[ti]Ep 2.5[/ti]Silence is Never Alone - [Closed]

[Optimus Prime]

Episode 2.5 | Week 1 | Day 1


Fuel was scarce, it was growing more and more difficult to obtain, and the truce that was meant to work in their favor in an underhanded bit of manipulation? Well... it simply didn't pan out. They were meant to have found a new mine by now, meant to have found a place they could harvest Energon effectively, without fear of the Decepticons breaking in and running them out with their greater numbers. The Truce meant it couldn't be contested! But... it all relied on there being something to contest over to begin with, and they haven't found anything.

Some Energon here, a bit there, it was around, that much was certain, but the small deposits they did find seemed to be just tiny tastes, a fleck that was shed prematurely when the initial drops were made on the planet so many millennia ago. There had to be more fuel somewhere near these points, but nothing was ever found, or they wan into civilization where they could not tread.

So much had to lie beneath the human cities, so much fuel, so much life. Optimus as noble as he was, and how diligently he followed the higher road, could not dismiss the frustrated desire to rip a city up just for the team's survival. Would he do that? Never. He would never follow through with such thoughts, and anyone that would suggest such a thing in earnest would be looked down upon, but... it doesn't stop the sad wish to reach what was so close yet so very far.

It felt like the team was spinning its wheels, unable to find traction, unable to get a win. Even the win of the Truce felt bitter at this point, and was accomplishing so very little that it was set out to do. A sever need to be made, a division between past and now, so that new ideas could be brought to the surface and new thoughts could push them forward, but... it felt suffocating in a way in the Outpost.

The same gray walls, the same hollow noises, the same stale air and disappointment.

He needed to get out, to breach the familiarity that caged around them to try to clear his thoughts and medicate inward to find a new path to take. He needed to be alone, someplace where he couldn't see the seams and destruction within the walls and ceiling of his room, nor hear the chatter of others talking. He didn't want to feel the overbearing weight of gloom the base was representing to him, when the outpost was meant to be hope and represent how nothing could take them down.

He needed to be alone, away.

---

A great expanse of land flowed out before the Prime, dry compacted dirt muddling with strips of sand that wove and curled in flowing dunes that crested with rough rockwork. Deep channels snaked between the broad patches and stones, curving like a river where the wind had scored out a path in its wake. These rolling hills were flecked in bramble and shrubbery, dry twigs formed in tight bunches to offer support and shelter to the few scattered bits of wildlife that called such a place home. An occasional Joshua tree stood out to break the flat plane, its jagged trunks jerking up and splitting into bristle leaved bunches at the end.

In the far distance rough small mountains stood to frame the basin, dull flecks of varied color forming along its flank to indicate the millions of years of different sediment that compacted together. It was past this point and beyond where the Omega Outpost was, and it was that far that Optimus roamed to try to seek inner peace that possibly could not be found at this time.

The large Cybertronian shifted out of his alt-mode within this basin, heavy peds crunching down to crush and crackle small stones that were trapped beneath his weight. Dust curled from his previous momentum, having been trapped in the wake of his Altmode only to now skirt over his shins to coat the brilliant blue and chrome in a thin layer. He stood where he landed in silence a moment, listening to the soft click and hum of his engine as it cooled down from the off road journey that was not exactly amicable to a wheeled vehicle.

After a moment, the Prime took a few paces forward, his gaze canted towards the ground, scouring, searching for something, before he found a rough overhang that blotted the brutal sun's onslaught and made a small shady patch. Carefully, with a few additional strides, he moved over to this point, and gradually eased down in the shade to sit, to think.

His eyes closed.

[Jazz]

     There was more than one way to blend in with the surrounds. Sometimes they involved something as simple as looking like you belonged. No one ever questioned you if you walked around and acted as though you were supposed to be there. That Jazz had perfected since the time his life had first depended on it. Though there was another way- and that involved more of the physical aspects of one’s surroundings. Moving in and out of the shadows, keeping noise to a level that made it near impossible to be heard, and keeping out of the sights of those around you. That was something else that Jazz was good at- and that was what kept him from being spotted by his Leader.

     He had spotted Optimus when he had left the base- really, who wouldn’t notice the largest of them all just walking out of there and driving off? He wasn’t exactly quiet or tiny in stature. Jazz could have stayed behind, collecting more things on his datapad like he had been for what felt like forever now, but instead he chose to follow his old friend. Something had to be bothering him for him to break his own rule of ‘no one travels alone’ and the fact that he was daring to waste the energy to leave when fuel was already scarce enough as it was. No way was Jazz going to let him go off alone. There was too much riding on Optimus’s survival.

     So as the large truck made his way across the deserts, Jazz kept out of sight. His engine didn’t purr, nor did he do anything that would disturb the sound patterns being made by the vehicle ahead of him. He stayed in tune with him, even so much as transforming far behind when he did and keeping to the shadows as the Autobot leader walked about and then finally came to settle in the shade. It would take some time before Jazz would make his presence known- having to make sure the coast was clear so that not both of them were caught up in some triggered trap.

     “Well, ain’t this just a quaint lil’ hole ya found us. Quiet and romantic- perfect for an outdoor picnic!” Jazz approached in his typical fashion of being heard before he was seen, his pedes light to the surface of the Earth below him. For a bulky mech, he had an odd way of ghosting himself over things sometimes. It came handy to be hollow sometimes.

     “The humans here got a sayin, ya know. ‘Penny for your thoughts’. Didn’t get it at first, givin’ how little a penny is worth to Earth currency- but I found out that it’s our equivalent to ‘lendin’ one your audial’.” Jazz let out a heavy vent as he flopped down alongside Optimus and sat there with one knee to his chest as he leaned back on his servos that where pressed to the ground diagonally behind him. He wasn’t looking at him, but instead straight a head at the surrounding area they were in. “What’s eatin’ up your processor? And don’t lie to me, cause ya know I can pick that out faster than you could finish sayin’ it and I already got an idea. So lay it on me, OP.”

     After that he would go quiet, giving his old friend time to register that he was not going to have the alone time he clearly had left the base for. And hopefully not send him clear across the valley with a backhand swing. Not like he had ever known his leader to be violent like that, but there was always that first time.

[Optimus Prime]

Controlling ones reactions was a time honed skill for the Prime. You react out of impulse, you respond out of alarm or fear, and that was how innocents became hurt, or mistakes were made that could not be taken back. In the first days of the war, when the clerk was new and young to such conflict, he would have responded much differently to Jazz's arrival. A gun raised, a lurch to ones feet, surprise at being snuck up upon and the fear of it being an enemy that was there to try to clip the wings of an Autobot leader. It was better to swing a gun in a friends face and spook them back, than it was to end up dead before said weapon could be drawn. But that was a novice's logic, and experience allowed Optimus to know right away that the words that were spoken, were those of an ally, and not of something that would intend to bring him harm.

Besides, why would Decepticons or MECH announce themselves?

Gradually, cyan optics opened while the other mech spoke, the tired gaze settled in the expanse of land in front of him, more so than the individual that ghosted into the open at his side. He could see the movement from the corner of his sight however, knew where he was, but didn't directly regard him as of yet, though could appreciate the talent needed to sneak up on him in such an open environment like this. Either Jazz's skills truly were honed well in these many years between them, or more was on his processor than he let on, and it left him vulnerable and blind to tells and clues that otherwise would have tipped him off earlier.

He wished that he was aware of this hiccup in plans sooner though, as he would have made a diversion, made his way back towards the Outpost before Jazz made himself intentionally known. If he had realized he was being followed sooner, he could have retreated back and returned to task as if nothing was wrong, and avoid what was bound to be a less than enjoyable discussion he would rather just not deal with at this time.

He needed to catch up with Jazz, they had been friends so very long ago, and much has been left empty between them these past thousands of years... but... while Jazz seems so very much the same with just a few new skills and stories to his name, Optimus felt very different. He had changed a lot from before, and the difference was not something that could be ignored or simply shed off to be more open or accommodating. He was who he was now, and airing grievances or concerns was... a hard fought battle. Ratchet tended to have to corner him. The similarities between that and this were not lost to him.

As Jazz slumped down to rest beside him, Optimus' helm finally moved. It was a small action, one that tilted ever so slightly in the other mech's direction, allowing him to side eye and silently question him. Not that he truly needed to question it all, no... he knew the moment Jazz started speaking what was going to happen, and knew that he was attempting to corner him in this place to try to force words with him.

"For one so very expressive, your skill at going unheard is impressive."

Avoidance, a tactic he used well multiple times to turn the subject onto others and divert it off of himself. He did not enjoy speaking about his own grievances or concerns, as it was taking a heavy situation, and placing it upon the shoulders of others to bear. He wanted to alleviate other's pain, not pile up upon it. He would be fine, always has been, and always will.

"I am sure you could teach much to others."

In doing this he wasn't lying, but he also wasn't directly responding to what was asked of him. While he spoke however, his posture seemed to shift. What had been trying to relax and trying to unwind, now was rather formal again, as if they two were conversing within the Control Room and not a secluded strip of Nevada.

[Jazz]

     Jazz looked at Optimus with what seemed to be an expression of shock and maybe a bit of offense at his comments. "R-really? Ya haven't noticed in all this time I've known ya?! Where ya been, man? Bein' able ta sneak around is part of my basic skill set! Not that the cons like it much. Pretty sure they still wanna crucify me for that last outpost I wrecked on... hm. I can't remember the planet. Oh well." He offered a shrug then laughed, showing that he really wasn't hurt though it looked to be so otherwise. "Yankin' your chain. It's all good."

     It was just the two of them, so the formality that Optimus was showing him? Yeah, he had almost forgotten about that. He didn't see too much of Optimus after he joined up with the Elite Guard, as most of his orders were handed down from Magnus or whoever else was running the show from one time to the next, but the times that he had? It had the same air of 'I am Leader now and I have the weight of the entire Universe on my shoulders'. Not that it didn't have a hint of truth behind it or anything, but there had been a part of Jazz that had hoped it was just a temporary side-effect of the newly started war and the loss of his 'Brother' of sorts to the up-rise. Now? Jazz was realizing just how much of an impact all of this had taken on the mech he previously knew as Orion. Considering the reaction to the first contact he'd had with Optimus since his arrival...

     "I don't think teachin' the others would be such a great idea. I ain't been able to teach you a darn blasted thing in all the time I known ya. Except how ta sneak out without bein' spotted by your guardians at the Hall of Records." Jazz almost regretted having taught him all the hidden passages and what direction to take were to avoid detection from the highly secured building, but the encouragement of a particular Senator had definitely leaned him more in the direction of ‘this is the greatest idea ever’. "Never could teach ya to not venture into those special blends of high grade and whatever else the bars came up with. Some of that stuff could knock ya on your aft."

     Jazz reached over then with a closed fist and gave Optimus a light jab in the arm. It wasn’t a sign of aggression or anything like that but instead something he had often done to Orion back when they were still working closely together. A greeting that Jazz would use to snap his friend out of that deep concentration he was often in when he was so deeply focused on his work. Even after all this time and everything the pair had been through on their own ends, this still had that old spark of playfulness to it even if they were neither the same mechs from that time. Not fully, at least.

     "Just remindin' ya that it’s the two of us shootin’ the breeze, OP. Pretend that it's just you talkin' to yourself. I won't tell the others that ya weren't standin' at attention for a few minutes." Jazz flopped back with a heavy thud on his back, servos folded behind his helm as he stared at the sky overhead. "It's been a long while since I've had down time- and I don't doubt you're in the same boat- and we both need 'ta uncoil our wires a bit. So, for now, we’re just ol' friends. Level playin’ field. Ya ain’t my commander and I ain’t your soldier. Just lay back and just take in the beauty of the planet 'round ya."

[Optimus Prime]

There was a difference as far as Optimus was concerned. Back in the day, sneaking up on Orion was not a grand feat or accomplishment. He was often engrossed in his work or readings, and as long as an individual strode carefully enough, they could startle him if they put in the effort. Now? Now it was different. War. The fear of being caught off guard. The threat of long range attackers clipping your life before you knew what had happened. An individual trying to make a name for themselves by taking down the Autobot Leader...

Optimus was not paranoid, but there was a certain level of skill acquired over time. What sounds were out of place, what things were wrong, what areas would make him more vulnerable if he were to traverse... He was learned. The fact Jazz had slipped beneath all of this, remaining silent despite the grit and rubble, the shrubbery and other countless things that would crackle underfoot on an organic world... THAT was what was impressive, and what Optimus meant.

He may have made a comment to express this much, state how the past cannot be connected directly to this situation given the time separating, but Jazz seemed to move on and was going to flow the conversation elsewhere, much to the Prime's dismay. The more that was said, the more it built upon what was already there, adding additional thin layers of frustration.

Guardians... as if Orion could not watch after himself. He may have been young back then, but he was still learned, and was an independent adult, not a sparkling. He did as he saw fit outside of his shifts, and he worked within guidelines given at his appointed jobs. While Alpha Trion observed, and seemed to mentor in a way, he wasn’t what Orion would call a guardian who he had to sneak away from like some child, nor would he want to. The same could be said with some of the others he met along the way. The passages Jazz had shown him? It just facilitated his reclusive nature, and permitted him to avoid communications with more boisterous individuals that tried to make him more adventurous.

This frustration was perhaps superficial, finding fault within a simple turn of phrase more so than taking the point of it. However, he was already overburdened with stress to a point he abandoned his own Outpost to find solitude, and had been blocked from the time alone he desperately sought this day. None could blame him for becoming uptight over phrases that in the end meant nothing.

"You remember things far differently than I."

A low rumble, words that tried to remain even and neutral, but held an exasperated edge that had only grown more so after Jazz spoke of high-grade, painting Orion as some ignorant partygoer who fell victim upon multiple occasions. Orion could literally count on his hands how many times he has partook of such things, and that was only because he was pushed into the situations by individuals that thought it wrong he did not seek out such frivolous social adventures. It was as if he was being scolded, for relenting and doing what his friends had wanted, and teased for going out of his comfort zone at their request.

The mock punch against his arm pulled him from the reeling spiral of antipathy, his gaze focusing back to look over at Jazz, though his flat expression did not change at all in the process. The action was familiar, though from very long ago, it doing what it often had in days old to pull him out from deeper thoughts, but that didn’t erase what he was feeling.

"I do not know what you expect out of me Jazz. Things have changed so very much, and Orion is no more. I cannot turn back time."

Exhaustion, regulated words, he knew he wasn't being fair. Jazz was a friend from so long ago, but the divide was very real now. Time was cruel, and Optimus already came to terms long ago that Orion was another casualty of the war, making this interaction extra awkward. Jazz had not had time to see it unfold and occur gradually like Ratchet had, instead being bashed by the sudden departure from who he once was. To repair what was now broken between them, it would take effort, time, paired with patience that he had a good deal of, but in a way it cost some of his own... self... to maintain when he was already strung so thin.

"I however, appreciate the sentiment, even if I do not show it. I am just... tired."

[Jazz]

     "I don't expect ya to turn back time, Optimus. Sometimes I wish it were possible to but even I know when I gotta be a realist." Jazz was silent for a while then, just staring up at the sky overhead. Serious conversations were odd for him and he often just wanted to change the topic to something that wasn't as stressful to discuss. Especially since it was he and his old friend. There was a level of thickness to the air between them that could have been cut with a knife, but it wasn't because of anything Optimus had done to him- directly or indirectly. It was just so odd to him... all of it. 

     "We're all tired, OP. This war? It's changed each and every one of us. Some for the good, some for the bad. Some hide it better than others, but lets face it- if anyone tells ya that they're the same mech they were before all this mess started? They'd be lyin' to ya."

     There was a shift from Jazz and he turned slightly with his back to Optimus. He didn't stay in that position for long and rolled back onto his back. The saboteur was uncomfortable but it wasn't over the company. He just had the inability to sit still for long periods of time, even if it did provide a rare opportunity to not have to be watching his back. With a huff the mech was then sitting up and pulled one bent knee up and he slumped his arm on it briefly. He just stared out, thinking about something. Perhaps it was the reason for his suddenly tense frame?

     "I know I've done things that I ain't proud of, an' though I ain't been around to see your actions, I don't doubt for a second that ya haven't had some of them yourself." Jazz's frame was visibly tense and it added to his discomfort. It wasn't only the inability to sit still that was making him like this, but it was also thinking about the past. He hated finding himself in that place since he found it to be absolutely pointless to do so. "There ain't no use talkin' about what was. Ain't nothin' that can change it, right? Rememberin' 'the good ol' days' ain't gonna do nothin' but irritate me."

     There was a heavy vent from him and he finally found himself climbing to his pedes. He took a few steps forward and stared off once more. His servos were moving from one spot to another, from being on his hips to just hanging to now crossed over his chest. He was also shifting his weight from one pede to another.

     Fidgeting. Odd for a mech that always seemed to keep his cool in the company of others. Though it definitely showed his level of comfort with Optimus if he were allowing him to see this weakness in him.

     "You're my Leader, Optimus. I shoulda been around to keep ya safe from a lot of what I'm sure you and your team here faced. That was my job. That was my team's job. It's what the Elite Guard were sworn ta do." Jazz turned his helm to look over his shoulder at Optimus, though only briefly, and once more stared off. "We failed ya. I failed ya. As your friend and your soldier? It's inexcusable and I'm sorry that we weren't there..."

[Optimus Prime]

Jazz seemed awfully flustered, his mannerisms far more twitchy and words far more jumbled than Optimus recalled being even remotely normal. Laying down aimed away from him, rolling to his back, sitting upright, standing up entirely to move his arms in numerous positions... all accomplished in an exceptionally short period of time while speaking and venting out thoughts that seemed to flick around sporadically. The words had contradicted earlier statements, which just made it seem that much more flighty. He had said one moment they were not commander and soldier, yet he reeled around and then emphasized how he was his leader and how he was his soldier...

It had started off as if Jazz was trying to pry and force him to relax, to try to get information out of him or try to root out Orion, but now, it seemed Jazz was almost seeking reassurances, help, the focus shifting the other direction. Optimus was fine with it, he didn't want to be cornered, he didn't want to have his chosen mannerisms challenged, but on the other hand he was somewhat wishing Jazz could have picked a better time, since his patience was worn so very thin this day.

Always make time for your soldiers, always offer a hand.

A deadened look formed in the Prime's optics, exhaustion, tired; letting Jazz get all of his thoughts out before he even tried to formulate a response. Once there was a lull, and an opening arrived, he spoke calmly, an even tone that relayed his thoughts more as fact than suggestion.

"The Elite Guard held an archaic principle, sworn to protect those who have done so much wrong that they required the aid of Cybertron's best to protect them from the people."

It was a sad day in which the greatest Cybertron had to offer, was turned around and stapled to the side of leaders who shouldn't fear the populace. If the High Council had feared assassination and backlash that much, then they should have sought ways to amend it rather than hiding behind their golden palace as celebrated kings.

"Under my rule, I could have kept them at my side. Purchased complacency and ease at the cost of their Energon. Instead, I spread the guard to other outposts, where their skills could be handed down to others."

Optimus remembered some of the backlash he received from such a call. He of course kept a fair number of the Elite Guard with him, especially when he was still learning and adapting to war, but he had run their numbers thin by sending some as guides to smaller outposts. Optimus assumed this is when Jazz got separated from his side, confusion of orders, the white and blue mech appointed elsewhere to be assumed lost all this time. Whether this was the true point of severance or not, Optimus was unsure, for those days of the war held so many moving pieces it was hard to keep track of. It was like trying to watch a hundred different parts in a machine move, with the blanket of grief and stress choking his focus. Jazz just... fell between the cracks.

"You cannot tell me your presence elsewhere bore no success. The lives you have saved, the teams you have helped, I am certain you have earned your title and then some, protecting those who truly need it."

A bit of a gamble, Optimus knew Jazz arrived alone, which meant that there were no others that could make the trip with him. While he did not pry into such details, he still confidently believed Jazz likely had good stories to look back upon. Individuals he taught, people he saved... he was too much of a good person to not have held his hand out for others, playing the role of hero to many who did not hold the same training and raw talent he did.

"You needn't worry yourself with protecting me."

[Jazz]

     "We were scattered 'bout, but some of us stayed behind and watched over ya from a distance. With a war breakin' out did ya think you were gonna ever be left without some bodyguards?" Jazz looked at the other mech. "Things got really confusin' there when we were bein' sent here and there. Guess enough was done to make it look like we were all bein' obedient. But ya know I never could follow an order down to a 'T', so I was all for a lil' rule breakin'."

     Jazz always hated to be ordered around, which was part of the reason why he didn't mind being on his own. He didn't have to be commanded about, told when to do what and how to do it. For that he was thankful. But he was still a social creature and the time he had spent alone after all that had happened? The only thing that kept him from being so damaged was his ability to adapt and not hold onto things. The beauty of being able to brush things off your shoulder instead of festering...

     "I did what any self-respectin' Autobot would do. Fixed what I could, dealt with what I couldn't and took out Decepticon strongholds and sabotaged ships where I could along the way... or at least did enough damage to leave an impression and earn some not so friendly names from'em. Nothin' someone else wouldn't have done." Not that Jazz felt guilty about it, either. He only wished he could have destroyed everything of the cons that he came across but he knew better. He was just proud of what he did manage to take out.

     Optimus may have been around to see it, or Jazz may have not been there to accomplish what he had should the events of the Exodus not happened the way they did. While Jazz had done a significant amount during his travels he knew it hadn't done a thing to tilt anything in their favor- maybe slow down trackers or stop Decepticons from meeting the Nemesis here, but who really knew. It should have been been enough of a relief to at least Didn't do anything for the survivors guilt he had lingering in the back of his processor, rearing its ugly head every so often and reminding him of what was. That was something he would always blame himself for. He just had to learn from it and ensure it never happened again.

     Once more Jazz found himself laying down in his previous spot, digits folded together behind his helm as he stared upwards. Somewhere beyond the clouds, far, far away, was their home. What was it like now? Jazz hadn't been there since it had gone dark. Were there others left behind? One day he would find his way back if just to see, but, as the free spirit he was? He probably wouldn't stay for long. Heck, being stuck in a single location on Earth was bothersome enough for him, but travel was limited given the issue of starvation and thin rations they found themselves facing. 

     "... It's just good'ta see that ya still function, ol' friend. No matter how ya may have changed, ya still got that same kind air about ya that ya did when we first met. You've... grown up, so to speak... and there ain't no shame in that. Just wish it hadn't been so rocky for ya."

     Though Jazz hadn't been around to see first-hand what Optimus endured each and every day, he knew the weight carried on his shoulders just for having the title of Prime. Going from how he knew him as Orion to the now Optimus? It allowed him to see the turn-around on what would have been overnight just because of the time that had passed between them. If it had been more gradual maybe it wouldn't have shocked him so much when he really shouldn't have been.

     "At least ya made it off of Cybertron. That's what the team and I were mainly concerned with. One day I'll get back to Cybertron and tell'em that ya made it. That'll make 'em happy."

[Optimus Prime]

With how far outside the lines Jazz liked to color, it was somewhat a miracle he got as far as he did inside of the Elite Guard under Sentinels' rule. Typically individuals that stepped out of line and made their own rules were punished thusly, but Optimus supposed the need for bodies to fill the rank, and Jazz's other notable skills and talents smoothed over the rebellious ways, though it didn't make it any less frustrating to find him openly admit it so readily. He didn't really want another Wheeljack to contend with, though the lines between them were vast and such a comparison was unjust.

Optimus listened quietly while Jazz spoke, taking in what he was saying, and the way in which he was stating it. It appeared as if the other Cybertronian was downplaying his accomplishments, which could be taken either as an act of humility or an act to hide talents better in order to not get as much of a red target painted on his back. This was probably an act of futility though, for Optimus would be willing to wager that there were more than just a few Decepticons that did not favor the spy's name.

Another shift, another fidgeting movement, Jazz had meandered back to his side, and eased down against the compacted earth and stone. Gravel crackled beneath his armor, some long dried shrubbery snapping as he found his place once more. The Prime simply stared ahead of himself, not looking over at the Cybertronian who couldn't seem to stay stationary. In contrast, Optimus appeared like a statue, inert.

"I am pleased to see you are functional as well Jazz. I feared you were lost."

An honest statement. Even though his low voice had tones of exhaustion and wear laced between the words, and his phrasing didn't hold much oomph, the statement he said still rang true with no forced pleasantries. He was not saying what he had because it was polite, he did so because he truly felt it. The words then shifted though, and the Prime's optics closed a bit while he spoke.

"I sent a broadcast on all channels upon my arrival, guiding the way for lost individuals. I am sure they are aware of my continued existence."

It was somewhat saddening that so many looked up to him so highly that his mere arrival at a new location could bring happiness on such levels. If it was Jazz alone who was concerned and hinged so much on it, that would be acceptable. They have known each other a very long time, and they have crossed some hurdles during war. It would be odd if they did not worry for one another's wellbeing on some level. However, hearing that others of a distant team were so concerned about his safe arrival, just brought the truth back to the forefront of his processor just how valuable his survival was.

He was a powerful fighter, he had knowledge passed through multiple lifetimes, and he had a presence that was more icon than mere individual... he was someone that the Autobots looked up to as an entity that was bigger than reality. If he were to perish, if he were to make one mistake and fall in battle, then so much would be lost, and Optimus questioned how well they would recover.

It would be presumptuous and near arrogant to think the team could collapse, but... he saw their personalities, he knew how rocky and unstable their foundations could be. While some members of the team wove together tightly and would survive, others would clash and cause unrest. Who would step up to lead in his absence? Who would be looked up to enough to make those hard calls? It was a sizable chunk of the weight he carried on his shoulders on a day to day basis, and it now felt even heavier in these few moments.

Not letting himself fall to this unseen pressure, Optimus' stance remained proper and assured, his shoulders squared off and helm high, even if his eyes were closed.

Sensing that Jazz may fidget more, he spoke again.

"Rest, Jazz. There is little to be anxious of here."

[Jazz]

     Jazz was never one to sit still. Meetings were the worst for him, as he commonly would be moving around in his seat or impatiently tapping. Being forced to not move was the most uncomfortable thing for him, even when able to focus on something as beautiful as Earth. Blasting his music would have helped, but bothering Optimus with such loud things wouldn’t be relaxing for his old friend.

     “Sorry. Habit.”

     Jazz looked above, trying to focus on something there. His visor was actively scanning, trying to locate home. Cybertron. Somewhere beyond what could be seen was their home planet, rotating in its own gravitational field as a dead mass- space debris to those who didn’t call it home. It was nothing compared to its Golden days, but it was still a beautiful sight to those who knew it then. Even if it were bittersweet.

     “It helped knowin’ that the Ark had launched successfully. Meant that ya and the crew had at least gotten that far.”

     Silence. Now that was a strange thing coming from Jazz. He wasn’t fidgeting anymore; part of that was because of having something to focus his attention on. Mentally, at least. The mentioning of the broadcast had caused him to flinch some, though he hadn’t addressed when Optimus had brought it up.

     “I got it, that’s how I found the coordinates to this planet. As for the others?” Jazz vented softly. It was just a noise, though there was a heaviness with it that spilled over. “Where they’re at, they ain’t ever gonna get it. Unless the dead are somehow tapped into our comm lines, and then that’d be a lil’ too freaky for me, thanks.” While the comment had been meant as a joke, the tone that came with it made it fall flat. Jazz sat up, slower this time, just so he could sit with his legs crossed and his servos on his knees. “Optimus… look. While I appreciate the rekindlin’ of our friendship an’ all? There’s… somethin’ I oughta tell ya before we get too comfortable. See.. we were supposed to be on the Ark with ya, but... I’m the reason we didn’t make it to the rendezvous.”

     Jazz didn’t bother looking at Optimus, knowing that he’d probably lose his nerve if he had to. So he just forced another heavy passage of air through his vents before he continued.

     “Our orders came down for our team to provide assistance to you on the Ark. We were informed that the usual route was overrun with enemy forces so our field leader took us on an alternate. I was supposed to scout ahead for trouble and keep an optic out for signs of it and I just… I didn’t see ‘em. Instead of goin’ around the Cons, we were met with them head on, straight into an ambush. The opposition outnumbered us at least six to one… and those were the ones that we were able to count…” Jazz took a moment to pause and he tilted his helm slightly to the side as his visor dimmed, as though subconsciously trying to rid himself of whatever phantom voices and images he had. “I shouldn’t be here, honestly. Partner took the hit that shoulda been mine.” He clenched his left shoulder where the damage he still refused to have repaired was. “I defied orders of my commanding officer and left my post to assist another… who turned out to be a infiltrator within the team. Everythin' had been a set up. The team didn’t make it, but they sure as hell went down fightin’."

     "If I had stayed at my post and listened, maybe things would have turned out differently… maybe not. Fact still stands that my act of defiance resultin' in the death of my team is to be taken under consideration as a war crime.”

[Optimus Prime]

While Jazz stared off into the sky looking for home and what had become of it, thinking of its turmoil and death, Optimus was looking at what lay before them now. The planet they were on, how modest it was, the meager life forms that were so oblivious to the greater world beyond their planet's surface. It was quaint in a way, detaching. While so many planets had their own species and cultures and beliefs... How so many built technology differently to fuel whatever unique need their kind may require... eventually? When connections are made to other planets and cultures, things bled together.

Neutral planets that welcomed others as a space port or hub, tended to lose some of their own fingerprint in the grand scheme of things. They became amalgamations of everything else. Melting pots where what was once unique and special, bled together and was influenced by others progress that may be a bit further along than them. Other planets that learned from outside sources but didn't welcome as many so openly, eventually also leached external influence. Earth? It was so separate, though... already Cybertronian influence courses through their sciences due to what has been stolen from them...

It was silent here, save for the other Cybertronian, a breeze sliding through the rocks and shallow valleys, causing the Joshua trees to rustle slightly in the process. Optimus wished that Jazz could see things through his eyes for this moment, to think beyond material events or mishaps, and focus simply on the fact that their paths had finally crossed once again. Alas, there were grievances, feeling a need to clear the air it seemed.

Optimus' gaze remained settled ahead of him, his expression dulled and flat, staring into the long expanse. While he did not readily look over yet at the onset of Jazz's words, he was listening intently, taking in everything that was said with care and consideration. It was only when the story started to come to a close, and the gravity of what had occurred was revealed, that he turned to peer in his direction, not with an accusatory glare, but with calm understanding.

"There are many things in life we do not plan for. Some call them mistakes; others deem them failure, looking solely upon surface value alone. Others that believe in greater powers blame it upon fate or Primus' will."

Primus, that was such a hollow subject. Religion was an unstable topic for many before the war was even a thing on the horizon. Many did not believe in such higher powers, while others adamantly accepted it as fast and tried to enlighten others. After the war went into full swing, much of those beliefs were set aside, or quietly done in a Cybertronian's personal downtime segregated from others. It was so hard to believe there was a greater deity, when so much evil clouds the air.

"I cannot say what is real, and what is illusion, but what I can understand is the difference between an act done with ill intent, and one out of ignorance."

Would Jazz have done what he did if he had known a few more pieces of the puzzle? It was fair to guess he would not have if his tone and phrasing had anything to say about it.

"We are all guilty of war crimes in one way or another. We can only pick up the pieces, and learn from our mistakes.-"

While Optimus had spoken before with his recognizable baritone that radiated guidance and power for others to lean upon, these later words seemed to fade out a bit. They grew more gentle, soft, feeding off of his own experiences and regrets, adding depth to the statement and showing that it was not only Jazz who had his own regrets after so many years. To pair with this tone shift, his right hand pulled away from where it had sat at rest, lifting to gently place down upon the smaller Cybertronian's shoulder.

Reassurance. He was not sidestepping the situation like he tried to sidestep topics before. He felt uncomfortable speaking about his own issues, but was more than capable to help others when they share things that trouble them.

"-But we cannot safeguard those who remain, nor build our future, if we focus on our past."

[Jazz]

     "Primus? Oh! The guy with the twisted sense of humor."

     Jazz huffed slightly after the sarcasm. He hadn't forgotten about the words he had heard through the different classes, with great separation on whether or not the beliefs were of fact or simply a way to find comfort in the chaos around them. From what he heard it was always one or the other- either they felt that Primus had a set path for all of them and they would find their 'true destiny', or that Primus didn't exist for the sheer fact that no 'creator' would have such a sick sense of humor. It was never something Jazz really partook in himself but rather for the benefit of the doubt that there was no way someone could be so... sick. Considering the things he had seen, it was their own nature and willpower that drove them rather than the guiding hand of some unseen force.

     The feel of the hand on his shoulder caused him to look at it then up to Optimus. Being in this situation, swapping stories, knowledge and intellect between them without others to bother them? For a split moment he was staring into the optics of Orion. They were home again, safe from the outside world and the dangers it offered them. Orion, innocent and without the stains of blood on his servos- naive to what awaited him beyond the doors of his Library...

     A flicker of his visor and the image was gone, replaced by the battle-scarred reality before him. His frame returned to normal and doorwings relaxed, having become rigid in a moment of excitement in what he had seen. He turned his helm away and looked instead at what was before him, hoping that Optimus hadn't seen those few seconds of what he could only describe as an out-of-body experience.

     "I also ain't made of glass so talkin' about the past ain't gonna break me. Sure, I feel guilty about some things I've done, but I ain't got the energy to think about my choices and what takin' this or that route may have done for me in the now." He chuckled. "I don't really deal with the future either, OP. I find no point in wastin' time plannin' for somethin' that may or may not come. Gotta live for the day ya wake up to and handle the moment ya got. Been around too long and lost enough in my days ta know it could be snuffed out any time."

     "It's kinda weird, ya know? I've managed to pull things off that shoulda been the end of my functionin', and yet here I am, sittin' with ya again after all this time. Kinda makes me wonder if that whole 'you're meant for somethin' more' mumbo-jumbo they preached on Cybertron has any realness behind it."

[Optimus Prime]

Optimus caught on to the shift in Jazz's body language. The moment of disassociation, a moment of something being wrong... the Prime did not know what thoughts coursed through the white and blue mech's processor, but he felt confident in assuming his touch had triggered it. Without a word to regard it, his hand pulled back almost awkwardly, the reassurance not holding a favorable result like he had hoped. Because of this, his limb settled back down to his side, mirroring the other that lay at rest among the brush and brittle gold grasses.

Jazz was... looping in circles, and Optimus was not blind to what was happening. It screamed of reaching out for help, yet when some assistance was offered, the hand was pushed away under the guise of not being made of glass, and being above such troubled moments. Despite said claims, Jazz continued to edge to events long gone, and reference soldiers that were deceased. It did not go above Optimus that he had said he would go back to tell the others what had happened... when said others were no more. His old friend was carrying demons, that much was obvious, and a more blunt approach would be needed to cut through the thick shell that seemed to be in play.

"You contradict yourself."

Assertive, cutting in a bit more abruptly once Jazz had finished speaking.

"You claim you have no time to look back, yet speak nothing but the past, and divulge distant affronts to seek closure."

This looping circle of denial seemed pretty obvious, perhaps because it is what Optimus did himself. The only difference however, was the fact that Optimus did not reach out to others for assistance, while Jazz was jumping from topic to topic in wild thrashes to fill a void and seek an unknown result. It made pinning down the conversation difficult, especially when it shifted the moment Optimus reached out to try to touch on what was said.

"If you do not hope for the future, I question your motives for the war."

It would be such an easy route for an individual to escape this war, and seek haven upon a Neutral planet. Carve out a little life in the few places that still allowed Cybertronian kind, and live day by day seeking momentary joys and pleasures, without needing to aim for a broader goal for the greater population. Communicate with other species on distant worlds that do not root around in the dirt with primitive technologies like the humans did on Earth.

"Jazz... what are you trying to accomplish here...?"

Optimus was not always the most polite of individuals at times. He was always willing to help, always willing to offer a hand to others, and had patience that could stretch for miles at a time, but there were some limitations. He did not enjoy being taken on looping rides in circles, and he did not enjoy senseless filler or games. As the children found out, he could be rather abrupt and rude to instantly cut off any senseless distractions. This fact alone, mixed with his thinned tolerance and exhaustion, made this question come out a bit jaded, nearly demanding in its own way.

The Prime was trying to offer Jazz an opportunity to tell him what was TRULY on his mind, and not another shell of an excuse. To be honest, Optimus rather anticipated another reply that brushed off his concerns. Something to sidestep the issue, something to paint him as being too serious or ruining a moment he did not even understand. He was not grasping what Jazz was trying to get at here, and in a way his presence and the mystery behind his motives was bringing up more tension for him.

Jazz was someone from his past, and had not seen him adapt into who he was now. It was... straining... knowing in some ways how Jazz wanted him to answer, but knowing full well that isn't who he is any longer.

[Jazz]

     There was a flash of a smirk that played on Jazz's lips and it lingered there after listening to Optimus's words. He knew that his old friend would have his game figured out quickly- he never was one for words that were spoke one way yet had a very different meaning behind it. It never did change the game that he played, though... that was just how he was hardwired.

     "I don't seek answers to my problems in the past. Really, the only thing I just can't seem to shake is what happened. Guess my drive to find ya was just fueled with the hopes that bein' in ya company would somehow lift that guilt... seems to have done the complete opposite. Not that it's any fault of yours. I was gonna need to face these demons eventually."

     A flicker of his visor came as he accessed his memory core. It was something that he didn't want to look back on but he knew that he had to. That one took some time to pull out from the dark recesses that he hadn't picked at for a long enough time that it had been well buried- though in his subconscious it raged like a temperamental child who stomped their foot and demanded attention.

     "My comm links were knocked out in the ambush, as well as a lot of my framework. I did what I could as field patches but... ya know I ain't no medic. Managed to get a ship and get off Cybertron but without knowin' your fate or that of the Ark and not havin' a command to return to, I was really alone for the first time in my life. Managed my way to a neutral planet and they patched me up real good- with what they had at their disposal, of course. Fed me, made sure I was able to function on my own and sent me on my way. Most of what I accomplished after that? Benefits to the Autobots, yeah, but it was just out of my own drive to find the one who had betrayed my team. Hatred, anger, revenge... sound familiar?" Jazz side-glanced Optimus with a pointed expression without needing to have optics to make it known. He didn't even dare to mention the designation of the Decepticon leader, figuring that the tone he used was enough to hint to just who he was talking about at that moment. He looked back up at the sky.

     "I found him, a Captain of his own little scurvy crew. I let them capture me- just to make sure I could get close enough. Once their guards were down..." Another trail off, a deep vent, then Jazz's visor dimmed. "He begged, pleaded to be spared, groveled on his knees... and I didn't even hesitate to pull that trigger. Here I thought in the time since I joined up with the Autobots that I'd been able to know more forgiveness, but as the humans say- a tiger can't change his stripes.Thought I'd learned to be someone else, and the moment that I was given the chance to really test myself? I reverted back, and I can never forgive that. I let myself down, but I also let you and the bots down cause I forgot the things we all stand for. "

     Jazz's visor brightened as he stopped accessing his memory core. That was enough of that for today. It had been painful enough to have to rewatch what he remembered of it- having to speak of it was just another twist of his nerves that he didn't care to deal with. He also couldn't take it to look at Optimus so he just kept staring ahead to avoid it.

     "... As for me? Well, I'm gonna protect ya and the rest of the team and this new home of ours with the same pledge I took when I became a guard- at the cost of my spark if that's what's expected of me. This world doesn't deserve to fall to the fate that Cybertron did. The humans didn't asked to be dragged into our bickerin'. And the youngsparks outta know what it's like to not have be hungry or worry if they ain't gonna come back from the mission. I wanna see that day for'em, but it ain't meant to be then that's that. If there's no more fight left in me, I ask ya, as a friend, that ya let Primus determine my fate."

     Jazz figured that Optimus would have something to say about that, so instead of letting that be the last of it and giving him the opportunity, he raised his servo with the palm out to stop him and shook his helm. He didn't want to hear anything else of it, and quickly changed the subject so he didn't have to muse on it further.

     "I look at ya and I can see the change in ya from night to day. You're an idol- somethin' good in this war with a vision worth standin' behind, but it's not just cause of that Matrix ya got. It's got a lot to do with you just bein' you. Before ya came along I didn't think there was any other choice but ta be a con if ya didn't agree with how things were. It's a tough burden to carry on your shoulders and I can only imagine what ya go through with it, feelin' that you're always bein' tested, pushed to your limit, left to question your actions at every turn. It takes a strong mech to handle that, and I couldn't think of a better one than you. Ya just gotta learn to trust your team- openin' up to 'em ain't gonna change how they see ya. Keepin' it all in is gonna break ya down faster than cosmic rust, OP, and ya got enough to think about. Let the others be your support sometimes. It ain't fun to be alone in your thoughts."

[Optimus Prime]

If Jazz truly wanted to corner him, and make him respond only to the end of his small speech, than he would need to not preface it with so much more that demanded his attention instead. It was trying to redirect Optimus from a path, when he had absolutely no intention of being deviated. As crass as it may sound, he did not care about the lecture Jazz was trying to apply to him, as it was one he had heard countless times before. Sometimes from soldiers that were trying to be helpful and reach out to offer assistance or an ear, but more often than not by those that had known him far longer than that and could sense the weight he carried on his shoulders.

Optimus would not be turned away, and as such, focused only on what was said previously, ignoring the last chunk entirely with no remorse, to focus on the execution Jazz had admitted to, and the comparison made to the Warlord.

The situation with Megatron was a complex one, and ran deeper than superficial words such as 'hatred' and 'revenge' could even hope to convey. The story and how the conflict formed, created multiple fractures of an arduous course to paint the Warlord with varied shades of sorrow and fury. The Prime resented him a great deal, that was not anything that could be argued, but it was not a black and white viewpoint that could be resolved with closure with a blade through his tainted spark.

Optimus had multiple opportunities in which he could have run the silver mech through. End his life, end his terror. Cut down the beast that left destruction and anguish in his wake. But... something always came up, something always deterred. He could not say what exactly stayed his hand, for in combat he fought with all the zeal he could muster to try to end the monster's reign. Think of all the lives he has ruined, think of all those who died because of his careless abandon. Think of the decay that curls in his shadow to choke out and oppress like those they had once banded together to try to overthrow... yet he stopped when a true opportunity occurred, and the Warlord was downed for even the briefest of moments.

Behead him. Run him through. Crush his helm beneath a ped...

Nothing ever happened.

Jazz failed to find the same sort of mercy and stayed hand, that Optimus offered out to the undeserving. Could he blame him...? Not really. As much as the Prime preached to not kill unless absolutely necessary for survival, he knew it was a futile endeavor to even try to recognize as law. So many of his Autobots, so many of them have murdered when there were other ways out, he just, chose to ignore it. If it wasn't reported, he didn't need to face it.

It was that rule he held true, where if you did have to down an individual to reach a goal for a greater good, that you do not boast or claim it a normality no matter how many times it occurs. The second it is accepted otherwise, that is the second that the line between Autobots and Decepticons blurred even further into a murky haze of gray.

"Hatred is a powerful motivator. It fuels reactions; it burns over thought and consideration. It is clear, unwavering, but for all of its power, for all it can do, it has yet to solve a single problem and leaves only destruction behind."

Their world was the ultimate example of this. So much carnage, so much Energon lost, all in the name of hatred upon a faction that clashed with another's ideals. It rotted and festered as a wasteland, the golden cities, and the stunning architecture... the industrial zones that held beauty beyond the rust and dirt that hazed the air. All of it was now painted in gray, bringing everything to the same level.

"A tiger cannot change its stripes, but pain and fear can make the most noble of creatures chew away its own limb to escape."

Optimus glanced over at Jazz when he said this, his expression tired.

"You executed an individual, yet, they would likely have done the same if your roles were reversed. There is no gratification that can be found from said vengeance, you already know this. A lesson learned through experience, instead of another's teaching."

Find an individual that had not learned a lesson in war this way, and you more likely than not were looking upon a liar. They have all done horrible things; the difference was just how they carried the burden of their sins after the fact.

"The backlash you feel may be harbored the rest of your life. But it is something to look upon and remember when you are faced with such a situation once more. Do not let it consume, let it guide."