ante_luce | Other Worlds [Part 9]

Well, lookit that, I finally have something for cut text.

Title: Other Worlds [Part 9]
'Verse: G1 Transformers with a little TF:A
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: TF cussing.

The other Jazz vanished the moment they set foot in the Ark, and Jazz let him, no longer able to muster the energy to be… jealous. Jealous? A quiet, insistent voice told him that he had been. The same voice pointed out that he really should take the other Jazz’s advice.

The Ops mech stopped, looking at his surroundings with startled optics. Somehow, his pedes had taken him to Prowl’s office once more. Straining his audios, he could hear the muffled sound of Sentinel’s voice (less easy to pick out in recent days now that the mech had mellowed somewhat), and the even fainter tones of the tactician through the door.

= = =

Prowl watched Sentinel walk into his office, shoulder struts squared, looking as if he was still gathering the manifolds to speak to the tactician. He nodded sharply, indicating that the mech should sit, steepling his fingers and gazing at Sentinel over them. To his credit, the blue mech didn’t back away, but approached in a respectful manner and seated himself.

“You wanted to speak to me.” Prowl began, and Sentinel quietly agreed. The Datsun fell silent, and Sentinel wondered at how the mechs on this world could make him feel like an awkward youngling once more.

“Why?”

“I wanted to apologise, sir. I’m sorry for the way I’ve been acting. My words regarding your Prime were unwarranted, angering your mechs and endangering both me and my comrades.”

The SIC considered the mech before him (and the message Optimus had sent him regarding Sentinel), then made his reply, accepting the apology. “I believe I must apologise in turn. I was rather harsh with you at the time.”

Sentinel shook his head. “I deserved it, sir. Sunstreaker would have made things difficult, especially since his brother was just as inclined to murder me, and the other mechs equally inclined to help them with the task. Rodimus would have felt obligated to intervene, our twins would have leapt in as well, and we’d have had a brawl on our hands. Your intervention was needed, not just to set my head on straight, but to keep it there in the first place.”

The tactician blinked, his surprise clear, and Sentinel shrugged, expression self-deprecating. “No matter what anyone else thinks, I earned my rank in my dimension fair and square. I’d not have survived this long by being both loud-mouthed and a complete idiot. Not at the same time, at least.”

A faint, unconscious smile flickered across pale faceplates, and the blue mech found his air intakes cycling easier. “Prowl, sir. If you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to know more about the Sentinel Prime you knew. It’d give me something to model myself on.”

The chevroned mech nodded, that faint smile growing into something a little more obvious.

= = =

Jazz contemplated waiting for Sentinel to leave, then going in to take his chances with the Datsun. But as he stood there, doubts began to run through his processors.

Prowl… cared. That much he was sure of. But despite what the other Jazz thought, as Prowl had said, they couldn’t be expected to behave in the same manner as their counterparts. The Autotbot SIC could still only be looking out for him as a friend, perhaps no more than a colleague.

Jazz didn’t know if he could bring himself to find that out for certain.

So he didn’t, breathing the mech’s name to himself in a soft, confused plea for only Primus knew what, then turning away from Prowl’s door and his voice and his possibilities, heading as far from them as possible.

= = =

Sentinel noticed that the Autobot SIC seemed to be distracted. Unusual, from what he knew of the mech. Prowl continued speaking, his recount of his time under Sentinel Prime progressing without any audible irregularity, but the mech’s optics seemed to drift, from focusing on the blue mech, to glancing at the door to his office.

Then those doorwings, previously held upright and dignified, fluttered, as if the mech bearing them was uncertain.

“Sir? Are you okay?”

Startled optics turned back to him, almost guiltily. “I’m fine.”

“You… don’t look fine.” Sentinel dared, and Prowl sighed, running a hand over his chevron.

“… I thought I heard someone call my name.”

The blue mech turned to look at the door, puzzled. “I didn’t hear anything.”

“I must have been mistaken then.” Said the Datsun briskly, doorwings flicking rapidly, as if trying to shake off something, then settling once more into their usual set. Sentinel took that as his cue to leave, standing and thanking the tactician for his time, then exiting the room.

= = =

Jazz, the Elite Guard mech and not the Ops one, had tucked himself away in the temporary quarters the Autobots had given the other world bots. Music blasted from his systems, set to internal playback so as not to cause a disturbance, and for a while he just lost himself in the sound.

A hand landing on his shoulder had him jerking out of his reverie like a scalded cat.

“Sentinel! Warn a mech next time. You near startled me out of my paintjob!”

“Me, surprised you? Jazz, either you’re joking with me, or you need to see Ratchet and our Red Alert.” Sentinel raised an optic ridge in disbelief.

“Mech, can’t a bot ever drop his guard? I was getting into some tunes. Blaster pointed out a great set to sample.” Jazz grinned at him, and the blue mech raised that optic ridge even higher.

“… Right. You’re a cyberninja. You can hear me moving around in the next room when you’re in recharge. So excuse me if I don’t quite believe you.”

The black and white mech’s visor dimmed a little, and he chuckled softly. “Okay, so I was a little lost in thought. You know, thinking?”

“Must’ve been some really deep cyberninja musing then. All those millions of vorns of contemplation, and you lot still have no answers.” Sentinel snarked back, tone dry as Jazz shrugged with an easy smirk.

“Heh, you know us. Gotta know the sound of one servo clapping and all that.”

“I know that one. It sounds like my hand impacting the side of your helm. Now, you’ve been run down since we got here and met the Ark bots, then you got better a few days ago, but now you look even worse. What. The. Frag. Happened?”

The cyberninja was silent, expression going uncharacteristically troubled. Sentinel cycled air in exasperation and thumped the other mech lightly on the back of his head. Jazz pitched forward with a yelp, catching himself with his usual grace before turning an injured look on the blue Elite Guard.

“You put up with me all this while. Time I returned the favour. Talk.” Sentinel muttered, then outright growled at the stunned expression given him. “Oh for frag’s sake, I know I’m an aft, but give me some credit. I do think of you as a friend, you know!”

Jazz only stared some more, before he broke out into snickers, then motioned for the mech to sit down. “Right. Sorry."

The visored mech paused, contemplating the ground for a moment before looking up at his fellow guardsmech once more.

"You remember when we first went to Earth, Sentinel?”