Arrival

It was dark now. They had driven all day, from dawn to dusk. They should have been spotted by now, so why has no Decepticon yet shown himself? Was it a setup?  So many unforeseen factors; it made him nervous. They had been driving in silence for hours, long since losing words to say to each other. But words weren’t really needed to tell how they were feeling: Fear, anxiety, anger, and a dwindling sense of hope with a rising sense of frustration.
Red Alert was on the verge of a breakdown.
Sunstreaker could literally snap at any moment.
Bluestreak had begun to sink into his depression.
Ironhide’s driving had become more aggressive.
Skye’s vigor had faded.
It was only he who remained as fearful as he had been when they had started out. Self-loathing, pain, depression; Prowl could barely keep going. He called for a break and the others somberly agreed, quickly transforming by a rocky outcrop. They stood around awkwardly and quiet, not talking or bothering to consume any Energon. At one point, Ironhide and Sunstreaker started to maintenance their weaponry. The yellow twin brought out a wickedly sharp energy-blade with a sadistic grin. No doubt some Decepticon was marked for death. If not all of them…
The absolute untamed smile made Prowl shudder and he quickly looked away, facing the place where the sun had taken its last breath before plunging into the horizon. He wished he could see it’s light, feel it’s comforting warmth- This cold, dark world reminded him too much of his past. A small part of his CPU nagged him that the last time Jazz had probably felt the sun, it had been that fateful day when he had turned down his bonded’s request for a drive between the two of them. Prowl’s spark ached with questions; if he had been there, would Jazz still have been safe? Is he even alive?!
He sighed shakily, cycling air to cool his heated systems which were ablaze from his restlessness. He knew he would find the answer to his questions soon enough, and should it be too late and Barricade tortured him, so be it. He would deserve it for bringing this horror show of his own personal demons onto his loved ones.
“Brother?” He heard Bluestreak call from his place next to Sunstreaker, startling him out of his revelry. The Datsun looked back and saw all optics on him concernedly. Prowl turned fully to face them, reading each expression his group wore. Bluestreak was sitting, doors drooped, knees up, arms wrapped around himself. It wasn’t hard for the black and white to see that Blue was obviously distressed. Although ‘distressed’ seemed to put it mildly.
Ironhide shifted in the silence, sub-spacing his gun and laying against the rock, arms behind his head. “So where are they? We’ve gone farther than Jazz’r anyone else went.”
The question hit him hard. Where were the Decepticons? Why had they gone this long without getting captured? Prowl’s processer ached from all of this, but he struggled to keep his self-control, it would do him no good to breakdown here and now.
With a cycle of air, he looked back out to the vast desert. “I don’t know. I thought Barricade or at least Megatron would have had his Seekers come after us by now.”
He caught Red Alert twitch out of his peripheral vision, but heard Sunstreaker snarl first.
“Decepticons? You were trusting Decepticons to help us find them?!” The golden twin quickly rose, but Ironhide did as well and put a hand on the warrior’s shoulder, though he himself looked rather angry. Red Alert stood but Skye seemed to be ignoring the conversation and Blue just buried his face in his knees.
“So what now, tactician?” Sunstreaker spat the word out, “What is your oh so brilliant plan now?!” For a moment, Prowl actually wished Sideswipe was there, before he realized that with or without his twin, Sunstreaker would be as brash and uncensored as always.
“Prowl,” a calmer voice, Red, “Do we even know where the Decepticon base is?”
The middle Datsun turned and looked at the rescue Lamborghini straight in the optics.
“No.”
An un-amused and humorless laugh bellowed from Sunstreaker “Oh, how darling, Prowl, you rushed out to save Jazz without first knowing where he even is.” Crossing his arms, the yellow twin’s voice grew low and dark, “It’s no wonder Jazz needs to keep saving your aft. What are you going to do when Jazz dies?”
Prowl stiffened.
“Sunny!” Blue warned, grabbing the warrior’s arm, only to be pushed off.
Sunstreaker’s rant didn’t stop, he took casual strides as he mused. Prowl did nothing but clench his hands.
“I feel real bad for Jazz, he has to lower himself to protecting you from your problems because you’re too scared to do it yourself.”  Skyeraider turned her head slightly to the group, keeping her optics trained on Prowl,  Ironhide sighed at the signs of another ‘Sunny Outburst’, which were common in the Ark, Red remained silent while Blue remained apprehensive; one hand reached out to Sunstreaker in case he needed to pull him off his ‘older brother’. Sunstreaker was pushing it, from the way he saw the black and white’s doors rise to a dangerous angle.
But Sunny being Sunny, didn’t know when to quit. At least not without Sideswipe around.
“Honestly, I can’t wait to hear your excuse to Prime when we bring him back in a body ba-” Sunstreaker didn’t get the chance to finish. With optics cold as ice, Prowl had swung around and planted his fist right in Sunny’s face. He saw Skye turn away again, apparently the femme wanted nothing to do with the argument, Red started to twitch- burying his face in his hands and mumbled something- Ironhide leaned back and decided to let things run their course and Blue,
Blue started to sob, tears forming in his optics.
This wasn’t his brother. It had been. A long time ago, before Jazz had come into his life. Before that kindly mech with his big stupid grin had waltzed right in and melted the ice around Prowl’s spark before he stole it. He hated what Sunny was saying; the thought of Jazz being dead shook him to his spark.
Sunstreaker fell backwards with a grunt, looking up to see the cold, stoic tactician that he thought he’d never see again. Doors held high, back rigid, shoulders forced downward, Prowl bent and, with great strength, picked Sunstreaker up by his neck cables. Bluestreak saw Ironhide lean forward to be ready to tear the two apart, or get a closer look, he couldn’t tell. Red was still muttering to himself and Skye still took no part. What scared him the most was the tension he could see building between Sunstreaker and Prowl as the tactician still kept his ruthless grip on the warrior; the hand wrapped around his cables cutting off Energon circulation to Sunny’s body. Their optics were locked together in an invisible storm that brewed between them.
“Oh my,” an unfamiliar cry broke the intensity. “It looks as though the brotherhood of our dear Autobots have left them.”
“Or maybe they’re just frustrated because they haven’t interfaced in a week!” another cackled sadistically. Prowl broke contact with Sunstreaker and drew his weapon as the others did as well, save for Skye who stood motionless, still facing away.
Starscream and his trine stood on the outcrop above them, sneering to the six below them.
The three Decepticons jumped down with feline grace landing before the six with ease and, with no hesitation, began a slow and taunting pace forward. Ironhide managed to situate himself in front of Red Alert, protecting the Security Director in place of Inferno. It was never clear what had transpired between Red and Starscream during the infamous ‘Negavator incident’, but from Inferno’s face after Red Alert had told him and only him, it had been enough to cause the normally happy-go-lucky mech to seethe with enough anger to scare Brawn out of his way.
But Starscream, Skywarp, and Thundercracker seemed to have their optics trained solely on Prowl, and that their bemused expressions were being met with the glare that had only a moment ago been leveled at the yellow Lamborghini. Doorwings raised to deadly heights, optics nearly white from intensity, fists clenched tightly around the rifle in his hands; Prowl was close to snapping- the stress and frustration building up for an eruption.  
“Looks like someone’s found their ball-bearings!” Skywarp wheezed, clutching his sides as Thundercracker nudged the purple and black seeker.
Starscream grinned, folding his arms across his chest, “Really? I thought the Porsche had them, from the looks of it, I’d say miss ‘Prowlie’ is just PMSing.”
Thundercracker snickered, “A femme? Explains why his chest is so big!”
The three seekers roared in laughter, yet Prowl remained inpassive. Not moving a muscular cable.
Ironhide obviously didn’t share the trine’s sense of humor, “You Decepticreeps better quit yer laughin’ and start tellin’ us where our friends are!”
The three seekers composed themselves with little difficulty, all with those annoying Decepticon Trademark smirks. “Oh? Well, why don’t you make us tell you?” Starscream dared boldly.
“FINE BY ME!” A sudden roar rang as Sunstreaker lurched forward at the three with the energy-blade gleaming in his fist, Red Alert and Ironhide rushing past Prowl and Bluestreak taking a post with his sniper poised next to Prowl. Skyeraider, since she had yet to move past him, he assumed the Osprey was still statuesque. He could hardly care with reality moving in slow motion. The seeker’s had repelled Sunstreaker with ease, Skywarp was straddling Ironhide’s back, and Thundercracker holding an on-the-verge-of-glitching Red Alert with an arm cannon pointed to his helm. The gaze the blue and white seeker gave Bluestreak silently told the gunner to lower the gun, and Bluestreak complied hesitantly.  
“Better! Now, Prowlie, dear,” Starscream sneered, striding up to Prowl, taking one quick look at the smaller Datsun, before pushing Bluestreak to the ground. A snarl ripped from Sunstreaker, who was now being held down by Thundercracker’s foot and the cannon barrels to Ironhide and Red Alert’s heads. “I’ll need you to come with us. Barricade has a little something you might want back…” A smile touched his words. Prowl hesitated, locking his optics with the Air Commander’s ruby ones. “Jazz…” his words were but a whisper.
Starscream smiled, reaching up to touch the tactician’s cheek, stroking it gently. “Want to see him again?” The voice taunted his guilt. He could only dumbly nod.
Starscream grinned audio to audio, dropping his hand and turning to signal Thundercracker and Skywarp to release their captives. The two seekers then transformed and took to the skies before Sunstreaker or the others could recover and shoot.
Starscream backed up to transform.
“If you want to see your beloved comrades again, Autobots, then you will follow us and leave your weapons here.” He eyed the volatile yellow frontliner who looked like he wanted to maul the Decepticon. “ALL of them- lest you want something terrible to happen to your poor friends. They’re already in so much pain; don’t cause them more because you’re too foolish to follow simple instructions.”
With that, the red, white, and blue flier took off, his turbines screeching eastbound.
Red Alert dusted himself off from being pushed to the ground, and looked to Skyeraider, “You knew they were coming didn’t you?!” He practically shrieked. The teal femme tilted her head lethargically to him, wrinkling her olfactory sensors, “Maybe a little more than alot.” Her wings lifted a bit, “Vibrations are easier to pick up on when ya got wings for flyin’.”
Red Alert put a hand to his forehelm, “A little warning next time would be nice…”
“Might not be a next time, Red, not unless we can catch up to them! Let’s roll!” Ironhide shouted, dropping his rifle before transforming and speeding after the seekers disappearing into the distance. Skyeraider abandoned her pistols as she shifted into jet-mode. Before much else could go through Prowl’s processor, Sunstreaker and Red Alert drove past him at top speeds; leaving their artillery behind. Bluestreak abandoned his sniper and took a few steps in front of him before looking back at his brother.
“Prowl?”
Frightened optics looked at the young gunner. Doorwings quivered agitatedly, “What if they’re already gone?”
Bluestreak turned to give the older Datsun a sympathetically sad smile as he took the trembling white hand into his own.
“Then we’ll see it for ourselves…” It did nothing to help the black and white’s tattered nerves.
The grey and red Datsun gave a brief tug on his arm leading the other a few steps before they both transformed hastily and sped after their friends into the dark horizon.
~
Even at night, the early July heat was blistering. The only comfort was the cool wind rushing past then as they chased after their guides, who were lit only by the short bursts of light courtesy of heat lightning that erupted in the not-so-far distance. Prowl’s spark pulsed a million miles a minute as the dark citadel that was the current Decepticon base appeared before them, towering like a massive wave prior to it falling into a crash. As they stopped and transformed like the seekers, an unusually cold breeze crept through their frames like death approaching.
It was the point of no return.
The Coneheaded seekers were awaiting them by the open door, sneers tattooed on their face-plates. Starscream’s trine landed behind the six Autobots, “After you, my friends, your beloveds await you…” He gestured towards the black opening in the purple fortress. Prowl turned back towards the dark base, he hardly thought of anything more than his bonded waiting for him and quickly strode towards into the maw of his nightmares.
He didn’t look back to see if the others were following him, but the sound of footsteps behind him confirmed they were falling in step with him. The Coneheads were escorting them further into the abyss while the other three seekers trailed them; making sure there was no escape, no doubt.
The next step being the one and only thought they could possibly think of to keep their thoughts off the dry Energon that coated the walls; each praying that it didn’t belong to their dearly loved. Prowl dropped his gaze to the floor to keep himself from overheating from anxiety. He could practically hear his spark-pulse erupting inside his chest. ‘Calm down, he’s here…he’s fine! I-I would have felt it if-’
Pink.
The dark length of violet floor he was staring at suddenly interrupted itself with a drop of rosy fluid.
And another larger one.
And a small puddle of it.
He stopped so suddenly Ironhide bumped into his doorwings. A second jostle told him Bluestreak hadn’t been paying much attention either.
No…
Crimson pierced the blackness, accompanied by fallen blood raindrops on the floor still dripping from a broken frame. The three fliers in front of them had moved out of the way.

“Hello, my love…” Barricade cooed, pulling Jazz’s listless form closer to him.
Prowl stared at Barricade with so much hatred, he wouldn’t have been very surprised it the mech simply combusted where he stood.
“You’re shaking,” The first wave of Barricade’s poison words. Prowl braced himself, trying not to listen for fear of losing himself when he could not.
“Are you scared, dear one? I will not harm you.” Behind him, Red Alert and Ironhide shifted closer to him, whether it was for his sake or Jazz’s, he was not sure, he could not care; his optics were trained on his bonded and the psychopath holding him. It was as he feared; Jazz’s injuries were severe and deep- more than likely, the only thing holding the Porsche up was the cruel Decepticon that held him captive.
Barricade must have realized he no longer held Prowl’s attention, and decided he’d get it back; creatively. Slipping his claws into the gaping wound on his prisoner’s middle, he grabbed a mass of bloody wires ad roughly pulled them, eliciting a mix of a gasp and a whimper from the smaller saboteur. Prowl flinched immediately and took a step forward, wanting the get his bonded away from this monster, but not daring the come closer to him for fear Barricade would inflict more pain. Instead, the Saleen simply removed his claws, seeing how he regained what he wanted, and, with a smile, he began to lick the clean of the Energon that covered them.
“Starscream,” the black mech cooed softly, tilting his helm in the seeker’s direction, “Did you enjoy your time playing with the red twin?” Sunstreaker gave a feral snarl behind him as Starscream looked at him with sadistic pleasure.
“Oh yes, He’s such a little pleasure- especially when he’s trying to be fearless. Though I personally have to admit I think he’s cuter when he lets his fear show.” The Air Commander looked at the raging yellow twin with a dreamy grin, “He’s adorable when he screams for you, Sunny…”
The floodgates burst, and Sunstreaker launched himself at the seeker behind him. A yellow fist attempted to connect to the grey faceplates, but ultimately failed as purple and white hands grabbed the warrior and threw him to the ground. Thrust, Dirge, and Ramjet came from behind Prowl and launched themselves at Bluestreak, Skyeraider, and Ironhide while Starscream slammed Red Alert into the nearby wall. Sunstreaker writhed under the heavy grip of the two seekers pinning him to the floor, cursing in both Cybertronian and English.
“You son of a slagging whore! I’m going to rip you to pieces until there’s nothing left!” Sunstreaker saw fit to screech at the highest levels his vocalize allowed- Prowl was sure Sideswipe, if conscious, heard it. Red Alert’s horns sparked and glowed dangerously as he began another glitch-attack, most likely from the combination of Sunstreaker’s shrieking and the pressure Starscream was putting on him to force the little Lamborghini into the wall.
Prowl, now the only Autobot left standing, turned back to Barricade in hopes of negotiating his comrades release; and saw that the yellow twin’s screaming had done more.
Prowl’s spark skipped at the sight of Jazz moving, if only weakly. He heard Bluestreak crying out Jazz’s name, but was too engrossed with silently begging his bonded to look at him to check on the youngest Datsun. Barricade smiled and began petting the chest armor under his hand gently. Prowl’s wish was finally granted as Jazz painfully looked up, though his spark took another agonizing stab as he saw the state of his bonded’s once beautiful face. Visor cracked and barely lit; with tears both dry and wet streaking down his face.
Air cycle caught in his throat, “Jazz!”
Barricade finished preening his claws, cocking his head to the side. “Oh dear, I’m sorry, but sweet, little Jazz is a bit out of it right now…” The Decepticon talked like a mother who had been asked where his sparkling was.
Prowl snorted angrily, “No thanks to you, right?” Barricade’s face contorted into a sincerely hurt expression.
The Saleen took the distance between them away in less than a few seconds, dragging a barely conscious Jazz with him. A hand coated with saliva and missed energon settled on Prowl’s cheek. Barricade’s four ruby optics slanted in pure upset.
“Beloved, why? What about him captures your spark? Why must you care for him?” The black mech sounded like a youngling who hurt himself and was wailing to his creator.
Prowl looked at his former lover square in the optics.
“I love him.” The words were strong and set.
As soon as the words left his vocalizer, he feared Barricade might take it wrong and hurt Jazz as a consequence. But the black Saleen’s look of hurt dropped, and for a moment, he looked thoughtful, before he shook his head and looked around dazed as if he knew no more of what was happening. Prowl knew better than anyone else that Barricade’s personality was as unstable as his mind. From the smile that now played upon the mech’s lip components, Barricade had completely repressed the last few moments. Barricade only ever heard what he wanted to hear. The black Decepticon began to look around with child-like wonder before his sight dropped to Red Alert. Barricade shifted himself to face the sandwiched mech.  He leaned himself over to come nearly face-to-face with the glitching Lamborghini, nuzzling his nose to Red’s cheek. “I know you!” He cried, “You belong to the fire truck!”
“Barricade.” Starscream droned, “How about we let them see how well we took care of their loved ones?” AKA- a chance for Starscream to gloat about how his torture methods were more effective than Megatron’s.
Barricade just cocked his head again. “Why?”
“All the more fun to rip them apart, Barricade.” A new voice caught everyone’s attention. Prowl turned to see two Decepticons emerge from the dark hall; that green tank and the white femme that the Autobots knew as Sonicstriker. He heard Skye hiss angrily, “Backfire…”  
Barricade straightened and nodded. Moving back over to Prowl, he grabbed the Datsun and dragged him off; past the two new arrivals who were moving to haul the five other Autobots to different place in the base.
Prowl attempted to straighten up, “Barricade! The others! You better not hurt them!” He watched as Barricade’s optics slithered to look at him. A nostalgic chill ran down his spinal system, it reminded him of his days in Barricade’s captivity.
“You should be more worried about him…” he nodded to the limp form in his other claws, “…Another few hours and his spark shall be no more!”
Prowl could only look back to the others who were being dragged farther into the dark purgatorial abyss of the Decepticon base and pray for their safety; it was already too late for himself…
~
If Barricade still remembered where Prowl’s sensitive areas were- he didn’t show it very well. Prowl landed hard on his roof and wings, ultimately smashing the glass of his lights and causing a blunt shock up his spinal system. A strangled mix of a grunt and a moan escaped his lips. Prowl managed to recover just as Jazz was thrown in behind him. The Datsun managed to turn around and catch the wounded Porsche, in doing so, having a large splatter of rosy blood splash onto him; the tactician hardly noticed. Jazz was groaning in pain, now that he was conscious and free of Barricade- who had silently closed the door, Prowl knew the Saleen never had a taste for any loud noise other than a scream. The black and white thought quickly and moved both of them to the back of the room to the wall, setting Jazz back against it so he wasn’t slouched over and causing aggravation to his wounds, and finally, cupping his bondmate’s precious face in his white hands; mapping the features he had longed to see for well over a week now. A week it may have been, but it had felt like an eternity. Prowl realized Jazz’s visor was dark- meaning it was either off or dead, and from the cracks and chips, he guessed it was the latter.
“Pr-Prowl…?” a weak, whispered plea snapped him out of his analysis. The light brush of digits shakily and tentatively touching his forearm and Jazz’s broken, sob-stained voice brought tears to his optics, and he could not stop himself from softly pulling his bonded into a loving embrace. Of course, the Datsun was careful to avoid hurting him as he buried his face into Jazz’s shoulder. Prowl’s vocalizer could not form any other words except, “Thank Primus…”
He felt shaking arms make an effort to return the hug, the body relaxing in his bondmate’s arms.
They stayed like that for a moment, letting their withering bond speak for them now that they were finally had a connection. They sent their love, reassurance, guilt, comfort, and shushed apologies to one another as Jazz’s hands explored the one holding him, obviously trying to validate whether or not this was another of Barricade’s tricks. As the black hands finally migrated and rested on the Datsun’s face, a sudden look of horror stole across his face
“N-no! You-you can’t be h-here! That’s what he wants!”
Prowl winced, “…Jazz…”
The Porsche was frantically struggling in Prowl’s arms so much that he was pressing against his own wounds. Blood continued to pour onto the other’s body, the same as words of nonsense poured out of Jazz’s mouth. Prowl held onto him as tightly as he dared, but it did no good.
“No! No, no, no! C-can’t let him! Won’t let him hurt you!” Those words pierced his spark as Prowl realized that despite every serious injury that graced Jazz’s lithe form, his bonded was still desperately attempting to defend him from his ex-bondmate. Prowl figured in his delirium, Jazz was probably unable to process logic, trying to think of something simple for his bondmate to understand so that the little Porsche  would stop wriggling and hurting himself.
“Jazz, calm down! Barricade isn’t here, don’t you see?!” Bingo. Jazz immediately ceased, but somehow began trembling. Prowl leaned forward to place his forehelm against Jazz’s, quietly hushing his tremors. Pulling backwards to rest his lover against himself and tucking the black helm under his own. He began to massage Jazz’s back tenderly, lulling the saboteur into a sleepy peace against him. Prowl shuttered his optics, letting out a shaky sigh.
‘What has Barricade done to you?’ No, now was not the time to think about what had happened, he needed to tend to Jazz in the present. Reaching into subspace, he withdrew a cube of Energon. For a moment, Prowl wondered why Barricade hadn’t stripped them of the cubes, but he put it aside. Pushing his bonded back a little bit, but not enough for Jazz’s arms to be forced to break their hold on him, he pressed the edge of the container to the Porsche’s lips. “Drink this, Jazz.” He didn’t raise his voice above a whisper.
The black and white mech reared back away from the pink sustenance like it was poison.
Jazz simply shook his head; looking away from it. Prowl’s sorrow turned to confusion; surely by now, his bondmate would be starving, right? His readings told him Jazz’s energy levels were critical, so why did he refuse to drink?
“You have to! You will die if you don’t!”
Jazz simply shook his head again, “can’t…” before the Datsun could ask why, he mentally slapped himself. The large gash on the Porsche’s middle coupled with the hole in his throat made it impossible to ingest anything. Prowl thought for a moment before he shoved the cube into Jazz’s hands, well, hand. One, Prowl had found with horror, had been blown off. Gently, he coaxed his lover to turn around and lay against him. Jazz turned his head to give the tactician a questioning glare, but was met with a peck on the cheek. “Trust me…” A white hand reached up to the saboteur’s neck and massaged it lovingly. The other hand stroked the abused midsection plating, drifting closer to the actual wound. Jazz let out a distressed whimper, but Prowl shushed him quickly, nuzzling the side of his face. “This will hurt,” he whispered into his audio, “I’m so sorry.” Jazz barely had time to process this before a sharp pain jolted down his spinal structure. Prowl’s hands pressed hard inside the gashes, hand over the missing throat paneling and arm embedded in the long slash.
Jazz attempted to struggle, but the grip was like a vice, “S-stop! Please!” he begged, making his lover’s spark ache. Prowl placed chaste kisses on the dying mech’s tearstained cheek, trying to comfort the distraught Porsche. He knew that Jazz could take no more pain, but he needed to do so to ensure Jazz would survive at least the next few hours. Then a thought struck him; his bondmate had been through so much agony and, no doubt, humiliation. His optics drifted to the main fuel line that jumped out at him in between the shoulder and neck plating, he slipped his fingers into the opening. One quick move- that’s all it would take, then his beloved would suffer no more.
But a spark-wrenching sob escaped Jazz and a fresh wave of tears leaked from the mutilated optics beneath the broken visor, “P-Prowler, please, n-no more!”
Prowl winced, the once laugh-filled, sweetly spoken nickname his mate called him now drenched in pain and confusion struck his in his very core; his digits slipped away from the line and began to stroke the Porsche’s neck cables that the hole exposed. Sparkache and guilt wracked Prowl’s every thought, but he knew what he had to do to ensure Jazz’s wellbeing.
“Drink, Jazz,” he nuzzled his bonded’s audio lovingly, “you must trust me. Drink it.”
It took the mech in his arms a few moments to cease his whimpers and struggles to clearly process what his mate was trying to do. Hesitantly at first, Jazz raised the substance halfway and Prowl gave him a small nuzzle of encouragement; and Jazz finally swallowed it down. Prowl winced as he felt the splash of liquid on his hand as he clogged the whole in Jazz’s intake and silently sighed, knowing he had just given his beloved a few more hours to live. As soon as the last few drops of Energon dripped from his hand, he gently removed it and gently began stroking the very plating he had agitated; though he didn’t remove the other limb he had embedded into his lover’s midsection- knowing it would take a little while for the sustenance to reach his tanks and digest it the best he could at the moment. Prowl cringed as he realized the next step was bleeding it out in horrible agony. Jazz now lay limp in his arms, spent and exhausted from his thrashing, but none the less, safe. ‘For now’ the tactician thought bitterly, it would only be a matter of time until Barricade saw to it that the Porsche would be once again writhing in pure anguish. Taking in a cycle of cold air, he decided he would work on a plan to get them all out, until then- he could at least take solace in the fact he had his beloved saboteur, alive, in his arms once more.
Reaching a bloody, Energon-soaked hand, though he knew Jazz hardly cared at the moment, he began to softly pet the helm- hoping to soothe the processor-ache he knew was there. “Recharge, love, you need it.”
The Porsche rolled his head a bit, trying to get a good look at his bonded. Prowl helped him, tilting his face towards him before descending to press his lips softly against the other black and white’s. A quiver ripped down his spine and into his aching doors, but it was, as Prowl could tell, a good pain. Reluctantly, he parted their lips and gave his dazed lover a reassuring smile, “I’ll watch over you, rest, please…”
Jazz stared at him for a few seconds before he ducked his helm under Prowl’s and snuggled back into the Datsun’s warmth; apparently forgetting about the arm in his middle. Prowl resumed petting his saboteur until he heard a low purr from Jazz’s weakened systems, ensuring his beloved was deep in a much needed recharge.
Emitting a sigh, he laid his cheek on top of Jazz’s helm and closed his own optics; waiting for the burn of half-digested Energon to singe his arm as it struggled to disperse into his systems. But for now he needed to rest his frayed nerves and think.
Unconsciously, though, a pink tear rolled down his cheek and dropped to stain the ebony helm.
“I’m so sorry…” a whisper in the dead silence.
He waited in the dark for a sign he was not forsaken.
But nothing came.