Other Worlds [Part 16 - End]
Apr. 22nd, 2009 12:21 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ante_luceDare I say it this time? I think this is finished.
Title: Other Worlds [Part 16 - End]
'Verse: TF:A and 2007 Transformers
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: TF cussing.
Jazz spent most of his time in this reality holed up in his quarters on the Elite ship, or away from the general population, which was unusual for him. It was too… Well, he didn’t quite know how to describe it, but being out there while his counterpart lay deactivated in the same base was just… odd.
He saw the flinches, the little unconscious gestures, and the looks, both disconcerted and wistful. He wasn’t their Jazz, and his presence just made the empty chassis of his silver counterpart even more obvious. Dead. Their Jazz was dead here. Even though Optimus had said they might be able to call the saboteur back, the finality of the word caused his spark to tremble and quail in its casing.
So he stayed away, for both his sake and theirs. Sentinel was worried, he knew, but the blue guardsmech let him have his space, and kept Ultra Magnus off his back as well.
“They’re ready.” The Elite mech focused on the doorwinged form that stood before him, optics rebooting once before he nodded and rose from where he’d been watching the sunset. Once he got back, he’d fragging well have a good many memory files to share with a certain black and gold cyberninja. His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of his name being called.
“… Yeah?” Prowl looked at him, expression not as saddened as it once had been.
“Our Jazz will be fine. He has never known when to give up. Refuses to do so, even when logic dictates otherwise.” There was a rueful little smile, and Jazz had the feeling that the mech was talking about more than just battle situations. The tactician clasped the guardsmech’s shoulder firmly. “So neither should you.”
Jazz nodded, a smile appearing on his faceplates for the first time since they’d landed here.
“Thanks, Prowl. I won’t.”
= = =
“Well. Good luck.”
“Thanks. It was great meeting you all.”
“Likewise.”
Their farewells were brief, and soon they were back in space, making another attempt to get home. Once more, a warp portal opened, and once more they set off an explosive as they flew through, hoping to end up back home at last.
= = =
Jazz was silent as he scanned the airwaves of this reality, Sentinel a constant presence in the room throughout the process.
“Sentinel, listen to this, tell me I’m not hearing things.”
The blue mech came over, expression curious. Jazz played the clip he’d picked up, and the other guardsmech smiled. “Sounds like an ad for Burger Bot. Most annoying thing I’ve ever heard. But also the best in a good long while.”
“S’what I thought.” The cyberninja practically vibrated in his seat, wanting to believe that yes, they were finally back, but hesitant to do so at the same time. Sentinel chuckled.
“Well, looks like we’re home. Soon, you’ll be able to go find your cyberninja.”
“Sentinel, what if…”
“Jazz. Let me tell you something another mech told me. ‘Tomorrow will come, and with it whatever it brings.’ We’ll deal with whatever happens.”
“… Ark’s Prowl?”
“Ark’s Prowl.”
“We both owe him a great deal, don’t we.”
“That we do, Jazz. That we do.”
= = =
To say that the Detroit Autobots were surprised by the greeting they received when the Elite Guard ship landed was an understatement. Optimus, looking obviously bewildered and cautious, insisted that Ultra Magnus hear what he had to say first.
The Supreme Commander let him do so, something that surprised the young Prime greatly, but he didn’t waste time questioning the mech. The tale of the double agent spilled out, and the hammer wielding mech was on comms back to Cybertron in a sparkbeat, using a secure channel Longarm Prime, or should he say, Shockwave, had no inkling of.
Meanwhile, Jazz and Sentinel were both working on targets of their own.
= = =
“Optimus.”
“What is it, Sentinel?” The other Prime’s tone was understandably curt, and Sentinel accepted it as his due.
“I never thanked you for saving me from those organics. I need to apologise to you for that, and a whole lot else.” Optimus’s stunned expression was priceless (and a lot easier to take than that of the Ark’s Optimus Prime), and the blue mech smirked as he slung an arm over the unresisting mech’s shoulders, steering him away to a more private area for their discussion.
= = =
Jazz watched the black and gold mech move, taking in every movement and gesture like a mech starved for energon. Prowl let him be, continuing with his patrol, silent as always, though the cyberninja had to be wondering why the guardsmech had asked to tag along.
Finally, as they were returning to the warehouse that made up Optimus’s crew’s base, Prowl veered off the expected route, heading for the small park nearby instead. Puzzled, Jazz followed, and when the dark mech transformed, so did he.
“Something troubles you.”
Jazz shook his head. “Was troubling me. Not anymore.”
A querying sound, and the black and white mech shrugged. “Y’know all about my last couple of weeks. I’ll say I’ve learnt a few things. Met a few bots who helped me a lot. Got a couple of datafiles I think you’d like.”
“That’s good. And thank you for thinking of me.” Slag. Was it a requirement that Prowls could become so hard to read at the drop of a microchip, and his one the most difficult of all? A neutral tone that told him nothing, wingthings that were static and immovable, and a fragging visor that hid his optics (not that Jazz had any right to complain about visors). Jazz felt his fuel tanks flutter, and he sighed. Prowl tilted his helm, raising an optic ridge, clearly not believing him.
“Okay. I’m not all fine. But it’s okay. I’ll get there once I do this one thing.”
“Oh? What?”
“This.” The Elite Guard drew close, hesitantly reaching for Prowl (his Prowl, the right one, at last), pulling him close. He brought his lip plates close to the other cyberninja’s, but paused, suddenly afraid that the motorcycle would take offence and pull away. A quiet chuckle vibrated between them.
“I can feel your systems going into overdrive, Jazz.” The darker mech murmured, and Jazz could no longer move, transfixed by the sheer rightness of that voice saying his name, by the way they fit together, by the way Prowl seemed content to remain where he was, by the thought that he had come so close to losing this. He breathed Prowl’s designation in return, only to get another quiet laugh. “Yes, Jazz?”
“I like you. Frag that, I love you.”
The motorcycle glanced down at how they were wrapped about each other, then back at Jazz, a wry little smile tugging at his lips. “I know.”
The black and white mech grinned back, dropping his helm to rest against a gold chevron. “I should have told you earlier.”
“Perhaps I should have made it clearer that I reciprocated. Optimus and Ratchet are always telling me I’m too reserved about these things. Sari as well.”
Jazz shook his head and continued smiling as Prowl wrapped an arm about his neck, then tugged him down to finally bring them together for a kiss.
= = =
“Y’think they’re alright, Prowler?”
The black and white Datsun looked at the Porsche leaning against his office wall, attention clearly no longer on the day’s tasklist. He smiled and brushed a hand over his chestplates, where his sparkchamber was concealed. Jazz’s surprised expression was quickly replaced by a brilliant grin.
“What, even with the other dimension thing going on?” At Prowl’s nod, the Ops mech laughed. “Spark echoes! Why didn’t you say anything earlier?”
“I didn’t realise it until recently myself.”
“He’s happy, then?”
“He was, before the last of our connection faded. Exceedingly so.”
“S’good.” Jazz murmured contentedly, finally settling and picking up his datapad again. Prowl agreed, doing the same.
“Yes. It is.”
= = = EndFic = = =
Title: Other Worlds [Part 16 - End]
'Verse: TF:A and 2007 Transformers
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: TF cussing.
Jazz spent most of his time in this reality holed up in his quarters on the Elite ship, or away from the general population, which was unusual for him. It was too… Well, he didn’t quite know how to describe it, but being out there while his counterpart lay deactivated in the same base was just… odd.
He saw the flinches, the little unconscious gestures, and the looks, both disconcerted and wistful. He wasn’t their Jazz, and his presence just made the empty chassis of his silver counterpart even more obvious. Dead. Their Jazz was dead here. Even though Optimus had said they might be able to call the saboteur back, the finality of the word caused his spark to tremble and quail in its casing.
So he stayed away, for both his sake and theirs. Sentinel was worried, he knew, but the blue guardsmech let him have his space, and kept Ultra Magnus off his back as well.
“They’re ready.” The Elite mech focused on the doorwinged form that stood before him, optics rebooting once before he nodded and rose from where he’d been watching the sunset. Once he got back, he’d fragging well have a good many memory files to share with a certain black and gold cyberninja. His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of his name being called.
“… Yeah?” Prowl looked at him, expression not as saddened as it once had been.
“Our Jazz will be fine. He has never known when to give up. Refuses to do so, even when logic dictates otherwise.” There was a rueful little smile, and Jazz had the feeling that the mech was talking about more than just battle situations. The tactician clasped the guardsmech’s shoulder firmly. “So neither should you.”
Jazz nodded, a smile appearing on his faceplates for the first time since they’d landed here.
“Thanks, Prowl. I won’t.”
= = =
“Well. Good luck.”
“Thanks. It was great meeting you all.”
“Likewise.”
Their farewells were brief, and soon they were back in space, making another attempt to get home. Once more, a warp portal opened, and once more they set off an explosive as they flew through, hoping to end up back home at last.
= = =
Jazz was silent as he scanned the airwaves of this reality, Sentinel a constant presence in the room throughout the process.
“Sentinel, listen to this, tell me I’m not hearing things.”
The blue mech came over, expression curious. Jazz played the clip he’d picked up, and the other guardsmech smiled. “Sounds like an ad for Burger Bot. Most annoying thing I’ve ever heard. But also the best in a good long while.”
“S’what I thought.” The cyberninja practically vibrated in his seat, wanting to believe that yes, they were finally back, but hesitant to do so at the same time. Sentinel chuckled.
“Well, looks like we’re home. Soon, you’ll be able to go find your cyberninja.”
“Sentinel, what if…”
“Jazz. Let me tell you something another mech told me. ‘Tomorrow will come, and with it whatever it brings.’ We’ll deal with whatever happens.”
“… Ark’s Prowl?”
“Ark’s Prowl.”
“We both owe him a great deal, don’t we.”
“That we do, Jazz. That we do.”
= = =
To say that the Detroit Autobots were surprised by the greeting they received when the Elite Guard ship landed was an understatement. Optimus, looking obviously bewildered and cautious, insisted that Ultra Magnus hear what he had to say first.
The Supreme Commander let him do so, something that surprised the young Prime greatly, but he didn’t waste time questioning the mech. The tale of the double agent spilled out, and the hammer wielding mech was on comms back to Cybertron in a sparkbeat, using a secure channel Longarm Prime, or should he say, Shockwave, had no inkling of.
Meanwhile, Jazz and Sentinel were both working on targets of their own.
= = =
“Optimus.”
“What is it, Sentinel?” The other Prime’s tone was understandably curt, and Sentinel accepted it as his due.
“I never thanked you for saving me from those organics. I need to apologise to you for that, and a whole lot else.” Optimus’s stunned expression was priceless (and a lot easier to take than that of the Ark’s Optimus Prime), and the blue mech smirked as he slung an arm over the unresisting mech’s shoulders, steering him away to a more private area for their discussion.
= = =
Jazz watched the black and gold mech move, taking in every movement and gesture like a mech starved for energon. Prowl let him be, continuing with his patrol, silent as always, though the cyberninja had to be wondering why the guardsmech had asked to tag along.
Finally, as they were returning to the warehouse that made up Optimus’s crew’s base, Prowl veered off the expected route, heading for the small park nearby instead. Puzzled, Jazz followed, and when the dark mech transformed, so did he.
“Something troubles you.”
Jazz shook his head. “Was troubling me. Not anymore.”
A querying sound, and the black and white mech shrugged. “Y’know all about my last couple of weeks. I’ll say I’ve learnt a few things. Met a few bots who helped me a lot. Got a couple of datafiles I think you’d like.”
“That’s good. And thank you for thinking of me.” Slag. Was it a requirement that Prowls could become so hard to read at the drop of a microchip, and his one the most difficult of all? A neutral tone that told him nothing, wingthings that were static and immovable, and a fragging visor that hid his optics (not that Jazz had any right to complain about visors). Jazz felt his fuel tanks flutter, and he sighed. Prowl tilted his helm, raising an optic ridge, clearly not believing him.
“Okay. I’m not all fine. But it’s okay. I’ll get there once I do this one thing.”
“Oh? What?”
“This.” The Elite Guard drew close, hesitantly reaching for Prowl (his Prowl, the right one, at last), pulling him close. He brought his lip plates close to the other cyberninja’s, but paused, suddenly afraid that the motorcycle would take offence and pull away. A quiet chuckle vibrated between them.
“I can feel your systems going into overdrive, Jazz.” The darker mech murmured, and Jazz could no longer move, transfixed by the sheer rightness of that voice saying his name, by the way they fit together, by the way Prowl seemed content to remain where he was, by the thought that he had come so close to losing this. He breathed Prowl’s designation in return, only to get another quiet laugh. “Yes, Jazz?”
“I like you. Frag that, I love you.”
The motorcycle glanced down at how they were wrapped about each other, then back at Jazz, a wry little smile tugging at his lips. “I know.”
The black and white mech grinned back, dropping his helm to rest against a gold chevron. “I should have told you earlier.”
“Perhaps I should have made it clearer that I reciprocated. Optimus and Ratchet are always telling me I’m too reserved about these things. Sari as well.”
Jazz shook his head and continued smiling as Prowl wrapped an arm about his neck, then tugged him down to finally bring them together for a kiss.
= = =
“Y’think they’re alright, Prowler?”
The black and white Datsun looked at the Porsche leaning against his office wall, attention clearly no longer on the day’s tasklist. He smiled and brushed a hand over his chestplates, where his sparkchamber was concealed. Jazz’s surprised expression was quickly replaced by a brilliant grin.
“What, even with the other dimension thing going on?” At Prowl’s nod, the Ops mech laughed. “Spark echoes! Why didn’t you say anything earlier?”
“I didn’t realise it until recently myself.”
“He’s happy, then?”
“He was, before the last of our connection faded. Exceedingly so.”
“S’good.” Jazz murmured contentedly, finally settling and picking up his datapad again. Prowl agreed, doing the same.
“Yes. It is.”
