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When Jazz was finally able to tell Punch what Sentinel had done to him, the older mech was furious.
“I’m never going to let that happen again,” Punch said firmly. Jazz shrugged wearily.
“Ain’t much that coulda been done to stop it. And no guarantee ya can in the future,” he said. He’d seen too much to believe that one mech could always protect another, even if they did try with everything they had.
“Well, perhaps not,” Punch said. He’d seen too much too. Then he grinned.
“But I can make sure it never sticks. You’ll see.”
Jazz wasn’t sure exactly what his creator meant by that, but he let it go.
In hindsight, he probably shouldn’t have.
“What are you doing here?” Jazz hissed as Counterpunch blinked at him from a vent. “I’m busy!”
“Too busy for your dear old creator?” Counterpunch shook his head. “I’m telling Punch you said that.”
“Oh, shuddup,” Jazz muttered. “Is there a reason you’re interrupting when I’m tryna stake out a joint?” Counterpunch looked at him with a very suspicious solemnness.
“Well, I was going to help, but I’m thinking I’ll just get yelled at again,” he said. Jazz signed.
“Ok, fine, I’m sorry. It’s good ta see you. I’d prefer ta see you when I’m not tryna stake out my way inta a location I can get the latest logistical data for the Cons, though,” Jazz said. Counterpunch just stared at him for a moment longer, then held out a data chip.
“What’s this?” Jazz asked suspiciously as he took it.
“The data you’re after,” Counterpunch said. Jazz glared.
“Ya coulda led with that,” he said.
“Where’s the fun in that?” Counterpunch answered. “Now, I need a port.”
“Why?” Jazz demanded.
“To make sure you’re free of slave coding, of course,” Counterpunch answered like it was obvious, rolling his optics. “Punch told me he’d told you we were going to check up on you.”
“Yeah, but not like this!” Jazz hissed. Counterpunch rolled his optics again and held out a data cable. Jazz eyed it warily.
“You’re the better hacker anyway, if this is a trap,” Counterpunch said reasonable. Jazz groaned and plugged in.
“What are you doing here?” Jazz hissed as Punch opened a cell door.
“Getting you out, of course,” Punch answered. “Soundwave’s arriving in ten klicks. You’re cutting it rather fine here.”
“A'ight, thank you, but why are you here?” Jazz asked again.
“Because I didn’t have enough time to set this one up as clean as I'd like, so this way I’m not burning my cover,” Punch said. “You coming, or do I have to bribe you with manganese like you’re five?”
“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Jazz said, getting to his pedes with a wince. Punch threw an arm around him and started helping him walk.
“That Prime still treating you well?” Punch asked.
“Yes creator,” Jazz said in a longsuffering tone.
“Don’t take that tone with me, brat,” Punch grinned. “Alright, your ride’s here. But first, port please.” Jazz stared at him.
“I’m literally running anti-interrogation code right now, and ya wanna go digging in it?” he asked.
“I have to make sure you’re still fine,” Punch said in a reasonable tone. Jazz groaned.
“This gonna be an ‘every time I see you’ thing?” he asked.
“Yes,” Punch said without a bite of remorse. Jazz groaned again and handed his arm over.
“What are you doing here?” Jazz hissed as Punch let himself silently into the Medbay. “If Ratch catches you, he’s gonna ask all sorta questions!”
“So little faith in your old creator,” Punch said quietly. Jazz leaned back into his berth and threw an arm over his visor. It meant he almost missed (but didn’t) his creator coming closer and gently enveloping him in a hug.
“Worry about you, bit,” Punch murmured. Jazz untangled himself to hug back.
“Ah, I’m alright. Takes more than that idiot to keep me down,” he assured Punch. “An Ratch is the best in everything but berthside manner.” Punch gave a snort of amusement at that, so Jazz counted it as success.
“So word on the street is you got yourself a little protégé,” Punch said softly as he let Jazz go and perched himself in the berthside chair.
“Two a’ them, in fact,” Jazz corrected. “But Raj is the one everyone’s focused on. Takin’ on a naturalist who knows way too much about plants ain’t as scandalous as the noble, even if they are best friends.” Punch just kept looking at Jazz. Jazz was tempted to just keep looking at Punch, but they were on a bit of a deadline, and he knew why Punch was worried.
“He really is a good mech,” Jazz said softly into the silence. “A bit clueless half the time about he way things actually work, but he’s tryin. Tryin to be more than what they let him be in that place. And he has already saved my life.” Punch smiled a bit wistfully.
“Forgive your old creator for worrying,” he said. Jazz held out his wrist.
“Ain’t never anything to forgive,” he said.
“What are you doing here?” Jazz hissed as quietly as he could, to not wake Prowl or Optimus.
“Checking on you,” Punch answered as quietly as Jazz had. “Heard this one was nasty.”
“Yeah,” Jazz said simply. “Yeah, it was. But Raj and Hound got me out and got me home, and Prowler and Ratch and OP are makin’ sure I get put back together. And makin’ sure nothing else falls apart while I’m out, too. I’ll be alright.”
He held out his arm, as had become standard, but Punch just took it and intertwined their digits for a moment then put it back on Jazz’s chestplates.
“No more need, bittie,” Punch murmured. “There’s finally some others I can trust with my little Jazzy.”
Punch looked at him for a long moment, then smiled something soft and proud and bittersweet.
“I’m glad I’m not your only family any more,” he said softly. “When this war’s over, I expect them to all turn up for family dinners, ya hear?” Jazz chuckled softly enough to not wake the others.
“Alright, deal,” he said. “But I get first dibs on the manganese."