mayfield_rpg | 3rd Beat

Entry tags:

3rd Beat

[Phone - accidentally open to all, meant for Dr. Ilsa Higa. Backdated to an hour or two after this.]

[When his voice comes over the line, anyone who'd spoken with Jazz in the month since he's been here will be able to hear the almost-hysterical, wrecked tone that's become of his normally dulcet voice. He's barely keeping himself under control and can barely seem to keep from hyperventilating, and if the phone sounds like it's rattling, it may or may not be because he's unable to stop shaking.]

Dr. Higa, I-I...I...h-...hhhow predictable is it f-...for people t'come back from the...[His voice cuts off and for a long time, the only sound that comes over the other line is ragged gasps. He comes back only to make an abrupt change of subject, putting a bit more strength in his voice then he had before.] W-w-would you be able t'write me up some sorta reference on all th'weak points on a human body? L-like places t'be careful of if I'm tryin' t'restrain someone. My martial arts trainin' only taught me about my own species bodies an' humans are a lot weaker'n I don' know what's diff'rent an' what might hurt 'em if I do it wrong 'cause it's diff'rent an' I don' wanna kill anyone 'cause I put too much pressure or twisted wrong or-or-or...!!!

[Which is where his voice finally reaches the panicked, horrified keen it had been threatening at the entire time and he simply dissolves into sobs. The phone makes a bit of a thunk sound when his head hits the kitchen table, curled up in his seat, feeling like he's going to be sick, like his entire body is numb, like he's tearing apart from the inside out and he doesn't know how to stop it.]

[Action - Hours later]

[He hasn't left the house since he got home. He's barely spent time away from the make-shift bedroom they'd set up in their garage. Things were too hard to think about at this point, hurt too much to process, and yet it was all he could do, curled up under the covers on their sleeper-sofa in a tight little ball, hugging Prowl's pillow like it is Prowl. It's only by the grace of the no-family-in-the-garage they've put on the drone families in their houses that he's had any peace, and Thank Primus that the drones actually listen to little things like that, like they really are the "man of the house." The wife would come from time to time, knock on the door and ask if he was coming in for dinner, but when he gave no answer, would simply flutter off to do whatever pre-programmed thing she'd been set up to do.

Which is just as well. He doesn't have the strength right now to throw her out. He doesn't even have the strength to even care right now. Physically he's fine. He's had enough experience with shell shock, has suffered it enough and remembers the distinct hurt it caused, to know that's what this is. And he just doesn't care. Just when he thinks he's cried himself out, some image will cross his processor and he'll burrow his head into the pillow as it starts all over again.

It does hardly any good, knowing he's supposed to be coming back any time now. The deaths he's known have all been permanent. He's been fighting a war for millions of years. After that much death, you don't simply lose the emotional reaction it causes in you simply because someone tells you "it's not real." Not when you did it with your own hands]

((ooc: Action and Phone tags to the phone call are welcome. Action tag to Jazz-in-the-garage is reserved for Prowl's mun.))

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Uh...what?

[Don't mind him. He's not quite coherent enough to respond at the moment. You just get the sound of him sobbing.]

Did someone die over there? Are you getting victimized by something? If you are, scream, if you aren't...do nothing.

[Oh. Oh, that panic. And the apparent source of it. That's something that she has a passing familiarity with.]

Shh. Deep breath. Hold it in for a moment. Then let it out slowly. Slowly. It's alright...

[The voice is soft, kind, and synthesized-sounding.]

[Some part of him tries to follow the instructions. His body fights it, though, and about the time he'll start to breath in, he'll come up short of breath all over again. He shakes his head at what she says, as if she can see it. She probably hears the phone rattling against the table, though.]

nononoNo No No No, it's not alright! [He doesn't care if he sounds like he's whining or throwing the comfort back in her face. It's not what he intended, but if he'd been more stable, he would have been angry at himself for the tone.] 'S never ok, this is not. ok. Didn' wanna hurt 'im, I never wan'ed t'hurt 'im!

[Providing comfort is usually not a matter of saying a few words. It's never easy, in her experience. But she's still willing to try. He needs it so very badly.]

Of course you didn't. You never would. It was only an accident. And only because of this town. It's sad... it's very sad. But he'll get better. He'll be back. He'll be alright. And so will you. Breathe. Please... breathe.

[The reassurance that he'll be back and he'll be ok makes him keen softly. People just don't come back from the dead! Frag this city!]

But what if he doesn't come back??? People're goin' missing! I can't...I don't know...I dunno what I'll do if he doesn't!

[He doesn't even seem to care that he's baring it all for a strange inorganic female over the phones. Prowl's always been the one he turned to when things got hard. It just makes this that much harder to be able to cope with.]

Even when they go missing, they come back. They... they do. [Which is something that she, herself, needed to be reminded of.]

It's hard when someone you expect to be there isn't there. I know. It's terrible. But this friend of yours will be back. He will be. I know it. You have to be strong for him, until then.

[...and she really hoped that she was right. That his friend would be back, and that it would be alright. That Mayfield wouldn't prove her wrong.]

[When Prowls head had finally cleared he had found himself able to think fully and clearly again, for the first time since hearing that Jazz supposedly dies in the future. Well Prowl is a logical man, the future is created from a stream of occurrences, so they should be able to change that outcome just by changing one thing in the stream. With logic reasserted he knew his first objective was to find Jazz.

He had figured the other man would be in his garage/bedroom of his 'home'. When he arrived at the house he informed the drone 'wife' that he was here to see Jazz, and was a little set off when she mentioned him not coming out of the garage for much and didn't argue in the least, letting him in and nodding to the appropriate door. He knocked once, not waiting for an answer before opening the door and slipping inside.]

Jazz?

[He whined when he heard the knock on the door, at one time burying his face a little deeper into the pillow as if to hide and feeling a spike of irritation lance through him at the sound of the door opening immediately after. No, he didn't want to deal with this right now! Not ever again.]

I toldja, I don' wan-...!

[The sound of Prowl's voice made his breath stop and his blood run cold. He half-uncurled from where he lay, looking back over the arm of the couch and spying him standing there. It made that breathless feeling he'd only recently managed to stave off return with a vengeance, and had he not had so much experience with shock in the past, the pain and stress he felt returning would have confused him.]

Prowl...?

[Psychosomatic responses caused by stress, the desire to avoid anything that would force the sufferer to relive the events that had caus-no, part of him lashed out at the other, knowing why he felt it didn't make it any less real or less upsetting, and he gave a choked sob. This was Prowl, Prowl was back and his processor was telling him to hide, to get away, and in his half-glitched state, all he could reason it into was the horrible guilt he felt and the irrational fear that his lover, his bonded, would blame him for what had happened.]

Prowl! I'm so sorry, I didn't meanta, I swear, y'gotta believe me, please, I'm so sorry!

[The stress came crashing back, all the pain he'd felt hours ago when he felt that horrifying crack and felt his bonded's body go limp, the horror of what he'd done, and his body shook uncontrollably as he tried to scramble out of the bed. His muscles ached from being clenched into such a small configuration for so many hours, but he ignored it, reaching out for him even as his vision blurred with tears and sobs echoed off the barren walls. He was still wearing the clothes he'd had on before, now stained with blood, Prowl's blood, hadn't even bothered to tend to the gash on his face. He was a mess.]

Prowl, please, I'm so sorry!

[Prowl moved over to his bonded, moving as fast as he dared while trying to avoid triggering a fear response from Jazz. He knew there would be a risk of triggering his mate for a time, by simply approaching too fast, or moving in a way that could be seen as similar to the way he had under the influence of the drug. He sat down beside his lover and wrapped and arm around his shoulders, pulling him close and trying to angle him so that Jazz could hide in his shoulder.

He knew he would need to get his bonded cleaned up and try to get some food in him, and then get them both laid down where he could cuddle his lover until this passed. Despite that he didn't want to rush Jazz and that stuff could be done soon enough, for now they could sit and cuddle despite the mess and he could reassure his bonded that everything was going to be alright.]

Shhhh It's alright Jazz, shhhh. I understand, I know you didn't, you tried very hard to keep that from happening, or worse, to keep me from killing you.

[And he really would have, he knew it. Even now after dying and being brought back to be droned for a time he knew that with that drug in his system he would have killed Jazz possibly without even hesitating.]

I don't know that I would have made it through if I had done that, and while I don't wish for this to ever happen again, I would rather you kill me first, then I kill you.

[All while he talked he pet his lover, starting from the top of that messy, still somewhat poofy hair, and heading down, rubbing at his neck just a little before continuing to the middle of his back and rubbing circles there. He was also actively nuzzling against his lover, and sending as much of his love as he could over their restricted bond.]

[The moment he felt himself being pulled into the hold, he fell into it completely, clinging to him and hiding his face when Prowl gave him the shoulder to hide against. Even that much, being able to feel him and take comfort in him, made things seem so right, so safe. Prowl was his strength. He'd always been there for him, when he'd had his own bouts with the depression all bots struggled with after so long at war.

Knowing that his bonded was still there, still alive and safe and protective, that he didn't blame him for what had happened, was a wonderful release on his spark. It was going to be ok. Everything was ok, even after the horrible accident that had set the entire ordeal into motion.

That didn't mean he was able to regain control of his emotions, however. Just that the sobs were less terrified, less panicked. It was even harder, now, to regain his composure thanks to the way his human body struggled against itself chemically, the toxic combination of hormones triggered in his brain sustaining the distraught state. That, unfortunately, would take even longer to recover from.

He shook his head, clutching the material of Prowl's shirt and hiding his face in it, pulling him closer and refusing to let him go as his shoulders hitched up, pressing against the comforting hand on his back.]

I didn't wanna hurtcha, I'm so sorry, Prowl, I just wan'ed t'holdja there until you were better, I didn't...I didn't realize...[Just the memory of the sensation of his neck snapping in his grip stole his breath again and threatened to send him back over the edge. He gasped sharply, ragged and hitched and horrified, shaking against him as he keened. Even saying what he'd done was too much.]

I don' wanna hurt you, Prowl, I can't do it! I can't take it! [Because no matter how much strength Prowl thinks he has, no matter how brutal the other bots suspect he can be when he's deep undercover, he's not sure he could make it through that. He's not sure what he would have done if Prowl had never come back.]

[Prowl nuzzled softly against Jazz, kissing against the side of his voluminous hair while he softly began to rock them back and forth. The sound of his lover's pain from the memories alone tore at his spark, and he clutched him closer.]

Shhhh I know, I know.

[He made a mantra of the words rocking and loving on his mate as he gave him tender attention.]

I know you don't, I know it was so hard for you. I know it hurts you... go ahead and let that hurt out. I'm here now, I'll keep you safe.

[He kept his words flowing, not just simple nothings, words with real meanings, but at the same time they were things that could be heard and accepted.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

3rd Beat

phone

phone

Re: phone

Phone

Phone

no subject

no subject

no subject

[Action]

[Action]

[Action]

[Action]

[Action]