To Love A Stranger (16/17)
Jazz walked slowly down that hall. His hip joint was completely repaired, though still a little stiff, but it was not the joint that was the cause of his slow pace.
His creators had been furious when they had been informed of the truth. Things weren’t quite as bad as they could be- Praxus needed them at least until the unrest settled. After that though, he had heard them talking between themselves when they thought he was gone. Prowl was essentially worthless from a political standpoint.
To anyone else this would have sounded cold, but Jazz knew his creators, and he could read the undertones in their conversation. They held nothing against Prowl. They wouldn’t, not after the way he had saved Jazz and who knows how many innocent civilians that would have been caught in the crossfire of the riot had he not intervened.
Jazz was angry. What he could not determine was who he was angry with. He wanted to be angry with Prowl for leading him on like that. He wanted to be angry with Prowl for lying to him. Yet when he stepped back he had to admit to himself that Prowl had never lied to him.
He wanted to believe that the way Prowl had treated him was a reflection of how the mech felt about him. He wanted to believe that Prowl loved him, as he would now admit that he loved Prowl. The mech had refused to leave him in the middle of a riot when offered the chance to save himself. On the other hand, Prowl himself had admitted that he had been trained as Enforcer since the time he was old enough to enter the service. Protecting people was the hallmark of any good Enforcer.
He sighed, looking around, and flinched in surprise. He hadn't been paying attention to where he was going, but Prowls’ rooms were the last place he had planned to end up. He stared at the door for a long time, thinking. What had started as a political bonding had moved into something more, something he still didn't understand.
Something he had suspected Prowl didn’t understand either.
They couldn't go back, not without opening a rift that might never heal between both city states.
But they could move forward.
He knocked on the door, and fear coursed through him when there was no answer. He knocked again. Had Prowl left and no bothered to tell him? Or had the mech starved himself into unconsciousness again? On the verge of unfamiliar panic, Jazz was already punching in the override code when the door slid open.
Prowl looked at him, his optics and face as blank as the day he had walked down the chapel isle and Jazz had first seen the mech he was to share his life with. Blue optics lowered abruptly as Prowl stepped back to allow Jazz in, retreating to the middle of the room.
Jazz stepped inside, allowing the door to slide shut and finding himself with nothing to speak about, processor skipping back to the first night.
This time it was Prowl who spoke first.
"Is there something I can do for you, my lord?"
"Don't." Jazz snapped. At the look he got from Prowl he elaborated. "The lord of Polyhex is my sparker. I'm Jazz. Just Jazz. Especially to you."
Doorwings flicked, a slight motion, and optics momentarily brightened with suppressed hope.
The blue visor shifted as Jazz searched the room, finally settling on the game board on the side table, still set up from the last game they had played. Prowl had played exceptionally well that round, beating Jazz soundly and causing Jazz to joke about Prowl being a grand master in his former life. They had shared a laugh about that one, the memory of Prowl's small smile and gentle laughter clouding Jazz's processor for a moment.
He studied the board. "This is an old set."
Prowl hesitated, but this was a safe subject. It had always been a safe subject between the two of them. "It is very old. It was given to me as a gift. By someone…someone who cared, a long time ago."
Jazz sat down on his side of the board and started setting it up for a game. "Well…how about you play a game with someone else who cares. And maybe, we can start over?"
Prowl studied the board laid out before him, each piece in it's proper place, fresh for a new start. Slowly he sat down. "I would like that very much…Jazz."