There was sadness today. That was the first thing Prowl picked up on when he awoke from recharge. He couldn't figure why he sad or what for when he realized it came from his mate. Said mate lay on his back, an unusual position for the Solstice, next to him. He seemed to be still in recharge but on closer speculation, Prowl found that his visor was too bright to be in recharge.

"Mornin', love." Jazz turned his head toward his mate, smiling in his greeting. Prowl scowled at the sabotager for a long moment. "What's on yer min'?"

"I'd ask you the same question."

Jazz gave him a confused look before sitting up from the two mech berth. The sadness that Prowl felt was all but gone now, replaced by bubble joy that he always felt through the bond. He relaxed a little.

"Me, Bee, and the kids are goin' ta concert tonight." Jazz referred 'kids' to his two young human friends, Sam Witwicky and Mikayla Banes. When asked why he chose such nicknames, one would receive only a shrug and a noncoherant answer. Not that two minded, at the time they where just happy to have there friend not torn in two, thanks to Handy Dandy Ratchet. In fact, all the Autobots had picked up on the nickname and even Optimus used on the rare occasion. "Do ya wanna come?"

Prowl was revolted by the thought of being surround by hundreds of sweating, smelling, humans. "No," he stated bluntly.

The Solstice put on a dejected face and looked at his feet. "Oh, ok...That's fine." He turned slowly and began shuffling his way to the door.

Prowl cycled air through his vents in mock annoyance. "Fine, I'll come. But I get first dibs on the cuffs this time!"

Jazz laughed and half danced, half walked back to the berth to give Prowl's chevron a loving kiss. He walked out humming something faintly recognizable. Jazz had a wonderful voice. Prowl loved to sit and listen to him sing. It was his favorite thing. His songs where very popular back home, the lyrics always talking about love and life and finding ways through the darkest time. Prowls personal favorite was a song called 'Home'. It spoke of being in a place that you belong, one of peace and happiness. Prowl always pictured that that would be the life he would lead with Jazz. If it hadn't been for the war, Prowl would have his home with Jazz. Jazz might have been still singing, too. Prowl hadn't heard a musical note from his bond-mate since Jazz's creators and younger sister was slaughter by a Decepticon raiding party.

That raiding party had been going through the middle class neighborhood, going from house to house, killing anyone that refused to pledge allegiance to Megatron and his cause. Jazz's parents had refused and had been murdered. Jazz would have followed had he'd been home. He was at the auditorium that Blaster owned, singing his spark out. He came home that night to find the sparkless shells of his family. From that day on he had not sang, he refused, saying it was a curse to be kept quiet.

Prowl knew that Jazz missed being in front of his fans, holding the microphone in his hands, singing his life to the stars. Prowl was really the only one that knew just how fake his carefree facade was. He covered it up well, Prowl had to admit. He rarely felt the sadness or longing of a dream never realized through the bond, but he knew it was still there. There were times when Jazz would come into their room, still talking animatedly with someone about the latest episode of House or Fringe (Jazz strangely liked the more morbid show for some reason), but as soon as the good-byes were said and the door locked, he would collapse and start sobbing uncontrollably.

These times, all Prowl could do was hold his love and wait out the storm, wishing only his happy Jazz back. Prowl deemed these episodes necessary. Everyone needed an emotional outlet. Even Prowl himself (the pour twins got the blunt of his anger).


Prowl dreaded the end of his shift. No matter how much work lay in front of him, there was no way he was getting out of going to that concert. Why, for Primus sake, had he agreed to go?! So when his internal alarm clack went off, signaling the end of his shift, Prowl hadn't enough time to put down the data pad he'd been reviewing when a very bubbly Jazz burst through the door and dragged him out, much to his complaint.

Straight out the Ark they went, down the ramp and into the desert air. The yellow and black striped Camaro already stood waiting, his charges leaning on the hood. "Took you long enough!" Bumblebee joked. "What did you do, have to pry him from the desk?"

Prowl grumbled and Jazz laughed. The two humans joined in a minute later. Prowl and Jazz made an agreement with them when they told them they where bonded. Sam had demanded that, so they wouldn't attract attention to each other, that when they went out, one had to have a female holo, and Prowl had to have a different paint job (the Charger didn't like both but agreed). So Prowl changed his appearance by an installment that Jazz had. All special operation units had this technology. Small, micro sized holes in the armor allowed a liquid smart matter to ooze out and take the shape of the mech, flawlessly.

It was used for infiltration mission and always worked, being as you couldn't scratch it off with scratching off your real paintjob. It came off completely, without leaving a mark. Prowl didn't know where Jazz had gotten it for the day after he had showed it to him, Prowl had checked the stock history for the Ark and it wasn't included. Prowl decided he trusted his mate enough not to investigate; it wasn't abnormal for Jazz to have strange devices that looked illegal after all.

Prowl had been curious as to why he had to change his appearance. The police where there to protect so why was it not okay to have one at a concert? The only reason it wouldn't be good is if you were doing something you weren't supposed to... Prowl had increasing suspicion that human teenagers were dangerous in some form or fashion.

So Prowl turned from a police cruiser to a sleek black street car. Jazz set up a female holo and the humans packed into Bee. And off they went, through the desert away from the base, and into Tranquility.


Sam and Mikayla joked drunkenly with each other the whole ride back. Jazz and Bee just played along happily while Prowl was simply confused by the humans increasingly absurd behavior. It reminded him of mechs that had too much high-grade.

They dropped them off at there respective homes and the three Autobots headed back for the base. Prowl preferred the desert over the city, for here he could see the stars. He could see Cybertron on the clearest of nights. Tonight was one of those nights and it made him homesick. Not for the war scared planet but the home he had in the Golden age Cybertron.

Jazz must have picked up on his longing and opened a link with Bee. "Hey, you go ahead, we'll catch up."

"No late night interfacings! The Prime will be mad if you guys get back too late." Bee answered laughingly. Both Prowl and Jazz would have swatted at his helm had they the hands to do it. Bee raced away, laughing his little golden aft off. Prowl grumbled a few insults before sending a question over the bond. Jazz had changed course and was speeding off toward the mountains instead of the base.

: You seem sad: Jazz replied over the same connection.

: Just thinking of home:

: I miss it, too: The sadness was back now, like a hole in his spark.

: Today's the anniversary, isn't it:

A new wave of grief answered Prowls question. Jazz slowed down to a stop and transformered, Prowl followed.

"I miss them... If I had been there! I could have stopped them... They were so happy. Sync was so young... She shouldn't havedied!"

Prowl wrapped his lover in his arms, hoping to comfort the distraught mech.

"I'll never sing... I can't if that's what caused their death..."

"No! Your singing was not the cause of this! It was Megatron! Primus willed that you would survive to face him in the end. Jazz; don't give up something that you love. That was your life... for so long. You can't give up something that you were born to do. Why do you think they named you Jazz in the first place? They pictured you growing up singing to all Cybertron, not fighting to keep it safe. They wanted you to sing! Please Jazz... don't hurt yourself over this. You have to let yourself heal. Sing... For them, for me."

Prowl stared long and hard into Jazz's glittering optics. They stood like that for what seemed like hours. Then Jazz sang.