praxus knows he has never said. And now you know as much as I."
Jazz continued to stare at him, so Prowl elaborated a little more. "I was raised as an orphan among the servants and eventually sponsored with the Praxian Enforcers. My entire life- until I was sent here."
When Jazz said nothing Prowl stood and headed for the door. He paused for a moment in the doorway without looking back as he added. "I am sorry, my lord, that I am not what you were looking for."