Chapter 8

Something far too bright was shining into his optics.

"Owww…" Jazz groaned, draping one arm over his face to block out the light. His side ached with the familiar sting of fresh welding, and the tang of energon and cleaning solution told the Porsche that he was in the repair bay. He gingerly opened his optics and let them adjust before he peeled his arm away from his visor to take a look around. Yup, it was the repair bay alright.

Cautiously, Jazz levered himself into a partial sitting position and rolled off the berth, mindful of his recent repairs and not wanting to invoke the CMO's wrath by pulling it all out of place. Ratchet tended to get a little narrow-minded about such things.

Surprisingly, the Repair Bay was empty. Jazz took a couple of steps out of his small ward and looked around, then stopped in his tracks. Prowl was sitting on a bench at the other end of the main ward, a temporary patch welded onto his chest as he read a data pad. The Special Ops officer backed up slowly.

Even though when roused the Prime's anger was down right terrifying, Jazz would have much preferred to re-wind the past two days and confess the whole story to a furious Optimus than face up to the mech he had shot.

Jazz took another step back and flinched. His still un-repaired ankle joint cracked like a pistol shot in the near silence. There was no way that Prowl could not have heard it, so with a sigh, Jazz walked back to where Prowl could see him, the tactician already having risen to investigate the sound.

There was an awkward silence.

Prowl broke it first. "Ratchet thought that it would be best that we sort this out on our own." He said, door wings twitching slightly in a nervous tic. "He guessed that you would try to sneak away when you saw me, so he left your ankle un-repaired."
"Yeah, he guessed right." Jazz sighed, refusing to look Prowl in the optic. "Look, I shot you, an' it's somethin' I'm pretty ashamed of, so whatever punishment y' wanna ask for, I ain't gonna argue 'bout it."
"Punishment can only be given when charges are pressed, and I'm not going to do that."
Jazz's head snapped up. "Y' not? But…"

"Prime explained the situation to me and I have had ample time to think on it." Prowl interrupted. "Chief had you cornered, there was little other choice. In the same situation, I may have made the same decision." The Datsun paused for a moment. "And there is no reason to worry about the others. Chief has been very talkative while you were unconscious, though I feel it may have had more to do with the Dinobotsand the twinsthan any real desire to make the truth known."

"Heh, ol' Grimmy can be quite th' convincer when he wants t' be." Jazz chuckled, his trademark grin slowly returning to his face.
"Quite." Prowl replied mildly.

"Well then, there's just one last thing t' clear up." Jazz said.
"What?" Prowl asked.
"Hit me." The Porsche instructed.
"Hit. Me." Jazz repeated. "It's a Special Ops thing. If y' have t' shoot someone while on an op, they get t' hit you once y' get back. Debt o' honour type stuff."
"I take it you've been in this sort of situation before?" Prowl queried, stalling for time as he tried to figure out a way of getting out of it.
Jazz shrugged. "Moreth'n once." He lifted his chin and braced himself. "Now hit me 'fore I make you hit me."

Knowing that the Porsche could get quite pedantic about issues of restitution and not wishing to cause a scene, Prowl doubled his fist and lightly cuffed Jazz on the shoulder. "Debt paid." He smiled. Jazz grinned back. "Debt paid indeed."


Just wanted to say a heartfelt thankyou to- Ultra Rodimus, Draange, Tiamat1972, Hika, Tirya King, TruebornChaos, DesertCat87, turbomagnus, Leah, Angelus Prime, Angel of Forgotten Souls, Lizzy, Straya, DeltaSilver88, MajesticBurn, Professot-Aiden, PuraJazzBot, and anyone that I've missed for reading and reviewing this thing. If it wasn't for you guys, this fic might never have happened