[Fic] Chaos came with a bang, chapter 16
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 16: The moment of truth
First Aid heard voices as he came online, but that was not at all unusual so he ignored them. He had four brothers, and there were always at least two up before he was. Partly that was his schedule: Ratchet did not trust him alone on call yet, so his shifts were always daylight ones. They might sometimes stretch on late into the night, but they never started early, and right now it was early: his internal chronometer told him that.
Even before he turned on his optics this time, he knew he had not had enough rest and he vaguely considered just re-initiating his charge protocols. What stopped him was an alert on his HUD; it seemed he had left his diagnostic module running, and it was listing half a dozen problems with his system relating to lack of recharge and a need for fresh energon in his system. He would have to visit the rec room before going back into charge or he would only wake up again shortly. He looked for his charging alert to see how much time he had left between now and the start of his shift, but couldn't find it. Strange. He always set an alarm, why hadn't he done so this time?
And then reality came crashing back and he jerked upright to stare about.
He wasn't in his quarters with his brothers, he was still in the repair bay; he was still the acting-CMO; Ratchet was still laid out as a critical care patient on the second berth in the main room. He was currently in Ratchet's office, sitting in front of a diagnostic display that was far more complex than anything he had yet learned to interpret. Exhaustion had clearly gotten the better of him.
Focusing on the screen, he checked his notes then finished the sequence that saved it to the appropriate file. This was one of the many scans that Ratchet had had him run. The senior medic had barely glanced at them, sometimes announcing that one had to be repeated, or that another could be discarded as irrelevant. Then he had ordered First Aid to sort by type the ones he was happy with and save them onto a datapad ready for quick reference.
Reconnecting Ratchet's diagnostic processor without accidentally routing power to one of the damaged areas had been fiddly, and the older medic had been impatient with his instructions, but once it was done it seemed to work just fine. Too well, he suspected, since Ratchet had gone very quiet for a few moments after that while going over the scans First Aid had already taken. And then he launched into this flow of complicated diagnostics. Still, although First Aid was still worrying that it was a bad idea for the patient to know too much about his own condition - one of Ratchet's own rules - it was a relief to be able to follow orders again. Being solely responsible with something so far out of his experience had been frightening. Clearly he needed to study harder to make sure he was never caught so unprepared again.
Shaking off his thoughts, he downloaded the results back into a datapad and hurried out into the main room to find Jazz and Ratchet talking quietly.
"...you're absolutely right - it's a stupid idea." Ratchet was grumbling tiredly. "The two situations are completely different."
"You were still offline at the time." Jazz pointed out, nodding slightly to First Aid to acknowledge him. "We were lookin' for any solutions available an' he thought it might bring up somethin' useful."
"Hmph. Well you can tell him to stop it. Sounds like everyone's gone fritzy since I got hurt."
Jazz smiled.
"I'll tell'im you said that. Now, Prime said somethin' about you wantin' Hound?"
"Yes. I suppose he's been sent to the moon or somewhere equally inconvenient?" Ratchet asked sourly.
"Nah, he's just waitin' outside. But we ain't sure what you want him t'do."
Ratchet began to grumble something about not being questioned, but First Aid abruptly realised why the older medic wanted the scout.
"It's for his holograms." he said confidently, stepping forward. "He can model the damage in 3D so Ratchet can look at it."
"Riiiight." Jazz grimaced. "Think I'll leave y'all to it, then. Good to see you functionin', doc. Catch you later."
He left, but Ratchet focused sharply on First Aid, apparently concerned.
"When did you come online? What did you hear of that conversation?"
"A few clicks ago. I only heard the last few statements: Jazz believed he had found a solution but you did not think it was viable."
Ratchet relaxed.
"Right. Do you have those scans? Good. Show me."
Optimus stopped just inside the closed door to his office, took one look at the pile of reports waiting for him on his desk, and groaned.
For a moment, he wondered what it would be like to be Megatron. He was certain the leader of the Decepticons did not spend joors dealing with data the way he did. Of course Optimus himself usually diverted most of it to his subordinates, who in turn delegated a proportion to their underlings, and so on. But right now the most senior of his officers were all problematic.
Ratchet, of course, was completely incapacitated, but now it seemed that Prowl had had one of his breakdowns in the rec room. And Jazz, who would normally pick up the slack willingly, was infuriated by the restrictions placed on his team and had been impossible to track down. Oh he had not left the base, but he appeared to be using all of his skill to remain publicly visible but also to make sure that Optimus could not find him short of sending out a base-wide summons.
Nearly a full hour of futile searching for his TIC meant that it was not just coincidence. Not with someone of Jazz's skill; Prime just didn't believe it.
Perhaps he should relent and relax the restrictions, he mused. The ops team had always been a law unto themselves, and Jazz was just the latest in a succession of commanders who kept far too many secrets. The initial order had been a reaction to the crisis at hand, just a spur of the moment decision. If not for Jazz's stubbornness, he would have revoked that order by now. The problem was, he hated knowing there was something going on and not knowing what it was, and that summed Jazz's team up completely. He never knew what they were doing, or why, or whether Jazz knew about it or not. Sometimes the special ops officer seemed just as surprised by his staff as Optimus was, and that was a worry. Of course, that could just be acting on Jazz's part. Even so, it bothered him.
For a start, the team itself was... odd. Mirage's placement was obvious given his specialist mods, but Jazz almost never seemed to give him any direct orders unless they came from Optimus himself; otherwise the spy seemed to just wander about at will. Hound was much the same. He was an excellent scout, but what did he do from orn to orn? He was away from base for joors at a time with no explanation and produced no formal report that Optimus ever saw. Meanwhile Smokescreen and Trailbreaker were officially Prowl's staff, but they seemed to spend more time reporting to Jazz than to the tactician. And then there was Bumblebee.
The minibot's connection to the ops team had come about initially because neither Prime nor Ironhide wanted Bumblebee too close to the fighting before he could defend himself, and there was usually at least one Special Ops member back at base at any given point in time who could watch over him. They were all good bodyguards, and keeping the youngest bot safe had been the primary goal.
Then Hound had started training Bumblebee as a scout, which seemed sensible enough at the time. He was never going to be a melee fighter and his sniping ability was mediocre, and since he was possibly the last sparkling the Autobots would ever see everyone was keen to see him settled in a slightly less front-line position. Over time Bumblebee had proven himself a willing and capable warrior, frequently found to fight alongside the other minibots, or even the twins, and able to hold his own in any situation. But he was loyal to Jazz just the same as the others, and always looked completely confused when Optimus suggested a team change might be good for him.
A knock on the door reminded Prime that he was still leaning against it. Stepping quickly away from it, he turned and allowed it to open only to find Jazz reaching to knock again. The saboteur blinked, probably a bit startled to find him right in the doorway, then cocked his head to the side.
"Got a minute, boss?"
Fighting the urge to grab him and haul him inside for his insubordination - succeeding only because he didn't actually have any evidence that Jazz had been deliberately evasive - Optimus nodded shortly and headed over to his desk.
"Come in."
Jazz padded inside, his usual energy missing from his step as he sat in a chair. The problem was, it could all still be an act. With Jazz, nothing was ever certain.
"Got a coupla things t'tell ya." Jazz admitted. "First up, I was the one that let Jack outta his room. I know you put him there, but I had a talk to him and I don't think he'll be a problem anymore. He's just fritzed over what happened. Second, you heard about Prowl?"
Optimus nodded, and Jazz sighed, rubbing at his visor absently.
"Guess that explains his fixation on this crazy 'third target' theory. You really don't wanna know where that was goin', trust me. His theory was weird enough to make Red's paranoia look normal. He hasn't blown any circuits though, thank Primus, he just needs to recharge. That's what Ratchet told him before all this happened, an' he didn't get enough rest then, an' he ain't had much since. The up side, if there is an up side, is that it didn't get so far that his battle comp took over. I'll keep an optic on him, an' I've started some rumours about his collapse bein' just because he's tired - which is actually true this time - so we're covered. What else? Oh.
"Third, what the slag are you tryin' t'do, sayin' you want me to shift out? Officers quarters are the only ones that Grapple soundproofed an' you know I like t'have my music up when I'm chillin' out. If I'm anywhere else you're gonna have noise complaints, and I'm gonna direct 'em straight at you. Now if you wanna move Prowl out, that's your business, but that's my room an' I'm stayin' there. An' for the record, I've never had any problem sharing quarters wit' Prowl. He's a neat freak an' borin' as waitin' for a coat'a paint t'dry, but he puts up with me so I put up wit' him. Sides which, I hate gettin' used to new roommates. Messes up my internal sensors; I keep comin' back online thinkin' someone's sneakin' around, an' with my trainin' I usually find I've got them at gunpoint before I even register who they are so they'd prob'ly jus' be on at ya t'send me away again, quick enough. Prowler at least knows how t'stay outta my way. He even rosters it that way.
"Fourth, I'd appreciate it if you didn't make me change the rosters again for at least a couple of joors. Mechs all over the Ark keep glarin' at me an' it's gettin' a bit worn."
He paused, swaying a little even as he sat there, then shook his head as though to clear his processor.
"An' fifth an' last, I guess I gotta put myself on report for lecturin' a superior officer. Can't get Prowl t'do it wit' him laid up like he is, so can I just do a verbal or you really want it in writin'?"
Optimus smiled in spite of himself.
"Transgression noted. In your defence I suppose I would point to abnormal stress as a mitigating factor. Shall we let it go at that, or do you really want me to punish you?"
Jazz gave him a wan smile.
"If I can do the punishment while rechargin', go for it."
"Go and recharge. I'll put Perceptor on watch in your place."
Jazz's gaze sharpened.
"I thought 'Ceptor had other duties?"
"You have a problem with that? What exactly happened in the repair bay that has you and Prowl so riled up at him?"
Jazz sighed.
"Aid had to kick him out even before they started working on Ratchet, and then he just hid in his quarters. Didn't come out to help against Devastator. Didn't come out when you lot all got back. An' then had the base metal to claim it was our fault for assignin' him a task he wasn't suited to." He paused, thoughtfully. "Prob'ly didn't help Prowl's temper, actually. I wonder what he assigned as a punishment."
"You left it to Prowl, then?"
Jazz looked at him innocently.
"He reports to Prowl."
In other words no, but Jazz had no intention of explaining what he had done.
"Well I'll leave that situation to the two of you." Optimus dismissed the matter. "But I need a senior on duty, so he'll just have to fit in his other tasks around that. Get some rest, Jazz. I'll see you in a couple of hours."
The saboteur left and Optimus looked down again at the pile of reports on his desk, then made a decision. Petty, perhaps, but well within his rights.
"Optimus Prime to Perceptor. Report to my office: I have some work for you."
"Jazz?"
He groaned as he felt the recharge cable being disconnected. Surely this was a joke?
"This'd better be really good." he warned.
There was no immediate answer to the threat, but then he felt a warm and very familiar body fitting itself smoothly against his own. Onlining his optics, he dimmed them again almost immediately as Prowl leaned down over him to press their foreheads together in the traditional gesture of intimacy.
"You're needed." the tactician apologised, even as his proximity stirred Jazz's circuits.
With anyone else the move would have been contradictory to the words - a wordless request to remain berth-bound and share more than just the surface they laid upon - but he knew better. They had learned vorns ago that between bondmates physical contact was the quickest way to boost flagging energy levels, and what Prowl was doing now was helping him to get up.
In only a few clicks, Jazz felt himself restored enough to carry on: it was only a temporary fix, but it would do for now. Even so he held out for a moment longer, savouring the feel of Prowl's body in his arms. Primus, there just had to be time sometime soon for more than a cuddle or he was going to go insane.
/Me too./ Prowl admitted, frustration leaking briefly through the bond before it was hidden again.
Somehow that helped, knowing he was not the only one suffering, and he sighed as he gave Prowl a weak push to prompt him to move.
"Alright, I'm up, I'm up. What's goin' on, anyway?"
"First Aid has been operating. Prime wants us present when he brings Ratchet back online."
Jazz toyed with the charging cable for a moment, feeling Prowl's bleak mood at that statement.
The necessity of their presence was simple to determine: if this had gone poorly, Prowl would have to begin developing new strategies and to begin the transfer of Ratchet's security access to First Aid. As for himself, he would have to find a way to maintain crew morale in the face of one of the worst catastrophes the Autobots had ever suffered. Knowledge was power, and the better the spin on a bad situation the less likely things would get out of hand.
"Shouldn't it take a bit longer to get that done? They won't miss me for a bit yet, will they? Not really."
Prowl simply looked at him and Jazz sighed and rose.
"Alright, I'm comin'. Lead the way."
They left the room together, walking in silence through quiet corridors. Unusual for this time of the day and he wondered whether there had been some kind of mass revolt from the crazy rescheduling that had been going on. He smiled at the thought, then sighed as he heard noise down a corridor to his left. Most mechs were probably back in the rec room, awaiting the news, he realised. It had become almost a tradition over the past few days, even though this time Sideswipe would not be there to report back. He would have to take on that duty himself, good news or bad.
"Problem?" Prowl asked, not slowing or looking at him.
"Nah." Jazz shook his head. "So. What's the deal? Why's Aid rushin' ahead with this?"
"Ratchet had developed a surgery plan and was unwilling to delay the procedure."
"Is Jack helping?"
"I believe he is present, but only as an observer."
"Better'n nothing. He's doin' it rough at the moment."
"His concern for his sparkmate is predictable." Prowl began mendaciously.
"He wants more." Jazz said lowly.
Prowl glanced across at him curiously at that comment but did not ask, and then they were out of time. Moving into the med bay, they found that the surgery was clearly complete. Wheeljack was hovering anxiously near the repair table where Ratchet was lying, still offline. There was still a gaping hole in the medic's head that made Jazz grimace to see it, but the trailing wires and tubes now seemed to be properly connected to various pieces of medical equipment rather than hanging loose, and First Aid did not seem concerned as he sorted his instruments into piles. Prime stood at the foot of the berth, watching as they entered, and Prowl led the way towards him.
"My apologies, Jazz, I suppose I found a punishment for your misdemeanours after all."
Prowl twitched at that, probably wondering what he had missed, but Jazz just shrugged.
"Fair enough, boss. So, Aid, how'd it go?"
First Aid looked up, his expression tense.
"As far as I know, it all went to plan. This was only the first of the five stages, but it's the one part where things could go very wrong. If this bit did not work, he'll never fully recover."
There was a couple of clicks of agonising silence, then Jazz stepped over to the nervous Protectobot and put an arm over his shoulder.
"You're good at your job, Aid, an' he trusts you. It'll be fine."
For a moment he thought the young medic was going to break down completely, but then the mech stiffened and straightened.
"Well of course it will be. There's no reason why it shouldn't. Now, I should bring him online. Excuse me."
First Aid turned to begin the activation sequence, and Jazz caught Prime's approving nod. Well, as morale officer it was his job. Still, he prayed to Primus he was not going to have to go back to the rec room in a few clicks and begin damage control.
"Alright." First Aid announced. "His systems are starting to reboot. We'll know in the next two minutes."
Please, Primus, Jazz begged. Please let this work.