Seeing and Believing 4/6
Verse: G1
Characters: Prowl, Jazz
Pairings: Prowl/Jazz
Rating: PG-13 for mild slash and violence
Warnings: erm... impromptu surgery and laying the smackdown on a Con?
Summary: When you're as different as Prowl and Jazz are, working together becomes an interesting prospect
Notes: This was written at a time when just about everyone was debating the matter of Jazz's optics/visor. The theories were everything from them being green/gold/magenta/neon orange, to being Decepticon-red, to him being blind, to the visor being his visual center. I never bought into any of those. So this was written partly to counter all those theories.
Disclaimer: I don't own them, they own me.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Prowl wasn’t sure he heard his partner right.
“Jazz, don’t be silly, we don’t have the time to search for the Decepticon medbay and locate an extra pair of optics,” he said. “We need to get to their Command Center.”
“I know that,” Jazz replied. “And I wouldn’t put ‘Con optics in ya either. Red just ain't your color. Thought we established that when you lot were under Megatron’s control and ya tried t’kill me.”
Prowl winced. “Please don’t bring that up. Then what do you propose we do?”
“There’s a chance Screamer might be only partly right. That only your optic lenses burnt out in the flash, and the wiring itself is still working. Have ya tried powering them up?”
“No. I shut down my visual center soon after the initial flash to minimize damage.”
“Well, try it now.”
Prowl did as he said and to his relief found that the circuitry to his optics still worked, and that it was just the scanners themselves that were burnt. “I believe you may be correct, Jazz.”
“Groovy. Now don’t move. Can’t afford t’frag this up.”
The tactician felt the saboteur’s fingers gently trace around his optics, and stilled. “Jazz, what are you doing?”
“Do ya trust me, Prowl?”
Something stirred in Prowl the moment the question was asked. Something he’d suspected had been there all along, but he’d been hesitant to give voice to it or even consider it a possibility… till now.
“With my spark.” If Jazz had picked up on it, he didn’t know, but Prowl felt as if a load had been lifted off his shoulders. “Yes, I trust you.”
“So do I,” came the simple reply, after a moment.
Then something beeped in Prowl’s processor, warning him that his optics had been removed. For a moment Prowl wanted to panic, ask Jazz what in the Pit he thought he was doing, but he kept silent.
“She was a pretty femme - the medic who treated me after my accident. I can’t recall exactly, but I think her name was Signal. She sounded Praxian, but she may have only trained there as far as I know.” Jazz was speaking softly and Prowl had to strain to listen to him. “She taught me how to disconnect and reconnect my optics if I ever came across a better pair and wanted to switch out my old ones and ditch the visor.”
Suddenly Prowl could see through his left optic again, and he looked down at Jazz in shock. The saboteur had his visor off and was looking back at him with one pale blue optic and one of Prowl’s burnt ones. Prowl felt a surge of mixed emotions go through him when he finally realized what Jazz was doing.
Unable to get the words out just yet, he leaned and kissed Jazz softly.
“I know I’ve always wanted to see your optics, but I never imagined it would be like this,” he said. “You know you’ll be blind if you go through with this.”
“I know, but my job’s done. I sprung us outta jail. Now it’s all up to you to hack into that system and get those blueprints,” Jazz replied. “I’ve been blind before, literally and otherwise. Not all my missions relied on sight. Anyway, sounds’re more my thing; don’t always need t’see to get around, and my navigation still works, so I can guide ya.”
Something occurred to Prowl then. “Without working optics, how will you see to install the other one in me?”
Jazz smiled. “Praxian-trained medic. She fixed and reconfigured my circuitry according to what she knew. And you’re Praxian, too, aren’t ya?”
“So you figure the wiring sequence and configuration in my optics are the same as yours?”
“I don’t figure, babe. I know they are.” He looked down and disconnected his other working optic and Prowl winced. “C’mon, last one.”
Prowl relented, feeling more than a little guilty about what Jazz was having to give up just for him, and held still as the saboteur swapped their optics. Then the world came back into proper clarity when he powered up his vision again. He took a proper look around the ‘room’ they were in and sighed.
“Trust you to pick a storage closet, Jazz,” he said.
The Porsche looked up at the sound of his voice and grinned despite the cold, dark optics he wore. Prowl touched gently under them. Sometimes he felt Jazz gave up too much for him.
“One more thing,” Jazz said. He reached up and slid the visor into place over Prowl’s optics. “Just ‘cause you’re usin’ ‘em doesn’t make ‘em any less sensitive. The hall’s bright outside…. Heh, you wearin’ my visor. Wish I could see it.”
“I’ll take a picture for you when we get home,” Prowl promised. “Now let’s get out of here.”
Jazz nodded. “Coast is clear.”
They stepped out into the hallway and Prowl was immediately thankful for the filter of blue over his optics, even though he was still quite not sure why. He glanced at Jazz and was shocked to see a trickle of energon running down the side of his face from just above his right optic.
Now that he could see again, his fear that Jazz had taken one too many blows to the head was confirmed when he saw Jazz walk. The saboteur was definitely off-balance, though Prowl was only able to tell thanks to his long-standing relationship with the other mech… but there was no time to worry now.
Prowl took point, but it was Jazz who mostly gave him the directions and Prowl had to wonder just how many times Jazz and his agents had been in and out of the Nemesis on missions to know the way so well.
It was strange for him to see the world literally through Jazz’s optics. Everything took on a tinge of blue through the visor and Prowl wondered how Jazz compensated for certain colors. Did he even see true colors?
He dispelled the thoughts. Jazz functioned perfectly normally, and it was disrespectful on Prowl’s part to keep thinking his partner was handicapped. Perhaps that was why Jazz chose to keep his optics hidden - because of mechs like him who would think this way.
Jazz touched his arm and brought him out of his thoughts. “Take a right. You’ll come to an elevator that’ll take us to the upper decks.”
Prowl shook his head, but did as Jazz instructed. “How do you even know all this? Yes, I know you said you’ve been here more times than you can count, but how are you able to tell our precise location to know we’re nearing a turn that will take us to an elevator?”
They stepped into said elevator and Jazz told Prowl to press the button for the third level - second was all residence quarters. He had a little smile on his face.
“There’s an air-vent back there that blows slightly colder than the others,” he said. “When we passed that, I knew exactly where we were.”
“That’s it?” Prowl asked. He wasn’t expecting something as simple as a change in temperature.
“Yep. Not everything needs a complex explanation. It’s as simple as sayin’ I love you.”
The elevator slowed and they pressed themselves against the panels on either side of the doors so they would be out of sight in case anyone was standing on the outside of the doors when they opened.
Mixmaster entered and looked surprised to see the two black-an-whites. Immediately he went for Jazz, noting the dead optics and taking a swing at him, thinking the smaller Autobot would never see it coming. The saboteur’s horns picked up the shift in the air instantly and he ducked the blow, allowing Prowl to hit back while Jazz swept his legs out from under him.
The Constructicon went down with a crash that echoed up and down the elevator shaft, and Prowl knocked him out.
“That was not a very logical plan of attack,” the tactician commented, stepping over the green-and-purple form and helping Jazz out. “With you already somewhat incapacitated, he should have come at me first.”
Jazz shrugged and stopped out of habit to listen for any other noises aside from the elevator going back down to the lower levels. “Makes sense to a ‘Con, I guess - kill the weakest first.” He nudged Prowl to walk. “C’mon, gotta move fast. Someone would’ve heard that.”
==========
Enjoy!
Characters: Prowl, Jazz
Pairings: Prowl/Jazz
Rating: PG-13 for mild slash and violence
Warnings: erm... impromptu surgery and laying the smackdown on a Con?
Summary: When you're as different as Prowl and Jazz are, working together becomes an interesting prospect
Notes: This was written at a time when just about everyone was debating the matter of Jazz's optics/visor. The theories were everything from them being green/gold/magenta/neon orange, to being Decepticon-red, to him being blind, to the visor being his visual center. I never bought into any of those. So this was written partly to counter all those theories.
Disclaimer: I don't own them, they own me.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Prowl wasn’t sure he heard his partner right.
“Jazz, don’t be silly, we don’t have the time to search for the Decepticon medbay and locate an extra pair of optics,” he said. “We need to get to their Command Center.”
“I know that,” Jazz replied. “And I wouldn’t put ‘Con optics in ya either. Red just ain't your color. Thought we established that when you lot were under Megatron’s control and ya tried t’kill me.”
Prowl winced. “Please don’t bring that up. Then what do you propose we do?”
“There’s a chance Screamer might be only partly right. That only your optic lenses burnt out in the flash, and the wiring itself is still working. Have ya tried powering them up?”
“No. I shut down my visual center soon after the initial flash to minimize damage.”
“Well, try it now.”
Prowl did as he said and to his relief found that the circuitry to his optics still worked, and that it was just the scanners themselves that were burnt. “I believe you may be correct, Jazz.”
“Groovy. Now don’t move. Can’t afford t’frag this up.”
The tactician felt the saboteur’s fingers gently trace around his optics, and stilled. “Jazz, what are you doing?”
“Do ya trust me, Prowl?”
Something stirred in Prowl the moment the question was asked. Something he’d suspected had been there all along, but he’d been hesitant to give voice to it or even consider it a possibility… till now.
“With my spark.” If Jazz had picked up on it, he didn’t know, but Prowl felt as if a load had been lifted off his shoulders. “Yes, I trust you.”
“So do I,” came the simple reply, after a moment.
Then something beeped in Prowl’s processor, warning him that his optics had been removed. For a moment Prowl wanted to panic, ask Jazz what in the Pit he thought he was doing, but he kept silent.
“She was a pretty femme - the medic who treated me after my accident. I can’t recall exactly, but I think her name was Signal. She sounded Praxian, but she may have only trained there as far as I know.” Jazz was speaking softly and Prowl had to strain to listen to him. “She taught me how to disconnect and reconnect my optics if I ever came across a better pair and wanted to switch out my old ones and ditch the visor.”
Suddenly Prowl could see through his left optic again, and he looked down at Jazz in shock. The saboteur had his visor off and was looking back at him with one pale blue optic and one of Prowl’s burnt ones. Prowl felt a surge of mixed emotions go through him when he finally realized what Jazz was doing.
Unable to get the words out just yet, he leaned and kissed Jazz softly.
“I know I’ve always wanted to see your optics, but I never imagined it would be like this,” he said. “You know you’ll be blind if you go through with this.”
“I know, but my job’s done. I sprung us outta jail. Now it’s all up to you to hack into that system and get those blueprints,” Jazz replied. “I’ve been blind before, literally and otherwise. Not all my missions relied on sight. Anyway, sounds’re more my thing; don’t always need t’see to get around, and my navigation still works, so I can guide ya.”
Something occurred to Prowl then. “Without working optics, how will you see to install the other one in me?”
Jazz smiled. “Praxian-trained medic. She fixed and reconfigured my circuitry according to what she knew. And you’re Praxian, too, aren’t ya?”
“So you figure the wiring sequence and configuration in my optics are the same as yours?”
“I don’t figure, babe. I know they are.” He looked down and disconnected his other working optic and Prowl winced. “C’mon, last one.”
Prowl relented, feeling more than a little guilty about what Jazz was having to give up just for him, and held still as the saboteur swapped their optics. Then the world came back into proper clarity when he powered up his vision again. He took a proper look around the ‘room’ they were in and sighed.
“Trust you to pick a storage closet, Jazz,” he said.
The Porsche looked up at the sound of his voice and grinned despite the cold, dark optics he wore. Prowl touched gently under them. Sometimes he felt Jazz gave up too much for him.
“One more thing,” Jazz said. He reached up and slid the visor into place over Prowl’s optics. “Just ‘cause you’re usin’ ‘em doesn’t make ‘em any less sensitive. The hall’s bright outside…. Heh, you wearin’ my visor. Wish I could see it.”
“I’ll take a picture for you when we get home,” Prowl promised. “Now let’s get out of here.”
Jazz nodded. “Coast is clear.”
They stepped out into the hallway and Prowl was immediately thankful for the filter of blue over his optics, even though he was still quite not sure why. He glanced at Jazz and was shocked to see a trickle of energon running down the side of his face from just above his right optic.
Now that he could see again, his fear that Jazz had taken one too many blows to the head was confirmed when he saw Jazz walk. The saboteur was definitely off-balance, though Prowl was only able to tell thanks to his long-standing relationship with the other mech… but there was no time to worry now.
Prowl took point, but it was Jazz who mostly gave him the directions and Prowl had to wonder just how many times Jazz and his agents had been in and out of the Nemesis on missions to know the way so well.
It was strange for him to see the world literally through Jazz’s optics. Everything took on a tinge of blue through the visor and Prowl wondered how Jazz compensated for certain colors. Did he even see true colors?
He dispelled the thoughts. Jazz functioned perfectly normally, and it was disrespectful on Prowl’s part to keep thinking his partner was handicapped. Perhaps that was why Jazz chose to keep his optics hidden - because of mechs like him who would think this way.
Jazz touched his arm and brought him out of his thoughts. “Take a right. You’ll come to an elevator that’ll take us to the upper decks.”
Prowl shook his head, but did as Jazz instructed. “How do you even know all this? Yes, I know you said you’ve been here more times than you can count, but how are you able to tell our precise location to know we’re nearing a turn that will take us to an elevator?”
They stepped into said elevator and Jazz told Prowl to press the button for the third level - second was all residence quarters. He had a little smile on his face.
“There’s an air-vent back there that blows slightly colder than the others,” he said. “When we passed that, I knew exactly where we were.”
“That’s it?” Prowl asked. He wasn’t expecting something as simple as a change in temperature.
“Yep. Not everything needs a complex explanation. It’s as simple as sayin’ I love you.”
The elevator slowed and they pressed themselves against the panels on either side of the doors so they would be out of sight in case anyone was standing on the outside of the doors when they opened.
Mixmaster entered and looked surprised to see the two black-an-whites. Immediately he went for Jazz, noting the dead optics and taking a swing at him, thinking the smaller Autobot would never see it coming. The saboteur’s horns picked up the shift in the air instantly and he ducked the blow, allowing Prowl to hit back while Jazz swept his legs out from under him.
The Constructicon went down with a crash that echoed up and down the elevator shaft, and Prowl knocked him out.
“That was not a very logical plan of attack,” the tactician commented, stepping over the green-and-purple form and helping Jazz out. “With you already somewhat incapacitated, he should have come at me first.”
Jazz shrugged and stopped out of habit to listen for any other noises aside from the elevator going back down to the lower levels. “Makes sense to a ‘Con, I guess - kill the weakest first.” He nudged Prowl to walk. “C’mon, gotta move fast. Someone would’ve heard that.”
==========
Enjoy!