I wrote this as a present for Femme4prime as an addition to her points of view verse, other additions can be seen at her 'sockets' account on this site.

Jazz groaned, visor flickering on dimly as he stared blearily at the ceiling. Primus, everything HURT. Pit, even the quiet noise of the... was that a spark monitor?... slowly beeping away from somewhere above his helm was sending little pangs through his processor, even with the fuzzy overlay that heralded one of Ratchets pain killers. His overly sensitive audios making the machine sound like someone was slamming tools together just to spite him for his processor ache.

Wincing slightly under the optical supplement that was his visor, his own optics never being quite up to par, he turned his head and tried to find where the monitor was attached. Determined to quiet the damned box so he could go back into recharge. Finally giving up when the motion bloomed stars in his visual field.

What in the pit had happened, he thought to himself, it's been a very long time since I've managed to overcharge enough to get a hangover. Offlining his visor again and huffing unhappily through his vents, Jazz began rifling through his recent memory files, hoping to find any indication as to why he was so achy.

Finding only partial files of the days before the Mission City battle, and some really weird dreams involving what looked like a card game and a whole bunch of little organics, the saboteur began to feel his worry rising. The speed of the blips coming from the monitor increasing slightly as he reviewed the horribly degraded pieces of memory.

What worried him most was the very latest time-stamped file he could find, locked and sealed behind one of Ratchets medical firewalls. Curious as to why the medic would go to such lengths to prevent him viewing whatever it was, he extended a mental hand. Probing and picking at the edges of the barrier and searching for the metaphorical 'loose thread'.

Processor ache forgotten for now he grinned, nearly exclaiming in triumph as he found the weakest part of the code and began slowly picking it apart. The firewall literally being ripped to pieces in a matter of seconds with barely any effort at all. Years of experience made it almost as easy as venting, almost too easy in the silver mech's honest opinion.

He stopped, watching as the last bit of protective code disapeared, wondering why Ratchet even bothered to block the file with such a low-level piece of coding. Honestly, he mused, the medic would have realized that it wouldn't have lasted long with Jazz level of expertise. Even with the sedative and processor ache he was quite capable of doing his job, though the same couldn't be said for all mechs, but Ratchet should realize this yeah?

Jazz shrugged, liking his little bit of logic twisting, and made to open the file. Hey, if Ratchet didn't want him to see it he would have sealed it better.

The next few seconds passed in silence, the saboteur avidly watching as the Mission City battle played out in his mind. Cheering on his companions and wincing at appropriate moments, absently wondering what had happened to the little drones created when that Sam kid had dropped the Allspark as he watched himself scale the building to chase Megatron.

It was this point that things started to go downhill, his processor locking him into the last few minutes of the file. Sensations and thoughts from those last moments rushed freely through his mind as he relived his one-on-one combat with Megatron. Everything else in the room fading out when the tyrant wrapped his hands around his legs and torso and PULLED.

Phantom pain bloomed hot from his abdomen, cables and metal feeling as if they were stretching to their limit as the memory-Megatron ripped him in half. Screaming and arching sharply off the berth as he lashed out before the image dissolved into blinding light and he slumped.

Audio returning, he heard the telltale pounding of the medics pedes as he ran to his side. The spark monitor was almost a constant whine as he panted and clung to the side of the berth. The little sun in his chest slowly calmed down from its frantic pace as Ratchet finally skid to a stop next to his berth, the medic talking quickly to himself as he re-adjusted the energon feed attached to the silver mech's arm.

"Hi Ratchet" Jazz croaked, vocaliser not really feeling like co-operating quite yet as he activated his visor again. Nearly laughing when the chartreuse medic startled and nearly dropped whatever pointy tool he was about to use.

"You, are not supposed to be online for another Earth week." Ratchet scolded, tapping the tool gently against Jazz's shoulder. "And what have I told you about telling me when you're conscious?"

Jazz shrugged, giving the medic a sheepish look as he struggled to sit up. Ratchet placing a large hand behind his back to aid him as he shuffled the energon transfusion and monitor lines so they wouldn't get tangled.

"So you saw the file?" he asked, reaching a hand for the smaller mech's diagnostic port and plugging himself in to check for any processor damage now the Jazz was awake.

~Yeah~ Jazz replied over the link, running a hand over the jagged weld line on his chest and wincing ~So th' kid got away? Where'd ya get all this equipment anyway?~ he sounded confused ~did'ya manage t' get us back t' the ark or somethin'? 't sure doesn' feel like we're in space again.~

Ratchet sighed, transforming a slender tool from his hand and probing it into Jazz's vocaliser "You were... out... for a very long time Jazz. This is probably not the best thing to discuss until you've managed to work the rest of the sedative out of your systems. Prime is still in recharge anyway."

As the probe was withdrawn, Jazz sent a burst of static through his vocaliser. Similar enough to a human cough to be mistaken as one, and serving a similar purpose save for the fact he was clearing 'signals' instead of a blockage.

"Right... but ah expect 'n' answer soon" he teased, still a little wobbly as he lay back down.

"Oh quiet you" Ratchet thwacked Jazz good-naturedly on the shoulder and disconnected the sedative line as it was obviously not doing much to keep the saboteur in recharge. Chuckling as Jazz cycled back down and relaxed against the berth before opening a comm.

/Prowl. He's awake./