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Baby Bone Lullaby	By : paw07 Category: Transformers > Transformers: Animated > Slash - M/M Views: 2664 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
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Chapter List
- 11
- 12
- 13
Chapter 12: Spark Ache
Jazz’s hands were twitching. Ultra Magnus was mad. Optimus had some kind of stress attack a few Mega-cycles ago (apparently his spark had had some kind of freak out, nothing serious) and was in the infirmary being dotted over. The space colonies were mad because their requests weren’t falling through the proper communication chains. And basically, the whole building was pissed because Communications … it wasn’t happening even with every minute Jazz could spare to help Cliffjumper with paperwork. Jazz had actually had to stop Ultra Magnus from going down to Sentinel’s office himself and demanding why there were errors in the paperwork; why emails were all that were allow; why there were no meetings attended and why Sentinel allowed no one in his office.
Personally, Jazz was only mad because Cliffjumper hadn’t reported when Sentinel had gotten back into the office. He was due back Mega-cycles ago. In fact, he was due back around the time Optimus had had his collapse. Jazz hadn’t been nearby when Optimus collapsed but Ultra Magnus apparently had had a scare. He had never heard the old mech raise his voice before but apparently that old mech could call for a medic. It seems that, while Ultra Magnus and Optimus Prime were heading through the main lobby, Optimus had suddenly stalled and grabbed at his chassis with a cry of pain. He then collapsed without further warning.
That had been a drama filled day.
Breathing, trying to not let anger overcome him, Jazz turned the corner and stalled for a moment, frowning. Cliffjumper looked terrible. He was typing away like a madman and there was this ringing from multiple lines demanding his attention. Unicron’s beard, this was a mess. Yes, he was helping with emailed cases but he never imagined that Cliffjumper was this strung out.
Jazz’s lip couldn’t help but twitch in irritation.
Why wasn’t Sentinel helping him with this mess?
Coming up to the other’s desk, he watched Cliffjumper’s face fall, his optics looking tired and worn. He even swallowed nervously before he asked, ignoring the phones, “W-what can I do for you today, Jazz?”
Frowning hard, the ninja-bot grumbled, “Red, I thought I asked you to give me the low down when SP, I mean SM, came back. Where is he? Why isn’t he helping you? Is he even in his office or is he at home, moping still? He could get a dishonorly discharged if he doesn’t get back here and clean up this mess.”
Optics going wide, hands staling, Cliffjumper wanted to lie. He wanted to protect his superior… but he couldn’t protect a mech he wasn’t even sure was an Autobot anymore. Swallowing, feeling tired, Cliffjumper admitted, “He’s not in his office.”
Jazz’s lip twitched, anger bubbling in his spark. He was still a little angry over the whole hammer incident, but he knew that now wasn’t the time to confront Sentinel about his behavior while he was Magnus. Right now, the younger mech needed a little support, his dream torn from him. And maybe a swift kick in the aft. But, honestly, sometimes the things a person wants most isn’t what they should have.
Sighing, feeling defeated, Jazz asked, “Is he hiding out in his flat?”
Cliffjumper wilting even more. Frankly, he could no longer find a reason to lie for Sentinel Minor. So he didn’t.
“He’s not at home.”
Optic’s twitching behind his visor, Jazz wanted to be angry at the ex-Prime’s behavior but he kept his cool, “Then where is he? He’s not passed out drunk on some foreign beach, is he?”
So tired, so dragged down and exhausted from all the extra work he really didn’t have the clearance or expertise to do, Cliffjumper broke down, begging almost, “I don’t know! I don’t know where that jerk he is. I went to his flat and had the door opened and nothing was missing. Most of his things seem to be there. I’ve checked every day and there’s nothing but dust there! I even tracked down his flight ticket and the hotel and the resort he was going to …”
Cliffjumper was now rambling on, his frame was shaking in so much rage that he hadn’t even noticed the horrified expression that was slowly overcoming Jazz’s face.
“… And the local Prime for that colony and no one has seen him! They said he didn’t even get off the flight. I don’t even think he got on the flight! I don’t know where he is! I just thought he was drunk this whole time and … and,” Cliffjumper met Jazz’s gaze, his tone suddenly become soft and tired, “I thought he abandoned our beliefs … until I search his flat again. His weapons were all there as well as a large amount of credits and long-term necessities. I don’t know why he didn’t bring his weapons. A good soldier always takes his weapons … W-what if something happened to him? What if the Cons go him? What if he ran off? What if he did something stupider then getting drunk on a beach?!”
Looking at all the paperwork on his desk, Jumper sagged back into his chair, looking vorns older than he was, “I don’t know how to deal with this.”
Jazz, his mind running over a few worse case scenarios, struggled to keep calm, to tell himself not to depend too much on CJ’s words thought a part of him knew that Cliffjumper was correct. After all, he was a Communications Officer. Jumper knew how to research and collect information, that was what Communications did, so his reason for panic was justified.
Calling upon an inner calm so he wouldn’t completely freak out, Jazz walked behind the red mech’s desk and placed a gentle hand on the other’s shoulder.
“Cool your jets, CJ. I’m sure there is a reasonable explanation for this. Just give me what you’ve researched already and I’ll double check everything before we call in the fire-trucks, kay?” asked Jazz calmly though his spark was jumping around like a firework lit inside.
Trying to ignore the CJ comment, for he did not need any nicknames, Cliffjumper nodded his head and then quickly started pulling up the information he had, his spark a little calmer … if only because he had someone to panic with.
…
The evidence was not good, to say the least. CJ, a nickname that Cliffjumper stated he didn’t want, deserved to be in communications. He was great at collecting data and deserved his post. Yet, even though secrecy and information protection was something required of Communications, this was something that CJ should not have kept to himself after he discovered that Sentinel had never made it to his intended destination. So, there were a lot of worse case scenarios running rampant in the ninja-bot’s mind but he did not want to give any of them life until he was sure.
After all, Sentinel could have jumped ship early with a stewardess somewhere and was too busy being stranded and drunk to care about e-mails from his underlings.
Though, as much as he wanted to believe that it was something that simple, a deeper part of Jazz was convinced it was not. Sentinel never left his weapons. He might not have had the post he did or the clearance that he once did but he was still an important mech. Why would he leave the planet defenseless, with no way to defend himself? Who would leave their apartment without at least their basic weapon?
Something was wrong. Something was terribly wrong which was why he was taking a lesson from Cliffjumper and was not going to make the same mistake. He wasn’t going to keep this to himself. He needed help … though he was going to ignore the Big Guy if he could help it which was why he was heading to Optimus Prime’s hospital room. He had visited the other day and the Prime looked good after his collapse despite an occasional wince due to a sore spark. Luckily, the attack wasn’t life threatening from what the medics could tell, but Ultra Magnus would not allow his Second out of that medical berth until they knew why Optimus collapsed in the middle of the floor clutching at his chassis as if he had been stabbed.
Honestly, Jazz really didn’t want to call in a favor while a mech was on medical leave but Optimus did have higher standing then him and more power … enough power to get a few other Primes to do as he asked as discretely as possible. There was still the possibility that Sentinel was drunk somewhere.
Struggling to press on his usual grin, Jazz nodded to some passing nurse-bots who giggled as he walked by. He might have even called after them and hit on them a little but he had more important things to worry about … like not freaking out on the poor bot behind this very door.
Sighing, his engine feeling overheated, Jazz quickly knocked on Optimus’ door. He almost jumped though when Optimus finally called out, “Come in.”
Opening the door, glad to have someone to share his burdens with, Jazz nearly broke down into a fit when he opened the door only to find Ultra Magnus sitting next to Optimus’ berth side. The big man certainly was concerned about his next in line, almost dotting. It was like he had always wanted Optimus to have the status of Second … and that Sentinel had merely been just acceptable but nothing more. Not that Ultra Magnus was forward with his favoritism but sometimes one could just tell.
“Oh, hey, Ultra Magnus. Optimus, I didn’t know you had guests. I will come back later than you cool cats,” grinned Jazz, trying not to sound disappointed or out of character.
Optimus, always cheerful and sometimes a little dull witted given his good side, merely stated from his berth, “No, stay. Ultra Magnus just decided to give me support … my test results are in and Ratchet’s off planet so I needed someone around in case it is something … negative.”
Jazz wilted, suddenly feeling like the scum of the cosmos. Here Optimus was, terribly stressed and tired and shaken, and he was trying to call in a favor. Yes, he wasn’t there when Optimus collapsed but he knew that the mech had had chassis pains even after the initial attack. Some would have thought it was a spark attack if OP wasn’t so young.
Pressing down his guilt, Jazz tried to lay on his usual charm, “Prime … you’re going to be just fine. A fine lanky mech as yourself. The medic’s going to say drink this sludge, sleep for three Mega-Cycles and then go dancing … You’re stressing yourself out.”
Optimus offered a nervous smile at Jazz’s calming charisma though Ultra Magnus kept his usual stern visage. Not that Jazz was insulted by Ultra Magnus’ reaction. That was just how he did things.
“That would be great … Regardless though, why are you here? You look a little downtrodden Jazz. Do you have something you need?” asked Optimus, his eyes drawn to the digi-file in Jazz’s hands. It was now second nature for lower ranks to come to him with paperwork that needed to be signed.
The ninja-bot looked down at the file CJ had given him, suddenly feeling kind of sick. He could not lay this on the kid’s shoulder’s right now, even though Optimus had been a good friend to SM … especially with Big Blue sitting right there. He personally wanted to keep this issue from the commanding officer for as long as possible, if not forever.
“Nah, OP … just some files.”
Ultra Magnus though had known Jazz far too long to fall for the ninja-bot’s ruse. For mere paperwork Jazz would never bother an ailing mech. Something was up with the usually charismatic mech.
Knowing that he had to take action or lose the chance with the fast-legged ninja-bot, Ultra Magnus spoke.
“If it’s something important Jazz, do not feel ashamed to ask. Optimus is merely on berth rest, he is not dismissed from duty, and if it’s something I can do in his stead I would be happy to,” said Ultra Magnus, kindly and professional as always as he sat back in the waiting chair.
Jazz had to struggle to keep his grin from faltering. Yeah … that would not end well.
Quickly pulling his smile back up, Jazz pretended to care little for the file as he slowly started back towards the exit. “It can wait, big man. I’ll just be goin’.”
Magnus gained a slightly irritated glare as he spoke coolly and quickly before the saboteur could make a dashing escape, “Jazz … Please give me the digi-pad. I would hate for something that requires attention to be ignored.”
Jazz, halfway through the doorway, stalled and turned around, smiling in order to continue the ruse, still backing out of the door, “It’s not being ignored. I’m given it all my loving attention. So, get better Prime. Talk to you later Magnus.”
“Jazz …” said Ultra in his no-nonsense voice, his deep voice stalling Jazz’s steps completely. “Don’t make me make that an order.”
Jazz swallowed, feeling two sets of blue optics burrow under his armor. Ultra Magnus rarely spoke in that tone and if he didn’t think of something fast … Sentinel was as good as discharged. Luckily for the ninja-bot, a distraction walked right into him, the medic bot nearly causing both of them to fall to the floor.
It was Optimus’ med-bot.
“Oh, oh, excuse me,” said the med-bot, his door wings rising in surprise as he stepped to the side so Jazz, accidently trapping him in the room. “I didn’t know Optimus Prime had guests. I can come back later.”
“That won’t be necessary,” said Ultra Magnus as he rose to his feet, towering over his elusive ninja-bot, his tone not demanding but chilly. “We came here to support Optimus, didn’t we Officer Jazz? Whatever the news might be.”
Jazz tried not to pout as Ultra gave him that almost bored look. Most would think Ultra Magnus was just stiff but no … his optics could bore into a soul with that look and when Ultra placed a hand on Jazz’s shoulder, directing the ninja-bot to the now-empty chair, Jazz knew a confession was at hand. Shoulder’s sagging, feeling like Sentinel would never forgive him for this, Jazz gave a stiff nod and choked as he sat in Ultra Magnus’ chair, the Magnus towering over him like an old guard dog, “Yes, I came to support Optimus Prime.”
“That’s wonderful to hear,” said the young medic warmly thought he did give Optimus a taunt smile as he asked, “Are you sure that you want them to hear your diagnosis though, Optimus Prime?”
Giving a waning smile, he nodded from his berth, “It can’t be that bad … can it?”
The young medic offered no smile as he shut the door behind him, pulling out a digi-pad which undoubtedly had OP’s diagnosis on it. Rip Joint, the medic, sighed and stood at the foot of Optimus’ berth, the Prime sitting up though he had been instructed to rest until a diagnosis could be obtained.
Trying to act as professional as possible, Rip Joint came out with the basic truth, usually very blunt, “It was bond shock which caused you to collapse. It was likely a weak bond considering there is no damage or scarring to your spark or spark casing. Overall, the backlash from the damaged bond caused your spark to sputter and shut down your systems. Nothing deadly but you will be sore which means no sexual spark activity for a few orns until the shock wears off and then you should be fine. In fact, you are fit for duty thought I wouldn’t recommend any epic battles until your spark calms down.”
Jazz actually choked at the news, feeling like he had just been punched in the abdomen plating. His words were a weary whisper as his thoughts immediately turned to Sentinel … and the worst case scenario. “You mean someone offlined.”
The medic, giving a grim expression, slowly nodded, “Yes … that can be the case.”
“But,” said Optimus as his face dragged into a horrored expression, part of him watching Jazz cover his own face as if in misery. “I don’t have a bond-mate. I’ve never even been w-with a femme or mech t-that intimately.”
Shifting on his feet, the medic throwing glances at the slowly decaying Jazz, he added, “Well, sometimes bonds form just from being with someone for a long time like brother bonds or caretaker bonds.”
A terrified expression quickly covered Optimus’ face as if the medic had just told him his creators were dead. Noticing that he was about to have two panicking mechs in the room, the medic struggled to find the words, “B-but it can also mean that a developing bond was almost extinguished and not necessarily was. Like I said, there is no way to tell since the bond was still in its developing stages, weak from lack of contact. All I can recommend is that you contact anyone that you’ve been intimate with or anyone you’ve spent a long amount of time with … to make sure they are still alive, I mean alright.”
Optimus could only sit back against his berth, stricken with the thought of who it was. Who had he loved just enough to forget so easily? Elita? Was it backlash from Prowl? Who could it be?
A sniffle from Jazz seemed to answer his question as the mech broke down into his sorrows, his engine hiccupping as tears started to stream from under his visor. Ultra Magnus seemed flabbergast for a moment as his usually upbeat soldier did a complete one-eighty for bad news that wasn’t even meant of him.
Optimus, meanwhile, could only stare in dismay wondering why his new friend was acting this way, but before he could even ask Jazz what was wrong, Ultra Magnus got down on one knee and tried to console his soldier, asking softly, “Officer Jazz, what is it? What’s wrong? This is not like you.”
Jazz, his mind positive that SP had passed away without anyone even noticing except for an aching spark, couldn’t even find the words to speak. Instead, for what do the dead need with a reputation, Jazz slowly offered up the file to his superior.
Ultra Magnus, pulling away from his soldier, shared a confused look with Optimus before he turned on the file. There was a moment of stony silence before Ultra Magnus sighed and gave Jazz a tired and exhausted look, “Jazz … don’t worry. I’m sure Optimus’ spark attack has nothing to do with this. I’m sure Sentinel is fine.”
Optimus, on the other hand, felt like he had been stabbed in the spark again as his superior said his old friend’s name. It was then and there that Optimus knew the bond’s name and who it belonged to. It had belonged to Sentinel and now it was probably quiet forever.
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Baby Bone Lullaby