Universe: G1 AU
Characters: Jazz, Prowl, Optimus Prime, Smokescreen
Plot: facing his failure, Jazz tries to recompose a puzzle
Notes: always same AU as the six earlier stories. This one is placed right after Walk on lonely roads. And yes it is a reference to the Hamilton song. But hey it's jazz!

"This must be a joke."
Jazz didn't even greet his leader as he entered, just snapping out that sentence that felt like plasma fire in his intake. He was literally digging his claws in the palm of his own servos. He couldn't even keep his smirk in place, letting his raw fury radiate all around him. Hit Optimus like the tidal wave he knew it was.

And Optimus didn't even shift.
"Jazz, sit and try to calm down." he said with that soothing, gentle calm he always gave off. It was infuriating. "I don't know what you are talking about."
Jazz glared, and got closer, but didn't sit. He went forward until he had his servos on the desk and his visor at a mere micron from Optimus' face. It was the only moment he could actually be in that position, though with a bit of struggle, but he was going to use it.

"You promoted Prowl over me! I told you I still had not cleared him from the accuses! He surely worked with the cons!" he snarled, and his words didn't come out smooth like they usually did. But rough and sharp.
Jazz felt like he was being strangled, so it was fair, he guessed. The leader though was completely unaffected. Like a metal wall.
" And proof being? I've waited three vorns for those proofs." he said calmly "I tasked you to find proof to condemn him, but if you find nothing, then we let it go Jazz. Prowl has been helping us since he first stepped in the base."

"But when he tried to flee with Bluestreak, didn't he do that too?" Jazz snapped angrily, his memory flashing to that lil sparkling, whom now was on the way to younglinghood. They almost didn't catch them in time.

"Yes he did, but he found you, Jazz, interrogating his baby brother. He apologized for letting his protective coding take over." the leader said softly, and was just so sure of himself Jazz wanted to scream. There was even accusation in the first sentence. " and anyway he wasn't our prisoner. And was Bluestreak's guardian. He could have done it. "
Jazz frowned deeply, and his claws dug in the desk's surface. It was the only moment where he saw a flash of fear in the blue optics of his leader. Like he just remembered who he truly was. What he was capable of doing.
" You are doing a mistake, Prime." he growled "you know I am never wrong."

"Anyone can be wrong Jazz." Optimus responded but his voice was slightly less firm "could you try? Please, old friend. '
There was a true plea in his voice. Jazz frowned deeply backing off. He had no intention to, but he knew convincing Optimus was impossible now.
" No promises. " was the only comment he could utter, before walking out, not waiting for the leader to dismiss him. He just didn't care now.

- - -

Jazz never sat in his office. His desk was a mess of old stuff there since forever. Data pads he forgot about, old music data chips. As he sat and leaned on his chair for a moment, optics shut. He vented slowly once, twice, thrice. Then he opened his optics.
"Kay. Get to work"  he muttered to himself and took out one of the data pads he held in his drawer.

Designation: Prowl/Pantera
Rank: Chief Tactical Officer

Jazz went to change the entry, and his servo trembled as he added in "Second in Command (temporary) ".
He hoped it would be the case. But he feared it wouldn't. He was running out of time. No, he had probably already ran out of time.
He continued reading. Looking for something he missed. He had to be missing something.

Sparked in: supposedly Praxus, unknown district.
Sure contacts: Smokescreen (former Autobot CTO, brother), Bluestreak (brother), Streetwise (former cop, bodyguard).

He had to give it to Prowl, the organizing method he had convinced Optimus to enforce for reports was functional. Very functional. It would be a delight submitting the proof of his collaboration with the cons in his favorite format.
That would serve him right.

Supposed contacts: Soundwave, Soundwave's cassettes, Megatron.

He frowned deeply. It was all supposed. Now his suppositions would usually be enough, because he'd present them as facts. But now he had as opponent that walking calculator who would take a look and spit out a very convincing statistic. One that yelled the truth Jazz hated: he had no proof.
Numbers were overestimated, Jazz would yell it for the rest of his functioning.
But the mech knew all too much about the Decepticons' actions to be a coincidence. And no one erased all their information that way without working for a long time on it.

Supposed role: Praxus' intelligence head

Of course, Praxus had been a puzzle since he had raised in office. Even earlier, when Highbrow led them. A puzzle scattered through the planet. Their impassive neutral mask had been firmly in place since anyone remembered. But no city kept that position without secret deals. And for a long time they had been able to trace it to some point. Knowing where they stood with the city, if vaguely. Do their own deals.
Then, around two decavorns earlier, everything disappeared. Everything. Silence settled on their channels. The spies never came back. Jazz compiled more MIA forms than any just promoted Spec Ops commander should. They could not even find their frames.

Now the only three survivors of the destruction of a whole city were a ghost and two mechs who either worked with him or were related to him.
It was all so clear. Why couldn't Optimus see it?
But no, until Jazz found literally a recording of the conversation between cons and Prowl, he had no hope of getting him arrested.
Jazz could get him murdered, but Optimus knew how he was. This time he had not his leader's silent cooperation. He'd be convicted for murdering the best tactician they had, the mech all other Prime's advisors agreed would be the one winning the war for them.
Blind fools. Ultra Magnus would probably have him executed and his department destroyed.
Jazz couldn't do this. He was at an enpasse.
Abruptly getting up, he put the data pad back in his drawer, changing again the code.
He then headed out, looking for the only mech who knew something about Prowl and wasn't a youngling.

- - -

"Hey Smokey, have a moment to chat? '
The red and blue mech spun to face him interrupting his chat with Hot Rod.
Those two were cute. He'd usually comment on it, on how adorable Smokescreen's doorwings were when they fluttered as they cooed over each other like lovebirds. But he was not up for games. Not now.
"Of course." the tactician replied, surprise at his behavior on his face before it became almost grim. He knew why he was there. As they walked away, Jazz led him back to his office. He could have commed, but he didn't trust even his Most secure lines.
Prowl was everywhere. He was sure of it.

"Jazz we already talked about this. My brother was a good cop, too good. He was put under protection with our little brother and I went to Iacon." Smokescreen repeated for the seven hundredth time. The same lie, repeated over and over. Jazz felt his control slip.
He was starting to contemplate some of his more... Persuasive strategies.
" And it's a lie. We both know it. Are you a traitor too, Smokescreen?"
The Praxian snarled softly glaring at him.
'You didn't just call me and my brother traitors, right? " he hissed " especially as you haven't brought me any proof of wrongdoings.'
Jazz frowned, his optics dimming under the visor.
That was always the point.
"And all of this, because you are jealous? Because you are hurt in the pride that you can't find anything about him? Sorry Jazz my brother outsmarts you." the mech continued, and Jazz felt his servos clench as his claws came out. He could strangle Smokescreen. He had to shut up. He had to just be silent.
" What, wanna kill me Jazz? Because you can't handle the truth? Sorry! But I am not going to let you continue this. I am done with you going all around my family. Talking to Bluestreak. He has already enough problems. Go to Rung if you need a safe outlet for frustration. But until you get something solid on Prowl, or on me for what it matters, stay away from us. "
" Smokescreen-"
" No, frag you. "
And then he was up and leaving. Jazz had just reached out to stop him, and could have done it, but the absolute disgust in the Praxian's optics stopped him. He just slumped on his chair, as he was left alone again.
Jazz was just done.

- - -

The mech who had begun it all was standing on the balcony, overlooking Iacon and letting his wings flutter slightly at the wind. Jazz could see it as he approached. He knew Prowl was aware of his presence.
"Just what are you, mech?" he asked quietly, when getting close enough to stand by his side. He didn't like the despaired note in his voice. Optics firm on the mech, not on the scenery.
"I am the Second in Command of the Autobots, Jazz." the mech said calmly "aren't you tired of going after a ghost? You are running in circles and are alone. Can't you see it?"
Jazz's glare sharpened, but the mech was right. He never felt so alone. Even his operatives were talking him out of this. Even Bumblebee. They liked the clean victories the tactician was giving them. The schemes for missions that worked. Operatives who came home unscathed.
They really couldn't see the trap?
"Decepticons destroyed my home." the mech continued "I want to help the Autobots. I did for three vorns, and you oppose me instead of helping me. Who is the traitor here, Jazz?"
"And I should help someone who I do not trust?" he snorted in disbelief. "I know there's proof you did work for the Cons, I am just finding it."
Prowl turned to look at him. He was impassive.
'And while you find it, will you help me? You'll be able to watch me more closely if you do help me leading this army. " he replied, calm and firm. He was using his logic. Jazz hated his logic, but it was compelling.
" Why do I have a feeling you got rid of all proof, even if I got closer? " he sneered. " if not, why propose that to me? "
The mech actually shrugged.
" And if I did erase proof of a crime you have nothing on, sulking like a sparkling won't change it." he responded and turned to leave " mine is a generous offer, Jazz. You are being foolish."
As the mech went toward the entrance, Jazz frowned.
Prowl's logic was going to be his downfall.
" Fine. But I'll vent on your neck cables  at all times. "
The mech looked over his shoulder at him, and a gave him a small smirk.
" I expect no less. "

Author's note.
I love this piece honestly. Probably one of my favorites. Hope you like it as much as I did.