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Life is a Tree	By : CGH Category: Transformers > Transformers: Animated > AU/AR Views: 2358 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers: Beast Wars, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Life is a Tree
- 2-Ch 2
- 3-Ch 3
- 4-Ch 4
- 5-Ch 5
- 6-Ch 6
- 3
- 4
- 5
Blind.
Falling rendered him blind.
Jazz fought down panic as distant memories of steam, tools and motor oil crashed through his mind. He was flawed now. Flawed...
The flux made his face itch and stung the exposed neural wires in his eye sockets. How strange that the void he saw wasn't completely black. It was like a flat curtain of the deepest blue stretched between him and the world. This curtain faded to black towards the edges with speckles of maroon and white static seemingly projected onto the blue area from somewhere over his shoulder. It was probably his visual processors getting feedback from his damaged photo-receptors--basically, he was "seeing" the pain of his injury.
"We have to find a way out of this mine. Jazz, listen to me." Prowl grasped his arm, jarring the memories away. "I will teach you methods of surviving without your sight, but you have to pay attention and do exactly as I say. I can get us out of here, but only if you learn to function as a blind mech until your sight is restored. Trust me and you'll survive."
Jazz shook his head, but stopped when doing so made his broken optics ache. He was terrified to take even a step and risk falling down another hole. "Y-you've done this all your life. It's what you know. I don't know this..."
"You have to learn!" Prowl growled, "Now pay attention. Can you hear the hole?"
"N-no! I don't know!"
"FOCUS, Jazz!" Disembodied hands grasped his cheeks, pulling him forward. "Jazz. Jazz, you need to focus. I can not magically restore your sight. There is no quick fix. You must adapt! You still have four working senses. Use them. Now, can you hear the hole?"
Hearing Prowl raise his voice shocked Jazz to silence. Prowl was right...no miracle solution. Getting past this dilemma meant facing it head on. No shortcuts, detours or back roads. He quieted his intakes and tilted his head towards the strange rushing sound somewhere above. "I hear a whooshing noise."
"Yes. That is your first landmark. Now, we're going to walk to the wall directly beneath the hole. Count the number of steps it takes to get there."
"Don't let go of my arm!"
"I won't," Prowl said gently, "Now, take it slowly." His feet began to tap and crackle against the ground, tugging Jazz along. "One, two..."
"...three, four, five..." Jazz picked up the count. Every step sent tiny pains through his knee joints. He ducked his head, instinctively trying to see his own feet. Ten steps later, Prowl grasped his wrist and guided it to the rocky wall. There was something gross and slimy in the moist cracks. Jazz's olfactory sensors detected a weird stench. Above him, the hole sounded like a wind tunnel. "Weird, I think I can smell the wall."
"I know. It's algae, a harmless organism that grows in wet places. That means sunlight sometimes enters the hole you fell through. Now, can you smell the water?"
Jazz was once again amazed at how much Prowl knew about their environment without being able to see it. He faced behind him. The water had an obvious odor like wet rocks and algae scum. "Yeah...it stinks."
"That's your second landmark. Now...hold onto my elbow."
Funny, Jazz never paid a lot of attention to the general sound of Prowl's voice. It was pleasant, albeit a tad cold with the same rumble as a metal file. He could actually hear his stern bottom lip naturally pouting out like a tiny cliff. It gave the impression that he always talked through the corner of his mouth--something Jazz never noticed just by watching his face. He wouldn't sound the same without it. This realization made him wonder how much Prowl could guess about a person's mouth just by listening to them speak. Could he tell the difference between a smile, a grimace and a sneer?
"Jazz?" Prowl's voice came out muffled because he was facing the other way. Another correct assessment Jazz was surprised to recognize so easily.
"Sorry. I'm just trying to orient." Jazz grasped Prowl's left elbow in his right hand. Without a word, Prowl started forward and Jazz swallowed another wave of terror. He focused on the sound of their footsteps ricocheting around the room. He could hear their echoes on the far wall. Up ahead, the sound seemed to break.
"Is that an opening?"
"Yes...you can hear it?"
"Yeah, but I'm not exactly sure where it is."
"We're almost to it. Duck down, it's low."
Jazz had visions of a boulder smashing his face. He bent completely forward when Prowl's elbow dropped and didn't straighten until he felt Prowl do so first. This new room loomed around him more than the previous one. Their steps echoed smoothly. The walls here were scraped clean. Feeling the side of the opening confirmed this suspicion. That meant this area had been excavated sometime in the past.
"How come you're so confident in here?" Jazz asked, "You got kinda lost in the forest."
"The forest is outside. These caves are more enclosed--allowing more places for sound to echo. Now, that doesn't mean you rely on me to avoid bumping your head or tripping. I may pass under or step over something you catch, so stay focused. Tell me if you hear something, even if you think I've already noticed. It's possible I may not. I am..." And he paused, as if the next statement physically hurt to admit, "I am not perfect."
"S'okay, Prowl. I'm learnin' as we go." Jazz patted his shoulder, "Remember what I said about nobody bein' without flaw? I meant it. It's okay not to be perfect."
"Thanks."
Jazz grinned despite knowing it wouldn't be seen.
Prowl continued without a word, leading Jazz around a complicated maze of twists and turns.
"Count the turns. They are a landmark."
"Gotcha."
Six twists and then the ground became a shallow incline. Prowl's heels pinged on metal.
"Tracks. This one seems to be the main pathway. Watch your step--they're in ruins." And the sound of shifting rubble attested to his statement. "I'm going to follow this set and see where it goes. We might find a way out."
"Wait," Jazz tugged backwards. He heard a rushing sound to his left, like water falling into a pool. "There's water somewhere. Shouldn't we be following it?"
"It's in another cavern."
"How can you tell?"
"It's obvious. No smell."
Once again, Prowl's lifetime experience in this matter showed through. Jazz tripped on one of the broken cross ties Prowl seemed to step over without a hitch. He regained his footing, sighed heavily and ducked his head. His self-confidence had taken a nose dive.
Prowl stopped walking. He seemed to sense Jazz's sullen mood. Turning around, he lowered his voice to a gentle whisper, "Jazz, I know this is frightening. You are in a situation you aren't accustomed to. Your world is visually oriented. You still think in visual terms, but, now that your optics are broken, you feel lost."
"I'll say!" Jazz sighed, "I don't think I could live this way. No offense..."
"It takes time. It took me time to understand that the rest of the world is a place of color, light and darkness. You've helped me many times to understand the visual world--now it's my turn to help you understand the sensations, smells and sounds of the blind world. You can still do what you did while sighted, it's only the methods in which you did them that need to change until you get your vision back."
"But...again, no offense...I feel so helpless."
"It's natural." Prowl stroked his cheek, "You will be fine. I'll take care of you as long as you help me do so. Listen to what I tell you and I won't lead you to harm."
Jazz couldn't avoid smiling. Prowl sounded so calm, cool and capable. He trusted him with his life. "Guess I better pay attention."
"Good. Now, a word of advice? Don't shuffle your feet. Pick them up. You'll trip less."
Prowl faced forward again, offered Jazz his elbow and resumed his role as a guide. Jazz followed, and this time he made sure to pick his feet up.
.o
Having Jazz's life in his hands made Prowl more nervous than he'd let on. His lights kept bouncing off the metal tracks and creating reflections that generated false readings in his oscillators. He turned them off and resolved himself to his audios and tactile sensors. Every footstep he took let him hear the size of the cavern--a large, uneven room shaped like an irregular crescent. It wasn't always this way. It used to be more open, but, judging by the bones he felt poking through the rubble, Prowl could tell part of the wall caved in long ago.
"Man, what do you think happened in here?" Jazz asked. Scratching noises indicated he was touching the caved-in part of the cavern wall.
"A mining accident. I'd speculate they miscalculated how far they were blasting and it brought part of the cavern down."
"How sad. Hey, hold up. I wanna see if there's a way out over this rockslide."
Prowl stood still while Jazz made the climb. He was proud of his desire to explore despite having no eyesight. Perhaps he'd finally realized that blindness wasn't necessarily a prison.
"Frag." Rocks crackled as Jazz slid back down. His feet twanged against the steel rails behind Prowl. "It's blocked all the way. Some poor human must've tried the same thing. Found a whole skeleton just sittin' up there, waitin' for a miracle."
"Hm...well, I applaud you for making the attempt." Prowl patted Jazz's arm, letting him grasp his elbow before continuing onward.
The tracks split three ways. Prowl tripped over the rusty axel of a mine car, and only Jazz's quick action stopped him from smashing his face.
"You okay, Prowl?"
"Yes. Be careful, there may be more debris on the tracks."
They continued onward, Prowl using his toes to check for debris between each footstep. Occasionally, Jazz found something Prowl happened to step over. Prowl warned Jazz not to move anything he found because it risked them tripping again if they had to retrace their steps.
Something loomed ahead. Prowl stopped walking and Jazz bumped into his back.
"Prowl?"
"The path is blocked." He said. "Stay here, I'll see what it is and find out if there's a way around. Lean on the rocks...it'll feel less like standing in a void."
Jazz's shoulder clanked against the boulder. "Yeah, I'll stay right here."
Nodding to himself, Prowl stepped left, his hands trailing the textured rocks. It seemed to be two boulders that broke and settled after a cave-in. He pressed on until his fingers felt the wooden support frames of the opening. There was hole between it and the wall just large enough for his fingertips to slip through. Prowl kept his hand there, feeling for air movement. There was a cool draft, though faint. He bent down and scanned with his visor. No daylight. He touched the frame again and noticed warping and splintering. The slightest pressure created cracking noises. Pebbles rained down in a miniature rockslide. Not a good sign at all.
"Jazz, feel around the other side of this rock. See if you find a hole we can squeeze through."
He heard the tap of feet, the scrape of armored fingers sliding over rock and a soft clank muffled by the boulder. Wood creaked and pebbles rattled.
"No can do. It's solid here." Jazz's voice grew as he made his way to the exact spot where Prowl left him. "Should we try to push 'em out of the way? I'm stronger than I look--I can probably move these."
"No." Prowl pursed his lips in a frown. "Moving these rocks could bring the rest of this mine down. The frame around this opening is severely warped."
Jazz sighed heavily. Disappointment robbed his voice of its usual sparkle. "I noticed. So...what now?"
Using the boulder as a guide, Prowl walked back to Jazz's side and nudged his hand with his elbow. "This cavern has more than one opening. One might lead to the water you heard."
"Right..." Jazz had his head down again.
Prowl faced him and cupped his cheek, "You're doing fine."
"I'm still scared."
"It's all right." Prowl's feelings for him rose like smoke to color his words, "We're in this together. We'll get out of this together. Just hold onto me."
They about-faced together and retraced their steps. As they walked, Prowl struggled against the bitterness crawling towards the back of his throat. He never had this when he was in Jazz's position--when he was new to a world of frightening sounds, voids and sensation. For a split nanosecond he felt an overwhelming urge to shake Jazz's arm off so he could continue alone. Then guilt overrode that anguish. It wasn't fair of him to take out his anger at society on someone who didn't deserve it.
Besides, long ago, for a few moments, someone did help him. One of his first conscious memories was someone in the scrap yard letting him escape. They could have thrown him back into the compactor--that horrible, crushing thing that smelled like death personified--but they let him go. He always swore he'd love that mech forever if he ever met him again. But those events took place long ago. That bot was executed for letting a flawed mech go free--because by law anybody harboring a flawed mech was as good as flawed themselves.
Still, Prowl found it hard to forget about that idealized fantasy even in the face of someone real that loved him.
"Jazz."
Jazz jerked his head up. "What? Is there a hole? Are we lost?"
"No. Calm down! It's just..." Prowl sighed, "I guess I'm envying you right now."
"Why? I'm a mess."
"You have someone here to help you." The emotion bled into his face until his lips quivered, "I guess I'm...I'm remembering my early life. I gained consciousness in a horrible place. And there was--"
"Hey." He felt Jazz's free hand cup his shoulder and turn him around. "That reminds me..."
"What?"
"Remember that convo we had yesterday? The subject I didn't want to discuss?"
Prowl twisted his lips to the side. Sometimes, Jazz's timing defied logic. "Yes, why?"
Jazz's sigh made his shoulders and hands heave. He sounded as if what would come out of his mouth might set the world on fire.
.o
And that was if Jazz's face didn't burn off first. Why did this memory surface now, of all times? Could be because of the thin, graceful arm in his grasp? He held and touched Prowl's beautiful body many times...so why now? This didn't seem like the time or the place. Then again...this seemed like the perfect moment. They couldn't see each other. Jazz didn't have to watch the pain or anger his words might incur write themselves across Prowl's face.
"Way before I started learning Metallikato, I..." he gritted his teeth, "used to help shut down and clean up the remains of flawed mechs. The statistics about the flawed are lies. It happens way more often than the public realizes...more than half of those stay in one piece long enough to get Sparks. Those were the hardest to put down, to reach in and extinguish those precious little lights while they looked into my eyes. I used to hold their hand while I did it...I wonder how many understood me when I told them I was sorry. I hated it. I saw so much death, Prowl..."
He felt Prowl stiffen and his temperature dropped.
"I was running the compactor one day when I heard screaming. I thought one of the cleanup drones fell in again--they do that a lot--so I shut it off and reached in, and something grabbed my hand."
The events were so clear in Jazz's memory. A plaintive voice screaming across the darkness of one of Cybertron's coldest nights. The steaming compactor stopped long enough for a probing hand to nudge aside detritus and burst free. Jazz grasped it, prepared to twist it right off the arm and discard it, and then the wiry fingers gripped back with such strength that he nearly fell into the crushing machinery. A second hand emerged to feel its brother first, then Jazz's. That hand crept up his arm to his shoulder. The mech--too dirty to identify more than its white fingers--finally grabbed his face and felt it. He didn't have a visor then, but he did wear a tinted facial shield as protection against debris. Its darkness made identifying the flawed mech's face impossible. All he saw was that greasy, oil-streaked palm pressed against his mask.
How ironic was that? Autobots were supposedly programmed to protect life, yet they destroyed the flawed.
He recalled pinning that bot down, forcing its Spark chamber open and feeling for the shutdown switch.
"I'm sorry," he said to it, "I have to do this. I'm so sorry..."
The whole time, thin hands held his wrists, trying with all their might to keep that Spark burning. For such a skinny thing, the flawed bot had an incredibly strong grip.
"...so I was fighting with him...I refuse to call him an 'it'...and he said 'don't!' Perfectly clear."
Jazz felt Prowl's frame stiffen in his grasp. So tense his armor plating threatened to warp.
Memories continued to swallow him.
He never heard one of the flawed speak before--usually the error was in their motherboards, rendering the body unable to process data and thus useless to the Spark. Their eyes would light up and they'd move when touched and pull away from painful stimuli, however, they never spoke or showed signs of cognition. Vegetables, as humans might say. Once in awhile he came across a body with missing limbs or limbs in the wrong locations, but those forms were always lifeless.
This bot was entirely different. A speaking mech was a conscious mech, and in his good conscience Jazz knew he'd never forgive himself if he extinguished a fully cognizant life form.
He let the bot go.
"Hey! You didn't let that slag escape, did you?" Jazz's superior yelled.
"No, sir!" Jazz shouted back. He watched the mech run and his Spark ached. That poor creature would probably be dead in less than a day. The compactor started back up. Metal parts crunched with a painful shriek. Jazz remembered seeing the thin, dirty white figure crawl over the scrap yard wall and--
Prowl's quaking hands cupped his face, cutting off the memory.
"Jazz," His voice was full of disbelief, "...that was me."
Just as he did millions of years ago, Jazz let his hands slip off Prowl's chest. Everything rushed back until the growing silence threatened to swallow him whole. Mech fluid gathered on the flux protecting his broken optics. He didn't know whether the pain he felt was his injuries or the memories.
"That was me," Prowl said again, louder. "Oh, Jazz..."
Jazz touched a shaking finger to Prowl's cheekbone. Words poured out in a flood he could not stop or control. "I--I quit the scrap yard after you spoke to me. I couldn't keep takin' lives like that. Not when I realized I was killing people who were probably normal except for one little mistake in their assembly. I know that doesn't change the fact that I did it." He swallowed a sob, fully prepared to be rejected. "Still want me, now that you know I used to kill people like you?"
There. He'd laid himself out on the chopping block and handed Prowl the axe. It was all up to Prowl, now.
Agonizing silence greeted him. It stretched on and on until hours seemed to pass between seconds. Jazz heard and felt Prowl's intakes hitching. The signals of his internals were confusing. Some ran cold, others were hot, and it made reading his emotions impossible.
"Right..." Jazz's shoulders sagged. He figured Prowl would react this way and the pain of their impending separation tore his Spark in two. "Once we get out of here, I'll pack up and--"
"Jazz, no, you--you misunderstand my silence. It's just...I-I can not believe this..." Prowl made a soft choking sound. His voice muffled as if he'd pressed a hand over his own mouth. "I thought..."
"Prowl?"
Suddenly, Prowl flung himself into Jazz's arms. Jazz staggered back and they dropped to their knees together, embracing amidst the dusty ruins of coal and rock.
"...I've dreamed of this moment my whole life. I even rehearsed in my mind what I'd say if I ever met the mech who let me go that day." Prowl's lips quivered--Jazz could hear it as a faint tremolo in his normally cool, steady voice, and he suddenly realized that Prowl was crying. "N-now--I'm in this m-moment...and I can only think of--of two words."
Jazz let their foreheads touch. Magma burned in the back of his throat and poured its invisible glow throughout his face. He knew there wouldn't be tears, but cupped Prowl's face and wiped his cheeks with his thumbs anyway. "I'm listening."
Soft lips moved up and quaked against his audio. From them, an untold depth of gratitude was born in two simple words.
"Thank you."
The universe stood still for a beat.
Jazz's face contorted as the past and present crashed together somewhere above his Spark. He almost crushed Prowl when he hugged him again. He couldn't believe this serendipitous twist of fate. For years, he wondered what happened to that seemingly helpless creature he set free millennia ago. Now, he wondered no more. He told himself right then that he'd love and protect this being for however long a Spark resided in his body.
"Jazz," Prowl's lips brushed Jazz's throat and cheek. "I know these aren't the best of surroundings..."
Jazz turned his head and their mouths mashed together in a swirl of teeth and tongues. "Yeah?"
A tremble raced over Prowl's frame. "Things like this don't just happen by accident. Fate meant for us to find each other."
"Coincidence..."
"No." There was a creak and warmth bathed Jazz's cheek. "Destiny."
"Prowl--"
"Shh. Just look at me."
"But I can't--"
"Your hands are eyes, Jazz."
Jazz felt Prowl take his hand and guide it towards his smooth face. He brought his other hand up to examine Prowl's stern, pouty bottom lip and its thinner brother. Somehow, his mind produced images of every feature his digits traced. Prowl's chin and his sharp cheekbones were beautiful under his fingertips. He marveled at the curves of his stubby nose and decorative chevron. The spaces where no optics existed--he'd removed his visor--were soft plateaus. With his fingers, he saw how Prowl's lips relaxed and parted in a silent, aching moan. Desire was consuming him and Jazz's hands were spreading the flames.
How Prowl looked didn't matter when he felt so beautiful.
X-ray vision. Jazz mused, tilting his head back with a smile while his palms cupped Prowl's stunning face. He'd never forget this moment. Prowl, you're gorgeous inside and out.
Then Prowl led his hand downward to the parted armor in his chest. The warmth he felt was his bared Spark.
"Jazz..."
Jazz never imagined this moment happening while he had shattered optics and stood in the middle of a dank, dirty, smelly cave...but the joy of Prowl's offering quickly took over. Prowl was "the one" he wanted now and forever, and he'd bond with him in a slimy swamp if Prowl wanted it that way.
Thin fingers grasped his face and pulled him forward into the hot smoothness of an open-mouthed kiss. Prowl's tongue slid across his front teeth and roamed the insides of his cheeks. His kiss was still clumsy, yet in his clumsiness he managed to find every major sensory node in Jazz's mouth and set it on fire. With a moan, Jazz began his own assault, running the sides of his tongue over the bottom of Prowl's. He knew it drove Prowl crazy and enjoyed the shivers he felt race down his lover's frame.
"You scared?" he asked between lip locks.
"A little," Prowl admitted.
"Me, too," Jazz smiled. "Can you hear when I'm smiling?"
"All the time." Prowl's voice sounded lighter, "I'm smiling now...do you hear the difference in my voice?"
"I think so." Jazz used his hands to confirm what he heard. So it was possible to hear a smile. "Ooh, solid."
Prowl kissed him again. "I like your smile, Jazz."
Chuckling, Jazz exposed his own Spark. He was surprised to feel Prowl's fingers trail over his lower body and aft, working their way up his back. Being touched this way excited him--especially when he felt Prowl's thumb lovingly caress the red arrow he knew was painted on his lower abdomen. Lips followed those nimble fingers. They searched, kissed, suckled and drew satiny lines all over his body. Prowl bypassed his port--torture--and paused to kiss his Spark, which made his whole body tingle. Jazz felt him smiling into his chest.
"Now," he whispered, desire dropping his voice almost a full octave. "Please, Jazz, now."
"Let's do an ancient position..." Jazz panted. He bent and exhaled on the sensors surrounding Prowl's exposed Spark, and Prowl bucked in his arms. Smoothly, he went on, "There's one I just read about a few days ago. Wanna try it?"
"A-All right," Prowl was equally breathless. His attempts to sound calm failed utterly, but hearing him try was amusing. "Show me. Please, Jazz," he growled, "NOW!"
"Wow. Somebody's buzzin'." Jazz grinned at Prowl's frenzied state--did he realize how sexy he sounded while this highly aroused? He nibbled his way across Prowl's throat, waiting to see if he'd make any more sexy noises.
"Buzzing is hardly the word for it." He heard Prowl moan, "This may be our--only chance--unh--without interruption. Please, Jazz...make me yours."
"Anything you want," Jazz said slowly--just to drag this out a few moments longer. He spent one more second fondling the lovely jet packs sticking up off Prowl's shoulders. Feeling him squirm without shame was worth it. He sat on his knees and slid Prowl forward, plugging himself into his port. Sparks splashed everywhere like hot magma. Prowl's port was nuclear with desire.
"Oh, J-Jazz!" Prowl's fingers clutched tight.
"Now--wrap your legs around my waist and hang onto my hands. I heard this one makes...ooh..." He had to stop and gasp at the amorous lips tickling his audio sensor, "...makes the first contact between Sparks feel insane."
.o
Humans had a saying-- "If you love something let it go free. If it doesn't come back, you never had it. If it comes back love it forever."
Prowl's dream mech slipped silently back into his life and spent the last several weeks right under his nose.
They were utterly blind to each other until Jazz's words shed the light that let them see. This reunion was too impossible to be a mere coincidence. Destiny meant for them to travel the rest of their lives as one, and Prowl didn't dare wait to bond. If Jazz was called out on a mission the minute he was repaired, Prowl risked never seeing him again. They were in a war. Anybody could die anytime. Prowl didn't see Jazz's point of view before...then he witnessed the fall that nearly killed him and it suddenly became clear.
He refused to take the chance. As Jazz once said, he'd regret not diving in.
"Jazz..." His fingertips found his lover's and interlocked. Their palms pressed together in a shared prayer. Sitting port to port left him shivering like a leaf in a hurricane. He was amazed he could even speak. This state Jazz worked him into made thinking logically almost impossible. He could hear the electrical activity increasing in his systems. It even rattled his oscillators despite their being offline.
And he didn't care...
"It's all right now," Jazz's voice was right in his audio, a creamy column of anticipation that made Prowl want him even more. "They call this 'Taking Flight' because the text says it feels like taking off. Ready?"
Ready? Ready for destiny?
Prowl nodded. "Yes."
Jazz stood up abruptly, lifting their arms above their heads. It did feel like leaving the ground. Prowl fell forward into eternity and love, stopped only by an incredible burning sensation crashing over his processors. He felt Jazz sink back to his knees in one smooth motion--but Prowl's elation was still soaring high above the sky. He wrapped his arms around Jazz's neck, holding on for all he was worth, and told himself he'd never let go.
"Ohhhh Primus!" Jazz rocked back, "S-so intense!"
Prowl couldn't make a sound. Feeling another Spark pulse next to his own proved almost too overwhelming for his systems to handle. He clung on as emotions from Jazz's life swirled through his body. His own mental walls were built so high, so guarded, that he found it difficult to relax them even in this moment where he and Jazz were as close as two mechs could be.
"S'okay, Prowl..." Jazz's soothing voice filled his ear. "S'okay."
Every beat of Jazz's Spark hummed through Prowl. Their essences gradually slowed until their rhythms fell into synch.
"Let me in."
"Jazz..."
Jazz stroked his back. A loving, tender gesture. "You've been alone for too long."
Prowl cycled a deep breath and focused on his mental walls.
A brick fell. Then another. Cold drafts and light rays shone through, offering glimpses of him.
First came an emotion--the very emotion always ruling the back of his mind--he felt like no matter how talented he was at everything he did, he wasn't good enough. Deep down, he feared everyone saw only his mistakes. The perfection he longed for was forever out of reach. Failure shadowed his back like death.
Then he let Jazz feel his terrifying escape run out of the junk yard and into oblivion. Even he didn't know how he avoided being taken in by the authorities. For a brief time, he passed as sighted by adhering a dead mech's optic glass to his face. He built his visor from technology originally intended for detecting underground explosives and installed it himself--a feat that nearly killed him. Joining the Academy, learning Circuit-Su and disciplining himself not to grow too attached to people were the only ways he avoided capture and euthanasia. Then a rumor started around the Academy that a flawed mech was hiding in their midst. People started to suspect him because of his low test scores. So he jumped out his window and used the ninja skills he'd learned to stay in the shadows. With no friends, no one to guide him and nothing to lose, he found his way onto the next ship leaving Cybertron. It just so happened to contain a group of maintenance bots led by Optimus Prime.
He realized what a lonely, guarded life he led. Now its end was mere seconds away, and he almost couldn't believe it.
"Prowl," Jazz moved his lower half and electricity jumped pleasantly across the sensory nub at the base of Prowl's port. Prowl buried his face in Jazz's cheek and let the memory waves wash over him. He was an island sinking into the ocean of his lover--and for once he didn't fear the endless depths.
Jazz's emotions emerged as a series of complex knots that said a lot about why he came onto people so strongly. Prowl cradled each one on his palm, feeling it as his own. Every single lover Jazz had in the past was killed in the war. Every single one. He loved them all--he thought what they made him feel was the true, undying love of a devoted future bond mate--until he met Prowl. Prowl sensed how Jazz looked at him with a different feeling than the others, but he couldn't put words to how or why it wasn't the same. The idea of losing people sent him into fits of terror barely concealed behind a quick smile or a diverting joke. He was haunted by his past occupation and believed it left a stain the strongest cleaning solutions couldn't wash away.
Jazz revealed his days as a blocky-bodied junk yard worker. The sensations and smells of the dead lingered around his edges. When he left the scrap yard, he changed his armor, got a new paint job and altered his entire lifestyle. Metallikato, while sometimes violent, often focused on non-lethal ways of defeating opponents. Killing was always the extreme last resort.
He still sorely missed the three lovers who died fighting against Decepticons. Centuries passed between each mech he dated. It took that long for his courage to try again to come back. His most recent lover--barely a century ago--died in his arms mere seconds before the field medic reached them.
Every death tore holes in Jazz's Spark. He was beginning to lose faith in finding a permanent bond mate.
But now you have one, Prowl whispered through their growing bond. And so do I.
"Unh..." moaned Jazz. Prowl...
I will never leave you. I will never die on you.
Jazz's cheek twitched. Promise?
I give you my oath, Jazz.
Prowl kissed Jazz's throat and followed his jaw to his plump lips. Their tongues danced like metallic flames. He could feel his Spark swelling and turning slowly inwards, pulsing its way towards something amazing.
You don't have to be scared anymore, Prowl. I don't expect ya to be perfect--just be you...nothin' more, nothin' less.
But the rest of the world...
Doesn't know and will never know it from me. I love you. I need you.
"Oh, Jazz...Jazz..." Prowl rubbed his mouth side to side against the satiny space above Jazz's top lip. "Ohhh!"
"Mm--Prowl...s-so close!" Jazz shuddered and hot air blasted from his intakes. He grinned mischievously, "You look sexy...so sexy."
Prowl snickered. "How w-would--mmh--how would you know?"
"I just do." Warm lips nuzzled his cheek. "Just like I know you're goin' into overload. Go ahead. Don't wait f-for me."
"Jazz..."
Jazz delivered a volley of intense port pulses that rocked Prowl's core. Sparks flew as teeth nipped his throat and fingertips traced the engines on his shoulders, jangling his tenuous grip on the edge of forever.
"Prowl..." that slick voice whispered, "just let go."
"I..." Words failed him, but his Spark did not. I'm afraid to lose myself.
Ooh, it's a good thing I'm here, ain't it? Jazz replied coyly. His consciousness was music in Prowl's mind. I'll find you if you get lost. I want to take care of you, but not because you're blind.
Then how do you plan to take care of me?
Same way I know you'll take care of ME...just bein' around when you need me. You want to get mad? Yell at me. You want to cry? Cry on my shoulder. You want a hand to hold? Grab mine. That's all I ask.
Prowl stilled inside. Jazz's words sank into his psyche and the realization washed over him. This wasn't ending his independence, this was ending his loneliness. Walking hand in hand was not the same as being carried. They were equal, like two puzzle pieces meant to occupy one space. The exact second he realized this, the entire wall came down in a titanic crash and everything he was flooded forth in a tsunami of emotion and sensation. It felt so warm, like a boiling ocean of life realizing it was alive for the first time since its creation.
Prowl hung onto the edge just long enough to bid his old life farewell. Then he relaxed and accepted the inevitable plunge. How strange that he did not plummet like a rock, rather, he became a feather gently tumbling on the wind. Pleasant aching pulsed into his neural network until the loving ocean closed over his head, its warmth chasing away his empty loneliness.
He tasted it. He tasted Jazz and suddenly, he felt whole.
Whole.
"Oh--oh, Jazz--oh J--oh, Primus, Jazz!" Prowl bared his teeth as the orgasm rocked his body and mind. "JAZZ!"
"Mm, Prowl..." Jazz did something with his lower body that set Prowl on fire inside. "Ooh...at the edge..."
"Jazz!" Prowl's back arched as the rapture traveled through his frame in seemingly slow motion. There was no controlling how he moved or what came out of his mouth. The words he couldn't make himself say before now poured out in the orgasmic roar crashing around his body, "I love you, Jazz...ohh--I love you!"
"S-Say that...again." Jazz whispered.
"Unh..." Prowl cried out in his audio, "I love you!"
"I love you, too," Jazz's soft, trembling lips were right against his audio and their movement to speak was a caress. He began to murmur the way he always seemed to each time he reached overload. "Oh, frag...Prowl, you--ahhhh--you feel so--ooh--slagging--unh--GOOD!" He went suddenly rigid and emitted the most amazing vocalizations to ever grace Prowl's audios. The cave rang with his climax when he joined Prowl under their newborn sea.
Their lips met for the first time as bond mates. Then they cried out together, their hands feeling each others' faces clench while their rising voices created an echoing harmony in the acoustically perfect cavern that was ugly on the eyes, but beautiful to the ears. Their old selves shattered under the strain. Each piece fell away, stretched and reconfigured into something new and unscathed.
At the height of their shared orgasm, Jazz reached through the bond and let Prowl glimpse something he never thought he'd experience. Something that penetrated the nothingness of his sightless world.
Light...
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Life is a Tree