“ Love, ah can’t do it,” a trembling silver frame pressed against a slightly taller black and white frame, “ Ah carried ‘im for almos’ a vorn. He’s OUR’S, and Ah hate tha’ Ah can’t tell anyone tha’ Ah belong ‘ta you when someone shows they wan’ me.” White arms circled around the small frame, trying to offer comfort, but it was futile. What they were planning to do, it would hurt their family more than anyone else.
They just couldn’t stand it. The thought of it made them want to tear anyone who suggested it apart.
But they had to, it would make things better. Better for him. Regardless of whatever pain it would cause them, it would be worth it.
“ Sweetspark, I know it hurts, but we have to do it,” the black and white mech murmured, tightening his arms around his trembling sparkmate, “ Jazz, you need to think about HIM, he isn’t safe here.” Jazz only shuddered, keens now escaping his lips, and his visor snapped up, exposing the optics he hid from the rest of the world, except from those he trusts.
“ Prowl, ah know he has a higher chance of surviving out there, especially with his new pretender coding, but a part of me is saying he will be in jus’ as much danger out there. Wha’ if tha’ war spreads?” Prowl froze, shock flowing throughout his entire systems.
Suddenly his Advanced Tactical & Battle Computer flared to life, clawing at his memory banks, taking data from it. Creating a clear possibility of what could happen if the war spread to other planets. It slowed, showing him the horrifying conclusion. Jazz stared at him with a questioning look in his bright sapphire optics. Before he could answer, something interrupted them.
Four yelps came from the room next to theirs, and not even a few klicks later, a cry followed. Fast as lightning, they shot up to their pedes, Jazz pulling out his gun, visor slipping down, while Prowl pulled out his energon daggers. They slipped into the room, then dropped their weapons to their side.
There in the room, were two younglings and two mechs. One of them, a golden mech, was holding a crying black, blue, and silver sparkling, attempting to calm the little one down. The other two younglings and mech were staring with uncertainty gleaming in their eyes. The young cybertronians focus was on the crying sparkling and the golden mech.
Prowl stared at them, before tugging at the Creator-Creation bond, alerting all four cybertronians about the two mechs presence.
A black and white femme’s optics snapped towards their direction, her optics glittering with joy. She suddenly propelled forward, launching herself in the air, arms wrapping around his neck.
“Sire, Carrier,” she squealed quietly, joy noticeable, as Prowl wrapped his arms around her as soon as she came within reach. While he swung her around, making her giggle in happiness, Jazz approached the three other mech. Tapping gently on the golden mechs shoulder, he made a clear gesture, one that meant he would try to calm the little one.
The golden mechling nodded, than gently placed the flailing, crying sparkling into the silver mech’s arm, love glowing in his turquoise optics, and a small smile on his face.
Slowly raising the crying sparkling to his chest, he started to gently rock him to sleep, while he hummed a old lullaby Prowl’s brother had composed with his future sparkmate before the war had started.
The sparkling suddenly stopped, staring up at him, optics wide with wonder, before making a happy gurgling sound, raising his arms.
Suddenly he did something that he shouldn’t have been able to do until he was eight orns old.
“C-C-C-Carrier!” He gurgled, excitement glittering in his eyes. The golden mechling, a silver mech that looked exactly like the golden mechling, a black youngling, and the black and white youngling stared at the sparkling in Jazz’s arm with shock, while he and Prowl looked at him with pride.
“Yar so smart, aren’t ya,” Jazz cooed, elation leaking into his voice, fingers ghosting over his belly, tickling him, “ Aren’t ya, Janus?” Janus just giggled, lifting his arms up, clutching Jazz’s smooth cheeks. Prowl put the youngling down, and quietly strolled over. Wrapping one of his arms around his mate’s waist and laying his helm on his shoulder, he lifted one hand, and gently touched one of Janus’ doorwings, a soft, serene smile on his lips, Prowl’s own doorwings relaxing.
As Jazz leaned into his touch, Janus let out a quiet yawn, his face scrunching up, optics shuddering shut, as one by one, his systems turned off, allowing him to return to recharge.
As Janus slipped into recharge, Jazz and Prowl looked on with adoration gleaming in their optics.
“Carrier, I thought he wasn’t supposed to say anything until he was eight orns old?” The two adults gaze switched from their little sparkling to their third youngest youngling. The black and yellow sparkling stared at the sleeping sparkling, curiosity gleaming in his optics.
“ Well Abejorro, you, your split-spark twin sister, and your older spilt-spark brothers could speak at three stellar cycles, it really isn’t a surprise he can now talk at this age, it was bound to happen sooner or later,” Prowl explained a hint of laughter and amusement in his voice.
“ But y'all inherited Prowl’s intelligence,” Jazz added mirthfully, a amused smile on his face, “ Ah swear, y’all got it from ‘im. Keeps me on mah pedes.” The small family just laughed, even the little one smiled in his recharge.
“ Sire, Carrier, can… can I ask you a question,” the black and white femaling asked, hesitance in her optics.
Snapping their attention to their only daughter, worry quickly surrounding their emotional field.
“Corridor, are you alright? You’re not being bullied, are you?” Prowl asked worriedly, his processor coming up with different scenarios. He didn’t like any one bit.
She stared at him with surprise, then her optics twinkled with amusement, before sadness entered her optics.
Before she could ask, her silver brother beat her to it. It reminded them of the grief that was going to happen.
“ Is it true that you gave Janus pretender programing? That you’re going to launch him, another sparkling, and two adult cybertronians into the unknown galaxies,” Aldurub Min Aljanib questioned, fear gleaming in his optics. Prowl and Jazz knew why.
No one among the Autobots know that Prowl and Jazz were sparkmates, the only ones who know are the command chain, or at least most of it. Very few from outside knew.
When both sets of split-spark twins were born, no one knew who the sire was. There were rumors, but that was all they were. Rumors.
No one knew Prowl was the sire or that they had any form of a relationship other than being friends. It hurt. The rumors about Abejorro’s and Corridor’s were still going around, and it was difficult for Prowl to spend time with them as who he was to them. Jazz’s sparkmate; Conjunx Endura, and their sire.
What made it worse, was that there were some Autobots who didn’t like Jazz, they in fact loathed him. When he gave birth to Abejorro and Corridor, they had accused Jazz of being a whore. Prowl had been ready to slaughter the mechas who dared call his mate a whore when he heard. Thankfully, Optimus ended it with the help of certain “friends”
Jazz’s visor snapped open, pain and shock in his optics. His deep voice filled the air.
“Where did you hear that?” All the younglings stared at their carrier, guilt leaking into their EM field, helms tilted in shame. It was Aldurub Min Aljanib split-spark golden twin, Vuelo Del Sol Eterno, who admitted it.
“We had snuck Abejorro and Corridor away from their younglingsitter and decided to explore. Little bit later we saw you and the high command in a meeting, an-and we thought we should eavesdrop, to see if they could become part of Special Operations when they’re older. The-then we heard the plans.” he admitted, shame in his voice. Aldurub Min Aljanib , Abejorro, and Corridor turned away, couldn’t bear it, seeing the agony on their creators faces.
Bewildered, Prowl and Jazz only stared at their creations, not knowing what to do. All the occupants in the room stayed still, waiting for someone to demolish the silence.
“ Is it true, carrier?” The mechs swiftly turned their helms to the black and white femme, three azure optics begging it to not be true, two others holding regret and sorrow.
“ Sweetspark’s,” Jazz whispered camly, sadness flowing in EM field, “I need you to listen to me very carefully. What I tell you, ya have ta try to understan’, it will affect everything.” Hesitantly, they nodded. Their brother was possibly going to live most of his life in mysterious, unexplored galaxies.
Taking a deep breath, his voice weaved the story, cries of sparkbreak and resentment singing in the night at the end of the tale. The stars just shimmered coldly.