Hi guys! Long time no talk! The first part of this story, the stuff in BOLD, is not my work. It's part of a Fanfic written by my friend Toshi called 25 Cliffhangers. It's used with permission. If you haven't read Toshi's stuff, you should. Her Fanfiction name is The Laughing Platypus. Good news everyone! I have an editor! Yep. My writing style, you will notice, is now a lot cleaner and less full of mistakes. Toshi has kindly taken my story and edited it for me, rewriting a few paragraphs so that they look right. THANK YOU TOSHI! You rock! I don't own transformers. Duh. So yeah, I came back from rehearsal to discover Fanfiction. net had deleted one of my stories. Talk about a blow to the self esteem. Ouch. I've been really busy guys and that sorta knocked me off my writing edge. Toshi finally wrote something that caught my attention, so, here you go. My first fanfiction based on a fanfiction.




Gotta... Get up... Gotta... Slag... I'M NOT DONE YET! PRIMUS DAMN YOU LET ME UP! I'M NOT DONE YET!!!... I failed... Primus I failed... I'm so sorry Optimus...Take care of them for me... Please... Please take care of them... I... I... SYSTEM ERROR... SYSTEM E...rrrrrrr...

The world faded away in a painful flash of white as his spark flickered and went out.

"Your such a drama queen."


"Open your optics Jazz."

Slowly, Jazz opened his optics, finding himself staring into a face he had missed more then he had ever let on. That soft smirk he knew so well crossed Prowl's face.

"So I died."

"No, you went up against Megatron by yourself and survived. Of course you died."

"Is that sarcasm?" Jazz grinned as Prowls smirk turned into a scowl.

"Welcome to the matrix glitch-head." Prowl growled

"I've missed you Prowler..."

"I missed you too Jazzie."

Blue optics met for just a moment, before they were in each other's arms, lips meeting with a hunger that only came from years of being apart. For the first time since Prowls death, Jazz felt whole.

"Prowl...They need me." Jazz stared into his lovers optics, fighting the guilt bubbling up in his spark.

"So, you want to go back. I was wondering how long it would take."

"You know me Prowler...Giving up isn't in my programming."

"It just so happens, I have a way to get you back to Optimus and the others." Prowl smiled sadly.

"How?" Hope filled Jazz, maybe, just maybe he hadn't failed them after all.

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Will you be here when I get back?" Jazz stroked Prowl's cheek, remembering how much he had missed the feeling of just being near him.

"I will be where I always am. Right here." Prowl rested the palm of his hand against Jazz's spark casing.

"Then what are we waitin for?" Jazz put on his usual cheeky grin.

"I love you Jazzie... Say hi to the boys for me."

"Love you too Pro..."

Jazz was cut off as the world around him exploded, sending him crashing through a tunnel of dark pink.

The first thing he noticed was cold. If felt like someone had just dunked him in ice water. Everything was blurred and upside down. He tried to move, opening his mouth. The sound that came out wasn't the string of swear words he had intended to say. He was utterly shocked by how tiny and weak it sounded. Not his voice at all.


"Relax Jazz... Your ok."

"Prowl! What the slag is happening to me!"

"You said you wanted to go back."

"BACK TO WHERE? Slag I hope Ratchet is around, I think I'm seriously damaged."

"Your perfectly healthy. Now relax. I'll see you in 78 years."

"What?! PROWL!"

The next words he heard, explained everything.

"Congratulations Mrs. Witwicky. Its a girl."


As Sam and Mikaela Witwicky looked down at the scrunched face of their brand new baby daughter, Jazz did the only thing he could. He screamed.

"She's got a nice set of lungs on her, doesn't she?" Sam said with a grin.

"So, have you picked a name yet?"

"Emily Jazz Witwicky."

"Bee is going to be so excited."

-5 years later-

Mikaela's eyes widened as she looked down at the girl who was pounding out some sort of boogie woogie tune on the piano in front of her as if she'd been playing for twenty years. She could swear Emily was grinning at her. Of course she was. She had found something that had made the past five years actually seem worth it. When Jazz had seen the piano against the wall at Mikaela's friend Kate's house, she had almost cried. Now she was playing as fast as her flimsy little fingers could move, hoping that maybe her "mother" would decide to get her a piano of her own.

Finally, she had found her voice. It had been a long four years, but she had done it. Things were starting to look up.

At first, Jazz had wanted to stab her. Blow her up. Run her over. Light her on fire. Or maybe stab her, then blow her up, then run her over, then light her on fire. The first two years had been complete and utter torture. She could hardly move. She couldn't control any of her functions. And the people. Jazz didn't think she would ever like people again.

Mikeala had passed her to every stupid human she met to coo over and there hadn't been a damned thing she could do about it. For Primus sake, it had taken her a full two years just to get a word out. She had decided long ago what her "first word" would be.

It was suppose to be slag, but it came out as "swag" which of course got her nothing but more annoying stupidity from Mikaela and Sam and hours of them trying to get her to say it again.

She was so grateful for Bee. The little scout had saved her from losing her mind without even realizing it. She thought back fondly on the day she and Bee had "talked". He thought the little scout was about to empty his gas tank right there in the driveway when she had carefully snuck out the front door in the middle of the night and climbed into his front seat. Would have made the twins proud, she thought to himself as she continued to plunk away at the piano, switching from boogie woogie to progressive jazz and smirking at awestruck expression on the faces of her mother and her mother's friend. This was gonna be good. Using her cute little girl voice to her advantage, Jazz sealed the deal.

"Mama! Kin I have a piano? Pwease?"

Two days later, a piano was delivered to the Witwicky house.