Prowl was…he was awake. Or, not awake, but aware. He wasn’t online, he couldn’t move, and there was nothing he could see or hear, no sensors, no control, nothing turned on but he wasn’t dead and he wasn’t offline. It was like spectator mode. Without the spectating. Why was he alive? Or maybe he wasn’t, and this was whatever happened after a human-turned robot was systematically terminated by the only person they cared about or trusted.
Jazz.. Prowl wished he could curl in on himself, for one of the rare moments in his life, wished he could cry. Jazz had killed him. He’d actually done it. The only person- the only- if he had a real body, if he could move, if he could breathe, he would have choked back a sob. The only person- well, he had been starting to almost trust some of Jazz’s friends, to an extent. Then that fragger Mirage had gone and broken the first thing he could get his grubby hands on. Jazz had stopped Prowl from killing the bastard, and it pissed Prowl off, having Mirage and the others crawling around his body, terrified him to have anyone willing or able to alter him alive and breathing, living where they could access his most inner workings- terrified him to let someone proven both willing and able to alter him against his consent- made him furious that he couldn’t just, couldn’t just remove the threat, couldn’t kill anyone willing to hurt him- but it was worth it if it kept Jazz around. Kept him safe, kept him well, kept him… well, kept him where Prowl could- where Prowl could be with him. Know he was alright. Actually see him. Jazz was the only- had been the only person- the only person Prowl could ever trust. That’s. That’s what he had thought. What he had calculated, what he believed. Jazz was safe, Jazz was kind, Jazz was funny, Jazz was sweet, Jazz was…well he had hoped once that Jazz might- that Jazz might be- be his, or maybe want to, or be okay with that-
