Minor Slash warning, Shounen-ai Content.

The wind so cold, but the night so young.  The Medbay was busy, Ratchet working his magic.  Jazz’s wounds were deep, but it was nothing that the experienced Medic couldn’t handle.  As he worked, Prowl watched what he could from through the Medbay doors’ windows.  Ratchet had locked the doors and had refused to admit anyone, so the cop was anxiously standing at the doors, his face practically pushed to the windows.  Ratchet had assured him that he could handle Jazz’s situation, but that didn’t stop the first-in-command from worrying and dreading the worst.  Prowl felt a slight bit of pressure on his uninjured shoulder and looked around to focus his optics on the red hand of Ironhide.
The red mech smiled at him.  Ratchet had fixed him right a while ago, but his left arm was held at his side, three of his fingers still missing. “Don’t let it worry you too much, boy.” Ironhide said gruffly. “Ratchet’s programmed to fix catastrophes like this, and, believe me, he fixes them well.” Prowl nodded and smiled feebly at him then, getting a small bump on his left side, he turned to Tracks, who was standing next to him.
“Jazz is strong,” Tracks said, a small smile on his face.”Whatever those seekers did to him was harsh, but I know that Jazz is stronger than to let a cowardly blow like this bring him down.” Prowl smiled at Tracks, but something about the Firebird’s demeanor worried him.  Tracks had never before cared about Jazz, nor seemed to worry at all of any of the Autobots were injured, so why was he suddenly being a kiss-aft?
Prowl pushed the thought from his mind and looked back into the Medbay at Ratchet’s back; kiss-aft or not, the Firebird was not Prowl’s main concern at this time.  Out of sheer force of habit, Prowl opened up his Comm Frequency to try to talk to Jazz, but found that the Porsche’s line was dead.  He knew that Ratchet had sedated the Porsche, but that didn’t stop the cop from trying.  He put his right hand on the door for a moment as he closed the comm with a sigh.  He wanted this all to be a nightmare, something brought about by the stress of the war.  He wished that if, by some Primus-inspiring incident, he would wake from Recharge and find everything to be back to the way it should, but part of him told him that this was all real.
He felt a bump on his side again and saw First Aid beside him. “Come on, Prowl, I want to take a look at your arm.” Prowl shrugged him off and looked back into the Medbay.  He didn’t want to leave his spot, but knew he needed to let First Aid check him out.  With a sigh, he looked back at First Aid, who was still trying to usher him away from the doors. “Come on, let me see.”
Prowl sighed, but followed away obediently.  First Aid directed him over to the wall and had him sit.  Prowl rested his back against the wall and let First Aid examine him as he stared at the Medbay’s doors, afraid that if he gets too far away from the Medbay that Jazz would die in a nanosec.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Prowl?  Wake up, boy.”
The cop heard tapping for a second before his systems came back online, his optics flitting to life to stare right at Ratchet, the Medic’s EMP generator out and pointed at his chest.  Prowl grumbled and reached a hand up to his head as Ratchet’s arm retreated, the EMP disappearing back into the recess of his arm.
“You must have gone into self-stasis.” Ratchet mumbled, a kind smile on his face. “How long have you been out here?”
Prowl looked around him.  He didn’t see any bots in the hall besides Ratchet and, as he checked his cerebral circuits, he wasn’t very surprised to find it to be quite late.  Looking back at the Medic he smiled slightly. “I don‘t know.  I’ve been out here since you locked the Medbay’s doors.” He paused for a moment as some information floated around his head. “How’s Jazz?”
“Stable,” the Medic replied, rubbing the back of his head with his hand. “But it’ll be a long time before he’ll be functioning properly again.” He sighed, then mumbled “Haven’t seen a bot this smashed up since the beginning of the War…”
Prowl nodded. “Can I see him?” His voice sounded anxious as he watched Ratchet and was relieved when the medic nodded.  Standing up he walked into the Medbay and remorse filled his synapses as he saw Jazz on a corner recharge berth.
The Porsche looked better than before, but not by much.  His head was still exposed and the wiring looked damaged.  There was a screen above Jazz that displayed his vitals and Prowl saw that Jazz’s spark had a stable and strong pulse.  He looked back down at Jazz’s face and sighed.  His visor had been removed and the optical stripe below that was dark.  The cop felt sorry for him and regrets started to run through his mind as he looked at the gaping hole in the side of Jazz’s head.  If he had been there just a few minutes before he could have prevented that pain from befalling him.  Reaching out to Jazz, he went to touch the Porsche’s head, but pulled back as a park shot off of one of the wires and an agonizing scream of pain ripped through the silence of the night.
He stared at the Porsche in shock, his optics wide, as the scream disappeared.  A brief image of blue and red flashed through Prowl’s mind when the spark went off, the scream accompanying the vision through his mind.  Wherever the shriek of pain came from, he sure as Hell didn’t like it.  Prowl leaned in toward Jazz’s head to see if he could determine what had happened, and, sure enough, the cop immediately recognized the Porsche’s memory cords.  Looking up at the Medbay’s doors he had just noticed that Ratchet hadn’t followed him in.  He knew that the Medic wouldn’t be very happy if Prowl accessed Jazz’s private memory, but whatever caused Jazz to omit a scream like that was something that he wanted to find out.  Looking down at the Porsche’s exposed circuits, he reached out toward them and winced as a jolt went up his arm and the shattering shriek went through his head again.

~*~*~
“Does it hurt, Jazz?” Tracks’ head was next to Jazz’s, whispering in his audio. “You’re crying, baby.  Why don’t you enjoy it?  You’re willing to bond with that chauvinistic prick Prowl, but not me?”
Prowl felt disbelief steal through Jazz’s body at the words as he stared at Tracks with horror and pain in his optics as the Firebird reached down and ripped off the front of Jazz’s cod and descended to sit in front of Jazz.  Pain tore through Jazz’s chest and he felt like his body was being ripped in two pieces as both Starscream’s and Tracks’ sparks forcefully attacked and bonded with Jazz’s.  The Porsche screamed on agony, painful tears streaming down his cheeks as he felt his body’s synapses failing, his spark getting weaker and threatening to extinguish from the strain.  Jazz’s circuitry belayed and his body finally shut down his functions, the rapists’ energy surges still flowing through him.
~*~*~

Prowl pulled back as the blackness came over his mind.  He was shaking violently as he held on to Jazz’s recharge berth to prevent himself from falling over.  Revulsion filled his body as the images continued to sway in his mind, anger building quickly.  Why would someone do that to another bot, why would a fellow Autobot betray his comrade like that?  He slowly became aware of his surrounding and noticed a seizing pressure on his arm.  Looking over at Ratchet he was greeted with a livid expression.
“What the slag were you doing?!” Ratchet hissed at him, grabbing at Prowl’s arm to e sure the cop wasn’t going to fall over. “You were screaming; what happened?!”
Prowl’s head was still swimming with the images that had assailed him while he was attached to Jazz’s memory.  He shook his head and quickly thought of an excuse.  “Got… got my imagination going… thought Jazz was dead.” He mumbled.  He felt like he was going to be sick as the violent images raced through him.  The more Prowl thought about what had befallen Jazz, the more sick and angry he became.
Tracks, a fellow Autobot, did this to Jazz?  Prowl never did trust the Firebird, but he never would have imagined that he would have the audacity to do this to a higher-ranking official.  He shook his head quickly to try and rid himself of the sickening thoughts, but instead of ridding himself, it made it all worse.
All at once Prowl’s sick feelings turned to anger as his imagination shifted and began to come up with strategic and ever-nasty ways of doing harm to Tracks, and he had a huge inkling to want to find the Firebird immediately and pound him to bits.  Ratchet had been trying to get his attention, but he quickly shook him off, mumbled about wanting to go recharge, and then left the Medbay with one, single thought in his brain: find the son of a bitch and kill him.