Chapter Text
Bots stood in rows, faced towards the memorial, helm held low as they mourned. The funeral arrangements had been made, processed, and finalized. Prowl had been laid to rest in the field of spark flowers, name engraved in the memorial. Jazz, as his Conjunx, hadn't even needed to lift a digit as Prowl had planned everything for his unplanned demise.
As bots started to meander and wander about, having hushed discussions between one another, Jazz remained at the forefront. Staring at the newly chiseled name on the memorial. His processor was empty of all thoughts, he could hear no music, all he heard was static in his audials as the bots around him continued to converse.
Smokescreen and Bluestreak, friends, close companions and brothers of Prowl, flanked his sides as he stood there, standing in front of the memorial receiving condolences. As bots started to vacate the premises, Smokescreen pulled out a gleaming metal box and wordlessly handed it to Jazz. The box, heavy in his servos, knocked him back into reality. He let his servos trace the patterns on the box, grounding him. Glancing down he noticed an engraving on the top of the box, "To My Jazz".
—
Later that evening in the privacy of his habsuite, the one he had shared with Prowl, he opened the box revealing a set of datapads and holovid devices. Turning on the device at the very top, a hologram flickered to life. A hologram recording of Prowl started to play.
"Jazz I love you and I will always be with you, now and forever more." Coolant started streaking down his faceplate as he played the holovid over and over again. Letting Prowl’s voice wash over him. He felt his spark constrict, as if he was feeling too much at once, his voice box crackled as he let out a whine while sobbing.
Letting the holovid continue to play on repeat, he calmed himself down, pulling himself back together. Jazz then played the next one, and then the next.
"I hope you have a good day Jazz." Clear memories flowed through his processor, on days where he left the habsuite first, Prowl would be sipping his morning energon in their small kitchenette. The smell of warm energon wafting through the air as he greeted him warmly before saying they said their farewells so they could both start their day.
“Remember to fuel Jazz.” It was just one time, one time! Jazz had thrown himself into a frenzy dealing with a… um… sensitive situation, one that his fellow spec ops to this day never let him forget. But Prowl never let him live down the fact he forgot to fuel the entire day because of it, because Jazz was always the one to pester Prowl into taking his energon breaks. But he had been so sweet about it, placing a cube of energon into his servos in between his franticness, and coaxing him to take sips. Jazz let out a smile and a sigh, remembering those tender moments.
“How was the club today Jazz?” Jazz paused, the club? He didn’t have a club… at least not yet. It had been one of his dreams to open a club after the war. Though, he hadn’t mentioned it to anybot in vorns. Thinking back on those late night discussions in their shared berth, planning for after the war. It warmed his spark even as another wave of grief flowed through him, Prowl had remembered his after-war dreams and had left him this for the peace.
Jazz. Jazz. Jazz.
Simple, endearing messages, recorded for cycles. Jazz played each one and placed them down on the table gently as if the mechanisms were made of the most fragile of glass. Picking up the datapads he read their covers as he allowed the recordings to play on repeat in the background. Each datapad was labeled for a situation.
“Read First”
“Sad"
“Lonely”
“Yearning”
“Club Opening”
“Happy”
Deciding to read the first datapad, he placed the others down on the table. He let Prowl’s voice wash over him as he read the first.
"To My Jazz,
To leave you behind is one of my greatest regrets, know that I would do anything to be there with you. In any scenario that I did not make it back to you, I have entrusted others to ensure you receive these momentos.
I did not wish to leave you behind with nothing, thus I created these, for you. I hope that even in my passing you may find joy in the time we spent together and these holovids bring you comfort.
Live long, enjoy the peace, and when the time comes, come back into my arms and tell me what I’ve missed.
I love you,
Prowl"
“Oh Prowler…” Optics glistened with more coolant as he read the last few lines. Live long and enjoy the peace, he would do that, live the life they should’ve had together and then when they’re reunited, he would tell Prowl all about his life. He would have to place a servo over his dermas in order to shut him up. Yeah… that sounded like a great plan.
“I love you too Prowl.” Hugging the datapad to his chest, he felt his spirit life. He has a goal, he has a purpose, and the war has ended. It was time to live his life.
—
“Dear Jazz,
How many cycles or vorns has it been? I would hope you are taking care of yourself. If you have opened this letter that must mean your club is ready. I am so proud of you Jazz, for surviving and for living on. This club has been a dream of yours since the beginning of the war, and I know you and the club will prosper.
Tell me about your day, your set up. Tell me about the interesting patrons you’ll meet, I know you were built for socializing like no other. Tell me about your songs. I hope you will sing for me once more my love.
Take care My Jazz,
Prowl”
Kissing the datapad, he placed it back down on the counter. Looking up he glanced around, taking in everything that the space offered. A large space with a square space in the middle for dancing, an elevated platform on one side for the DJ, rigged with lights and smoke machines. A bar lined up the other side with an island and seats for patrons to sit and chat with the bartenders. On the opposite wall of the entrance there was a series of booths for large groups to hang out in. A spot for everyone to come down and have a party, destress from the work of the day.
Looking across the room, he saw Blaster still rigging up the DJ booth, waving at him and receiving one back. His business partner and fellow music enthusiast had joined him, making this club a joint venture. It helped a lot, while working through the grief of losing Prowl and building the club, Blaster had been a great help.
After the war ended he had stepped down from command and instead found a space to claim for his club. The rebuilding of Cybertron was happening at an exponential rate as Cybertronians returned from different corners of the galaxy to resettle on their home planet. Shops, factories, and housing had been set up and with that the economy was slowly restarting.
If Prowl was here now, he would most likely be working for the new government under Optimus. Assisting in the preparations and statistics of the rebuilding efforts, probably working through the backlog of returning settlers. Or maybe he would be working with the enforcers, maybe as a chief, just like he had before the war. Jazz remembered that Prowl had enjoyed his job as an enforcer, so if things settled maybe he would have returned to the force.
But all Jazz could do was speculate the what ifs. He thought that if Prowl was here, he would give him the statistics of the what ifs, it’d be such a Prowl thing to do. With a happy sigh he glanced back down at the datapad. Of course his lover had planned to make sure he had a letter for every occasion, it was so him .
Cybertron was shining, peace was settling, and he had his club and his friends. The only thing he was missing was his lover, his Conjunx, the missing piece of his spark.
“I miss you Prowl.”