[fic] It Isn't Him
Title: It Isn't Him
Rating: PG (I'm sticking with it)
Pairing: Prowl/Jazz
Warnings: Same as ever. Hints of slashiness, some angst
Disclaimer: If they only were mine, but sadly they are not.
Author's note: Follows Be quiet, still and solitary and The silence of our friends
I'm not so happy with this part, but I'm sure I'll say that about every part. You people with your wonderful supportiveness make me want to write things (thanks, I like writing) and then *gasp* post them. I'm equally nervous every time.
And about this particular fic. Considering that until now I've gotten by with two mentions of Prowl's name I think this part makes it clear that we're talking about Prowl here. That would be Prowl, yes. And Jazz really loves his Prowl (though I've still to mention Jazz's name once). Because he's the ever amazing Prowl. Yes, I feel I might have gone a bit overboard making those things clear.
Once every Earth day he comes here. Only once, just after sunrise. Only once because if he came more often, he surely couldn’t make himself leave. But he has to come, even though it means leaving the work he hasn’t yet had time to deal with. There always seems to be more work than there’s time to do it in. He has to wonder how Prowl always managed it all, but then he always knew Prowl was special. He’s Prowl after all.
So he comes here, every day. He comes because he has to make sure. He has to know that Prowl is still here. Every time he looks at the black and white chassis that was Prowl, that Ratchet is still making repairs on, he can feel that unnatural stillness, the cold and quiet. That isn’t his Prowl.
It’s Prowl’s body, processor, battle computer, logic centre and all, but it’s not Prowl. There’s no spark in there. That is held in stasis elsewhere, waiting for Ratchet to finish his repairs.
If he had ever needed to wonder what it was about Prowl that he loved… Prowl’s sense of loyalty, duty or any of the qualities which make him a good commander and a wonderful friend. Things that most mechs simply do not seem to see in him.
If he ever had wondered he wouldn’t need to anymore. He loves all those things about Prowl and wouldn’t change a single thing. His spark however will always recognise Prowl’s spark, no matter the time, the place or the body.
So he comes here, once every morning, to make sure Prowl’s spark is still there. And he prays that Ratchet will finish his repairs in time, because he can feel the spark fading. He prays that it’s not too late, because while he will love Prowl no matter what, he hopes that when he wakes up he’ll still be the Prowl he was before.
Rating: PG (I'm sticking with it)
Pairing: Prowl/Jazz
Warnings: Same as ever. Hints of slashiness, some angst
Disclaimer: If they only were mine, but sadly they are not.
Author's note: Follows Be quiet, still and solitary and The silence of our friends
I'm not so happy with this part, but I'm sure I'll say that about every part. You people with your wonderful supportiveness make me want to write things (thanks, I like writing) and then *gasp* post them. I'm equally nervous every time.
And about this particular fic. Considering that until now I've gotten by with two mentions of Prowl's name I think this part makes it clear that we're talking about Prowl here. That would be Prowl, yes. And Jazz really loves his Prowl (though I've still to mention Jazz's name once). Because he's the ever amazing Prowl. Yes, I feel I might have gone a bit overboard making those things clear.
Once every Earth day he comes here. Only once, just after sunrise. Only once because if he came more often, he surely couldn’t make himself leave. But he has to come, even though it means leaving the work he hasn’t yet had time to deal with. There always seems to be more work than there’s time to do it in. He has to wonder how Prowl always managed it all, but then he always knew Prowl was special. He’s Prowl after all.
So he comes here, every day. He comes because he has to make sure. He has to know that Prowl is still here. Every time he looks at the black and white chassis that was Prowl, that Ratchet is still making repairs on, he can feel that unnatural stillness, the cold and quiet. That isn’t his Prowl.
It’s Prowl’s body, processor, battle computer, logic centre and all, but it’s not Prowl. There’s no spark in there. That is held in stasis elsewhere, waiting for Ratchet to finish his repairs.
If he had ever needed to wonder what it was about Prowl that he loved… Prowl’s sense of loyalty, duty or any of the qualities which make him a good commander and a wonderful friend. Things that most mechs simply do not seem to see in him.
If he ever had wondered he wouldn’t need to anymore. He loves all those things about Prowl and wouldn’t change a single thing. His spark however will always recognise Prowl’s spark, no matter the time, the place or the body.
So he comes here, once every morning, to make sure Prowl’s spark is still there. And he prays that Ratchet will finish his repairs in time, because he can feel the spark fading. He prays that it’s not too late, because while he will love Prowl no matter what, he hopes that when he wakes up he’ll still be the Prowl he was before.