Chapter Text
He was floating.
That had been the first sign that Jazz's dream had veered off course and into the furthest depths of the unknown.
Gone was the dream where Cybertron had collapsed in on itself with everyone and everything tumbling down, down, down into its core like something out of a horror film. As he reached for something, anything, to hold onto in the chaos of screeching metal and mecha, something new began to take shape.
Hundreds of iridescent lights spun around him and spilled their colors across his hands and frame, keeping him from falling through the cracks of his home.
Surrounded by that steady glow, his black and white plating became a palette for every color imaginable.
Any self-preserving grounder would've taken this as an invitation to panic in full by now, if they hadn't done so already.
After all, most didn't appreciate the tank-dropping rush of weightlessness when in free fall, or the knowledge that their treads were no longer on tarmac.
Jazz, for his part, spun freely, never once wondering which way was up or down or what had once been ceiling or floor.
It was stunning, breathtaking, but Jazz couldn't for the life of him remember when or where he'd seen something like this before, if ever. Had he?
He looked up, or to wherever had felt like up to him, and a glint of something very sharp and red appeared in the edges of his optical feed. His vents picked up loud and fast in a way he had been entirely been caught off guard for.
Before Jazz could even begin to wonder what in the ever-loving Gods that had been, his processor decided enough was enough and he was unceremoniously dropped back into the real world in a heap of bent limbs and twisted sheets.
A real world that was alive and well late into the first few hours of the light cycle with its wailing sirens and rumbling monorails reaching even the furthest enclaves of the city. Where the strong, steady pulse of Iacon's sparkbeat was a promise to visitors and residents alike if, and only if, they promised to accept the hidden pathways and secrets that came with it.
One piece of tech clicked as the seconds passed before it began playing its smooth notes and simple guitar riff like clockwork.
Bundling further into the pitch darkness of his blankets, Jazz tried his best to ignore the second round of shrieking that was coming from his alarm.
If he could have just a few more minutes to stay in this dream, just a few more, Jazz would be a happy bot.
He loved his teaching gigs, really he did, but waking up before the rest of Cybertron to head into work?
Not his favorite thing on this side of the planet. Nu-uh. Nah.
But Jazz had answered the call to help, and help he would… just as soon as his optics got adjusted to the light again.
As his visor hummed to life, Jazz's sleepy processor asked him if he had enough time to step into the washrack before heading out. He probably could get in to ease some of lingering aches, see if his polish needed touching up before he spent the day sliding on the floor with his kiddos. And he'd be one of the first to use some of that hot cleanser…mm.
"Yeah, yeah, alright, Jazzy's up," he murmured, accent thick with sleep.
Groaning, the speedster kicked away at his warm, soft cocoon to be enveloped by an easy melody. His monochrome plating responded in kind, clamping down shut in an attempt to keep any lingering heat away from the draft that had managed to sneak its way into his apartment.
With a swift smack to the off button, the blooming notes of the electric guitar faded into the background like the last traces of the dream he'd had.
A blue arc shifted onto the ceiling as he settled onto his backplate and began to tap out the notes on his plating absentmindedly. Slowly, the grogginess pulled away like the tide and became somewhat more manageable as his systems came online.
After all, the Rescue Bots' theme song had no business being this good this early in the light cycle.
Jazz was sure that if his little neighbor Gauge had been up at this hour, she would have started screaming for her trio of creators to dance and watch with her the moment the holoscreen shifted to it's telltale intro.
You wouldn't find Jazz complaining about being added to their little watch party on the weekends, though, no siree.
It was sweet as sugar, and the bitty had inherited an enthusiasm for rocking out that he could appreciate. Of course, the song had turned into his alarm and ringtone after hearing it play a number of times to the joy, disdain, and amusement of her family.
It had definitely been a step up from the high pitched beeping whoever had programmed it with years ago, let him tell you that much. And so, the menace of his alarm kept its spot on the cluttered nightstand. For now.
Strewn around it's blocky base was a constellation of a system only Jazz knew: an half full cube of energon, some datapens, a thick slice of agate, a glossy bottle of oil, unused pain patches, his personal datapad plastered in stickers, a leftover wristband from a concert he'd proudly sang his vocalizer to distortion to, and a couple of other misce—wait, where'd his datapad go?
Jazz had fallen into recharge scribbling something in it, yeah, but he could have sworn he'd left it close by.
Magnetic, calloused digits felt around the sides and under the berth before pulling the datapad free from where it'd slipped between his pillows and the metal headboard sometime when he'd been traveling to and from his desk in the den.
It was honestly something he was looking forward to playing with on his lunch break if he'd remembered to save the file beforehand.
Jazz chewed on his bottom lip as he blearily typed in the passkey before venting in relief as soon as his scrawled handwriting appeared on the bright screen. Oh yeah! Thank Primus, his luck hadn't run out on him just yet.
Buzzing energy shifted and filled the now quiet room as he opened his side compartment and 'spaced that for a later time.
Jazz's frame protested immediately at his decision to get up from the berth.
The familiar aches, throbbing deeply through his protoform and radiating around his knees, only worsened as he stood, let alone took a step. He hissed in discomfort, trudging on stiff actuators towards the washrack before he leant much more heavily on the doorframe.
Some days it just got so cold in Iacon, he couldn't stand it sometimes. Aw well, at least he'd pulled out the warmer bedding early. Ori would have him by his collar fairing if news came that his Jazzy was creaking already and had gotten taken out early by a little change in barometric pressure. Which he wouldn't.
What was one more secret, anyway?
Jazz gazed longingly at his comfy, cozy berth one more time before ducking inside, knowing the cycle would start all over again if he didn't get a move on.
Just Four Forty-Five Iaconian Standard Time, really now?
Too damn early.
Shadows stretched out over dented window cards and packed shelves lined with trinkets as the Polyhexian headed towards the kitchen.
His hand gently trailed over the painted glyphs of his favorite of the shiny window cards, a romantic and tragic musical that he knew every single glyph to, before he found the back of his silicone couch and used it to steady himself instead.
He was much more prepared when the dark kitchen filled with light. He didn't have much time left in his chronometer, so a cup of warm energon, a protein shake, and hand foods just made sense to him today.
Jazz grabbed his blender and travel cube from their precarious drying spots on the dish rack, humming a tune as he placed them on the counter top. Littered in scratches from the constant moves and trips, he cherished them all the more so and wouldn't dare to replace them until they were deemed unfixable.
Determinedly, he stacked a half finished carton of energon and a couple of homemade sauces in his arms before bumping the refrigerator door closed with his good hip. Everything clinked softly as he plopped the armful in front of himself with practiced motions.
He found out he had a nearly full box of shiny lithium batteries while digging around his cupboard for an iron-rich protein container and his favorite mug. Now there was an idea.
Once he checked for any leaks or corrosion, he dumped a handful of batteries into the now plugged in blender and locked it in place. He just really hoped that the soundproofing that came with the place kept doing its thing and saved his downstairs neighbor, and himself, the processor ache.
Jazz looked over the rim of his steaming mug, quietly watching as starlight climbed through his kitchen window. He was slowly perking up some after working through his second cup of a mellow energon blend Beachcomber had brought over from home on his last trip to the city.
Adding in the acoustics coming from the avibots roosting outside and yeah, okay, it was nice to be one of the first to catch the blue hour as it pulled away at a curtain of wispy purple clouds.
Everything came alive at dawn, be it topside or down below, huh?
Jazz scrolled through his socials listlessly, his charger a nest of cables under the kitchen table that doubled as his workspace. There wasn't a ton of room for him, not with some of the speakers he'd been in the middle of dismantling sprawled out like they were on an operating table, but it wasn't like he needed much anyways.
After all, it was just him.
A memory filtered through his processor as another sip of rich energon hit his tongue. If he were in a lyrical mood, he'd say it tasted like starlight might as it filtered into the cave network Polyhex was tucked into, warming him from the inside out.
Reminded him of those loud mornings where his family chatted and argued the early hours of the day cycle away as they dipped sweet flaky mica and quartz bread into their piping hot mugs.
Hidden optics landed on a metallic board chock full of keepsakes, doodles, magnets and crystal images as he drummed his digits on the table.
A past version of himself smiled wide in the shiny glass frame, squished in a hug by his Ori and siblings that were able to join him on his and Blaster's graduation day from Staniz University.
More recently, a memory file from their time at the coast played again and again in a neverending loop. Almost everyone had made it for that one, despite their busy schedules, somehow closer again after grief had struck the family.
It made his spark burn brighter just at the thought of them.
Maybe he should give his Ori a call one of these days, just to make sure that him, BC and the others were doing alright? He would try to remember to take down the recipe so he could share it with the loved ones he had here, too.
He lingered a bit too long on the first image, optics tracing the helicopter that'd managed to insert himself into Jazz's family with all the grace of a Primus sent whirlwind.
Mornin' to you too, Whirl. Aft, Jazz thought as he stood on much more stable legs. A smile, much smaller and more real, graced his faceplate in the safe haven that was his apartment, far away from a home that hadn't been home for a while now.
Not since his university days or his travels across the globe. Not since…him.
Wait just a little longer till we find you and bring you back home, yeah?
The chronometer thundered in his vision like a storm cloud then, subsequently ruining his wish to a cosmic deity, the Universe, something, anything.
Swearing under his breath in a mix of Standard and Polyhexian, Jazz dashed for the counter to gather up his lunch and toss it into his subspace. His datapad and charger were more carefully tucked away, being some of his only expensive items.
He was successful, but just barely, in keeping the protein shake from meeting its ill timed fate on the tile floor as he headed to the front door. The decorated carabiner he carried everywhere jingled as he locked up before it also disappeared in a sleight of hands.
Jazz was one of the first out of his apartment save for a couple neighbors heading out or returning from the many courier, restaurant or city jobs. It had it's perks, but sometimes, it meant the elevator was in use as it went up the next floor above.
It didn't bother him none, though. With a grin, he slid down the banister of stairs down to the first floor with magnetized digits, sparks flying in their wake till he reached the bottom. Take that stairs.
His radio flicked on as soon as his tyres hit the pavement to his favorite station and he shifted into first gear. It made the commute all the easier, and the radio hosts had great banter, if Jazz could say so himself.
Headlights glittering, he followed the glow of other bots onto the looping highways that whipped around the city, quietly wondering what gossip they'd spill on Cybertron this cycle. And maybe, just maybe, he'd get a lead.
Prowl carefully measured out the iron and copper flakes needed for a bubbling pot of energon, his frown deepening as new details on a traffic jam were revealed over the radio broadcast. The various radio stations had become a solid fixture to his new routine as he became more familiar with the multicultural communities that made up greater Iacon; learning that the ongoing construction projects around the city were very much the same had been less than ideal.
He listened to the chatter of the radio host a bit longer, reviewing the planned route to the monorail station, before shutting off the noise in mild annoyance.
Having such large gaps of time between his work schedule was odd to Prowl. The empty calendar space had still glared at him until he'd taken up more research on the city's museum row, historic neighborhoods and leading sparkling experts.
Was Prowl really so predictable?
The first week at a new site was often destabilizing for everyone involved, with enough data packets to leave a bot with a processor ache and a need for a rich, pressed drink.The reminder of the local bakery, which he'd ordered freshly baked wheelnuts and pressed energon at opening hours to ensure he'd eat something throughout the day, being hours away had his wings drooping low.
Sighing deeply through his vents, he watched as the metal swirled with every motion of his spoon, retreating into his mind. The last thing Prowl wanted was to be tired and irritable in front of his...his...bitlet? Charge? Adolescent? ...Youngling? He would need to get this sorted out before he was asked the age old questions by his new coworkers.
A sudden movement had his wings flaring out wide and his helm turning towards the window. Upon further investigation, his optics had refocused and spotted a tiny, green felinoid scaling the balcony.
Outside was a bustling neighborhood in all of its unfamiliarity. It's shining, angular towers were as much a beacon as they were remnants of previous generations. The memory files were better kept filed away, deep, deep in his processor.
He shut the flame, and searched for a few dark bowls they'd brought from home in the sparse cupboards to ladle the now finished copper congee in each before placing them on the empty island.
It would take some time for the apartment to feel less imposing and intimidating, he thought as he watched as steam curl from the spout of the new electric kettle.
A few glass jars of metal shavings and folded cleaning cloths had been left out after their first big shopping trip in the city to make the bare space feel the slightest bit more welcoming, less sterile. (He hoped.)
The rest of their belongings would be arriving with the movers in the coming weeks, but Prowl hadn't minded having less for the time being if it meant giving his newly adopted adolescent more space to fit in as much as he could of her belongings into his cab.
A flashing timer on his HUD system drew Prowl out of his thoughts, and he turned to carefully pour the topaz infused energon tea into each of the awaiting mugs.
Just as he'd set one down in it's rightful spot, he heard a door slam. The mug in his hand was held too tightly between his digits as his wings tracked movement from outside the dark hallway. A door in the apartment had been closed to the right, most likely the wash rack. He tried to settle his field and complete his task, knowing she was safe.
When he turned, wide, blue optics met his own as his...youngling braced herself on the back of an island chair, her school's new datapad in hand. The clacking of a mug on the counter gave away the surprise Prowl felt. (How had she moved so quietly?)
"Strongarm." He dipped his helm and wings in greeting, breaking optic contact. He'd been told enough he stared too intensely.
"Prowl, forgive me for getting up so late," She started, wings failing to stop their twitching as she righted herself. "My alarms hadn't heard the…I didn't get to," She frowned at herself before smoothing her features. "It is not an excuse. I got myself ready as quickly as I could."
Prowl tilted his helm, intoning frankly, "Why apologize when you've done nothing wrong?" The new time change had been difficult on both of them, on top of a long travel from Praxus.
The younger Praxian's EM field sputtered with a sharp burst of emotion that disappeared as quickly as it came. She didn't look at him, let alone answer him, choosing to stare at the floor instead.
Prowl frowned, vocalizer queuing glyphs and stopping as he thought of what to say. He went for a frank, clear response in an attempt to soothe her blank field, "We are still on time for the commute to your new school, Strongarm. The Director is going to finish coordinating with the rest of the Board members so I am free to travel with you this week while you get adjusted." He awkwardly gestured in front of himself. "Please, eat. I had just finished heating up tea."
A mug was nudged in her direction, and Strongarm glanced at the spread on the isand for the first time. Her expression was unreadable as she took a seat on the smaller of the two chairs, dipping her helm and wings in response.
She pulled a mug closer to herself. "Thank you, Prowl, it won't happen again."
Prowl paused briefly before taking a seat beside her, momentarily stunned. He settled into one of the taller of the uncomfortable seats, a burning lump of lead settling in his tank as he reached for his own spoon.
The datapad's adjustable stand was pulled from its case as Strongarm set it in front of her. Prowl glanced away as she unlocked it, not wanting his systems to memorize the passcode.
Instead, his thoughts raced as he tried to decipher what she had said to him, his field kept close to his protoform.
(What had she meant by that? Should he ask her now, and risk that she stops eating entirely? If not now, could he address this on the commute or once they returned to the apartment?)
He watched her quietly pick at her breakfast and open a lengthy datafile between bites of his own meal. The dark circles under her optics were even more prominent under the dangling kitchen lights and the glow of the screen. Her yellow chevron and blue plating were a touch duller in shade, too.
(When had her last preening session been? Would she let him do it for her, or would she prefer someone else?)
He wanted to address this, among the hundreds of questions that were trying to escape his vocoder. He needed to ask her, even if he lacked the words to bring up all of what he felt in detail.
She flipped through another page of something she was absorbed in, spoon hovering in the air.
"What have you been reading?" He asked instead, mentally kicking himself for not being able to ask a simple question.
"My school handbook."
He nodded. "Smart."
Silence fell around them, and Prowl worked through his own meal with a heavy weight on his winged shoulders.
Soon, he finished his meal and placed his dishes into the empty sanitizer. While Strongarm had left to grab her school's magnetic emblem, he poured the remainder of her meal into a clear glass container for later.
"Do you have everything, Strongarm?" asked Prowl, exiting the kitchen to where they were to meet at the entryway. Her small frame was engulfed in the empty space that would connect them to the living room, but his keen optics spotted her as she stood at attention, heels together and wings angled perfectly.
Like he'd done since the first time she'd appeared like this after waking up in his apartment, his field bristled at the sight but remained at a respectful distance. Spark aching, he said in a much softer tone, "Very well, then. Let's go to the station."
The relief he felt as Strongarm followed him out of the door was immediate, yet kept hidden. Together, they walked in silence down the hallway, and drifted down the few steps to join the mecha walking around the apartment complex.
"Wait just a moment, Strongarm." Prowl walked towards the transportation bay. There were a few bots already in their alt modes, waiting for the next opening to depart. An inhale of a vent later and then the whoosh of pneumatics and the methodical clinking of armor combined with the outside world as he transformed neatly into his own alt.
He swung his doorwings open wide. "Please sit wherever you'd like."
Strongarm nodded, folding her doorwings neatly behind her and carefully sliding into Prowl's nearside seat. His seatbelt found her shaky hands as she fumbled briefly behind her, but she fastened it herself without a word; the smooth metal of the latch plate making a satisfying click once it locked into place.
"Careful with your digits." Prowl said before carefully hiding her from view.
They merge into the sea of traffic in a more comfortable silence, save for the few bumps of the road and the rumbling of Prowl's engine.
"What would you like to listen to this cycle?" Prowl asked hesitantly, "There are various news or radio stations throughout Iacon, or the datafiles and recordings we brought from the old apartment, on your new school, and the cities' museums."
"Anything is fine." Restlessness and fear continued to bubble underneath the surface, making her hesitate but she managed to ask, "...Can you play some of the recordings of the Helix Gardens? I have the handbook bookmarked on my datapad for later but driving can...um..."
"I'd be happy to."
In the reflection of his mirrors, Strongarm's faceplate ghosted a smile before she turned to stare out the window.
The ride continued, this time with the soft, chiming of carved crystals his colleagues had been perfecting.
Prowl's plating itched as unfinished conversations lingered in the air like smoke, even with the peaceful music. In the few weeks they had been living in Praxus together, he had noticed more disturbances in her recharge and the current change in her eating. Both had been listed as challenges for sparklings and younglings with a history like hers, but it was difficult to address it if she didn't want to acknowledge its existence.
He thought of what the various medics and sparkling educators Smokescreen had suggested he listen to said: ask her if she'd consider speaking to her new medic about mental health care on her next visit.
"Strongarm, I would like to ask…" Prowl stopped as he saw her helm loll slowly to the plush lining of his inner door. She had fallen into recharge almost instantly, just like when they'd driven out of the city.
He couldn't bring himself to wake her. Not when she had turned her helm closer to his seatbelt, her warm vents and loosened field evening out finally, and let him cradle her, even briefly. He had someone in his care now.
Time waited for no one, least of all him, but Prowl would be damned if he didn't give this his all.
He kept driving.