Author's Note: Many, many thanks to the four lovely reviews I received for the last chapter! I had hoped that a couple of readers would still be around, but that some even left feedback really blew me. Thank you!

I'm now back from a wonderful holiday to the southwest of the States and set on continuing this story on a hopefully faster pace than before. No promises though; my muse is still a little startled from the Bumblebee we met in Las Vegas – who sounded and acted more like Megatron, jumping toward unprepared tourists in the middle of a busy walkway in the middle of the night. xD

Seeker3 (formerly NCISWarriorCats): This chapter is entirely your fault. It isn't what you suggested but my muse went haywire with your idea. So I blame it all on you. ;p

Now have fun with the next instalment! ;) Looking forward to your thoughts!


– chapter twenty-eight –

Coup de Grâce

Jazz was bored. And it was Prowl's fault. Yes, he had been asked for his input during the planning, but the stubborn aft of a tactician wouldn't let him do anything else as long as he was still on light duty. Rafael was still working with Perceptor, Miko had vanished with Bulkhead and Wheeljack, and Jack was still in the infirmary. Jazz supposed he could pay the boy a visit and see how he was doing after his stint into Cybertronian subspace, but he doubted he'd fit into the building. No, inquiring about Jack would have to wait until the boy was released.

Speaking of release… Jazz supposed he could badger one of the medics to change his status into full duty-capable. Probably not Ratchet; the doc bot was in a too bad mood to be reasoned with, but Hoist or even Remedy would do what he wanted. After all, he felt fully recovered and needed something to do. No sooner thought than done, and he was on his way to medbay.

When Jazz entered his domain, Ratchet looked up with a sour expression from where he was wrist-deep in Optimus' chassis. "You again?" he growled, apparently stilled miffed about Prowl's and his earlier intervention. Nonetheless, he scanned Jazz out of habit. "What did you do this time?" Remedy, who was busy rewiring Optimus' antennae, threw him a curious glance but Ratchet flicking his fingers in the younger medic's face quickly reminded him of his task. Hoist was nowhere to be seen.

"Nothin'," Jazz therefore replied innocently and grinned jovially. "Just payin' yar patients a visit," he fibbed because Ratchet would offline him himself if he so much as badgered Remedy to clear him directly under his olfactory sensors.

The doc's engine grumbled in displeasure. "Visiting hours will be from noon to dinner. Now get lost before I kick you out!"

Recognizing a threat when hearing it, Jazz beat a hasty retreat. "'Kay, Ah'll be back later." He even held up his servos to show Ratchet he meant it. Nonetheless, the medic's glare followed him all the way out into the hallway. Only the door swishing close behind him rescued him from death by the Hatchet glare. Jazz ex-vented, both in relief and exasperation. Now to find Hoist; he still needed a clean bill of health – or Prowl wouldn't let him back into action.

He found the medic in engineering, trying to explain to Sideswipe why he couldn't see his brother just yet. "His spark is still too unstable, Sides," Hoist just said when Jazz walked in. "It needs to stop fluctuating first. With you nearby, it's difficult for your brother's spark to find its own rhythm. And the closer you are, the worse it gets."

"But he's my brother. His spark is half of mine. How can it not stabilize when I'm close? He's my brother, for Primus's sake!"

"I know, and I know that you worry about him. But trust me when I say you're doing Sunny a huge favor if you keep your distance for a while longer."

Sideswipe opened his mouth to continue arguing, but Jazz stepped in-between before Hoist ran out of explanations that the frontliner didn't want to hear. "Ah was just in medbay, Sides," he began, thus catching the red mech's attention. "Ya wouldna wanna be there, trust meh. Ol' Hatchet's in a very foul mood."

The melee warrior grunted and crossed his arms in front of his chassis. "And you're not just telling me that 'cause you side with Hoist?" he asked, his tone suspicious.

Jazz grew serious. "Have Ah ever lied ta ya, Sides?" he asked.

Sideswipe pursed his lipplates. He held Jazz's gaze for a long time before relaxing his stand. "No."

Walking over and putting a servo on the frontliner's shoulder, Jazz said, "Ratchet said visitor hours are from noon ta dinner. Ya might go see ya brother then."

Sideswipe glanced from Jazz to Hoist and back again before grunting, "Fine," and marching out.

Both medic and saboteur waited a moment longer in silence until the frontliner's steps had vanished down the hallway. Then Hoist said to Jazz, "You do realize Ratchet's going to kick him out? Sunstreaker won't be recovered enough until noon to see his brother. He's currently in the stasis pod Fireflight was in."

"Ah know," Jazz replied slyly, shooting the other mech a grin. "Gives ol' Hatchet the chance ta vent."

Hoist chuckled. "You're vicious. Remind me to never get on your bad side." He looked the saboteur up and down. "What brought you here in the first place?"

Spreading his arms, Jazz explained, "Can ya clear me for full duty? Prowler willna let meh do anythin' before Ah'm fully cleared."

Venting a sigh, Hoist ran a couple of scans. "Why can't you just use a medical leave like everybot else and recuperate?"

Jazz tsk'ed the medic. "That would be boring."

Shaking his helm, half-amused, half-exasperated, Hoist declared, "You're full cleared." A moment later, Jazz received an update of the roster via the command channel – and he was no longer on the injury list. "Still have a full defrag next time you recharge," Hoist added. "Otherwise, Ratchet will have my helm."

Mock-saluting him, Jazz said, "Yes, sir!"

Ignoring the teasing, instead pointing at Jazz's helm, Hoist asked, "What about your visor? You haven't lost it, have you?"

Ex-venting, the saboteur said, "Nope, not lost. Ratchet's has it. It got cracked during the diversion up north four days ago. With so many seriously wounded, however, Ah doubt Hatchet'll be able to see ta its timely repair."

"I see," Hoist replied. "So you ran out of your spares." It was a statement, not a question, so Jazz didn't say anything. "I'll have a look into what materials are available here on Earth. Maybe we can fashion new ones for you."

Jazz grinned; you could always rely on Hoist. "That'll be much appreciated."

The medic waved it aside dismissively. "Now shoo. I have work to do."

Not needing to be told twice, Jazz hurried out of engineering, but not without throwing a "Thanks, Hoist," over his shoulder. He immediately headed for the heart of the shuttle.

Upon arrival, however, he found the command center to be mostly empty; only Rewind and Eject were present, playing holo-shooter at one of the consoles. Jazz blinked, then asked, "Where is everybot?"

"Ramhorn's in recharge," Eject replied after a moment, "Blaster's talking human communications into recalibrating their antennae, and Steelie's still in the brig." A space shuttle in the game went boom and Eject groaned, much to Rewind's pleasure who seemed to be going to win now.

"And Prowler?"

"Somewhere with the humans. He said something about being called for a 'heads-up', whatever the slag that's supposed to mean." The symbiont's tone was dismissive, Eject once again fully focused on his game with Rewind.

Venting a sigh, Jazz turned around and left without another word.

On his way off the shuttle, he once more passed by the medbay. The door was open, and out of the corner of his optics he noticed movement of somebot white with a couple patches of red. That and snatches of quiet conversation caught his attention so he stopped to watch; Silverbolt was online again. Intent on welcoming his friend back among the living, Jazz walked into the medbay, not caring what Ratchet might say to see him back so soon.

He never got around to the greeting, however, because just then, Silverbolt's optics flashed and the Aerial jumped off the berth, using his momentum to punch Ratchet – who had been standing next to the berth, hardwired to his patient – into the chassis, right into one of his tanks. The CMO groaned and doubled over from the pain, sinking onto his knees, just when Silverbolt struck out for another punch, this one aimed at the covering of Ratchet's spark.

Jazz reacted on instinct, his battle subroutines coming alive in an instant. He ran to Silverbolt and grabbed the larger Aerial's arms, trying to physically stop him from further pummeling Ratchet. The medic had the good sense to get out of reach when noticing the intervention. "'Bolt, calm down," Jazz urged the other mech. "This is Ratchet. You're among friends."

But the Aerial wasn't listening. With a mighty roar, he freed himself out of Jazz's hold before turning toward him at lightning speed. Jazz stood no chance to protect himself from receiving several blows to his stomach and chestplating before being able to evade the other's punches. That was when Remedy entered the medbay. "Watch out!" Jazz shouted warningly.

The distraction, as brief as it was, sufficed for Silverbolt to punch Jazz once more, making him stumble backward into a wall. Error messages were scrolling across his HUD, obscuring his view. He was thus unable to help the young medic who was Silverbolt's next victim. There was the sickening crunch of a strut breaking, followed by Remedy's pained squeal. Jazz worked hard to override the error messages so that he could move again. The young medic in the meanwhile sank onto the floor and didn't move anymore, energon quickly pooling around him; a major energon line had apparently been raptured.

Thankfully, Silverbolt stopped there. He stood over the downed medic, frozen, his vents heaving. Jazz could finally see the other mech's optics; they were white with madness. Not daring moving too much lest he set the Aerial off again, he pinged Silverbolt. /'Bolt, calm down please./ The Aerial's only reaction was bending over, grabbing his helm and starting to keen. The sound set Jazz on edge; there was so much pain and grief in it, it was sparkbreaking.

Movement in the hallway caught his attention – and Silverbolt's. The keen stopped abruptly, the white optics snapping to the mech about to enter the medbay. It was Sideswipe. /'Sides, stop, don't come closer!/ Jazz commed in warning. It was too late.

Silverbolt pulled out his rifle and aimed for the frontline warrior. Only decavorns of battle with the Decepticons saved Sideswipe right there and then, allowing him to instinctively evade the shot before it hit him right through his spark. A curse from the frontliner told Jazz Sideswipe had been hit though. Silverbolt continued firing, though no longer aiming for anybot specific. The shuttle shook under the violent attack and the medbay with adjourning hallway bore the grunt of it.

Suddenly, there was movement behind the rampaging Aerial. Ratchet had somehow worked himself into a standing position and was carefully inching toward Silverbolt. He had a datapad in his servos, its cable uncoiled and the plug aimed at the Aerial's dataport on his shoulder. Jazz urgently pinged Ratchet. /What do you think you're doing?/

/Putting him back into stasis,/ came the determined reply.

However, in just that moment, Silverbolt halfway turned around and noticed the CMO's advance. He immediately attacked Ratchet, punching him into his chassis once more before crowning him with his rifle. Ratchet crashed onto the floor like a felled tree while Silverbolt fled the medbay. Jazz noted with relief that whilst the medic's optics were dim, he wasn't offlined, only incapacitated.

The shuttle shook again when the sound of explosions echoed through the hallway, followed by the roar of a rampaging mech. Then silence settled over the medbay.

Jazz pulled up Prowl's frequency while crawling over to the downed medics. /Silverbolt went berserk. Ratchet and Remedy are injured. And probably Sideswipe too./ Because he couldn't see the frontliner anymore, only hear muffled cursing. His own tank was protesting the movements, and he was still fighting the error messages.

/Understood. Hoist is on his way./ Jazz would have loved to receive some information on how Prowl intended to stop Silverbolt, but nothing else was forthcoming, the line already closed again.

Hoist came into view a couple moments later, bent over Sideswipe. Whatever the two were saying to each other, the frontliner apparently was in no immediate danger because soon after, Hoist entered medbay, checking on Remedy first. "Still alive but in stasis lock due to the amount of energon he lost," he diagnosed before heading over to Ratchet who was groaning. His servos were touching the deep dent left in his helm, making him whimper from the pain. Hoist gently but firmly pulled the appendages away and unsubspaced his stylus. He worked quickly but steadily on the dent, the metal gradually regaining his proper shape until it fully popped back out. Ratchet flinched at the momentary twinge, then ex-vented in relief. "Thanks," he whispered, his voice filled with a mixture of differing emotions.

Hoist then turned toward Jazz and ran a scan over him. "Mostly minor dents, though the one to your tank is quite deep. Let me straighten that out," he said and helped the saboteur turn around to lie on his back. Jazz groaned at that move.

While Hoist worked on removing the dent, Jazz glanced over at Ratchet who was already bent over Remedy. "What the slag happened here? Ah've never seen 'Bolt react like that."

The CMO grunted, his fingers digging into the younger medic's chassis after removing the dented plating; they were shaking a little, and Ratchet's optics still simmered with pain and guilt. "I told him about the death of his brothers."

"You what?" Jazz snapped, partly in anger, partly from the sudden twinge shooting through his pressure grid when Hoist pulled out the dent.

"He was stable when coming out of recharge and asked for them," the medic defended himself, though never lifting his optics from where they were glued to his patient's innards. "I would never have told him had I known he'd go berserk at the news." He then grimaced, his movements freezing for an astrosecond before he continued his work.

Hoist turned toward Ratchet and grabbed the other's wrists, stilling them. "How badly fragmented are you?" he asked.

Flickering optics snapped up to him with a scowl. "I'm fine," he waspishly replied. "Remedy's more important." However, the protest decidedly lacked heat, and Jazz wasn't the only one noticing it.

Engine revving in displeasure, Hoist forced Ratchet away from the young medic. "And how do you intend to help with a processor ache the size of Cybertron?" he asked, then ordered, "Sit still." He uncoiled his cable and unceremoniously plugged into Ratchet's dataport. That there was hardly any objection spoke volumes about the doc bot's true condition.

While the medics were busy, Jazz picked himself up, his processor racing. He pinged Prowl thrice to receive a status report, but since the tactician didn't reply, he had no choice but to hack into the base's radio lines. Simultaneously, he headed for the weapons' storage.

When noticing his hack, Blaster raised what firewalls he could generate at short notice and led him onto false trails several times, but Jazz wasn't the Autobots' best saboteur for nothing. Eventually, after about two decibreems, he was in. That was when Blaster recognized him. /You could have said something, Jazz,/ the communications specialist commed him on a private channel.

Grinning, he replied, /Now where would be the fun with that?/ Blaster sent the equivalent of a chuckle in response.

Jazz then closed the private line to better concentrate on the base-wide communications. /Tell your men to retreat, General,/ Prowl's voice rang through the radio on the same frequency the human soldiers used. /They stand no chance against Silverbolt./

/I will not let him destroy the base without resistance!/ General Bryce returned with a snarl.

Jazz just then reached the weapons storage – and promptly almost walked into Prowl who exited the room. Their optics met for only an astrosecond, but that was enough to immediately come to an understanding:

They had to eliminate the threat as quickly as possible.

When ducking into the storage to pick out a rifle, Prowl finally sent him a sitrep. Jazz immediately integrated the data, his processors stilling momentarily when he fully understood the situation. His spark clenched. Apparently, Silverbolt was tearing up the place in his frenzy and had already killed a couple dozen of their human allies as well as injured several fellow Autobots.

Prowl had waited outside the storage. "Outback is following Silverbolt, looking to get a clean shot," he said quietly when they headed for the exit.

That wouldn't be right, Jazz thought. Shaking his helm, he said, "No. Ah will take care of it mahself."

Prowl looked at him in consternation, clearly understanding what Jazz wasn't telling him. "Jazz, you –"

He interrupted the tactician. "No, and Ah mean it. No soldier should have ta shoot an officer, even if he isna directly in his chain of command." He didn't like having to do it himself; Silverbolt was his friend after all. But he knew he was the only one able to stop the Aerial from killing even more of their allies. Prowl was a good shot himself and could probably take care of this too, even though he wasn't a sniper trained to kill with one shot. But as the current commanding officer he would have enough to do to clean up the damage already dealt. He needn't be the one having to eliminate Silverbolt on top of that.

"Outback says he almost has him pinned," the tactician insisted.

"Ah said Ah'll do it," Jazz interrupted Prowl with a snarl, glaring at him. He then released the safety on his weapon and marched out, without sparing his commanding officer and longtime friend another glance.

Silverbolt was not hard to find. Jazz just needed to follow the path of destruction. The Aerial had been thorough; whatever he attacked was demolished beyond repair. That included the humans that had stood in the way, either on purpose or by accident. Paramedics were rummaging around the debris, looking for survivors, aided by Autobots lifting the heavier pieces away while others acted as lookout in case Silverbolt turned back. But from what Jazz could discern while he followed Silverbolt's path there was little hope. The majority of the human victims had not survived the Aerial's rampage.

When passing by the infirmary, Jazz noticed June and the three kids huddled against the wall of the now mostly destroyed subsidiary building. Jack was back on his feet though still very pale. Miko and Raf – and June too – wore horrified expressions. Arcee was with them, protecting them. She, too, was shocked by the Aerial's behavior. Jazz knew why when he arrived at the entrance to the adjourning hangar. Silverbolt was currently leveling everything and everyone inside. The soldiers were seeking more cover against the walls while still defending themselves as best as they could, but their weapons stood no chance against Silverbolt's much more powerful electrostatic discharger rifle and missile launchers.

Stamping down any feelings of sorrow, Jazz hefted his rifle into position and took aim. Silverbolt was still going strong, giving Jazz a hard time homing in on his goal, but he still noticed that the Aerial no longer dished out with everything he had. Either he was running out of energy or ammo – or slowly came back to his senses. But could he risk calling out to him and draw his attention?

"Jazz, what are you doing?" Jack called up to him.

He didn't spare the boy a glance. "What needs ta be done," he simply replied, clamping down on his feelings. He would not fail in this. He had told Prowl he could do it so he would see this to the end.

"But –" Jack tried again.

Whatever he had wanted to say, though, went unheard when Silverbolt suddenly stopped with his rampage and started keening at the top of his vocal processors. Jazz dialed down his audial receptors to protect them from the electronic backlash the noise would otherwise cause. The humans in the vicinity were not so lucky; each and every one grabbed their ears and bent over with pain. Jazz finally got a fix on Silverbolt's chassis, where his spark chamber was. He had a clear shot but needed the Aerial to turn around. "'Bolt!" he therefore called loudly into the ruckus, fervently hoping that the mech could be reasoned with to stand down.

The keening stopped.

Yet the moment Silverbolt faced him, optics meeting optics, Jazz realized there was no chance the Aerial would ever come back to his senses. The other's optics still flickered white with madness. He had seen it before, back on Cybertron. And back then they had had to shoot the mech in question as well.

"Ah'm sorry," Jazz said and fired.

The missile struck home a sparkbeat later, at this close distance punching through the Aerial's chestplate and spark chamber. Silverbolt stiffened from the shock and incredulously glanced down at the hole in his chest. When he looked back up, he met Jazz's optics once more – before falling backwards with a loud crash.

The silence that settled over the hangar was deafening after the previous noise. No one dared to move for a long time. Then Jazz relaxed out of his stance and walked swiftly over to his felled comrade. The weapon was still primed, and the saboteur was ready to shoot again at a moment's notice. However, Silverbolt lay unmoving, and upon arriving next to the mech's frame, Jazz saw that the Aerial's optics were offline. The hole in his chassis was clearly visible; the spark had been extinguished. Silverbolt had passed into the Well.

He put the safety back on his rifle and lowered it. "It's over. He's dead," he announced to the still frozen soldiers. His tone was indifferent, but within his spark, the regret and pain bubbled strongly, almost choking him. The tight hold he had on his emotions was wavering. He had to get out to be alone, as soon as possible.

He wasn't quite running away, but after seeing the emotions on Jack's face – shock, incredulity and accusation the most prominent – he couldn't shake off the feeling that he was indeed taking flight when he subspaced his rifle and folded down into his alt before racing away as quickly as he could.

It was only after having put quite some distance between himself and the base that Jazz halted in the middle of nowhere, transformed back to bipedal mode and let loose the keen that had been growing in his spark, finally allowing himself to succumb to his grief.