[Fic] Chaos came with a bang, chapter 12
Title:Rating: T
Universe: G1-AU
Pairings: Jazz/Prowl (secret), Ratchet/Wheeljack
Summary: Life in the Ark was often complicated, but things get out of control when Wheeljack and Ratchet are both seriously injured in an accident. Can First Aid save them? Will Sideswipe take on a new career? And in all the chaos will Bumblebee figure out Jazz's biggest secret?
~blah~ is comm-speak ; blah is Cybertronian
Chapter 12: Fraying tempers
Waiting for Jazz never improved Optimus's mood.
As much as he enjoyed the other mech's casual nature in other circumstances - and so often he truly did - when it came to performing his role as a sober and reliable officer, Jazz could try the patience of Primus. In an emergency he was lightning quick, on the spot, right where he needed to be. Any other time it almost seemed like a game to delay just long enough to irritate without being quite long enough to be charged with insubordination, and this time seemed no exception. A full twenty minutes passed between the brief summons and when Jazz appeared at the door and Optimus glared at him as he sauntered in with a cheery wave.
"So what's up, boss bot?"
"Where have you been?"
"Out for a drive." Jazz shrugged, grabbing a stool nd perching on it. "Silverbolt was keeping me company."
"And Mirage?"
"He wasn't wit' me if that's what ya mean."
"He's not in his quarters, nor in the rec room, nor on lookout duty where he is rostered to be. Where is he?"
"He won't be far. I ordered him to stay on base an' he wouldn't leave without lettin' me know. Maybe he missed seein' the new schedule an' thought it was a rest break?"
Optimus had known Jazz for a long time; for nearly as long as he had been Prime, in fact. He liked the smaller mech and he knew Jazz was loyal to the cause, but he also knew the entire ops branch were slipperier than energon goodies covered in oil and they were always up to something. Most of the time he turned a blind optic to it all, but right now too much was spiralling out of control.
"I'm losing patience with this, Jazz. I want Mirage here on comm duty every second shift from now on. When he's off duty, he's to be in his quarters or in the rec room. Nowhere else. Is that understood? I do not need any new crises to handle, and these 'quiet' missions your staff get involved in usually mean injuries. We do not have the capacity to deal with any more injuries, and I do not want to lose any of my soldiers to wounds that could have been avoided. No more bending the rules. Get your team under control."
Jazz's customary smile had dropped away, and he nodded stiffly.
"I'll talk to'em."
"Be sure that you don't push me on this today, Jazz, or I'll have the lot of you thrown in the brig just so I know where you are."
That drew a startled look from his officer, but there was also acknowledgment that he was serious and that was what Optimus needed to see. Which meant he could move on to the next topic.
"Now. What was going on between you and Prowl yesterday? Half the Ark is still buzzing with it, even if the two of you seem to have patched things up."
Jazz looked briefly irritated before he schooled his expression.
With anyone else that would be telling. With Jazz, it could be a manufactured response. Optimus could never be sure and it was always safer to assume the latter.
"He's convinced that the Decepticons attacked three targets yesterday, not just two." his Third responded.
That tallied up with what others had overheard, but it was still quite a reach. Then again, Prowl was not likely to fixate on an idea without some solid evidence.
"What does he base that on?"
"He claims the fact'ry attack was just s'posed t'draw a reaction, otherwise they woulda done less damage and taken more stock before you lot turned up. An' he claims that the attack here was the same, otherwise they woulda sent more'n just Devastator. He thinks there's somethin' else, more important, an' that Soundwave an' Screamer's trine were sent after it."
Optimus raised an optic ridge. He had noticed Soundwave and Starscream's absence, but not that Skywarp and Thundercracker were also missing. That did make it more ominous.
And there was merit in Prowl's suggestion that the Decepticons should have been further along in their raid than they had been by the time the Autobots arrived. And that if the attack on the Ark had been a serious one there should have been more than the Constructicons involved. After all, normally there would have been more than a dozen mechs protecting the Ark, including at least one gestalt and probably the Dinobots too. Unless the Decepticons knew about the accident.
Still, if they had known, why had they not sent more to the Ark? They could not have predicted he would leave the Ark vulnerable. And what of Megatron's taunts about being too late?
"You do not agree with this logic?" he asked curiously.
The annoyance that flashed across Jazz's faceplate looked genuine.
"Oh it's logical enough, he's the logic bot I'll never argue that. But there just ain't no evidence of any other attack. None. An' the plan's too complicated. We all know Megatron usually likes t'pick one target an' hit hard. Even goin' for two ain't that common.
"Besides, what sort of target could he take out with a single trine an' Soundwave? From what I've heard, all o'the cassettes were at the factory, so this third team woulda been under-strength. Starscream's trine don't do quiet ops, they ain't got the patience for it let alone the ability t'keep their mouths shut, so does that mean Soundwave infiltrated somewhere on his own without even Ravage or Laserbeak to back him up? Nah, wouldn't happen. He's too cautious for that.
"Fact is, Prime, I dunno where they all were. Maybe they were all takin' some time on the beach or sulkin' because of the last time we kicked their afts or facin' each other senseless, but they weren't anywhere we know about. I don't know and since you've tied up my team here at base I can't find out, either."
Amd there it was. Optimus had wondered how long it would take to get around to that point. He had not known the rest of the details, but he had been sure Jazz would turn the explanation into some kind of compelling argument to release the strictures placed on his operatives. If he had not been prepared for it, the impassioned speech may even have swayed him. Instead, it coloured the whole argument as a carefully crafted piece of rhetoric and reminded him that Jazz's specialty was in twisting the truth and finding loopholes.
Thank Primus the mech was on his side.
"We will find out in time. For now I want you and Prowl to make sure that others observe the two of you interacting appropriately. I will talk to Prowl about dropping this investigation until we have sorted out the current issue with Ratchet."
Jazz focused sharply on him.
"I'd heard he was online an' talking."
Optimus shook his head.
"It started promisingly, but did not continue to progress that way. Wheeljack became agitated by what he perceived as the wrong treatment, and decided to override First Aid's judgement. His... interference... may have done additional damage, though First Aid is not yet sure. He is giving Ratchet some time to rest before trying again.
"If Sideswipe had been there when it happened it would likely be all over the ship by now, which would not help anyone; as it is, we have a small window of opportunity to get this sorted out before anyone realises that there is a problem. I need your team reinforcing that image. In the meantime First Aid wants to speak to you. Why, he did not say, but I suspect it is to do with Ratchet's files."
"Wait a sec, boss, just what'd Jack do? I can't see'im doin' anythin' to hurt Ratchet, he loves the mech!"
Optimus sighed.
"There was a disagreement over pain blockers, and Wheeljack insisted on having his way. The result was unpleasant. But that is classified information: I do not need any rumours circulating that Wheeljack made things worse. He's in his quarters to rest, and he's not to be disturbed. I trust that that will be the story everyone knows."
Jazz nodded.
"Course. I'll see to it. So does First Aid want me now?"
"He said it was not urgent, but make yourself available to him. And get Mirage back where I can see him. And stop arguing with Prowl."
Jazz grinned cheekily, back to his usual insouciant self.
"Will do, chief. Anythin' else?"
Primus save him from strangling this bot.
"Stay out of trouble!"
Wheeljack fidgeted, unable to stay still but too uncomfortable to pace for very long. He didn't have to be that way, First Aid had been keen to ensure he was pain-free, but he had been more interested in getting Ratchet awake. His pains were nothing until he could talk to Ratchet and apologise for what had happened.
His CPU kept replaying the moment that the shelf had collapsed. Ratchet had grumbled so many times over the last few weeks about the stupidity of overloading the storage space, and had warned of dire consequences if anything fell on him during one of his naps. Well now it had, and it had been far worse than Wheeljack could have imagined. A simple collapse would have been shrugged off so easily: the medic would have been slightly dented and very cross. But instead Ratchet had nearly been killed, was still in such an awful condition, and it was all his fault.
Shuddering, Wheeljack ignored the pulling of the temporary plating in his side and curled up tightly on his recharge berth. His empty recharge berth. Would it be empty from now on? He had no doubt that Ratchet would survive this: the stubborn old mech could not be taken down so easily, especially with everyone relying on him the way they did. So Ratchet would return to the Autobots, whole and grumpy and unbreakable as ever. But that did not mean that he would return to Wheeljack, that was another matter entirely.
It was not like the medic had ever said he loved him, he fretted. Getting Ratchet to just recharge in his presence had taken vorns of patient arguing, and even now he tended to return to his own quarters to rest after they interfaced. The medic was oddly chary of intimacy, and this would set them back again.
Wheeljack's feelings for Ratchet had built up over time, and it had caught him by surprise the first time he realised that he wanted more from their interactions than just friendship. Having realised it, though, he accepted it without question. He wanted no-one else and was willing to do whatever it took to convice the other mech of his sincerity. Which proved far more difficult to do than he might have imagined.
Initially the medic had taken his expressions of love as a joke. Then, when he persisted, had flatly turned him down. It was not shyness - Ratchet was never that - and nor was it prudishness - the CMO had had various lovers over the vorns, and had made no secret of it - but no real explanation was ever tendered. When he did finally consent to interfacing he had not been hesitant, nor had it felt like it was forced, but still he remained aloof at all other times and he flatly refused to take the next step to spark energy sharing.
Wheeljack had accepted what Ratchet was willing to give, certain that eventually he would find a way to break through and win the other mech's trust. Yet had he just lost that chance forever? Ratchet could hold a grudge even longer than Sunstreaker and he had never been that keen on the relationship to begin with.
Slag it all to the pit, he had to talk this out with him. That was why he had used the pain blocker, to clear Ratchet's processor long enough to talk. But it had all gone horribly wrong, and he had no idea why.
He knew that First Aid had not wanted him to do it, but the trainee was barely more of a medic than he was and with far less experience. It should have worked. Shut down the input feeds and everything should settle, that was how engineering worked, so why had Ratchet become hysterical?
It made no sense that he could build a frame from nothing at all - as he had with the Dinobots - and yet once they were sparked he no longer understood how their systems worked. Drones worked exactly as you built them, but use that same design for a mech and you could get all kinds of illogical responses. That was what made medics so special. They understood those illogical systems, and could get them to do what they should.
Medics. Ratchet. He had to talk to him. It was all as simple as that - he had to apologise, and beg for forgiveness. He had to have Ratchet back. He loved him too much to be able to bear the separation for long.
Summoned to Jazz's office for the second time that day, Bumblebee was a little surprised to see not only Hound but also Smokescreen and Trailbreaker already assembled there. The latter two were officially Prowl's staff, though they also occasionally helped out with operations in the field. It was the sort of group meeting that usually preceded a major mission, but hadn't they just been told that all missions were off for now? He nearly made a light-sparked comment about what was coming up when he registered Jazz's glower from behind the desk and made a quick switch.
"Uh, am I late?" he asked, going for the charming cuteness that got him out of trouble with most mechs.
No-one here was impressed by the act, least of all the CSO.
"Not as late as Mirage." Jazz informed him shortly.
Bumblebee tried to hide his nervousness under that steely gaze, wondering if Jazz already knew what they were up to and was about to bust them before they'd learned anything at all. Not that there was anything new in that. Yet why would it make Jazz so angry and why involve everyone else?
Bumblebee had been supposed to rendezvous with Mirage ten minutes ago, but the spy had never turned up. Nor had he gone to his rostered duty station, so Bumblebee had covered for him in the hope of meeting up with him there. But then Optimus had come to the lookout wanting to speak to Mirage and he had seemed very displeased to find Bumblebee there instead. Prime had tried to get Bumblebee to admit that Jazz had asked him to cover for the absent spy, but the cute act had made him desist and he had headed off. And now Jazz had called them all here.
Where was Mirage?, he wondered They had split their two targets between them: him monitoring Prowl from his duty on the comm station in the Command Centre (swapped with Fireflight who had been more than happy to rejoin his brothers in the skies); Mirage watching Jazz.
It should have been easy work: Jazz would either have gone to the rec room to be with the others waiting for news, or to his quarters to rest. A novice could have managed that task, let alone someone of Mirage's calibre. While waiting for the spy to appear he had rationalised that Jazz had probably caught him and set him on a different task, but that did not explain Jazz's impatience now.
Finally after two breems of waiting Jazz stalked to the door and locked it - using the totally unnecessary motion to heighten the tension quite effectively - then turned back to look at each of them in turn. Only when he was done, with no indication if he had found what he was looking for, did he return to his position behind his desk and glare at them.
"This is gonna stop. Right now." he growled, none of his usual humour in his tone. "The last two days've been stressful enough, I don't need to be worryin' about you lot actin' like a bunch of rank amateurs!"
Hound, Trailbreaker and Smokescreen all looked completely surprised and perplexed by this sudden outburst, Bumblebee noted, but then that hardly meant anything. His own expression mirrored theirs, but they were all fairly good at hiding the truth when they wanted to. Perhaps it had not been a good idea to do this right now, after all.
"Hound." Jazz snapped suddenly. "You were told not to wander, but I've heard from Silverbolt that you and Beachcomber crossed the boundary repeatedly to continue checking on the garden Carly set up."
"The plants needed watering." Hound protested. "We weren't..."
Jazz was not listening.
"Trailbreaker. Blockin' the cameras in the hangar bay so Warpath could brawl wit' Sunstreaker."
Bumblebee frowned, ready to protest. Sunstreaker hated being confined, and was spoiling for a fight while waiting for his twin to come out with some news, and Warpath was always up for a round and was tough enough to take it. And as for blocking the camera, well that was common enough down there and the officers usually turned a blind optic to it so long as no-one ended up off the duty roster. Jazz had even done it himself, now and again.
"How much damage did they do to each other?" Jazz was continuing icily. "And which of'em broke an energon line? You thought no-one would find out? What part of this situation do you not understand: we don't have any medics to spare for minor repairs! An' Smokey. The less said about what you were doin' earlier, the better. It stops. Now. Right?"
The psychologist quailed, shuffling back a few steps, and nodded hurriedly. Jazz glared at him a moment longer, then turned to the last mech in the room.
"Bumblebee."
The scout braced himself for whatever was coming. He didn't know specifically what the mech had on him, but he did know he'd been doing all sorts of things that weren't part of their brief right now. But Jazz just looked at him for a long moment before shaking his head and looking back at the others.
"I've just come from Prime's office where he pretty much tore off my spoiler for not keeping you lot in line. An' he's slaggin' serious about it. He's threatened to throw all of ya in the brig if any of you step out of line again before Ratchet's back on his pedes, an' prob'ly me in along wit' ya! Now I dunno what's set him off, but he's convinced we're running a class 1 op under his nose and he wants it stopped. I can't tell him we're not, I'd tell'im that even if we were an' he knows it, so he won't ask and he wouldn't believe me if he did. He just wants to be able to see that we're all here, one hundred percent visible until this situation ends.
"So that's our mission. From this moment on, you're gonna be as visible as you can get. The more mechs around you, the better. When you recharge, do it wit' your current sparkmate, or at least in your own quarters where you can be found if Prime decides to go lookin' for you. Which he prob'ly will.
"Do your own shifts, and then either volunteer for extra duty on anythin' other'n patrol or go to the rec room where you can be seen. Don't even go to the washracks on your own, and for pit's sake don't decide you need some space. This is a mission, and you're gonna handle it professionally. All of you know your roles. Which leaves us with only one problem: Where is Mirage?"
Bumblebee winced as his boss bellowed straight at him.
"I don't know. He was supposed to meet me before his shift on the lookout started."
Jazz stared at him again, his expression neither accusing nor disbelieving, just focused, and Bumblebee squirmed.
"Didn't you see him?" he tried.
Jazz's glare intensified, then he waved a hand at the group without shifting his gaze.
"You lot, out. You've got your orders. Bee, stay right there."
The others filed out of the room, none of them looking back, and the door was closed. Then, just as he expected to be either lectured or interrogated, Jazz made an audible comm connection.
"Jazz to Prowl."
There was a pause of nearly twenty clicks before the response came.
"Prowl here."
"Where are ya?"
"In our quarters, where I told you I would be. Has something happened?"
"I need that roster back." Jazz said lightly, his voice not betraying his dark expression at all. "Prime wants me to change it again."
"Then come and get it." Prowl suggested reasonably. "It's still here on my desk where you left it, I haven't had time to work on it yet."
"I gotta talk to First Aid." Jazz argued. "I'll send Bee for it."
The suggestion seemed to surprise the SIC.
"Bumblebee? Jazz, why...?"
"He'll be along in a minute. Thanks Prowl."
Jazz cut the connection, then glowered up at Bumblebee.
"Right. Now why don't you tell me how Raj ended up locked in wit' Prowl in my room. An' make it snappy; Prowler don't like t'be kept waitin'."