[Fic] The gift of hope
Title: The gift of hope
Day: 25
Prompt: Hope is born in the most unlikely of places
Verse: Bayverse with G1 Jazz (lines up with my fic “Primus blessed”)
Rating: G
Words: 999
Other Characters: none
Warnings: none
Summary/Notes: G1 Jazz’s first Christmas in his new home. Written for the prowlxjazz community "Delightful December" challenge, 2010.
His companion was gone from his side when he came online, and Jazz tracked him up a steep hill through the snow only to be summarily told to remain at a distance and wait quietly.
An hour went by, the wind dying down, the sky lightening as dawn approached until finally the first rays of sunlight appeared.
“Merry Christmas.” he offered.
The words garnered no response, so he tried again.
“Prowl, what...?”
That earned him a hushing gesture and the other mech continued with his work.
Jazz stared out at the snow-covered landscape slowly being illuminated around them. So isolated from everything, it was simple to believe they were the only two functioning beings on the planet. Not that that was at all true; this planet was teeming with organic life.
Jazz had always liked to learn about the local customs of the planets they visited. Few species had lifespans as lengthy as his race, and so the very few Cybertronian commemorative dates tended to be too far apart to be enjoyed by others. Given the casualty rate during some periods of the war, even other Cybertronians could not be sure they would be around to see the next celebration. It was easier to take on the local customs and enjoy.
And this particular custom, he had loved from the moment he learned of it.
He was not a hundred percent sure about whether Jesus had actually been the son of the human God but a birthday celebration was reason enough, and the ideas of giving gifts and being together and doing charitable things - the spirit of Christmas, as it was known - that suited him just fine.
Prowl had always avoided the main party, making a brief appearance so that Optimus did not order him to attend (as had happened the second year) then disappearing off on his own. It was the most restful day of the year, he confided once. By evening there was drunken stupidity to counter and pranksters to chide and messes to clean up, but during the day it was peaceful.
And then later, in the early hours of the morning when the troublemakers were in the brig and most others were charging, the two of them would have their own private celebration of love and joy. For a few years it had been perfect.
But things had gone badly. The war had gone on, and mechs had died.
Prowl had died.
That thought still made Jazz’s spark ache sharply, and he saw his companion glance towards him anxiously and he waved it off with a reassuring smile.
This was Jazz’s first Christmas without Prowl, but with Prowl.
The sharp-edged armour and silver colouration and heavy build were becoming gradually more familiar, though he thought he might never quite lose the expectation of turning to see sweeping black and white sensor panels and the crimson of a tapered chevron. They were both still coming to terms with this other who was almost but not quite their lost beloved.
“There.” Prowl announced finally. “Now you may approach.”
Walking forward, he found that Prowl had removed the snow from one side of a large boulder and had carved some glyphs into it.
Jazz grimaced. He still struggled to assimilate the strange writing of his counterpart’s culture. Their coding, language and programming were so very different to his own that even after months of analysis he was unable to write a comprehensive conversion program. Which meant he had to learn to read and speak that language in the same way as organics did: through study and practice.
“What’s it say?”
“Try.” Prowl prompted him. “I used the simplest forms, you know all these words.”
Sighing, Jazz turned to the carving and this time looked at it properly. To his surprise, unlike their normal complex layout, these glyphs were arranged in short lines, ready to be read without first interpreting the order. Encouraged, he started from the opening symbol at the top.
“Time... no, a time. A time for... peace you bring me peace... wait, it’s a poem?”
“Your Christmas gift. Can you read the rest?”
He worked it out silently, stringing the words together until he had it all and was sure it was right.
A time for peace, you bring me peace I feared was gone
A time for joy, you restore the joy I thought was lost
A time for love, you show me I can still love
A time for hope.
The pain is not gone, but there is hope now you are here.
“Prowl, it’s beautiful.” he whispered, tracing careful fingers over the carefully created shapes.
“When you said this human celebration was special to you I decided to find out about it. Mikaela told me it was about hope. And you, Jazz, are my hope.”
Jazz offlined his optics for a moment.
He had come here on the strength of the hope that this strange world could give him some tiny measure of peace. He had claimed he was here to start again, but in truth he had spent all his time comparing and contrasting this reality with the one he had lost, rather than appreciating what he had been given.
His Prowl, as much as Jazz had adored him, would never have written him a poem.
Could he do this? Could he really fall in love again? If he was being honest, wasn’t that what he was here for?
Onlining his optics again he turned and smiled at Prowl who was watching anxiously.
“I don’t deserve the faith you got in me.” he admitted. “But I’ll work on it, cause you’re the only hope I got left.”
“That’s all I ask.” Prowl assured him. “Now, do you want to go back to celebrate with the others? I think Bumblebee has organised something.”
“Nah,” Jazz interrupted him, sliding an arm around Prowl’s waist and hugging him close, still staring at the gift, “I got all the celebration I need, right here.”
Day: 25
Prompt: Hope is born in the most unlikely of places
Verse: Bayverse with G1 Jazz (lines up with my fic “Primus blessed”)
Rating: G
Words: 999
Other Characters: none
Warnings: none
Summary/Notes: G1 Jazz’s first Christmas in his new home. Written for the prowlxjazz community "Delightful December" challenge, 2010.
His companion was gone from his side when he came online, and Jazz tracked him up a steep hill through the snow only to be summarily told to remain at a distance and wait quietly.
An hour went by, the wind dying down, the sky lightening as dawn approached until finally the first rays of sunlight appeared.
“Merry Christmas.” he offered.
The words garnered no response, so he tried again.
“Prowl, what...?”
That earned him a hushing gesture and the other mech continued with his work.
Jazz stared out at the snow-covered landscape slowly being illuminated around them. So isolated from everything, it was simple to believe they were the only two functioning beings on the planet. Not that that was at all true; this planet was teeming with organic life.
Jazz had always liked to learn about the local customs of the planets they visited. Few species had lifespans as lengthy as his race, and so the very few Cybertronian commemorative dates tended to be too far apart to be enjoyed by others. Given the casualty rate during some periods of the war, even other Cybertronians could not be sure they would be around to see the next celebration. It was easier to take on the local customs and enjoy.
And this particular custom, he had loved from the moment he learned of it.
He was not a hundred percent sure about whether Jesus had actually been the son of the human God but a birthday celebration was reason enough, and the ideas of giving gifts and being together and doing charitable things - the spirit of Christmas, as it was known - that suited him just fine.
Prowl had always avoided the main party, making a brief appearance so that Optimus did not order him to attend (as had happened the second year) then disappearing off on his own. It was the most restful day of the year, he confided once. By evening there was drunken stupidity to counter and pranksters to chide and messes to clean up, but during the day it was peaceful.
And then later, in the early hours of the morning when the troublemakers were in the brig and most others were charging, the two of them would have their own private celebration of love and joy. For a few years it had been perfect.
But things had gone badly. The war had gone on, and mechs had died.
Prowl had died.
That thought still made Jazz’s spark ache sharply, and he saw his companion glance towards him anxiously and he waved it off with a reassuring smile.
This was Jazz’s first Christmas without Prowl, but with Prowl.
The sharp-edged armour and silver colouration and heavy build were becoming gradually more familiar, though he thought he might never quite lose the expectation of turning to see sweeping black and white sensor panels and the crimson of a tapered chevron. They were both still coming to terms with this other who was almost but not quite their lost beloved.
“There.” Prowl announced finally. “Now you may approach.”
Walking forward, he found that Prowl had removed the snow from one side of a large boulder and had carved some glyphs into it.
Jazz grimaced. He still struggled to assimilate the strange writing of his counterpart’s culture. Their coding, language and programming were so very different to his own that even after months of analysis he was unable to write a comprehensive conversion program. Which meant he had to learn to read and speak that language in the same way as organics did: through study and practice.
“What’s it say?”
“Try.” Prowl prompted him. “I used the simplest forms, you know all these words.”
Sighing, Jazz turned to the carving and this time looked at it properly. To his surprise, unlike their normal complex layout, these glyphs were arranged in short lines, ready to be read without first interpreting the order. Encouraged, he started from the opening symbol at the top.
“Time... no, a time. A time for... peace you bring me peace... wait, it’s a poem?”
“Your Christmas gift. Can you read the rest?”
He worked it out silently, stringing the words together until he had it all and was sure it was right.
A time for peace, you bring me peace I feared was gone
A time for joy, you restore the joy I thought was lost
A time for love, you show me I can still love
A time for hope.
The pain is not gone, but there is hope now you are here.
“Prowl, it’s beautiful.” he whispered, tracing careful fingers over the carefully created shapes.
“When you said this human celebration was special to you I decided to find out about it. Mikaela told me it was about hope. And you, Jazz, are my hope.”
Jazz offlined his optics for a moment.
He had come here on the strength of the hope that this strange world could give him some tiny measure of peace. He had claimed he was here to start again, but in truth he had spent all his time comparing and contrasting this reality with the one he had lost, rather than appreciating what he had been given.
His Prowl, as much as Jazz had adored him, would never have written him a poem.
Could he do this? Could he really fall in love again? If he was being honest, wasn’t that what he was here for?
Onlining his optics again he turned and smiled at Prowl who was watching anxiously.
“I don’t deserve the faith you got in me.” he admitted. “But I’ll work on it, cause you’re the only hope I got left.”
“That’s all I ask.” Prowl assured him. “Now, do you want to go back to celebrate with the others? I think Bumblebee has organised something.”
“Nah,” Jazz interrupted him, sliding an arm around Prowl’s waist and hugging him close, still staring at the gift, “I got all the celebration I need, right here.”