TITLE: Edge
AUTHOR: Macx
RATING: PG-13
DISCLAIMER: None of the characters belong to me, sadly. They are owned by people with a lot more money
Author's Voice of Warning (aka Author's Note):
English is not my first language; it's German. This is the best I can do. Any mistakes you find in here, collect them and you might win a prize The spell-checker said everything's okay, but you know how trustworthy those thingies are...
FEEDBACK: Loved

"You have lost your edge."

That were the words that started it all. Jazz had just stared at Barricade, speechless for a moment, then his pride had risen and he had bristled.

"What are you talkin' about?"

Barricade had just looked at the other mechanoid, then smiled a rather terrible looking smile.

"You have grown weak as a warrior, Jazz. Like any Autobot."

And that had touched more than pride. It had wounded the Solstice.

"You think you could take me on?" had been the challenge.

And it was one Barricade had taken Jazz up on.
That the sparring session turned into a more violent form of matching their strengths was both their faults.

Maybe Barricade shouldn't have provoked his companion more than necessary. Telling him that his death at Megatron's hands had been due to Jazz losing his warrior capabilities might have had something to do with it. In hindsight, Barricade mused later, it probably was what had shattered Jazz's control. The moment the blue optics flared almost bright silver and the visor had come down, he had known he was facing the Autobot warrior. Jazz's visor allowed him to view his environment in a wide variety of fields of vision, and he only used it in battle.

And maybe if Jazz hadn't employed everything in his power to take Barricade out, the former Decepticon might have been able to reign in the blood lust.

As it was, there were two equally matched, experienced warriors facing off. Neither wanted to give in.

Jazz was a force to be reckoned with when let lose. Barricade had no restraints when in battle, aside from not trying to kill his Autobot companion.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

Laying on the hard packed desert ground, Barricade heard the hot metal of his body armor ping now and then. There was a soft gurgling noise next to him and he turned his head, meeting exhausted blue optics. A tear ran across Jazz's nose. Lubricant leaked out of a tiny fracture on his wrist joint. He could only see it because the hand rested on Jazz's scuffed chest.

Barricade felt his own systems protest the slightest movement. There were warnings flashing in a corner of his vision. Everything was strained to the max.

"Got it out of your system?" a voice asked.

Barricade managed a weak glare at the brightly yellow Autobot looking down on them. Bumblebee had appeared throughout their scuffle and Jazz had firmly told him to stay back and let them spar.

Barricade almost laughed. Sparring. Right. As if.

As usual the human Sam Witwicky was with his guardian and the boy was staring at them as if he saw giant robots the very first time. The human was keeping close to Bumblebee, but he looked worried.

::That was more like the Jazz I know:: Barricade sent electronically.

::Huh. I don't remember looking like complete roadkill in the past::

"Like I said, you lost your edge."

"And you didn't use your full potential," Jazz answered, speaking out loud, too.

Barricade's optics narrowed and he sat up, despite shrill alarms going off inside him. "I did what?" he asked coldly.

Jazz sat up as well. He really did look like roadkill. "You held back!"

Claws flexed.

"You let me win."

Barricade rumbled. "You didn't win, Autobot."

"Uh, guys…" Bumblebee tried.

Sam had stepped back and he appeared unsure where this was going.

"I polished the ground with you! You held back and let me gain the upper hand!" Jazz went on, repeating himself.

"You want a rematch?" Barricade challenged.

"If you give me your word of honor not to treat me like some weak maintenance unit!"

"You want me to tear your limbs from your body to prove that?" he snarled.

"I know you, Barricade. You don't lose against me. You don't hold back. You barely broke my armor!"

"Guys…"

"You want me to win by killing you?" the former Decepticon asked levelly.

Jazz opened his mouth, then stopped and hesitated. "That would be… kinda… well…"

"Bad," Bumblebee supplied.

"Stupid," the human muttered.

"And counterproductive," the yellow Autobot added. "Now would you stop being childish? You look like the worst pair of scrap bots I've seen in a while."

Barricade managed to get to his feet, swaying badly. He had last felt this bad after Bumblebee had thrown him into the power station. Jazz followed his example, nearly bumping into him.

"Oh man…" he moaned.

Barricade smirked. His own power levels were at fifty percent and dropping,

"Not a word, 'Cade, not a word!"

"I wouldn't think of it."

"Can you two make it back to base?" Bumblebee wanted to know matter-of-factly.

"I'm not going," Barricade immediately said sharply.

"You are."

"I'm not, Jazz. I can repair myself."

His energy levels were still sinking. He knew he would either have to find a safe place to enter stasis lock and hope self-repair set in, or he had to go to the Autobot base.

"You're ready to keel over from energon loss," Bumblebee told him. "Ratchet can take care of you."

"I don't need your medic to fix me, Autobot," came the snarl.

"You so do, 'Cade," Jazz muttered.

One finger poked at a hole in Barricade's armor and the black mechanoid flinched away. It trickled some kind of brownish fluid.

"Can you transform?" Bumblebee wanted to know.

They could. But it was a terrible process to watch and Jazz lost a few more metal parts that scraped against each other. Barricade wasn't much better. Dented and looking a lot worse for wear, they followed Bumblebee. With great reluctance on Barricade's part.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

Ironhide's first reaction was to yell bloody murder when Barricade drove into the hangar that was the surface part of the Autobot base, but the second he caught sight of the severely damaged form, as well as Jazz who didn't look any better, he called Optimus. Barricade's police cruiser mode showed large scrapes over the black and white paint job. The lights on his roof were splintered, torn apart, the red barely there any more, the blue totally gone. The letters on the doors and rear fender no longer formed sentences and the front guard had broken in several places. The headlights were gone, too.

Jazz's formerly smooth-polished silver paint job seemed to have been worked over with sandpaper and a pitch fork, his windshield was cracked, one tire blown.

"Ah hell," Ironhide muttered.

Bumblebee transformed and the larger mech gave the yellow one an inquiring look.

"Sparring session," Bumblebee answered.

"Sparring?" Ironhide echoed. "Looks more like a demolition derby."

"I've never seen Jazz fight like that. It was like he was a different bot. I mean, I know Barricade fights with all tricks and I've faced him before, but Jazz… wasn't Jazz any more.

Ironhide watched the two combatants roll into the medical area. He had known Jazz for a very long time, ever since the later second-in-command had come online. He had known Jazz to fight with everything he had, to defeat mechs a lot stronger, faster and more battle-hardened than him – because there seemed to be a switch inside him that, when flipped, turned him into a warrior to be reckoned with.

Jazz had gone into Special Ops and information reconnaissance. There was no one who could assimilate information faster than him. His storage capabilities were unmatched. Ironhide hadn't seen Jazz fight with no holds barred in millennia…

And now, of all bots, he had taken on Barricade? Something was wrong with that picture.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

Optimus Prime didn't know whether to read his second-in-command the riot act or ask Ratchet to check the central processor for logic faults. As it was he just stood back and watched as the medic did both, giving the silver Autobot and his black counterpart a thorough tongue-lashing. Actually Ratchet was just short of refusing to repair the superficial damage and let their own systems handle it. That would take energon and time and it would severely dent Jazz's pride of his sleek looks. Barricade probably couldn't care less.

Both bots looked like something had tried to shave off their outer shell, had managed to flay paint and metal off their armor, and there were punctures that, though they didn't go deep, spoke of scored hits.

Optimus turned to Bumblebee who had been more or less the witness. "What happened?"

"Uhm… Jazz kinda… lost it?" the smaller mech answered carefully. "I think it was supposed to be a sparring session."

Prime refrained from snorting. That would have been undignified. Sparring sessions looked different.

"Who started it?"

"Jazz."

Ironhide crossed his arms in front of his chest. "As if."

"He did. I was there, Ironhide. Okay, Barricade didn't stop him, but I wouldn't expect that of him either. And somehow throughout it, Jazz got… like lost… and really started to lay into Barricade. It was like watching a totally different person."

Sam, who was standing next to his guardian, nodded. "It was like he lost his reservation and we got a look at who is really behind the smiles," he said softly.

Optimus gave the young human a closer look. Unlike many of the Autobots he knew Jazz quite closely. He knew more about him, about who he was, who lurked behind the easy going Special Operative. He had chosen Jazz as his second because he balanced the darker side with his lighter nature in an incredible way. It was probably also the reason why his spark had responded to Barricade. The Decepticon was that darker nature and showed it openly, Jazz managed to blind everyone to it.

Ratchet stepped back, looking really pissed off by now. His low, angry words couldn't be heard, but his tone of voice was unmistakable. Jazz looked chagrined, Barricade unrelenting.

Both mechanoids had regained some of their former unblemished appearance, but there was still work to be done, mostly by their own repair systems. Their skin would have to heal itself and the minor damage would be taken care of the same way. Ratchet had only enabled their bodies to start with the repairs at all.

"I should put the two of you in stasis lock," Ratchet could be heard. "Of all the stupid stunts!"

Barricade looked ready to commit murder, but he was holding himself back with a lot of control.

"Who won?" Optimus asked levelly.

Jazz, his face plate looking like favorite scratching toy of a large cat, evaded the stern optics. Barricade sneered wordlessly.

"It was a tie," Bumblebee chimed in.

That got him a dark look from Barricade and Jazz only shrugged.

"We called it a tie," the silver Autobot added.

He had lost the aggressive energy in the fight and his more balanced personality had reasserted itself.

"May I ask why?" Optimus continued his questions.

"It was just a friendly match," Jazz mumbled.

Ironhide gave a bark of laughter. "Kid, you look like the whole of Cybertron fell on you. Not that the 'Con looks any better."

Barricade's claws twitched. Ironhide gave him a challenging look. Prime decided not to step in. For the last months, ever since Barricade had defected from the Decepticons, there had been posturing and growling on both sides. Ironhide wouldn't lay a finger on the other, and Barricade was very well-behaved, but Optimus knew that sometimes all it needed was a single spark.

"We got carried away. It was nothing serious!" his second-in-command added.

"I have to agree in that regard," Ratchet entered the conversation. "All damage is more or less superficial. All punctures stop short of harming the structure underneath. A few secondary energon lines were ruptured, but that was to be expected from the force employed."

Prime gazed at Barricade, surprised. The former Decepticon was known to be a ruthless warrior and he had taken on and won against much bigger opponents. He looked like he had lost a fight, just like Jazz, but both had held back from outright tearing the other apart. Still, this didn't look like friendly sparring either.

Optimus knew that whatever he said now, it would fall on deaf audio receptors. "Keep the friendly matches to a minimum," he only remarked. "I don't need my men scrapping each other without enemy influence."

Barricade's optics widened fractionally at the remark, quite aware of the hidden implication. Jazz almost saluted. Prime met the hard gaze of the former Decepticon calmly, then turned and walked away.

Ironhide followed him, shaking his head. "Kids."

Optimus almost laughed at the general remark. While Ironhide didn't like Barricade among their small group, he had come to grudgingly accept him as a companion to Jazz. There was no arguing with spark resonance. His remark showed that he had started to associate the former Decepticon with the Autobots on Earth.

"Go and recharge," Ratchet could be heard. "If this happens again, I'll deal with both of you personally."

Prime smirked a little to himself. That was a threat to be taken seriously.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

Jazz sat in the underground chamber the Autobots used for their recharge cycles. Humans would call it a bedroom. Usually it was only employed when one of them was damaged and needed to rest because normal recharge was also possible in their alternate mode. He had spent hours parked in a remote location or in the middle of a crowded car park, recharging, perfectly undercover. Now he watched his companion as Barricade's optics darted nervously around.

Of course, the former Decepticon wouldn't confess to being nervous or on edge. Barricade had never been in the base and he probably felt like he was on enemy ground.

"You'll be fine," Jazz said softly.

Barricade's head whipped around and his optics narrowed briefly. He truly looked like he needed to recharge and heal. Jazz knew his appearance wasn't any less spectacular.

"We should do this again some time," he added.

"With pleasure," came the dark rumble.

Jazz knew what Barricade had done and maybe even why. He hadn't really lost his edge, just masked over his more predatory side with the easy-going Autobot he was known as. As Prime's second he didn't see that much battle any more. He was more of a strategist now, watching others fight.

Others called him amazingly cool under pressure. Jazz knew his control was unfaltering even in the most dire situations and it was that, and his impossible speed at deciphering messages, instantly decoding or unscrambling top-secret communiqués, that had earned him the position as First Lieutenant.

Still, underneath all that was a temper and a battle fury and the skill of a true warrior. He just never let it surface so completely.

Except for a few times in the past. Fighting for survival, completely on his own, he had killed without remorse, without weapons, and with a speed that had shocked himself. And when he had finally met Barricade, back before the war, and they had matched their strengths. He had found kin in him, and his spark mate.

Maybe all that control had been his downfall when facing Megatron. As powerful as the now terminated Decepticon leader had been, Jazz had taken on other mechs with the same fire power and size and strength.

He had died because he had let himself get… well, not weak, but he hadn't let the warrior break through. He had kept the lid on his abilities. Barricade had broken the shackles and Jazz had fought with all his potential. He had given up control.

"'Cade?"

The other looked at him.

"Thanks."

Barricade smiled briefly. Jazz walked over to him, facing the battered mech.

"Recharge?" he offered.

The tension was almost palpable again. Jazz waited. And finally Barricade relented. He followed the silver Autobot to one of the recharge beds.

"Nothing will happen," Jazz promised. "You're an ally now."

"Allies have been known to fall in friendly fire."

"I'll protect you," Jazz teased, smiling mischievously.

It got him a warning look, but Barricade laid down on the recharge bed. As his optics dimmed, Jazz placed a hand on the battered chest.

"Thank you," he whispered again.

Then he walked to the other bed and followed Barricade into recharge.