Lies and murders 3

[silberstreif]

Lies and murders

Written for: prowlxjazz the anniversary challenge 2012

Day: 9
Prompt: Doppelganger
Beta: Starfire201 and taralynden (Two heroes who betaed everything despite headaches, storms and lack of time!)

Verse: AU, G1

Rating: PG-13

Words: 22,240 (completed)

Warnings: none

Summary: A deactivated mech is found in an alley and a witness describes Jazz. Though Prowl gives Jazz an alibi. The trouble - he lies.

When Prowl heard about Jazz's arrest, shock was a mild description of what he felt. For a full joor he just sat in his office, staring at the last report, trying to decide the next step. Not only was Jazz under arrest, but Backbeat was dead. He didn't know where or how, but the Enforcer had been murdered and Jazz was being blamed. It made no sense. Why Backbeat, an unremarkable if intelligent Enforcer?

In the end, he used his battle computer to full capacity despite this not being the situation it was commissioned for, but it was more of a default reaction than a conscious decision. Though, it helped to put all the minuscule information and data he had into a pattern and gave him a rough course of action.

With new determination he stood and, against all habits, left his office without finishing his work or sorting the data pads even marginally and ended his shift early. Over the commlines, he sent Optimus a small message, sure that his friend and superior would understand. The long, bright hallways in the Autobot headquarters were still quiet, the mechs working were as bored as always, the only agitation discernible in those who were ending their shift. Good. The arrest hadn't made it into the news channel yet.

As he reached the highway, he sent an official visitation enquiry to the Enforcer headquarters and got back the expected answer:

"Autobot Prowl, at the moment the accused murderer Jazz is not allowed to accept visits due to official protocol. Please come next orn. You're welcome."

But the SIC wasn't on the way to visit Jazz, as much as he wished to be, instead he was driving directly to Iacon's racing track. There, he used his power as Chief of the Security Forces and SIC of the Autobot army to get access to the race track's camera systems. Within astroseconds, he had copied the films and turned to the nervously waiting manager:

"Thank you for your cooperation," he said. "You're very helpful. Did you notice anything strange in Jazz's behaviour?"

"No," answered the bot hastily. "I mean, if he had acted strange I would've never allowed him to race here! He was as always... well, maybe a bit more aggressive, but he seemed frustrated and so I thought nothing of it..." The mech's face crumbled. "Primus, I still can't believe it. Is it really true? Is he really that spark-killer?"

For a long moment, Prowl hesitated, then he shook his head. "I don't believe so."

"You don't?" repeated the manager, relieved. "I don't want to as well, it's just so unbelievable... but you know him better than I. So if you don't... maybe he isn't?"

"I hope so. And you can help me to find out the truth," said Prowl with a voice that he hoped was reassuring. "While Jazz has been filmed many times on track, even he had to have stopped in a garage to chat with friends or for energon a few times. Was it possible that he left the race track unnoticed for five to ten joors during one of those breaks?"

"I don't know..." He seemed in deep thought. "I fear that the answer is yes. We don't exactly keep a fence around the garage and the meeting hall. We only monitor those on the track to check who has paid, to keep it from overcrowding, to avoid fights... well, you know."

"I do."

He had hoped for a different answer, for a good and concrete alibi for Jazz, but it seemed that this avenue was a failure. He added a few other polite words and left the race track, carefully avoiding the arriving news teams who sought out mechs to interview.

Instead he opened a commline, then hesitated. Usually, Backbeat had been his contact to the Enforcers... he decided to terminate his call and drove directly to the Enforcer headquarters. Even if he couldn't see Jazz, maybe he could gather up some new information to help Jazz.

He didn't get far into the building, before he was stopped and led into an elegant office with an expensive organic lightning system and various decorations on the wall. This room belonged to a high-ranking Enforcer who liked to show what he had achieved, but who worked hard as well. In short, an Enforcer who loved his work.

"Prowl, I've expected you," greeted Turnout with a strained smile as he entered. "What can I do for you? I've already seen your request to visit Jazz, but that's not possible at the moment."

"I understand. I will visit Jazz tomorrow." Prowl's tone left no doubt that this was not negotiable. "But I wanted to know what the situation is."

It had been the wrong thing to say. Anger fuelled by pain rushed across the Enforcer's face as he snapped: "The situation? Backbeat is dead and Jazz killed him. That's the situation here and you already know it!"

"Are you so sure that Jazz did it?" asked Prowl, surprised.

"Yes." With fast movements, Turnout reached his desk and called up a databank on the screen. "Look at this, Prowl and dare to tell me that Jazz is innocent!"

At first, it was a normal, empty report, then Prowl saw the name of the file: "Murderer: Jazz," he read slowly and searched for the name of the author. "This is one of Backbeat's reports!"

"Yes." Turnout closed the file again and turned grimly towards the SIC. "Backbeat was attacked while uploading the interview with Optimus and Ironhide. The medics told us that his spark terminated only two klicks after sending this. After sending us the name of his own killer!"

This was worse than he had expected. "Jazz..." murmured Prowl in bewilderment.

"Jazz," confirmed the Enforcer sharply. "Who is the only suspect with the needed skills and more than enough opportunities to get his hands on an energy dagger. We have a witness for Tumbler's murder, who says that he recognized Jazz. He has no alibi for Hosepipe and Backbeat, and a last message of an Enforcer who also claims it was Jazz. An Enforcer, I might add, who was your friend, believed your given alibi and therefore that Jazz was innocent... and who just an orn before his deactivation was sure that he was missing a small detail with which he would be able to find the murderer." He stepped forward, until he was only a forearm's length from the SIC. "And now tell me, Prowl, where was Jazz in the joor when Tumbler was deactivated?"

"With me."

"Lie!"

Prowl's doorwings twitched in agitation. "No. And you have no proof that says otherwise."

"No proof?" Turnout smirked. "What about Blip, our witness?"

"It's testimony against testimony," admitted Prowl slowly.

The Enforcer snorted. "Yes, but your testimony looks far weaker." He eyed the Autobot coldly. "Backbeat was investigating your relationship with Jazz and was promptly killed. Maybe you're far more than friends... maybe even sparkmates. Then, you'd have all the reasons on Cybertron to lie."

"Why should I?" defended Prowl himself. "I would never protect an insane killer."

"That, I believe." And slowly some of his anger seemed to drain away. "I know that you're a good mech, Prowl. A mech with principles. But love... love has made better mechs than you blind in the past."

That hit far too closely home. The Praxian looked at the decorations, every single one standing for a successful case, many in which he had helped through Backbeat and sighed. "Turnout... you have to believe me when I say this one thing: Jazz has never killed without very good reason. If he had, I would be the first to hunt him down."

Turnout was silent for a pump cycle, then he said: "You really believe this?"

"Yes."

"I will continue my search for a weakness in his alibi, and I'm convinced that I'll find it."

"I can't stop you," acknowledged Prowl. "Could you please sent me the data about Backbeat's murder anyway? I want to..." He wasn't sure how to reason his request, but Turnout nodded anyway.

"I will," he promised with a tired smile, that didn't hide any of the spark-deep sorrow or how the long rechargeless orns had sapped his strength. "I hope that reading about our dead friend will make you see reason."

This time Prowl didn't answer.

~

It wasn't the first time Prowl visited the prison of Iacon. It wasn't even the first time he visited it for a friend. Still, his pedes had never felt as heavy as now as he followed the guard into the high security section and then further, until they had reached the cell for the most dangerous, most unpredictable criminals. Normally, it only housed those mechs temporarily that would be executed or their personality chip wiped within the next deca-orn. Now, inside was only one mech who wasn't even convicted yet.

"Cell 453, in section T," said the guard next to him. "Do you really want to go in alone, sir?"

"Yes."

"As you wish, sir." He slowly opened the first set of bars and security measures, and they stepped through. Behind them,the doors closed again. "If he does anything, call on the emergency frequency or scream. I'll wait here, and if necessary, flood the cell with EMP. That will put both of you in stasis, but better than being in the Well, right?"

Prowl nodded, unable to say anything that wouldn't be an insult. The guard was only doing his job, but to truly believe that Jazz was a danger to him... it was ridiculous.

The second set opened and revealed a small, grey door. He went to the door and immediately the second set of the security measures closed up behind him. He entered a code manually (another protection against hackers) into a pad next to the door and finally, it opened. With a thrill of anticipation he entered the small cell.

Jazz was sitting on a grey, rudimentary berth and looked straight at him. "Prowl..." he said, as if savouring the name alone. "You came."

"Of course." He couldn't help but check Jazz over for dents, scratches or injuries. The relief, when he found none, was enormous. "I was worried about you."

"No need to be. The accommodation ain't what Ah wish for, but Ah've recharged in far worse."

It was true. The cell had a berth, a table, one chair, and nothing else, but it was clean and Jazz wouldn't starve. The lack of Decepticon torturer might raise the comfort level as well.

"Good to hear." He sat down on the berth next to Jazz.

"So, how bad is it?" asked Jazz subdued.

"Bad."

Despite everything Jazz had to smile. Prowl had never answered the question differently. Never changed the serious tone of his voice, or the single word that in reality said nothing about the situation. It was a prime example of Prowl's sense of humour.

"Ah thought as much." He leant into the Praxian, who put an arm around him. "Ah'm glad ya're here now."

"As am I." Prowl shuttered his optics and simply enjoyed the contact for some time. But he knew that they had to talk and that their time was limited. "I've looked through everything, I could find. But you have no alibi for Backbeat and his last message claims you to be the murderer..."

"Nothing that can help?"

Prowl couldn't hide the tremble as he admitted: "At least nothing that I found."

Jazz sighed. "Don't ya blame yaself, Prowler, understood?" He snuggled closer. "But there's one thing Ah think's strange. Ah didn't kill Backbeat, Prowler -"

"I know," interrupted the tactician.

Jazz smiled sadly. "Ah think ya're the only one... Anyway, Ah didn't kill him. But Backbeat seemed to be sure to recognise ma, or at least that is what his last message says. So, there are only three possibilities. One, someone killed Backbeat and forged the message. It'd be difficult with the Enforcer security codes and the timing and everything, but not impossible."

"I agree," said Prowl. "I've let a few professionals check Backbeat's signature. It looks true, they couldn't find anything."

"Doesn't mean that nothing is there. Ah could fool them." Had fooled them. But that was another story, for another orn and so Prowl only nodded, acknowledging the fact. "Second, it was someone that really looked like ma. A mech with special mods or maybe even a mechformer... or third, it was ma and Ah just don't remember."

"Why wouldn't you remember?" asked Prowl with a frown.

Jazz's visor became darker. "Ya know that Ah've partitioned my harddrive to create different personas, to be able to infiltrate Decepticons better."

"Yes."

"So... maybe, one of these personas became too strong, too independent and decided to follow its Decepticon code..." It visibly hurt Jazz to admit this. "In short, Ah'm going insane."

Prowl hugged him closer. "You have no proof for that theory."

"No. But all proof points to ma, doesn't it?" Jazz laughed bitterly. "It's possible, Prowl. It is."

It was and the battle computer presented him a number for how high the chance was. Prowl erased it, before he could save the number in any memory file. He didn't want to know. Not now, when he could still keep his beloved in his arms and hope that everything would be all right.

"Just because it's possible, doesn't mean it's happening," he said with conviction and adjusted his free hand to lovingly touch the small sensor horns of the saboteur. "I will search further and try to get you out of here."

Jazz turned to give him better access. "Prowl... If you keep defending ma, you'll be seen guilty as Ah am." When the tactician didn't answer, he raised his head and looked the tactician straight into the eye, searching for the truth. "It has already started, right?"

Prowl winced. "Turnout is convinced that I lied about your alibi."

"Which ya did." Jazz went utterly still for a moment, then leaned forward to kiss Prowl gently, with all the love he felt. "Prowl, ya have ta stop."

"No."

"Ya have ta." Jazz retracted his visor, revealed his optics and all the forlornness and fear he felt. It was enough to drown in it. "Please, for ma. Ah don't want ya to suffer just because of ma madness..."

"No," was the strangled answer again.

"Just tell them, that Ah forced ya or tricked ya with promises of love..."

Prowl crushed the smaller saboteur to his chest and hid his face in his neck. "Jazz, I can't. Forgive me, but I can't." He shuddered and whispered. "And I don't want to. I don't want a life without you." His voice degraded into static.

"Prowler..." Jazz was for a moment completely overwhelmed, then he hugged the trembling Praxian back. "It's all right, Ah'm sorry..."

Prowl nodded, but didn't move, to afraid to let his world go again. They stayed like that, until the guard informed him that his time was up.

~

It was time for the deca-orn meeting of the Autobot High Command in Iacon and it was already clear that this meeting would be anything but business as usual.

Prowl had been the first in the hall, sitting down in the front row as always. Quietly, he had reviewed his reports while observing how the hall had been filling slowly with Autobot officers. Everyone had come this time. Military officers were greeting each other with short respectful nods, scientists formed groups for discussions, and most telling, nearly every officer for Intelligence was present and milling with the crowds, even though some of them were supposed to be in the middle of missions. Scattered amongst the familiar faces were lesser known Autobots, officers from far away bases on other planets or on satellites. They were officially invited every time, but not required to attend and normally only too pleased to decline.

A small commotion turned his gaze to the right of the front row, places that were normally empty but reserved for the four sub-commanders of the Autobot force. Against all odds, two had managed to come here on this orn and were now locked into a heated argument which none of the other Autobots dared to interrupt. Prowl could understand their reluctance, he himself didn't want to come between Ultra Magnus and Hot Rod of all bots, but sadly he was the one closest in rank to them and as Chief of Security, it was part of his duty. He rose and walked towards them, all too aware of the many optics that followed his steps. This wasn't a confrontation that they wanted to miss.

He reached the pair seemingly astroseconds before the pair could get rough. Prowl stepped between them. “Sub-commander Hot Rod, Sub-commander Ultra Magnus, please be reasonable and calm down. This is neither the time nor the place for such heated arguments.”

“Quiet, Prowl,” said Magnus sharply. “Do not try to command us.”

Hot Rod nodded once. “This is between him and I.”

'Where was Prime, when one needed him?' thought Prowl annoyed. Sadly, the two squabblers were right, under normal, non-battle circumstances, he did not posses the power to command them.

Sub-commanders were trusted generals, equipped with extensive authority, who replaced the Prime himself when he was on another battlefield or planet. As such, they kept their own parts of the army, with their own Seconds and Thirds in command, their own tactical and intelligence staff. It was no small wonder that every single one of those sub-commanders felt animosity towards Prowl and Jazz – though officially ranked beneath them - gave them orders if their parts of the armies fought together. This had led to a rivalry between the tactical and intelligence staff, who all wanted to prove that they were indeed better than those of the Prime.

To most of the them, this was a harmless competition that bred excellence and kept all Autobots sharp and eager to improve themselves. As such it was even encouraged. But some had taken it personally over the aeons of war, and used every chance to prove that they were better.

Knowing all this, Prowl wouldn't simply back down.

“I cannot command you, but you are disrupting the meeting. A meeting of which security I'm in charge of.” It was a barely veiled threat.

Magnus reacted, as predicted by Prowl, with anger. “You would dare to throw a sub-commander out?”

“If necessary.”

At the side, Hot Rod was stepping back and observing them, seemingly amused. While Hot Rod was far from being Prowl's biggest fan, he did respect the authority of Prime's SIC and TIC. Magnus on the other hand...

“I promise you Prowl, you don't have the needed fighting capacity to force me to even show an antenna outside of this room without my consent.”

It was a bluff. Even Magnus wouldn't be so stupid to start a serious fight here, in an overcrowded hall. No, the bluff served another objective – to show that Prowl's fighting skills weren't up to par with Magnus. Which everyone knew. Magnus was one of the very few bots that could spar on a power level with Prime.

“That may very well be.” Prowl didn't give an inch. “But if you keep calm we will not have to find out, right?”

"Right." Magnus straightened and a slow smirk was dancing around the corners of his mouth. "You know Prowl, I've heard some interesting rumours in the last few orns. Jazz arrested for murder, multiple murders even. Quite the scandal. Of course, it wasn't really a surprise. Jazz has always been a lowlife of Polyhex and a murderer, who should never have been awarded the position he held. I cannot fathom what Optimus ever saw in him..."

For a moment, Prowl simply stared, too stunned to say anything. Than a dark rage grew in his spark and his doorwings went from neutral to aggressive so abruptly that every other Praxian would have known to hide. Fast.

“Jazz is a good and loyal member of this army, Magnus, until the very moment of his conviction and remains so now,” he said in a very low and frosty tone. Out of the corner of his optics he could see, that Hot Rod looked surprised, obviously he hadn't expected that reaction of the otherwise so calm tactician. “Don't besmirch his name.”

“Besmirch his name?” Magnus laughed. “As if there is anything left of his reputation.”

There was more than an bit of truth to these words, but all Prowl recognised was the cruel attempt to make it all worse. Ultra Magnus had never forgiven Jazz that the saboteur had overruled his orders and then his very command of the troops at the battle of Nyon. In the end, they had to retreat with over 5,000 dead Autobots that had all belonged to Ultra Magnus' forces.

"This is not about his reputation, and you know it. If you say that Jazz was a murderer, even before those crimes happened, then you have to call every single one of us a murderer as well, Magnus. Jazz has never raised his hand against a true Autobot."

“And yet you say 'true Autobot', what about Autobots he sees as less 'true'?” Magnus narrowed his optics. “But Jazz will get what he deserves now. What do you think Prowl, will it be deactivation or just a wipe of his personality chip?”

“Neither.” Prowl crossed his arms, to prevent his hands from landing in certain faceplates.

“Ah, of course... you gave him that alibi, which is the only reason why he's not already standing trial.” A dark smirk. “I've heard lovely rumours about this alibi and Jazz and you, Prowl.”

Prowl twitched. “Rumours?” he asked, despite already dreading the answer.

“Oh yes. Delightful, little rumours that have even made it into the news channel. I think they even had a panel show on it? About the theory Jazz and you being sparkmates. Some claim that Jazz blackmails you, forces you to help him with a terrible secret. You should see the betting pools on what that secret could be! I discounted those rumours, of course. Our proper boring SIC, having a dark secret? Really, that's something only a journalist who has never met you can have imagined. But most rumours really are like a tragic love story. A story about how you lied to poor Backbeat to protect your lover and when the Enforcer started to doubt, Jazz eliminated him. I have to admit, it sounds so logical, don't you agree, Prowl?” Magnus smiled pleasantly. “But then, you already know the truth, don't you?”

The tactician gritted his denta, knowing that a single wrong word could mean a cell next to Jazz's. "I don't know what you're implying, Magnus. All I know about the murders is what I've given to protocol and what the Enforcers have told me."

“So you say.” Magnus responded, then paused.

A barrage of voices from the other side of the hall reached them. Optimus Prime had finally entered and made his slow way to the front row, having a smile and a few kind words for every mech he met.

Hot Rod, who had been quiet until now, said: “Seems like this will begin soon. We should take our seats.”

“Agreed,” said Magnus coolly and turned without another word, just leaving Prowl standing there like a fool.

The tactician vented and went to his own place, hoping despite everything that this had been the worst portion of the meeting. When Prime arrived next to him, he gave his SIC a friendly smile, but Prowl could easily see behind the façade. Optimus was stressed and deeply worried.

“It seems that Jazz's arrest has sparked a new interest in the proceedings for our army,” greeted Optimus, while sitting down. Both ignored the only empty seat of the hall at the other side of the Prime. “Who will take over for Jazz?”

“Mirage,” answered Prowl. “I'm expecting disruptions and objections the moment I report about Jazz's situation.”

“Naturally,” said Prime grimly. “How is Jazz?”

Prowl hesitated, unsure how to voice Jazz's concern over his own sanity. He finally said: “Not good, Optimus. He's... distraught.”

A slow nod. “And you, my friend, how are you taking it?”

“I keep working.” He feared the moments where he had to stop and all the feelings about the situation came back. Recharge had became a time of loneliness and despair.

Again a slow nod, as if Optimus could sense all the unsaid words and emotions. Maybe he could. The Matrix was a mysterious gift. “I see. Ratchet is already advising me to put you on suspension for health reasons as well.”

Prowl froze. “It would be a disastrous signal.”

“I agree.” A deep sigh. “Still, Ratchet has more than one point in his favour. Please, at least try not overwork yourself.” Prime touched his arm gently. “You're needed.”

There was a bitter remark on Prowl's glossa to the effect of how Jazz had been needed as well, until the very moment of his suspension, but rationality held him back. "I know."

"And don't forget it. If I can help Jazz or you, please call."

A Prime shouldn't say this. A Prime had to be neutral in such cases, but the sincerity in Optimus' optics was genuine and for a moment so overwhelming that Prowl had to look away.

"I will," he answered quietly and couldn't say if he lied or not. He swallowed as he realised that since it all began that Optimus was the first to simply offer help. "Thank you," he added with all the honesty he had encased in his spark in the last few orns. "Thank you."

The meeting started and Optimus' report was met with impatience. When Prime was finished, Prowl didn't wait for another few words and entered the platform. He kept his report as short as possible, as emotionless as possible. Yet he was barely able to keep order in the room. Many wanted to voice their opinion, many wanted to know more, when those details were still classified to the Enforcers or simply not known.

When he neared the end, Prowl was relieved. Just a few more klicks and he would have done it... but then Ultra Magnus stood up, the hall fell silent, brimming with anticipation, and he knew that the worst was still coming:

“I think,” said Magnus in a measured tone, “that in the light of these new revelations, it is time to open up the discussion about things like who the successor will be, if Jazz is now a dangerous leak for our most sensitive secrets and of course, why Prime's own Third in Command has decided to commit such horrible crimes and if there are other bots under the same pressure... and in the same danger of abandoning all reason.”

Those words unleashed pandemonium. While the agreement was considerable, the objection to those words was great as well, and soon angry words and insults were flying through the room. Prowl tried to calm them down, but no one was listening to him anymore. Internally, he was analysing the words for Magnus' intent and came to the conclusion that this wasn't just an attack on Jazz, but on him as well. “Other bots under the same pressure” - how many could there be? If the rumours and doubts about his own loyalty were already rampant, then this could very well mean the political death blow for himself. The other two 'concerns' were attacks on Jazz to make sure that the saboteur wouldn't be able to return to his job, even if through some miracle he were declared innocent.

In the end, Prowl could to do nothing. Respect for his authority had been lost rapidly in the last few orns.

Finally, Prime stood, went to the platform and demanded silence in the very voice he used on the battlefield. Then, he addressed Magnus directly in front of everyone: “I'm sure that these concerns aren't yours alone, Magnus, even though the time to voice them was poorly choosen.”

The sub-commander managed to look guilty. While he didn't like Prowl or Jazz, he was a fanatic follower of Optimus and admired him with everything he had. It was probably for that reason only that the Prime was able to continue defusing the situation and calming the crowd.

Still, Magnus' interruption started a several joors long discussion. The sub-commander didn't get what he wanted most – the political destruction of Jazz – but Prime had to concede on the matter of a successor. A head of the intelligence department was needed, and so Optimus agreed to vote for a temporary successor in five orns. The word 'temporary' was just a matter of courtesy and nothing else.



Part 4