#tf jazz

[fakeartexe]

I love they went to similar sizes but somewhat different type of build to CEOxY/N

[vonellfolk]

Jazz 🩵

(Excuse my shitty markers)

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[gomita145]

new chapter and we almost lost prowl's precious sparklings! 😱thankfully ratchet and first aid were there to save them!

so now i'm curious...in a bad au way, ignore if you don't want to answer it. but what would be prowl's and everybody reaction if he lost one of the twins? or both of them???

would he blame himself, blame others for losing them, would jazz's feel more guilty or heck optimus blaming himself for not able to save them?

Oohhhhh this is such a morbidly intersting ask. Thanks for sending it over.

Before I answer, I just want to say that no sparklings will be harmed in “Well, I’ll Be Damned!”. I don’t have the heart to incoporate such a tragic theme like child loss or child injury. Although, there’s one scene, later down the road, where Smokescreen and Bluestreak will be in proximity to a dangerous situation, but rest assured their carrier is not going to let anything happen to them. 

That being said, let’s explore the interesting hypothetical you’ve presented. 

⚠️Content Warning for: Discussions of Child Loss, Mourning, and Grief. Lots of angst and hurt/no comfort. ⚠️

Long response incoming because I like to yap.

For simplicity’s sake: 

s!Jazz/c!Prowl: versions that are conjunxed.  

Jazz/Prowl: versions that hate each other. 

This is a more meta consequence, but the story, as I envision it and have outlined it, cannot continue if c!Prowl were to lose both of the twins. The Jazz/Prowl enemies-to-lovers plot line is actually dependent on c!Prowl successfully having little Bluestreak and Smokescreen. Without giving too much away, let’s just say that sparklings (especially those with little door wings) have the ability to bring out a softer side of Prowl.

In a scenario where c!Prowl loses his twins, these are some plausible reactions:

c!Prowl:

Here’s an excerpt from an upcoming chapter (still in the rough draft stage, so bear with me lol) that I think captures Prowl’s potential thought process:

“There was only one answer: shame. He had been unable to protect his sparklings, and in the process they had been the ones to pay the price for his oversight. It was only by the good fortune of Ratchet's presence that they had been saved and the good will of this universe's Jazz that they would recuperate from his failings.

How was he ever going to look Jazz again in the optics? To admit that he had failed as a carrier? He could feel tears starting to pool again.”

If he feels this guilty now, then c!Prowl is going to be absolutely devastated if he were to lose the twins.

The way I am approaching dimensional differences between characters is that there are fundamental core characteristics that tie them all together. They just happen to present themselves differently. For example, regardless of the universe, Prowl is going to be logic-oriented, organized, a workaholic, and genuinely invested in an Autobot victory. c!Prowl accomplishes this by being more patient and friendly, but Prowl accomplishes this by secluding himself in his work and being very by the book. However, Prowl possesses the same capacity to be as friendly as c!Prowl, but circumstances have just shaped him differently and hidden that part away. And vice versa.

So, the first thing that came to mind when I saw your ask is that losing his twins very well could be the catalyst the causes c!Prowl to become meaner and colder. He would also be navigating this grief separated from all his loved ones, so I can definitely see a scenario where he lashes out against the other Autobots. It would be such a whirlwind of guilt, anger, depression, and resentment that could cause him to shut down emotionally. Add in that he is once again in an active war, and I can see him purposefully focusing on work to ignore the pain.

High Command

Obviously, High Command is going to feel like crap because even though they didn’t know it was c!Prowl, they still ultimately pushed a carrier past his limits. I have this impression of Ironhide as having a soft spot for kids, so I think he would be especially shaken. They are all definitely going to consistently replay all the hints that something was wrong in their head because everything could have been avoided. 

Ratchet in particular is going to take the loss especially hard because he was the medic overseeing their treatment. He is always going to feel like he could have done more to help them. As we saw in chapter 6, he could have acted quicker. His silence is going to haunt him. He’ll continue treating c!Prowl, but every interaction is going to be laced with guilt and self-loathing. Ratchet is no stranger to losing patients, but there is a difference between losing a soldier and losing a civilian.

Optimus is going to crash out privately. He sees himself as this protector of the Autobots, so even though c!Prowl is not part of his universe, he is still an Autobot, and therefore falls under his protection. He is going to do his best to keep an eye on Prowl, and he would become a pillar for Prowl to lean on. He is going to feel guilty about not de-escalating the situation sooner.

Jazz: One of the defining traits for Jazz in this story is that he feels a profound amount of guilt for being unable to protect his operatives and his inability to save everybody. This is going to be catastrophic for his mental state because he is going to consider himself the straw that broke the camel’s back. I’ve been playing with the idea of potentially making Jazz superstitious, so there could be an added angst where he views the loss of his counterpart’s twins as a sort of karmic punishment for his inability to protect others.

c!Prowl's High Command

s!Jazz: Oh poor s!Jazz is going to blame himself while trying to assuage Prowl of his own guilt. I do not see a scenario where either of them turns/blames the other, but I 100% see s!Jazz convincing c!Prowl that it wasn’t his fault, just for him to harbor all the blame personally. He is going to blame himself for not being fast enough to notice that something was wrong and act. Peacetime is just going to be bitter. Extra angst points if Jazz stops playing music for a time because it reminds him of singing his sparklings lullabies before bedtime. 

!Autobots: If the rest of the Autobots in c!Prowl’s original universe find out, they are going to be equally gutted. Prowl’s carrying was such public knowledge that it was lowkey a group effort to make his carrying as easy as possible. They had all gotten invested. Some of the individual mechs (like Blaster, Red Alert, the Twins) are going to feel awful that they were not able to piece things faster. Optimus was away at the negotiation talks, so he might feel terrible for not being there when it mattered most.

Random Notes: 

There is something so terribly tragic about the concept of c!Prowl and s!Jazz losing their kids just as peace was going to be finalized. After surviving vorns at war, it is a random freak accident of the universe that messes everything up. 

I have no clue if s!Jazz and c!Prowl would want to kindle again. There would be mixed feelings about it. On one hand, after experiencing the joy of building a family, they still want to build a future together. At the same time, there’s always the risk of them subconsciously trying to replace what has been lost but can never be regained. I think it would take them a long time to finally decide to try again. As a result, they are 100% going to become super over-protective creators.

s!Jazz and c!Prowl's first disclosure of their sparklings' names would probably be the loss announcement :( or maybe they just decide to keep the names a secret.

Genuinely broke my heart to think about this scenario. There’s just so many different ways that characters can react given the overpowering nature of grief and mourning. It was an interesting activity for playing around with the characters.

That’s how I would approach it, but, as always, feel free to have your own interpretations of how characters would react.

Thanks for the ask! 

❤️❤️❤️🧸

[asinglebakedbean]

May I suggest JazzProwl cuddles or making treats together? If not, thats okay! I can still say your Transformer art brings me joy and I wish for you to have a delightful time drawing. Remember to stay hydrated, stretch and have yourself a treat. :D

Hi!!! Thank you for the suggestions! All drawing prompts are welcomed!

I'm glad that you like my art! It genuinely feels so good to know that it brings people joy. It really does make my day whenever I'm told that my art makes them smile. Thank you for the support, I had a fun time drawing this :D

Also, thanks to everyone who've left drawing suggestions! I'll get on those when I can :)

Prowl actually wears this apron in the Transformers Go! Go! Comic

I also drank water and had ice cream today, so that's 2/3 on the checklist :)

I would've done the JazzProwl cuddles, but I already kind of did that for my ES JP comic

[gomita145]

Relationships: Jazz/Prowl; Mature Tags: Enemies to Lovers, Mech Preg, Established Relationship

Summary: In one universe, Jazz and Prowl are doting conjunxes with twins on the way. They could not be happier and more in love. In another universe, Jazz and Prowl hate each other. They cannot be in the same room without it imploding. A momentary blip in the spacetime continuum results in a short chance encounter between the two pairs that will have lasting repercussions.

Chapter 6 Below (~10k words):

Ratchet was of the opinion that everything could have been avoided if Prowl had just attended his vornly physical examination. But of course, it was just his luck that one of the most intelligent bots he had ever met would have the good sense to avoid him like a plague. Such an advanced processor was truly wasted if it made decisions like that.

But, somehow, despite the fact they all routinely faced down the barrel of death because of the war, Ratchet had long grown accustomed to the fact that most soldiers believed the Medbay to be the scariest threat out there. He just had to meet them half-way. Give them counsel that they would surely ignore and be ready to treat them when they inevitably landed on one of his berths.

It is for this reason that when Prowl walked into the Command Meeting Room, with a frame that was visibly bigger than the last time he had seen him, Ratchet decided to keep his mouth shut. While most others sought comfort in hobbies or friends, Prowl enshrouded himself in a matrix of schedules and long winding to-do lists for a sense of security and normalcy. Giving Prowl his medical counsel, when he was mentally prepared for a meeting, was a surefire way for Ratchet to land on his bad side. It was too early in the orn to do that.

Instead, he decided that he would spend the meeting discretely watching Prowl to form a proper medical diagnosis or explanation for his new appearance.

He very quickly came to the conclusion that there was something gravely wrong with Prowl.

The first problem was that Prowl looked noticeably different. He had gained a significant amount of mass seemingly overnight, mainly around his upper body. A frame change was the most likely explanation; it was also one that infuriated Ratchet. Either Prowl had gone behind his back and contacted a third-party medic for such a procedure or one of the lower ranked medics had done it without his supervision. Both were undesirable choices.

The second problem was that Prowl, who wore his emotions close to his spark, was being highly emotive. It would be easier to make a statue smile than Prowl. And yet, he had easily flashed a smile to Jazz of all mechs.

Now he could have attributed that to whatever war of attrition those two had going on, if not for the doorwings. Prowl's doorwings were so artificially rigid and neutral that the only time he ever stumbled into the Medbay of his own accord was for joint pain treatment. So Ratchet knew something was wrong when Prowl's doorwings continued to twitch and droop without a care of external perception.

The third problem was the apparent memory loss and processor fog. Prowl's commitment to his duties was ironclad. So much so that while Ratchet reprimanded others for being negligent in their tasks, he actually had to beg Prowl to take it easy, which he never did. There was no way that Prowl would ever neglect any of his administrative duties.

The fourth was the sloppy cover story. It was something of an open secret among High Command that Prowl would often bend the rules when there was an objective he was trying to reach. The thing was that Prowl's web of lies was so tightly woven that it was mostly impossible to find any holes. A processor-related injury had to be the only explanation for why Prowl would attempt to spin such a flimsy tale.

The fifth was his continual attempts to invade Jazz's personal space. The sixth was his confusion concerning the Decepticons. The seventh was Prowl's own admission that something was wrong. And by that time, Ratchet had seen more than enough to mandate a medical examination.

It was for this reason that Ratchet was not as surprised as the others when Prowl clutched his helm in pain. He had a history of crashes and overheating. While that would not explain all of the problems that Ratchet had documented, it would explain a handful.

At that point, he had already jumped to his pedes to provide assistance. However, he, and pretty much the rest of the room, were stunned when tears fell and sobs started to violently shake their tactician's frame.

The inaction was quick to disappear when Ratchet saw Prowl's optics flashing a dim blue and a dark black, an indicator that he was very quickly undergoing a system shut down.

His optics had completely powered off as he saw knee joints start to buckle under the stress.

"Optimus!"

"I've got him!"

Before Prowl could collapse on the floor, Optimus managed to catch him.

As Ratchet rushed towards them, he felt a chill go down his struts as he heard static-filled desperate pleas.

"Please! Help them!"

They sounded less like pleas and more like mourning wails. It was an ugly guttural sound that sounded so foreign from the dermae of their usually stoic Second-in-Command. The same voice that barked orders and reported casualties without inflection was now reduced to the incomprehensible shrill of a voice box trying desperately to choke out words it had run out of time to release.

He heard Jazz, who had previously been frozen on the spot, quietly murmur behind him, "Help them?"

It was an astute observation. One that Ratchet had almost overlooked because he was too focused on Prowl's worsening condition.

Help them. Who was "them"?

That was a question that could be answered later. He had a patient to help right now.

Together, Optimus and him managed to carefully lay Prowl on his back for some preliminary first aid. Ratchet plugged in and accessed his internal diagnostics, trying to find the most immediate concerns.

[ENERGY CONSERVATION MODE ACTIVATED. NON-VITAL SYSTEMS SUCCESSFULLY SHUT DOWN.]

A sign of relief escaped him.

By itself, a system shut down could be caused by a plethora of reasons—both fatal and non-fatal. If it was triggered by the activation of energy conservation mode, then it was caused by either starvation or energon loss. Seeing as Prowl wasn't currently bleeding out, it must have been the former.

[CURRENT FUEL LEVEL AT 2%]

He grimaced. "Somebody get me some energon! The fool's tanks were empty."

He knew that Prowl's tendency to skip rations for work was bound to bite him in the aft, but now was not the time to gloat. That could come later.

"Are you telling me all that was simply because he forgot to fuel?!" Ironhide asked incredulously.

Ratchet ignored him. Low fuel levels might have explained his sudden collapse, but it would not explain the rest of his behavior.

"That can't be right. I saw him fill an energon cube in the morning." Blaster said, a frown on his face in contemplation.

"There's a chance he might not have ingested it," Wheeljack added. "On our walk here, Prowl said that it looked and smelled different."

"No way! We refilled our cubes at the same time, and it was the exact same blend as always."

"I said the same thing."

"So he filled his cube, but did not consume it because he perceived that there was a difference?" Optimus asked. His face twisted in worry and concern.

"It appears so. I was hoping that manually filling his tank would be enough, but if Wheeljack says he was exhibiting an adverse reaction, then I'll opt to refill it with med-grade energon instead."

Instincts told him that there had to be more to the story. Ratchet continued reading through the diagnostics.

[CURRENT COOLANT LEVELS AT 0%]

Were Prowl conscious, Ratchet would have given him a lengthy lecture about the importance of not ignoring system warnings. But what did he know, he was only a medic.

Lack of coolant levels and Prowl's TacNet were a disastrous combo. It was completely possible that his processor had overheated, which could explain Prowl's abnormal behavior. He simply hadn't been in a proper state of processor.

But that still didn't fully explain Prowl's spark-wrenching cries.

There was something missing. A vital piece of information tying all of this together. He continued searching for an answer he had no proof existed, relying only on sheer instinct.

[CARRIER PROTOCOLS CURRENTLY OFFLINE.]

Currently offline? Why not simply offline? Ratchet felt a heavy weight at the bottom of his own tanks. He continued searching. There had to be more to the story.

[FORGE STATUS: CURRENTLY OFFLINE. (2) SPARKS DETECTED.]

Pieces finally fell together. Increased mass. Increased displays of emotion. Energon aversion. "Currently offline". "Help them". Them. Two sparks. Two sparklings.

Prowl was carrying.

Horror filled Ratchet as he realized his initial diagnosis had been wrong.

[WARNING!: (2) SPARKS AT RISK OF ABSORPTION.]

Only a lifetime of war and the gravitas inherent to the situation made it so that Ratchet was quick to respond. The situation was too serious to entertain inaction or questions.

"Optimus! I need to get him to the Medbay now!" In hindsight, his shouting no doubt only increased tensions within the room. Thankfully, Optimus was quick to comply with his instructions and helped position Prowl in his arms.

"Ratchet, what's wrong?" Ironhide asked. "I thought it was just empty tanks."

"Prowl is gravid. I need to get him to the Medbay as soon as possible."

"Prowl? There's no way."

"Ratch, come on—"

"There's no time for that! Red Alert, please clear the hallways."

Only after receiving an affirmative from a wide-opticed and sparking Red Alert did Ratchet rush through the halls.

As he sped through the hallways, careful not to jostle his patient too much, he heard the wild thrumming of his spark. 3 sparks. There were three sparks counting on his ability to make it to the Medbay and operate.

The smallest voice of insecurity asked him: When was the last time he had even operated on a carrier?

[ (1) OUTGOING CALL TO "FIRST AID".]

"Hi Ratchet! Do you need something? I thought you were in an officer's meeting?" Came the cheery and welcome voice of First Aid.

"Aid! I need you to prepare one of the rooms in the intensive care division. Make sure there's already energon and coolant drips ready to go. I hope to avoid it, but prepare a tray for surgical materials and two cassette-sized medical containment pods. I'll be there soon."

"Understood."

[(1) CALL TO "FIRST AID" ENDED.]

Ratchet was immensely grateful for the fact that First Aid knew better than to waste time asking questions in matters of life or death.

He received a ping with the room details. He could not have asked for a better apprentice.

With that out of the way, he finally had some time to actually think about the implications. Prowl was carrying. There was no way that he had been carrying all this time. No way he wouldn't have found out. Prowl would have to be idiotic to attempt to carry without medical intervention. He was stubborn, irritable, patronizing at times, but never idiotic.

Arriving at the established room, he quickly ordered First Aid to help load Prowl on a berth. He sanitized his servos and prepared to get to work.

This scenario seemed impossible. He had a million questions. A hundred doubts. But one thing was for certain, regardless of the mystery of how it happened, Ratchet was going to save them.

He had to.

—-

While many claimed it went beyond the typical demands of his position, Optimus felt he had a moral obligation to look out after every single one of his Autobots, which is why he was currently waiting in the Medbay hoping to hear news of Prowl's status.

After Ratchet's exclamation that Prowl was supposedly carrying and his subsequent rush to the Medbay, the entirety of High Command had followed in his pedesteps. Following the eerie echoes of Ratchet's sirens, Optimus could only hope that everything would be alright.

After hope came the guilt.

How had he not noticed?

Prowl was his Second-in-Command, a trusted advisor, an ally, a friend. Whether it be a quick scheduled meeting, a run-in while both were working from within the Primal Chamber of Command, or a late night strategy session, they interacted near daily.

How in Primus's name had Optimus not realized something was different?

That's the question that perplexed him the most. Vorns of working together meant that he had grown accustomed to Prowl's eccentricities just as Prowl had grown accustomed to his. He considered himself to be an astute mech, so he felt confident saying that there had been no shifts in Prowl's behavioral patterns or in his physical appearance. Save for this morning, everything had seemed normal.

In fact, the more he thought about it, the more he realized that the only abnormalities in his behavior had all taken place during the joors surrounding their usual High Command meeting. He should have known something was wrong the klik that Prowl missed their usual pre-meeting check-in—although that was a highly technical term for what by all means was simply an opportunity for the two of them to fuel together.

He felt the guilt settle in. He should have noticed. Perhaps then they wouldn't be in this situation. The only thing worse than lying on a medberth was waiting outside in anticipation of a friend's status.

A nearby conversation pulled him from his thoughts.

"Apologies, Commander Ironhide, but I am not authorized to disclose that information to you," First Aid said.

"At least tell us if he and his sparkling are going to be alright," Ironhide responded.

First Aid looked around before sympathetically saying, "It's too soon to tell. Ratchet is still working on them. If you'll excuse me, I have other patients to attend to in his stead."

Noticing that Ironhide was about to say something, Optimus stepped in. "Understood. Thank you, First Aid."

The young medic tilted his helm in appreciation and took his leave.

Optimus took a breem to take in the status of his High Command. The mood was somber. With First Aid's intervention, Red Alert had finally managed to calm down, but he was in his own processor. Just as they all seemed to be.

"It just doesn't make any sense." Blaster said to the room at large. It was unclear if he expected a response or if it was an attempt to break the silence that engulfed them all.

"What part? That Prowl's carrying or that someone would want to frag Prowl?" Ironhide dejectedly tried joking.

Optimus suppressed a small sigh. "Ironhide," he chided gently.

Ironhide was not a patient mech. Optimus could tell that the frontliner was itching to know what was going down beyond the closed doors. He also knew that despite his gruff exterior, Ironhide had a soft spark. Behind the crassness was an anxiety that pride would not allow him to express.

"Sorry, was just trying to brighten the mood." The frontliner mumbled. He turned towards Wheeljack, who seemed deep in thought. "You know, earlier when we saw Prowl and you mentioned a 'condition', I never would have guessed that he was talking about carrying."

"I keep going over that conversation in my processor. Prowl implied that Ratchet was aware of his carrying status. Yet, Ratchet seemed just as surprised as the rest of us. Why would Prowl lie about that when he could have just kept silent?" Wheeljack asked.

"Carrying aside," Red Alert said, "nothing that Prowl said or did today made any sense. You'd think he was a newbuild by the way he was acting."

"Maybe it was just a side effect of carrier coding? I hear that it can really affect a mech's processor." Blaster mused.

"To the extent that he seemingly forgot about his duties? We all know the mech is a workaholic." Ironhide added in doubt.

"It's like he was a completely different mech," Red Alert said. His optics brightened as he said, "This has to be a Decepticon plot! There's no other reasonable explanation."

And perhaps it would be a lot easier to blame the Decepticons, then to accept a reality where their attentiveness over a fellow officer's well-being had simply slipped their notice.

But Optimus really did not want to see another one of his officers on a medberth, so he tried to gently dissuade Red Alert from his catastrophizing. "Before we jump to any conclusions or make any judgments, let's talk to Prowl first. Perhaps, this is just some sort of misunderstanding."

That being said, Optimus had no clue what sort of misunderstanding would justify Prowl hiding his carrying status for quartexes. There was something that he was missing. Something that would help bridge the gaps in his current understanding of the situation. He hoped that simply asking Prowl would yield the answers that he wanted, but something told him it would not be that easy. Matters of the spark were difficult when it came to Prowl.

He caught glimpse of a muted visor. Jazz was abnormally quiet. The saboteur tended to be their unofficial morale officer, so it spoke volumes when he was silent. He placed a servo on his shoulder as a silent show of support.

"I can never understand what goes through that mech's processor," Jazz said quietly.

Whatever else was plaguing the saboteur, he kept it to himself, and Optimus decided it was best not to prod. It was no secret that Jazz and Prowl had the most tumultuous relationship among High Command. Prowl's rigidity in planning did not pair well with Jazz's more improvisational tendencies. There was no telling what was currently running through his processor.

Instead, Optimus occupied an empty corner and simply stared ahead, waiting for Ratchet to come through the doors bearing good news.

Impatience was not becoming of a Prime, but he felt just as agitated as the rest of his inner circle even if he was doing his best to hide it. He knew that Prowl and his sparkling were in the best possible servos, but he hated the thought of a newspark coming to harm on account of unintentional negligence.

There was a doubt gnawing away at his circuits. Did Prowl not trust them? Did Prowl not trust him?

He knew that Prowl tended to be a solitary mech, but to think that he would go to such lengths left a bitter taste on his glossa. How could the same mech that fought alongside him not trust him enough with such a big personal development?

And against his best attempts, there was a coiling displeasure at his Second-in-Command's actions. The war was no place for a sparkling. Prowl in all of his infinite intelligence should have known this. He had no idea how Prowl could have possibly gotten himself in this situation in the first place. Mechs didn't just magically become carriers overnight. How could a mech renowned for his logic make a choice that seemed to defy every rational convention?

His faint anger dispersed. Was this the reason why? Had Prowl simply deemed it easier to navigate it alone than to have to deal with judgemental optics?

He felt a sense of pity take hold.

In a rare crack in his composure, Optimus tiredly rubbed his optics.

Where would they go from here?

He hoped the Matrix would grant him the strength to navigate this.

—-

Some might be surprised to know Jazz's choice to wear a visor actually stemmed from the old phrase: the optics are the window to a mech's spark.

In addition to the visual coolness factor and the added features a visor interface added, it was, first and foremost, a protective barrier to trap whatever threatened to escape without his permission.

Smiles, winks, scowls, grins, laughs, those were all easy to fabricate for most mechs. Jazz would know. He was by far the best at it. He could easily slip into whatever facade he wished to distract others from the bubbling torment that threatened to leak through the thin veneer of self-confidence he had perfected.

But even his optics and the revelations they contained could never be silenced, only muted.

And vorns in Spec Ops had long taught Jazz just what a fatal vulnerability this was. Afterall, his survival on missions was dependent on his ability to quickly call out bluffs, detect weaknesses, and fool others. Optics could make or break a mech, and, more often than not, they broke them, so why risk it? Better to cover his optics and protect his spark.

Optic contact was significantly easier this way. With a visor between pairs of optics, it was a one-sided transaction, where Jazz gained more than he lost.

Or at least it was supposed to be, because in those brief moments before Prowl had collapsed, the tactician had looked at him so intently that Jazz almost felt the need to check if his visor was still on. He hated it. He hated the fact that such vulnerability had been caused by the servos of the one most likely to cause the most damage with it.

And he absolutely hated just how wretched the infamous Autobot Second-in-Command's optics had looked. Oh Jazz had prayed for an orn like this. To see the so-called "sparkless" commander taken down a peg and finally succumb to the same emotional turmoil he carelessly inflicted on others. He thought he would have been jumping in pleasure, not stunned into inaction as typically silent optics quickly announced every single emotion possible.

There was no satisfaction there. Jazz just felt like scrap because a little voice in his helm held him accountable for the tactician's collapse. And even though he hated the mech, guilt had a tendency to dig into him and tear him apart.

His previous theory of Prowl playing mind games fell apart because there was no way Prowl would ever willingly engage in such a public breakdown. The opportunity to come up with a new explanation vanished when Ratchet had proclaimed that Prowl was carrying.

Denial had been the first reaction. There was no way that Prowl had been carrying and nobody had noticed. At the very least, there was no way that Ratchet would have missed all of the warning signs.

Not only that, but Jazz could not fathom a scenario where the ornery mech would ever think it appropriate to have a sparkling. If he had to make a list of which Autobots were best suited to be a carrier, Prowl would be dead last.

Everything he knew of the mech seemed to be antithetical to carrying. Prowl hated loud noises, regularly forgot to fuel, cared only about paperwork, lacked the ability to emote, had the emotional intelligence of a wrench, could not hold a proper conversation, and just seemed so bland and devoid of spark.

How could the same mech that gladly sacrificed their troops think they had any right to raise a sparkling? How could he that tossed away life think they were capable of nurturing a new one?

Despite Prowl's outward emphasis on consistency and logic, every once in a blue moon, he would make a decision that seemed to defy all logic, and Jazz hated how he could not always predict it.

So here he was, waiting in the Medbay hoping that the same mech whose downfall he had once prayed on was alright because the thought of a sparkling coming to harm's way was heartbreaking. The war had desensitized him to a lot. It had never prepared him for this.

He dimmed his visor and waited.

—-

Ratchet was not a big believer of Primus nor of the divine, but he almost considered it a miracle that Prowl and his sparklings had been stabilized without sustaining any significant damage.

It had been a couple of joors since then. First Aid had long left to attend to the rest of the Medbay, but Ratchet felt compelled to stay. If for no other reason than the fact that he could remember the erratic EM field full of despair and fear that Prowl had been emitting. Waking up alone in the Medbay would no doubt cause the worried carrier to fear the worst.

That was not to say they had escaped unscathed. Out of the three, Prowl was faring the best. With replenished fuel and coolant levels, at worst, he would just suffer from a couple joors of getting his frame and processor back to boot. It was the sparklings that he was more concerned about. They would live, but their spark energy was weaker than it should be.

Primus forbid there was another complication. Ratchet could not definitively say that they would be as lucky next time.

A sire's presence could help. With the spark energy they absorbed from Prowl, the sire's presence would be a steady balm for their brush with death. From what he had seen, given the current status of the sparklings, it seemed the sire had played an active role in Prowl's carrying.

The sire.

Ratchet rubbed his face with his servos in exhaustion. The identity of the sire was yet another question in a long list that he had for Prowl.

Prowl was the last mech that Ratchet ever expected to carry, much less sustain any sort of intimate relationship. It's not like he was privy to that information, but if Prowl regularly skipped rations because of being too focused on his work duties, then he highly doubted he had time to engage in such affairs.

Plus, even then, the list of mechs who tolerated Prowl and that Prowl tolerated in turn was short. Prowl did not rub him as the type to mingle with the rank and file in such an intimate way. Knowing him, Prowl would be a stickler for codes of conduct concerning fraternization with the lower ranks.

That left only mechs of substantial rank as plausible contenders.

He knew for a fact it wasn't him.

Optimus came to mind, only because he knew for a fact that Prowl and Optimus had a bit of an unconventional friendship. But even that was a stretch, seeing as Optimus's attention was always concentrated on the war effort.

Prowl was consistently miffed by Ironhide's brashness, Red Alert and Inferno were together, Wheeljack was too enraptured by his experiments, Blaster and Prowl's relationship seemed to be simply professional, and Jazz and Prowl would rather tear each other apart.

So who could possibly be the sire?

A soft knock splintered his speculations. Opening the door, he was greeted with a line-up of the exact same mechs he had been contemplating.

"Ratchet, my apologies, but we tried asking for an update and were shut down on account of patient confidentiality. That was joors ago," Optimus whispered.

Ratchet had the best damn apprentice ever.

"How is he?" Blaster asked solemnly. "How are they?" He corrected.

Ratchet glanced back to the medical berth behind him and glanced back to the worry-stricken mechs in front of him. He let out a sigh and beckoned them in.

"They're fine for the time being. I'm a little concerned for the sparklings."

"Sparklings? As in plural!" Blaster blurted out.

Ratchet just nodded his helm tiredly and continued his previous train of thought. "It's nothing too serious, but the sire's presence would work wonders right about now." He turned an accusing finger towards them, "So if you know anything, now would be the perfect time to step forward."

"You think it's one of us?" Ironhide balked.

"I don't see Prowl messing around with anybody that's not in the top brass."

"A neutral?" Jazz threw in.

It was a potential option that Ratchet had not considered. With a neutral, Prowl would not have to worry about the dilemma of being intimate with a subordinate. But, it was an unlikely explanation.

"My examination points to the fact that the sire has played an active role throughout the entirety of his carrying. In fact, I am willing to bet it is the only reason that the sparklings were able to survive a complete system shut down. We aren't currently stationed anywhere near a neutral settlement."

"A Decepticon then!" Red Alert exclaimed.

"But Prowl hates Decepticons." Wheeljack rebutted.

"Then, we will just have to wait to ask him ourselves," Optimus said.

"I have no way of knowing when he might wake up."

And of course because this was Prowl, who had a knack for exceeding expectations, everybody's optics fell on the berth when they heard a low groan escape the mech of the joor.

Ratchet was determined to make sure that the first thing Prowl saw when opening his optics was a familiar face. He saw as darkened optics turned a dim light blue before lighting up into a familiar icy blue color.

"Ratchet?" A frail voice croaked out.

"Prowl, how are you feeling?"

"I had the weirdest recharge flux."

"Uh…I don't think it was a flux." Ironhide mumbled.

Ratchet actually had a lot of respect for Ironhide. He was an admirable warrior, had an incredible sense of loyalty, and was a great drinking partner. But Primus himself could not instill tact in him, which is why Ratchet almost felt compelled to weld his mouth shut when he saw Prowl stiffen at his remark.

Prowl slightly turned his helm towards his visitors. Standing so close, Ratchet heard the hitch in his ventilations. Having been his medic for hundreds of vorns, Ratchet recognized the glassy stare that indicated Prowl was very quickly compiling a dozen escape plans and processing large amounts of data. All things that an injured carrier should 100% not be doing.

He also recognized the wild stare of a bot that was ready to bolt. Something that should be avoided at all costs given his sparklings' fragile state.

From: Commander/ Chief Medical Officer Ratchet

To: Group Comm: "Autobot High Command" minus "SIC/CTO Prowl"

Subject: [CARRIER PROTOCOLS ACTIVE]

Prowl's carrier coding makes it so that he is highly volatile after such a traumatic event. If we stress him out, he might flee or lash out. So help me, I will weld anybody who sets him off to the wall.

After receiving pings of acknowledgment, Ratchet took on the hefty task of trying to calm Prowl down, somebody who he knew had a tendency towards paranoia and overthinking.

"Prowl, listen to me. You are safe here. Your sparklings are fine."

Pure terror flashed on Prowl's face. Gracelessly, he launched himself off the bed and made it a few steps before he crashed to the ground.

"Careful!"

"Prowl, come on, you're fine!"

"Everything is going to be okay."

The platitudes of fellow officers fell on deaf audials as Prowl scrambled backwards, attempting to put as much distance between him and them. He only stopped when doorwings hit a corner.

The uneasy feeling returned. Something wasn't right. There was no reason for Prowl to fear them, and yet fear was as plain as day.

It was almost like he considered them threats.

"Prowl," Optimus's voice rumbled in gentle tones as he very slowly approached the trembling Praxian, "My friend, please understand we mean you no harm. We want to help you."

"You're not my friend." Prowl's optics regained their analytical glint.

"Pardon?"

Prowl gritted his dentae. "You are not my friends. This is a farce of some sort, whether a Decepticon ploy or an external party, I do not know."

"What type of reverse psychology is this?!" Red Alert exclaimed."If anything, you're the one who is part of a Decepticon plot!"

Ratchet put himself in between Prowl and Red Alert, attempting to block the situation from escalating. He had no clue who was worse in the moment: a paranoid carrier or a paranoid security director.

Prowl's optics were sharp and determined, and Ratchet dreaded to see the sort of machinations that were sure to come from that. Doorwings were flared wide, no doubt collecting every bit of data that they could.

"Prowl, come on, it's just us." Wheeljack tried to reason.

"And who exactly is 'us'?" Prowl asked in a tone that indicated he was being serious in his question.

Ratchet felt his tanks turn. He knew that forgetfulness was a common side effect of carrier coding, but this seemed like Prowl had forgotten who they were completely.

However, that couldn't be right. Prowl had properly remembered his designation upon waking up.

Optimus in his infinite patience slowly provided Prowl the information he seemed to have forgotten. "I am Optimus Prime. You seem to be familiar with Ratchet. That's Red Alert, Blaster, Ironhide, Wheeljack, and Jazz."

Prowl's gaze followed each designation and measured up each mech. It almost looked as though he was scrutinizing them, taking into account every detail, even down to the smallest scuff on their paint. He saw a flicker of something flash rapidly across Prowl's face when he landed on Jazz.

"And you are Prowl, my trusted Second-in-Command."

Surprise colored Prowl's face. He shook his helm in what seemed to be disbelief. His servos were trembling, and Ratchet feared for his health. He needed Prowl back on the medberth.

"What do we need to do to show you that you are safe?" He asked in a softer voice. It was a blunt question. Straight to the point, just like Prowl liked them. It also had the added benefit of handing control of the situation to the tactician.

"I have some questions." Prowl stated in a slightly more authoritative tone. Doorwings had raised up and his posture had straightened, which Ratchet took as a small victory.

"I will do my best to answer them," Optimus responded.

Prowl pointed at the Autobrand on Optimus's chassis. "The Autobots. What do you fight for? Who do you fight against?"

They were such simple questions that they almost felt deceptive. The answers were so ingrained into the fabric of their reality that to ask them felt redundant.

Optimus was clearly caught off guard too, but he quickly began to answer. "We fight for freedom, for the right to live our lives as we see fit. We are currently fighting against the Decepticons, who seek only conquest and power."

Blue optics narrowed as they processed the answer. When Prowl was seemingly content with his analysis, he asked, "What is the current state of your conflict?"

It was ironic that the mech best suited to answer that question was the one asking it.

"It depends on the front. Currently, we have been trying to reclaim some of the fronts lost in previous assaults."

Doorwings twitched erratically, which indicated that Prowl was distressed at the answer. Ratchet was about to intercede to try and calm him down when Prowl spoke again.

"Show me the Matrix." He demanded.

It was a bold request that stunned the entire room. One did not just simply ask to see the most holy artifact that their civilization possessed. Not that Ratchet cared about that. It was the principle of the matter.

Despite the boldness, Optimus considered the request and slowly began to walk towards Prowl.

Ironhide grabbed their leader by the servo to prevent him from advancing.

"Optimus!" Red Alert shouted. "This is clearly an attempt to steal the Matrix."

"I understand your concerns, but I do not believe it is."

Ratchet held his ventilations as he saw Optimus continue approaching. Prowl's frame tensed as he approached. Either Optimus was losing an optic or Prowl was going to drop from sheer stress.

The tell-tale sound of a transformation sequence echoed around the room, before a bright blue light engulfed the room.

"You say you are not my friend, but I do not believe you are a foe either. You recognize this right?"

"The Matrix! But how do you?" Prowl stared wide-opticed at the relic, looking up at Optimus with wonder clear on his face.

"Prowl, please, let us just talk. Return to berth, and let Ratchet help you and your sparklings." Optimus slowly backed away to the opposite side of the room as a demonstration that he was not a threat.

Ratchet did not believe in Primus or the divine, but in that moment, he was profoundly grateful that the Matrix had actually worked for once. It had seemed to soothe Prowl for the time being.

One klik turned into two which turned into three which turned into a full breem and yet Prowl did not move.

"Ratchet," Prowl spoke as if the name were foreign on his glossa, "my creations, are they okay?"

He knew that sugarcoating the truth would only further test Prowl's trust, so he opted to tell him the cold clinical truth. Something the tactician had always appreciated.

"You suffered a system shut down that deactivated your carrier protocols and your forge. As a result, your sparklings were temporarily left without access to vital systems. I was able to stabilize all three of you. However, their spark energy is lower than it should be. Prowl, you need the sire by your side to improve their condition."

A heartbroken and grief-stricken expression appeared on his face. Ratchet had never seen that expression on Prowl's face before. It made his own tanks lurch.

"What if he's not here?"

"Do you mean to say that the sire is dead?"

Prowl shook his helm.

"Is he on base?"

Prowl nodded.

"Great! We can just contact them."

Prowl shook his helm. "I don't think this base is of the same world as the one he is in."

"Huh? Do you mean the sire is in an off-world base?"

"I do not believe I am of the same universe as the rest of you," Prowl said bluntly, but hesitantly, as if he remained unconvinced by his own statement.

"What!?" Wheeljack exclaimed excitedly.

"That's not possible, right?" Blaster asked to no one in particular.

"Its always been theoretical, but this is the first time I've heard of a concrete occurrence of interdimensional contact." Wheeljack responded. Immediately, the engineer started speaking the language of science. "Prowl, do you mind explaining your reasoning?"

Prowl turned towards Optimus. "Your Matrix. In my world, Optimus Prime is also the bearer of the Matrix. Seeing as there is only a singular Matrix in the known universe, yours has to be an imitation, or so I thought until I felt its essence. The aura of divinity can not be replicated by common mech. It's not something that can be replicated."

Optimus nodded in agreement. "But there's more isn't there?"

"To put it bluntly, all of you look ever so slightly different and behave with varying degrees of deviation from the Autobots I am familiar with. At first, I thought it was just my carrier coding affecting my processor, but there are also differences in events."

"I presume this explains your claims of a ceasefire with the Decepticons."

"Yes. In my world, Optimus Prime and a selected delegation are currently engaged in negotiations, seeking to bring an official end to the war."

Ratchet briefly reflected on the state of their own war. It seemed to be unending. A small part of him found a bit of bittersweet solace in knowing that an end was possible, even if it was out of reach for them. It seemed that all the other commanding officers were reflecting on the same thing.

"I'm assuming that your Ratchet was aware of your status and providing adequate health guidance." He interjected. It would explain why Prowl seemed to be in such good help without his intervention.

"Yes. My Ratchet has overseen my entire carrying from beginning to end. It was him that put me on mandated medical leave, which is why I was barred from any sort of duty."

"If your story is true, then this explains why you looked clueless during today's meeting." Red Alert added, an air of suspicion still present in his voice.

"In my last examination, Ratchet warned me that he would work with Red Alert to prevent me from accessing my workstation, so I did not expect to be summoned for a meeting."

The craziest part of everything was that this made complete sense to Ratchet, even if he was dubious on the feasibility of it all. Perhaps it was because it provided the most succinct explanation for the orn's events. Prowl had been acting completely different because he was a completely different mech. All the weird behavior could simply be attributed to interdimensional differences.

"Did I walk you over or something?" Jazz asked in confusion.

Right. Prowl had claimed that Jazz had also been there at his last examination.

Considering that Prowl was well into his carrying, it would make sense that somebody had accompanied him up to the Medbay. But if his counterpart was anything like him, then Ratchet would have only allowed approved kin, friends, or the sire himself.

Categories that the Jazz of this universe would never fall under with their Prowl. Rivals, enemies, adversaries would be more likely to describe them.

But with the great unknown that was interdimensional differences, it was impossible to tell for sure.

This Prowl seemed to be more mellow, but he still retained the same intelligence. There was no telling what the Jazz of the other universe was like. There was a significant lack of an appropriate sample size for drawing conclusions.

He thought back to the few interactions Prowl had had with Jazz during the orn's meeting. He had entered, had chosen to sit next to Jazz, and had smiled towards him. All of which seemed to suggest at least an amicable relationship between the two.

But it had to go further than that, Prowl had reached out to Jazz twice. And both times that Jazz had rejected his advances, Prowl had looked heartbroken.

Why would Prowl reach out to Jazz at his most vulnerable state?

His optics widened. He took a glance at Prowl. In response to Jazz's inquiry, he was biting his dermae and refusing to make optic contact. A slight blue flush painted his cheeks.

No. Fragging. Way.

In the incredibly off-chance that Primus did exist, Ratchet had to give it to the mech, he had a twisted sense of humor.

Still refusing to make optic contact with anybody, Prowl responded, "In my world, Second-in-Command of the Autobot army and Head of Special Operations Commander Jazz is the sire of my sparklings."

Ratchet could almost laugh at the formalities that this Prowl tried to cushion the blow with. It seemed that some things never changed.

Jazz was frozen on the spot. A field that was usually tightly wrapped around the saboteur's frame slightly unwound, giving the room a taste of the underlying mortification and shock.

Only vorns of professionalism allowed Ratchet to maintain his composure at the revelation. Of course, the effort behind that restraint went out the door the second Ironhide opened his mouth.

A deep rumbling laugh made the spy aware of his slip in control. Ironhide clasped his shoulder and gave him a vigorous shake. "How does it feel to know the other you sparked him up?"

Ratchet was seriously considering banning Ironhide from the Medbay.

—-

Jazz considered himself to be somebody who could easily roll with the punches.

An early meeting after a terrible recharge schedule? Nothing a little warm energon can't fix.

Prowl acting weirdly during today's meeting? Fine. He just had to keep an optic out on the situation.

Prowl collapsing in a medical crisis? Concerning, but good thing the best medic on Cybertron was present to treat him.

Prowl is carrying? Statistically speaking, the dour tactician had to be somebody's type.

Prowl is actually a Prowl from a different universe? Okay. He was never one for science, but if 'Jackie says its possible, then he trusts him.

"In my world, Second-in-Command and Head of Special Operations Commander Jazz is the sire of my sparklings."

Another version of him had sparked up another version of Prowl? Nope. Nope. Nope.

There was only so much nonsense he could take in a short period of time.

His previous guilt was washed away with utter mortification.

Jazz could only stand in shock at the revelation. For somebody who prided himself on his ability to maintain appearances, he must have let something slip because the singular klik he made optic-contact with Prowl, the tactician's doorwings drooped and he flinched.

His occupation required him to think quick on his pedes, but how was he supposed to respond to the fact that a version of him had been intimately involved with somebody who looked exactly like the mech he hated the most.

Just a joor or so ago, he had been contemplating the feasibility of Prowl even being a carrier, and now the universe had seen it fit to present the scenario where not only Prowl was a carrier but Jazz of all mechs was the sire.

Him? A sire? Jazz could barely keep his operatives alive, much less a newspark.

Thankfully, Red Alert saved him from having to respond.

"Wait! This can be a potential Decepticon plot to take out Jazz! We all know he has one of the highest bounties."

And for the second time that orn, Jazz felt compelled to agree with Red Alert because an assassination attempt was somehow more digestible then the alternative.

Seemingly sensing Red's growing apprehension, Optimus stepped in. "Prowl, I do not intend to accuse you of lying, but I need you to understand that this is a lot for my mechs to take in. I fear the burden of proof falls on your shoulders. Is there any way you can definitively prove your story true."

Dermae curved in a slight frown and optical ridges scrunched in concentration. Icy blue optics glazed in thought. Optical mechanics slightly shifted as scenarios and calculations were run. It was uncanny just how closely he resembled their Prowl. Just without his usual snark or attitude. An improvement to be honest.

"Permission to retrieve a possession from my subspace?" Prowl asked.

Red Alert immediately flared his plating. "Depends. What is it?"

"A holoprojector."

Visual proof would actually go a long way to corroborating his story. Jazz had to admit that it was a good idea, even if he feared what files were stored away.

"Granted."

Prowl slowly took a box out of his subspace, careful to document each movement.

"I thought you said it was a holoprojector." Red Alert remarked.

"The holoprojector is inside."

"It's a pretty box," Blaster commented from the side.

It was a small box, unlikely to contain anything dangerous. It looked a bit like the trinket boxes that Jazz had in his own habsuite. He hated the implications of that. The box  had ornate geometric designs that covered the entirety of it.

Prowl's optics lit up, and he gave a small smile. "Thank you. Sunstreaker made it as a gift."

Sunstreaker's artistic streak seemed to be a universal constant. Unlike Prowl's smile, which was still going to take some getting used to.

A small image was projected as Prowl finally turned on the holoprojector. The room went quiet as an image was projected. It was a pretty innocuous image all things considered.

It appeared to be taken in the Rec Room as various bots went about their own activities. In the corner, Jazz could make out the familiar frames of the Spec Ops bots. Bumblebee, Cliffjumper, and the Twins were engaged in some sort of game on the screen. Hound and Mirage were nearby. It warmed his spark to see that his team's bond endured.

His optics widened when he caught a glimpse of himself. With his black-and-white paint job and blue visor, his counterpart was sitting in a table with presumably the rest of High Command. All were highly focused on an arm wrestling match between Ironhide and Optimus.

Wheeljack and Ratchet sat between Jazz and Prowl.

He let out a small sigh of relief. Nothing too incriminating in that image. Everything could still be one elaborate joke. On to the next.

The image changed. This one depicted Sideswipe and Sunstreaker mid-laughter pointing at two bots slathered in an obnoxious orange color. Upon closer inspection, he bemusedly realized the unfortunate victims were none other than Ratchet and Prowl. The chevrons and doorwings gave them away.

"Glad to see their penchant for mischief follows," Ratchet sarcastically retorted.

"Is that so? You and I were not the intended victims, which just made it all the better for them." Prowl reminisced fondly.

Jazz actually shivered to think what sort of punishment awaited the Twins if one of their pranks went awry in the same way.

The next projection was actually a video. Prowl actually looked bashful. Jazz had a bad feeling, but curiosity made him look.

The first thing he noticed was that it was a memory file.

He felt his ventilations hitch as he saw himself standing next to Prowl lying on what appeared to be a medical berth. It was uncanny to see just how comfortable they were around the other. They looked so relaxed around the other.

"I'm actually surprised to see the both of you here considering how often I have to hunt you down." A disembodied voice chastised them. Ratchet.

"Not like I had a choice," Prowl pouted. He actually pouted. "He dragged me down here."

"For good reason," the Jazz in the video said. It was bizarre to hear his own voice. It was like looking at memories he had no recollection of. With a closer view, he could make out some differences. The other Jazz looked stockier. A bigger chassis that's for sure.

"He's been overheating a lot faster, and his fuel consumption rate is off the charts." Jazz said worriedly.

"He's exaggerating. I've just had a bigger work load as of late." Prowl tried to explain.

"Must be something if you are actually admitting that. Come on then, open up."

Ratchet ran the tests before a surprised voice said, "You two couldn't even make it past the first decavorn of getting conjunxed?!"

Wait. Conjunxed? As in eternally sparkbonded to Prowl?

"Yes." Prowl's shy voice made him realize he had verbalized those thoughts out loud. "We got conjunxed a couple vorns prior to this. Jazz and I did not intend to kindle so soon. Not that we have any regrets."

Jazz felt like he was about to short circuit. It was one thing to spark a mech up. Pit! Prior to the war, it was not uncommon for accidental kindling to occur. It was a completely different thing to bond sparks for eternity. That was intentional.

His body shuddered as a visceral reaction to the concept of tying his spark to the cold tactician's for life.

It was a lot easier for his attention to return to the screen than to process what he had just learned.

"Twins," Ratchet said, which was apparently the wrong thing because Prowl immediately slumped over in response.

Jazz caught him and immediately pulled a cooling pad out of his subspace.

He tried not to fixate on those implications either.

But he was immediately caught off-guard by the tenderness with which his counterpart slowly soothed and spoke to Prowl. "Come on sweetspark. You're fine. I've got you." One servo held the cooling pad to his helm and the other rubbed small circles under his optic.

"Hmmm." With bleary optics, Prowl finally seemed to regain his bearings. "Twins?"

The motion indicated that Ratchet had nodded. "Neither of you ever do anything by halves do you?"

The Jazz on the holoprojector broke into a huge grin. He carefully wrapped himself around his conjunx and swayed them together slowly. "I'm a sire! And you're a carrier! Prowl, we are going to be creators!"

Light kisses were placed all over Prowl's face as matching excitement made itself apparent. It was a sweet display made bitter by Jazz's own experiences with the tactician. This seemed like something straight from a nightmare.

Prowl's optics brightened. "We have so many preparations to make!"

In his excitement, Jazz began to carry Prowl away. Both endlessly talking in excitement.

"I still haven't finished your examination!" Ratchet hollered after them. Not that they cared. The recording cut as Ratchet let out a long sigh.

With the exception of Optimus and Ratchet, who had at some point started discussing something among themselves, and Jazz, who had long mastered the art of facial control, the rest of the commanding officers stood with wide gaping jaws. Had Jazz not felt that his reaction would probably set Prowl off again, he would have joined them.

For his part, Prowl was doing his best to look unaffected, though his voice wavered and his optics seemed to be holding back tears. "Is that proof enough?"

Optimus cleared his throat. "Yes, Prowl, thank you. We just wanted to check up with you and see that you were fine. We did not quite expect…everything. Please feel better. You are in safe servos with Ratchet. We will take our leave now."

Primus bless Optimus for getting them out of that room.

Their leader led everybody, besides Prowl and Ratchet, to a nearby empty operating room.

"Everybody, I know this is a lot to take in, but please return to your usual stations. This matter is to remain completely confidential. Both for the protection of our guest and his family—"

"And our own," Ironhide finished. Consternation visible on his face.

Optimus nodded. "Red Alert has brought it to my attention that the Prowl we are familiar with is not currently replying to his comms."

Jazz's optics widened. Between the sparkling and conjunx announcement, he had completely forgotten about the implications this had for the current whereabouts of this world's Prowl. Hate him or love him, the mech knew how to pull his weight with administrative logistics. If news got out that the ruthless Autobot Second-in-Command was missing, there was no doubt that the Decepticons would take advantage of the situation. It was a disadvantage they could not afford at the moment.

"Do we have any leads?"

"From my limited understanding, my best guess and the best case scenario is that they simply switched places," Wheeljack speculated. "In that case, Prowl is most likely to be within Autobot jurisdiction, which greatly reduces the chances of harm."

Optimus's posture seemed to relax at that.

Blaster's face fell. "Prowl and Jazz are conjunxed in the other universe."

"Finally catching up?" Ironhide snorted.

Jazz echoed the sentiment. If anybody should be dumbstruck, it should be him. There was no reason why Blaster of all mechs seemed to be taking it the hardest.

"No, you don't understand. Prowl and Jazz hate each other. But you all saw how touchy-feely the other Jazz and Prowl are."

Images of his likeness kissing Prowl invaded his mind. He rubbed his helm in a misguided attempt to purge those images. "Blaster, don't remind me. Get on with it, mech."

"How is Prowl going to react when the other Jazz tries to land a smooch or something?" Blaster asked in horror. "He might actually kill him. Prowl might unintentionally set off the first interdimensional conflict."

The mighty Optimus Prime actually winced at that.

Maybe it was his pride, which refused to accept that the tactician would ever get one over him regardless of the universe, that compelled Jazz to come to his counterpart's defense.

"The other me is still the Head of Spec Ops. I have to believe that he can defend himself just fine. The better question is, what is a presumably over-protective sire trained in Spec Ops going to do when he realizes that the conjunx carrying their creations has been replaced by a potential fraud."

Oh.

Prowl might actually be a goner in that case.

Optimus let out a groan and covered his face with both servos. "I hadn't thought about either scenario." After taking a klik to collect himself, he ordered, "Wheeljack, make it the Science Division's priority to get this figured out. Perceptor and Skyfire have been granted full authorization to be informed of the circumstances."

"Understood, Prime." Wheeljack took his leave quickly, no doubt excited about the prospect of geeking out with the rest of the science team. It was not often that one discovered the theory of the multiverse was true. Jazz could relate. It was not often one discovered a version of themselves was conjunxed to somebody they detested and expecting twins.

"There's no way we are just letting him roam around right?" Red Alert asked.

"He's right," Jazz agreed. (Wow! Three times in one orn. Red Alert was on a roll!) "That Prowl might be telling the truth, but he's still a Prowl. We've all seen glimpses of his intelligence and how quick he was to catch-on. It would be a liability to keep him unsupervised. Not sure I'm willing to take that risk."

"You are both correct. Proper precautions will be taken. Red Alert, please assume your post at the Security Office and make sure no other anomalies have been detected via security cameras in the past joors. Ironhide and Blaster, please return to your stations and await further command for this particular situation. Jazz, a moment please."

After receiving three affirmatives, Optimus turned to him with a glint that Jazz didn't quite like. He very quickly pieced together that with Prowl missing and per the chain of command, he was now currently the standing Second-in-Command of the Autobot army.

"Jazz, I have a special mission for you."

Or not.

"Sure thing Boss-bot. What do you have for me?" He tried his best to show that he was unaffected.

"It has to do with matters of our current guest."

Jazz felt a foreboding sense of dread seep into his struts. He leaned against the wall, titling his helm to get Optimus to continue.

"Prowl's sparklings are currently suffering from low spark energy. Ratchet has speculated that the sire's presence could have a soothing effect on them."

"The sire isn't here."

"That is correct. But upon treating Prowl, Ratchet determined that his spark signature is identical to that of this universe's Prowl."

Jazz felt his spark falter at the implications. "That means my spark signature is the same as the sire's."

"Precisely."

He sighed. "You want me to hang around him in the hopes that we can trick the sparklings, so their conditions will improve."

"With the added benefit that under your watchful optic, we don't have to worry about additional security measures. Do you accept?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"You always have a choice."

Jazz pondered the mission for a bit. Being stuck with a version of Prowl in any capacity didn't exactly sound like his idea of a perfect orn. It actually sounded like a nightmare.

He tried to find an out.

"And what are his opinions on this? Can't exactly be easy to be separated from your conjunx and forced to spend time with his likeness that happens to hate yours. That's borderline cruelty."

"Ratchet will speak to him, but, based on what I've seen, I believe his first priority is the health of his sparklings."

Damn it. It was just his luck that this Prowl seemed to be a doting creator.

Vivid images of Prowl's face streaming with tears and begging for aid flashed in his processor. All Jazz could think about was his inaction. How he had just watched as Prowl had basically fallen apart in front of him. Granted he had no idea that this was a completely different Prowl at the time, but his apathy hung over him like specter. He was no different from him.

Regardless of his feelings towards this universe's Prowl, Jazz was not the type to leave a helpless carrier and their sparklings hanging. Plus, if a version of him had decided that this was his forever mech, he couldn't be all that bad. He hoped.

He nodded his helm hesitantly. "Okay. How are we doing this?"

Although Jazz believed that Optimus would have honored his word if he had rejected the mission, he got the sense that the Prime was proud of his choice. He wondered if Optimus would still feel the same if he knew it was contrition rather than compassion that motivated him.

"Ratchet wants to keep him overnight. I doubt you want to spend orns in an operating room. We can either clear a room in the barracks or you can watch over him in your habsuite. Of course, an additional berth will be provided."

Jazz pursed his dermae in thought. A different room would certainly help maintain a degree of separation between the two. But empty walls devoid of a personal touch could actually just make it more uncomfortable. It would assert the clinical nature of their time together.

In comparison, he really hated the idea of Prowl being in his personal quarters. But his habsuite came equipped with his music gear and entertainment devices, so they could both focus on something else besides the other. Plus, if Jazz was going to be uncomfortable then better it be in the comfort of his own hab.

"My habsuite will be fine. Don't worry about the berth. My couch transforms out. If that's all, I'll get a head start on cleaning up. If this Prowl is anything like ours, I don't want to get treated to a lecture on cleanliness right off the bat."

Optimus shot him an amused smile and patted his shoulder.

Jazz transformed and headed towards his habsuite, dreading what the coming orns would bring.

[daisyle125]

This was a little inside joke when I used to have cats, I would say “big stretch” every time they stretched.

[my-anndreamer]

Human Jazz and Prowl (I love them)

[mingthegod]

Cat mentality (•˕ •マ.ᐟ