Of Bindings – A Departure and a Joining
Jan. 6th, 2009 01:07 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ante_luceOof, this was definitely due.
Title: Of Bindings - A Departure and a Joining
'Verse: 2007 Transformers.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Cussing.
“… Thus we bonded, and here we are now.” Prowl’s audience was quiet as he wound up his explanation. He too was sitting on the berth now, Jazz leaning against him, having fallen offline partway through the account. This had prompted concern from the others, but the tactician had reassured them, saying that the saboteur was just in recharge.
The transfers, from Jazz to Prowl and then back again, had taken a lot out of the both of them, but Jazz tended to feel these things more. Having only part of his spark when they’d bonded had left Jazz with a weaker half of the connection, and it took more effort for the Solstice initiate communications with the tactician. Not to mention, they’d been separated for a long, long time, and coupled with the stress of Jazz ‘dying’, the need for physical contact was by this point almost necessary.
Ironhide was the first to break the silence. “So, you’re who Jazz disappeared to talk to before we split off.”
“… Yes.”
“Huh. I’ll say it again. Wouldn’t have figured you two as bonded.”
Prowl would have shrugged, if a visored helm wasn’t peacefully recharging on his shoulder. As such, he only tilted his head a fraction. “It was our intent that no one did so.”
Ratchet spoke next. “How did you get through the initial stages? All my resources describe a newly joined pair as needing close contact with each other.”
“Jazz was in the med bay for a long time, and I used the excuse of wanting to visit the injured. Being relatively new to active service, the veterans thought I was adjusting to the realities of combat, and encouraged it. They thought it would help me keep in mind that tactics involve real bots.”
“Hah, like you ever forgot that.” The staticky comment startled the humans and rest of the mechs in the room. Jazz stirred, visor lighting up, but he didn’t move from his position on the tactician’s frame.
“Strategists do have a poor reputation when it comes to these things, Jazz.”
“You didn’t help it much, all your facts and figures and perfectly professional slag. Getting past that to see that your plans keep more of us alive would make any bot fritz into early shutdown.”
Ratchet interrupted, somewhat reassured by the pair’s bickering, a near constant in the Autobot forces. “You can argue later. For now, you both need a proper check up.”
= = =
Prowl sighed, examining the room he and Jazz were now in. It had been decided that they would share these quarters. The pair had done so before, due to space constraints, the overlap of their duties made the arrangement logical then, even as the rest of the Autobots wondered how their shared space kept from exploding. The knowledge of their bond was also a consideration now. No matter what they said about being able to handle the separation, the truth was they needed the proximity at the moment.
They were alone now, the others having quickly found reasons to leave when Ratchet advanced upon them, irritation clear in his optics. Jazz was in recharge again. The medic had declared him structurally sound, as expected, though he had his doubts about the Soltice’s processors (Prowl couldn’t decide if Ratchet was joking or not).
Prowl, on the other hand, had picked up quite a number of minor injuries, in addition to some more serious damage that he’d managed to conceal from everyone else (and that Jazz had helpfully informed Ratchet of before dropping offline). The CMO had thrown the expected fit, clocked him upside the helm, and stormed off to gather what tools he needed.
Waiting for the medic to return, Prowl found his thoughts, aided by Ironhide’s earlier comment, wandering to the last time he’d seen Jazz.
= = =
“Look, you ought to go with them. Prime’s gonna need a tactician.”
“He’ll need someone who can adapt quickly and remain unnoticed even more. As long as you are with Optimus, I can follow after.”
“It’s easier for me to track you. You got the stronger half of the bond. He’s got ‘Bee as a scout. ‘Bot’s almost as adaptable as me, but I’m no you.”
“You have a decent tactical program, and after all this time you had better have an idea on how to use it. Prime does not lack tactical programming either. And Bumblebee will need another Special Operative with him, especially on a mission with no discernable timeframe.”
“Slag this; remind me why you’re not coming with us?”
“A small group stands a better chance of escaping notice and moving quickly. You have a medic, two heavy fighters, and two scouts, the bare minimum for a team. Your chances of survival go down exponentially with each additional mech. Besides, someone has to stay with the rest of the mechs still onboard.”
“I hate your logic and tactical planning.”
His grip on the silver mech’s shoulders tightened. They shared a bond, a connection few still in existence understood. And it had made them friends, no matter how much they differed in opinion and manner. “Jazz, I will find you and Prime. I swear it on my spark.”
Jazz had smiled faintly at him. “You’d better, it’s part mine now.”
“Yes yes, now go before you miss the takeoff window.”
“Stay alive.”
“You do the same.”
= = =
The irony of their parting conversation struck him hard, and he smiled, not bothering to hide the expression, considering the state of his current company.
::Figures. Mr I-must-show-no-emotion.::
He glanced at the offline frame of the saboteur, and allowed his smile to widen.
::And now you’re just mocking me.:: Jazz’s playfully injured tone made him actually laugh, even as Prowl returned to sit on the berth next to him.
::You should be resting, Jazz.::
::I am. Chassis all offline like a good little mech.::
::This is hardly restful.::
::Mech, trust me, this is a fragging holiday after what I just went through.::
::I would expect so.:: His mood dimmed, and Jazz, sensing the change through the bond, nudged him mentally.
::Prowl…::
His reply through the connection was quiet and restrained. ::I thought I told you to stay alive.::
::It’s a war, Prowl. I did my best. We gotta stop meeting like that though. S’the second time your spark’s saved mine. Next one’s on me, ‘kay?::
::Jazz.:: His annoyance at the flippant response flashed through to Jazz, prompting a mental sigh.
::Prowler, things don’t always go exactly to plan in something like this, you know that.::
::I don’t have to like it.::
Prowl could feel the other mech’s amusement at his petulant reply. ::I’ll give you that. I didn’t like it much either.::
They both fell silent, before Jazz ‘spoke’ again.
::Prowl, do you regret this?::
::I don’t. I promised you that.::
::I know what you promised. But that was slagging long ago. You can change your mind, you know. I’d understand.::
::Jazz, I don’t regret bonding to you.::
The saboteur’s apprehension was understandable; they didn’t know how the others would react to this new information. The pair of them had taken a huge risk, accepting promotions to their current rank, going on dangerous missions, knowing that one of them dying posed an immense threat to the stability of the command structure. His digits sought out the still ones of Jazz, barely making contact with the saboteur’s, offering the comfort of touch. Jazz came online long enough to delicately interlace their hands, accepting the reassurance as Prowl continued.
::You have been infuriating, confusing, and all manner of processor freezing, but I don’t regret this. No matter what poison they drip into your audio, remember that. I bonded with you to save you, and if we went back to that orn, I would do so again without a second thought. I meant what I said before I bonded with you to save your life, and I still mean it now.::
= = =
“Look, you sure about this?”
Prowl looked down at the mech he was helping keep upright. “Not a breem ago you were agreeing.”
“I know, just wanted to make sure. This… this is big, and it has to last for a slagging long time if you really want my spark to regenerate. Tell you what. Break the bond after I’ve told Prime.”
“No.”
Jazz gaped at the tactician’s immediate refusal. “Why not? You’ll have accomplished your objective, as would have I. Prime will probably assign you to the hunt for our turncoat, and I know you’ll get the bot. I can go to the Matrix content.”
“I told you, I will not lose a mech who I could have saved.”
“M’not yours to lose, Prowl. And what if I don’t want to bond any more?”
At Jazz’s challenge, the tactician stilled, staring directly into the Spec Ops mech’s optics. “It is your choice. But I ask you to please, consider it.”
“I can get pretty unpleasant to be around.”
“I don’t expect this to be easy. I have my flaws too. Jazz, if you don’t want this-”
“Slag it, Prowl! It’s not easy, okay?! I don’t know how you can just stand there, offering your fragging spark to a mech you barely know. Get someone else to bond to me. If you vouch for them, I’ll trust them enough to go through with it.”
“Like you said. This is big. I cannot force another bot to make this choice.”
“Then why are you making it in the first place?!”
“Because I want you to live. I am a tactician, and you are now a mech under my command. Your life was entrusted to me, and I will not just let you die without doing all I can to prevent it.”
“You’re going to have a rough time of it, with that attitude.”
“I know.”
“… Alright.”
“No quip about doing this before you change your mind?”
“I don’t have any doubts about bonding to you, ‘kay? And I don’t want you to think I have any. Only about you bonding to a mech like me. Just so you know.”
“I won’t regret this, I give you my word.”
Jazz nodded, and slowly, silver armour parted, and the weak light of a guttering spark gleamed between them, soon joined by the stronger one of Prowl’s. The Special Operative gasped, arms instinctively going ‘round the other mech to pull him closer, his spark demanding closer proximity to the other mech’s. The tactician shifted his hold to better support Jazz, cradling his torso almost tenderly.
The first contact, as expected, opened both of them completely to each other.
Both cried out, trying to muffle the sound and avoid drawing unwanted attention. Everything they were, past, present, and thoughts about their future flashed through their joined selves. Memories flickered, and their thoughts merged, both mechs unable to separate their selves from the other with them.
A flash of sorrow, that they were not doing this with a lover, a chosen life mate.
A matching sadness, an offer of physical pleasure, to mitigate the loss of something that should have been special.
A gentle refusal. It was alright. It was easier this way.
Acknowledgement, and eventually, their sparks parted, and their plating sealed itself. Still reeling from the experience, they clung to each other, the newly formed bond channelling a thousand thoughts and sensations to each other. Jazz registered a voice in his mind, calling his name.
::Jazz.::
Cautiously, he attempted to reply in the same manner. ::…Prowl?::
::Yes. Can you set up a barrier?::
He could feel that the other mech was doing his best to dull their connection. ::Ugh. C’n try. My processors are still rattled. How’d you learn to block a bond?::
::All tacticians are required to learn how to defend against telepathic attack. The principles seemed applicable in this situation.::
::Ah. Ops bots get the same training. ‘Cos of Soundwave?::
::Yes.::
::‘Kay.::
The flow between them slowed to a more manageable current. A quick mental discussion, and they agreed that blocking off everything would be a Bad Ideatm, counterproductive to the whole point of bonding. Jazz lay down once more, and Prowl sat beside him, playing the role of comforter to a dying mech. In a few cycles, when Jazz obviously didn’t pass on, the medic would assume that the miniscule chance that Jazz’s spark would stabilise on its own had happened, and hopefully, the actual circumstances would not be discovered.
= = =
Musing over the memory data of that orn, he sighed. There had been more to the process than what he’d told the others, but Prowl had decided to leave out what he deemed were the private details between him and Jazz. They knew they were bonded, they knew why, and they knew that neither mech had forced the choice on the other. And that was all they needed to know.
And now, his exhaustion finally caught up with him.
Ratchet reentered the room to find both of the mechs in recharge. He had to smile. Their hands were entwined. By their very fingertips, shy, as if unused to doing so, but joined nonetheless.
“Well now.” He murmured. “At least this will make checking you over much easier, Prowl, you stubborn aft. You won’t be able to protest against any part of my diagnosis.”
Title: Of Bindings - A Departure and a Joining
'Verse: 2007 Transformers.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Cussing.
“… Thus we bonded, and here we are now.” Prowl’s audience was quiet as he wound up his explanation. He too was sitting on the berth now, Jazz leaning against him, having fallen offline partway through the account. This had prompted concern from the others, but the tactician had reassured them, saying that the saboteur was just in recharge.
The transfers, from Jazz to Prowl and then back again, had taken a lot out of the both of them, but Jazz tended to feel these things more. Having only part of his spark when they’d bonded had left Jazz with a weaker half of the connection, and it took more effort for the Solstice initiate communications with the tactician. Not to mention, they’d been separated for a long, long time, and coupled with the stress of Jazz ‘dying’, the need for physical contact was by this point almost necessary.
Ironhide was the first to break the silence. “So, you’re who Jazz disappeared to talk to before we split off.”
“… Yes.”
“Huh. I’ll say it again. Wouldn’t have figured you two as bonded.”
Prowl would have shrugged, if a visored helm wasn’t peacefully recharging on his shoulder. As such, he only tilted his head a fraction. “It was our intent that no one did so.”
Ratchet spoke next. “How did you get through the initial stages? All my resources describe a newly joined pair as needing close contact with each other.”
“Jazz was in the med bay for a long time, and I used the excuse of wanting to visit the injured. Being relatively new to active service, the veterans thought I was adjusting to the realities of combat, and encouraged it. They thought it would help me keep in mind that tactics involve real bots.”
“Hah, like you ever forgot that.” The staticky comment startled the humans and rest of the mechs in the room. Jazz stirred, visor lighting up, but he didn’t move from his position on the tactician’s frame.
“Strategists do have a poor reputation when it comes to these things, Jazz.”
“You didn’t help it much, all your facts and figures and perfectly professional slag. Getting past that to see that your plans keep more of us alive would make any bot fritz into early shutdown.”
Ratchet interrupted, somewhat reassured by the pair’s bickering, a near constant in the Autobot forces. “You can argue later. For now, you both need a proper check up.”
= = =
Prowl sighed, examining the room he and Jazz were now in. It had been decided that they would share these quarters. The pair had done so before, due to space constraints, the overlap of their duties made the arrangement logical then, even as the rest of the Autobots wondered how their shared space kept from exploding. The knowledge of their bond was also a consideration now. No matter what they said about being able to handle the separation, the truth was they needed the proximity at the moment.
They were alone now, the others having quickly found reasons to leave when Ratchet advanced upon them, irritation clear in his optics. Jazz was in recharge again. The medic had declared him structurally sound, as expected, though he had his doubts about the Soltice’s processors (Prowl couldn’t decide if Ratchet was joking or not).
Prowl, on the other hand, had picked up quite a number of minor injuries, in addition to some more serious damage that he’d managed to conceal from everyone else (and that Jazz had helpfully informed Ratchet of before dropping offline). The CMO had thrown the expected fit, clocked him upside the helm, and stormed off to gather what tools he needed.
Waiting for the medic to return, Prowl found his thoughts, aided by Ironhide’s earlier comment, wandering to the last time he’d seen Jazz.
= = =
“Look, you ought to go with them. Prime’s gonna need a tactician.”
“He’ll need someone who can adapt quickly and remain unnoticed even more. As long as you are with Optimus, I can follow after.”
“It’s easier for me to track you. You got the stronger half of the bond. He’s got ‘Bee as a scout. ‘Bot’s almost as adaptable as me, but I’m no you.”
“You have a decent tactical program, and after all this time you had better have an idea on how to use it. Prime does not lack tactical programming either. And Bumblebee will need another Special Operative with him, especially on a mission with no discernable timeframe.”
“Slag this; remind me why you’re not coming with us?”
“A small group stands a better chance of escaping notice and moving quickly. You have a medic, two heavy fighters, and two scouts, the bare minimum for a team. Your chances of survival go down exponentially with each additional mech. Besides, someone has to stay with the rest of the mechs still onboard.”
“I hate your logic and tactical planning.”
His grip on the silver mech’s shoulders tightened. They shared a bond, a connection few still in existence understood. And it had made them friends, no matter how much they differed in opinion and manner. “Jazz, I will find you and Prime. I swear it on my spark.”
Jazz had smiled faintly at him. “You’d better, it’s part mine now.”
“Yes yes, now go before you miss the takeoff window.”
“Stay alive.”
“You do the same.”
= = =
The irony of their parting conversation struck him hard, and he smiled, not bothering to hide the expression, considering the state of his current company.
::Figures. Mr I-must-show-no-emotion.::
He glanced at the offline frame of the saboteur, and allowed his smile to widen.
::And now you’re just mocking me.:: Jazz’s playfully injured tone made him actually laugh, even as Prowl returned to sit on the berth next to him.
::You should be resting, Jazz.::
::I am. Chassis all offline like a good little mech.::
::This is hardly restful.::
::Mech, trust me, this is a fragging holiday after what I just went through.::
::I would expect so.:: His mood dimmed, and Jazz, sensing the change through the bond, nudged him mentally.
::Prowl…::
His reply through the connection was quiet and restrained. ::I thought I told you to stay alive.::
::It’s a war, Prowl. I did my best. We gotta stop meeting like that though. S’the second time your spark’s saved mine. Next one’s on me, ‘kay?::
::Jazz.:: His annoyance at the flippant response flashed through to Jazz, prompting a mental sigh.
::Prowler, things don’t always go exactly to plan in something like this, you know that.::
::I don’t have to like it.::
Prowl could feel the other mech’s amusement at his petulant reply. ::I’ll give you that. I didn’t like it much either.::
They both fell silent, before Jazz ‘spoke’ again.
::Prowl, do you regret this?::
::I don’t. I promised you that.::
::I know what you promised. But that was slagging long ago. You can change your mind, you know. I’d understand.::
::Jazz, I don’t regret bonding to you.::
The saboteur’s apprehension was understandable; they didn’t know how the others would react to this new information. The pair of them had taken a huge risk, accepting promotions to their current rank, going on dangerous missions, knowing that one of them dying posed an immense threat to the stability of the command structure. His digits sought out the still ones of Jazz, barely making contact with the saboteur’s, offering the comfort of touch. Jazz came online long enough to delicately interlace their hands, accepting the reassurance as Prowl continued.
::You have been infuriating, confusing, and all manner of processor freezing, but I don’t regret this. No matter what poison they drip into your audio, remember that. I bonded with you to save you, and if we went back to that orn, I would do so again without a second thought. I meant what I said before I bonded with you to save your life, and I still mean it now.::
= = =
“Look, you sure about this?”
Prowl looked down at the mech he was helping keep upright. “Not a breem ago you were agreeing.”
“I know, just wanted to make sure. This… this is big, and it has to last for a slagging long time if you really want my spark to regenerate. Tell you what. Break the bond after I’ve told Prime.”
“No.”
Jazz gaped at the tactician’s immediate refusal. “Why not? You’ll have accomplished your objective, as would have I. Prime will probably assign you to the hunt for our turncoat, and I know you’ll get the bot. I can go to the Matrix content.”
“I told you, I will not lose a mech who I could have saved.”
“M’not yours to lose, Prowl. And what if I don’t want to bond any more?”
At Jazz’s challenge, the tactician stilled, staring directly into the Spec Ops mech’s optics. “It is your choice. But I ask you to please, consider it.”
“I can get pretty unpleasant to be around.”
“I don’t expect this to be easy. I have my flaws too. Jazz, if you don’t want this-”
“Slag it, Prowl! It’s not easy, okay?! I don’t know how you can just stand there, offering your fragging spark to a mech you barely know. Get someone else to bond to me. If you vouch for them, I’ll trust them enough to go through with it.”
“Like you said. This is big. I cannot force another bot to make this choice.”
“Then why are you making it in the first place?!”
“Because I want you to live. I am a tactician, and you are now a mech under my command. Your life was entrusted to me, and I will not just let you die without doing all I can to prevent it.”
“You’re going to have a rough time of it, with that attitude.”
“I know.”
“… Alright.”
“No quip about doing this before you change your mind?”
“I don’t have any doubts about bonding to you, ‘kay? And I don’t want you to think I have any. Only about you bonding to a mech like me. Just so you know.”
“I won’t regret this, I give you my word.”
Jazz nodded, and slowly, silver armour parted, and the weak light of a guttering spark gleamed between them, soon joined by the stronger one of Prowl’s. The Special Operative gasped, arms instinctively going ‘round the other mech to pull him closer, his spark demanding closer proximity to the other mech’s. The tactician shifted his hold to better support Jazz, cradling his torso almost tenderly.
The first contact, as expected, opened both of them completely to each other.
Both cried out, trying to muffle the sound and avoid drawing unwanted attention. Everything they were, past, present, and thoughts about their future flashed through their joined selves. Memories flickered, and their thoughts merged, both mechs unable to separate their selves from the other with them.
A flash of sorrow, that they were not doing this with a lover, a chosen life mate.
A matching sadness, an offer of physical pleasure, to mitigate the loss of something that should have been special.
A gentle refusal. It was alright. It was easier this way.
Acknowledgement, and eventually, their sparks parted, and their plating sealed itself. Still reeling from the experience, they clung to each other, the newly formed bond channelling a thousand thoughts and sensations to each other. Jazz registered a voice in his mind, calling his name.
::Jazz.::
Cautiously, he attempted to reply in the same manner. ::…Prowl?::
::Yes. Can you set up a barrier?::
He could feel that the other mech was doing his best to dull their connection. ::Ugh. C’n try. My processors are still rattled. How’d you learn to block a bond?::
::All tacticians are required to learn how to defend against telepathic attack. The principles seemed applicable in this situation.::
::Ah. Ops bots get the same training. ‘Cos of Soundwave?::
::Yes.::
::‘Kay.::
The flow between them slowed to a more manageable current. A quick mental discussion, and they agreed that blocking off everything would be a Bad Ideatm, counterproductive to the whole point of bonding. Jazz lay down once more, and Prowl sat beside him, playing the role of comforter to a dying mech. In a few cycles, when Jazz obviously didn’t pass on, the medic would assume that the miniscule chance that Jazz’s spark would stabilise on its own had happened, and hopefully, the actual circumstances would not be discovered.
= = =
Musing over the memory data of that orn, he sighed. There had been more to the process than what he’d told the others, but Prowl had decided to leave out what he deemed were the private details between him and Jazz. They knew they were bonded, they knew why, and they knew that neither mech had forced the choice on the other. And that was all they needed to know.
And now, his exhaustion finally caught up with him.
Ratchet reentered the room to find both of the mechs in recharge. He had to smile. Their hands were entwined. By their very fingertips, shy, as if unused to doing so, but joined nonetheless.
“Well now.” He murmured. “At least this will make checking you over much easier, Prowl, you stubborn aft. You won’t be able to protest against any part of my diagnosis.”
