Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Miko had been given strict orders to stay out of the med bay ("I mean it, Miko," in that commanding Prime voice), so of course she set about getting in as soon as she was left unsupervised. Her timing was perfect—she approached the door to the converted storage unit just as Ratchet was exiting, and she slipped through the door behind him as he headed towards the other end of the hallway. Inside were a few beeping monitors, and a makeshift stretcher-thing that was too high up for her to see onto properly. She craned her neck, but she could only catch glimpses of a few sharp silver angles and the wings that poked out over the sides.

Undeterred, she clambered up the stretcher, which looked like it used to be some heavy-duty machinery that lifted really big stuff—probably aircraft, if its current use was anything to go by. She reached the platform with little difficulty, and found herself at the occupant's pointy feet. He wasn't moving, and his eyes were closed, and plus his wrists were chained to the rails, so she figured it was safe enough. She half-jogged along the platform until she reached his shoulder, and gave the armor plating there a nudge with the toe of her shoe. When that didn't elicit a response, she kicked him.

There was a low hum of activating machinery, and his eyes slowly opened. The creepy red glow of them was unfocused, though, and his gaze drifted aimlessly around the room before finally settling on her. "You," he croaked, and she wondered what was going on with his voice box to make it sound so crackly. It reminded her of the way Raf sounded after he pulled an all-nighter to finish his extra smart-kid homework.

She didn't like that. It made him seem more like a person.

"Me," she said, hands on her hips. "Got a problem?"

He stretched his jaw back and forth, like he was trying to get used to his own face. "Can't even remember your name," he said eventually. "But I suspect you have a problem with me."

"Duh," Miko replied. "Maybe it has something to do with all the times you've tried to kill me and my friends!"

Starscream sighed, a staticky rush of boredom. "Get in line, sparkling."

"My name is Miko," she said, giving his shoulder another kick. She wished it would leave a dent, and then maybe he'd stop looking at her with that cross between mild annoyance and vague amusement and take her seriously.

"You think I care?" Starscream asked, one side of his mouth twisting up in a mocking smile.

"I think you'd better!" Miko snapped. "Because if you do anything else to hurt my friends, I'm coming for you."

Starscream rolled his eyes. "I'm shaking." He sounded more awake now, and his attention shifted to take in the room properly. "Where's the medic? I'm surprised my new benevolent masters saw fit to allow you in here alone."

Miko crossed her arms. "They know not to underestimate me."

He looked her up and down, which didn't take him long at all. "You snuck in," he said, and his grin was almost genuine. "Nice to see a healthy disregard for authority in the youths, at least."

She burned with rage at the thought of Starscream approving of any of her actions, and she opened her mouth to give him a piece of her mind when-

"Miko! What are you doing in here?"

"NothingI'mnothere!" Miko yelped automatically, scrambling for the edge of the stretcher. She tripped on Starscream's wing, but before she could fall, Ratchet's hand was there to catch her. His fingers closed carefully around her, and he carried her out the door and deposited her in the hallway.

"We'll talk later," Ratchet said through gritted teeth, and slammed the door shut.

Miko let out a long groan, then pressed her ear to the door. Ratchet was speaking, sounding way grumpier that usual. She hadn't even known that was possible.

"-a day to make sure the transplant takes. Absolutely no transforming before then, or I'll rip that T-cog right back out of you with my bare servos."

"Charming," Starscream drawled.

"If you want a smooth talker, go back to Knock Out. Optimus will be here soon to get those coordinates from you. No," Ratchet added, apparently cutting off Starscream before the former 'Con could object, "we're not waiting until you're cleared for flight. There's too much at stake. The T-cog will take, I just don't want you to strain it. Ready or not, you're giving us-"

"Miko," said a deep voice far above her.

Miko jerked away from the door and looked up. She hadn't even heard Optimus approaching—he might be twenty tons of solid metal, but the guy was stealthy. He was also very, very good at making her feel guilty when she was doing something she wasn't supposed to. Maybe it was because he didn't actually try to make her feel guilty. He just would be disappointed, but he wouldn't say he was disappointed even though it was written all over his face. Sometimes she wished he would just get mad about stuff, because she knew how to deal with angry people, but he was too nice for that.

"I went in while Ratchet wasn't there," she admitted, so it wouldn't all get drawn out.

Optimus made a contemplative sound, then crouched down so they could talk easier. She liked it when he did that, because she really felt like he was paying attention to her. Not many adults gave her the courtesy. "Starscream shouldn't be disturbed too much right now," he said. "I know you're curious, but he did just have surgery."

"I'm not curious," she said, a little too defensively. "I was making a point."

Optimus gave her a bemused look. "And what point is that?"

Miko punched her palm. "I'll scrap him if he even thinks about double-crossing us."

"I see," Optimus said. "Was he suitably intimidated?"

"No," Miko grumbled, scuffing her shoe on the concrete floor. "But I'll show him."

Optimus reached out and placed a gentle finger on her shoulder. "Starscream is our ally, at least for now," he said. "Perhaps showing him some compassion will be a more effective way to keep him so."

"That creep probably doesn't even know what compassion is," Miko said, crossing her arms.

"All the more reason, in that case," Optimus replied with a small smile that quickly faded. "However, I would prefer it if you stayed away from him."

"Aw, c'mon!" Miko whined. "If he's gonna be here, I'm gonna run into him! What, am I supposed to leave the room if he walks in?"

"Starscream is dangerous, intentionally or otherwise," Optimus said. "He's not used to being around humans, and any of you could get hurt if he isn't careful. And if he is planning to betray us, you children would likely be his first target as the most vulnerable among us."

"If?" Miko echoed back at him, hooking air quotes around the word. "OP, he definitely is. This is Starscream!"

And Optimus… hesitated. He was quiet for a moment, clearly trying to decide how to reply. "Under normal circumstances, I would agree," he said at last. "But as it is, I am certain he no longer feels any loyalty to Megatron. He's on his own side now, and I'm hoping…" Here, he trailed off, his usually steady gaze turning inward.

Miko put her hand on his finger, still resting on her shoulder. "Are you okay, Optimus?"

Optimus closed his eyes and took a deep breath (or vent or whatever it was giant robots did). "My apologies," he said. "I don't want to concern you."

"Hey, no, it's okay!" Miko said, grabbing onto him tighter, with both hands, as he began to pull away. She couldn't actually stop him, but the attempt made him pause nonetheless. "If you wanna talk about something, I'll listen. You have a hard time being vulnerable around the bots, cuz they look up to you and stuff. But you're not my boss, you're my friend. I'll listen." The words fell out of her, quickly, desperately, before she could think about them. He always gave off an aura of distant leadership, even when he was being nice to her. Now, she'd caught a glimpse of something more underneath, something small and sad and almost scared, and she needed to know.

"I- believe that would be unwise," Optimus said, and now he did pull away. Miko's hands felt empty and cold. He must have seen the disappointment on her face, because his own softened. "Miko, the strength of your heart is admirable, but this is not a weight I can lay on it."

Miko clenched her fists. "Gimme- gimme something I can do to help, at least." Because she could see it—he needed help, and the problem wasn't something punchable, or shootable, or even medically fixable. It wasn't something any of the Autobots could help him with, she was sure of it. She wasn't certain she could help either, but she wanted to try.

Inside the med bay, Ratchet and Starscream were arguing, their words muffled but the vitriol coming through loud and clear. Optimus' eyes flicked in the direction of the closed door before returning to Miko. "This is not your war," he murmured. "Perhaps you can see things in another way."

With that, he pushed himself back to his full height, and Miko knew the conversation was over.

She threw her arms out and shouted at him anyway. "What the scrap is that supposed to mean?"

Optimus just gave her a faint smile and opened the door.

"-not a prisoner my aft! Take these chains off me right fragging now, Hatchet!"

"Sit still, you insufferable glitch, I told you-"

"I hate to interrupt," Optimus said, and that shut them both up.

That was one of the many things Miko thought was really cool about Optimus—his ability to just stop people right in their tracks, no matter what they were doing. Often just by showing up. She aspired to have that kind of power someday.

But she knew the start of a boring conversation when she saw one (something something keys, something something coordinates), so she skulked off. Bulkhead would certainly be looking for her by now, anyway. It was almost dinner time, and she had to be home in half an hour or her host family would… worry, or something. Who knew.

Besides, she had some stuff to think about.

The next day was a Saturday, which meant normally Miko would have slept in past eleven. But this Saturday, she woke up with a weird knot of anxiety in her gut around eight and couldn't fall back asleep, so she shot a message into the group chat with Jack and Raf.

u guys up?

Almost immediately, Raf responded. Wow, I'm surprised you're awake.

cant sleep, Miko typed back. i wanna head over to base u in?

Yeah why not, Jack said. My shift isn't until later anyway

Is something going on? Raf asked. I mean, besides the stuff with the Omega Keys.

Miko's thumbs hovered over her phone for a minute before she settled on a reply. idk lets talk on the way

After that, she sent a message to Bulkhead, asking him to pick the three of them up. Then she rolled out of bed and got ready as fast as she could. She pulled her hair into its second ponytail as she crept quietly down the stairs, hoping no one from her host family was around. Luck was on her side as she snagged some breakfast from the kitchen—they tended to sleep in on the weekend as well.

"Oh, hey, hun," said a voice behind her. "You're up early."

Miko's groan was muffled behind a piece of toast. So much for luck being on her side. "Morning, Mrs. Jones," she said, not bothering to swallow her mouthful of bread first. She poured coffee into her travel mug and dumped in a few heaping spoonfuls of sugar. Then she added cream, screwed the cap on the mug, and shook it.

"Big plans for the day?" Mrs. Jones asked.

Miko turned around, looked Mrs. Jones in the eye, and took her time washing down the toast with the coffee. "Yup," she said, popping the 'p'—a neat trick to insert attitude into a simple word that she'd picked up from some of the girls in afterschool detention. "I'll probably be back late."

Mrs. Jones had a tense smile. Miko wasn't sure if it was always like that, or just always like that for Miko. "Hanging out with your friends… James and Roger?"

"Close enough," Miko said, and was saved by the honk of a horn outside. "I gotta go. See you, Mrs. Jones." She brushed past the older woman and hurried out the door.

Sure enough, Bulkhead was waiting by the curb. She was usually last to get picked up if one Autobot was getting all three of them, but when it came to Bulkhead, she had automatic dibs on the passenger seat. When she opened the door, she saw Jack behind the wheel and Raf in the back seat. Both boys gave her a wave.

"Morning, guys!" she said, feeling a sudden surge of energy as she hopped in and deposited her travel mug in the center console. "Okay, so, something super weird happened yesterday."

"Seatbelt," Bulkhead reminded her.

"Weird how?" Jack asked, simultaneously.

Miko huffed and buckled herself in, and Bulkhead began to drive. "So I snuck into the med bay after Screamer got his appendix removed or whatever," she said.

"That's where you were?" Bulkhead exclaimed, then added reproachfully, "I was looking everywhere for you."

"And you didn't look in the one place I was told not to go? C'mon, Bulky, you know me better than that."

"I-" Bulkhead paused. "Yeah, that's on me. Wait, Starscream didn't do anything to you, did he?"

"No, he was just, like, kinda rude," Miko said, flapping a dismissive hand. "The weird thing happened with Optimus, actually. I was listening at the door after Ratchet kicked me out, and Optimus came up and gave me one of his dad lectures about compassion and stuff. That's the boring part. But he seems really convinced that Starscream isn't gonna double-cross us. That's weird, right? Like, double-crossing is what Starscream does."

"Mmph," Bulkhead said. He'd never been particularly good at subtlety. All three kids' full attention was immediately on the steering wheel, Raf even leaning forward through the gap between the front seats.

"Do you know something?" Miko asked.

"N-o," Bulkhead replied, drawing the word out into two uncertain syllables.

Miko drummed her hands on the dashboard. "Yes, you do! What's going on?"

If a Jeep could squirm, that's what Bulkhead would be doing. "I don't know!" he insisted. "Not anything specific!"

"But you know something," Raf said.

"Okay, okay," Bulkhead said, able to weather the worst Decepticon interrogations but caving under the pressure of a few determined juveniles. "I was with Prime when we went to negotiate with Starscream for the keys. Then halfway through, just when Starscream's threatening to go to Megatron out of spite or something, Optimus sends me 'n Smokescreen back to base! I don't know what went down, but after that, Optimus brought Starscream right into the base. Now we can't treat him like a prisoner, but we still have to take turns babysitting him just in case he decides to cause problems despite our deal—which! We don't even know the full terms of! We're getting what we want, but there's no way Starscream only wanted his T-cog replaced. Sure, we're not hunting him for sport either, but there's gotta be more, right? I think he and Prime hashed something out, but for some reason Prime ain't telling!"

The end of his rant was met with a few moments of silence.

"You… really needed to get that off your chest, huh," Jack said eventually.

"Maybe!" Then Bulkhead sighed. "Things have just been weird around base, y'know? It's great- beyond great that we've got this shot at bringing back Cybertron. But having Starscream with us for it feels…" He trailed off, searching for the right word.

"Icky?" Miko suggested.

"Icky," Bulkhead agreed.

Miko took a slow sip of her coffee as she thought. She couldn't bring herself to tell Bulkhead the last thing Optimus had said to her, and she wasn't sure why. Maybe because it had felt like it was just for her. Or—no, that wasn't right. It just wasn't for the other Autobots. That was why he'd said it to her. Because he couldn't say it to anyone else. It had been a moment of… weakness, or something that could be easily perceived as weakness.

But she couldn't figure this out on her own, and Jack and Raf had just as much insight into how Optimus' brain worked as she did.

"Would anyone know what OP is thinking?" she mused aloud.

"Ratchet, maybe," Bulkhead said. "He's known Optimus the longest. Since before the war, before the Primacy, before everything. If anyone's got a clue, it's the doc. He won't talk to us about Optimus, but maybe he'll talk to you."

When they got to base, the Autobots were holding a discussion in the main area. They stood around a stack of crates which the four Omega Keys sat atop, fused into a pyramid shape with a holographic blue orb floating above the point.

"-all the good a map does us," Arcee was saying. "We can plot routes through the wastes as much as we like, but that doesn't change the fact we can't even get there."

Bumblebee chirped something.

"Because using Megatron's spacebridge worked out so well for us last time," Ratchet replied wearily. "We've been over that already."

"They've been at this since before I left to pick you guys up," Bulkhead muttered to the kids. "Talking in circles. I was ready to make up my own excuse to get out of here by the time you texted me."

Smokescreen, separate from the rest of the Autobots, was the first to notice them. He was clearly on Starscream duty, since he and the former 'Con were leaning back against the wall to the right of the entrance. Smokescreen seemed unsure if he was disappointed about being left out of the argument or relieved. Starscream just looked bored.

"Hey!" Smokescreen called out, jerking away from the wall and making half a step towards Bulkhead and the kids before remembering his task. He glanced expectantly over his shoulder at Starscream, who made a big show of rolling his eyes and pushing out of his slouch to follow Smokescreen over to the newcomers. "They're all kinda deep in it," Smokescreen said apologetically.

"It's a wonder you lot ever get anything done," Starscream grumbled. "I've spent the last half-joor reorganizing long-term memories just to break up the monotony."

"If you would like to add your wisdom, Starscream, you are welcome to," Optimus said, his voice cutting easily through everything else. Nearly all the bots in the room jumped in surprise, and Starscream's wings flared upwards.

Then he settled them back to their default position, and slowly turned to face the rest of the Autobots. All of them were glaring at him, with the exception of Optimus. "I doubt my insight would be appreciated," Starscream said.

Arcee scoffed.

"Could you think of a way to access the spacebridge without alerting Megatron?" Optimus asked.

Starscream was quiet for a moment. Miko couldn't see his face, but his hands were clenched behind his back, one wrist caught tightly in his clawed fingers. "No," he said. "And whatever trick you used to sneak around him last time won't work again. He's a fast learner. You'd have to defeat him first to get to the bridge safely—but if you had the means to do that, you'd have done so already. Wouldn't you have?" That last bit felt pointed somehow, but the meaning was lost on Miko.

Optimus, as always, was unfazed. "Any other ideas?"

"Oh, I don't know," Starscream snapped. "I don't suppose you picked up any ancient artifacts that can just magically transform your groundbridge into a spacebridge?"

"The Forge!" Smokescreen blurted. "What about the Forge?"

Now everyone's attention was on Smokescreen, and he grew uncertain when no one said anything. "It could do that… right?"

Starscream tilted his head, turning to look at Smokescreen in an exaggerated motion. "Are you referring to the Forge of Solus Prime?" he asked, incredulity dripping from his tone. "It's real? And you have it?"

Smokescreen opened his mouth, then closed it again.

"Well," Bulkhead said. "I wouldn't say we… have it."

"That would work, though," Arcee said. "Wouldn't it?"

"I don't see why not," Ratchet replied.

Bumblebee let out a string of beeps.

"You just have to get it?" Starscream echoed. "Get it from where?"

The room fell silent.

"Ah," Starscream said, putting the pieces together. He straightened his back, suddenly exuding smooth confidence. "Well, that shouldn't be too hard."

"Oh, yes," Arcee said, cold and acidic. "Stealing a powerful artifact from Megatron will be a walk in the park."

Miko had already begun sidling around to where she could watch the full show, and she could see the shift in Starscream, like he was coming to life. Before, he'd been idling, only physically present because he had nowhere else to be. Miko was intimately familiar with the feeling—it was how she passed most of the time in school.

Now, the thin slash of his smile sharpened with purpose, and a low fire blazed through him, burning away any submissiveness in his posture. Even his eyes seemed to glow a little brighter. "Why not?" he said. "I know the Nemesis inside and out. I know where Megatron hoards his treasures. I know all the past guard shift schedules and I can accurately predict possible future ones. Even after going rogue, I was able to sneak aboard and raid the energon stores without getting caught. And with Hot Shot's favorite toy-" He gestured to Smokescreen. "-I could be in and out like a ghost."

"No way," Arcee said, taking a threatening step towards him. "There's no way we're letting you anywhere near the Nemesis. Especially not with the phase shifter."

"My apologies," Starscream said with false sweetness, mirroring her step forward with one of his own. "I wasn't aware you had another flight frame readily available. The Nemesis, in case you've forgotten, is quite high up."

Smokescreen shuddered. "Extremely high up."

"Arcee is right," Optimus said. "We can't trust you on a mission like this. Not alone."

"Not at all!" Arcee exclaimed with a swift chop of her hand, her glower fixed on Starscream.

Optimus laid a hand on her shoulder. "We have no other way to get aboard. Soundwave would detect the energy spike of a groundbridge. But if Starscream could carry someone-"

"Who?" Arcee said. "Bulkhead? You? I'm the only one small and light enough for him to…" Her eyes widened with realization.

"No!" she and Starscream shouted at the same time. They gave each other appalled looks.

Starscream coughed into his fist, struggling to regain his composure. "I could probably carry the yellow one."

Bumblebee jabbed a finger at Starscream as he chirped something distinctly displeased, his eyes narrowing.

"…carry Bumblebee," Starscream corrected himself through gritted teeth.

"You'll need speed and maneuverability on your side," Optimus said. "The less weight you're carrying, the higher the odds of success."

"Then don't make me carry anyone at all!" Starscream snarled.

Arcee's hands curled into fists. She began to move forward, opening her mouth to retort, only to be stopped when Optimus' grip on her tightened.

"Starscream," Optimus said, his voice somehow both soft and warning. "Compromise." It sounded less like an order and more like a reminder.

Starscream's wings flicked one after the other, as if he were physically trying to shake away his agitation. Then he took a shallow breath and straightened his spine, his hands going behind his back again as his stance became more formal. "Very well," he said, tone and expression carefully neutral. "I understand why I cannot be allowed alone on a high-stakes mission. Logically, Arcee is the best choice for infiltrating the Nemesis with me." His gaze shifted from Optimus to Arcee. "It would be foolish, at this point, to allow personal feelings to stand in the way of the restoration of our home planet."

Arcee's face contorted in fury—Miko felt scorched by her glare just by being in vague proximity to Starscream. Then she closed her eyes, breathing deep. When she reopened her eyes after a couple of moments, the harsh boil of her anger had reduced to a simmer. "Fine," she said, and looked up at Optimus. "Can we talk?"

"Of course," Optimus murmured, and followed her out of the main room.

After the two of them were gone, an uncomfortable silence settled over the room. Bulkhead, Smokescreen, Jack, and Raf were still clustered by the entrance, and the rest of the Autobots were by the Omega Keys. Starscream stood alone between the two groups, looking in the direction Arcee and Optimus had left in with a strange, unreadable expression on his face.

Miko decided to take action. She strode over to Starscream. "Hey, birdbrain," she called out. "You'd better not pull any tricks on Arcee."

Starscream didn't so much as twitch, eyes still fixed on the hallway. "What would you do?" he asked, sounding oddly far away.

This threw Miko for a loop. "Huh?"

He blinked, coming back to himself, and looked down at her. "What would you do?" he repeated irritably. "If it was just you and me. If you had no weapons, no powerful friends at your back. What course of action would you take? How would you, alone, damage me?"

Miko opened her mouth, but her mind was blank. Heat rose to her cheeks.

"Back off, Starscream," Bulkhead said.

Starscream's eyes widened, and he swiveled his head towards Bulkhead. "Are you seriously telling me you've allowed these organics to follow you onto the battlefield multiple times, and never gave them the tools to defend themselves?" he asked, his irritation congealing into outraged disbelief.

"Hey!" Miko said, crossing her arms. "I took out an Insecticon, you know!"

"And just how did you do that?" Starscream said, and Miko knew her answer wouldn't hold up under the weight of his condescension.

"Wheeljack's ship," she mumbled anyway.

"So you can use your surroundings, at least," Starscream said, which wasn't exactly the scathing insult she'd been expecting. "But you won't always be so lucky." Then, to her surprise, he dropped to one knee. At the sudden movement, every Autobot in the room started towards him, and he waved a hand. "Relax, I'm just going to show her something." He crooked a claw at her, beckoning her closer. "The other two should know this as well."

Miko exchanged uncertain glances with Jack and Raf, and then the three of them warily approached. Smokescreen and Bulkhead followed, while the rest hung back and watched.

Starscream traced the tip of a claw down a seam on the outside of his ankle. For a Cybertronian, it was too small to easily access, but Miko figured she could probably stick her arm in there. "Cybertronians vary massively in design, but there are always gaps at the joints, to allow for movement," Starscream explained. "Inside those joints, you will find sensitive wiring, especially in complex areas like this. If you find yourself facing an enemy you can't beat, your goal should be to cause enough of a distraction to facilitate an escape. In that regard, ankle joints should be your prime target. Use a tool, something sharp or hooked, and long enough to get to the circuitry. Just don't actually reach inside, since that would be an excellent way to lose those fleshy little servos of yours."

"You mean hands?" Miko asked.

Starscream ignored her, continuing, "The combination of pain and surprise should be enough to buy you time. If you're lucky, you may even impair your enemy's ability to give chase, albeit mildly. However, when you are so much smaller and weaker than your opponent, every advantage counts, no matter how slight." He rested his forearm on his knee. "After that, run. Not in a straight line—our motion algorithms can easily track you. Keep your movements unpredictable and seek cover. Anything that puts objects between you and your pursuer, preferably something that disguises the direction you're headed in. Find somewhere to hide, and wait for backup."

While Starscream was talking, Raf had ventured even closer to peer through the seam Starscream had indicated, trying to get a better look at circuitry. "Cool," he breathed.

"Was nothing like that ever explained to you?" Starscream asked. The annoyance, which had begun to fade during his lecture, was back full force.

"We've gotten the 'hide and wait for backup' talk a few times," Jack said.

"Unbelievable," Starscream said, aghast. "How did I never manage to kill you?" His tone was weirdly impersonal—a little frustrated, but mostly marveling at what he seemed to view as a massive oversight.

"Well, thank you," Miko said, and realized that she meant it despite his last remark. "For telling us all that."

Starscream gave her a hard look, as if trying to assess her sincerity. When he found her guileless, his eyes flicked away, discomfort crossing his face. "It's about time someone did," he muttered, and pushed himself to his feet.

At that moment, Optimus and Arcee returned, and Starscream stepped away from the kids. Miko turned her attention elsewhere, trying to ignore the fact that she hadn't felt threatened at all while being so close to him. He was a creep and a jerk, and he probably had some sinister reason for giving them potentially life-saving advice. Yeah.

Yet she couldn't help thinking about yesterday. Starscream's voice raspy after waking up. Optimus talking about compassion and war.

Miko shoved her hands in her pockets, stepping over to Jack and bumping shoulders with him. He bumped shoulders back, and she felt a little better.

Arcee still looked furious, but also a lot calmer about it. She clapped, a sharp sound that shot across the room and drew all eyes to her. "Alright, everybody," she said. "Let's plan a heist."

While the bots plotted, Miko totally thrashed the boys at Mario Kart. The three of them were, under normal circumstances, pretty evenly matched at video games. Today, though, Jack kept shooting worried glances at Arcee, and Raf's attention faltered every time Bumblebee spoke. Miko couldn't blame them, because she was anxious, too. She just channeled her anxiety differently. That was, directly into kicking ass at Mario Kart.

Eventually, Jack had to leave. His shift started at 4, and by then the planning was over, so Arcee took him. She looked like she was dying to get out of base anyway. Miko couldn't blame her.

Now, Optimus and Ratchet were looking at something on one of the big screens, and Bulkhead and Bumblebee had joined the remaining kids for TV time. As for the last two mechs in the building…

"You don't have to shadow my every step," Starscream snapped.

"You're pacing," Smokescreen said. "It's making me nervous."

"If you don't leave me be," Starscream said, his wings vibrating with tension, "I'll give you something to be truly nervous about."

"Starscream," Optimus said in reprimand, not even looking away from whatever he was working on.

Starscream let out a low growl, flexing his claws like he was aching to sharpen them on something. "Ratchet," he said, his tone cajoling. "Hasn't it been a day already?"

Miko and Raf watched from over the back of the couch, the monster truck rally on TV forgotten. "What's he mean?" Raf whispered to her.

"Docbot's making him wait a day before he can transform again," Miko whispered back. "Overheard it yesterday."

Ratchet was close enough to the couch to hear the hushed exchange, and he gave Miko a taste of his best glare before he turned it on Starscream. "Not quite," he said.

Starscream responded by taking on a pose that could only be described as 'toadying'—bent slightly at the waist, one hand curled over the other in front of his chest, his wings dipped to a nonthreatening angle. "Surely a couple of, er, hours won't make much of a difference. We need to make sure I'm in top condition for this mission, after all. With such a skilled medic as you, I'm sure I'll be-"

"Alright, alright," Ratchet said, holding up a hand. "Just stop doing- that, and we'll head up top."

Starscream straightened up, a smug smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"I wanna go," Miko said instantly. The only times she'd seen Starscream or any Decepticon transform was either from far away or while she was worried about her immediate safety. Without the threat of danger, there was no way she was gonna pass up the chance to see a giant robot turn into a fighter jet up close.

"I'd like to, as well," Raf said, apparently having the same thought.

"No," Ratchet said.

To her surprise, Starscream backed them up. "Oh, what's the harm, doctor?" he purred. Miko wondered if he was physically capable of not sounding like he was up to something sneaky at all times.

Ratchet squinted, looking between Starscream and the kids. Miko and Raf smiled at Ratchet, giving him their best puppy dog eyes.

"Fine," Ratchet grumbled, and he extended his hand to the kids. "But I'm gonna hold onto you. Ap-bup-bup!" he added when Miko opened her mouth to complain. "I'm not leaving you anywhere you can get accidentally squished."

Miko groaned, but Raf was already clambering into Ratchet's waiting palm, so she followed.

They took a cargo elevator to the top, which creaked ominously at the weight of two Cybertronians. Ratchet didn't seem worried, though, so Miko tried not to worry either. At one point, she thought she saw Starscream watching her from the corner of his eye.

The ceiling above them opened, and the platform grated to a halt once it was level with the flat rock around it.

"Nice view," Starscream remarked, casting a judgmental eye over the desert expanse. "So this is where your precious base is."

"Don't make us regret letting you in," Ratchet said, and held out a small disc to Starscream. "Optimus tell you about this?"

"Oh. The tracking device." Starscream's lip curled slightly, but he took the disc.

"Put it wherever," Ratchet said. "You can take it off, but we'll know if you do."

Starscream fiddled with it. "And if it gets damaged in the field?"

"Comm us and explain."

"Would you believe me?" Starscream asked.

Ratchet let out a harsh sigh. "Optimus will, at least."

Turning it over one last time in his fingers, Starscream said, "I suppose that's the best I'll get," and slipped it under a ledge in his chest. He cricked his neck, stretched his arms, and walked right up to the cliff's edge.

He inhaled deeply, his wings twitching in anticipation. Then he clicked his heels together and did a neat little about-face, giving the kids a smirk just before he tipped backwards off the edge. He transformed as he fell, and Miko found herself holding her breath as he dropped out of sight.

Engines roared, and Miko couldn't help whooping as he shot straight upwards, so fast the gust of wind he created made her and Raf stumble. Starscream must have heard her, because his wings waggled in what felt like acknowledgement. He kept going up, up, nosecone pointed to the clouds, until she had to shade her eyes to keep watching him. Abruptly, his engines cut out, and he seemed to hang suspended for a moment before toppling backwards again. Miko gripped Ratchet's index finger as Starscream spun around and around, plummeting towards the ground in freefall.

"Relax, kiddo," Ratchet said. "He's just showing off."

Miko couldn't tear her eyes away. How could falling like that be showing off? And then, just when she thought Starscream wasn't going to be able to pull up in time, his engines fired and he righted himself with a quick flick of his wings. He turned freefall into a graceful dive that hooked around the tall mesa that disguised the Autobot base, only half of one wing visible like the fin of a shark as he circled them. Then he was up and away again, doing loops and flips and barrel rolls, all because he could. For the sheer joy of it.

She wondered what that would be like, to have the wind as a friend and gravity as a plaything. She wondered if she could get him to tell her honestly.

"Hey, Ratchet," Miko said, still watching Starscream. "Optimus said something to me yesterday."

"Go on."

"It was after you kicked me out of the med bay. He seemed sad about something, so I asked how I could help, and he said that this isn't my war, and maybe I could see things another way. But then he wouldn't tell me what he meant."

Ratchet bit off a curse halfway. "If that young idiot is hanging his hopes on Starscream, of all mechs, I'll kill him myself."

Miko supposed that Ratchet was probably the only one around who could get away with calling Optimus Prime either young or idiot. "What hopes?" she asked.

Ratchet let out a heavy sigh. "He's got this notion of ending the war without winning or losing. Where both sides come back together to rebuild the world better this time. It's-" He made a frustrated grinding noise. "No one else would think it's possible. I sure don't. But he hopes." His free hand clenched, and he sounded so old and tired as he murmured, "Primus save him, he hopes."

Raf crouched to give Ratchet a comforting pat on the palm, but Miko just kept holding onto his finger, still watching Starscream. She didn't really know what any of that had to do with her or her ability to see things another way, and yet… she had a strange feeling she was starting to kind of understand.

Maybe it was something about the way Starscream cut through the sky. Exuberance radiated off him—there was nothing calculating or scheming in the twirl of his wings, the gunning of his engines. He'd been on the ground for so long, and now he was celebrating flight. She couldn't deny anymore that he was just another person, with his own motives and dreams and history. And if Starscream was a person, what about the rest of the Decepticons? She knew plenty of people did plenty of bad things for plenty of reasons, but she was used to applying that mentality to humans. It required another shift of thinking to apply it to alien robots, especially when she'd been taught by most of the Autobots that Decepticons were just plain bad.

And maybe they were bad people, but Miko was starting to think that maybe it wasn't all that simple. If Optimus thought there was a way to reconcile their differences, maybe… maybe…

Miko didn't know. But she was going to find out.

"Alright, pack it in," Ratchet said into his comm. "That's enough fancy flightwork for today. Save some fuel for your mission."

Starscream veered back towards the mesa, transforming again as he landed. "Killjoy," he said, but he was grinning, exhilarated and sincere. Then he caught himself, and the grin shifted into a haughty sneer.

Miko came to a decision. She wasn't sure if it was the right one, but that had never stopped her before. "Woo!" she crowed, throwing up horns with both hands. "Starscream, that was awesome!"

Starscream gave her a startled look, then quickly composed himself. "Of course," he said, lifting his chin. "I'm the best there is."

But some of the sincerity had returned to his smile, and Miko knew she could do this.

Chapter Text

That evening, after Bumblebee and Bulkhead left to take their respective children home, Ratchet commed Optimus, asking him to meet in the med bay. Starscream was busy running his Nemesis-tracking algorithm under the watchful optics of Arcee and Smokescreen, and there weren't any other troublemakers running loose in the base anymore. No chance of Miko listening at the door again.

Ratchet stood in the middle of the med bay, and he waited.

It wasn't long before Optimus' telltale steps approached—as heavy as Bulkhead's, but more graceful and with a longer gap between. Ratchet could still remember when those steps were shorter and lighter. He wished the difference didn't wound him.

Optimus entered the med bay. "Am I in trouble?" he asked with a wry smile, closing the door behind him.

Ratchet clenched his jaw. "What the Pit were you thinking, setting Miko after Starscream like that?"

The smile vanished, and Optimus closed his optics. "I… wasn't," he said eventually. "It was a momentary lapse in judgement, and I… It wasn't my intention."

"Well, you got one thing right," Ratchet spat. "This isn't her war. We've done our level best to keep those kids out of the worst of it, and now Starscream's teaching them about weak points in Cybertronian physiology and Miko seems to be making it her life's mission to be friends with him. Optimus, I don't know everything you discussed with him, but you can't trust him." There were so many things he was upset about that he couldn't just pick one, and they all fell out in a jumble.

"So far, allowing Starscream into our operations has yielded promising results," Optimus said in a diplomatic tone that made Ratchet want to throttle him.

"So far!" Ratchet shot back. "But very shortly, we're going to let him loose on the Nemesis, and we could lose Arcee. We could lose everything."

Optimus hovered by the door a moment longer, then moved over to the stretcher and sat down. "Starscream is a lot of things," he said, elbows propped on his knees and hands clasped in front of him, "but he's not stupid. He won't jeopardize this mission."

"How do you know?" Ratchet said. "With our base's location, he could hand us over on a silver platter, and nothing, not even reformatting Cybertron with his face plastered over the hemisphere, would make Megatron happier."

"Because he doesn't want to make Megatron happy," Optimus replied. "He wants Megatron dead."

This wasn't news. Everyone knew Starscream was full of hate—both in general and for Megatron specifically. But there was something heavy about the way Optimus said it, something final.

And it- it made sense. If Starscream wasn't going for some twisted powerplay in a bid to rule the Decepticons, then the best way to kill Megatron with minimal risk to his own plating would be to ally himself with the Autobots. Struggling to reinstate himself as second-in-command would be too tenuous a position if all he was looking for was one lucky shot.

"Only if that's all he wants," Ratchet said. "He tends to have loftier goals."

"Loftier than taking out the lynchpin of the entire Decepticon movement?" Optimus asked. "No matter his current allegiances, that act alone would give him a fine talking point when he inevitably tries to argue his way into taking control of the power vacuum."

Ratchet strangled the air in front of him. "And then we'll have to deal with him being in charge again! He's too good at commanding the Decepticons when he's not worried about Megatron breathing down his stabilators. We can't afford to let that happen."

"No," Optimus said, in a way that definitely had a 'but' attached to it.

It all fell into place, then. Ratchet sailed right past angry and into the deceptively calm waters of absolute and total fury. "Tell me you didn't think there was the slightest chance Miko would try to befriend him," he said, softly. "When you talked to her yesterday. Optimus."

Optimus' silence was answer enough.

"She's a child," Ratchet said. "She's a child, Optimus, and you're- you're putting her straight in the path of one of the most dangerous mechs on this fragging planet-"

"I didn't-" Optimus said, his voice constricted. "I didn't mean to. But I can't- we can't keep her away from him. She would've kept trying to antagonize him, trying to- to prove herself, or-" He took a deep, shuddering in-vent. "How many times have we tried and failed to prevent the kids from just doing whatever they want to do? I thought if I redirected her instead…"

"Don't lie to me," Ratchet hissed. "There's other options. We can keep the kids out of base and-"

"Ratchet," Optimus said. "Having Starscream on our side—truly on our side… It could change everything. It could end this war for good. We could fix everything."

"Are you willing to gamble with Miko's life for it?" Ratchet snarled.

"I'm not gambling, I'm-" Optimus' hands clenched together so tightly that Ratchet heard the metal creak. "It was a spur of the moment decision, yes, but I'm allowing it to continue as a calculated risk. And it's working, Ratchet, he's already showing a soft spot for-"

Ratchet's hand shot out, his fingers digging into the frame of Optimus' windshield, and he yanked Optimus forward so their faces were level. "You idiot," he said, energon pounding through his fuel lines like ice. "You bleeding damn spark. A soft spot? Because he gave them some survival tips and showed off how good he is at flying? He's identified them, correctly, as our weak point. And if he gets them to trust him, they'll just be that much easier for him to harm."

"Who else in this base can he trust?" Optimus asked quietly. "Almost every bot here would gladly see him dead. The only ones who don't pose any threat to him are the kids."

"He's a threat to them!"

"Not if he wishes to maintain this alliance." Optimus placed his hand over Ratchet's, carefully prying the medic's fingers loose. Ratchet let him, noting the faint tremors in Optimus' own fingers.

"You'll never forgive yourself if those kids get hurt because of this," Ratchet said.

"I knew that from the first moment they entered the base," Optimus replied. He kept Ratchet's hand held in both of his, optics cast down.

"I don't know if I'll forgive you," Ratchet added.

Optimus bowed his head. "I couldn't ask you to."

Neither of them spoke for a few moments. Ratchet was still angry, but distantly. As much as he hated it, Optimus had a point—if this worked, it meant that all of Optimus' rose-tinted dreams had a chance of coming true. Ratchet might be a card-carrying cynic, but he trusted Optimus to make if not the right choices, then the most well-intentioned ones. Even back when he'd been just an archivist, he'd had this magnetic draw to him, a way of painting a picture of a world so beautiful that you couldn't help but want it to be real, too. And the words were good, but any politician worth his salt could use the right words. Orion actually believed what he was saying, and was willing to take whatever action he needed to. It was part of why Ratchet had followed him for so long, all the way to the end of the world and out the other side.

Ratchet wasn't a mech of much faith, and he didn't put any stock in the mysticism of the Matrix. Still, he believed in Orion Pax.

"I'm a coward," Optimus said eventually, his voice thick. "Starscream is going to kill Megatron, and I'm going to let him. Am I allowing him the closure he needs, or am I just using him to do my dirty work?"

There it was—the source of that jagged shard of doubt Ratchet had seen chafing at Optimus for the past few days. "It doesn't matter which of you does it or why," Ratchet said. "If this war is ever going to end, Megatron has to go."

Optimus' shoulders slumped. "It matters to me," he whispered. And then, "I miss him, Ratchet."

"I know," Ratchet said, curling his free hand around the back of Optimus' neck. He eased Optimus towards him, and Optimus let his forehead clunk gently against Ratchet's shoulder. "I know, Orion."

A long time ago, when Optimus was awkward and unsure in his new frame, he'd sat before Ratchet in a similar way. His hands, too large to be comfortable with yet, had rested carefully on Ratchet's back; his face, unchanged, had been hidden against Ratchet's collar fairing. And Ratchet had held him tight, rocking him through choked sobs, trying so hard not to cry himself as Orion-now-Optimus mumbled didn't want this and can't reach him and it's going to be war.

Tonight, when it felt like everything might finally be coming to a close, Ratchet rubbed his thumb in soothing circles at the nape of his oldest friend's neck, and Optimus Prime silently wept for something ages lost.

Miko was quiet as they crossed the vast desert expanse, Bulkhead's headlights leading the way along the dirt track that went from the Autobot base to the nearest major highway.

"Everything okay?" Bulkhead asked eventually.

"I've just been… thinking," Miko said.

"Uh oh," he joked, trying to lighten the frankly oppressive atmosphere in his cab.

That got him a devious grin and a cocked eyebrow. "Better me than you," she ribbed back, and Bulkhead felt a stab of relief. A lot of what had been going on lately was way above his regular pay grade, and he was starting to feel cast adrift. But he could still keep Miko smiling, and that was worth more and more every day. Then her gaze wandered back out the window, and she said, "I talked to Ratchet."

"Oh? Did he tell you anything?"

"Kind of," Miko replied. She tapped her fingers on his steering wheel in a pattern Bulkhead recognized from the latest song she was trying to write. "How come this whole war started in the first place? Like, I remember Ratchet saying that Megatron and Optimus used to be buds, and they were trying to start a revolution or something. What were they revolutioning about?"

Bulkhead hadn't been ready for this particular question, and he took a moment to think over how to respond. "Cybertron wasn't really that great a place," he said at last. "It was all nice and shiny on the surface, but it was built over a whole load of rottenness. The folks in power didn't care who they had to crush to make sure they stayed in power. And the ordinary mechs… well, the way we were built was the limit of what we were allowed to be. I didn't choose to be a construction worker, before the war. I had to be one because of the way I was sparked."

"Huh," Miko said. "Robot racism."

"Huh?"

Miko grimaced. "We've got similar issues here on Earth," she said. "I think I get the picture. So, if both Megs and OP wanted the same thing, how'd it get so messy?"

"Optimus wanted to hash things out peacefully with the Council," Bulkhead replied. "But Megatron wasn't really interested in talking."

Miko considered this, her fingers tapping again as she thought. "What made you pick the Autobots?"

"Felt right, I guess," Bulkhead replied. "Though I was one of the later recruits. I'd heard whispers of the revolution before it all hit, but I figured that was business for mechs smarter than me. Then Optimus and Megatron had their disagreement, and suddenly it was everybody's business. You had to pick a side or get off Cybertron." The ground under his tires smoothed from dirt to asphalt as he hit the highway, and he could see the lights of Jasper on the horizon. "By that point, I'd seen Megatron's scorched-earth policy in action, and it left a bad taste in my mouth."

"Do you think Optimus could have talked it out with the Council?" Miko asked.

Bulkhead slowed for a moment, before resuming the same pace. "Nah," he said. "I don't think there's any such thing as a peaceful revolution, especially not when the whole structure's built on bad foundation like that. But Optimus wouldn't be Optimus if he didn't give people a chance to do the right thing."

Miko hummed, and her absent expression started to worry Bulkhead. He'd noticed how she'd started getting friendlier with Starscream, especially after his test flight, and he had a nasty hunch about where this line of inquiry was going.

"Miko," he said. "Prime's… special. He's able to reach out a hand to his enemies, because he's forged tough enough to be okay if they try to cut it off. Even I'm not that durable." Thinking about Breakdown still stung in ways he couldn't fully articulate.

"What're you saying, Bulk?"

"I'm just saying…" He sighed. "Be careful."

She patted the wheel. "I'm always careful."

"C'mon, Miko," he replied, his smile evident in his voice even as his spark gave a strange twist, "I know you better than that."

Raf liked it when Bumblebee took the long way home—tearing across the open desert under the rising moon, a cloud of dust billowing in their wake. He felt free, like he could go anywhere. Like the whole universe was an open book, and he had all the time he wanted to read it. The feeling never lasted long, because he inevitably remembered that he had a destination, and the destination was home. Still, those brief, dizzying flashes of infinite possibility were something sweet to be savored.

Tonight, it was harder than ever to hold onto that feeling. The base they were leaving behind had the same leaden weight to it as the thought of home did, and it was disconcerting. Raf was used to thinking of the hidden HQ as a safe haven of sorts. While it didn't feel exactly unsafe there now, there was definitely a bubble that had been popped.

"What do you think of Starscream joining us?" Raf asked.

Bumblebee was quiet for a moment. ::I dunno,:: he said. ::It's… weird. He's been Megatron's SIC since the start of the war, and we've spent so much time trying to kill each other. Cliffjumper's just the most recent friend I've lost to the Decepticons, but…:: He let out a hesitant buzzing noise. ::I mean, I've killed a lot of 'Cons. We all have. There might've been someone Starscream cared about in that list. I wouldn't know.:: He sighed, a single low, descending tone. ::I guess I'm trying to see it from both sides, if he's gonna be around. But it's hard.::

"Hm," Raf said, agreeably, and didn't say what he was thinking.

Because he was thinking a lot of things, and he didn't know how all the pieces fit together yet. He was thinking about the way Jack described Cybertron—desolate, uninhabitable, a crumbling monument, a tomb robbed of its corpses. He was thinking about Miko, repeating Optimus' words—this isn't your war, maybe you can see things another way. He was thinking about Bumblebee trying to see things from both sides. He was thinking about how often the Autobots talked about the war like it was over, even as they continued to fight it.

And he thought: what's the point in sides if the apocalypse has already happened?

Smokescreen had the second shift guarding the door to Starscream's room, after Bulkhead. They were hardly going to give him the chance to wander off while the rest of them were recharging, but it was still kind of a pain in the aft. He propped himself up against the wall and crossed his arms, settling in for a boring night.

Sometime around 3 a.m., he thought he heard scratching coming from inside, like a long, sharp drag of metal on concrete. "Everything good?" he called, loud enough to be heard, but soft enough that it wouldn't wake Starscream if he was in recharge.

In response, the scratching stopped.

Alright, that was suspicious. Smokescreen rapped the back of his hand lightly on the door. "Can I come in?"

There was a moment of silence, then a low grumble. "Do I have a choice?"

Smokescreen frowned as something writhed uncomfortably in his gut. "Well… yeah," he said. "If you don't want me to, I won't. I just wanted to make sure everything's alright."

Another stretch of quiet. "I'm fine," Starscream growled.

"I'll take your word for it, then," Smokescreen said, and returned to his position against the wall.

There was a soft scrape of metal against metal, then clicking footsteps. "That's it?" Starscream asked, from directly on the other side of the door. "You're not going to see if I'm up to something?"

"Like what?" Smokescreen asked wearily. "Clawing a hole in the concrete? I don't care, man. Do whatever. You're not a prisoner, and I won't treat you like one."

"You're standing guard outside my door."

"That's just common sense. Word has it, you're a slippery bastard."

A faint tapping, like Starscream was drumming the tips of his claws on the door. "Word has it…" he echoed. "Interesting. What rock did Optimus dig you out from under, anyway?"

Smokescreen side-eyed the door. "What makes you say that?"

"Well, you're clever in a fight, I'll give you that," Starscream replied. "But you're too polished, too shiny. War hasn't quite gotten its grime on you yet, has it? It leaves me wondering just how one misses the longest conflict on this side of the universe."

"Get born on the back half of it, I guess," Smokescreen said with an amused huff.

"You're cold-constructed." It wasn't a question. Of course not—there was no other conclusion to draw. Cybertron hadn't had an active hotspot since before the war.

"Gen-u-ine MTO," Smokescreen replied, knocking on his chest. "Iacon Tower was starting to run out of guards, so they made some new ones."

Starscream let out a disapproving sound. "Cannon fodder, you mean."

"Hey! Protecting Iacon Tower was a huge honor!" Not all of his batchmates had passed training. He'd given his all to be one of the highest scorers. It was why he'd gotten to spend so much time around Alpha Trion.

"Sure," Starscream said in a whatever-gets-you-through-your-recharge-cycles kind of way. When Smokescreen didn't reply, Starscream sighed. "Good talk, Hot Shot." The clicking footsteps receded, and Smokescreen thought he heard the creak of Starscream getting back on his berth.

"Good talk, Hot Shot," Smokescreen mimicked under his breath. "What an aft."

But his fuel tank was still squirming in his chassis, because Starscream was kind of right. He remembered the way the forged mechs of Iacon Tower looked right through him, like he was part of the scenery. Alpha Trion was the only one who actually saw him, who talked to him like he wasn't just there to take orders. In the end, though, Trion had used him as a storage crate. Smokescreen couldn't help wondering if Trion would have tried to save him if he wasn't a delivery vessel. If Trion would have cared if Smokescreen had died protecting him.

Alpha Trion had been in charge of Iacon Tower. He was probably the one who had commissioned Smokescreen and his batchmates. That thought used to be comforting—even if the other bigwig mechs in the Tower didn't care about him, at least Trion wanted him there. Ever since he'd found out there'd been an Omega Key in his torso, the thought made him uneasy. Had he just been a means to an end, all along? Was he fighting for a cause that didn't really see him as a person?

Smokescreen hadn't been that lonely in the Tower. There were his batchmates, the ones who'd made it through training, and there was Trion, who'd teach him history on shifts that would have been otherwise long and boring. But the other guards, the forged guards, always made him feel like an odd one out. He never fit in with them on shift, and none of the MTOs went into the canteens without a buddy.

He didn't really fit in with the Autobots here either, but for a different reason—they'd been working as a small squad in uncertain territory with fewer resources than the enemy. He was an interloper in an established tight-knit dynamic, and it was sort of refreshing to feel like an outsider for, like, a legitimate reason. It still kinda sucked, but at least it didn't feel permanent. He could actually prove himself to them. With enough time, and maybe a few more sick stunts, he'd be part of the team for real. Things were already getting better—Arcee's affectionate shoulder punches had softened, he'd managed to beat Bulkhead at lob, and he was hanging out with Bee a lot in their down time.

Still, he wished he had at least one of his old buddies around. The kids were cool as hell—Miko knew all the best music and swears, Jack was great to drive with, and Raf packed more smarts into a tiny package than Smokescreen would have thought possible—but it wasn't the same.

He was suddenly hit by a powerful wave of grief. His batchmates were probably all dead. He'd been doing a pretty good job of not thinking too hard about it so far, what with all the action and fighting and working for Optimus Prime, but… Primus, that last assault on the Tower had been brutal. Maybe some of them escaped, or were captured. But most of them, almost certainly, were dead. And he had no way of knowing which ones to mourn, so he was just going to have to mourn all of them.

Smokescreen pressed a hand to his optics as he struggled to shove his feelings back into whatever pit they'd crawled out of. He wasn't going to break down outside Starscream's room, he wasn't. What if Starscream heard him crying, or Optimus showed up, or-

"Smokescreen?"

Smokescreen drew in a sharp vent and scrubbed his palm over his face, hopefully catching any stray cleaner fluid before he turned to acknowledge Arcee. "Shift change already?" he asked. His vocalizer fritzed a little. He reset it. "I thought Ratchet was after me."

"No, I… I was just having trouble recharging," Arcee replied, her gaze darting away for a moment. "Are you okay?"

He tried to give her a smile. From her increasingly worried expression, he didn't really succeed. "Just tired, I guess," he said.

Arcee looked at him, then looked at him a little longer. "I'm going up top," she said. "Stargazing helps me feel better, sometimes. When your shift's up, you should join me."

Smokescreen opened his mouth to turn her down, and said, "Yeah, okay."

She relaxed a bit, and the corner of her mouth curled up gently. "I'll see you then, kid."

"Yeah," he said again, and then she was gone.

There was half an hour left in his shift. He stared at the wall across from him the whole time. His processor felt disconnected from his frame, and he was scared of what would happen if he tried to reconnect. Ratchet showed up to relieve him; they probably exchanged some words, but Smokescreen couldn't, for the life of him, recall what they were. His legs moved of their own volition, carrying him to the cargo elevator. He watched himself press the button for the roof, and the treacherous grumbling of the elevator's pulley system sounded far away as it rattled him upwards.

Arcee was sitting on a wide outcropping near the edge of the mesa, her back to him as he came out of the elevator. She twisted around to look at him as his legs continued to carry him to his destination—the empty spot beside Arcee, with the desert stretching out for miles around them, and the night sky a speckled, yawning void above them.

Arcee, thankfully, didn't say anything. She just pulled a scrap of cloth out of her subspace and wiped the cleaning fluid off Smokescreen's cheeks. He wasn't sure when he'd started crying.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" she asked, when he eventually stopped.

Smokescreen shook his head.

"Maybe," he said.

"Yeah," he said.

He didn't say anything else.

She waited.

In the end, it felt good to say their names again. It felt good to talk about the stupid pranks they'd pulled, about their late-night card games, about how much he missed them. And it felt good to tell it all to someone who knew what he meant, someone older and more experienced. Later, he wouldn't remember the specifics of what either of them said.

But he would always remember how it felt, sitting side-by-side under a starry sky and knowing he wasn't really alone, after all.

At 10:30 a.m., Miko took the stairs down two at a time, thundering into the kitchen and heading straight for the pantry cupboard. Mrs. Jones was already in the kitchen, rummaging through the various utensil drawers.

"Hun, have you seen the knife sharpener?" Mrs. Jones asked.

"Dunno," Miko replied, stuffing a handful of granola bars into her backpack. "What's it look like?"

"It's a metal stick about this long, with a handle."

Miko paused, then grabbed a few fruit cups. "Haven't seen it," she lied. "Anyway, I gotta go. Won't be back late this time. I've got school tomorrow! Gotta be an upstanding citizen, etcetera." She shoved a box of fruit roll-ups into her bag and zipped it up. Slinging one strap over her shoulder, she hightailed out of there before Mrs. Jones could get any bright ideas about having a conversation.

Bulkhead was ready and waiting at the curb again, and she threw herself into the passenger seat, chanting, "Snacks! Snacks! Snacks!"

Jack and Raf picked up the chant as Bulkhead reflexively reminded her, "Seatbelt."

Miko buckled herself in and handed out her stashed treats—granola for Raf, fruit cups for Jack, and the roll-ups for her. She hummed and kicked her legs as she chewed.

"You're chipper this morning," Bulkhead remarked.

Miko smiled, her eyes fixed on the road ahead of them. "I have a good feeling about today," she replied.

Chapter Text

As soon as Miko's boots hit the concrete floor of the base, she was running over to where she kept her music stuff stashed. Without having to be asked, Jack and Raf helped her set up the amps over in the corner she usually used to practice.

"I've got homework, so just don't play too loud," Raf said as Miko plugged in her guitar.

"Yeah, sure thing," Miko replied. She looked over at the group of bots clustered around the holoscreens—Starscream was at the keyboard, being watched by Ratchet and Optimus. Bumblebee and Smokescreen were standing off to the side, and Arcee was nowhere in sight. Bulkhead, apparently, had gone off to find her.

Miko fiddled with her guitar some more while Jack and Raf settled on the couch, then struck out the opening chords of 'Smoke on the Water.' "How's the volume?" she called out.

Raf gave her a thumbs-up. Over by the holoscreens, Starscream's head jerked around towards the source of the noise. "What's that racket?" he snapped.

"Music!" Miko said with a quick strum.

"Oh, please," Starscream muttered, returning his attention to the screen in front of him.

She wasn't gonna let him off that easy, though. "You too good for music, Screamer?"

His gaze flicked to her, but he didn't turn his head again. "I doubt any clatter you organics produce is worthy of being called such," he said, his disinterest in the subject clear.

Now those were fighting words. Practice could wait—it was time to put her plan into action. She set her guitar down on top of the amp and strode over to Starscream. "Did you know I have a superpower?" she said, by his foot. Behind her, Ratchet shuffled a bit, like he wanted to put himself between Miko and Starscream.

Starscream looked down at her. "Do you, now," he drawled.

"Yup," she said. "I can guess what kind of music someone likes. And I've never been wrong."

Starscream sneered. "That's not a power. That's a shoddy combination of guesswork, statistics, and luck."

Miko jerked her thumb in the direction of the speakers. "Come on, then," she said. "If I mess up, you can gloat about being my first failure."

He glanced to Ratchet (stony-faced), then the holoscreens (busy with scrolling alien text), and at last Optimus. Miko wasn't sure if he was asking for permission or hoping to be rescued.

"The program will run on its own," Optimus said mildly, "will it not?"

"Yes," Starscream said, a little despairingly, "it will."

Miko began to shuffle backwards to the speakers, miming pulling a rope as she went. "C'mon, Screamer, c'mon!"

Starscream heaved a sigh and grudgingly followed her. Smokescreen trailed after them, a little way behind.

"First of all," Starscream said, leveling one finger at her as she sat down on a speaker, "stop calling me that."

"Alright," Miko said, and that got her a surprised look from the jet. "But I gotta find some nickname for you."

He eyeballed her suspiciously. "Why?"

"I nickname all my friends," Miko replied brightly, and steamrollered on before he could object. "How about Screamy?"

"No."

"Star?"

He flinched. "No."

"Screams!"

Starscream opened his mouth, then closed it again. "Not intolerable, I suppose," he said at last.

"Good enough for me!" Miko chirped.

He studied her for a moment before saying, "I'm not your friend."

"You let me nickname you," Miko pointed out.

"And I'm sure I'll come to regret it," he muttered.

"That's a problem for future you," Miko replied, and grinned when that got a startled cough of laughter from him.

Then he cleared his throat and crossed his arms. "Oh, get on with it, so I can get back to my important task." Turning his head, he stared pointedly at Optimus for the last bit. Optimus just gave him a bland smile. With a wordless grumble, Starscream returned his attention to Miko. "He's absolutely inscrutable," he said, too low for anyone but Miko to hear.

"You get used to it," Miko said, making a mental note to look up later exactly what 'inscrutable' meant. "Now," she continued, "first, I'm gonna teach you something."

"Must we drag this out?"

"Yes," Miko said. "You taught me something, so fair's fair!"

Starscream scoffed. "I seriously doubt you have any information that would be of use to me."

"Maybe not useful," Miko said, and cocked a set of finger guns at him. "But definitely fun."

"Fun," Starscream sneered.

"Yeah, you heard of it? Ever had any?"

His wings hiked up defensively. He opened his mouth to retort, thought better of it, and closed his mouth again. "Proceed," he said through gritted teeth.

"Hold your hand like this." She extended her index and pinky finger. Hesitantly, Starscream copied her. "Use your thumb to- yeah, you got it! Now stick out your tongue!"

His face crinkled in confusion, so Miko twisted her own face into a grimace and stuck her tongue out, holding her hand higher.

"That's ridiculous," he said.

"C'mooon!" she wheedled, shaking her horned fingers at him.

He muttered something probably mean under his breath. Then he glanced at Smokescreen, and shuffled slightly so his back was to the Autobot. Curling his upper lip, he stuck out his gunmetal grey tongue and held up his own viciously sharp horns.

Miko couldn't help it—she clapped in delight. He looked like he belonged on the cover of a heavy metal album or something. "Wicked!" she shouted.

"Absolutely idiotic," he huffed, his expression smoothing to disinterest as he crossed his arms again.

"No way, Screams! You looked totally hardcore!"

Starscream narrowed his eyes at her. "Is that… good?"

"It's the best! You're practically made to be punk." When he still seemed lost, she elaborated, "A rebel, a renegade! Sticking it to the man!"

"Who is 'the man'?" he asked. He was too far down the rabbit hole of bafflement now to even try feigning aloofness.

"Well, depending on your line of thinking, either an oppressive government or your parents," Miko said, tapping her chin in thought. "The man's someone to stand up against. When the man pushes you, you dig your heels in and say, 'Hell no!' Y'know?"

He cocked his head, clearly contemplating this, and then a sly smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "I believe that is something I can get behind."

"I knew you'd get it! Now for the actual music…" Miko scrolled through her Spotify account for a moment, then gave Starscream a calculating look. "You're, like, super old, right?"

"By your pathetic squishy standards, I suppose," he replied with a derisive sniff.

"No, he's pretty old by our standards, too," Ratchet interjected, and flashed his teeth in what could charitably be called a challenging grin when Starscream glared at him.

"Not like you're one to talk," Smokescreen joked.

Like a glacier drifting into the path of a cruise liner, Ratchet's gaze shifted to Smokescreen. "Now that I think of it," he said, "aren't you due for a full medical checkup?"

"Everyone shut up, I found a song!" Miko shouted, mostly to rescue Smokescreen from himself. He shot her a grateful look.

Starscream sighed and waved a hand. "Go on, sparkling. Wow me."

Miko grinned and plugged her phone into the speaker.

Almost as soon as the kids were out of his seats, Bulkhead went looking for Arcee. There weren't many places for a Cybertronian to be in the missile silo besides the main area—just the med bay and their quarters—so he headed right for her room. Sure enough, his knock on her door was greeted with a snappish, "What?"

"Just me," Bulkhead said.

After a moment, she grumbled, "It's unlocked."

That was as much of an invitation as he was going to get. He slid the door open and stepped inside, closing it behind him.

Arcee was sitting on her berth, back wedged into the corner of the room and knees pulled up to her chest. Her optics glowed sullenly in the darkness.

"You… wanna turn on a light or something?" Bulkhead asked.

"No," Arcee said. "Why are you here?"

Bulkhead rubbed his palms together. He wasn't great at stuff like this. "I'm checking in on a friend who's having a hard time right now."

"I'm fine."

He arched an eyebrow. "Uh, sure."

She scowled. "Why don't you go hang out with our new best friend, like everyone else?" Bulkhead couldn't begin formulating a response to that before she groaned and dragged a hand down her face. "Sorry," she said. "You're right. I'm not…"

Bulkhead shuffled over and sat on the opposite end of her berth. "You wanna talk?"

Arcee didn't respond at first. "It's…" she said at last, her gaze fixed on the far wall. "It's good he's here, right? He gave the keys to us instead of Megatron. He's showing us how to track the Nemesis. That's good, isn't it?" She said 'good' like it was acid on her tongue.

He looked at her, then looked away. "Yeah," he said. "Feels bad, though."

She closed her optics, her shoulders sagging in relief. "Optimus doesn't get it," she said softly. "He understands why I'm upset. He listens. But it's like he's looking at something bigger than all of us here. He doesn't get it."

"He's the Prime. Bigger stuff is what he's for." Bulkhead slid a hand across the berth towards her, palm up. "But you've got the rest of us, too. Believe me, I get it. Cliff might not've been my partner, but he was still my friend."

Slowly, Arcee slipped her hand into his. "We don't talk much about the mechs we've lost, do we," she murmured.

They'd held a funeral for Cliffjumper, of course. His name had come up in discussions, every now and then. But the war had been so long, and so many had died. They all did their best to remember everyone who was gone, but Bulkhead couldn't shake the creeping suspicion that there were a few who had been forgotten.

"We used to," Arcee said. "We should start again."

"Yeah," Bulkhead replied. A pang shot through his spark, and his hand curled reflexively tighter around hers as he realized he wasn't sure he could stand losing even one more person. "You wanna start now?"

She held him tighter, too. "Yeah," she said.

Somewhere in the base, music started to play.

Miko loved music. She loved listening to it, playing it, learning about it—everything. As a result, while she had her own unique preferences, she knew a lot of music outside of that. Even if she didn't personally like it, she at least knew about it.

She also loved sharing music, and the fact that the Autobots were literal aliens who had never heard Earth music before coming to this planet… well, when she'd first had that realization, she might have gone a little overboard with the music recs. She'd never admit it, but maybe Optimus was kind of justified in his "no more than two new songs per bot per day" rule. Anyway, after the first couple of weeks, the impulse to constantly play music for them died down to something more controllable. It had gotten easier once she'd gotten a handle on what each of them preferred, too—that way she could just make them individual playlists that they could listen to whenever they wanted.

(Her findings: Smokescreen liked literally anything he could bop or bang his head to, with a particular inclination towards ska. Arcee was much pickier, but she liked most classical music and chiptunes. Ratchet liked classic rock and swing, when she could get him to admit to liking anything. Bee liked a lot of techno, loved Vocaloid. Optimus mostly just seemed to humor her, but she'd gotten a reaction from him with Johnny Cash. Bulkhead liked listening to the music she liked, but had guiltily confessed to a fondness for ballads and sappy love songs—Miko didn't see the appeal, but he'd looked so nervous about telling her that she didn't tease him.)

Now, she'd have to start making a playlist for Starscream too, because she was pretty sure she'd hit right on the money when she played Highway to Hell. He scowled the whole time, his arms folded across his chest, but his left wing flicked to the beat all the way through.

"I hated it," he said as soon as the song finished.

"Hm," Miko said, tilting her head. "You could've asked me to turn it off."

He opened his mouth, closed it. "Whatever," he growled, spinning on his heel and stalking back to his work station.

"Any time, Screams!" she called after him, plugging her guitar back into the amp.

Smokescreen sidled closer and crouched next to her. "Um," he said quietly. "Can I ask you something?"

"Yeah, shoot," Miko replied, looking up at him.

He glanced around, as if to make sure no one else was listening in. Ratchet and Optimus were watching Starscream, Raf was doing homework, Jack was scrolling on his phone, and Bulkhead and Arcee were still absent. "You're like. Friendly. Uh. With Starscream. Um." His hands squeezed his knees. "Should I be nice to him also? Not that I haven't been," he added hastily. "Nice, I mean. It's just. Everyone but Optimus is kinda weird around him. And I haven't really been here that long? So I don't get, like, the history. And stuff." His fingers clenched and unclenched in an anxious rhythm. "And I don't wanna ask about what I should do and make things even more tense. You know?"

Miko reached out and knocked on his shin. "Hey, Smokey. Relax? Breathe."

He blinked, and she heard a couple of gusts of air whoosh through his vents. "Right. Sorry."

"Don't be," she replied. "Things are weird right now." She knew he was thousands of years old or whatever, but often it really felt like Smokescreen was just another teenager. An older teenager, one who was maybe in college or something already, but a teenager nonetheless. "You should do whatever you think the right thing to do is. If that's different from what the rest of the 'Bots are doing, that's fine. If everyone did the same thing all the time, nothing interesting would ever happen."

Smokescreen turned that over in his head, then nodded. "You're right," he said. "Thanks."

"No problem," Miko replied. "Hey, you wanna hear what I'm working on?"

Smokescreen grinned.

After Raf was done with his homework, the three of them played video games. Starscream watched them for a little bit, hovering near Miko's end of the couch. When she got the opportunity to glance at him, she saw his expression was almost completely blank except for the slight draw between his eyebrows. Eventually, he wandered away again.

When it was time to go, Miko ran up to Starscream, who was once again at the screens under the watchful eye of Ratchet. "Yo, Screams! Before I bounce, gimme your digits."

Starscream steepled his claws in front of his mouth. "I understand what those words mean individually, but the message eludes me."

"She wants communicator access with you," Ratchet said, with a warning look at Miko, "which I am going to deny."

Miko gave Ratchet a pleading look. "I have links to all the other Autobots."

"He's not an Autobot," Ratchet said, at the same time Starscream said, "I'm not an Autobot." They glared at each other.

"Whatever," Miko said. "C'mon, Docbot, please?"

"Why do you even want his comm link?" Ratchet asked.

"To give him some more music recs," Miko replied with an innocent smile.

Starscream groaned. Ratchet looked between the two of them, clearly recalling how much Miko had annoyed him with the same exact thing. "Well," he said eventually. "If that's all."

Miko held out her phone with a triumphant grin. Appealing to Ratchet's petty side worked every time. Ratchet took her phone to work his science on it, and Starscream stared at her with suspicion as Ratchet handed it back to her.

"Sweet," Miko said. "See you guys later!"

Ratchet grunted and waved her off, his usual farewell.

"Yes," Starscream said slowly, still watching her. "Be seeing you."

It was almost midnight, and Miko was still awake, playing a mindless matching game on her phone, when she got a text notification.

Are you in recharge?

Miko grinned. heyy screams!

I'll take that as a no.

cant sleep?

I have a question for you.

and it couldnt wait til morning?

No. In the morning, there will be Autobots watching my every move and listening to everything I say to you. And I want honesty from you, honesty which an audience will not encourage.

wats ur point

I want to know what your game is.

…mario kart?

No! Not whatever blasted virtual entertainment you waste your limited processor space on! I want to know why you seem so set on cozying up to me. I've been playing along in front of the Autobots in order to foster an atmosphere of goodwill, but I am NOT fooled.

It was interesting that Starscream would refer to his showy reluctance and constant grumbling as "playing along," but Miko decided not to comment on it. Instead, she typed, r u freaking out bc im being nice 2 u

I am not "freaking out." I am deeply suspicious of your abrupt change in attitude. Did one of the Autobots put you up to this? Why?

no one put me up to anything dude im just being nice

I don't believe you. Something else is going on.

Miko frowned, drumming her fingers on her mattress as she debated her next response. ok so like op talked to me

OP… Optimus?! I should have known. He can't leave well enough alone, can he?

inb4 u jump to any wild conclusions he didnt tell me to like spy on u or watever u think is happening
he just said some stuff that made me think abt some other stuff

What in the All-Spark is that supposed to mean?

he said u should b treated w compassion and im starting to realize that like ur just a dude and even tho u do a lot of bad stuff and u hurt ppl maybe theres a reason ur like that? im not scheming ur downfall lol i just wanna get 2 kno u

All of Starscream's other responses had come quickly, but now the minutes dragged on without a reply. She started to wonder if he was going to say anything at all, or if she'd just totally blown it. Then:

Don't patronize me.

huh?

I don't want to play nice. I don't want you to "get 2 kno" me. I'm not here to listen to garbage music and make absurd facial expressions. You've made a pet of the ex-Wrecker, but you won't make one of me.

bulky is my friend

And. I. Am. Not.

u could b tho

I don't want to.

ok

What?

thats fine
if u want me to leave u alone i will
but

Here, Miko stopped. Even though Starscream's position in the Autobot base was a fragile one, he was still abrasive at best. He continually found ways to express his irritation or displeasure, and he had to be dragged kicking and screaming into doing anything he didn't want to do. And Miko was far, far too small to drag Starscream anywhere.

But?

The fact that he was prompting her only confirmed her suspicions.

but i don't think u actually want me to

What on this disgusting mudball of a planet gave you that idea?

idk
tell me to and ill leave u alone

The silence went on long enough that Miko eventually took it as tacit permission. Rubbing it in wouldn't do any good, though, so she just sent him a last, quick message.

nite screams

This time, his response was instantaneous.

I despise the way you type.

Miko sighed, letting her phone fall from her hand before she rolled over. Slowly, fitfully, sleep took her.

It was 2:30 a.m., and Smokescreen was occupying himself by tapping his thumb in a rhythm against his fingertips. It was an old trick he'd picked up while guarding Iacon Tower—if he needed to fidget unnoticed, he could keep his hands at his sides or behind his back while connecting his thumb to his index finger, then middle, and so on, then back the other way. It was almost meditative, the rhythm allowing him to disconnect his mind and let time just slip past him, rather than being agonizingly aware of each second that ticked by. A half-formed thought drifted through his processor about how he'd crossed a mind-boggling amount of space just to end up standing guard again.

He paused with this thumb on his pinky when he heard movement from inside Starscream's room. There were the familiar clicking footsteps, and then the door slid open and Starscream poked his head out. "You again," he said. The words sounded like they should have been hostile, but the tone didn't quite manage it.

"Uh," Smokescreen said. "Hey. What's up?"

"My program pinged me," Starscream replied. "Am I allowed to check on it?"

"I told you, you can do what you want," Smokescreen said. He wasn't sure why Starscream acting like he expected to be mistreated made Smokescreen so uncomfortable. But then, Smokescreen hadn't been on Earth, or even part of the fighting, for very long. He didn't really have anything personal against Starscream, and the other bots did. There was probably a reason he did so much of the daytime Starscream-sitting. His brief talk with Miko had made him feel a bit better about it all, but he still felt like he was on the edge of some weird precipice. Shaking himself out of his thoughts, he added, "But, like, I still gotta go with you."

"Your vigilance is truly commendable," Starscream drawled, stepping out into the hall. "Come along, then."

Smokescreen rolled his optics, but he followed Starscream into the main hub and over to the holoscreens. He didn't really understand any of the science behind what Starscream was doing—something about radio waves and cloaking shields and frequencies—so he idly went back to tapping his fingers.

After working at the computer for a minute, Starscream's hands paused over the controls. "The funny thing," he said, with a crooked smile. He wasn't looking at Smokescreen, not really, but the smile felt directed at him anyway. "The funny thing about being built, about standing in a line of mechs who look like you, were made like you, are meant for the same thing as you… It just makes you more determined to stand out, doesn't it?"

Smokescreen was slow to process this, but when he did, his optics widened in surprise. "Are you cold constructed?"

"What a rude question," Starscream replied dryly. "Anyway, you should wake the others. I've located the Nemesis."

Chapter Text

Miko hated homeroom. Really, she hated everything about school, but homeroom was a special level of hell. Either the teacher came up with some stupid pointless project, or he made everyone do their homework. Like, if she was gonna do her homework in the first place, she'd have just done it at home, right? But here, she had to pretend to do it while some nosy old guy looked over her shoulder every now and then. Absolute torture.

Determined to do nothing productive by Mr. Merrill's standards, she opened her literature textbook to make it look like she was reading and then held her phone below her desk. hey screams! hows it goin?

There was a brief moment, and then the reply, Go away.

Miko sighed, propping her cheek on her fist as she typed one-handed, if u rlly do wanna b friends its a 2way street my dude

Ugh.

Miko waited.

At last: I'm fine. How are you?

She could practically hear the gritted teeth, and she swallowed a laugh. im BORED, she replied. school is the WORST

Having an education was a privilege back on Cybertron. You should consider yourself lucky.

gross u sound like ratchet

That might be the worst thing anyone's ever said to me.

sorry lmao. water u up to?

Well, my frankly superb work on creating a program to discover the location of the Nemesis has finally come to fruition. Arcee and I boarded the ship just a few moments ago.

oh nice job! am i distracting u tho?

I can run five separate tactical algorithms at once. A little small talk is well within my capabilities.

So showing off trumped grouchiness. Good to know. how is it being back on ur old ship?

Stealth missions are high stress, but, if successful, largely uneventful. Nothing interesting to note. Well, except… Did you know that Smokescreen left Knock Out stuck in a wall?

That wasn't really an answer, but he was still talking to her, so she took it as a win anyway. yeah lol

They had to cut him out. There's still a hole in the med bay.

omg
i bet doc knock was PISSED

Hm. Actually, there is something you can help me with.

yeah?

Arcee. Working with her is difficult to navigate. Advice?

Well, that was a hell of a can of worms to open up this early in the morning, but she wasn't going to lie to him. u could always start by apologizing 4 killing her partner

An insincere apology is likely to create more problems than it solves.

uh… then mean it?

Ha! Or should I say "lol"?

Miko's brow furrowed. im not kidding

I know. It's ludicrous to suggest that I feel legitimately SORRY for killing an enemy combatant in the course of doing my job. Were our positions reversed, I have little doubt he would have snuffed my spark in an instant.

look man. u asked my advice. thats all i got 4 u

I just need something to grease the wheels! Make things run a little smoother! Maybe blackmail? Do you have any dirt on her?

screams NO
if ur not gonna apologize at least like
idk dont actively antagonize her

Relax, sparkling, I was just jokinl&f!d*

Miko stared at the garbled message for a moment before sending, ??

No response.

screams?

Nothing.

starscream!

"Miss Nakadai," said a flat voice behind her, and she nearly jumped out of her skin. "Phone away, please. I'd rather not start this week off by sending you to the principal."

Miko realized she was gripping her phone so tightly her knuckles were white. She took a moment to reorient herself before saying, "Sorry, Mr. Merrill," and shoving the phone into her bag.

If her teacher seemed surprised by her unusual contriteness, he didn't say anything—he just nodded and moved on.

Heart pounding in her ears, she stared blankly at the pages of the textbook in front of her. She was going to have to wait the half hour until class was over before she could begin even trying to find out what had happened. Maybe, before then, her phone would buzz in her backpack and she could convince herself that it was Starscream telling her everything was fine. That Arcee was fine. That he was fine.

Miko swallowed, clenched her hands in her lap, and waited.

[four hours earlier]

"Soundwave keeps the sensors tuned for groundbridge activity within eight kilometers of the ship," Starscream said, facing the assembled Autobots, "so we should aim for a location at least nine kilometers away. Air traffic within that range is closely monitored as well, so Arcee and I will need to walk until we are below the ship. The Nemesis is eastbound, so we can cut the some of the travel short by bridging into its projected path. Once on the ship, there are two vaults that Megatron keeps his valuables in, located on opposite sides of the stern. One is on a lower deck than the other, so we'll start there. If we must, we can use the storage areas scattered throughout this section of the ship to move unseen, though there are a couple of stretches where we have to risk the hallways. After we have the Forge, we'll exit through the side of the ship, return to the ground, and walk until we are once more out of range. Questions?"

"Uh, yeah," Bulkhead said, raising his hand. "Once you've got it, why bother walking again? We can just bridge you right out of there."

"We don't want the Decepticons to know we've come or gone," Ratchet said before Starscream could answer with something unpleasant. "The spacebridge is going to put out a massive energy spike when we use it—the shielding in this base is enough to cover for a groundbridge, but the 'Cons will know what we've done, as well as our base's location, as soon as we do it. We don't want them to be aware that we're up to anything until the last possible moment."

Bulkhead started to ask another question, and Ratchet held up his hand. "We'll worry about everything else once we actually have a spacebridge," the medic said. "One step at a time."

Arcee stood off to the side, her arms crossed tightly. Starscream's plan was a solid one, as much as she hated to admit it. There was just one massive problem: she was going to have to be alone with Starscream for an extended period of time without causing him grievous bodily harm.

But it was fine.

She could do this.

She had to do this.

She couldn't do this.

"-thought my days of wandering on foot through organic hellscapes were over," Starscream was grumbling, fifteen minutes after they'd stepped through the groundbridge together and ten minutes after he'd begun to gripe.

"Do you," Arcee hissed, "ever stop complaining?"

"Only when I run out of things to complain about," Starscream replied with an airy wave of his claws. "But that hasn't happened yet."

Arcee stopped, whipping about to face him. "If you don't shut up," she snarled, "I will rip out your Primus-damned vocalizer."

"I'm sure that's against the Autobot code somewhere," Starscream said faintly, but he also didn't say anything else after that.

Satisfied she wouldn't have to hear his voice anymore until they reached the ship, Arcee started walking again. Neither of them wanted to have their back to the other, so they ended up moving more or less side-by-side, awkwardly navigating the trees while still trying to keep a visual on each other.

It was lucky that the Nemesis was in a heavily-forested area, since that made it easier to approach unnoticed. It also provided plenty of other things to focus on besides the fact that she was on a mission with the mech who hadn't just killed Cliffjumper, but had participated in the mutilation of his corpse-

Focus. She couldn't let her anger get the better of her.

She'd been talking to June a lot, lately. It had started off simple, just coordinating with each other about where Jack was, who would be picking him up, that sort of thing. Arcee couldn't remember how the topic had eventually strayed from him, but she'd found June to be a pleasant conversation partner. And the more they talked, the easier Arcee found it to tell June more personal things. Things like how quickly anger came to her, how it often felt good and right and simple. It made the moment feel clean and clear, like there was only one path to take, no hard decisions—and then she'd regret it, later, because she did something stupid or dangerous.

June had smiled in sympathy, and taught Arcee some breathing exercises.

Weirdly, it worked. Not in the same way it did for humans, probably, but focusing on the cycle of her vents gave her something else to think about. Arcee had experimented with it, and found that running internal diagnostics and external scans had a similar effect. Taking a moment to stop, to check in on herself and around herself, put just enough space between her thoughts and her emotions to prevent her anger from taking control.

By the time they were below the Nemesis, she'd run ten full diagnostics on her systems that were so thorough Ratchet would have been impressed. But it worked. She hadn't killed Starscream.

Yet.

Starscream stopped, peering up into the cloudy sky. "I won't be able to tell exactly where the first vault is until we have a visual on the ship."

Arcee activated the phase shifter on her wrist. "Let's go, then."

He gave her a wary look, then transformed. She wasn't nearly small enough to fit into his cockpit, so she had to take the undignified position of lying on top of him, gripping the leading edges of his wings and bracing her feet against his horizontal stabilizers.

"Comfortable?" he asked, his tone conveying a slag-eating grin where his face could not.

"Are you?" she spat back.

"Not particularly," he replied. "Just wanted to make sure you weren't, either."

"Go," Arcee growled.

Wisely declining to say anything else, he went. Arcee clenched her jaw and tried not to flinch as they accelerated through the trees, passing directly through the trunks and the leafy canopy. Then they were shooting straight up, slicing into the thick, grey clouds. Water ran in rivulets over Arcee's plating; she closed her vents to keep the condensation out and tightened her hold on Starscream. The hulking silhouette of the Nemesis abruptly came into view, and Starscream dipped into a gentle course correction, bringing them along the dark underbelly. He pinged her a glyph for << ready? >>

She pinged back an affirmative, and he twisted up through the hull. Arcee suppressed another flinch—Smokescreen made casually passing through solid matter look so easy, but she couldn't help feeling the need to brace for impact.

Within seconds, Starscream pulled to a sharp halt, transforming as he stopped and catching her before she was thrown through the next wall. She shoved away from him as soon as her feet were on solid ground again, her processor spinning as she reestablished equilibrium. It was official: she hated flying.

By the time she felt steady, Starscream had already given the vault a once-over. "It's not here," he said.

Arcee looked around to confirm, then opened the data packet that contained a map of the Nemesis and their projected route to the next vault. Starscream had basically given them the keys to the warship along with the keys to Cybertron, so that was another upside to this uneasy alliance. She held onto those kinds of thoughts as she grabbed him by the elbow and dragged him through the wall.

He bit back a squawk of protest at the manhandling and fell into step with her. Sneaking through the Nemesis together was surprisingly tolerable, mostly because they didn't need to communicate with each other except through brief pings as they followed a predetermined path.

Unfortunately, they did need to go up a deck, in an area where there was one storage closet directly above another. They stood in the cramped room for a moment, knowing what they needed to do and neither of them happy about it.

"Come on, then," Starscream said at last, crouching to her level and holding out his arms.

Tanks roiling, she climbed into his grip. He straightened up, holding her firmly against his chassis with one arm under her knees and another around her back. Her plating crawled where it pressed to his.

Then he fired the antigrav thrusters in his heels—not a standard feature in an F-16, but fairly ubiquitous in Cybertronian flight frames, designed for hovering in alt mode. The low thrum of them could be easily mistaken for the Nemesis' humming engines. They wobbled a few feet off the floor as Starscream adjusted to her added weight, then shot up through the ceiling and landed on the next floor with a graceless stumble. He put her down as quickly as he could without just dropping her.

She immediately stepped away from him, resisting the urge to scrub her hands over her plating. This storage closet was full of medical supplies, which made sense; they were about to pass by the med bay. She briefly contemplated stealing some supplies, but without input from Ratchet, the odds of getting something he actually wanted or needed weren't high. Best to stay on-mission.

Arcee stuck her head through the wall to check for guards, then pulled Starscream through with her. They crept along the hallway, and Arcee noticed a mech-sized hole in the wall of the med bay. She couldn't hold back a snicker, and Starscream sent her an inquisitive ping.

::Smokescreen stuck Knock Out in a wall,:: Arcee replied through comms. ::Guess they had to cut him out.::

Starscream smirked.

They continued in silence for a few more moments, having to momentarily divert their course to duck out of sight as a patrol approached. While they were hiding, Starscream's wings flicked in surprise, and it was Arcee's turn to send a questioning ping.

::Miko is attempting to start a conversation with me,:: he commed back.

She glared at him and shook her head. He rolled his optics.

The patrol passed, and they resumed their course. As they got closer and closer to their destination, Starscream taking the lead as they snuck through the halls, Arcee started to hope that maybe this mission was actually going to go off without a hitch.

And then Starscream poked his head around the next corner and said, "Ghk."

"What?" Arcee asked, but Starscream was backing up slowly, wings dropping as he shrunk in on himself.

Megatron stepped into view.

Arcee swore, but before she could bring up her blasters, a pair of hands grabbed each of her arms, another hand plucking the phase shifter off her wrist, and oh frag where did those Vehicons come from. She yanked at their grip, testing their strength as she got ready to fight.

Then she got a hurried ping from Starscream. << stand down let me think >>

"Starscream," Megatron said, low and dangerous. "Did you really think you could creep around my ship unnoticed?"

Starscream stooped into a bow. "Of course not, Master," he replied. "In fact, I knew you would find me."

Arcee pinged Starscream three times in rapid succession, transmitting wordless fury.

<< stand down stand down >> was the only reply she got, tight with panic. Locking her jaw, she didn't fully stand down, but she stopped struggling against the Vehicons. Two on each side of her, and her sensors picked up three more behind her, one of which was probably holding the phase shifter—not to mention fragging Megatron right there. This wasn't a situation she could fight her way out of alone.

"Really," Megatron said as he towered over Starscream's cringing frame, his voice thick with patronizing doubt.

"Really," Starscream said, his wings stilling after an aborted twitch. "I've convinced the Autobots to trust me, and I know where their base is now. I brought this one to you under the guise of a stealth mission, as proof that my intentions are true."

"You slimy little-!" Arcee snarled, and got another << stand down >> when she jerked against the Vehicons' hold on her.

"And just how did you get the Autobots to trust you?" Megatron asked, optics narrowed.

"I- I suppose trust is a strong word, my lord," Starscream said with a sickly smile. "But I managed to make them believe our interests were aligned. And now, thanks to my efforts, you already have one of them in your grasp. I can give you the rest."

Megatron studied Starscream carefully, Starscream wilting a little more with each passing moment of silence. Then he gestured to the Vehicon holding the phase shifter; it stepped around Arcee and brought the artifact to Megatron, who turned it over in his hands. "Then report," he said at last.

Starscream perked up. "As we suspected, the Autobots are working closely with the United States government. So closely, in fact, that they operate out of a human military base close to a small town in Arizona. I can provide you with the precise coordinates in a full debrief."

That was far, far too close to the truth for Arcee's comfort—but it still wasn't the truth. "No!" Arcee shouted with a brief, showy struggle against the Vehicons, and she prayed that playing along was the right move.

"Whether your intel is any good remains to be seen," Megatron said, ignoring her in favor of keeping his attention on Starscream. "Kill the Autobot."

"Master, if I may ask— my position beside you," Starscream began, and stopped when Megatron grabbed him by the throat, clawtips pricking against the delicate plating.

"Remains to be seen," Megatron repeated, leaning in close with his teeth bared.

Starscream's vocalizer clicked a couple of times before he managed, "Of course, my lord."

"Now," Megatron said, letting Starscream go, "kill her."

"Yes, my lord," Starscream answered dutifully.

High alert threw the scene before her into stark clarity—Megatron, holding the phase shifter in his stolen right hand, the corner of his mouth twisted up in a cruel, pleased sneer; Starscream, on Megatron's left, raising his right arm as it transformed into a blaster, expressionless. And as the barrel leveled at her, she held onto that last tiny scrap of hope, that Starscream had lied about the base's location.

She kept her optics open, never one to flinch in the face of danger or give up on looking for a way out, and that was why she saw exactly what happened next: just as Starscream finished aiming at her, he instead snapped the blaster across Megatron's chest and fired point-blank at his former leader's elbow. The joint was obliterated, the forearm and the phase shifter clattering to the floor, and Megatron's remaining hand clamped down over Starscream's blaster. Metal screeched and twisted as Megatron's fist closed, and Starscream shrieked through a clenched jaw.

Arcee was already moving before the arm hit the floor. She dropped, using her weight to pull the two Vehicons towards each other—they knocked heads, disorienting them just enough for their grips to loosen, and she wrenched free. Diving for the phase shifter, she pulled it from fingers still twitching with phantom electricity and clapped it back onto her wrist. Then, before the Vehicons could open fire or Megatron could finish his attempt to rip Starscream's arm off, she grabbed Starscream's ankle and dropped through the floor.

The two of them hit the deck below with a clatter. Arcee landed in a crouch and immediately straightened up; Starscream's knees gave out under him, and he crumpled to the floor.

"On your feet," Arcee said. "We have to get to the vault and get out of here."

Starscream propped himself up on his undamaged arm, shaking slightly. His vents came harsh and heavy in the quiet hallway. The crushed barrel of his blaster sparked and fizzled.

"Can you transform?" Arcee asked. Any second, alarms would blare and this hall would be swarming with guards. She couldn't leave him behind. Wouldn't. She needed him in order to complete the mission. She needed to not make the same mistakes again.

He didn't reply, but he bent a few strips of metal back into place and transformed his arm. There was an unpleasant grinding noise, and his hand didn't fully form. Still, he pushed himself to his feet. "Close enough," he said, and switched to alt mode. Arcee thought she heard an unnatural twang. "The jig is up," he said. "Let's take the fast way."

Arcee swung her leg over his fuselage and held on. His engines gunned, and the next few seconds passed in a flickering blur as they sped through hall after hall and wall after wall. Arcee squeezed her optics shut to ease the vertigo—Starscream must have been navigating purely by telemetry. She'd counted four seconds when he swung around into a full stop. Her tanks lurched, and she opened her optics.

This vault was smaller than the last, and the only thing in it was the Forge, resting on a pedestal inside a glass case. Arcee slid off Starscream, and he transformed, cradling his half-formed arm to his abdomen. She reached through the glass and hauled the Forge out. "Ratchet," she said into her comm. "We need a quick exit at our coordinates."

"Coming right up," Ratchet replied.

"And have your medkit ready," she added. "Starscream's injured."

"Copy," Ratchet said. A groundbridge portal opened to their left, and the room was washed in red as the alarms went off.

Arcee heaved the Forge over her shoulder, and nearly lost her balance under the weight of it. Starscream's good hand shot out to the grab the head of the hammer, steadying both it and her. "Alright," she said, because she couldn't bring herself to thank him for anything. "Let's go."

Together, they stepped through the portal.

Ratchet worked quickly and deftly, centuries of practice as a field medic allowing him to tune out the organized chaos in the main area as he set the delicate machinery of Starscream's arm back into place. "I don't have time to make sure the blaster itself is working properly," he said as he leveled out one last strip of metal, "so I'm going to recommend you stay behind with me. I don't want you going into battle on Cybertron without your full armaments."

"Concerned for me?" Starscream said, but his spark clearly wasn't in it enough to manage a full sneer. "How touching."

"I'm more concerned for the mechs you'd be fighting alongside," Ratchet replied. "Transform to the blaster and back."

Staring blankly at the far wall, Starscream obeyed. The sequence went smoothly, with no odd clicking sounds to warn of future problems.

"Anyway, I might need help here if we have to scrub the base ahead of schedule," Ratchet added, taking Starscream's hand and testing the flexibility of the finger joints.

Starscream's gaze flicked to Ratchet. "You trust me for that?"

"Not that I have much choice about it, but sure," Ratchet said. "I heard Arcee's report. You had the chance to hand us over to Megatron, and you didn't take it. I'm still trying to figure out what game you're really playing, but at this point I figure it's not one that's gonna benefit the Decepticons. For now, that's enough." He finished with the fingers and rotated Starscream's wrist.

Starscream watched, silent and tense, as Ratchet continued his joint checks. Every now and then, his optics shifted warily to where Optimus was coordinating over by the holoscreens.

"I also like that you took Megatron's arm off," Ratchet added. "When I have the chance to be bored again, I'll pass the time by picturing it."

That got a faint smile from Starscream. "Yes," he said. "It was quite satisfying."

"I punched him in the face a few months ago," Ratchet said. He wasn't prone to talking about his adventures in combat, especially since he so rarely participated in combat, but there was something… off about Starscream. His attention kept switching between Ratchet, Optimus, and the exits; every wire in his frame was pulled taut, yet he was holding almost perfectly still; and he wasn't complaining loudly about the massive inconvenience of having his arm nearly ripped off and being unable to access one of his blasters. Ratchet held no love in his spark for Starscream, but he was a medic, dammit, and Starscream was his patient now. He had several lines of code chanting heal fix repair at him, but this wasn't—this wasn't something that was fixable, not right now, not by Ratchet. Still, he tried to alleviate the problem. "Wasn't exactly my proudest moment, but I'll be damned if it didn't feel good."

A small huff that could have been a laugh. "I'd have liked to see that," Starscream said, but he didn't relax even a little.

Ratchet released his arm. "Alright, you're good to go."

Starscream hesitated. Ratchet wondered if there was a certain kind of safety that came from being in a medic's care after a mission that could have gone better. "Listen," Ratchet said. "You're in Autobot territory, alright? We do things different here."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Starscream said.

Ratchet pinched the bridge of his chevron. If Starscream was going to be willfully obtuse, he wasn't sure he wanted to bother. "When you left with Arcee, part of me thought I was never going to see her again," he said anyway. "I thought that the nanoklik you got the opportunity to serve us up to Megatron, you were going to take it, because that's what you do. But you didn't. She's home safe. You're not irreparably damaged. We have the Forge. As far as I'm concerned, the mission was a resounding success."

Starscream stared past Ratchet. "I don't care what you think," he said tightly.

"Fine, whatever," Ratchet said, throwing up his hands in exasperation. "But I can't stand your twitching, so I will say this: that could have been the most disastrous mission you'd ever pulled, and Optimus still wouldn't even begin to consider raising a hand against you for it. He's not Megatron."

Starscream's face went blank, and Ratchet realized belatedly that the flier wasn't being willfully obtuse—and also, possibly, that Starscream had only been paying the bare minimum of attention to what Ratchet was saying. Now, Starscream took a moment to reevaluate the conversation he'd just been having, and then he bristled. "Mind your own business, medic," he growled.

"As long as you're on my table, it's my business," Ratchet said, and held up a hand to block Starscream when he tried to get off the table in response. "You haven't been recharging enough since you got here, and you definitely weren't recharging enough while you were out on your own. You're three decacycles overdue for a proper defrag, and you have a metric ton of old injuries that never healed quite right. You wanna stay off my table? Then sort your issues and start taking better care of yourself."

Starscream looked at Ratchet's hand, then Optimus, then a vague point somewhere over Ratchet's shoulder. "Very well," he said, and Ratchet held back a sigh. He'd treated enough mechs who would rather die than discuss a single emotion they were having to know when he was being pacified. This was the best he was going to get, so he dropped his hand and stepped aside.

If Starscream wanted to run himself into the ground, fine. Ratchet just hoped he wasn't going to take any of the Autobots down with him when he crashed.

"I've got a patch that can help with the recharging, at least," Ratchet said, because Starscream was still sitting there, for whatever reason.

"I'll think about it," Starscream lied primly, and stood up.

"Agent Fowler," Optimus said as soon as the call connected. "How is the secondary base coming along?"

"It's empty," Fowler replied, "which is the best you're gonna get on this kind of notice, Prime. I don't have the time or resources to shield it."

"I understand," Optimus said. It was unfortunate—they wouldn't be able to bridge directly there to escape without the risk of immediately giving away its position—but it was also expected. He'd hoped for more time, but he hadn't been counting on it. "Thank you for your efforts."

"So what's going on over there?" Fowler asked.

"We will be traveling to Cybertron within the next hour," Optimus replied. "However, Megatron is aware of our movements, and will likely follow us there. We hope that he will be too focused on Cybertron to coordinate an attack on our base here on Earth; however, please be on alert for any communiques from Ratchet. He will be keeping an eye on things here, and if events do not go according to plan, we may need your assistance."

"Anything I can do besides twiddle my thumbs and wait for your call?"

"You have done plenty. Thank you for everything, Agent Fowler."

"Don't make it sound like a goodbye, Prime. Win or lose, I expect to be covering for you for a long, long time, you hear?"

Fowler was, at the most inopportune times, uncannily perceptive. Optimus couldn't deny he felt a certain finality hanging over him. If Megatron won the upcoming battle, he wouldn't let any of them live. And if the Autobots won… He'd calculated severable variables for that outcome, and none of them included him remaining in charge—alive or dead. Usually dead, as the paths he tracked to victory counted his own life as the only acceptable loss. And on the slim chance he did live to see the end of the war, he planned on dissolving the Prime as a position of political leadership. The Primacy had never served its citizens well. He'd hoped to change that, when he'd been awarded the Matrix, and the end result had been a war that destroyed their world. So he'd decided that, one way or another, there would be no more Primes after him.

"Of course," Optimus said. "I will speak with you later."

"Yeah," Fowler said. "You'd better." There was a pause, and then, as soft as his voice ever got, he added, "Good luck."

"You as well," Optimus replied, and ended the call. He checked the location of the Nemesis—it had changed course and was headed for the west coast of the U.S., but it was still a few hours away. They would have to move quickly. But first…

He turned away from the console in time to see Starscream rise from Ratchet's examination seat, flexing his hand experimentally. "Starscream," he said. "May I have a word?"

Starscream froze, his wings rising in alarm before dropping as he hunched in on himself. "Of course," he said.

A frown passed over Ratchet's face, but the medic turned away and began to pack up his tools. Optimus was all too aware of the presence of the other Autobots around them. Each was busy with their own prep work, but this was still too public an area for the conversation he wanted to have.

"If you would follow me," Optimus said, and Starscream dipped his head in a shallow nod.

Optimus led the way to the elevator, Starscream skittering along nervously behind him. The ride up to the top of the mesa was agonizingly silent, but Optimus didn't look at Starscream. He didn't want the other mech to feel scrutinized. When the lift came to a stop, Optimus stepped away, headed towards the edge. Starscream followed with quick, short steps.

"Starscream," Optimus said, turning to face him at last.

Immediately, Starscream dropped to one knee, bowing his head. "I'm sorry," he said. His wings were shaking, pinned down so close to his back they clattered faintly against the plating beneath them. "I haven't been easy to work with. Your movements were revealed to the enemy. I'll do better."

"Please," Optimus said, gently. "Stand."

Starscream's wings stilled, but in an awful and tense sort of way.

"You're not in trouble," Optimus said. "I did not bring you up here to berate you. The mission's problems were not your fault. I wanted… I wanted to thank you."

Starscream lifted his head to look at Optimus with a combination of wariness and incredulity. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. "Thank me?" he asked eventually, voice small and bewildered.

"Yes," Optimus said. "Your assistance has been invaluable. If you hadn't given us the keys, or helped us locate and infiltrate the Nemesis, the road to restoring our home world would have been far murkier."

Starscream stared at Optimus like he'd sprouted a second head. "I stole the keys," he said. "I only gave them back for my own gain. I'm only here for my own reasons."

"And yet," Optimus said, extending a hand to him, "you are here."

Starscream's wings flared. He scrambled onto his feet and took a few unsteady steps back. "I'm barely civil," he said. "I'm a conniving backstabber. I'll never be sorry for killing Cliffjumper."

"Yes," Optimus replied, letting his hand return to his side. "I know. Still, I'm grateful you've allied yourself with us, for however long you decide to stay."

"That's glitched," Starscream said with vehement conviction. "You're glitched." He shuffled backwards towards the elevator, as though he thought Optimus would attack him if he looked away. "Can I- Are we done? Can I go?"

"You are free to do as you wish," Optimus said. He hoped that, if he said it enough times, Starscream would start believing him.

It seemed, however, that Starscream wasn't about to start now. The Seeker hesitated with his hands over the controls to the elevator. After a few moments, once it became clear that Optimus wasn't going to move or say anything else, Starscream activated the lift. Slowly, he sunk out of sight, watching Optimus suspiciously the whole time.

Optimus sighed, allowing his gaze to drift across the desert as he counted down the amount of time it would take for the elevator to reach the bottom. In the meantime, he appreciated the view. It was incredible how even the most desolate places on this planet managed to be beautiful. He regretted having to leave it behind, but he would regret it more if anything were to happen to Earth.

When he finally went back down into the base, he was immediately accosted by Ratchet.

"The frag did you say to Starscream?" Ratchet snapped, lifting his diagnostic scanner in a vaguely threatening way. "He shot out of that elevator like Megatron himself was on his heels."

In a way, Optimus supposed Ratchet wasn't wrong. "I merely thanked him for the ways he's helped us."

Ratchet snorted. "Yeah, that'd do it," he said. "You better not have rattled him too badly. I might need his backup."

Optimus glanced around the main area. "Where did he go?"

"Vanished in the direction of his quarters," Ratchet replied. "He probably needs a minute to reconstruct his air of haughty indifference."

"Then we should allow him that minute," Optimus replied. Over by the groundbridge, the Forge waited. "I am glad you will not be here alone, should anything go wrong."

Ratchet gave him a hard stare. "Just come back," he said after a moment. "Don't break anything I can't fix."

"I will do my best," Optimus said. He meant it, to the core of him, but that didn't make the most desirable outcome a certainty.

That wasn't a promise he could make.

It was lunchtime when Miko's phone rang, and relief washed over her when she saw the caller ID. "Starscream, are you okay?"

Jack and Raf straightened up—she'd told them about the mission and the interrupted message, and now all three of them were sitting at a table in the school's courtyard, waiting for an update outside of Ratchet's brusque assurances that nothing was wrong.

"You and Optimus and your slagging crusade," Starscream said. He was talking fast, like he'd already been in the middle of a rant. "Are you trying to make me a real Autobot?" The last two words were spat out in a high, mocking pitch. "Trying to brainwash me into being soft and weak like you lot-"

"Woah, woah," Miko said, standing up and stepping away from the table. Jack spread his hands in a questioning gesture, and she held up a finger. "Screams, what are you talking about? What happened earlier? Are you hurt?"

"Stop," Starscream spat. "Stop acting like you actually care. I'm running out of patience."

"Okay, it sounds like you're super freaked out right now," Miko replied. "So I'm gonna need you to take a deep breath, or- vent, I guess?"

To her surprise, she heard a long whoosh of air.

"Good," Miko said, quickly running through a mental list of stuff that helped her calm down. Music, mainly, but that probably wouldn't be great right now. The breathing seemed to be working, though. "How about another one? In… and out."

He complied.

"Great," Miko said, a little stunned that he was actually listening to her. "Great. Okay. You, uh, you wanna tell me what that was about?"

"No," Starscream ground out.

"Fine," Miko said, pinching the bridge of her nose. "What happened earlier, though? You stopped responding, and I've been worrying about it all morning."

Starscream was silent for a moment. "The mission hit a little snag," he said eventually. "But Arcee and I ultimately made it back to base with the Forge. Everything is fine."

"Right, except for the part where you just called me with your wires all in a twist," Miko muttered. "Look, Screams, we only got one-word updates from Ratchet when we texted the 'Bots to ask about what was going on. He says everything's okay, too, but… it's not really that comforting, y'know?"

"It's busy here," Starscream replied. "They're getting ready to go to Cybertron. Don't expect much in the way of communication."

"Oh," Miko said. "Are you going with them?"

Silence again. "No," he said. "I'm to remain here with Ratchet."

"Okay," Miko said. "Is that what you're upset about?"

"I told you that I'm quickly losing my tolerance for this little charade of yours," Starscream snapped. "I've given you information about the current situation. Isn't that enough?"

"I don't care about that!" Miko snapped back, anger abruptly bubbling up her throat. "I don't care about whatever long con you think I've got going, and I don't care about this stupid war that keeps hurting my friends! I thought something awful happened to you and Arcee this morning and no one was giving me any real answers! And I was so scared, because I do care about you, even if you don't think so! When are you going to stop being mean to me for being nice to you?"

"I'll give you points for performance," Starscream said, voice brittle, "but I still don't buy it."

"Why?" Miko shouted. "Why is it so hard for you to believe I'm not up to anything?"

"Because I'm mean to you," Starscream snarled. "Because otherwise there's no value in playing nice with me. Because everyone has an agenda."

Miko felt like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over her. "I don't have an agenda," she said after a moment. "I have fun talking to you, when you're not being a complete jerk like this. You don't need to have a value. We can be friends, no catch or strings. Have you never known anyone who was just- just sincere?"

"Once," Starscream retorted, "and all it ever got him was dead."

Then he drew in a sharp breath. Miko opened her mouth, but she couldn't think of anything to say.

"We're not friends," Starscream said, a little strangled.

Miko's grip tightened on her phone. "Fine," she said stiffly. "I'll just leave you alone, then. Since you're so determined to be."

He didn't reply, and the line went dead.

Miko shoved her phone into her pocket and went back to the table, sinking onto the bench across from Jack and Raf. "Everyone's fine, apparently," she said flatly.

The boys exchanged a look. "Are you okay?" Raf asked.

Miko groaned and dropped her head onto her arms, folded atop the table. "Mrg," she said. After a moment of thinking, she lifted her head. "It's so stupid. I'm putting all this energy into trying to be his friend, and I was gonna keep trying because he didn't seem like he actually minded me talking to him. But he just went off about me and Optimus trying to brainwash him or something and how everyone has an agenda and maybe he's being mean to me on purpose to see how much I'll put up with? I don't know. I don't know!" She scuffed her heel against the concrete. "Sometimes he's pretty much chill with me and then sometimes he's a total asshole. I wish he'd just pick one and commit."

Jack reached across the table and laid a hand over her wrist. "If you're stressing out this much, you should probably let it go," he said. "Anyway, it's Starscream. You don't owe him anything."

"Yeah," Miko replied eventually, and wished she felt better about agreeing. "I guess so."

Knock Out had never minded his own business once in his whole long life, and so he felt fully entitled to listen in on High Command's discussion of what to do next. That, and also they were having said discussion in his med bay while he worked on Megatron's arm. So really, if they wanted this conversation to be private, they could take it somewhere else.

Well, conversation was a charitable way to put it. There was a lot of Megatron shouting, with a few reasonable remarks from Dreadwing and the occasional soundbite from Soundwave. Megatron had many complaints about Starscream's behavior, several of which Knock Out had to physically bite his tongue to keep himself from punctuating with, "Good for him." Then, of course, there was the usual vitriol against the Autobots. Megatron even managed to work in a few choice words against Optimus, who hadn't even shown up for the incident.

"My lord," Knock Out interjected when he noticed a break in Megatron's rant, "I'll be able to repair you faster if you hold still. Joint work is very fiddly."

Megatron stopped trying to gesture with his stump, which was the only indication he gave of having heard his medic. "And why go after the Forge now? It must have something to do with the Keys."

"The fact there are keys implies the need for a lock," Dreadwing noted. "Perhaps they aim to create it?"

Megatron's optics narrowed, his anger giving way to calculation. "The Omega Lock already exists, though its location has been lost. It's unlikely they could recreate it."

There was a soft blip from Soundwave as a rotating map of Cybertron appeared on his visor, followed by the blueprints of a spacebridge.

Megatron stiffened, his lips pulling back in a snarl. "Monitor Cybertron for any activity. If Optimus is heading there, I want to know where and when. We will meet him head on and claim the Omega Keys, the Omega Lock, and our home world for the Decepticons."

Soundwave acknowledged the order with a tilt of his head before exiting the med bay. Dreadwing watched him go before turning his attention to Megatron. "It makes sense for the Autobots to attempt to return to Cybertron," he said. "However, there is no guarantee that will be their next action. Shall I continue searching for their base?"

"Factor in Starscream's report," Megatron said. "He knows we were getting close to discovering the Autobots' location—he wouldn't have stretched his lies too thin."

"Yes, my lord," Dreadwing replied with a bow, then turned and left.

"And then there were two," Knock Out said jovially, twisting a wire into place.

"Spare me your chatter."

Knock Out pursed his lips. He'd been feeling less tolerant of Megatron's blunt dismissals lately; since Breakdown had died, in all honesty. His conjunx had been the one who really believed in The Cause and all that, and Megatron had thrown him away on an assassination mission that Megatron should have undertaken himself. And after being shot at, scraped up, thrown around, and left stuck in a fragging wall—all while being the only Decepticon medic in the galaxy, for Primus' sake—he was starting to think maybe his efforts around here weren't so terribly appreciated.

Still, where else could he go? Not to the Autobots, certainly. He had standards.

And so, Knock Out spared Megatron his chatter, and continued to fix the damaged joint in silence.