Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Starscream landed with a heavy thump, his legs colliding painfully with the hard earth of this Primus-damned planet. He stumbled back onto his pedes with a groan of pain. He stretched his wings, grateful that they were finally free of those fragging stasis cuffs. Starscream had flown about as far as his wings could carry him, out of that cursed valley and into a forest that seemed relatively uninhabited by Cybertronians and those pathetic little fleshlings alike. Good. He didn't need even more trouble now.

There was no way that he could return to the Nemesis now. Airachnid may have returned empty-handed, but so too would he. If not for her interference, he would have been in and out of the Harbinger in less than a breem. Starscream let out a growl of frustration, sinking his claws - hard - into the trunk of a nearby tree. Then it would have all been fine! He would have returned to... To what? To everything being alright again?

What even was alright? Maybe this time he would have satisfied Mast - Megatron, but next time? With those filthy Autobots seemingly lurking around every corner, it was only a matter of time before he slipped up again, whether due to them or from some fragger like Airachnid. It was only a matter of time before Starscream would be sitting in a pool of his own energon again. The Nemesis was out of question. Megatron would terminate him one of these days!

He was insane, and Starscream didn't hate himself enough to stick around and find out when Megatron would finally snap. He was more than capable of snuffing Starscream's spark. The Seeker stiffened a little as he remembered that fragging fusion cannon digging into him. Or the pressure of a thousand pounds of earth digging into his delicate plates. A thousand moments of pain across a thousand vorns.

And the Autobots... They too were obviously out of question. That fragging blue femme had tried to terminate him! Had his servos been unbound, Starscream would have had her at his mercy in a klik. But she had nearly succeeded, and Starscream shuddered at the thought of being near her for a moment more. For all the morality that they preached, they had still tried to terminate him!

He was dead either way. Did it matter who snuffed his spark? Not really, it didn't. The thought of obeying more orders - of more bowing and groveling and kneeling for a mech who had torn him to pieces time and time again made Starscream sick. And even worse was the thought of taking orders from those fragging Autobots! He would do well to remember what he had said deca-cycles ago. 

I am my own master.

It was time he lived up to that. About time. Starscream sighed, digging his claws out of the tree trunk. He had sunken them in deep enough to leave a gouge. The moon was beginning to rise rapidly. Fortunately, his silver frame was rather adept at hiding him. Although... Who was to be looking for him?

For the time being, Megatron would assume that the Autobots had taken him prisoner. He would surely not waste the resources to look for Starscream - that fragger - and simply leave him for dead. Again! Vorns upon vorns of loyal service and for what? The Autobots would assume that he had run back to the Decepticons, as he always did. Ha! Here he was, proving those fraggers wrong yet again.

At least for now, Starscream had bought himself some time. Of course, it would not be long before the mechs of both sides realized his absence. He couldn't imagine that the Autobots would search for him unless he caused trouble - which, for once, he did not intend to - but the Decepticons... Megatron would find him, if for no other reason than to punish him for his desertion. And what a punishment it would be.

Starscream wasn't stupid enough to think that he could escape his master's wrath again. If Megatron got his filthy little claws on him, he was done for. Permanently, this time. No amount of manipulation or begging would save him, and there was certainly no one in this world - still alive, at least - who cared enough about him to intervene. He would simply have to... hide.

For how long? Forever? The war had lasted so many vorns already. The thought of living like a scared mouse, skittering underfoot, on this mudball of a planet made Starscream shudder. Something would have to give, and it would probably be him. And energon! Where the Pit was he supposed to get that?

The alternatives were not exactly pretty, but what choice did he have?

It was getting late. Starscream transformed again and shot skyward, two stark lines of smoke trailing behind him in the otherwise clear sky. His alt mode was not exactly stealthy, but the dark of night helped, if only a little. He would have to put as much distance between himself and the last place any mech had seen him as possible. Where was Starscream to go? He had no idea, but the farther, the better.

He was his own master now. Really, truly. For the first time in... Since Vos. 

. . . 

Starscream flew through the night, until Earth's bright star rose, leaving behind it streaks of rose gold and orange. He streaked rapidly downward, his wings slicing through the air. He landed in a grove of trees, crushing the grass under him as he transformed back. Starscream had no idea where he was, but he didn't particularly care. He was free. Free from Megatron, free from the Autobots, free from everything.

No one would ever hurt him again. No one could ever hurt him again. As long as no one found him, he was untouchable.

At what cost, though? Well, it didn't matter. Starscream was free, and whatever price he had to pay for that he would gladly accept. His first order of business was to take out the tracker. Starscream groaned. Why hadn't he thought of that earlier? It was meant for his signal to be tracked easier in cases of emergency - although it had been the farthest thing from useful when he actually needed it! Above all else, he suspected that it was just another leash tying him back to Megatron.

He vented deeply. He ran a servo down his right arm, brushing past just where the tip of his missile ended. There. A tiny divot in Starscream's wrist, with a barely noticeable white scratch on the silver armor. He could hardly remember when the tracker had been planted in, but it had been buried under his armor, nearly into his protoform, for stellar cycles now. Just a little bit more pain. A small price to pay for eternal freedom.

Starscream dug one sharp, long claw under his armor, drawing energon immediately. He winced, but only dug down deeper. Blue dripped down his arms and onto the ground below. He cursed. Starscream moved the tip of his claw in deeper, until it brushed up against a small, hard piece of metal. There it was. He pinched it hard and then yanked it out in a smooth, practiced motion. The tracker was small, just large enough to transmit a signal.

He stared at it for a moment longer. The miniature Decepticon insignia burned onto it glared back at him. The last piece of Megatron still inside of him. Starscream smirked, and then began to laugh. He had won! For all of Megatron's abuse, for all the times he had planted a heavy pede over his second in command's chasis, for all the times that he had beaten him into the ground... Starscream had still escaped.

He had finally won.

Starscream tossed the tracker onto the ground and crushed it smoothly beneath his heeled pede, savoring in every crunch and buzz that came from the small piece of metal. A burst of pain snapped him out of his triumphant musings. 

His wrist was dripping energon everywhere. Who knew that much energon could come out of such a small wound? He watched in a sort of morbid fascination as blue dripped and dripped, forming a small puddle beneath him. Oh. Right. Starscream probably ought to do something about it.

He pressed his armor back down where it had been before he'd pried it up. Some of the energon slowed to a trickle. A small whimper escaped him as a warning popped up on his HUD. Energon loss would kill him without a source of it. Starscream glanced around wildly as his optics landed on a patch of some sort of green Earth plant. It looked absorbent enough.

Starscream shoved his wrist against it, surprised by how soft it was. He left it there for what felt like a small eternity, until the pain started to ebb and dull. He vented a sigh of relief. He was fine. He was going to be fine.

Everything was going to be alright.

Chapter Text

Starscream needed energon. That was perhaps his most pressing problem at the moment, adding to a rapidly growing list of other, just as bothersome problems. Freedom was not easy, and he was beginning to sorely realize that.

He slipped from recharge still sore and tired. The scar tissue beneath his armor - some of it from so long ago that Starscream could no longer even remember what had caused it - ached. It was not a sharp sort of ache like fresh battle wounds, but rather something that settled into him, deeper and deeper. Starscream flexed his wings, wincing a little, and onlined his optics.

The forest looked no different than the night before, and not anymore welcoming. He hated this fragging planet, with all its little organic fleslings and the mud and dirt that got into even the smallest crevices of his armor. How did anything at all live here? The one good thing was that Starscream had not been discovered in the night, seeing as he was still alive and solidly in one piece. He had no idea where he was, and even if he did, he didn't know enough about this planet to have a good frame of reference.

The Nemesis was probably in orbit by now, thousands of miles above him. Hopefully thousands of miles away from him, too. As for the Autobots... Who knew what dark little hole those fraggers scampered off into! Starscream had put in a fair amount of distance the night before, though, so he tried not to worry. Of course, that was easier said than done. He should be worried. He was in the wilderness of a planet he barely knew, with no one to trust but himself.

And energon. His fuel tank ached with emptiness and several warnings about low fuel had popped up on his HUD in the night. Starscream cursed. He had enough to stay alive for a few orns, but his flight and weaponry were dependent on energon as well, naturally. Without them, he was practically begging to be killed. The Decepticons - probably that silent freak Soundwave - would discover the broken tracker eventually. Maybe they had already.

Megatron could not have cared less about him, but he would punish him for desertion. Sorely. A punishment that Starscream was unlikely to survive. With the Decepticons after him, staying grounded and helpless was not an option.

His mind went in circles. It all led back to one place - without energon, I'm a dead mech walking. This realization was sombering, but realistic. Even without any other mechs around, Starscream would starve eventually. He had no idea if his frame could digest whatever slag humans fed their vehicles with, and he wasn't about to find out. Or run the risk of being discovered.

He searched his files. Somewhere in there, the location of every Decepticon energon mine on Earth was stashed away. His first thought was to check the abandoned mines. But no. Starscream remembered the feeling of a million tons of sheer rock and dirt digging into his delicate wings. Buried alive. Dead without so much as another glimpse of the sky. Megatron's cannon pointed at him, hot and fuming. His own spark pounding.

No. Those mines meant death. The mines meant Megatron. Of course, it was stupid to think that he would be waiting in whatever abandoned mine Starscream chose. But his mind was certainly not in the space to comprehend logic, and he gave up trying to shoo away his paranoia. Barring that, the instability of mines that had been completely dug through was dangerous. This time around, there would be no one to dig him out.

Starscream pulled up a map on his HUD. The nearest active mine was a short flight away - but on his current energon reserves, that was still a monumental risk. He had to risk it, though, or else he would die. And that would be the end of it! A death for him not in battle, not even at the hands of Megatron, but starved to death on this stupid fragging planet. He was briefly overwhelmned with an intense, unyielding anger. Why?

Why him of all mechs? What had he done to deserve this? It was death at the hands of the Autobots or death at the hands of Megatron or death at his own hands! What options did he have? Each was worst than the last - or perhaps they were all equally bad. And still he had no choice but to choose.

Starscream did some quick calculations. He had been a scientist, after all, even if it had been eons ago. Some part of him still longed for those days - and why wouldn't he? There had been stress, sure, but nothing compared to the pain of fighting an eternal war, all while trying to stay alive at the feet of Megatron. And certainly he had never had to wonder where his next meal would come from. And Skyfire had still been alive then.

It had all went down after Starscream had lost him. Maybe he had lost a part of himself too. Maybe it was still buried deep in the ice somewhere, forever lost. Maybe he was a broken mech walking, shattered beyond repair, half of something that used to be whole.

The past was the past. He was alive. That was the only important thing in the entire world.

His fuel tanks would allow him one more flight. Anymore than that and Starscream ran the risk of offlining himself on accident. The mine was active, but he would have to take that risk. He would simply have to fall, and hope that he could catch himself.

. . .

The mine was suspiciously quiet. Starscream listened closely for the sounds of whirring drills or the clunking pedesteps of Vehicons. Instead, he heard only silence, the kind thick, heavy silence that slipped through every crack. He landed with a heavy thud and crouched behind a thick slab of stone. His missiles would regenerate after each use - but that took at least a few breems, time he didn't have. And energon he didn't have.

Starscream transformed one arm into a blaster and peeked out from behind the rock. He saw nothing and heard nothing. Something caught his eye - the glint of shiny purple metal in the sun. Starscream got to his pedes and hesitantly walked out from behind the slab of stone. Frag. It was just as he had suspected. The broken body of Vehicon, discarded in the sand.

Those fragging Autobots. He paused. The Decepticons were just as much his enemies as the Autobots now. 

...Was there anyone who wasn't his enemy?

Starscream surveyed the narrow valley. He counted several more Vehicon bodies, in various states of disarray. The Autobots had been through, probably a short while ago. There was no sign of them now. They must have ground-bridged out. Starscream felt a sinking feeling in his chasis. He had - He had flown here for energon.

He had known the gamble that he was taking. But now -

Energon was in short supply. Very short supply, even for the Decepticons, who had the capabilities for numerous mines all around the planet. It had to be even worse for those Primus-damned Autobots.

Any energon they could find, they would take.

And they had been through here. Not long ago.

There was no energon here.

So was this how it ended? After Vos, after Kaon, after Cybertron, after all those vorns upon vorns upon vorns of war... After Megatron had tried to break Starscream into pieces time and time again... 

This was how it ended.

His vents came up short. Somehow they were getting faster. There was no danger here - so why - why - WHY?

No, no, no, no. Starscream had to live. He had to. Otherwise it would have all been for nothing, Skyfire and Thundercracker and Skywarp would have all been for nothing, all those times he had crawled back to Megatron on his knees would have been for nothing.

Nothing at all but to die here on this fragging planet completely and utterly alone.

It was over, then. Just like that. There was nothing for him to do but lie down, offline his optics, and wait to die.

Starscream let out a bitter laugh that faded halfway into a sob. He felt something cold and wet brush his faceplates. Coolant. 

His spark hammered in its chamber, pounding and pounding. He was sure it was going to break free and rip a hole right through his chestplate. That was the only possible explanation. Why else would his spark chamber ache so much?

Every inch of him was hurting. Battle wounds from eons ago, the ghosts of which still lingered. The brush of Megatron's claws deep into his protoform. It all started to throb, agony upon agony mixing into some sort of horrific concoction of pain.

What was happening to him?

Starscream lifted his head. Even that small, slight motion made him gasp. He stumbled unsteadily on his pedes, vents coming out too fast. He had to vent. Slow and steady. Right? Right?  Was he dying? Was he finally to see Skyfire again... like this?

If Primus didn't throw him into the deepest, darkest part of the Pit first, that was.

He saw something out of the corner of his optics - Was that - Was it - Blue?

He wiped his optics hurriedly with one clawed servo. Starscream turned to the right and saw, tucked into a large crack in the stone, half-concealed in shadow... It was a cart. A cart full of raw energon. The Autobots must have missed it.

It was - It - He - He was - 

He wasn't going to die.

Not now.

Not today.

Chapter Text

Now, Starscream wasn't exactly well-accquantained with this planet - nor did he wish to be - but he was fairly sure that thunderstorms extending as far as the eye could see, with branching lightning so enormous it made him sick to his fuel tank, was decidedly not normal. He veered sharply to the side, wings cutting through the air, as blue lightning arched downward, crackling and sizzling. His spark pounded. Any closer and he would've been scrap.

When he had first transformed, no more than a few breems ago, the sky had been completely clear. What was wrong with this planet? Couldn't anything in Starscream's life be simple and predictable for once? Oh, what had he done to deserve this?

He had to get out of this storm and fast, preferably before lightning struck him right out of the sky. Would this be how it ended? The Winglord of Vos, Air Commander and (former) second in command of the Decepticon army offlined from a storm. A storm! Life was a cruel joke and Starscream was the punchline.

Starscream silently cursed the Autobots and the Decepticons and Megatron as fat raindrops splattered against his wings and cockpit. At this rate, his frame would be completely rusted before he saw even an inch of clear sky! More lightning aced through the sky and Starscream slammed himself sharply to the side, barely stabilizing himself against the screaming wind. Why had he chosen to go for a flight again? Starscream thought, rather longingly, of the cool, dry mine. Barring the corpses, it was a far more pleasant place to be.

He had no idea what direction he was going, and certainly not in relation to the Nemesis or to the Autobot base. Certainly, he might have been flying right into the waiting servos of either side. Both of which would be a death sentence. Starscream continued to fly forward. The storm had to end soon. He just had to keep moving.

He was not going to be defeated by a pathetic little weather pattern! For Primus sake, he was Starscream. When he was in the air, no one bested him. 

It was abundantly clear, though, that Starscream was not in his element. For one thing, there was an uncomfortable ache in his entire frame, as if an invisible weight was pressing down on him. He had the knowledge to process energon - he had been an Energon Seeker once, however long ago - but he hardly had the means. The raw stuff worked fine enough to keep Starscream alive, but it did little more than that, and the stress of breaking it down made him hurt all over. One thing he had taken for granted aboard the Nemesis were the smooth, perfect cubes of liquid energon that he could depend on to be delivered to his door on a regular schedule.

Never mind the fact that his gracious master and lord had restricted his energon whenever he saw fit. Starscream had gone solar cycles without any fuel before, and he had... survived. It hadn't been pleasant, but he had survived. Still, Megatron wouldn't kill him. Not while he was still useful. For better or worse, Starscream had spent eons under him, and Megatron was predictable. He knew their cycle better than anyone, the twisted dance that they had perfected over the vorns.

But his current predicament was far from predictable. And by "predicament," Starscream meant his entire current life. He had no idea where his next meal was to come from - he had left the mine because his supply of raw energon had run out, and that had been the only crate those fragging Autobots had missed. He had gotten lucky once, and he was under no illusions that he would get lucky again. The universe seemed to hate Starscream specifically, after all.

Finally his optics registered a glimpse of blue sky. He powered up his engines as high as they would go, leaving nothing but a trail of smoke in his wake as he streaked through the air. Starscream jerked himself to the side, spinning in the air, narrowly avoiding even more lightning. His thrusters spit smoke as he flew forward, a sharp boom! echoing through the vast emptiness of the sky. The incessant sensation of rain over his plating started to slow.

Starscream was so close. Just a few more yards and he would be out of this storm and then everything would be - A sharp crack! cut through the air, leaving his audials ringing. Something hot and smoking grew near to his left side.

Lightning!

He threw himself to the right - but not soon enough. A spot on his left wing was dented and smoking. The damage didn't look too bad but he had no time to assess it. Warnings began to pop up on Starscream's HUD and before he could even clear them, he began to fall. No, no, no, no.

The sky was the one place he was in control. Where he always escaped to. Where nothing and no one could find him. Where nothing and no one could hurt him. And now Starscream was falling.

His thrusters tried and failed to ignite. There was nothing he could do to slow the fall, no way to slow his gaining momentum. The ground drew closer and closer, an unflattering landscape of sharp, pointed rocks. Was this how he offlined? Was this how he would join the Allspark?

Was he going to see Skyfire again? Now?

If he didn't go straight to the Pit, that was. 

What would he think of Starscream now? Of what he had become? Would he love him still?

Of course not. Who would ever love him?

Something gripped Starscream. He was not going to die! Not here, not now, not ever if he could help it. The sky would never best him. No one would ever best him. He had survived four million years of war where his trine had been terminated, where Skyfire had been terminated, where unthinkable thousands had been terminated. He had survived Megatron for four million years. No matter how many times he had been beaten into the ground he always rose again. Always.

Starscream transformed out of jet form with ten feet of air left to spare, tucking his legs into his chassis and his arms over his helm. He could still remember flight school back in Vos, when he had been little more than a sparkling, stumbling through the air on unsteady wings. The instructor's voice rang in his audials still, even now. Some things never changed. There was still a raised metal platform on the ruins of Cybertron that Starscream had once stood one, had once taken his first flight from. It was still there, somewhere. His home was still there, somewhere. There was still a piece of him buried beneath Vos... somewhere.

His side slammed into the ground with more force than he thought possible, injured wing banging up against the ground painfully. Starscream let out a low groan of pain, stumbling to his pedes. It was still raining, but he was far out enough that it was not much more than a drizzle. But he had to move fast. The storm, too, was on the move, and coming in his direction.

Once Starscream had cleared the warnings from his HUD, he leaned up against a shiny boulder and tried to steady himself. He craned his neck, examining the damage to his left wing. The metal plating was blackened and dented, but nothing seemed cracked or broken or even particularly bent. Perhaps his self-repair would take care of it. WIth Starscream's luck, though, probably not. It wasn't too dented. He could probably still fly, if not slightly lopsided.

His frame was scratched - severely, in some places - but it was purely superficial damage. He wasn't Knockout, after all. Starscream was... fine. Alive. He was going to be alright.

. . .

The storm drew ever closer. The thin drizzle of rain thickened into heavy blades of water that crashed uncomfortably against Starscream's frame. He had to find shelter, and fast. He wasn't sure if he had enough energon left for another flight, and more rain and lightning was all that awaited him, no matter what direction Starscream went. Best to stay put.

He glanced around, optics taking in the admittedly-hideous landscape of Earth. Could they not have landed on any other planet? Oh, whatever. Aesthetics were far from his highest priority at the moment. Starscream's gaze landed on a small opening in the sheer stone of a cliff a few yards away. His spark cramped uncomfortably at the thought of being surrounded by stiff, unforgiving earth again, but he had no choice. The landscape was too open, and he was tall, compared to the rest of this planet. He was practically begging for another lightning strike.

Starscream darted over, pleased to find that the crack in the stone extended far enough to fit him. It was nowhere near tall enough for him to stand comfortably in - or to stand at all - but with some maneuvering on his servos and knees, he managed to get all of himself - including his wings - smoothly inside. Starscream scooted back, only for his delicate wing tips to collide painfully with stone. He cursed.

Why, oh, why?

His spark started to burn uncomfortably. That was... probably not normal.

It was too small. Way too small. If he got stuck here - No one would find him - Was this to be his fate? Rusting away forever in a tiny little cave on this pathetic fragging planet? Starscream would have laughed at the sheer bad comedy of it all, if his vocalizer was capable of making any noise at the moment.

He could see no sky at all, only a miniature, tiny slice of the open, dusty landscape before him. He may as well have been thousands of feet underground. There was - There was - There was nothing here but rock and stone and earth.

His wings splayed out, the walls of the cave catching on them. His vents weren't bringing in enough air. He had to vent. Just vent. Deep vents. Starscream's traitorous body disobeyed him, and his in and ex vented only grew shallower.

It was too dark. There was no light, and the red glow of own optics hardly counted. He could barely shift positions - He could barely - He couldn't - He -

The purple glare of a fusion cannon in front of him. The shine of Megatron's plating. The pounding of his own spark, hammering in its chamber. He was going to die. Here and now. His master had shown him mercy for the very last time and it was over.

Thousands of pounds of stone over him, digging into his shoulders and wings. The delicate metal creaked, denting and bending. Starscream was not a large mech, or a particularly strong one. he couldn't keep this up for long. It was going to fall on him. All of it.

It was going to crush him until there was nothing left to crush - all of it - 

He would see Skyfire again, so very very soon, poor dead, sweet Skyfire.

And he was going to be just as dead as him.

Starscream snapped back to cold, bitter reality with a ragged gasp, his claws digging into the seams of his own frame. His chassis rose and fell sharply, faster and faster. Were Starscream's vents bringing in less and less air or was that just his imagination? Was the stone pressing onto him? It felt heavier than before. It had to be heavier than before.

He thought he heard something inside of him creak and then break. That was - that was silly, right? There were a few inches of space between Starscream's wingtips and the ceiling of the cave. There was, right? Right?  Something in him was so, so, so very scared, too scared to even look up at check.

Outside, thunder roared.

He took a shaky, long in-vent, and then a shaky, long ex-cent. Slowly, his vents returned to normal, his spark still pounding but not as hard. Starscream was still all too aware of the stone pressing up against him, but he had no choice but to ignore it. You're going to be okay. The storm will pass. It won't even be long. There's plenty of room in here. And you will be fine.

He tried to convince himself.

He couldn't.

Starscream offlined his optics and tried to forget. Tried to forget everything. Starscream offlined his optics and tried to let everything melt away, tried to let the rain wash it all away.

The rain washed nothing away.

Chapter Text

Megatron drove his fist into the yellow stone sharply, pulling out a chunk of raw, glowing energon. Starscream bit back a gasp. He thought he had - surely - surely he had cleared out the entire mine! No, no, no. Not only had he failed - yet again - but he had also lied to his master's face. Even if he didn't know it - did it make any difference? He was scrap either way.

"Every last trace of energon extracted?" Megatron questioned, blood red optics boring into the seeker's. He grew aware very suddenly of how small his own frame was and of the way Megatron's towered over him.

"L-Lord Megatron, I can explain," he stammered, taking a step back. He had to make up something - and fast - before - before - before

"Explain?! Explain what? That you've been holding a supply of energon for your own personal use?" Megatron slammed the chunk of rock to the ground, crushing it under an enormous, heavy pede. He took a step forward. Starscream began to back away, as quickly as he could.

"Do not take me for a fool, Starscream! I have been wise to your... transgressions from the beginning. Not only did you pluck the dark energon from my chest in a failed attempt to snuff my spark, but you tried to raise your own undead warrior with it! It's no secret you lost an arm in the process, which you've since had replaced!"

Starscream stumbled away, wings falling in fear. How did he know? Scratch that, of course he knew. Megatron knew everything. He had been such a fool to think that he could run, that he could hide, that he could perhaps even rebel. 

"The fact is, Starscream, despite your treachery, I've allowed you to carry on this long because I took a certain delight in following your string of failures," Megatron went on. Starscream jumped back with every word that came out of the other mech's mouth, but Megatron simply followed, pedesteps heavy and sure. "But you've finally become... tiresome. Predictable! You've finally hit... rock bottom."

He heard the tell-tale sound of Megatron's fusion cannon igniting. This was the end, wasn't it? No... NO! Starscream's spark pounded feverishly in his chest. Not here, not now, not at the claws of Megatron. Please, please, please. Anything! Anyone!

He was going to die. Right here and right now. Starscream could only stare down the glow of the purple cannon and plead that it would be quick - but of course it wouldn't be. "Master, please! Give me one more chance! I beg of you!" he cried, falling to his knees. He hated seeing himself like this, pathetic and whimpering. But Starscream had no choice.

He never had.

The fusion cannon began to ignite again and -

Starscream's optics onlined with a start and he sat up sharply, vents fast and shallow. He glanced around wildly to find that the sun had risen outside of the cave, coating the landscape in a sheen of gold. There was too much earth around him. Too much heavy, unyielding stone. No, no, no.

He was back there, wasn't he? Back in the mine, back in the cave, back down the barrel of the cannon - Back in Megatron's grasp. Megatron, who would never let him go, who would snuff his spark - for good, this time.

No. 

No.

Starscream was in the cave from the night before, far, far away from that mine and far, far away from Megatron. For better or worse, he was alone and he was safe. Starscream in-vented shakily, waiting for his vents to return to normal. His spark pounded an anxious, unsteady rhythm.

Starscream wrenched his wings free with a gasp of slight pain and crawled out of the cave where he had taken shelter the night before. He let his wings lift up, and then down with a sigh of relief. It was good to be back out in the open, however exposed it made him feel. Starscream tilted his head back, examining the damage on his wing. The paint was still blackened and slightly charred, but the dent wasn't as severe. He certainly felt fine, and none of his internals seemed to have been fried.

The nightmare always ended there. He assumed that he offlined after, seeing as that blue femme and her little human friend never actually appeared. It was stupid. Starscream knew that he had survived, if only by several strokes of incredible luck, but he had survived! It was in the past. So why, oh why, did his mind always wander there?

It didn't matter. He had more important things to attend to. The most pressing of which was Starscream's nearly empty fuel tank. Primus really did just detest him specifically. Out of all the beings in the universe, why did Starscream happen to have the most rotten luck of all of them? What had he even done to deserve this? What a terrible world to live in indeed.

The one good thing was the storm seemed to have passed. The ground was still soaking wet, but he could ignore that. He had been through worse, even if he didn't quite appreciate sodden mud getting stuck in the tiny seams of his armor. In fact, the sky seemed almost too clear... Well, that was a good thing, by any metric.

. . .

By some Primus-given miracle, Starscream's energon problem was abruptly solved. A few breems later, he looked up and saw trails of smoke over head - from flier exhaust pipes. Could it be? He narrowed his optics and was able to just make out the glint of the sun over Decepticon insignia. Vehicons! Starscream never thought the day would come where he was actually glad to see them, but he supposed it had.

It was certainly a little humiliating, having to tail the lowliest of common little foot soldiers when he was, well... Starscream! But as much as he valued his pride, he valued his life quite a bit more. Starscream's only goal at the moment was to preserve his own spark. Anything else was secondary. Thus, he found himself transforming and taking to the air, trailing a safe distance behind the Vehicons.

Of course he could best them in battle - they were just clones, and he was the Primus-damned Air Commander! But, as a warning on his HUD warned him, Starscream was dangerously low on energon. Flying for too long, let alone fighting, could easily kill him. He flew as quietly as he could, tailing them. Up ahead, against a steel gray sky, loomed the sharp, jagged, hulking figure of the Nemesis.

He felt a familiar prickle of dread as he followed the Vehicons into the landing bay, swift as a shadow. It felt like waltzing directly into the belly of the beast he had been running from for so long. No, no. This was temporary. It had to be. In and out. Quickly. 

Starscream pressed himself up against the wall, waiting for the Vehicons to leave. His spark felt like it was about to burst with anxiety. He had to do this. What other choice did Starscream have? It was this or sit there and rust, and he wasn't about to join poor old Skyfire. Not quite yet, at least. He had survived this long, and he could certainly survive more. Of course he could!

Once the landing dock was clear, he scrambled through the doorway before it closed again, quickly ducking behind a gray pillar. The massive hallways of the Nemesis were empty, other than the occasional Vehicon patrol. Good. If Soundwave or Knockout or - Primus forbid - old buckethead himself saw him, Starscream was scrap. For good this time! No Decepticon would show him mercy, not after he had deserted them. Which he was sure they knew by now, if by nothing else than his tracker going offline.

He tried to clear his cluttered processor and think for once. He was smart! He just had to take a moment and be logical. Somehow, Starscream's plans never seemed to work, but this one had to! If it didn't...

He recalled the way to the energon storage, and slowly made his way down the ship. The halls were still empty, and any time he caught even a hint of purple, Starscream darted behind any sort of cover he could find, of which there was very little. Was this what he had been reduced to? Running and hiding like a scared mouse, scrambling under the feet of troops he used to command? Oh, how the mighty had fallen, indeed!

Still, he found that he had no desire to crawl his way back up to the top. Sure, one of his schemes to kill Megatron would certainly work - if for no other reason than pure, dumb luck - but would he live to see that day? Power had been nice, certainly, but all the power in the world - Winglord of Vos, Air Commander of the Decepticon army - had never protected Starscream nor saved him. It hadn't mattered when Megatron had thrown him against the wall so hard the glass of his cockpit cracked, hadn't mattered when Skyfire offlined, hadn't mattered when his trine offlined, hadn't mattered when he woke up in the medbay, still aching and trembling and hooked up to more cables than he cared to count, hadn't mattered when Megatron left him with his wings half torn off in a puddle of his own sticky blue energon.

Freedom was better. Even his existence now - Starscream would hardly call it living - was far, far better than anything under Megatron had ever been.

Unfortunately, stealth had never been his strong suit. It had been too long since he'd been aboard the Nemesis and even longer since he'd bothered to check their energon stores. Why would he concern himself with such petty things, when the Vehicons could attend to it? Starscream turned a corner and saw the doorway to the stores. He ducked away quickly - but not quickly enough.

The two Vehicons guarding the door turned instantly, pointing their blasters at him. Starscream didn't bother with pleasantries. That only confirmed his fears - Megatron knew that he hadn't offlined, nor was he a prisoner of the Autobots. He knew that Starscream had deserted out of his own free will, out of his own volition. And he wasn't happy about it, not at all.

That sent Starscream's spark pounding even more than it already was, but he had more pressing problems at the moment. The Vehicons darted toward him, blasters raised. One word from them and the whole ship would come running.

He slammed his arm into one of them, breaking metal and sinking into soft circuitry. The Vehicon's blaster went off, hitting one of the lights on the ceiling, which fizzed out immediately. He wasted no time, plunging sharp claws into the abdomen of the other, gripping his shoulder to keep the other mech still. Starscream was rewarded with the sound of cables breaking and circuitry sparking. He wrenched his claws out and saw that they were dripping with energon.

The sight made Starscream feel vaguely sick, for reasons that he could not quite pinpoint. Usually, he would have relished in the sight. Starscream glanced around. The fight had been brief but noisy. Someone would come soon enough. He had to move fast.

Inside the stores, the warm glow of blue energon cubes surrounded him. There was so much. He had been on the edge of starvation ever since he had deserted, and now there was as much energon as he had seen in one place since Cybertron. Oh, Starscream had taken life aboard the Nemesis for granted! At least he had never had to think about if he would starve or not!

He shoved into his servos as much as he could carry, which was a meager four cubes. He hadn't thought far enough to how he would transport them, or how he would even carry enough cubes to warrant the risk of quite literally returning to the ship of the faction that he had defected from. Starscream struggled to see over the top of the pile of cubes, wishing his frame was even slightly bigger - not the first time. Flight frames were naturally slender and small and while he appreciated that in the air, he most certainly did not when it came to Megatron tossing him around like a rag doll.

Starscream glanced around, trying to remember which way he had come from. The second-in-command not even knowing the layout of his own ship! Oh, his life was bad comedy! Except no one was laughing. Suddenly, he heard the sound of heavy mechanical pedesteps coming from the adjacent hallway. His optics caught on a shadow approaching. Starscream's gaze fell on a doorway a few strides away.

He rushed quickly in, thanking Primus that the door opened immediately, and then closed securely behind him. Starscream glanced over the stack of energon - and nearly dropped the entire thing on his pedes.

"No - Optimus Prime?!"

Optimus fragging Prime was leaning over a large datapad, inputting something into it. What - how - why? What the frag was the Autobot leader doing on a Decepticon warship? By the time Starscream had scraped his jaw off the floor, the Prime had turned around, somehow looking just as shocked as Starscream was. He dropped his energon immediately and pointed both missiles at the other mech.

It didn't matter why he was here. Prime was a threat to him, just as every other Cybertronian on this planet was - for now, at least.

"Please, I mean no harm," Prime said, backing away as if - as if Starscream was any kind of threat to him. Prime was the same size as Megatron, and Megatron had - And since when had Prime ever meant "no harm?"

"No?! Then what are you doing here?" Starscream demanded. He needed to get on and off the ship fast, but he had to admit, his curiosity was rather piqued.

"Research," Prime answered, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "For Lord Megatron."

Lord?! Research? Did Starscream hear him right?

"Is this some kind of joke?" 

Prime actually looked confused. "I'm afraid I do not understand."

Starscream frowned, dropping his missiles. "And... why would you call me Optimus Prime?"

"...Why wouldn't I?!"

"Because my name is Orion Pax," Optimus Prime said gravely, as if he truly did believe every word coming out of his own mouth. "I am... far from being a Prime."

Starscream's optics darted to the Decepticon insignia on Prime's shoulder. Prime with a Decepticon badge? What was next, the sun rising from the west? "...You reminded me of someone I once knew, that's all," Starscream lied. Whatever this was, he didn't have time to deal with it.

"You are... Starscream?"

"...Yes." Who else would he be?!

"Lord Megatron told me that you had been... terminated."

What? That was what that fragger was going around telling everyone now? That Starscream was dead? Oh, he would show them just how "terminated" he was!

"...Lord Megatron says many things. Only some of them are true," Starscream said. He had no idea what was going on with Prime, but perhaps he could have a little fun while he was here.

"You do not suggest that our leader could speak... falsehoods?"

Starscream burst out laughing. "You truly are being kept in the dark, aren't you?"

Prime frowned, looking genuinely confused. Clearly, it wasn't an act. If not, then what in the Pit was going on?! Well, Starscream may as well continue on! Inform Prime of just who their "glorious" leader really was! The more trouble for Megatron, the better.

"Our precious leader speaks nothing but falsehoods! Whatever he's told you, he's probably making that scrap up. Whoever you think dear Mas - Megatron is, you're wrong," Starscream said. He was quite enjoying himself. It wasn't like he could talk scrap about Megatron aboard his own ship every cycle!

Prime looked positively stunned, as if Starscream had just turned his entire world upside down. "What is it with you anyway, Prime?" he asked. "What did he even do to you?"

"Do to me? ...Nothing, I would... assume. I have been in stasis for the duration of the war, so I am afraid that there is much I do not know."

Oh, this was rich. "Stasis?! Really? My god, he's dabbling in creative writing now? You fought in the war," he said. "Every vorn of it! And you remember... none of it?"

Once again, Prime looked like his world was shattering. "...The extent of my memory begins a few cycles before today."

Starscream shook his head in disbelief. Leave it to Megatron to somehow reprogram Prime into whatever this confused mech was! Whatever, it wasn't his problem. It was amusing to see Prime like this, yes, but in his absence, those ramshackle little Autobots would surely fall apart. And with no Autobots, who was there to stop Megatron? Not as though Starscream actually cared about the trajectory of the war, but if Megatron took over this planet unopposed, he would have nowhere to hide. And Megatron would find him and make him pay.

He had to remind himself that he had no real allegiance in the war anymore. No allegiance but to himself. And wasn't it better for Starscream if the war went on longer? No one would have time to look for him, not that they would have spared the time, troops, and effort anyway. With the Autobots and Decepticons busy destroying each other, he could have his solitude and he could have his freedom. But all that hinged on Prime going back to being, well, Prime. As much as Starscream hated helping a mech he had fought for vorns upon vorns, no one was truly his enemy now, and no one was truly his ally now.

Besides, some more trouble for Megatron was never a bad thing.

"Megatron is lying to you," Starscream hissed.

"Our - my - leader wouldn't. He -"

"Well, I'm still alive, aren't I? He lied to you about that." Oh, Starscream didn't have time for this! Why had he even bothered? "The Autobots can explain everything. I'm rather afraid I have no further time to waste here. Just - erm - comm them or something. I'm sure there's a groundbridge somewhere on this Primus-damned ship."

Prime continued to stare at him, apparently stunned into silence. Well, it wasn't every day someone left Optimus Prime speechless, even if it was some weird Decepticon version.

The door sprang open before Starscream could say or do anything else. Three Vehicons, blasters loaded and pointed directly at him, stood there. "Starscream! Surrender!" one of them shouted.

Starscream yelped in surprise, darting behind Prime's larger frame instinctively. "Wait, hold your fire!" Prime said, to no avail whatsoever. Starscream transformed as fast as he could and fired up his thrusters. 

He sped down the wide hallways of the ship, leaving two clear trails of smoke hanging in the air. He heard the rush of engines behind him and cursed. The Vehicon caught up to him faster than Starscream thought, and he transformed in midair quickly, leaping onto the Vehicon's vehicle form. He slammed it as hard as he could into the cold metal floor and then transformed back, thrusters spitting fire, hearing the satisfying scrape of metal against metal, and then a boom! as the other mech exploded.

He sent one of his missiles flying, blasting open the landing bay door. Starscream burst through it, cutting through the cloud of steel gray smoke. Blaster fire followed him. He spun and dodged smoothly, not having the time to return fire.

He dove downwards sharply, narrowly avoiding smacking into the face of the ship. He was free! He just had to keep going - a little bit more - and -

A single blast hit Starscream in the thruster. Even in jet mode, he could feel his armor giving and bursting, and the blast ripping through him, down to the protoform. He tried to propel upwards but no part of him would listen.

He spun rapidly downward, losing altitude faster than he could even attempt to gain it back.

And he was a sparkling in Vos again, learning how to fall before he could learn how to fly. And he was falling and falling and falling.

There was a certain trick to falling. It was not in staying up in the first place. Rather, it was in smoothing the landing and flying again, even if you only kept falling.

That was the trick to falling.

And Starscream knew it better than anyone. 

Chapter Text

Starscream was royally fragged. He had managed to land without damaging any other parts of himself - a miracle in and of itself - but he was rapidly bleeding to death. Starscream had lost the Vehicons somewhere along the way - or, rather, they thought they had terminated him. For good, this time. Well, he was alive. Those fools had failed again! But he wouldn't be alive for long if he didn't do something about the energon rapidly flowing out of his left thigh.

Glowing blue energon reflected back the starlight. Starscream leaned shakily against a massive boulder, vents slow and shallow. He had no means of stopping the bleeding, nor of replenishing the lost energon. Somewhere along the way, he had completely forgotten to store away the stolen energon. It was probably still in that room with stupid fragging Prime! So it had all been for nothing! He was completely, totally, fragged.

Unless... Starscream had to get a medic here to help. Knockout was completely out of question. They may have been friends - or whatever else they had been - but Knockout was loyal to Megatron, and Starscream would sooner offline himself than willingly give himself over to the Decepticons. The Autobots, then. He hated it, but it wasn't like Starscream had any other choice. It was the Autobots, or joining the Allspark here and now.

He wasn't entirely sure that they wouldn't shoot him on site - what, without their righteous, disgustingly moral leader to stop them. But Starscream knew something that they didn't - what had happened to dear Optimus. And the location of the Nemesis - well, the last known location, anyway. He had valuable Decepticon knowledge logged into his processor, and he would give them whatever they wanted. Forget loyalty, this was survival. And he would do anything and everything to keep himself alive.

Starscream opened up his HUD, ignoring the warnings about low energon, as well as the damage to his frame, and set out a distress signal. He didn't have the energon or the means to encrypt it - he simply had to pray to Primus that the Autobots detected it before Soundwave did. He encoded a message as hastily as he could - I have obtained information regarding your leader. Bring medical kit.

He thought for a moment and then added, And energon. Come alone. Starscream let the signal go out, leaning back and pressing a servo to his leg, trying to staunch the flow of energon. It was no use. Metal was hardly absorbent, after all. He waited about a breem, watching in a mix of morbid fascination and horror as more and more energon poured out of him. Oh, he was fragged!

Just as an additional warning popped up on his HUD, warning him that any further energon loss would result in him going into stasis, the bright greens and purples of a ground bridge lit up the dark forest as clear as day. Starscream breathed a sigh of relief, before realizing that he had nothing to be relieved about. His life now lay in the servos of bots that he had tried to terminate more times than he could count. If they chose not to help him, he would be truly, absolutely, dead.

Ratchet - good, he came - and the big, dim-witted green one - Bulkhead - walked through the portal. See? He did remember their names. Starscream flinched back slightly, wings colliding with the rock behind him painfully. "I told you to come alone," he snapped. He winced. Antagonizing the only mechs who could save him at this point would do him more harm than good.

"And since when have we listened to you?" Bulkhead demanded, fist transforming into a wrecking ball.

"Where's Optimus?" Ratchet demanded.

Starscream glanced at his thigh - still bleeding - and then back at the two Autobots. As much as he suspected they would take his information and then leave him to die, he could not afford to waste another nano-klik. "A-aboard the Nemesis," Starscream choked out, keeping his servo pressed tightly against the wound. "Getting cuddly with dear old Megatron, I would imagine."

"Has he been harmed in anyway?"

"I - Can't you see that I'm the one who's been harmed?" he sputtered, sitting up indignantly. More energon leaked from beneath his plating, as if to remind him of his current predicament. 

"Has he?" Ratchet questioned.

"Fine, fine," he hissed. "No, your precious, perfect leader is perfectly fine. Although perhaps with some processor damage. Though I don't suppose that would be much different from him norma-"

"And where exactly is the Nemesis?"

"How should I know?" Starscream demanded indignantly. "It's a ship. It moves, for Primus's sake. I'll give you its last known coordinates. That should help on whatever wild goose chase you lot are up to now."

He sent the coordinates he had thankfully longed into the thankfully open comm channel. "You wouldn't do me the trouble of calling me here unless you had information you could trade," Ratchet snapped. "Real information."

"What, that isn't 'real' enough for you?! Very well... Your beloved leader may have lost his senses, even more so than usual. He goes by the name Orion Pax now, and it seems that Megatron has lead him to believe he's a Decepticon."

Bulkhead laughed. "Tell us something we don't know."

Oh scrap. Starscream truly was done for, wasn't he?! "What? How could you possibly - oh never mind, tell me what you want to know or let me die in peace," he growled. 

The two Autobots glanced at each other. "Well, unless you can tell us where Megatron's hiding that space bridge, you can stay here and rust," Bulkhead said.

Oh, this was getting interesting. "Spacebridge?! You mean to tell me they actually finished building it without my supervision?" How in the world had Megatron pulled together a half-competent group of Decepticons to do that? Oh, who was replacing him now? That fragger Arachnid?

Starscream had no time to waste, nor any pride left to hang onto. He commed them the coordinates to the spacebridge and threw in an active energon mine for good measure. He laughed, seeing the expression on their faces. He had won again! Megatron had tried to kill him again, and again he had escaped!

For all the times Megatron had thrown him up against the wall, had shattered the fragile glass of his cockpit, had torn and ripped through the thin metal of his wings, had planted a heavy pede on his chassis, slamming him to the ground... For all the times Starscream had been left to limp to the medbay himself, legs barely able to support his own wait, dripping a trail of energon... For all the times even Knockout had had to hide his shock and horror as Starscream stumbled in, refusing to meet anyone's eyes... For all the vorns and vorns of pain and obedience... He had won again!

"Well?" he said. "It hurts most right here, Doctor."

. . .

The Autobots left him with a freshly welded thigh plate and two cubes of energon. The lowest grade of stuff they had in storage, Starscream suspected. Still, it was far more than he had expected. The first cube he downed so fast his fuel tank started to ache after as he tried to replenish all the energon he had lost. Afterwards, he could not find the strength in him to do anything else, so he offlined his optics, curled into a ball, and slipped into recharge worryingly fast.

The next morning, Starscream woke up sticky with his own long-dried energon. He onlined his optics with a groan. His thigh plate still ached where he'd been shot - scratch that, not just his thigh plate. Every single part of him hurt. He couldn't pinpoint what old injury or scar was acting up, what new part that Knockout had fitted on that didn't quite fit right (after Megatron found a new and creative way to tear him into pieces) was starting to ache again, only that a heavy, sharp pain seemed to have overtaken every single part of him. 

Starscream's first order of business was to scrape some dirt over the puddle of energon still on the forest floor. There were few things on Earth that were naturally a neon blue, and he couldn't risk anyone finding him, Autobot or Decepticon. The Autobots knew where he was now, and while Starscream was fairly certain he wasn't high up on their list of priorities - or there at all - he couldn't risk it. Starscream was finally free and he wouldn't squander that freedom for anything in the world.

His one goal was to keep himself alive long enough to find some other goal. He had chased power amongst the Decepticons for so long, and yet it felt astoundingly silly to him now. Starscream had no doubts whatsoever he would have usurped Megatron eventually - but how long would that have taken? With every failure, with every slight misstep, more of his own energon splattered onto the cold tiled floors of the Nemesis. All that was there for him on that ship, with the Decepticons, was suffering. Complete and endless suffering.

He had nothing there. No trine, no friends, not even a cause to fight for anymore. No one had had a cause to fight for in a very long time. Whatever the Decepticons had originally stood for, it was long gone. Functionism was certainly long dead, if only because there was simply no more society, no more Cybertron for there to be a Functionism. The Senate was long toppled, and with it anything that could be governed. They were fighting a war for the sake of fighting a war now. It wasn't even about a cause anymore, just Megatron's own personal grudge against the Prime.

That war had destroyed an entire planet. It may as well have destroyed their species, too. There were sure to be Neutrals scattered amongst the stars, light years upon light years away from both Earth and Cybertron. Was that even a life, though? To live among aliens, always yearning for a home you couldn't even remember anymore. Was Starscream any better, though? Were any of the Decepticons? Were any of the Autobots?

There were probably less than three dozen mechs on Earth right now who weren't Vehicon drones. Starscream could have named them all in less than a breem. If things went the way they were currently going, in a vorn or two, there would be no Cybertronians left. 

He had lost everything, hadn't he? Skyfire, his trine, Vos, his planet, his status - first as Winglord, and now as second-in-command... Somewhere along the way, he had lost a part of himself that he would never find again. Hadn't they all, though? Was it even worth it anymore? Certainly not for Starscream. Leave the others to fight an eternal war. He would find a way forward for himself - alone.

Chapter Text

Seekers were social creatures by nature. They lived, breathed, worked, fought, slept, and died in trines. A trine was three mechs cut from the same cloth, formed from the same spark. Three thirds of the same whole. From the moment they came online, they were bonded in a way that ran deeper than family, deeper than friendship, deeper, even, than sparkbonds. From the first in-vent to the last ex-vent, trines were meant to be together.

At least, that was how it was supposed to be. Starscream had lost count of how many seekers had lost their trines during the fall of Vos. He could still remember, all these vorns later, walking down the field hospital made in the ruins of his very own palace, and seeing all those hollow-eyed, blank faceplates. To lose one's trine was a fate worse than death. In Vos's civil wars, killing a seeker's trines was a form of torture. Mechs went insane from it, trying to snuff their own spark rather than keep on living. 

In theory, trines could be reformed, the same way sparkbonds could be reforged. But what was the point? For life with no trine was merely... existing. Vos, which had seen thousands of vorns of peace prior to the war, had taken trines for granted. They were innate to the way a seeker functioned, built into their very code. But when the bombs started to fall...

Seekers lost their trines. Even the survivors offlined, out of grief or out of the sheer pain of losing two thirds of their very spark. Things only got worse as the war went on. Casualties were inevitable, and eventually there came a day where trines were rarer and rarer. Those who did survive were hardly the same, and they certainly never thought to find a new trine. Starscream had counted himself remarkably lucky - no matter what happened, he still had Thundercracker and Skywarp. They were together until the end of the line, until they all joined the Allspark - together.

No matter how many times Megatron tore him apart, his trine was always there to put him back together. In the beginning, anyway. In those days, Starscream might have even called Megatron gentle. When he had grown a little too defiant, a little too comfortable... Starscream had tried to terminate Megatron. The first time, he had come close. He had come very, very close. It had been a close battle, but by all means, Starscream was not adapted to fight on the ground, nor did he have the sheer strength and firepower his master did.

He was in the worst condition he had been in since the fall of Vos, one wing nearly torn off, cockpit a mess of twisted metal and broken glass, plating hanging off of him in such a way that his cables were entirely exposed. It was the worst pain Starscream had ever been in, and he was sure that there was scarring down to the protoform still there from it. Megatron had torn off his wings that time. 

Grounded. Grounded for what had to be stellar-cycles, able to see the sky but never able to reach it, never able to so much as brush it. Trapped and trapped and trapped. Still his trine had stayed with him, a seeker with no wings, and Air Commander confined to the bare earth.

He had always had them.

Until he didn't.

Starscream had always suspected that Megatron had sent Skywarp and Thundercracker on that mission on purpose. He had gotten a little too bold - once more - just a few orns before, after all. But what could they have done? Refuse Megatron? It was a suicide mission. He knew that. Megatron knew that. Warp and TC knew that. They all did. Storming an entire Autobot ship with what, two seekers? It was so impossible as to be laughable.

He had known, even then, in his spark, that that was the last time he would ever see his trine. Still, Starscream hadn't actually believed it. Part of him had still hoped beyond hope - if anyone could do it, his trinemates could. But even if they escaped with their lives, what fate would Megatron have in store for them? The simple crime of guilt by association had led them to their deaths, which Starscream could only pray had been quick and painless.

He felt their sparks flicker and snuff out in waves of raw, shocking physical pain. Starscream was berth-bound for orns upon orns after, physical and sparkchamber pain wracking through him every time he moved or thought or did anything at all. He couldn't recharge, couldn't refuel, couldn't even move. All he could think was that his trine was gone, for good, and it was his fault. He could have done something. Gone with them. Tried to convince Megatron. 

How was it fair that he lived, while they died?

Even now, Starscream wasn't sure his spark had ever recovered. He didn't think it could. He had lost a part of himself, once again. How much more of his spark was there to lose, until Starscream was a dead mech walking? If he wasn't already, that was.

The point was, Starscream had no trine. The one thing he was supposed to always have! There was a hollow emptiness inside him, a void that could never again be filled. How could it be, when there were no seekers left? The last time Starscream had seen anyone that looked like himself was when he had last seen his trine. The last time Starscream had seen a seeker that wasn't his trine was... He could not recall.

And now, he felt that emptiness even more than usual. He was completely, utterly alone, in a way that he hadn't been since his trinemates had first offlined. There had always been someone. Megatron's twisted company had still been company. Their broken, jagged, bloodied dance was at least familiar to Starscream. He knew what to expect. He couldn't say he had taken comfort in the routine - not at all, in fact - but he had known what to expect. Megatron would always be in his life. There was no escape from him, and for better or worse, Starscream would always have him.

As Air Commander, he was always either reporting to Megatron while that silent freak Soundwave stood in the corner, watching, or he was running drills with the Vehicons. The purple drones were dreadful company. They all looked and sounded the same, and they may as well all been the same bot anyway. But they were still company. Some part of his code had attached to them, had attached to the idea of fliers, like him, who were near him at pretty much all times.

It was pathetic, really. His innate need for social connections - built into his very code - in the form of a trine had manifested in such a twisted way, toward beings so much more inferior to himself. As much as it disgusted him, Starscream couldn't help it. He had a natural affinity toward other fliers, and it wasn't hard to pretend that they were other seekers. On occasion, at least.

Megatron always had him doing something. And he was always with someone doing it. It was simple, really. Running drills with the Vehicons. Pretend they were his dead trine and dead friends from before Vos even fell. Megatron slamming him up against the wall, tossing him onto the ground, wrenching the delicate tips of his wings. Pretend they had something other than pure, blistering hatred between them. Once upon a time, they had. Knockout patches him up in the medbay. Pretend he cares about you. Pretend he's Skyfire.

Oh, Primus. Skyfire. There was another void in his life, another hole in his chest, another missing part of his spark. Starscream was sure that Skyfire was the only bot he had ever loved. Really, truly loved. Not out of some selfish desire or out of his own manipulations, but because he simply did, no strings attached. Skyfire was the only bot he was capable of loving. Whatever it was that had allowed him to love before, it was gone now. He didn't think his spark was capable of that anymore.

He had had it all. He had had someone who looked at him like he was their entire world. He had had someone who looked at him like he shone with the light of a million stars. He had had someone who loved him. The only bot who had ever, truly loved him. The bot he was going to ask to be his sparkbond. The bot Starscream would have opened his chest plate and revealed the most vulnerable part of himself to. The bot he would have done anything fore, would still do anything for.

And now, Skyfire was gone. Gone for good. Gone forever. One with the Allspark, or wherever they actually went when they offlined. Somewhere warm and safe and dry with plenty of energon, Starscream hoped. It was a stupid wish. The world was cruel and the world after this one would probably be just as cruel.

He really had lost everything, hadn't he? He really had thrown it all away when he could have had the entire world, hadn't he? Maybe there was a future where his trine would be beside him now, where Skyfire would be beside him now. Where Starscream's spark wouldn't sit, empty and aching, in his spark chamber. Maybe there was a future like that, where Starscream was happy, where he could still be happy, where he hadn't become whatever Megatron had made him.

Maybe. Starscream hoped so. Or did he? Had he deserved his trine at all? Had he deserved Skyfire at all? Had he deserved anything at all? Did he deserve anything now? Did he deserve nothing more than to curl into a ball and rust?

None of it mattered. The fact remained that he was here now, empty and aching and completely, utterly, alone.

Just as he deserved to be.

Chapter Text

The only reason Starscream slipped out of recharge was because of the ache of an empty fuel tank. He had taken to recharging for longer and longer periods of time. Somehow, a deep, deep exhaustion always overcame him - when he wasn't being struck by lightning, chased by Vehicons, or starving, the pain of what he assumed to be simply existing always came back. Starscream had scanned his systems half a dozen times already, and he could detect no issues whatsoever.

The Autobot medic had done a fine enough job on his thigh plate. It was, dare he say, as good as new. The dent on his wing from the lightning strike had mostly fixed itself, and he could no longer feel its ache. The only thing wrong with him was a charred paint job. But he wasn't Knockout; he would live. So why? Why did everything hurt and ache and spasm so much? With every movement, Starscream's plates and cables gave a lurch of protest.

He couldn't understand, but he could only guess that it was vorns of hastily patched injuries coming back to haunt him. Now, of all times, though? Primus's timing was truly golden and apparently tailored to torment Starscream specifically.

Perhaps the one thing he appreciated most about being stuck out here alone in the wilderness was being able to recharge for as long as he wanted. His chronometer had a timer set for the early morning drills he ran - used to ran, that was - but he had disabled it a few cycles ago. When nightmares didn't wake Starscream, nothing could. Something in him was exhausted - exhausted of endless pain and hunger and exhaustion. His life on the Nemesis had not been glamorous, not by any means.

When he wasn't injured from the Autobots, he was injured from Megatron - sometimes more so. There was always a wing dented or a cable loose or bruising on his protoform beneath his armor. Or simply exhaustion from flying as fast as he could go for two or three joors a day. Not only did he run drills, but he also patrolled and went for a fly whenever the ship had become unbearable (whenever Megatron was in a particular mood). Energon was often low, even for Starscream - even when mines were productive, spacebridge production ate up a good bit of their energon. And, of course, Megatron had grown rather fond of denying him fuel whenever he was displeased him.

He was free of all of that now. Energon hadn't gotten any less scarce, of course, and he still seemed to be consistently pushing his frame to its limit, but he was free. His frame was trying to repair something that Starscream wasn't sure could be repaired, but he didn't care. If it meant the pain might stop soon, he didn't care.

Starscream drank his second - and last - cube of energon a little mournfully. It was the first time he'd had properly processed energon since the Nemesis and it was worryingly clear that he had taken that for granted. His frame had grown soft over the vorns, too used to drinking the processed stuff. Raw energon made his fuel tank ache and churn with pain, but what was a little more on top of the pain in the rest of him?

He would still have to find a permanent solution for energon. He could not truly live glancing over his shoulder plate all the time, wondering where his next meal would come from. Starscream had to find... stability. Some measure of it at least, as much as he could. And stability meant energon and energon meant flying in circles trying to detect even the slightest trace of it that wasn't in a Decepticon mine.

And flying in circles meant energon.

. . .

Starscream still had his energon-seeker coding. He had never saw the need to get rid of, and it had proven useful more times than he could count. And the stupid, pathetic, sentimental part of him wanted to keep it. It was, perhaps, the last thing remaining of Starscream's past. The last thing remaining of Vos, of his trine, of Skyfire. Imprinted onto him, deep in his processor. Forever, hopefully. Or for however long he lived. With the way things were looking, that wouldn't be long.

He detected a miniscule, trace amount of energon not far from where he had fallen into recharge the night before. It wouldn't be a long flight, and his fuel tank was almost completely full. Starscream transformed and took to the sky. He had to admit, it felt good to fly up where the air grew thin and cold, where he was close enough to touch the silver chips of stars. Somewhere out there was Cybertron. It was rather fitting that he could no longer it's position in Earth's night sky.

He dove down, wings cutting through an azure sky. He left two steel gray trails of smoke behind him. Starscream twisted and turned, trailing upward and then diving back down. It was times like this when he felt truly weightless - truly free. Earth's strange organics, who had two wings that flapped rather inconveniently, flew beside him. He had to admit, there was a certain charm to the small creatures. They should have feared him. But they didn't. They came up next to him, almost close enough to brush his metal sides.

This planet was no Cybertron. But it was not so bad after all. And there were no ghosts here, no ghosts of his trine, no ghosts of Skyfire, no ghosts of all the others that he had let down - and there were far too many of them to count.

Starscream landed with a heavy thud, sending pain shooting up his heels. He transformed back smoothly, ducking hurriedly behind a conveniently located boulder. He could see a tall, rectangular human compound up ahead - such poor taste in architecture those humans had! It was nothing like the glory of Vos, nothing like the glory of Cybertron. But Starscream had to remind himself that one existed and the other had been pounded to dust before humanity had even existed.

The energon signature was coming from... inside the building. He glanced around and saw no signs of life, Cybertronian or otherwise. Starscream kept an optic out as he crept ever closer to the building. One of the massive doors was half open. He crouched behind it, missiles ready to launch. He heard the whir and churn of something mechanical coming from inside and the low sound of quiet human voices. No bots here, Decepticon or Autobot or otherwise, it seemed.

Starscream wrenched the door open a few inches and peeked inside. His spark nearly stopped. MECH. The fraggers who had tried to dissect Breakdown. He may not have been personally fond of the mech, but it was disturbing to see another of his species reduced to a... science project. It reminded him of how the Senate had treated seekers - had treated anyone slightly different than them. With that same cold, almost clinical indifference.

The Decepticons had done worse in the war. Worse horrors had happened in Shockwave's lab. He didn't want to think about that. He didn't want to think that at some point, he had become just as bad as the ones he had been fighting against in the first place. Or, at least, Starscream had been complaisant. Which was even worse.

Their foul little leader stood with his arms crossed, regarding something mounted on the wall. It looked like... a Cybertronian. Or, at least, what a Cybertronian might look like according to an intoxicated human's half-forgotten memory. It had the bare framework - chassis, arms, legs, helm, optics and what looked like a... t-cog in the chestplate. A heavy helicopter stood in the center of the room. As Starscream watched, a light emitted from the machine - he refused to even consider that it might be alive - and raked over the helicopter, attempting to scan it.

It was apparently a success, as something on their primitive human tech gave a short ring of affirmation. The man at what Starscream assumed was a small datapad gave the leader - Silas, if he recalled correctly - a nod and pressed another button. Screws and bolts began to move and grind inside the machine, but ultimately, nothing happened. Of course nothing did. Assuming they had somehow gotten their hands on a t-cog, only energon could sustain a transformation.

Energon that they had the means to obtain. Humans that could go helm to helm with Cybertronians and come out on top! Just the thought of it was humiliating. But a partnership... Starscream knew Cybertronian biology as well as any mech did, and he had been a scientist once upon a time. Help them complete their science project, and he got his energon. Not forever, probably, but for a fair amount of time.

Part of him had a sinking feeling about all of this. They needed Cybertronian parts to complete their little machine - evidently, they had torn a t-cog from poor mech's chest. Probably a Vehicon, those complaisant fools. And he was a Cyebrtronian, healthy and sitting there like a target, right in front of them. But he had a fuel tank to keep filled. That was his first priority - survival. Without survival, there was no freedom, and Starscream would do anything to keep his freedom.

 He yanked the door open all the way and stepped inside, the metal of his heel struts ringing out against the dark gray floor. He burst out laughing - despite his uneasiness, he could not help it. Trying to replicate living metal with whatever dead variants they had here on Earth? Really? Cybertronians were not simply machines, after all. They were living beings.

"So you are the ones who turned poor Breakdown into a pitiful science project," Starscream sneered, shoving one blade of the helicopter aside. Machines that tried and failed to mimic the effortless air superiority that he possessed. "Didn't learn much from that, did you?"

Almost immediately, dozens upon dozens of lasers became trained on him. Human weapons, though he didn't doubt they could offline him if they tried. There had been more humans lurking in the shadows than he had expected. The dark suits did their jobs well.

"Enough to know where the soft spots are, Decepticon," Silas said with a smirk sharp enough to match Starscream's own.

He fought the urge to roll his optics. "Oh, please. I am no longer affiliated with that particular group of bumbling fools. And besides, if I was here to avenge the big lugnut, you would be screaming for mercy already."

"Why are you here?" the human asked bluntly, crossing his arms over his chest.

"To propose an... alliance," Starscream replied, choosing his words carefully. "You see, we have much more in common than meets the eye. And I am not talking only about our... battle scars."

"What could I possibly gain from such an arrangement?"

"Inside knowledge," he said, drawing out every syllable slowly. "You can't imagine you can finish your little toy soldier with just your planet's primitive technology, do you now?"

Silas seemed to consider for a moment. He raised one hand and the lasers trained on him immediately dropped. "A wise choice, I might say," Starscream said.

He walked cautiously toward the robot mounted on the back wall of the building. "Now, you see, a t-cog is not technology. It is... biology. Which means it will reject any power source other than energon. Energon is the fuel, the ammunition, and the lifeblood of all Cybertronians... whatever their affiliation. You and I both want it, and I currently lack the means of locating it, and once I supply you with the particulars of its chemical make-up, we can use the considerable means of your resources to detect new deposits for us to share."

Starscream dug a claw into a fuel line in his arm, bringing up dripping blue energon. He smeared it along one of the lines leading up to the t-cog of the robot. It began to glow almost immediately. "...If the supply meets MECH's rather significant demand," Silas said. 

"Intending to build an army, are you?"

The human's silence said enough.

. . .

Starscream watched as blue energon dripped from the tube into the robot mounted on the wall. Very, very slowly, one of the digits on its servos began to twitch. Had energon really done the trick? Was this really his ticket to -

A loud bang! ripped through the silence of the interior of the building. MECH agents crept forward immediately, guns trained on the opposite wall. More clangs echoed through the building as something - or someone - slammed up against the wall. The metal began to dent rapidly, and then some more, before it broke entirely. Rubble collapsed inwards, dust rising in clouds. When it had cleared, the little yellow Autobot scout stood there, optics blazing.

Starscream's processor worked fast. It must have been his t-cog that MECH had stolen. It had to be, where else would they have gotten what was effectively an alien organ? Without it, their robot was just another collection of scrap metal. And - an army, was it? How many more did they intend to take?

A Cybertronian with no transformation capabilities was akin to a seeker with no trine - which was to say, nothing at all. T-cogs of half-decent quality were in short supply here - Cybertronians were in short supply here. And they had much to learn still about the biology of Starscream's kind, of what made them the deadly killing machines that they were. Breakdown had just been the beginning, and look at what they had done to him.

MECH didn't see Autobot or Decepticon. They didn't even see Cybertronian. All they saw was a pile of meat ready for them to butcher. Just like the Senate had seen Vos as a golden platter full of resources to bomb to dust once they were done with it. All they wanted was power for themselves and their own kind. And Starscream had played right into their hands.

An army. A mindless army consisting of honest to Primus war machines, all at the command of a man who only wanted power. He may have been a completely different species, but Starscream knew the look in those eyes. It was the same look in Megatron's eyes, the same look he had had as he slipped further and further from the ideals he had once embodied, the same look he had as he became just as bad as their oppressors. As the Decepticons abandoned whatever it was they had been fighting for in the first place, and began to fight instead for Megatron's own selfish means. All those dead - his entire kind, his trine, even every Vehicon blindly sacrificed... It had all been for nothing, it had all been to fight a meaningless war that should have ended eons ago, one that had destroyed their very home, had destroyed Starscream's home, had destroyed everything he had ever had and everything he could have had, one that was destroying this planet now, one that had destroyed his kind's past, present, and future. One that would eventually destroy them all.

That was the warpath MECH was on. So what if it was on a planet populated by organics that were not even a fragment of the glory Cybertron used to have? So what? Did it really matter? Did it matter who or what a tyrant was, or did it only matter the trail of destruction they left?

How had it taken him this long to realize he was wrong?

And why, why on Primus, had he ever offered to help a man who was just like Megatron? A man who was just like the mech that had once torn off both his wings, that had killed his brothers, that had tried to kill him more times than he could even count anymore. The mech that had promised to never hurt him again and then turned around and left him in a sticky, filthy pool of his own energon, vocalizer too broken to even beg.

When had Starscream become just as bad as Megatron? Somewhere down the line he had stopped deserving anything at all, and this only made him more sure of that fact.

He was free now. He was never going back. He was never going back to this wretched war. It had taken everything from it. He refused to let it take more. He was never going back to Megatron or to the Decepticons or to the rotten cause they served, some horrific caricature of what had once been. And he was certainly never going back to a tyrant of any kind, anywhere, of any species. 

So what, then? Was the choice between two evils to simply not choose? To simply walk away? To flee? Like a coward? But Starscream had always been a coward. 

So he turned away from MECH and toward the hole in the wall. So he transformed with the t-cog still in his chest. So he did the only thing he knew how to do anymore, the only thing he had ever done.

Starscream ran.

Chapter Text

Starscream's energon problem remained unsolved. His fuel tank was half-full, so he had one or two solar-cycles - maybe. And during that time, he could forget fighting or even flying too much. Energon was expended every waking and sleeping moment, and he had found that the best way to conserve was to lay perfectly still. Starscream flew through the night sky away from the Autobot, away from MECH for as long as he dared to.

There was a certain beauty to Earth's night sky, to the chips of diamond that hung in the sky like jewels scattered across a dark fabric. Starscream kept looking for familiar constellations, the ones he had grown up with on Cybertron. And he kept coming up empty, finding only stars arranged into patterns he had no words whatsoever for. Maybe Cybertron was in one of them, as part of some creature he couldn't even dream up.

Maybe Earth's star had been in one of their constellations. Maybe he had looked up at this planet before without knowing it. Maybe. Part of Starscream would never stop longing for Cybertron, would never stop longing for a place that didn't exist anymore. Even if he went back, nothing await him there, just rusted out buildings and bombed out cities and the still-rotting corpses of Autobots and Decepticons alike, left to fester in the servos of vermin like the scraplets.

That was what they had reduced their planet to. It was the Autobot's fault as much as it was the Decepticon's, and Starscream held no love for either side, not anymore. He had thought that he hadn't had a choice. That the best choice was the Decepticons. However destructive their methods, they had a vision for a better world that they would stop at nothing to achieve. The old world had to be torn down to build up a new one, and Starscream had gladly joined in.

But somewhere along the destruction, they had forgotten to build a new world back up. And by then, they had long forgotten how to build and only knew how to destroy. Starscream had been complicit in that too, no matter how pure his intentions - and they had never been pure to begin with. He thrown Vos's might blindly behind Megatron in some twisted bid for power, and then had stayed with the Decepticons in another bid for power.

There was no lesser or greater evil. There was only evil, and evil was that wretched war. The only right choice was to not choose at all. To leave it all behind and flee. That would have made him a coward, but when had Starscream not been a coward? He could have taken his trine somewhere far away. They could have been safe. They could have been happy. Maybe then his trinemates would still be alive. Maybe he would be happy. Maybe he could have a future beyond blind survival for survival's sake.

That was in the future, though. The long, long future. He searched the files on his HUD for a set of coordinates - any, really. Starscream just needed a place to fly toward, blindlessly, aimlessly, so that his processor could finally stop racing and he could finally be alone with the sky. The first coordinate that popped up was the Harbinger. Where this madness (he still had not decided if his newfound freedom was a good or bad thing) had all started.

Airachnid had probably picked it clean. Infuriating as she was, Starscream had to admit that the overgrown spider was competent. Megatron seemed to trust her, at least, but he had lost his mind vorns ago. Whatever the case, the Decepticons would not return. The Autobots, too, had cleared it out. There was no reason for either side to return to the broken, rusting frame of a Decepticon warship. A perfect place for him to hide.

Starscream flew through the night in complete and utter silence. Even his processor had stopped racing with thoughts upon thoughts for once, though his spark continued to pound out an unsteady, jerky rhythm within its chamber. Part of him wondered where it had all begun to go wrong - but he preferred not to think about that. Every single possibility had worn smooth circles into his mind already, exhausted as he was from thinking and thinking and thinking.

The only thing there was to do now was to keep going and to survive. Otherwise, what even was the point of all the suffering Starscream had endured and managed to survive over the eons? It would render all of it meaningless, if he did not make something out of it. Something better. Besides, the past was the past and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't change it. Starscream had nothing left but his freedom and his will to live, the latter of which seemed to be dwindling as of late.

The question of what he would even do once he was safe enough to stop worrying about food and constantly glancing over his shoulder remained. He didn't know a life without war, without pain, without suffering. Part of Starscream was tempted to crawl back to the Nemesis and throw himself at Megatron's pedes and beg for forgiveness. Because that was familiar. Their perpetual motions of pain were familiar to him. He knew it. He knew Megatron.

He knew where each blow would land and he knew how much it would hurt. There was no pain that Starscream didn't predict or know. He knew what a broken cockpit felt like. He knew what a twisted wing felt like. He knew what no wings felt like. He knew what protoform bruising felt like. He knew what broken limbs felt like. He knew what mangled vocalizers and twisted cables felt like. He knew what the ache of a painfully empty fuel tank felt like. He knew the shadowy pain of slipping into stasis, of the otherworldly sensation of his frame no longer being able to sustain itself.

Knowing didn't make it hurt any less. But knowing made it predictable. Made it familiar. Made it safe, even. Starscream didn't have to think about what came next, or what he would do next in order to survive. The beatings hurt, but they were normal! Megatron knew better than to kill him, after all. If he was lucky, he might even slip into unconsciousness before it was over and wake up, before he knew it, as good as new in the medbay. Or, about as good as Knockout could get him.

Seekers were specialized, delicate instruments. Their biology and framework wasn't quite like any other type of Cybertronian. And Starscream was the only seeker he knew still alive. Parts for him were hard to find. They couldn't simply be found in storage or torn from the nearest Vehicon corpse. They had to be adapted, copied from his very CNA, or, more often than not, haphazardly replaced in a way that just barely worked.

More than half of him, probably, at this point, wasn't his original frame. It was patchy, shoddy repairs made of improvised scrap metal hastily welded together. Knockout was a smart mech. He knew how to work with what he had and how to keep Starscream alive and in working condition for Megatron. But it never felt quite... right. Sometimes it even hurt. He was painfully aware of every screw and bolt and plate that wasn't a part of him, not really, even now.

Starscream made good time. He flew as fast as he could without burning too much energon, and soon enough, his internal systems told him that he drew near. He flew over starlight soaked sandstoe valleys, littered with boulders. He watched the way the moonlight cascaded over orange stone, watched the way the shadows rose and fell. For a moment, he hovered, unwilling to go elsewhere and unwilling to land. In the sky, there was no past or future to be worried about, not even a present, simply an in-between where all was peaceful and everything was alright.

Of course, nothing was alright.

Starscream landed and transformed. The valley was virtually untouched and the massive, hulking shape of one half of the Harbinger remained nestled amongst the rocks where he had last seen it. He glanced around, the ruby red of his optics startling against the pitch blackness of night. Starscream's optics felt unusually heavy. Every part of him ached with pain, pain that he couldn't quite place.

Then again, when had it not?

. . .

The inside of the Harbinger was warm and dry. He found a room with a door that opened and closed. It had been a tool storage room of some kind. Most of the equipment was rusted beyond measure, but some of it was still useful. Starscream rummaged around out of curiosity - and because he was not too sure he would be able to fall into recharge tonight. There was too much on his mind, too much that had happened.

All these years, Starscream had been wrong. The Decepticons had lost whatever way they'd had, if any, long ago. Maybe from the beginning. Starscream had been wrong. And so it had all been for nothing. The death of his trine had been for nothing. The fall of Vos had been for nothing. Every blow from Megatron had been for nothing. It had all been for nothing. And now he was paying the price - just look at him, trineless and starving with absolutely nothing left.

He had wasted vorns of his life for a cause that was rotten to the core. Why? And how could Starscream have been so blind?

His claws closed around what he assumed was a solder. Starscream clicked the button on the side and it sputtered to life in his hands, heat smoldering along the thick line of metal. He looked down at his chest plate, where the purple insignia of the Decepticons had been burned into. Did he want it there anymore? Or did he want to forget? Did he finally want to be something else? Could Starscream be something else? Anything else?

He drew his claws over his chest, in-vented deeply, and raked them down. Energon began to drip almost immediately. Starscream gritted his dentae against the pain and kept clawing at the metal. More energon dripped. Finally, the sharp edges of his claws sank into something and he tore a thin layer of metal free, sending it clattering onto the ground. He raised the solder to his chest plate and patched up the whole the best he could.

It was woefully uneven, raised and lumpy in some places. The shine of the new metal contrasted the dull, dented sheen of his old armor. But he didn't care. For the first time in vorns, his chassis was smooth and empty. 

Starscream belonged to no one. He called no one master. He bowed for no one. He knelt for no one.

He was free at last, and nothing mattered more than that.

Chapter Text

The Harbinger had energon on it. Starscream wasn't quite sure how it hadn't been discovered already - then again, he was the only mech he knew who could detect energon signatures. It was hidden in a compartment under the once-smooth, once-shiny metal tiles of the ship. He had felt a trace coming from under the ground and had spent an embarrassing amount of time trying to dig a hole under it, before he accidentally stepped on a hidden lever, leaving the ground to collapse under his pedes and him to fall onto a pile of pre-packaged energon. It was fairly low-grade, intended for common foot soldiers - just enough to sustain a functional frame but not particularly filling or with a particularly good taste.

Still, he had some security, at least for the near future. After Starscream's fuel tank was comfortably full, he paced the length of the entire downed half of the ship. He opened any doors that could be opened and looked for anymore hidden levers. There were none, fortunately or unfortunately. He found a room full of protoforms, which he regarded with interest for quite some time. More Cybertronians... At the rate things were going, they'd be extinct soon.

Still, Starscream didn't like the way their blank, dead optics seemed to follow him. The machinery still seemed to be working. He could, perhaps, clone himself, but the thought of more Starscreams in the world made him wince. 

He closed the door carefully back behind him.

Starscream found nothing else of interest, so he retreated back into the energon compartment. It was dank and filthy, smelling of mildew and some sort of rotting organic carcass. But his energon was in there, and he would sooner offline than let go of it. He crept back up to the storage chamber as the sun began to rise outside. He hadn't recharged all night and yet no part of him was tired. Some sort of adrenaline continued to rush throughout Starscream.

He, once again, found nothing of note. He brought the solder back down with him. Starscream entertained himself for a breem or two by drawing increasingly morbid pictures of a cartoonish Megatron meeting a variety of violent deaths in molten metal on the ground of the energon compartment. Then he remembered that if he got hurt again - and he was sure he would - he would need the solder to sew himself back together. Primus forbid he crawl back to those wretched Autobots again.

He scraped Megatron's many deaths off the ground, leaned against a stack of energon cubes, and slipped into recharge. For once, there were no nightmares. For once, Starscream did not dream at all.

. . .

Once he awoke, Starscream resolved to go look for more energon. He would run out eventually, and he needed a good, steady source. If he could find an untouched, unguarded deposit, he could repair some of the machinery aboard the Harbinger and modify it accordingly. It had been a long, long time since the Academy of Science, but Starscream remembered all that he needed to. Sometimes, he wondered if that had been those had been the happiest cycles of his entire life.

Those were the days before the war - long before the war, when violence was unthinkable, when the missiles on his arms hadn't been attached yet, when his frame hadn't even been weaponized yet. Those were the days before he was Winglord, when power was a far-off dream, as it perhaps still was. Starscream was simply a bright-eyed seeker who'd been lucky enough to get into the Academy, an institute that discriminated rather notoriously against fliers, wandering the streets of Iacon, stunned speechless by the sheer wealth and grandeur put on blatant display.

Starscream had been aware of the deep gashes in Cybertronian society, even then, but it had been easier to ignore. He had no business being invested in it - he would get an education, get a decently paying job back home in Vos, and live an ordinary life with his trine. The biggest plight in his life was his studies. And that was where Starscream had met Skyfire. Even then, even the first time Starscream had laid optics on him, he had been beautiful, all red and blue and white and smooth, shiny plating.

They were two of perhaps half a dozen fliers in Starscream's graduating class. Skyfire wasn't a seeker, but they were similar enough, and both utterly alone in a brand new city. He could still recall, even now, those long nights they spent working side by side, illuminated only by the dim blue glow of their datapads. There was a certain softness to it, a softness that would get them both killed now. He had taken it for granted, hadn't he?

Starscream had taken so much for granted.

If only you were here, Skyfire. Maybe then nothing would be so confusing and terrible. Maybe you could fix things. Maybe you could fix me.

Starscream laughed at that thought. He was past fixing. He was broken and shattered beyond repair, and the best thing to do about that was to accept it.

After a quick glance outside the Harbinger to confirm that no one was lurking, Starscream transformed and took flight, scanning the ground below him for any traces of energon, however miniscule. Beneath him, vast green forests and rolling golden fields of wheat unfurled. His wing tips grew wet with the mist of the clouds. He twisted and dove and turned in the sky, in the one place that was so vast and limitless that he would be free forever.

At last, he detected energon. A lot of energon. Starscream swooped down and transformed back. He spotted a narrow opening between two boulders. A cave. The thought of darkness, of being trapped from the sky, of thousands of pounds of stone bearing down to him was enough to make his spark nearly stop. But he kept going, putting one pede in front of the other until he stood directly in front of the cave. 

Starscream ducked down, pleasantly surprised to find a tunnel that was tall enough for him to stand comfortably. Wait. A tunnel? He glanced around to find perfectly smooth, slightly rounded walls that extended some way down into the ground. Someone had been here before him, that much was clear. This was not natural. And Cybertronian, too. No human would dig a tunnel this tall. And he had one particular tunnelling spider in mind.

There was clearly energon here, then. Starscream gritted his dentae and kept going. He would just take a quick look. Who was to say it was her? And who was to say that she was here at this exact moment?

A few kliks later, Starscream found himself standing in a wide, dark chamber. His optics caught the sheen of cobalt blue - could it be? Starscream walked closer, his pedefalls as quiet as he could physically make them. Indeed, it was. A small shard of energon poked out of the wall a little above his helm. Perfect. And now he would get out of here as fast as he could and return later with whatever machinery he could scavenge from the ship and -

Starscream's audials picked up the clicking of metallic feet against cold stone. And the tell-tale groans of an Insecticon. His energon ran cold. Insecticons? Here? Now? On Earth? Against his better judgement, Starscream followed the sound, crouching behind a wall of rock and peeking over it. 

There it was. A massive Insecticon, back turned to him, clawing and sniffing at the wall of rock in front of it. Starscream's spark began to pound. He didn't make a sound - how could he, when that thing was right in front of him? It would tear his slender frame apart like tissue paper. His pedesteps were too loud and transforming was certainly not an option - he had to get out of here - but his pedes would not listen to him, no part of him would listen to him.

He watched, frozen in panic, as the Insecticon slammed one talon into the wall and pulled out a huge chunk of glowing blue energon. So it was here, and in abundance, too. Alright, now it was really time to turn around and return to the Harbinger. Starscream did so, but he had neglected to turn his optics back to the ground beneath his pedes. His heels struts crunched over a bit of soft rock. The sound rang out around the otherwise deathly silent chamber.

The Insecticon frozen, dropping the energon. Very slowly, it began to turn, blood red optics fixed on him. Starscream forgot how to move, forgot how to transform momentarily. Then the nauseating pound of his own spark snapped him back to reality. He scrambled backward, wings colliding with the wall. Nowhere to run, nowhere to turn, nowhere to -

Behind him! Starscream ducked and crawled into a divot in the stone, barely large enough for him to squeeze himself into. The Insecticon followed, taking worryingly slow strides. Starscream went backwards as much as he could, before his wingtips slammed into hard stone again.

The Insecticon clawed at the walls of the divot, manibles clicking. Starscream stared into red optics that mirrored his own, pinned in place with fear. They continued to look at each other for what felt like forever, before the creature gave a grunt and turned away. Dust fell from the ceiling of the small tunnel where Starscream was crouched, raining onto him. The beast trudged away, toward the corner of the chamber.

Starscream heard the thin, metallic click-click-click of - Airachnid. She was here too? Here? Now? Could his luck get any worse? There she was, in all her sick, twisted, purple and gold glory. The Insecticon delivered its energon to hear as she cooed and talked to it, most of which Starscream didn't bother to listen to. He was too busy thinking of how he could get back to the Harbinger without a snuffed spark, and preferably in one solid piece.

He noticed that one of her legs was missing at the joint - Autobots, perhaps? But then again, if she was here, relying on Insecticons for energon, she, too, had to have gotten on Megatron's bad side, or had deserted of her own volition. 

Once upon a time Starscream would have proposed an alliance, but he knew that she would stab him in the back the first chance she got. And he was free now, free from everything. He would not get involved in the war again, or in the affairs of any Cybertronians, not if it killed him. She was too volatile, too dangerous, for him to bother with in his current state.

Then another thought occured to Starscream. A rogue Decepticon in an untapped energon deposit with an Insecticon on the loose seemingly under her command. This was golden information to feed the Autobots, and seeing as there was no sign of their presence here, they had not yet found her. In exchange, he could get his energon, and perhaps get into their good graces. He had just said that he would not be involved in the war any longer but it was not a matter of allegiance, it was a matter of survival.

He had a lot of Decepticon intel. If Starscream played his cards right, he could survive. With his immediate survival taken care of, he could begin to concern himself with other things. Whatever that might mean.

Starscream craned his neck, looking for where he had entered the cave from. Now, while the Insecticon was fixated on Airachnid's every words, and while she was staring right into its soulless eyes. Starscream crawled out of the hole in the wall, jumped to his pedes and ran faster than he had ever run. He didn't bother to glance over his shoulder or to conceal his pedesteps. There was no hiding or fighting; only running.

He didn't hear the tell-tale clicks of her eight wretched feet, though, so he figured he was alright. Starscream nearly collapsed in relief when he saw the bright spot of daylight at the mouth of the tunnel. He transformed immediately and flew upwards, going as high as he dared.

He was safe in the air. He was always safe in the air.

Starscream pulled up his HUD. He still had Ratchet's commlink, which by some miracle was actually open to him. He couldn't risk sending another signal, not with Airachnid nearby and the Decepticons surely prowling somewhere close. He hesitated. He didn't necessarily have to do this. Starscream had plenty of energon, and he now knew where another deposit was - if only that eight-legged creep hadn't gotten there before him!

Regardless, he was in a good spot. He didn't have to put himself into even more danger, associate with the Autobots any further. But something compelled him to - be it his hatred for the Decepticons, his hatred for Airachnid, or simply his unwillingness to starve again. I have information, he wrote. Bring energon. Send. Brief and simple, not hostile but not overly eager, either.

He sent his current coordinates, and then dove down and landed, transforming swiftly. He wasn't going to risk giving away the fact that he was hiding in the wreck of the Harbinger to either faction. Starscream just wanted to be left alone - nothing more, nothing less.

He received no message back, but a small ping! indicated that his message had been read. Starscream leaned against the thick trunk of a tree, anxiety curling inside of him. He had no idea what he was doing. But he was alive and he was away from Megatron, and he would take that any cycle over whatever he had had, whatever he had been before.

After about a breem, Starscream heard the tell-tale whirl of a groundbridge opening. He stared at the bright, swirling greens and purples, willing time to move faster so he could get this over with and get his energon. After a moment, Arcee and Bulkhead stepped through. Their servos were transformed into blasters. Starscream raised his servos, showing that he was unarmed. He was outnumbered and he had no intentions of starting a pointless fight he could not win. He winced a little - the last time he had seen them, he had been bleeding half to death. Not his best moment. Although, these days, his life was just a string of moments that were most certainly not his best.

"Give me my energon first," he drawled, abandoning his lean on the tree in favor of standing straight. Starscream held no power here, not really, but he could still pretend. He was good at pretending.

"You talk first," Bulkhead said, one servo transforming from a blaster back into his signature wrecking ball.

Starscream rolled his optics. The Autobots were too sickeningly moralistic to stab him in the back; that much he knew. Still, it was entertaining to play the little games that he did. "The eight-legged little glitch is on the move again," he said. "Struck out on her own, I would imagine, though certainly not as successfully as me."

"Because that's exactly what it looks like," Arcee said. Her voice was smooth but Starscream caught the slight tremor that went through her frame at the mention of Airachnid and the darkening of her optics. 

Their commlinks were open. Starscream sent the coordinates to the cave that he had thankfully remembered to log. "She's hiding in some hole in the ground," he said. "There's energon there too, which I'd imagine would be of spectacular use, given your faction's rather signature lack of it."

Arcee pointed a blaster at him, letting out a hiss of frustration. "And you're one to talk! If I remember correctly, you begged us for energon."

"I traded for it! There's a difference. And how is our dear Prime anyways?"

Before she could blow his head off, Starscream went on with what he actually needed to say. "There are Insecticons with her."

The two Autobots exchanged glances, faceplates the very picture of shock. "Don't ask me how or why they got here!" he said. "That's all I know."

They glanced at each other again. The silence grew uncomfortable - but nothing about the exchange had been comfortable. "That all?"

"Well, yes! That's what I just said! Now, my energon?"

His energon was more or less thrown at his pedes, but Starscream didn't care. He had gotten back at that fragger Airachnid for taking away the last thing that mattered to him - his rank. Now he had nothing to lose and there was no line he would not cross.

The blue femme glanced at the groundbridge that her companion had retreated back into. "It's not over," she said quietly. "Cliffjumper. That's not over between us."

Starscream smiled. "I wouldn't imagine otherwise."

He watched her go through the groundbridge, feeling a strange sort of bitter emptiness. What was that feeling? Remorse? Guilt? He wasn't a bleeding softspark like Prime was. He did what he had to do to survive and he didn't look back. Megatron had fully intended to dispose of Starscream, and he had simply offered up the solution that would keep himself alive. Who... who wouldn't do that?

Maybe reanimating his corpse had been justified, if not slightly morbid. But killing Cliffjumper in the first place? Why had he done that? Starscream could come up with no answers, as he couldn't with most of the questions that made his processor run in confused circles.

There was energon on his claws, much more than he cared to count or think about. Cliffjumper was entirely in the past and Starscream knew better than to dwell on the past, to dwell on the things already said and done, that could not be changed. But he couldn't help it, couldn't help the worry that ran through him, that sent his spark pounding and pounding. The two Autobots had cared for each other, that much was clear.

If someone had snuffed Skyfire's spark... Even then, even as a helpless little Academy student who's greatest obstacle and worry in life was the next research paper, he would have been heartbroken, would have vowed revenge, would have vowed to make things right somehow, in whatever way he could. If someone had snuffed Skyfire's spark and bragged about it to his face, had been so flippant and casual about it, as if the most important person in the entire world to Starscream's life was a worthless passing thought...

No. No. He couldn't afford to regret his decisions. He couldn't afford to become trapped in the past, when the present was so painful and the future so uncertain.

You did what you had to do. You were at war. You did what anyone would have done.

Had he, though? Had Starscream really not had a choice? There was always a choice. Megatron would have ordered their prisoner killed eventually, after they wrung out whatever information he had in him out. Probably through torture. Starscream had done him a favor, really. But did it make the fact that he had slaughtered him in cold blood any less true?

The Autobots certainly would have chosen differently. When he had surrendered to them, they could have killed him. Arcee had wanted to, but even she got a grip on herself, if only briefly. Prime had said that everyone had the capacity in them for change. Even when faced with the mech who had killed one of his own, who had been his enemy for uncountable vorns. Starscream had always viewed Autobot kindness as a weakness - how many chances had they gotten to end the war, or at least to turn its tide, that they had thrown away in the name of morality?

But at least they could look at their reflection and stare into their own eyes and recognize themselves. At least they could reconcile who they were now with who they used to be. At least they didn't feel whatever the feeling was that had settled uncomfortably into Starscream's spark chamber.

He didn't know what to do.

He never did.

Chapter Text

Starscream swooped downward rapidly, leaving two steel gray trails of smoke behind him. Beneath him, as far as the optic could see, pale blue, glittering arctic ice stretched out. He could almost see the shadows of dark blue dancing beneath the ice - water frozen deep beneath it that would unfreeze come spring. They looked like purplish-blue phantoms trapped beneath the ice, pressing up against it. Or maybe he was just being dramatic.

Skyfire trailed after him, firing up his engines to fly nose-to-nose with Starscream. They were making good time and they would be at the data collection sight soon. The cold of the unfamiliar planet seemed to seep right into the seams of his armor, down to the protoform. How did anything live in a place like this?

But he couldn't say that flying through the crisp, cold air wasn't an enormous pleasure. He trailed back upwards, thrusting his engines into exhaust, until he broke through the clouds. Skyfire was right behind him, twisting and weaving between thick white clouds like the strange aquatic creatures they had seen on the flight across the ice. No words were spoken between them, but none were needed. The silence between them was not uncomfortable - rather, it felt good. It felt... right.

Starscream watched as a thick blanket of clouds passed by under them. Above him was a brilliant, cloudlessly azure sky. Come night, stars scattered like tiny jewels across a crisp dark fabric - certainly an improvement from Iacon's smog-clouded skies! The spray of an unfamiliar galaxy unfurled like some great, milky white ribbon. Somewhere in the sky, one of those stars was Cybertron, waiting for them to come home.

Their end-of-year project was a nice change of pace. Off-world trips were rare and often dangerous and also ludicrously expensive. Starscream had money, but the Academy was expensive enough as was. And he got to spend time with Skyfire, blissfully alone! Without the stress of a seemingly endless barrage of schoolwork, there was so much less tension in his frame, and he felt lighter and happier. His best friend, too, was happier, freer, lighter - Starscream wished that they could do this more often. Nothing meant more to him than seeing Skyfire happy, and he was happy all the time now.

By the time they returned to Cybertron with new, fresh, never-before-seen research, their second year at the Academy would soon be starting. It wasn't too much to look forward to; only that it meant being one pedestep closer to graduation and therefore to the rest of his life. With Skyfire. With his trine. The future was daunting - Starscream didn't know what he was going to do with his life, or what waited for him back home in Vos. There was too much to worry about now that he was of age and technically expected to provide for himself. But if Sky was there then it would all be alright. He could withstand the woes of life if it meant seeing him smile. He would probably make even filing taxes enjoyable.

Starscream still didn't know what he would study for the next three years and maybe beyond. Graduate school! Even more money and even more schoolwork. His fuel tank cramped up just thinking about it. The problem was, he enjoyed everything. Chemistry was fascinating, and he still held onto the faint sparklinghood-hope that he would be the one to finally solve the synthetic energon formula. There was no need for it, of course, with tons and tons of energon being pulled out of the ground every day, but Cybertron's best chemists had puzzled over it for years. How could the very lifeblood of all Cybertronians ever be made in a lab, after all? Biology, too, caught his interest. That was why he was here now, studying, of all things, carbon-based lifeforms. Carbon! How had they managed that? And made of... flesh, not metal. How could anything be so small and fragile and still survive?

Every branch of science fascinated him to seemingly no end. Starscream wanted to do it all, but most of all, he wanted to do something good. Not just for himself and Skyfire, though he would have done anything for them and their future. He just needed Sky and a small apartment in the city and a few datapads and his trinemates next door, and he would be the happiest mech alive. But still there was that deep-rooted ambition to be something more! To go down in history. To have even the Senate and the Primes know his name. To discover something so monumental that even uncountable vorns later his work would be studied. To be something more than just yourself...

Sky didn't particularly share his ambitions. He wanted a good-paying job right out of university that would keep the two of them fed, happy, and together. But no matter what Starscream chose, he knew that Skyfire would follow him, whether it was to the icy poles of a planet far, far from home, or to another city, or graduate school, or anywhere, really.

A ping popped up on his HUD, indicating that the logged coordinates were within optic-sight. Get ready to land! he commed Skyfire. Coordinates are ahead.

What do you think we'll find? Sky replied immediately, as he always did. Starscream began to descend, the shimmer of ice growing closer and closer.

Who knows? Hopefully something exciting. His processor was already whirling with possibilities - sentient lifeforms unlike anything they had envisioned before that were completely alien. They had already encountered them - carbon-based lifeforms that relied on, of all things, the flesh of other organics (barbaric!) or the very light from their distant star (fascinating! how? by what means?). But sentient lifeforms? Now that would get them a solid grant from the Academy, and a chance to prove that seekers could do everything grounders could do.

Starscream transformed and landed, pedes falling heavily onto thin ice that immediately cracked below him. He winced, stepping quickly aside to avoid plunging into the freezing water. He had already made that mistake once before two days ago. It had taken way too long for Skyfire to quit laughing at him, once he had pulled him back up and out of the water.

Sky landed next to him, pedes unsteady on the slick, slippery ice. Starscream reached out, wrapping an arm around his waist to steady him. The sudden contact made both of them blush momentarily. "Let's get out data," Skyfire said. "And then get back to the ship. It's freezing out here."

Starscream smiled at him, looking into those cobalt optics, cobalt like the snow and ice all around them, like the bubbles beneath their pedes that bent and danced. His spark stuttered a little, even after so long. Part of him was still anxious, knowing the absolute weight that today held. His semester grade hinged on it, sure, but there was something even more important that needed to be done. The most important thing that Starscream would ever do, probably. Because Sky was the most important thing to him.

He was going to ask Skyfire to be his sparkmate that night. Under the stars of an alien sky, where there was only the quiet echos of the ice and them, alone, peaceful and perfect. The rest of his life started now. No matter what Starscream's future looked like, Sky would be right there with him, sparks and coding joined on the most fundamental level possible, and that meant it would all be alright, for all his anxiety regarding the future.

"I love you," he breathed out. It felt good to say it, for perhaps the hundredth time that day,

Sky's face broke into a wide, golden smile and Primus if it wasn't warm enough to melt the plates of ice all around them. "Love you too, Star."

. . .

It didn't take long for the organic lifeforms they needed date from to come wandering close. Starscream spotted strange, avian like beings in the air that flew like he did, flapping feathered appendages. They were so small, and yet they kept to the air with the same smooth grace that he did. A large, lumbering white creature with four legs and large, clawed pedes watched them from a distance. Two miniature ones peeked out from behind its legs. Skyfire gasped. "Sparklings! I wonder, how would organics even create sparklings? And two? At the same time?"

"Probably completely different from anything we're imagining," Starscream pointed out. "Life here has evolved completely differently."

The white creature and its two sparklings continued to watch warily, before turning away and heading toward wherever it was they needed to go. Small bubbles began to pop out of a circular hole in the ice. Skyfire and Starscream leaned over it curiously - bubbles had preceded other aquatic lifeforms they saw, which, to their best guesses, required oxygen, despite living in the water. These creatures may not have been sentient, but they had adapted beautifully to their admittedly harsh environment. Starscream leaned a little too close and nearly toppled it. Skyfire grabbed his servo, steadying them both, shooting him an amused smile. "Careful, we still need that data."

After a few kliks, a round white creature with fluffy fur scrambled out of the hole, shaking water droplets from its rotund body. It had wide, clear, dark optics that regarded the two mechs curiously. "It's so..." Skyfire seemed to search for the right words for a moment.

"Squishable?"

"I was thinking more 'adorable.' But that works too."

The creature lumbered about on the ice for a few breems, before disappearing back through another hole. They must have stayed there for a few jours, watching the life all around them. At some point Starscream had taken Skyfire's servo in his own. He didn't intend to let go, now or ever. "It's cold and miserable here," he said. "But it's... it's nice with you. Really nice."

"I can say the exact same, Star. There's no one else I would rather be here with."

"It's exciting, though, isn't it? Having our whole entire lives ahead of us?" Starscream said. "We have vorns and vorns more to live; who knows what we'll accomplish during that time. We could win prizes. We could do ground-breaking research. We could have everything."

"I don't care about any of that," Sky said, digits clenching around his. "It would be nice, yeah. But only if it's with you. Only if that's what you want."

"And if I want something different?"

"Then I'll follow you there. I know you'd follow me back, wherever I chose to go. I don't even really care all that much, if it's with you."

Starscream's spark finally ceased pounding. If it's with you. By the end of the night, his and Sky's sparks would be one, and they would be on the path to having it all. Together.

He turned his helm up, optics regarded the rapidly darkening sky. They had gathered significant data about the organisms here, the weather, the atmosphere, and just about everything else they could think of. There looked to be a storm brewing on the horizon. If they made good time, they would be back to their warm, dry ship before then. Flying through this planet's rain and lightning wasn't exactly fun, but the promise of another soft, peaceful night made Starscream willing to risk it.

No words passed between them, but none were needed. Starscream and Skyfire transformed, taking off and preparing to head back the same direction they had come from. They would have to make good time, if they didn't want to get wet.

He thought as he flew, as he frequently did. About this planet and about how he could best interpret his data into something that could actually be presented to their professors. But mostly about what Starscream was going to ask Sky back at the ship. It was the biggest commitment a Cybertronian could make - to expose the most vulnerable, sincere part of themself to the one they wanted to join their very soul to. Were they ready for that? Was he doing too much, too fast? But it had been jours already, and Starscream could already see a future with the mech flying beside him, golden and rose-tinted.

Unfortunately, the racing in his processor took away from his admittedly more environmental awareness. The storm's coming our way, Skyfire warned through their commlink.

Starscream felt a snowflake against his wingtips. He winced. The storm was drawing closer and faster than he had thought. Let's go faster. Hopefully we can be home before sundown.

He gave his engines a little shove and he sped up almost instantly, wings cutting through the air smoothly. Sky followed. The snow only grew heavier and heavier, which was alarming, to say the least. All it did was get him wet, but some little part of him felt incredibly worried. Why? He had flown through storms before. Starscream wasn't exactly a bad flier, either. Neither of them were.

So what did he have to worry about?

. . .

No matter how high he flew or how low he dived, he always seemed to be in the midst of heavy gray clouds and whirling snowflakes. Somewhere along the line they had transformed from harmless spots of white that melted quickly into water and into miniature balls of ice. They rained down on Starscream, battering against his plating. He was vaguely aware of Skyfire's figure trailing behind him. The storm interfered with their comm frequencies, and he couldn't afford to transform and reach the ground to talk, not unless their ship was within a running distance.

The wind whirled and screamed like some sort of primal, trapped beast straining to break free. It blew exactly opposite to the direction they flew in. Every motion forward was hard, like shoving up against a brick wall. Starscream powered up his engines again but a ping popped up on his HUD - low energon! He must have blown more than he had expected trying to fight the gusts of wing coming his way rapidly. They never seemed to cease or even break.

Sleet turned to fist-sized balls of hail raining down on the two of them - Starscream couldn't see Skyfire. He could barely see two feet in front of him in the smoky dark sky, against the hundreds of thousands of hail balls raining down to the ground, let alone risk a glance behind him to check on kKy. The storm had to end soon. Their ship would be up ahead. He had faith in that much. But did he? Did he really?

He attempted to pull up his map on his HUD, and was confronted instead with an error message. Something about the wind and the hail and the temperature was interfering with Starscream's systems. No map and no commlink, only a set of half remembered coordinates and the vague promise that Sky was right behind him. He had to be, right? Sky was just as good a flier as he was. All Starscream had to do was lead the way and keep going. The storm would pass, as all things did.

For now, though, it showed no signs of ceasing. Up ahead, as far as Starscream could see, more blistering hail and dark clouds awaited him. He dove upwards, trying to soar high above the clouds like he had a few jours earlier. Up there he could surely avoid the wind. But it was relentless. As strong as he was, Starscream could not for the life of him find a way to keep fighting against the wind while soaring upwards simultaneously. 

Cybertron had storms, yes, but no storms like this. Starscream had learned to fly in every sort of horrible weather that could befall his own planet, but there were certainly no flight school lessons for alien storms on an alien planet! Parts of his plating were dented from the sheer force of the hail raining down on him. More warnings popped up on his HUD, ones that he didn't have the time to spare to clear.

It was so dark and chaotic that he couldn't see where he was going. He wasn't even sure he knew what direction he was going. The only thing that guided him was some vague sense of purpose, tugging Starscream forward. Sky? he tried to comm. The signal seemed to have improved by a little bit.

Starscream dove down again, where the hail had thinned out the slightest bit. The wind was no less strong here, and his thrusters and engine were working overtime just to keep him moving forward and to keep him in the air with what limited energon he had. There was no response from Skyfire. Their commlink remained cold, empty, and dead.

After what seemed like an eternity, the wind ceased a little bit, enough for Starscream to fly forward with a boom!. He broke through the steel gray clouds to find a clear, brilliant night sky. Hail continued to pour down, but in smaller and smaller chunks until it was gone completely. Still he didn't dare to turn around. Storms moved around quite a bit on this planet, and it had been going the same direction as Starscream.

After just another klik of flying, their docked ship came into view. Perfect, and rather convenient, too. Starscream transformed and landed with a thud, ice cracking beneath his heel struts. He turned around, scanning the ground and the sky for Skyfire. Starscream's energon ran cold. Where was he? He glanced around and saw only polar emptiness.

"Sky?" he called out. "Skyfire? Where are you?"

The only thing that answered Starscream was the echo of his own voice.

Chapter Text

Starscream slipped out of recharge, onlining his optics with a groan of discomfort. The strange aches in his body had returned. There were no injuries to be found - his self-repair had taken care of everything cycles ago. Starscream didn't understand, but his frame simply throbbed. He couldn't trace it back to any specific place - everything from his heel struts to his servos to his helm felt sore and unsteady.

He stumbled to shaky pedes, glancing around. His chronometer informed him that the night had passed without incident and a quick peek through one of the shattered windows revealed a bright Earth sunrise. Starscream refuelled, watched the sunset, and then sat in silence for a long while. He had half a mind to clear out his subspace, if he was going to live here permanently (or at least until the energon ran out), but found nothing inside. He had nothing to his name, then. Even the energon stacked around him in haphazard piles were not technically his.

Starscream bolted upright in alarm as he realized something. His things! They were still on the Nemesis. He wasn't one for sentimental value, and he would certainly survive without his material things, but... The last piece of Skyfire was on that ship. The last pieces of his trine were on that ship. The last parts of before were on that ship. It was stupid. It was just a datapad with some pictures logged onto it, hidden in a compartment he had installed beneath the metal tiles of the ship. So too were his own things. There weren't many of them - just things Starscream found interesting from the many missions he had been on to uncountable planets and on occasion, back to Cybertron.

Those were the only things that were still his. Those were the only things he had made sure that Megatron could never take from him. Or, had he already? Starscream had no idea what they had done to his room - the Nemesis had dozens of empty rooms on account of the thinning of Decepticon ranks over the vorns and he had never bothered to check in on them. He wasn't sure if anyone bothered.

It made him a little sorrowful now, remembering the seekers that he had flown alongside, had considered his comrades, and thinking of their rooms as empty, dust-covered shells. Had he stopped to remember them? Had he stopped to mourn them? Or had they just become the Decepticon cause's war machines somewhere down the line instead of Starscream's own people and his own soldiers?

If Starscream had done something earlier... His fellow seekers would have listened to him. Not only had he been Winglord, and therefore the last relic of a time when there had only been Vos and no war, but he was also their Commander, and vorns of war had drilled obedience into them. If Starscream had defected, they would have followed. When there had still been a seeker armada, as opposed to a Vehicon one, they had been the only fliers in the entire Decepticon army. Even Megatron and Soundwave had still possessed ground-based alt forms, having not yet scanned their current forms.

He could have done something. He could have saved them. But Starscream hadn't and now he just had to live with that. And he had paid for it, in more ways than one. As their rooms sat still and empty, caked in dust, perhaps still frozen in time from before a battle from which they would never return, his room sat the same way. But Starscream was still online, and the Decepticons had taken enough from him already. He would not allow them to take his possessions, too.

So it was settled. Starscream would be going back to the Nemesis - oh, frag him! He knew how stupid that was. If he was caught, he would not make it back alive. He would be lucky to offline in one piece. There were likely kill-on-sight orders for him, and if it came to it with Megatron, Starscream would not win. But more than anything else, he hated the fact that even now, Megatron had power over him.

He had not seen the mech in cycles, but his ever-hovering control remained. Starscream was still afraid of him and that meant he ran and hid like prey. He would not run anymore. He would go take what was his - the only things in the world that were his.

It was stupid and it was impulsive and Starscream would probably get himself offlined at the servos of his former faction. But better that than keep living in fear, right? Better to do something and prove that Megatron had no power over him. Not anymore.

. . .

It didn't take long for Starscream to get the Harbinger's system back online. Before he did, he disabled its comms and any signals it might be sending off. He didn't want to draw Decepticons into his one safe place. Or Autobots, for that matter. With a bit of tinkering and a bit of inputting passwords that he thankfully still remembered, he pulled up a map of Earth and any active Decepticon signals transmitting. The Nemesis was currently transmitting on a heavily encrypted channel - Soundwave's work? Starscream didn't know nor care.

The Nemesis was not far from his current location - three breems or less of flight on a full tank. Decision made, he climbed out of the energon chamber and out the main "entrance," which was in actuality the place where the Harbinger had split in half.

Starscream transformed and took flight - it was good to be back in the sky again. In his alt form, he could more or less ignore the strange sharp aches in him. Starscream followed the coordinates logged into his HUD and before long, the large, sickening shape of the Nemesis came into view. Starscream veered right, putting a good amount of distance between the ship and himself. From this distance, he could merely be a Vehicon on patrol, or even a human plane.

He could not get over how fragging stupid he was being. He was probably scrap but - frag it, he had to do this! He had to prove some sort of point to... to who? Oh, what did it matter? Starscream hovered, waiting for the next patrol of Vehicons. When they crossed his line of sight, he tailed them at a slight distance, following them through the hangar and into the ship.

His spark was pounding. The last time he had been here, Starscream had had to deal with the mess of an amnesia-ridden Prime (what was up with that? did he get his memories back?) and he had forgotten his energon and his own fragging soldiers had almost killed him! Hopefully this time would go a little smoother... Starscream ducked behind a pillar, his silver plating stark against the darkness of the ship.

He watched the Vehicons go. The rest of the hangar was completely silent and empty. The docking door closed behind Starscream. He felt a sinking feeling in his chassis. But he had made it this far. Surely Starscream could go a little further. He crept cautiously down the hallway, noting with a measure of relief that it was empty. Starscream just had to keep following this hallway, make one turn, and then he would be alright. Then the datapad that contained the last pieces of the only mechs he had ever loved would be in his servos and he could get the frag off this ship and back to where it was warm and dark and safe.

That did nothing to quiet the anxious beat of his spark. Starscream transformed his servos into blasters, glancing around cautiously. Primus forbid he run into anyone. One mech sounding the alarm would bring the whole ship running. He turned the corner and heard heavy pedesteps and then a large, bulky shadow fell over his frame.

Starscream nearly screamed in shock and fear. He pointed his blasters up instinctively - oh, if it was Megatron than he was - Starscream looked up. Oh fragging frag it. It was Bulkhead - Wait, what the pit was an Autobot doing on the Decepticon warship? What was up with them sneaking aboard the ship every few cycles anyway? Then again, what the frag was he - a deserter - doing on the Nemesis either?

Bulkhead had his blasters up to, looking just as surprised to see Starscream as Starscream was to see him. "Starscream?!"

"Why is it that every time I return to my old stomping grounds, I find an Autobot roaming the halls," Starscream exclaimed in faux-exasperation. Truly, he was terrified, but somehow, he kept up the facade. "First good old Amnesiac Prime and now you? Oh, what's next?!"

"Don't tell me you came crawling back to Megatron," Bulkhead said, optics narrowing in suspicion.

"Megatron?! Hardly! Don't kid yourself, Autobot, I belong to no one! Now, out of my way, I have business to attend to."

The Autobot blocked his path, his blasters transforming back into his servos. "'Scream, you gotta show me the way off this boat," he said, a hint of actual worry slipping into his voice.

Starscream hesitated. For all intents and purposes, his cover was already absolutely blown. One commlink ping and the rest of those fraggers would groundbridge here in an instant! And a fight would draw even more attention to them and to himself. So Starscream may as well take advantage of the situation. His processor worked quickly. The Autobot was strong, stronger than he was. If Starscream stuck around him, he would be more protected, and if they were caught, he could spin some scrap and pin the blame on Bulkhead. It wasn't like the wrecker was bright enough to come up with a cover story. And he had a considerable amount of leverage, knowing this ship inside and out.

"I'll consider it," Starscream drawled. "If you'll do me one little favor. As I recall, last time we bartered. Help an old friend out again?"

He could tell that Bulkhead didn't like the idea. What choice did he have, though? This was pretty much the deepest into enemy territory an Autobot could get. And also the deepest into enemy territory he could get. A worrying thought indeed.

"Alright, fine. But any funny business and -"

Starscream rolled his optics. "The Decepticons are as much your enemy as they are mine," he said. He felt the other mech's optics dart to his chassis - his smooth, unmarred chassis. Minus the admittedly poor solder job, but that was well past the point.

He offered no further explanation, but instead turned the corner and continued down the hallway as cautiously and quietly as he could. Bulkhead was clearly not one for stealth - each of his pedesteps came down, dare Starscream say, rather thunderously. Still, in a fight, Starscream stood a far better chance letting the Autobot deal with whoever it was while he found an appropriate exit and flew the pit away from this cursed ship.

The walk to his room was tense and silence-filled, not just between them, but due to the impending threat of discover. Starscream's spark was going insane in his chest in a fashion that could not have been healthy. He felt a little sick even being here. He had been thrown against the dark walls of this ship more than once, hard enough to make the glass of his cockpit shatter and dig into the tiny metallic seams of his armor. Hard enough to snap cables, to crack plating, to make tears of coolant spring into his eyes. Sometimes Megatron would keep him pinned there for a moment, just because he could, squeezing the delicate cables of his neck till his vocalizer spit absolutely nothing but static.

Starscream finally - finally! - stopped by the door leading to his room. The lock on it had been removed. He in-vented shakily. "What are you doing?" Bulkhead demanded, stopping behind him.

He gritted his dentae, trying to ignore the pounding of his spark. "Getting my scrap."

The door swung open easily, fortunately enough. Everything that could go wrong for him had a tendency to go wrong. Starscream crept inside, a little scared of what he would find. To both his comfort and his shock, his room was exactly the same as he had left it, albeit covered in a layer of dust. It hadn't even been that long ago, but it felt like forever since he had been here, and he felt like a completely different mech than before.

His berth was exactly the same as he had left it, blankets thrown haphazardly in whatever formation they landed in when he onlined every morning. Starscream's desk was a complete mess, sprawled with half-finished reports and whatever data he was trying to analyze. There was an empty cube of energon that he had never gotten rid of sitting in one corner. A small shelf by his berth held his collection of datapads, most of them having to do with procedure and battle strategy and whatever else could bore a mech half to sleep. "Give me five kliks," he said to Bulkhead, who looked like he was about to object. "Five kliks and then I'll get you off this wretched ship! Primus!"

Absolutely nothing had been touched. He dug his claws into the seams of one of the tiles and found his datapad, in perfect condition. He deposited it into his subspace with a sigh of glorious relief. His photos were safe. It was stupidly sentimental and weak. Starscream knew that. But he - He wasn't sure why he had kept pictures of terminated mechs for this long. They were offline and he was not and that should have been all there was to it.

Starscream scooped up the small metallic box he kept the rest of his things in and subspaced it as well. It was rather depressing. The only things that were his - really, truly his - were in a box big enough to fit in one servo. Starscream moved the tile carefully back into place and pressed down on it. No one would suspect a thing.

He retreated outwards, closing the door carefully behind him. There! Done in less than five kliks. Starscream thought for a moment. The exits on the ship were closely guarded. The only place that seemed fairly empty was the hangar bay. As one patrol returned, another would leave in less than a breem, giving them a fair amount of time where it was empty. "Follow me," he hissed.

The words had barely left his mouth when he heard pedesteps coming their way. He and Bulkhead cursed nearly simultaneously. Starscream glanced around wildly. His room was their safest bet but they had to get out of here too, and fast. His gaze landed on the ceiling. There were vents there that ran through the entire ship. If they followed them through to the bay, they would be safe and unseen.

Starscream gritted his dentae as the pedesteps grew louder and louder. "Give me a boost," he said. "The vents." He offered no further explanation.

"Maybe you can fit up there, Screamer, but I can't!"

"What do you suggest instead?! They're bigger than you think. We'll be fine."

Bulkhead didn't look convinced in the slightest, but there were Decepticons coming their way, and fast. A fight would send the entire ship running and blow their cover. He bent down, letting Starscream climb up onto his shoulders. He dug his sharp, thin claws into the seams of the ceiling tiles and tore one out surprisingly easily. Who ran the maintenance on this ship? He passed it down to Bulkhead, unwilling to let it clatter onto the ground. Starscream pulled himself up into the vent, surprised at how spacious it was.

Bulkhead followed him, with considerable difficulty. Starscream did his best to pull the heavier mech up. He screwed the tile back into place the best he could. He peaked out through the vent and his spark nearly stopped - Vehicons, right there. They had hidden just in time. Starscream said nothing more, crawling forward on his servos and knees. Before long, the two of them reached a crossroads.

Starscream tried desperately to remember - which way was to the hangar bay and which one was to the command center? But his processor provided nothing but panic and racing thoughts. He cursed quietly and went left. 50/50 chance, right?

After a few more kliks of silent crawling, Starscream stopped up short. He peeked through the holes in the vents - they should be at the hanger by now, right? His spark nearly stopped in its chamber at what he saw. Dark gray plating. Red optics. Twisting, sharp shoulder struts. Megatron.

No. No, no, no. Starscream was here again - at his mercy - he was back here - to the one place he would never go back to - Why?

Bulkhead, too, glanced down and stopped up short. "Frag!" he swore. "You brought me here on purpose, didn't you?"

Starscream wanted to groan, and he would have, if not for the fact that his vents seemed to be bringing in significantly less air. "D-don't be stupid," he growled. "Wrong turn, is all. Keep it down."

They were in the command center. Starscream recognized the large glass windows and datapads. Not only was Megatron there, but so were at least have a dozen Vehicons. Bulkhead shifted around in the vent, apparently turning back to go the other way. But the other mech underestimated the bulkiness of his own frame compared to the small, tight area of the vent. The scrape of metal against metal rang out, cutting through the otherwise quiet room.

The Vehicons stopped their typing. Megatron, who was standing a few feet away, snapped his helm in their direction. Starscream inadvertently let out a soft, low whimper of fear. His vents grew slow and shallow. This was the end for him. This was it. He was going to - he was going to - He -

He would see Skyfire again and his trine again.

The world seemed to whirl in slow motion as Megatron's claws tore through the thin metal beneath them, ripping a hole through the vents. There was nowhere to run and certainly nowhere to hide. He couldn't do this. He couldn't, he couldn't, he couldn't. He was going to be torn apart plate by plate, bolt by bolt, screw by screw, right here, right now. It was all going to end and he was going to feel every second of it.

Starscream's arms moved without him noticing. His digits flicked without him noticing. One of his missiles flew off his arm. Megatron had the foresight to sidestep neatly, leaving the missile to slam into the ground, going off with an explosion that shook the entire room. The loud sound rang in Starscream's audials, almost snapping him out of his panicked daze. Almost, but not quite.

He lept out of the vents, optics landing on one of the windows. The glass was not thick. "Follow me," he shouted to Bulkhead, hoping that the other mech could hear him. Starscream should have left him there at the mercy of the Decepticons while he escaped. He should have. But he didn't. He had no idea why.

Starscream ran blindly through the clouds of smoke. He was going to make it - he just had to - just had to slam against the window a few times till the glass broken and then he would be free. Something wrenched him back. A massive servo against his wingtip, crushing and denting delicate metal.

He bit back a scream, whirling around and yanking his wing out of the warlord's grasp. Megatron smirked as Starscream's energon ran cold. "Came home now, did we?"

Starscream didn't bother with responding, aiming another shot with his second missile. But before he knew it, he was staring back down the barrel of the fusion cannon. "Give me one reason I shouldn't terminate you now, Starscream. And did you really think I wouldn't find you again? That every road wouldn't lead back to... me?" His tone was light, almost conversational.

He had to run. He had to turn around and run. Or he had to stand his ground and fight. But Starscream was frozen. Completely and utterly frozen. The crack of the glass of his cockpit. A sharp snap as his limbs bent and broke. The screech of metal as his wings were torn off his back, cables disconnecting. The quiet drip-drip-drip of his own energon forming a puddle under him. Pain upon pain upon pain, white hot agony and needle sharp aches. A thousand tons of earth over him. 

Starscream trembled. His wings drooped low and he could barely find the courage in him to lift his optics and stare his master in the optic. Right back into Megatron's servos, right back at his side, where he belonged, because that was all he ever would be, all he deserved to be. Starscream had to do something, had to say something, had to -

"Nothing to say?" Megatron crooned, fusion cannon charging up. "That's what I thought."

Starscream offlined his optics, waiting for the blast to come. A loud bang! forced him to online his optics again. Bulkhead's wrecking ball was slamming into Megatron's chassis, knocking him momentarily off balance. Starscream flicked his fingers, sending his second missile flying, right into Megatron.

The force of the impact shoved him back a few paces. "The window," he managed to choke out through the feverish pounding of his spark. "Crack it open."

"You might be able to fly but -"

"Trust me! Just this once!" Oh Primus, if the Autobot didn't shut up and listen, they were both scrap.

The blaster fire of the Vehicons drew Starscream's attention. He fired back blindly but the smoke from two missiles made it hard to make out anything more than two feet in front of him. Bulkhead slammed himself up against the glass, shattering it immediately. The second time, the glass gave, shards flying everywhere. "Grab my wings," he hissed. Starscream transformed as fast as he could, hovering in jet mode.

Bulkhead grabbed onto his wings, thankfully without protest. Starscream fired up his engines and took flight. Almost immediately, he started to fall, weighed down by the Autobot clinging on as hard as he could. He struggled to stay in the air, thrusters spitting smoke and fire. He couldn't stop the fall. He had to trust it. He couldn't stop the fall, but he could make the landing soft.

Starscream and Bulkhead were losing air fast, but that meant they, too, were further and further from the Nemesis, which was surely returning fire. He couldn't be bothered to turn around and check. The ground whirled closer and closer.

The Autobot had the sense to let go, transforming into vehicle mode in midair. He landed with a thud!, rolling over and over a few times before thankfully landing right side up. Starscream was slamming toward the ground with far too much momentum for him to counteract and far too quickly to transform back. His nose cone slammed into the hard ground, pain shooting through him instantly.

Bulkhead would have to find his own way back to base. Comm his friends or something. Starscream had to leave, and fast. He didn't transform back into robot form, but he ignited his thrusters until he was hovering in the air again, before powering up his engines again. He flew up high into the air and then forward as fast as he could.

There were probably Vehicons tailing him, but he could play the waiting game. Whatever it took for Starscream to keep himself alive.

He flew as fast as his systems would allow, breaking the sound barrier with a boom!. Blaster fire trailed after him. He rolled and turned, avoiding it smoothly. There was no one better in the air than he was, after all.

Starscream flew in a completely innocuous direction for several breems, changing direction as much as he could. The Harbinger was getting further away, but he had to throw the Vehicons off. He swooped down low once he was sure he wasn't being followed, pulled the coordinates back up, and sped toward the downed ship.

He left only the faintest trail of smoke behind in the sky.

Chapter Text

The Harbinger's systems had gone back offline while Starscream had been away. With a some improvised tools, poor soldering, and the sacrifice of a few energon cubes, the screens of the datapads popped back online. Starscream stepped back, satisfied with his work. He still remembered some basic engineering from the Academy, and during the worst parts of the war, when engineers had been in short supply, he had had to learn how to repair machines and ships on his own - his methods were crude and unsophisticated, but they worked.

He entertained himself briefly by going through the ship's logs. Whoever had commandeered the vessel had left the appropriate data logs - at least someone in the Decepticon ranks had been competent, though they were almost certainly scrap now. There was nothing more to it than status reports on the ship and how much closer they had gotten to Earth. Obviously, the logs ended without any obvious conclusion, the ship having literally split in half.

Starscream was sore and tired all over. Thankfully, he had not been injured again, although his little excursion onto the Nemesis had been far from pleasant. He shivered, knowing that he had almost thrown himself right back into Megatron's claws, knowing that he had almost condemned himself to his own death. Starscream opened up his subspace and onlined the datapad. He was pleased to see that not only was the outside flawless, but the inside was, as well. He nearly clicked open the file that held - well, that held whatever was left of his spark. But Starscream didn't. He wasn't sure he was ready.

Instead, he twisted off the lid of his little box and busied himself examining each of his - Oh, what even were these things? Mostly shiny bits of metal and rock that he had found pretty and subspaced. He felt insanely stupid every time he did so, but back then he had been space-bridging to any planet they suspected might have even a hint of Autobot on them. May as well take some souvenirs. Starscream was bored, which was a stupid thing to say considering he had nearly died less than a breem ago, but he was. He sorted them into piles based on color and then based on shape and then based on size and then based on luster.

Starscream heard a sharp beep! from the datapad all of a sudden. He sprung to his pedes, careful not to trample any of his rocks, and turned back to the screen. It was displaying a hologram of Earth, with four different sets of coordinates. Four Decepticons ground-bridging to four different locations at once... Could this be that database Megatron had never shut up about? Starscream was tempted to ignore it entirely but whatever the relics were, they were clearly worth Decepticon attention. If he bridged there first, got in and out quickly, then the relic would be in his servos.

As far as he knew, the Autobots and the Decepticons were both still his enemies. Add Airachnid (wherever she was) and MECH (wherever they were) to the list and pretty much everyone wanted to terminate him. With a relic, though, Starscream could gain something of an upper servo. If need be, he could bargain with it too and get whatever he wanted from either side. Not that he wanted to do any of this. He wanted to stay out of this war forever and never seen another Cybertronian again. But for now, he was helpless and rapidly running out of energon, and he needed whatever advantage he could get on his side.

Plus, that was one less weapon out of anyone's servos, meaning the war would end faster. Starscream wasn't sure what that would mean and as far as he was concerned, the war would never end, but if it did, at least there might be somewhere - a united Cybertron? Or was that just a berth-time story for sparklings? - he could someday go home to. The thought made him strangely giddy. Had the Nemesis ever been home? Starscream recalled the sorry, dusty state of his own rom and how, disregarding the items hidden under the tiles, it might have been that no mech lived there at all. Did he have a home?

Vos had been home. It was buried under a thousand tons of rubble. Skyfire had made the Academy home. Skyfire was long dead. The Academy was long gone. Even Cybertron was long gone.

Starscream gritted his dentae in determination. He was going to do this. It would keep him alive in the long run, even if it risked his life in the short term. He had to move fast, if he wanted to get there before any other mech. Starscream chose a coordinate at random and with a sinking feeling in his fuel tank, realized that it was in the arctic, on the planet's north pole. Oh, frag. He was royally fragged. He didn't want to go back to the place where Skyfire had died, to the last place he'd seen the only mech who would ever love him.

But Starscream had to. The arctic coordinate was the only one that hadn't yet been bridged to, giving him a slight advantage. Although who knew. The Harbinger's system were, of course, a little fried from sitting here, rusting, for vorns and vorns. Starscream pulled out the groundbridge generator he had found and hooked up to an engine - dangerous, yes, but it worked. He typed in the appropriate coordinates and a swirling greenish-purple vortex promptly opened itself up.

Starscream hesitated for a moment before stepping inside.

. . .

The arctic was, of course, cold. Starscream flinched a little. He had gotten used to the hot, arid terrain that he had been in the past several cycles. And not only that but something in his frame still remembered it was being the same sort of biting cold, the sort that slipped through the seams down to one's protoform, the same sort that he had stepped into with Skyfire so, so long ago. Are you somewhere here, Sky? Is your ghost under the ice now, too?

That was silly. Ghosts weren't real. Skyfire was one with the Allspark and someday Starscream would join him, but for now, they were decidedly separate and it was probably better that way. Not that he had ever been a particularly religious mech. Who was he kidding, anyway? If Primus and Unicron were real - and they probably were - then Starscream was going to the pit, whereas he could not think of a single mech more deserving of the Allspark than Sky.

Starscream transformed into jet mode and took flight, blocking out the memories that threatened to slip into his processor. If it isn't a scorching desert, it's a frozen wasteland, he thought ruefully as he flew through a narrow valley of ice. Although Starscream could not be talking. His home planet was effectively the largest ball of rusted scrap in the universe, and it was no thanks to the species that lived there.

With all the thoughts of what had come before, Starscream had not bothered to watch his back. He heard them before he saw them - the tell-tale swoop of Vehicon engines. Starscream saw two Vehicons overtake him, turn sharply in the air, and begin to fire. He felt a stab of indignation. Starscream had taught them that maneuver himself!

He did feel that it was rather ironic that the only fliers he had felt even a scrap of connection to after the termination of his trinemates were now trying to terminate him. He didn't have time for that, though. Starscream twisted around, doing several barrel loops, trying to throw them off. He twisted and turned through the field of spiked ice, nearly banging his wingtip on one of them. He was a little out of practice.

The Vehicons trailed behind him and - was that a third plane? It was a blue jet, significantly larger than the Vehicons, leading their flight formation. Well, at least they remembered how to fly in groups of three?

Starscream dodged and weaved, but he could barely stay ahead of them. Apparently he had trained his own soldiers too well. Starscream veered right, avoiding blaster fire, which in turn slammed into the ice wall next to him. Chunks of ice began to fall rapidly and Starscream threw himself at nearly a 90 degree angle to avoid being tossed out of the air. He couldn't turn around to return fire, let alone hesitate for a moment.

He threw himself forward, thrusters running into overheat as he tried to outpace the trio that was hot on his tail. A blast passed him by about a feet and Starscream felt a burst of triumph before he realized that it was a trap. The blast collided with a chunk of jutting ice in front of him and it cracked and fell just as Starscream passed under it. He had neither the time nor the thrust power to change directions or soar upwards.

What felt like a thousand tons of pure ice slammed into him, denting delicate metal. Starscream bit back a scream, transforming out of his alt mode. He shoved the ice off of himself and attempted to scramble to his pedes - only for a firm, large pede on his chassis to slam him back down. His vision swam a little and for a moment he thought that was Megatron's silhouette - that he was here, to finish the job, to -

That was silly. Starscream would've recognized Megatron's alt form from a mile away.

Starscream looked up to find... "Skyquake?!"

The other mech scoffed. "You mistake me for my brother, who is one with the Allspark, as you are no doubt aware, former Commander Starscream."

Starscream whimpered, low and nervous, his wings falling. He was responsible for Skyquake's death, of course, and of course he had had no choice, but that didn't matter now. Oh, he was scrap! Why had he ever left the Harbinger?

"If it were up to me, I would end this here and now. But it is my duty as first lieutenant to Megatron to render all traitors to my lord and master for... due punishment," the other mech - Dreadwing, if memory served - went on. Starscream looked down, shocked to see stasis cuffs now locked around thin silver wrists. His spark went wild in its chamber. No. No. No.

It would be better to die here. It would be so much better to die here. Not only was he a deserter now, but a traitor too. Megatron would tear him apart, plate by plate, have Knockout put him back together, and do it again. Or something worse than that. Something worse than Starscream could even think of.

Just the thought of that made him dizzy with fear. Was the ice supposed to swim in his vision like that? Was coolant supposed to be pooling in the corners of his optics? Were his pedes supposed to be trembling?

A few kilks later, Starscream and the Decepticons were trudging, once more, through the icy tundra. He was shaky on his pedes still but there was no time for that. He tried to calm himself down but his vents only seemed to be getting shallower. What was up with him? Starscream tried to reassure himself. The relic still needed to be found and who knew where it might be? He would have ample time to steal it for himself or (the increasingly more attractive option) transform and get the hell out of here.

Or... Was Starscream to die here too? Like Skyfire? It was sickeningly poetic.

"Commander Dreadwing, this must be a very important mission if Megatron had dispatched his... second-in-command," Starscream said. The one thing he knew how to do was keep talking. Not that that had ever kept him safe, but it had given him chances to slip away on more than one occasion. Not that he could do that now. It was more instinct than thought.

"That is none of your concern," Dreadwing said, scrutinizing the tracking device in his servo and taking several heavy steps forward.

"Perhaps I could help. The relics, is it?" he went on. He immediately felt like bashing his helm in. Oh, who cared? If there was a line to be crossed, Starscream had sprinted over it more than a few cycles ago.

One of the Vehicons behind him jabbed him sharply in the back with a blaster. He yelped, rolling his optics. It was a big show of exasperation, but Starscream was having trouble even keeping that facade up. What he really wanted to do was curl into a ball and sob until his optics could produce no more coolant.

After several more breems of anxious walking, in which Starscream's processor conjured up various horrific ends that he could meet at Megatron's servos, Dreadwing announce, "We are at the coordinates."

He stopped up short. A huge chunk of the ice had been excavated and the area was marked with red human flags. "The relic," he hissed. "It has been taken. Search the area!"

The Vehicons divided themselves up and searched. Starscream watched with interest. He just needed to bang these stasis cuffs off and then he could fly away.

"Commander Dreadwing, we have discovered vehicle tracks," one of them said.

"The Autobots," he growled, optics darkening. Starscream felt another cold stab of panic slice through him. As far as he knew, the Autobots hated him just as much as the Decepticons did. Them being here... What were the chances of his continued survival now? Zero? That sounded about right.

"Perhaps," Starscream said, "though I've never known them to plant flags at the sight of their victories." Mistake. Starscream knew that as soon as the words had left his mouth.

Dreadwing turned from the Vehicon to Starscream, optics blasing. He grabbed him by the throat, putting pressure on the delicate cables in his neck. He threw him up against the ice hard enough to crack it. Starscream instinctively struggled, but it was no use. The other flier was significantly larger and significantly stronger than he was. "Stop trying me, traitor," Dreadwing snarled. "I will leave your lifeless husk in this frozen waste."

The rumbling of engines and tires over cold ice caught both their attentions. Dreadwing's head snapped around and Starscream strained to see around his large frame. A truck, coming toward them fast. It didn't take a genius to know who it was. Prime. Starscream's spark sank. He was completely, totally, and utterly scrap. Prime, perhaps, would be more inclined to give him a quick end, rather than draw it out, as Megatron clearly intended to.

Dreadwing tossed Starscream to the ground like a ragdoll. He landed hard on delicate wings, letting out a low groan of pain. "You two, guard the prisoner," Dreadwing said, taking slow, measured steps in the Prime's direction, who transformed as the other mech neared.

"Optimus Prime, I will request only once that you surrender the relic."

"I was going to request the same of you, Dreadwing," Prime said in that irritatingly calm voice of his.

"Then I would say we are on equal footing, were it not that there were five of us and only one of you," Dreadwing replied smoothly.

Starscream stumbled to his pedes, watching as the two mechs stared each other down. They had to be about evenly matched. The ensuing fight would allow him to slip away. It had to. Otherwise... Starscream's spark pounded and ached so fast he was sure it would burst right out of its chamber. His vents weren't bringing in enough air all of a sudden. His mind was foggy and unclear, processor racing.

He wanted to - He didn't know what he wanted.

Dreadwing opened fire with his cannon just as the Vehicons did with their blasters. Prime broke into a run, dodging every blast and rapidly returning fire. Prime ducked and rolled, aiming at Dreadwing - and hitting him. The Decepticon let out a growl, stumbling back to his pedes, responding with a trio more of blasts. Prime sailed over them smoothly. He gave a running jump, unsheathing his blade in midair. Dreadwing caught it with his own blade.

Starscream watched as the two mechs engaged blows, almost perfectly matched. This was the perfect opportunity. He could take two Vehicons, and with how focused on the fight they were, he might not even have to. But Starscream couldn't get his pedes to move at all. His spark was pounding too much and the world was spinning and something was ringing in his audials and - 

He was vaguely aware of the sounds of battle somewhere in front of him, and then a blast that hit something that sounded like ice. Ice cracked. Ice fell. 

A quick jab to the back from the Vehicons snapped him back to reality. He followed them down a small hill of downed ice. Starscream wanted to say something but apparently his vocalizer, too, had betrayed him. A heavy fog hung over the valley. Starscream's optics couldn't make out anything inside. "Commander Dreadwing?" one of the Vehicons called out.

No one answered.

Out of the clearing fog strode Optimus Prime. The Vehicons opened fire immediately and Prime's servos transformed back into blasters. Starscream let out a startled yelp, grasping one of the Vehicons tightly and making them take the hit for him. Prime made short work of the other one. The world was still something of a blur. His audials seemed to be registering every sound a few moments too late.

The only thing he was aware of was the pounding of his own spark and the sheer fear that was radiating through every part of him. He couldn't get vent properly and his spark was pounding and pounding. Starscream was going to die, here and now. He just prayed to Primus it wouldn't hurt, that it would be quick, unlike the death he knew he deserved. Once upon a time Starscream would have faced death proudly. Now he just wanted it to be over as fast as it could be.

Starscream heard the sound of a blaster charging up and soon enough he was staring down the barrel of another gun. Like Megatron. It didn't matter, did it, Autobot or Decepticon? He was going to die anyway. He must have stumbled and fallen to his pedes at some point, though he was hardly aware of anything that was happening. Starscream offlined his optics, flinching backwards. 

His wings dropped as low as they would go. A sound that was somewhere between a whimper and a sob escaped his vocalizer against his will. He heard the sound of blasters transforming back into servos - or at least he hoped it was that. He wasn't sure. It was like Starscream was underwater.

"Starscream," Prime said. "Can you online your optics, please?"

Starscream whimpered again. He didn't want to. He was - He was scared. He just wanted - Who did he want? Anyone who cared about him was long dead. Starscream took the risk - he wasn't sure why, he really wasn't - and opened his optics. Prime was crouched next to him so that they were optic-level, blasters transformed back into servos.

His vents were still shallow and shuddering. He felt dizzy, like the entire world was spinning. Starscream... He didn't know how he felt, or, to some degree, even what was going on around him. He wanted to say something - anything! - but his vocalizer didn't work. Nothing did.

"Match your vents to mine," Prime said. His voice was soft.

He grew aware of the other mech's steady, even vents. Starscream held his in-vent in for longer and ex-vented for longer. It was hard, trying to ignore the anxiety in his chassis and the pounding of his spark. But he tried because, well, what else was there to do? It might have been kliks, it might have been breems, it might have been even longer, but eventually, his vents returned to normal, though his spark was still beating too fast.

His wrists were still cuffed. He gave them a half-sparked tug, unsurprised when the metal didn't give. "The relic," he mumbled, vocalizer finally deciding to listen to him. "It's, it's that way." Starscream gestured vaguely to the direction that Dreadwing had been heading, that the tracker had been pointing toward.

He didn't care anymore. He just had to get out of here alive. The Autobots had spared his life more than once. Prime was sparing his life now. Better theirs than the Decepticons. Or did it even matter? Not now, not to Starscream.

He had to get out, he had to escape. He had to get out of here. He had to -

"I don't want it," he added, voice frantic. "I - I - I - please. Just take it and go."

Prime continued to regard him with that disgustingly worried look. Starscream didn't need his pity or his kindness. He didn't need anything. Prime looked conflicted for a moment, but it quickly passed. He retrieved something out of his subspace and Starscream instinctively flinched back. It was a key, to stasis cuffs. Part of him figured that Autobots and Decepticons must still use the same model of them; most of him was too panicked too care.

The cuffs must have fallen away at some point. He didn't notice that, only that the weight from his wrists was gone. He wasn't noticing all too much at the moment. "Do you need a groundbridge back?"

Starscream swallowed. He had - the groundbridge generator was in his subspace. But he seemed incapable of reaching it for the time period, or he had forgotten how to, or he was simply too frozen to do anything. "Yes," he said. "The - the Harbinger."

Now they knew where he was. The one place where he was safe - his energon - his things - they would - he would - No! He was safe there and he would keep being safe there and he wouldn't let anyone take that from him.

Prime commed back to base, or at least Starscream was pretty sure he did. His optics and audials continued to show him what was happening but his processor felt slow and foggy, unable to process or register anything at all. A greenish-purple portal opened in front of him. Starscream's frame finally obeyed his commands.

He gave Prime one last, skittish glance. He wanted to say something - had to say something - but no words could leave him. His processor was curiously blank. Starscream transformed and flew into the portal as fast as he could, thrusters spitting fire.

Through the green tunnel he went. The swirling of it made him even dizzier. 

Starscream landed in a heap - the groundbridge had ended at some point and given way to the Harbinger but he hadn't even noticed. It had to have happened, but he had no recollection of it. He slumped backwards. Starscream was definitely in the Harbinger. They had taken him there and spared his life. But the Autobots knew where he was now and -

There would be time to worry later.

For now, he was warm, dry, alone, and uninjured.

But most of all, Starscream was safe.

Chapter Text

It took far too long for Starscream to stop shaking. He had locked himself into the furthest room from the entrance of the Harbinger he could find, curled up in a corner, knees to his chestplate, and tried not to leak too much coolant. It was pathetic and he was pathetic but he had long since stopped caring about such matters. It took far too long for Starscream's spark and vents to return to normal, but by the time they did, he was so completely worn out that he could not find in him the strength to even stumble to his pedes.

He still wasn't sure what had just happened. It was mostly a blur. Relic, Vehicons, Dreadwing, Prime, and then Prime sparing his life. Sparing his life... Not for the first time, if memory served. Starscream didn't understand why. He may not have been a Decepticon any longer, but he was still the one who had terminated Cliffjumper and countless others through the course of the war, and he was also certainly competition for what had to be an immensely powerful relic. If their places had been switched, Starscream would have - Would he? A couple of deca-cycles ago and the answer would have been Yes. Now, he was not so sure.

He almost certainly owed the Autobots now and there was nothing Starscream hated more than a debt that remained unpaid. However, he valued his own life too greatly to risk getting involved in the war again. No more sneaking aboard the Nemesis, no more selling information to the Autobots, and certainly no more wild goose chases looking for relics. But then where did that leave Starscream? Some part of him still craved company, and all of his brethren, on this planet at least, were locked in war. Staying out of the war meant swearing off his own species forever. And besides, what purpose did he have beyond that?

For better or worse, war was the only thing familiar to Starscream and just about the only thing he was good at. He was a half-way decent scientist, of course, but there was no Cybertron or Cybertronian society any longer. There was no social structure that required something other than soldiers. He suspected the same for every other mech currently on Earth, or continuing to fight the war elsewhere. If and when the war ended, what would they do? Cybertron was completely uninhabitable, and it was out of question even if they could get a spacebridge working again - which was unlikely.

Starscream couldn't see any Cybertronian living in blissful harmony or whatever with this planet and its beings. Barring the obvious intellectual and superiority gap, they were simply too big, too destructive, and too prone to large, explosive fights that destroyed everything in the vicinity. They could settle some alien planet, sure, but what was the guarantee that it had energon? And for all he knew, the mechs on Earth were the only Cybertronians left still alive!

In short, his species had no future, and Starscream in particular definitely had no future. It was either continue fighting a war and wait for it to slowly kill them, or finish the war and wait to slowly die. For Starscream, it was sit and rust alone, sit and rust with the Autobots, or sit and rust with the Decepticons. He could truthfully find no silver lining at all to the whole situation. Perhaps if Starscream still believed in a cause - any cause! - or if he had anyone else to care about and live for it would seem less bleak, but he had neither.

Thinking in the long term made him want to purge his fuel tank, and thinking in the short term also made him want to purge his fuel tank. Starscream settled on curling into a ball and staring at the wall, which worked for a few breems, but he soon grew bored. He got to his pedes shakily, and then froze. He had told Prime where he was hiding. There was no way else he would have gotten back - in his panicked state, he could barely hear what the other mech had been saying to him, let alone be able to bridge himself back.

Starscream had basically delivered his safety and his position to the Autobots on a lavish silver platter. He was fragged. He was so, so, so incredibly fragged. Starscream's vents grew short and strained again and he sat - or fell - back down to the cold metal ground with a short, soft whimper. His wings were pressed tightly together, banging up uncomfortably against the wall. He had had solitude and peace and he had just had to blow it all again.

Why? Why did he have to ruin everything for himself? And now they would come and finish the job and it would be over just like that. Starscream buried his helms between his servos, unwilling to face the world, before jolting back up with a start.

His chronometer informed him that several joors had passed already. He hadn't noticed at all. That was plenty of time for Prime to get his cursed relic and bridge to the Harbinger. But there was no activity. Starscream had seen nothing and heard nothing. Could that mean... That the Autobots knew where he was and had chosen to let him have his peace and solitude? Starscream didn't know how he felt about that at all.

He didn't like the idea of anyone knowing where he was, but there seemed to be at least a tentative understanding with the Autobots. He helped them and in turn they helped him. Granted, most of the time it was purely situational and Starscream had to act quick to survive - none of it was intentional and he definitely harbored no like for the faction. But they seemed to have an understanding, if not a truce. Starscream had reason to believe they would spare his life again, despite his paranoia. He would do the same for them if it came to it, though Starscream sincerely hoped he would not end up in another situation where, yet again, a Cybertronian life, his or otherwise, hung in the balance. 

Starscream wandered through the dark halls of the Harbinger - right, night had fallen on Earth. It was quiet and everything had been untouched. No one had been here, that much was certain. Starscream peaked through a large hole in the ceiling, staring up at the moon and stars. He wondered if he should go for a flight, but his tired, aching frame rebelled at the idea. He continued on through the ship, reaching the loose tile board that led to the energon chamber.

He hastily rushed down and nearly fainted with relief when he saw that his energon was completely untouched, still in its neat little packaging. Even his rocks, stupid and sparkling-ish as they were, remained in their sorted piles, exactly as Starscream had left them. Excellent.

Starscream took the ground-bridge generator out of his subspace, gathered up the rocks and shoved the back into the small black box, and cleaned the dust off of them. He put the solder, the generator, the box, and the datapad into a neat pile in one corner, away from where he curled up to recharge. That was the sum of everything he had to his name, which was both comforting (he finally had something that was solidly his own) and depressing (everything he owned could be tucked into one corner). Which was improvement from everything Starscream owned fitting in his servo, he supposed.

He sat back, suddenly feeling very empty and very alone. Starscream had never had no one before. For a while he had had his creators, and he had always had his trine. At the Academy he had had Skyfire, and of course he had had his beautiful, glorious city. Then he had lost that and he had lost Skyfire, but in turn he had gained a purpose and a cause to fight for. And now, Starscream had lost that, too.

He really didn't know what a mech did when there was no point to staying online anymore. Starscream had been through far too much to let go and give up now, but he had a feeling that it had all been for nothing. He had been fighting for an empty cause under the pede of a tyrant, and now, without that cause, he didn't know what else to do.

With nothing better to do, Starscream offlined his optics, curled up into a ball, and attempted to recharge.

. . .

Starscream had a nightmare he didn't remember. All he remembered was waking up with a start, spark pounding, palms slick with coolant, vents shaky. He drew his knees up to his chestplate again and sat there for a very long time, waiting for himself to calm down. He could think of no better way to return to normal than to simply sit and wait. Starscream felt incredibly pathetic, but he had no other options. He was incapacitated when he was like this, and that meant death, nine times out of ten.

It was hard to admit to himself, but he just wanted company. Starscream wanted someone - anyone! - to care. To hold him and stroke his wings (like this trine used to, like Sky used to) and tell him that he was enough and that everything would be alright. Of course, he wasn't and it wouldn't. But to have someone who loved him tell him that... He would have killed for it. There was no one left in this world who cared for him, and that, above all else, was the worst possible thing to him.

Starscream didn't imagine he'd find something like that ever again with anyone. He had the energon of Autobots on his servos, and he had deserted and betrayed the Decepticons. Coward, murderer, and traitor, huh? The trifecta indeed. He didn't fit on either side of the war and he didn't want to, but with no war, there was no place left for him where he belonged, where he had a purpose, where he had a reason, still, to live.

Alright, then. Then... Then... Then he would find one. Starscream would find some other reason to stay alive because he refused to believe that it had all been for nothing. It would be spitting on the graves of his trinemates to do that. They were gone and he was here and he had to make the most of that. Regardless of if it was the will of Primus or pure, dumb luck, Starscream was alive and he very much intended to stay alive. It wasn't even like he needed a purpose to. Spite would be enough.

Starscream got to his pedes, still shaky, to a curiously empty fuel tank. He hadn't even done anything, but all that panic and the anxious hammering of his spark seemed to have done something to burn ludicrous amounts of fuel. Starscream took a cube and climbed onto the slanted roof of the downed ship. He let his pedes and legs swing below onto empty space, sitting on the edge of where a large piece of the roof had collapsed inward.

The valley was dark and quiet come night. Quiet and peaceful. There was nothing but quiet solitude for miles and miles here, nothing but Starscream and the silver flecks that he had been named for. There was a certain beauty to the Earthen night sky that he had come to appreciate. Nothing would ever come close to Vos's skies but he thought that he was alright with flying through this one. He sipped his energon - low-grade that tasted like nothing at all but filled up his fuel tank regardless - and tried not to think too hard about anything in particular.

He enjoyed his peace. He enjoyed his neutrality. Sure, Starscream was still constantly in a suspicious amount of near-death situations and constantly on the edge of starvation, but - But that was all on his own terms. If he offlined himself through sheer stupidity, it would be on his own terms. Freedom was good. Freedom was better than begging at Megatron's pedes, better than cracked cockpits and broken limbs, better than slamming himself into stasis rather than face the horror that was the waking world.

Freedom was good. Freedom was better than the Nemesis.

Freedom was good. It was the only thing that still mattered to Starscream, and he would sooner offline himself than give it up.

. . .

Starscream sat on the roof for a while longer, allowing his frame to finally relax itself. He rather liked Earth's nights, cold and quiet as they were. The starlight turned his plating into a pool of molten silver and the energon in his servos neon blue. There was a certain picturesque beauty to it all, postcard-perfect. It was moments like this in which he thought that perhaps life was living after all, even if he did have no particular reason to keep moving foward

Starscream had once looked out at these same stars on Cybertron. It was a different night sky, with different constellations and stars and planets, but in some ways it was still the same, in the particular way it would make you feel so small. There were unfathomable distances and alien worlds out there that had yet to be reached or crossed, and in the grand scale of things, Starscream was but a pale blue dot suspended in a sunbeam. They all were. Everything seemed insignificant when he looked up at the stars, looked up at a universe that smiled back at him.

Maybe everything would be alright.

Chapter Text

The Harbinger had picked up another signal. Getting the ship's systems online again had been a good idea, clearly. He could track almost everything happening in the war, without every stepping a single pede onto the battlefield. Starscream traced it and frowned. It was a distress signal from what looked like an escape pod. A long-distance one. A Decepticon escape pod. Could it be, that some Decepticon had managed to escape and now, crash land back on Earth?

He tried not to get his hopes up to high. Probably some fragger like Dreadwing, here to swear eternal loyalty to the amazing and all-powerful Megatron. But still, some small part of Starscream hoped that it could be someone he knew. Maybe one of his Seekers had managed to escape - maybe he wasn't the only one left. Above all else, part of him hoped, no matter how stupid it was, that it could be Skywarp or Thundercracker. No one knew for sure if they had offlined - Starscream had felt it in his spark, certainly, but the Autobots had never given them confirmation, nor had they ever recovered any parts or bodies.

It was a far, far off thought. How had they ended up in a Decepticon escape pod anyway? And why not return to the Nemesis, or to any other Decepticon outpost, if they had escaped? It was too much of a stretch and Starscream felt stupid for believing it. He would have felt in in his long-dead trine link if one of them was near. But if there was a chance, however small, that one of his trinemates was alive...?

Another thought occured to Starscream. These pods were designed to travel immense distances, far out of the reach of any enemies. It could have been vorns and vorns since the pod had launched - it could have dated back as far as the beginning of the war. If there was a Seeker in there, or anyone, they could be convinced to join him. Starscream still held sway, still held power, to a Decepticon who's last memory was of before leaving Cybertron.

That was one less mech behind Megatron. A little less danger for himself and perhaps one tiny pedestep in the direction that was ending the war. Starscream really didn't know why he cared about that and he didn't have time to think about it. In the short-term, if there was a Seeker or other soldier in there that needed help - and of course they would, fresh out of stasis on an alien planet - he would provide it. If he was not the only one of his kind left and Starscream let that bot die, he would never forgive himself. Part of him couldn't even bring himself to ignore the signal anyway, even if it was some stupidly loyal nutjob who would stab him in the back immediately.

Oh, when had his spark gotten so soft?! It was much better to stay in the Harbinger, continuing to restore whatever parts of it that he could, and stay safe and hidden. Although, Starscream wasn't really hidden anymore, was he? He had blown his own cover and he would have moved already, had he not had any better place to hide, nor any place with the same resources. He sighed and downloaded the coordinates to the groundbridge generator. This was probably suicide but near-death experiences were his norm at this point. What more did he have to lose, anyway?

Part of Starscream hoped against hope that he would see his trine again. Most of him knew that happy endings were for sparklings.

. . .

Starscream stepped through the groundbridge, one arm raised in front of him, missile pointed. For a moment everything was silent - and then he heard the blaster fire. He ducked just as a purple blast sailed over his head. Vehicons? Here? Starscream rolled, crouching behind a thick tree trunk. He was in a wide forest clearing now and - 

Oh, there it was. A Decepticon escape pod, crashed, leaving a small river of energon behind. From out of the trees and boulder adjacent to him were Insecticons in the sky and Vehicons on the ground, all firing at - something. Decepticons firing on Decepticons? They had to have tracked the coordinates too and come to be a little welcoming party - but -

Starscream's optics caught a flash of movement. A silver and blue mech was darting parallel to the treeline, returning fire rapidly. He searched his processor but the mech's appearance rang no bells in particular. Something in his spark sank. Not TC. Not Warp. Not another Seeker. Not even someone he knew. Starscream's gaze drifted to the strange mech's upper arm, where the insignia would be - Starscream blinked a few times, unsure of what he was seeing.

An Elite Guard insignia. He couldn't remember the last time he had seen one of those - the fall of Iacon, maybe? Vorns and vorns ago, on Cybertron. Here on Earth, the only insignias were Autobot or Decepticon, or, in his case, nothing at all. Any Neutral got rid of an insignia and any Autobot or Decepticon took on a new one. This mech had evidently been in stasis since the fall of Iacon or before, and he was just now being greeted by... well, not exactly a warm welcome.

Starscream couldn't just leave him there and stroll back through the groundbridge, could he? He let out a groan of frustration, cursing his newfound morality, and subspaced his generator. Starscream transformed one servo into a blaster and aimed a few shots at the Vehicons firing on the silver mech.

They fell to the ground instantly, but more filled up the ranks, and the Insecticons in the sky noticed him, shrieking their little hissing calls. Starscream cursed and transformed, taking to the air sharply. He flew upwards as much as he could and then turned, diving back down. His wings sliced through the air, thrusters bursting with flames. He fired on the Insecticons, though his blasts did little against their tough, hard shells.

Starscream flew in tight circles, drawing the attention of the Insecticons by firing on them repeatedly. It did close to nothing, but one blast hit the delicate areas between the seams of their metal shells. He fired again immediately and one of the Insecticons fell to the ground with a thump, conveniently crushing a Vehicon. The silver mech was ducked behind a boulder, returning fire with admittedly poor aim.

He had the rest of the Insecticons hot on his tail now, following terrifyingly closely. Starscream did a smooth, practiced barrel role and turned around to face them. Come on, come on. The Insecticons lined themselves up perfectly after a few moments, and he launched one missile directly at them.

The metal tip collided with the first Insecticon and it instantly exploded. With a loud boom! the Insecticons in the sky collapsed into a red and orange supernova. Starscream dove down and transformed back, landing hard on his pedes. He turned both servos into blasters and ran along the same treeline, firing on every Vehicon he could see. Leave no one alive. No one to report back to Megatron about his continued betrayal.

Starscream should have thought a little harder about his plan, though, because he was rapidly outnumbered. In the air, no one bested him, but it seemed that on the ground, everyone did. He stumbled back, heel struts shaky, as the Vehicons advanced on him, firing. He leapt over the puddle of energon left from the ship. Oh sweet Primus, what had he been thinking? Starscream was going to -

"Get down!" someone shouted - the silver mech, it must have been.

Starscream didn't need to be told twice. He slammed himself to the ground so hard his chassis hurt from the impact. A blaster shot missed his helm by an inch and fell downward. He was about to curse the other mech's poor aim, but then he realized. The blaster shot hit the energon and lit it up immediately. 

Blue flames surged upwards, creating a wall of fire between him and the Vehicons. He exchanged glanced with the silver and blue mech, but there was no time for pleasantries. Starscream took his generator out of his subspace and opened a bridge back to the Harbinger. "Follow me," he shouted.

"You-"

"Unless you want me to leave you for scrap," Starscream snapped, which seemed to do the trick. He didn't bother looking back, but he heard pedesteps following him into the portal. He ran until his pedes hit metal and he was back, once more, in the Harbinger.

The portal snapped shut just as the other mech made it in. Starscream let out a sigh of relief. No doubt the Vehicons would report back to Megatron and no doubt he would come looking. The mere thought of that made his spark pound, so he opted not to think about it at all. He was safe for now and that was what mattered. Starscream turned around to regard the other mech, who looked to be a grounder and also a great deal taller than him. Ugh. Curse his flier frame.

"You're Starscream, right?" the other mech said. "I heard stories about you back on Cybertron. They said you were -"

Starscream didn't even want to hear it. "You're welcome," he said, "for saving your life."

"Oh. Yeah. Right."

He rolled his optics, leaning against the cold metal wall, catching his vents. "What's your designation?" he asked. Better to make small-talk than anything else. As far as the other mech knew, he was still a Decepticon and he was still, therefore, an enemy.

"Smokescreen," he said. "Where are we anyway? One moment I'm getting into that pod and the next I'm hitting the ground - hard!"

"Earth," Starscream said, and then realized that that didn't tell the other mech much. "Small backwater planet far from Cybertron. Rich in energon. The Decepticons are here too, as you just saw with that friendly little housewarming party. The Autobots are here as well, fortunately or unfortunately. The war destroyed Cybertron and now we're stuck here. Figure out the rest."

Smokescreen stared at him. A lot to take in in his first few breems of consciousness in several hundred vorns. "Cybertron is what? I mean, I knew Iacon fell, but... Cybertron too? All of it?"

"You heard what I said."

Smokescreen paused, looking at him again. "Aren't you a Decepticon?"

Starscream groaned internally. "I'm neutral. Use your optics and take a good, long look at my chassis." Which Smokescreen did, for a borderline comedic amount of time.

"You mentioned the - the Autobots? They're here?"

He resisted the urge to ask Smokescreen if his audials were working properly. "Yes. Still led by sunshine and rainbows himself." Seeing the puzzled look on Smokescreen's faceplate, Starscream added, "Prime. Optimus Prime."

Smokescreen's optics went as wide as moons instantly. "Optimus Prime? He's here? On this planet? Oh my Primus, I am the luckiest mech alive! I wish he could have seen me kicking some 'Con aft... Do you know how long I've been waiting to do that?"

"Your aim is frankly terrible. Smart, though, what you did with the energon spill."

Starscream truthfully did not have the energy to say more. Despite his long recharge cycles, every part of him still hurt and ached and throbbed. And now he had a dilemma on his servos. The last thing he needed was Prime's number one fanboy sticking by his side. He couldn't dump him back in the wilderness to be killed by the Decepticons, though, and beyond that, Starscream wasn't sure what options he actually even had. "Do you want to find the Autobots?" he asked. His voice was a little flat and he really could not muster up the usual bite it had.

Smokescreen nodded eagerly. "Of course! I can actually make a difference now. I can actually fight. It's - it's all I've ever wanted to do."

He ex-vented deeply. Leave it to a young mech like Smokescreen to view war through some sort of rosy tinted glass. This war had taken everything there was to take away from Starscream. His trine, his city, his planet - everything. It had taken away Cybertron's past, present, and future. It had reduced them to little more than the dim-witted animals of Earth, fighting for the sake of fighting because that was all they knew anymore.

War wasn't pretty or honorable or even particularly enjoyable. It was dirty, messy work, and it turned you into a monster. What would Starscream back at the Academy have thought, knowing that his future self's servos were dripping with energon when back then he had not even had weapons built into his frame? It destroyed you from the inside out. Which was precisely why Starscream wanted to stay out of it all - though that was close to impossible, he figured. Leave it to the war to find his way back to him.

Starscream said none of this, because he wasn't sure he could bear to say it or that Smokescreen could bear to hear it. "I propose... a deal," he said. "A mutually beneficial deal."

Smokescreen's expression became guarded again. "I know that Decepticons are liars. It's literally in the name!"

"Primus, get your audials checked. I'm not a Decepticon anymore, and do you see any other better option for yourself? Take my help or sit here and rust away merrily."

He looked hesitant, but seemed to consider Starscream's words carefully. "Okay, fine. What's your deal gonna look like?"

"I'll help you stay out of Decepticon grasp for long enough to join the Autobots. In turn, you make sure the Autobots give me what I want - energon, and the promise to be left alone," Starscream said. He glanced at his rapidly dwindling pile of energon cubes. Between his own consumption, the groundbridge generator, and the ship's systems need to run on energon, he was running through it at an alarming rate. Starscream was still not convinced that the Autobots weren't waiting for the right moment to terminate him. He was still alive now, but nothing he had done in the past few cycles changed the amount of Autobot energon on his servos.

"Sure thing, I think I can do that. The Autobots... I'm really going to meet Optimus Prime. Wow."

Starscream nodded. He was very, very tired, and the stress of the past several cycles was wearing on him rapidly. What he really wanted was one day without any sort of action, but he had to keep moving in order to keep himself alive. In the absence of any sort of long-term goal, Starscream could only focus on his short-term goal, which was simply to stay online long enough to live another day. He had half a mind that his long-term goal should be to end the war. He knew it was a horrible thing that needed to end before his species destroyed itself, and with it, any hope for him to one day go home. But that was a slightly ridiculous thought.

What he needed to do now was figure out how to contact the Autobots and tell them to get Prime's little idol out of here. He searched through his HUD for Ratchet's commlink but came up empty handed. It must have closed itself to Starscream at one point or another. He had no idea where the Autobot base could be, and the more he wandered around in search of it, the more likely he would be spotted. Speaking of which...

"What's your alt mode?"

Smokescreen blinked. He transformed quickly into a sleek silver machine of some sort - some kind of horribly out-dated Cybertronian vehicle he hadn't seen in vorns before transforming back in rapid succession. Starscream hadn't needed a demonstration. "Pretty cool, right?"

"That's going to attract Decepticons like a fragging beacon," Starscream remarked. "Find an Earth-based vehicle mode, if you value your life." He sighed again. No way he was letting Smokescreen out of his sight until he was with the Autobots. The fragger would probably crack the moment he was interrogated and give away Starscream's location, to which Megatron would come running and finish the job.

And, of course, Starscream valued his life greatly.

. . .

That was how he found himself crouched up on a ridge overlooking a human road with Smokescreen once he had drank almost three whole cubes of energon. Stasis had clearly done a number on him. "Too dull," Smokescreen said, watching a perfectly acceptable silver car pass by. "Too slow." He regarded a car passing by at a perfectly acceptable speed.

Now that was precisely why Starscream was a jet. Why have wheels when you could break the sound barrier?

They sat there for awhile longer. It was nothing in particular that Starscream should care about. Smokescreen would be gone once he figured out where the Autobots were, and that would be that. They would still be his enemies as much as anyone was.

But it felt like some kind of beginning.

Chapter Text

When Starscream woke up the next day, Smokescreen was still asleep. He had scoured the entire ship for berths before, but there were none, so the ground was the best there was. To his disappointment, the ache in his frame remained and he did not feel well-rested at all. Oh well. Life would not wait for Starscream.

He kept the ship's systems offline as he recharged as to not waste soul energy. When he onlined them, there was nothing notable waiting for him. Starscream kept himself busy for a few jours trying to do repairs on a massive drill he had found on the other half of the ship. Unfortunately, he knew practically nothing about mining material and it wasn't as if there was any handbook out there for him. Also, Starscream's only tools were his claws and a solder.

Needless to say, the morning passed quickly, and by the time he returned to the chamber beneath the tiles, Smokescreen was awake. That wasn't the only thing waiting for him. The ship's systems had registered another significant Decepticon ground-bridge - not just that, but the entirety of the Nemesis seemed to be on the move. He couldn't track the ship's location unless it remained stationary for long enough, which it had.

No way Megatron would risk letting it stay still for that long unless there was another relic. Starscream didn't want to get involved. He had already caused enough trouble for himself yesterday, though he didn't regret it. But - the relics were powerful. He didn't want to see what they would be used for in Decepticon servos. Or even in Autobot servos. Starscream wanted these stupid fragging relics gone and the war back to normal simplicity. It was much safer for himself that way, and he couldn't say he wanted to see the war escalate even more. 

The only solution he could think of was to take the relic himself and keep it safe where he could keep an optic on it. Last time, he had failed miserably. In fact, Starscream had almost offlined himself, and the only reason his spark still beat was because of Prime's mercy. This time would be different, though. He was certain that Megatron would be there and he would have to come face to face with the mech he was most terrified of. Just the thought of that made Starscream's knees feel weak but he had to. The war had taken enough from him already and it would take more if he didn't do something.

Decision made, he plugged the coordinates into the ground-bridge generator. Smokescreen frowned at him from where he was sitting against the wall. "Where are you going?"

"Nowhere you need to be concerned about," Starscream said. As far as he was concerned, the silver mech was his one and only ticket to safety from the Autobots. If he reunited them safely, Smokescreen would hold his end of the deal and Starscream would get safety and energon. Without it, he had nothing to bargain with them about - and they could at least be reasoned with, unlike the Decepticons. He had to remember that everyone was his enemy now.

"I can help," Smokescreen said a little too quickly. "I can fight! You saw yesterday, right?"

"I saw the worst aim I've seen in vorns. The only reason you're still online is because of pure, dumb luck," he snapped, and then felt a twinge of remorse. Maybe he was being too harsh.

"Then help me get better! I can learn... I fought in the Battle of Iacon, remember? Or - more like, I tried to fight. And I fought yesterday and that went fine, right?"

Starscream had rather thought that it had been the opposite of fine, but Smokescreen had a point. He would never learn to fight unless he had some actual combat experience and saw mechs who knew how to fight fighting. He would just tell Smokescreen to stay put somewhere hidden and take him back through the ground-bridge on his way out. Unless - the Autobots would surely follow the signal as well, on the same search for relics. This would be the perfect chance to fulfill his end of the deal. Starscream didn't like it, as usual, but he didn't see any other option, as usual.

"Fine," he agreed curtly. "Come with me." He was still truthfully completely exhausted. He wanted absolutely no part of this. He just wanted to stay in the Harbinger and do nothing at all.

Starscream opened the portal and stepped through, blaster pointed. He stepped into a line of trees bordering a cluster of small yellow mountains. Behind him, Smokescreen stepped through. Starscream glanced toward the sky and saw the massive, hulking shape of the Nemesis. It was hard to make out from this distance but there were definitely Vehicons and Insecticons there, excavating something from within the mountain carefully. And - oh, frag - there was the large gray frame of Megatron.

He zoomed in his optics and saw something sticking out of the stone. Was that a sword? No... Not just any sword. "Is that the Star Saber?" Smokescreen gasped. 

"Be quiet," Starscream hissed, but he nodded in confirmation. A legendary weapon, only able to be wielded by a Prime, and holding immeasurable power. Well, there went his hope of keeping it away from either side. He couldn't take it out of the stone, nor could Megatron, nor could anyone but Prime. That was that, then. Starscream would wait for the Autobots to arrive, for Prime to yank the sword out, and then hand Smokescreen over and get his energon.

"What are we waiting for?" he asked. "Let's go grab it while they're busy."

Starscream rolled his optics. "There's no way you can get it out. Look. Even he can't."

It was amusing to watch Megatron attempt to yank the sword out. It didn't budge at all. It wouldn't respond to anyone but a Prime. They watched for a few more kliks as the Decepticon leader grew increasingly desperate. A little later, a cable began to descend from the Nemesis and two Insecticons fixed it to the rock - more than twice as large as Starscream was. "They're going to take the whole thing!" Smokescreen said. "It's only a matter of time before they get it into their ship and leave. We have to do something, now."

"Did you listen? You can't get it out of the stone. Only Prime can. And he's..." Starscream glanced around. "Off gallivanting somewhere."

He waited for a reply but heard none. Starscream ripped his gaze away from the Decepticons and to his side which - empty! Where the frag was Smokescreen? Had he managed to slip away in the five nano-kliks that he had been talking for? There! A sleek white and blue sports car was skidding across the dusty ground, drawing Vehicon fire.

Starscream cursed. Did Smokescreen have a fragging deathwish? He stood no chance. Starscream remained crouched there, frozen, unsure of what to do.

Smokescreen transformed, returning fire. He had courage, Starscream would give him that. He made a run for the stone the sword was lodged into, which had not yet been lifted into the air. Starscream was sure he wouldn't make it, but he did, servos closing around the impressively large hilt of the sword. He felt a sinking feeling in his chassis. No... Of course, there was no way the other mech could make the sword budge.

Starscream watched him try and of course fail. His spark was pounding. No. No, no, no. He wasn't going to watch another mech he could save die. He had to do something! But Megatron was here and Megatron meant danger, meant fear, meant death. His vents grew shaky and fast, palms slick with coolant. Vehicons had managed to surround Smokescreen while he was occupied. The kid's spark was in the right place, but he clearly had painfully little combat experience. He was scrap. Starscream was also scrap if he tried to save him.

But he had to at least try. He had to save someone, at least. Until Prime got here. He would distract the Decepticons until Prime got here. It couldn't be long. Starscream had done this before and lived. What was one more time?

He wanted to wait for his spark to return to normal but Smokescreen didn't have that kind of time. Even now, Megatron advanced on him, pedesteps sharp and heavy. Starscream transformed and took to the air, opening fire immediately, trying to avoid hitting the white and blue mech. Vehicons crumbled and fell. Starscream veered and spun, letting their blasts fly over or under him. Megatron's helm snapped toward the sky and he lifted his fusion cannon without a moment of hesitation.

Starscream soared up, narrowly avoiding the purple blast. He dove down, returning fire. He deployed one missile, watching as it guided itself to the remaining Vehicons. Boom! Fiery oranges and red exploded outwards, followed by a cloud of smoke. Purple metal flew everywhere. Smokescreen ducked and rolled, avoiding the brunt of the explosion. Starscream transformed, pedes hitting the ground hard and aimed a shot at the last Vehicon, decapitating it smoothly. "Run!" he shouted, hoping Smokescreen had the sense to listen for once instead of playing soldier.

"I'm not leaving you here," Smokescreen said, stumbling back to his pedes.

Well, Starscream had bigger things to worry about. He turned to face Megatron's hulking steel gray frame. He could almost feel his spark sinking in its chamber. Every bit of strength left Starscream's frame. He wasn't going to make it out of here alive. It was over, it was over, it was over.

"Decided to come home, Starscream?" Megatron said, face twisting into that awful smirk.

He let out a growl, launching his second missile in favor of responding. Starscream just barely managed to duck out of the blast range. For a moment he thought that he was in the clear, that he could activate the portal and get the hell out of here. Frag Prime and frag the Autobots, he was going to -

Something slammed him into the sheer side of one of the rocks so hard that something in his chassis snapped and broke. Starscream let out a gasp, squirming under Megatron's impossibly tight grip. When the smoke had cleared, Megatron stood there, tall and strong, completely unharmed. He kept Starscream pinned effortlessly with one servo. "Please," he gasped, "please."

Megatron laughed. "I don't take kindly to betrayal, Starscream. Deserting, perhaps, but abandoning our cause? Really? After everything," he said, faux-hurt creeping into his voice. "I had thought better of you, but I suppose I was wrong."

He squeezed Starscream's throat, bending and twisting the delicate cables in pain. Starscream's wings fluttered and twitched in pain, delicate metal shoved up against the harsh stone. His meaningless pleads dissolved into static as Megatron squeezed harder. Please, no. Please, please, please. Any way but this. Anyone but him.

The servo left his throat in favor of his chest plate, digits digging into the seams where it joined into the rest of him. Scared optics met blood-thirsty, ruby-red ones. Starscream didn't even have it in him to beg any longer, nor to say anything at all. Not that he could. His vocalizer spit static.

He saw sparks fly at the edge of his vision as his chestplate hung, half torn off of him. Starscream let out a low whimper of pain, unable to vocalize anything else. "Ready to finish it?"

He would see his trine again, would see Skyfire again. It wasn't all bad. Starscream could die knowing that he had at least tried to right some wrong, had at least tried to be a decent mech, even if he really wasn't. It was going to be alright and everything would be soft and warm and quiet and peaceful.

Somewhere behind him, Starscream heard a groundbridge opening. Megatron heard it too, turning around with a hiss. "Optimus Prime," he growled, releasing Starscream slightly. He tossed him away without so much as a glance back, rushing forward to meet Prime.

Starscream had to stand up. He had to get himself to safety and bridge back to the Harbinger. But he couldn't. There was, really, no fight left in him, no will, no power.

Only sheer, unrelenting exhaustion.

Chapter Text

When Starscream onlined his optics, he was expecting the worst. Either he was about to find out what the Allspark really looked like - or, more likely than not, what the pit looked like - or he would awaken in the Decepticon brig, wherein he would beg to find out what the pit looked like. What he was not expecting, however, was warm white lights and softness under him. Starscream sat up with a groan of pain, examining his surroundings. 

Tall, arching stone walls, metal human machinery, tunnels - Was than an enormous Autobot insignia on the ground? A poor interior design choice. The Nemesis may have been hideous inside and out, but at least it hadn't been decked out in purple insignias. Starscream scoffed to himself - and then realized where he was. The Autobot base?

The last thing he remembered was Megatron, and he was not yet dead, so... Oh, frag. The Autobots had saved him again. Starscream's optics landed on Smokescreen, seated a few feet away from him. "You're awake!" he said excitedly. "You were out for way too long - there's so much I have to tell you."

Starscream looked around again. The base seemed curiously empty. He opened his mouth to speak and was met with nothing but static. Frowning, he reset his vocalizer and tried again, this time rewarded with a choked gasping sound. Starscream looked down at his chestplate, which had been refastened to his chassis almost seamlessly. His very poor solder job, too, had been fixed, leaving him with a smooth, unmarred chassis with no insignia to speak of. Good.

"What... happened?" he managed, his own voice curiously shaky. "After... after..." He could not bring himself to get the words out.

"I met Optimus! Like, I met him face to face. He did yanked the Star Saber out of the rock and it started glowing and stuff - and then there was a big epic fight and he blew up part of the Nemesis. It was crazy. We did all the 'nice to meet you' stuff and then I told them you were my friend and you obviously weren't doing too hot. Then they took you back here and did a bunch of boring medical stuff and now you're fine! I'm - I'm, um, glad that you're okay."

Oh. Prime must have pulled out the sword in typical Prime fashion and fought Megatron to at least a draw. That was good to hear, although it did nothing to reassure him, because Megatron had once again failed to offline him and Starscream was sure he would stop at nothing until he had accomplished that goal. And had Smokescreen just called Starscream his friend? That was... That was... Unexpected.

They had known each other for barely a few cycles! Starscream really didn't have the spark to tell Smokescreen that he had had ulterior motives all along - but something about him... Part of Starscream suspected that he had really not been doing it for any greater purpose and maybe he just wanted some company. Regardless, it had been a very long time since any mech had considered him a friend, much less addressed him as such.

"Thank you," he said, "for holding your end of the deal." There was much more he wanted to say but the words would not come out. Starscream was so, so deeply, deeply tired. Of it all. Not just physically, mentally and emotionally too. Every part of him ached with exhaustion and agony.

"Why wouldn't I?" Smokescreen asked with such genuine confusion and innocence. Clearly, the war hadn't yet crushed that out of him. Had there been a time where Starscream had been just as naive and bright-opticed? He really didn't think so, but then he remembered his Academy days, and how far he had fallen now, or how high he had rose. Whichever one one preferred.

Starscream ran a quick check of his systems. Far too many things remained damaged, but it was slight enough that self-repair and plenty of rest would be able to take care of it on its own. The Autobots had... helped him. Had treated him as they would one of their own. His emotions on that matter were conflicting and confusing, so as per usual, he chose not to acknowledge them at all. "Then I went looking for one of the relics - something called an Omega key? Optimus said it could bring life back to Cybertron, but I really don't know how a key could do that. I actually found it without messing anything up - if I had I think Arcee would have actually offlined me. Then I step out of the little human structure and Megatron is there and he has a purple Star Saber. Then he uses his cheap rip-off and beats the scrap out of us but I had this," Smokescreen continued. He raised one arm, revealing a small device clamped to one wrist. "A phase shifter." He paused for dramatic effect.

"Where the frag did you get one of those?"

"More relics! It's crazy, they just have all of those in storage, along with some weird spider Decepticon frozen in stasis -"

"Airachnid?!" Oh, just how much had he missed while he had been hiding away in the Harbinger?

"Anyways, when I woke up I saw Megatron and Optimus having the most epic battle ever. You know what he called the rip-off? The Dark Star Saber? That's, like, the lamest possible name he could have chosen. And then they fought but Megatron was winning so I jump out of nowhere and save him. He was totally going to be fine anyway, but I needed to get in on the action too. We got the key but the Star Saber actually broke, which I didn't even think could happen."

"Prime managed to break the damn thing already? That must be some sort of record. The last time I was awake, it was still in the stone," Starscream commented ruefully, grateful for the slight edge to his tone. He was beginning to sound more like himself, and that meant he would begin to feel more like himself sooner or later.

"Well, it's not exactly his fault. And it turns out dark energon is real too, which means Unicron is real? And I asked them about it and apparently he's literally the core of this planet? I just woke up from stasis a few cycles ago, this is way too much for me to handle."

Starscream rather agreed. He didn't know what an Omega key was, but bringing life back to Cybertron... If that was even a slight possibility... Everything had just changed. Starscream might have not had anyone or anything, but if there was a chance, however small, that one day, Vos would rise again, he had to take it. He had to do absolutely everything in his power he could physically do in order to make sure it happened.

That was his duty as Winglord. That was his duty to his trine. That was his duty to the seekers who had died in the fall of Vos. That was his duty to the seekers that had died fighting for an empty, broken cause. That was his duty to himself.

If the Autobots had one key... "How many Omega keys do you need?" he asked.

"Oh - Four, I think! Optimus is working on the last three coordinates. This one wasn't exactly a piece of cake - that's a human saying, it means something was easy - but I think we can do it."

Three more keys, then. The Autobots were capable, but so were the Decepticons. Starscream could not take even the slightest chance - Wait, did that mean his allegiance had shifted? It was in the best interest of all Cybertronians to revive Cybertron. But Megatron would just turn it into his personal playground, a planet wide battlefield to test out whatever twisted fantasy came to mind. Just think - everything he had done to Starscream, every sick way he had torn him apart and put him back together just to destroy him again, but on a planetary level. Starscream said, give it two vorns and Cybertron would be uninhabitable again. He would create something just as bad, if not worse, than the pre-war Cybertron they had fought so hard to destroy.

He didn't know what the Autobots would do. But for all their goodness and for all their mercy, they were still soldiers who had survived unthinkable vorns of war. That did things to mechs - it had done things to Starscream, after all. Starscream didn't trust his planet in their servos at all. He didn't trust them at all, actually. He knew they didn't trust him, either, and both of them were equally warranted. Vorns of bitterness and anger didn't disappear overnight.

But still, the Autobots were more likely to rule Cybertron well than Megatron. Certainly, they had seen the destruction that pre-war society had led to - the destruction of their very planet, of the ground beneath their very pedes. Certainly, they would want to avoid it again. But could they? It was hard to keep a government running, and it was even harder to keep a good government running. Starscream knew that much from his brief, if not eventful, foray into politics.

Could Starscream trust them? Could Starscream trust anyone? Could he even trust himself?

If not the Autobots and if not the Decepticons, then who? There were sure to be Neutrals still scattered among the stars, but at least both factions had cared enough for their home to fight for it and not just run from it. Although perhaps Starscream now understood why they had chosen to run - sometimes, the choice between the lesser evil and the greater evil was to leave and simply not choose at all. Someone had to rule, and an Autobot-Decepticon alliance was about as likely as Starscream surviving long enough to see it.

The most he could do for now was keep the Omega keys out of Decepticon servos, and therefore in Autobot servos. He was not strong enough or resourceful enough to take and defend the keys himself. The past two relic-hunting excursions had proven that much to Starscream. It was not ideal, but it was the best solution there was.

Starscream really did not want to work with the Autobots, but he would have to. He reminded himself that that did not mean joining them. Starscream was still a free, neutral mech. The only interests he acted in were of his own interests and the interests of his planet and species as a whole. Oh, when had he become so righteous and fixated on the greater good, or whatever sentimental scrap he was spewing now?

No matter. Starscream would do whatever he could to ensure the keys stayed out of Megatron's reach. He would certainly not join the Autobot cuddle pile, but he could stand to align himself with them - informally, of course, he had no desire to interact farther with any of them other than Smokescreen - for now, at least. 

Smokescreen was staring at him strangely. "You're definitely thinking about something," he commented.

Starscream laughed a little bitterly. "I suppose I am. Way too many things to think about... Everything is so fragging complicated now, and there is just not a single good or easy solution. Primus, the universe really hates us."

The weight of his words was perhaps lost on Smokescreen. But it was not lost on himself.

For the first time in a very long time, he had a purpose. Something beyond a cause he had manipulated himself into serving - because if the Decepticon cause was not true, than it would have all been for nothing. Keep those keys out of Decepticon servos long enough for Cybertron to live again. And, by a long extension, end this war.

End it before it took even more away from Starscream.

. . .

Before Starscream slipped back into recharge (he was exhausted), Smokescreen informed him that Prime wanted to talk to him. His spark immediately beat faster at what exactly this would entail, but he shoved his worry aside and tried, instead, to rest.

When he woke again, his chronometer informed him that it was close to midnight. The base was dark and very quiet. Starscream's optics caught no light but the faint glow of blue optics - Prime. Had he just been standing there, gazing off into the distance pensively? Or whatever it was that Primes did in their spare time.

"Prime," he greeted, keeping his voice carefully neutral. "What do you want from me? I'll give it to you, and then you let me go."

Prime turned to face him and sighed, seeming very tired. Starscream could relate. "You are not a prisoner here," Prime said. "You are free to leave whenever you wish. I simply hoped to speak with you briefly."

Starscream frowned. Free to leave...? Good. He wasn't ready, not yet, to join another faction. He knew the Decepticons were rotten to the core, and he wasn't sure he would trust anyone even remotely like them ever again. Scratch that, he wasn't sure he would ever trust anyone ever again. Starscream just wanted peace and solitude. That was it. "Well, enlighten me then, Prime. I'm all audials."

"You have shown commendable bravery since leaving the Decepticons. You still have a long way to go but it is clear to me that you both have the capacity for and are willing to change. You have helped us many times, sometimes at the risk of your own well-being, and for that, you have my thanks," Prime said in that soft, gentle voice of his.

Thanks? Was Starscream hearing properly? When was the last time someone had said something like that to him, had actually acknowledged the things he did? And besides, Starscream had done none of that out of the goodness of his spark. He had done it because he hated Megatron more than anything in the world and really did not want to meet his end by Megatron's servo, or for the simple reason that he was starved of energon and the Autobots were the quickest method to obtain it. He was not a good mech, but perhaps the intentions did not matter. Perhaps the actions did.

"I... I'm still not joining you," he said. That, of all things he was thinking, was the one he had decided to vocalized. Starscream flinched a little, and then realized that he was waiting for a blow that would not come. Megatron would have thrown him across the room for insubordination.

Prime looked at him with sad blue optics. Was that pity in there? Hopefully not. Starscream did not want nor deserve it. "There is still much for you to learn before you are ready for that. While I would offer you a place at our base as you learn, I understand that you value your solitude and neutrality. Is that still true?"

Starscream thought for a moment. The Autobot base was guaranteed safety from Megatron - in fact, it was the safest place there was against him. He may have not liked the Autobots, but it would mean both protection and steady energon, both of which he sorely lacked. But Starscream was free now. Free of the war, free of Megatron, and free to do whatever he wished.

He could avoid the war entirely if he wanted to. The reason he still chose to get involved was... Actually, Starscream had no idea. But as an Autobot, he was obligated to fight until the war was over or he was offline. And Starscream did not intend to defect a second time from any faction. He would be tied down again, to other mechs, to a place, to a cause. And no matter how pure the Autobots were, Starscream knew the danger of that.

He had just gotten his freedom back, and he would not voluntarily surrender it again to anyone at all. He was his own master, and Starscream's chestplate would remain unadorned if it was the last thing he did.

Starscream nodded, not trusting himself to speak. 

Trust was a dangerous thing. Perhaps one day he would be ready to indulge it, but today was not that day. 

. . .

In the morning, a groundbridge was waiting for him. Starscream took slow, careful steps toward it, trying not to aggravate his many healing injuries. "Wait!" a voice shouted from behind him. "You're leaving? 

Smokescreen.

He turned and sighed. "I'm leaving. Gladly too, I might say. You fulfilled your end of the deal and I fulfilled mine, so there's no reason for me to stick around."

"But -"

"Do you like it here?"

Smokescreen hesitated, and then nodded.

"Do you feel like you belong here?"

Another nod, faster and more sure this time.

Starscream tried to ignore the stab of jealousy that rose up within him. Where was the last place he had belonged? Where was the last place there had been mechs who cared about him and mechs he cared about? Where he had felt safe and warm and loved? Wherever that was, it didn't exist anymore and Starscream just had to live with that. He deserved it, but that didn't make it hurt any less.

"I don't belong here. It doesn't take a genius to tell. I belong somewhere else, doing something else. The Autobots take care of their own. You'll be fine, Smokescreen."

"They could take care of you too!"

Starscream hesitated, but his mind was already made. "Maybe. Maybe in the future."

He turned away, and then turned back around. Smokescreen had called him a friend. He would not let him down the way he had let Skyfire down, had let his trine down. Starscream would not make the same mistake twice. "We'll meet again," he said, trying to sound confident. "Probably not under pleasant circumstances, but we will. Until then..."

He sent Smokescreen his commlink.

Starscream transformed, fired up his engines, and flew through the groundbridge.

He wished he could say he did not look back, but he did.

Chapter Text

The Harbinger was exactly as Starscream had left it. Paranoid as he was, he flew and then walked up and down the entire ship, making sure that everything was still in place. Most importantly of all, his energon was still where he had left it, as were his things. Starscream leaned against the wall, sitting down, and ex-vented a sigh of relief. He was back to quiet solitude with no war and no relics and nothing at all that required his attention at the moment. It was a very good feeling.

Freedom was quite the treat, now that he had some definitive purpose to his life as well as energon. The constant stress and fear of wondering if he would succeed or fail on his next mission, of what Megatron would do to him regardless, of the never-ending need to remain alert and on guard at all times... There were no pedesteps or shouting for his spark to tense up at. No one he needed to run from. No one he needed to plead for his life to. No one he needed to be scared of. No one who would hurt him.

It was all just... gone. Of course, the threat of being a pounded to a fine dust by the Decepticons remained, but it was not as... immediate. Starscream was tired - he was always tired now and apparently always in pain as well. Well, you couldn't have it all.

The deal with the Autobots, he would assume, stood. Starscream was safe from them, at least for now. That was... good. One less thing to be worried about. There was not much he could do about the Omega keys until the Harbinger picked up the next set of coordinates. Then he would do whatever needed to be done. For now, though, there was nothing to do and the ship's systems remained silent and untelling.

Starscream had already recharged a fair amount, so instead he took a cube up to the broken roof of the Harbinger and sat on one jagged edge, feet dangling off into the air. It was quite a pleasant place to be - close enough to home to still feel safe, but close enough to the sky to feel at ease. Starscream fluttered his wings, trying to relieve the tension in them. He couldn't find any pain patches or something similar in the decrepit med-bay of the Harbinger, but he had found a proper welding tool - though he had to confess, he had no idea how to use it.

By now it was night again. Starscream wasn't sure how long he had been unconscious in the Autobot med bay, but he really did not like the idea of being helpless and at anyone's mercy, however pure their intentions. Still, Earth's night sky had a certain charm to it. His familiar Cybertronian constellations, were, of course, gone, and he had no idea which ones the humans recognized, so Starscream amused himself by making up new ones.

Oh, that cluster of stars rather looked like a decapitated Megatron. There was the fusion cannon and the shoulder struts and, oh, of course, the decapitated helm. Alright, that was a little morbid. That one was a... A jet, if it was slightly lopsided and rather deformed. There was another group of stars next to it that looked a little like another jets. Two jets, streaking across the night sky, moving and moving and yet going nowhere all the same.

If only you were here, Skyfire.

For once, the thought of Sky was not accompanied by only pain. There was a sort of bittersweetness now, too. They had been happy together, however briefly. Starscream had had at least that - memories with the only mech he could or would ever love. At least he had had that. Of course, there was the matter of everything they never had, everything they could have had. But that was an impossibility. He wondered, would it have been better to have never known Sky? To never carry this pain with him like a perpetual ache? Or had the happiness between them been worth every eon of pain after?

Starscream truthfully did not know. The one thing that did comfort him was that one day, perhaps, if he tried hard, he would go to the Allspark too, and he would see Sky again. He was not sure if he deserved eternal peace, or peace of any kind. But Starscream was not yet offline, and if he tried, he would not be for a very long time. There was still time to carve out meaning into the empty husk that had long since become his life. There was still time to see Sky and his trine again.

He still had time. He still had time to change things, to fix things.

Somehow, those two jets never going anywhere didn't seem so miserable anymore. Maybe there was a beauty to it. There were still those two jets in Starscream's memory, a postcard-perfect memory forever frozen in time. Nothing but the two of them and miles upon miles of ice, nothing but their joy. Nothing to taint that joy, that happiness. Back when they had had the world. Back when he had had everything.

Starscream sipped his energon slowly, continuing to watch as those small human ships - satellites, if he recalled correctly - zipped across the sky. In a sense, they were almost like shooting stars. Much less pretty, but perhaps the humans were smarter than he had originally given them credit for. It amused Starscream though, and he could almost imagine that they were little metallic humming birds darting across the darkness of space, sipping nectar in between the supernovas.

Shadows settled over the mountains and stones of the valley and over the rusted, hulking shape of the Harbinger. This felt nice. This felt right. This felt safe. Maybe it would all be okay. Maybe he would be okay.

The cool night wind brushed his wingtips. He turned his audials up, straining to hear the quiet chirp and whines of Earth's creatures. Starscream didn't know what they were or what they looked like, but the night sounds of Earth were not too dissimilar to that of Cybertron, though they were significantly less mechanic in nature. Some things never changed indeed. This was what he had been fighting for.

His peace. His freedom. The freedom from the constant fear that lurked around every corner of the Nemesis was gone now. 

And it would all be alright.

. . .

Come morning, the Harbinger reported no further activity. The Nemesis was in orbit again, seeing as no additional coordinates had been logged in the night. Starscream had fallen into recharge on the roof, half-empty cube still clutched in one servo. Clearly, he was much more tired than he had thought. For once he had gotten a decent, full night of recharge, and he woke up feeling suspiciously full of energy.

The first thing he did was move all the machinery that was either useful or interesting into a large, open room that was mostly flat (the entire ship was at an unfortunate downward angle) and close to the energon compartment. Starscream added every table he could find that was still intact and joined them together into something he could vaguely work on. Then he relocated the energon to the same room and subspaced his things. Everything he needed was, therefore, in one room. Easier to keep track of and easier to defend.

Having only one entrance and exist unnerved Starscream quite a bit so he cracked open one window into a hole so small that only his slender frame could slip through it. Once again, his hunt for a berth turned up empty, so he instead piled every vaguely soft material he could find into a big pile in one corner. Afterwards, he stood in the doorway to examine his new lab/hide-out/room. It was very pathetic and definitely a new low, even for him, but he was quite proud of it. Everything here belonged to Starscream and nothing and no one else. Everything down to the choice of where he arranged his lackluster furniture had been a choice he had made for himself. Not out of loyalty or fear, but because he simply wanted to.

That was a freedom Starscream was not used to.

He was no closer to finding a war to mine his own energon. Clearly, the Harbinger had not been equipped with that kind of equipment, and Starscream's only current tools were a solder and his claws. The supply closet's tools had all been crushed into one misshapen metal lump somewhere in the last few dozen vorns. That was definitely concerning. He remembered his panicked hunt for energon at the beginning of his - what, exile? freedom? - solitude and winced. Sneaking onto the Nemesis had not been his brightest idea. Neither had making an alliance with MECH, though he had at least had the foresight to back out of that one.

Still, that was yet another problem he could worry about later. After all his rearranging and another walk up and down the length of the ship to find anything worth his time, Starscream stepped out hesitantly for some fresh air. His spark pounded anytime he left the safety of his room. Every creak of metal and every slight, soft sound practically meant danger. On more than one occasion, he had turned around, missiles at the ready, only to find a small organic creature that had climbed in through one of the many holes in the Harbinger.

Fortunately, there was no one waiting to terminate him outside. What Starscream did find, however, near the front "entrance" to the ship (where it had snapped in half) were two neat cubes of energon. He glanced around, missiles ready to launch, but found no one. He looked down into the and found two pairs of pede-prints. Autobots. Apparently Smokescreen had managed to uphold his end of the deal. That made Starscream's spark fill with something warm and pleasant that momentarily confused him. When was the last time he had felt something like that? Maybe Knockout.

They had had an understanding, if not a friendship. And really, Starscream didn't know what to call it. He would have gladly betrayed the red mech if it meant gaining Megatron's favor, and he suspected the feeling was mutual. Still, for those all-too-brief cycles when dear old Megatron had been comatose, they had planned for a future together. Starscream had even looked forward to it. he would be lying if he said he didn't appreciate Knockout's company at least a little bit. Or perhaps the chronic loneliness that had ran through him since his trinemate's offlinings had finally gotten the better of him. He also, of course, owed his life to him on numerous occasions. Megatron quite enjoyed inflicting just as much damage as was possible, to the point that he was occasionally berth-bound for cycles at a time.

If they met again, it would not be pleasant, and Starscream really wished that it could have gone some other way.

But, of course, they both still lived. It was never too late for anything, he was beginning to learn.

In the meantime, Starscream occupied himself by trying to recall the science he had learned in his Academy days, before realizing that that had been Cybertronian science that was now completely irrelevant. For the time being, anyway. He had to trust that someday Cybertron would rise again. Someday soon. Someday soon, he would go home. So Starscream resolved to learn a little about this planet, while he was still here.

He calculated the force of gravity on the ground, and then found various equations for everything he could think of. It was not difficult work, but it was busy work that required copious amounts of experimentation and calculations. It was good work to take Starscream's processor off of everything. By the time the day came to an end, he had several neat equations for displacement, acceleration, and velocity.

Starscream looked back out the broken window and toward the sky again. Somewhere out there was a dead, rusting world that he hoped against hope would live again. Somewhere on this planet was Skyfire's rusted out frame, locked forever in a distant window of the past.

And somewhere ahead of him was a future. For Cybertron, and for himself.

Chapter Text

The Harbinger's systems picked up another signal a few hours after Starscream had slipped out of recharge. The slight beep that he had rigged the systems to trigger come any new activity rang out through the otherwise silent lab. Starscream's optics widened immediately and he hurried over to the datapad screen. He could not waste a single moment hesitating or stalling - this was not a simple matter of survival or energon, but rather of the fate of his entire planet. Never had he thought that such a burden would fall upon him of all mechs.

Starscream quickly logged the coordinates into the groundbridge generator and hesitated, digit flexing over the button. He glanced briefly around the room - his room. There was a chance he would not return, Starscream knew, and no matter what did happen, he was glad that he had at least had a few cycles where he had something to call his own other than the frame on him. The groundbridge activating, swirling green and purple. He in-vented deeply, and stepped through.

On the other side, he saw a bright, clear lake framed by rolling, rounded green earthen mountains. Starscream crouched behind the nearest boulder quickly, missiles at the ready. He looked out from around it, expecting the worst. He watched as another groundbridge opened, swirling green and purple, and as two Autobots - he vented a sigh of relief - drove out. Arcee and Bumblebee. Certainly not his biggest fans, but capable soldiers.

Arcee glanced around, and Starscream followed her gaze. He stifled a gasp. "Over there," she said, pointing at where the Omega key - golden and glimmering - had been jabbed into its container.

Starscream was immediately suspicious. It had to be a trap. No way the relic was just laying there like a chicken ready for plucking. It would appear he was right, as pedesteps echoed from behind the boulder it had been placed on. "Well, well, just the Autobots I wanted to see," came a smooth, pleasant voice.

Knockout!

The red Decepticon stepped into the open, optics narrowed. Starscream hadn't seen him at all since he had deserted, not even on his expeditions back to the Nemesis. It made him feel immensely guilty that he had not thought twice about the other mech's wellbeing - what, with what had been done to Breakdown and everything that had happened recently, on top of Megatron's usual insanity. But then again, Starscream didn't imagine that Knockout had thought twice about him, either.

"I'll handle the mad doctor, you grab the key," Arcee said, servos shifting into blasters. Bumblebee gave a brief, tight nod of affirmation.

"I've been waiting to thank you both for all the memories!" Knockout thrust his wrist forward, revealing the relic strapped to it. Purple sound waves radiated from it instantly, hitting the two Autobots immediately and pinning them in place. Starscream froze where he was hidden. A relic? He hadn't expected that.

Knockout advanced on Bumblebee while the purple beams kept him trapped. Oh, scrap. If Starscream didn't do something now, the relic was as good as Megatron's. He stepped out from behind the boulder and couldn't quite think of anything intelligent to say. He settled for a, "Knockout!"

The red mech turned around at the sound of his designation, one wrist still not straying from Bumblebee. His optics widened immediately. "Starscream?"

He smirked. "In the metal. Glad to see me?"

Starscream risked a glance into his peripheral vision and he saw Arcee stumbling to her pedes, ready to make a run for Knockout. He tapped into her commlink as fast as he could, which was, thank the Allspark, open. Get the relic while I keep him talking, he sent.

"You're alive?"

"I could return the sentiment! How is dear old Megatron?"

"And how is starving in the wilderness?" Knockout shot back ruefully. He lowered his arm, releasing Bumblebee, though that didn't change much, as the Autobot simply slumped back down against the stone, the relic clearly doing a number on him.

"Still better than the Nemesis. Tell me, Knockout, what is it that you're looking for?" Starscream was stalling. Of course he knew what they were both here for, but as far as the other mech too, he may as well have actually been none the wiser.

"None of your concern, Starscream! Are you just going to stand there or are you going to help me with these fragging Autobots?" he demanded.

Knockout turned, directing the sound waves back at Arcee, who was making a run for the relic, just as Starscream had said. Good, at least someone listened. If she ended up in the periphery of those waves again, she was scrap. Starscream broke into a run and slammed into Knockout just as the waves began to exit the relic. He was not a heavy mech but the force of the impact sent them both tumbling to the ground, intertwined, chestplates pressed together.

He kept a steady hold on Knockout, pointing one missile at him. Before he could register anything, Knockout had transformed one servo into a riving knife. He strained against Starscream's tight grip, managing to get it a few inches away from his throat cables. Starscream kept one knee planted firmly on the relic, ensuring that nothing else could escape it. "Have you lost your mind?" Knockout hissed. "This is bizarre, even for you!"

"Take a good, long look at my chassis," Starscream snapped back. "I serve no one now."

"And here you are, collaborating with those Autobot fraggers! Doesn't seem so 'serving no one' to me."

"What do you think our favorite warlord is going to do with those keys? Revive the planet and then start fresh fighting again. Do you really want to gain back our home and then lose it again? Don't lie to me and say that Megatron is in his right processor now - or for the last few vorns for that matter! Just think, Knockout, if you're capable of it! You're fighting for nothing! Forget loyalty and forget that stupid fragging cause, there will be no Cybertron to fight for if those keys end up with Megatron."

To Starscream's surprise, there was a flicker of something in those cherry optics. Whether it was genuine consideration or simply irritation, he would never know. "Some lecture you can give me about loyalty!"

"If I recall correctly, you were going to usurp Megatron with me. At least I actually tried to go through with it!" Good, get him talking. There was nothing Knockout loved more than the sound of his own voice, after all. Although Starscream didn't deny that it wasn't pleasant.

"Megatron would have had my helm! From what I hear, he almost had yours. I trusted your grand plan one time and look where that would have gotten me! Ground to a fine dust, probably. What makes you think I'll listen to you a second time?" Knockout asked.

Starscream didn't dare crane his head to look back but he prayed that Arcee had made good time and had taken the relic while she still could. Knockout suddenly snapped his head around to where Arcee's servos were closing around the key. He cursed. "Oh, frag you Starscream!"

Starscream didn't even have time to react before Knockout was aiming more purple waves toward the blue femme. He didn't even think before he was leaping to his pedes, placing his own body in front of the waves. He didn't know what would happen, but he certainly didn't expect for a massive force, stronger than anything he had ever felt before, to hit his chestplate. Starscream half expected his plating to break off right then and there from the stress of holding that immense force. But before anything could happen, he was shoved backwards so fast that in a matter of nano-kliks, he was hitting hard wall, cracking it. Something in his backplates cracked.

The sound waves kept coming, sending agony flowing through him and keeping him trapped in place. But Starscream had succeeded. The sound waves were far from the relic. Groundbridge! he commed. Now!

He gritted his dentae against the pain. Oh, frag! Come on, just keep talking. Keep him occupied.

"How is Megatron these days anyway?" Starscream said, choking the words out despite the pain that squeezed him like some kind of serpent. "Same as always? I heard he's replaced me, hasn't he? Oh, and how is Breakdown? Recovering well from the humans, I hope?"

Knockout turned toward Starscream with a growl. "He's dead, Starscream, though I don't suppose you would know about that. Or care."

Coldness hit Starscream. Dead? There was any number of ways it could have happened, and he supposed he could take a guess. They had been close, Starscream knew, something like him and Sky. And to lose him after so much... "I'm sor -"

"Oh, save it! You left too, Starscream, just as much as he did! You're not anywhere near who you think you are - for all your grand, fabulous talk, you left. You left the Decepticons and you left the ship and you left - me."

He didn't even have time to process what he had just heard before a groundbridge opened. Starscream transformed immediately, and saw Arcee and Bumblebee do the same, relic stashed away safely. Starscream didn't have the time to fumble with his own generator, so he sped into the open ones, jet revving and thrusters spitting fire.

He didn't care about Knockout, nor of the Decepticons, nor of anyone or anything else. He really didn't. The one important thing to Starscream was himself, and by extension Cybertron, so that one day he could see his home again as it had once been. That was what he told himself, at least. But was it true? Was it really? 

He sped through the groundbridge portal as fast as he could, leaving.

Again.

Was that all he knew how to do?

. . .

Starscream transformed back, not at all surprised to find himself back in the Autobot base. The groundbridge snapped shut behind him as the two Autobots exited as well. He was met with the grave, slightly worried looks from Prime and Ratchet - Bulkhead and Smokescreen were nowhere to be seen. Another set of coordinates, perhaps? He was very much away from the Harbinger, so he really did not know.

Arcee took the key out of her subspace and held it up.

What happened after was a bit of a blur. Smokescreen and Bulkhead returned with the third key and a story of Dreadwing's defeat. Prime thanked Starscream for helping them. He mumbled out something that might have vaguely resembled words. Smokescreen talked to him and Starscream did not really hear. Everything was far too loud and far too quiet all at once. He was barely aware of the earth under his pedes, nor of what his optics and audials registered.

Kilks passed in a blur. Starscream tried his best to stay on his pedes but truthfully, he was very, very tired. He could do nothing but remember that look on Knockout's face. Not quite anger, not quite betrayal, and certainly, not quite sadness, but something painfully close. In trying to be a better mech, Starscream had once again left behind the one mech who had been there for him, if not in his own twisted way.

In trying to make things better, he had messed them up beautifully, yet again.

Prime talked at them a little longer, and then the group disbanded, which Starscream took to mean that his little team spirit pep talk was over. At least, that was what he assumed he was. Every little noise - the creaking of metal, the voices around him, the quiet whirr of machinery - seemed impossibly loud, making his helm hurt. Starscream needed quiet. Wanted quiet. Wanted to be alone in the Harbinger again where no one could hurt him and he was perfectly safe and perfectly alone.

He must have offlined his audials at one point or another and also offlined his optics at one point or another. Several kliks later, someone was nudging him back into reality. Even the slight touch was jolting to him, like another hit with Knockout's relic. Starscream reluctantly onlined both systems to find Smokescreen. "Are you okay?" the other bot was asking. "You seemed, um... not okay."

Starscream nodded, not trusting himself to say more. Or maybe not really able to say more. His vocalizer wasn't listening to him. Don't worry about me. Just, um, tell me more about what happened with Dreadwing.

He needed a distraction. Starscream listened to Smokescreen ramble on about his first official successful mission and of how he had recovered the relic himself while Bulkhead fought Dreadwing. He was proud of the kid, though he didn't have the heart to say it at the moment. Everything still felt too much. The lights above him were too bright - they were definitely not usually that bright. Smokescreen's voice was, too, much louder than usual - well, not much louder but more grating. Everything felt too much and Starscream felt like a foreign observer in an alien world.

It took at least a jour for him to return to normal. He got to his pedes and stretched, trying to act like no one had seen his previous, rather undignified display. There had been the revelation of the last key being inside Smokescreen, and then the subsequent extraction of it via the phase shifter. That meant... the Autobots could revive Cybertron. In just a few cycles, Starscream could be standing at the edge of a Vos that rose from the ashes like a phoenix. It was all over, he wanted to tell himself, even though it wasn't. He could rest now, he wanted to tell himself, even though he couldn't. It was a all a confusing daze and no one paid any particular attention to him, sitting against the wall, knees drawn to his chest, arms looped around them, one ball of misery. There was simply too much going on for him to be anything but a footnote, to them and to Starscream himself, even.

The main room was empty now, except for Ratchet and Arcee, who had stayed behind, presumably, to make sure that Starscream stayed docile. He had not exactly been paying attention the past jour, but they had received a message from - Dreadwing? Which was really the last mech had expected would contact the Autobots, but he didn't actually care. He just needed to collect himself a little more and then return to the Harbinger.

Arcee leaned against the wall some distance away, pretending to not be staring at him while he pretended not to be staring at her. The silence hung between them, thick and unpleasant. The topic of Cliffjumper sat between them like a loaded blaster. The question was, who would take it first? Turns out, it was her.

"How did you kill him?" she asked after a few kilks of silence. Her voice was low and dangerous.

Starscream instinctively flinched. He swallowed, willing himself to answer honestly. He owed that much at least. "Claws," he said, not quite trusting himself to say anymore than that. "Into the spark chamber. I really won't tell you that it was painless, but it was rather fast."

Arcee looked away. So did Starscream. The silence between them stretched on. "Optimus thinks you can be redeemed. I don't know what I think. But I won't ever forgive you for killing Cliff; even if we do have to work together now."

"I wouldn't expect you to."

That was that. Did he feel guilt? Did he feel regret? Did he feel any kind of remorse? Starscream really did not know. He was just tired and unsure of his place in the world and tired. Tired of it all. He wished that he could offline his optics and then online them again to wake up from this long, terrible dream that had been the war.

But this was a nightmare that there would be no waking up from, no escape from, until he ended it or it ended him.

. . .

The rest of the cycle was, once again, a blur. The rest of the Autobots returned with the forge of Solus Prime, and Prime promptly descended to the lower levels of the base to bang out something. Starscream sat in the same corner, unmoving, listening to Smokescreen talk and occasionally nodding or commenting. He liked the other bot's company. He really, really did.

Things faded in and out of focus like a watercolor blur, like the distortion on a camera, like a drop of rain into a puddle. Before he knew it, he was standing in front of a spacebridge, faced with everything he never had and everything he could have.

Before he knew it, it was time to go home again.

Chapter Text

The Autobots had armed themselves to the dentae with relics. So they had been busy, while Starscream had been desperately trying not to accidentally offline himself. Apprehension clawed at him. He had been back to Cybertron a servo-ful of times after the fall, mostly to retrieve whatever was left and, in the early days, scout out the ruins to see if there was even a chance it was still habitable. It, of course, wasn't, and even if it were, there was not a single standing building left. It would take unthinkable vorns to repair and maybe eons to restore it to even a fraction of its former glory.

The four keys, joined together to create a strange sort of contraption, was laying on a table, projecting a holographic image of Cybertron, with a red mark to indicate the coordinates of... What was it, the Omega lock? Of course the keys would open a lock. Starscream's wings twitched anxiously. He didn't have to do this. He definitely didn't have to do this. As Prime had told him last time, he wasn't a prisoner here and if he so choosed, he could take the groundbridge generator out of his subspace and simply bridge back to the Harbinger.

But Starscream couldn't. He wouldn't. He couldn't sit by idly while the fate of his very planet was being decided. He trusted no one but himself to ensure that the task was completed, and he wasn't even sure he trusted himself fully.

"Yet another astonishing convergence of magic and science," Ratchet said, pulling up an image of their new spacebridge, which had previously been the groudbridge - oh, what was even going on?! "Courtesy of the Ancients."

"And our leader," Smokescreen added. Starscream gave him an amused glance. Leave it to Smokescreen to be Prime's fanboy.

"It's hard to believe," Bulkhead said, "a few swings of that hammer and bam!"

They all turned toward the newly-widened tunnel. "Our groundbridge is now a spacebridge."

Oh, if it had been that easy, Starscream would have had that glorified hammer recovered vorns ago! The base's systems gave several urgent-sounding ping!s. "Our sensors are detecting a massive energon burst occuring outside Earth's atmosphere. A surge of that kind could only mean one thing -"

"The spacebridge," Starscream said. "That they somehow managed to build without me." A chill ran down his frame. The playing field was perfectly level now. The Autobots may have had the keys, but the Decepticons outnumbered them, and it was simply a matter of following them to the Lock, taking the keys, and snatching Cybertron's fate right out of their servos.

"Megatron has discovered that the Omega lock is on Cybertron," Prime said. 

"It appears we have lost our advantage."

Oh, had there been any advantage in the first place?! Starscream flexed his digits, feeling restless. "But with Megatron unaware that we now posess the means for interstellar travel, the element of surprise remains on our side," Prime added.

This was it, then. Eons of warfare had all come down to this, ending where it had started, aided by magic older than living memory. This was it, then. Vos would rise again or fall once more, and that choice lay solely in Starscream's servos.

. . .

Slightly muffled bang!s echoed through the halls of the base. "What's he doing with that thing now?" Starscream asked Smokescreen, who simply shrugged. The power to forge anything, now in Autobot servos... That made him feel slightly better, though not by much. No matter how much of an advantage they held, he was still absolutely certain something would go horribly wrong.

Just then, Prime emerged from the next hallway over, wiedling a... The Star Saber! As good as new, apparently. Starscream's optics raked down its shiny, luminous blade - no doubt, there was power in there. Magic, even. "Megatron must be stopped no matter the cost!"

For once, they saw optic-to-optic.

Prime transformed and sped through the ground - through the spacebridge. The rest of the Autobots followed suit, and after a moment of hesitation, Starscream, too, transformed, powering up his engines, leaving nothing in his wake but two stark lines of smokes, trailing rapidly upward.

What awaited Starscream on the other side was exactly what he expected. Rusted, bombed out buildings teetering on the edge of collapse. A thick gray sky that revealed no light at all from the sun. A few rusty frames of mechs long dead still laying where they had fallen, some clutching weapons. Would he join them today? Death did not scare Starscream so much as laying there forever, having no one who cared enough to dispose of his frame, having no one who cared enough to remember him.

Starscream transformed back, missiles pointed. In front of him, the Autobots did the same. 

He glanced around at his empty, broken world. Cybertron had had wildlife once upon a time, mechanical creatures just like them that had scurried through the energon rivers and through the clear skies and across gleaming metal ground. Once upon a time. Now, there was nothing but silence. They had taken a planet pulsing with life and squeezed it dry.

Prime didn't waste a single nano-klik. He ducked behind some sort of rusty metal structure - a half-collapsed bridge, maybe? The others followed. Starscream peeked over it and ducked back down immediately. Decepticons! A lot of them, too. And Megatron, a thrumming purple blade strapped to his back. Starscream felt that familiar sinking feeling in his chassis, like he was falling and falling into a deep, dark pit. His spark seized and then began to pound.

He had to get a grip on himself. There was no time for panic, certainly not now!

"Bumblebee, get up on the high ground with the polarity gauntlet. Bulkhead, Arcee, onto the wall as well and fire on them from above," Prime said, gesturing toward a large, looming wall behind them. "Smokescreen, get into their midst and divide their attention."

Smokescreen looked more than a little anxious but he gave a single, tight nod, activating the phase shifter. Something in Starscream registered that this could be the last time they ever saw each other. This was war, and they were both soldiers above all else. "Don't be stupid and offline yourself," Starscream said, in the absence of everything he wanted to say but really could not. "I wouldn't... um, That wouldn't be good."

Prime turned to Starscream. "Air support. Don't delude yourself; you grounders will need it," he said, preparing to transform. The thought of taking on that many Vehicons at once, alone, was daunting, but he had to do it. Had to just keep going forward and putting one peded in front of the other until it was over and he could, finally, rest.

Behind the two of them, the other Autobots transformed, relics subspaces, preparing to take their positions. They were surprisingly stealthy, for how loud Cybertronians usually were. "Thank you," Prime said, "for helping us. I understand that this comes at a great cost to your personal safety and neutrality, both of which I will respect to my best ability. This is a choice that you made for yourself, and I am glad that you are attempting to better yourself."

Primus, could Prime try to talk like a normal mech for once?! But that sounded suspiciously like a I'm proud of you, and when was the last time Starscream had heard that? When was the last time someone had actually seen how hard he was trying, instead of just punishing him for the things he messed up? Cracked cockpits and broken wings and bent cables came to mind. He really didn't know what to say, so he settled for a nod of acknowledgement. 

It was time to get moving. There was not a nano-klik left to waste.

Starscream checked to make sure that the others were in their appropriate positions. He had done this a million times. He had faced worse odds and made it out alive. He had made it on his own with no faction, with no allies, with no energon, for cycles now. He had faced worse. Starscream didn't need to look down, didn't need to worry about anyone else. All he needed to do was do what he had done a million times. All he needed to do was be a soldier.

One last time.

Until the war was over and there was simply no longer a need to do so.

He glanced over at Prime, who gave him a sharp nod of affirmation. It was time to, as the Autobots said, roll out (he cringed a little at himself upon thinking that). Many things happened at once - Prime must have commed the others the signal. Smokescreen shifted out of the ground and broke into a run, opening fire on the line of Vehicons. He managed to take them by surprise - at least for a few nano-kliks. He made a run for the wall, leading the Vehicons right into the blast range of Bumblebee, who activated the polarity gauntlet, dropping a massive ball of scrap metal onto the Vehicons. Smokescreen shifted back into the wall, and Starscream ex-vented a short sigh of relief.

Bumblebee transformed, driving down the slanted end of the wall, tires screeching. At the same time, Megatron's red optics narrowed and he shouted, "Crush them!" His sharp voice sent panic exploding through Starscream again, panic he fought to keep down. He had a fighting chance, as much as any of them did. He was not helpless.

The Vehicons returned fire immediately, red blaster strikes cutting through the open air. Starscream took this as his cue and darted out of his cover, transforming and taking to the air as fast as he could. As much as he hated to say it, it was nice to be here again, back up in the air. He did a smooth, fast aileron roll, letting two blasts sail above and below each of his wings. He shot upwards several feet, twisted around, and returned fire, blasting through the Vehicon lines as fast as he could.

On the ground, Bulkhead stassis-locked a line of Vehicons before making a running jump downward, landing heavily. Starscream directed his fire to clear out a path for the Wrecker, doing a half-roll downward that allowed him access to the Vehicons on the ground, before veering back upwards to safety. Bumblebee joined them as they began to advance, making considerable progress. Arcee, too, leapt from the wall, activating the Apex Armor in mid-air.

The Vehicons turned in the direction of her blaster fire. Starscream revved up his engine and shot forward, swooping down and clearing out a path for her. His aim was borderline impeccable, shooting perfect, neat holes through the purple chestplates of the Vehicons. Right on the Decepticon insignia. He flew up again in a curve, resuming his previous linear path higher up in the air. Something passed between them. Not trust, not respect, and certainly not forgiveness, but perhaps something close to an understanding.

The three Autobots charged forward, Smokescreen shifting out of the ground to join them. He did a quick, sharp turn and followed them, shooting at the Vehicons hot on their tails behind them. Megatron's helm snapped up toward Starscream and he nearly fell out of the air. His spark was pounding and pounding and he recalled, painfully, the sensation of his armor being ripped from his protoform, cables snapping and wires spitting electricity. No...

But whatever the case, Megatron deemed him not important enough to pursue. Instead, he unsheathed his blade to join the fray - Starscream felt another chill. The Autobots had a clear advantage for now, but later? No time to worry about that. There was only time to focus on the now and here.

Starscream trailed after the Autobots, speeding up to overtake them. Prime and Megatron's blades slammed together like fire and ice, sending a shockwave through the rest of the battlefield. "I've bested your little blade once, and I'll do it again!" Megatron snarled. 

They exchanged blows, waves of blue and purple trailing through the air, energy exploding outwards in every direction. They matched each other blow for blow, hit for hit, pedestep for pedestep. Meanwhile, the rest of the Autobots continued to clash with the Vehicons. Starscream released his missiles, one toward Megatron and the other toward the Vehicons. They went off spectacularly, like red and orange fireworks.

The Vehicons were blown backwards, a few managing to transform and escape, but most were scrap. Megatron jumped back, releasing a wave of purple energy from his dark energon blade. It met his missile in midair and crushed it from tip to tail, rendering it a coin-sized piece of metal, which clattered harmlessly to the ground before going off with a lackluster bang!, failing to damage anything significant. Starscream cursed - there went his last missile, with nothing to show for it.

"Autobots, fall back!" Prime shouted. "To the Lock!" He released one final wave of blue energy, which sliced through the air like a blade, slamming into Megatron's chestplate. It shoved him back a considerable amount, up into the air and onto the wall.

Prime transformed and the others followed suit, tires screeching and roaring against the long-ago rusted ground of the dead planet. Starscream took a few more blasts at the advancing Vehicons, before admitting that there were simply too many. He jerked himself upward again, did a quick spin in midair to right himself, and then charged up his thrusters and shot forward, following the Autobots.

"I will have those keys or I will have your sparks!" Megatron shouted to the Vehicons still gathered below him, unsure of what to do. Starscream grimaced. Still one for over-dramatic threats that sounded like he wouldn't follow up on, but ones that he definitely would. Starscream had stepped over more than one torn-apart Vehicon corpse on the bad days, and he was sure more than one Vehicon had stepped over his torn-apart frame on the bad days, laying wherever he had been thrown, too weak to get up or comm for help.

"I can help with the last part," Smokescreen said, shifting out of seemingly nowhere. Sharp optics caught the item he held in his servos - was that a Spark Extractor? Smokescreen shifted back into the ground, leaving the relic to tumble to the ground and charge itself up.

A mass of greenish-blue energy exploded outwards, destroying most Vehicons where they stood. Starscream shot just out of its range, feeling the heat of the blast on the edges of his wings. Megatron let out a roar of frustration and threw his blade forward. It struck the Spark Extractor perfectly, dissipating the energy immediately.

Starscream didn't stick around to see what happened next. He flew onwards, trailing the Autobots at a slight distance.

He didn't spare a single glance backwards.

. . .

Starscream transformed and landed, heel struts hitting the ground hard. He stood up, following the others. "Our head start won't last long," Arcee remarked. Starscream, for once, was inclined to agree. As soon as reinforcements were space-bridged here, they would follow - or perhaps they were following already.

"You're all welcome, by the way," he said, dusting off his servos (there was no dust on them). His usually sharp tone fell flat - it was not just him, there was an air of anxiety to all of them, even Prime.

"Who asked you?!"

"I saved your afts!"

"This is where Alpha Trion said we'd find it, right?" Smokescreen asked.

"These are the coordinates," Bulkhead confirmed.

In front of them was a small, oddly shaped, unassuming metal structure.

"Doesn't look like much."

"According to Alpha Trion, the Omega lock is a conduit to the very Allspark itself," Prime said.

Smokescreen hurried forward, taking his key out of his subspace. "Optimus, an honor like this shouldn't belong to me." He moved to hand the key over, but all at once, it started to hum and glow a bright gold. Starscream took a frightened step back. The other three keys were swiftly un-subspaced to reveal that they were doing the exact same. 

The structure in front of them lit up a bright, clean white. The ground beneath their pedes began to glow and then shift, metal parts rising and falling in and out of it. Four massive pillars erected themselves, transforming of their own accord, and then opening like flowers to connect and form a perfect ring. Starscream watched in a mixture of confusion and wonder - he had forgotten the wonder that could take place on Cybertron.

The ring began to glow the same light blue as the energon that flowed through his fuel lines, lighting up in delicate swirls. His attention was torn away by the sound of a jet engine. Starscream turned, as did the others.

Megatron. 

His spark dropped.

Megatron transformed and landed, walking smoothly and surely toward them. "Autobots, I would suggest that you put a halt to your task and hand over those keys. And you too, Starscream - aiding the enemy? I had thought that you could go no lower, but you have once again proven me wrong."

He could say nothing back, frozen slightly in fear, rooted in place.

"And why would we do that?" Smokescreen demanded, blaster pointed to Megatron. 

Behind the warlord, a spacebridge opened, revealing three mechs - Soundwave and Knockout. Where was Dreadwing? The forge of Solus Prime. Right. Megatron must have gutten him too... Starscream's spark, despite its anxious pounding, nearly skipped a beat. Was there a worse place to reunite with Knockout then here, while they stood on opposite sides of a battlefield? And in their servos were... No...

The humans.

"So that I may hand over the humans," Megatron said with a twisted smile. 

No. There was nothing the Autobots cared more about than their little human friends - that much Starscream knew from experience. Was the fate of their world really going to rest on the lives of three humans that had nothing to do with this fight? Was vorns and vorns of fighting going to end for them?

He tried not to be selfish. The Autobots had a bond with the humans, clearly, and what did he know about bonds of any kind? He was selfish by nature but they were not. Maybe the humans really were important to warrant considering handing the keys over to. But surely Prime wouldn't. Surely he would see that the fates of three humans was nothing compared to the possibility of the end of a war that had cost them everything. Surely he would see that the future of their entire planet, and their entire species, was important enough that he could not even consider handing those keys over.

"And if we refuse?" Prime questioned.

"Then I will have no choice but to open the pods, exposing your pets to Cybertron's toxic atmosphere. And then, we can all watch them instantly perish... Together."

Prime couldn't possibly be considering this. Starscream wasn't going to let everything he had done up to this point go to waste because of the Autobot's soft-sparked leader! Vos would rise again. That was his duty as Winglord, but above all else, that was his duty as Starscream to Thundercracker and Skywarp, who had died fighting a war for this very planet. But what could he do?

Trying to get the keys himself was out of the question entirely. He could not defend them from both factions at once. And aligning himself with the Decepticons was far out of question. Starscream didn't trust himself to ensure Cybertron's future if Megatron was the one to restore it and he was the one to rule it after. The Autobots were still much more favorable in general, but if they were about to turn the keys over...

Either way, Megatron won. Either way, it was all for nothing.

Unless Prime was willing to make a sacrifice for the greater good.

Then he remembered. The lesser evil and the greater evil. MECH. Sometimes the best choice was to not choose at all and simply walk away. Lesser or greater, evil was evil. Could he really stand to watch those tiny, defenseless humans suffocate knowing he could have done something? Maybe he could. But could he really live knowing that Cybertron's future had been paid for in blood? The blood of innocents no less.

But could Starscream stand to walk away either? Could he stand to leave again?

"The Autobots were prepared to sacrifice themselves for my planet," one of the humans said. "I'll do the same for theirs."

"Me too, creepy," the one Knockout held added, a surprising amount of bravery in her shrill voice.

The last one gave a scared, hesitant nod.

Perhaps Starscream had misjudged them. He could only imagine it from their perspective - sacrificing their own lives so that a world far, far away could blossom once more, home to beings that would not remember their sacrifice vorns into the future. Throwing it all away so that their Autobot friends could gain what they had fought for. The willingness to die for the ones one cared about...

He wished he could say he understood, but he had long since forgotten what it felt like to have someone he loved enough to do that for. Starscream recalled a shadow, of course, but it was a faint mockery. He wished he could say he understood, but perhaps he was no longer capable of it.

"Perhaps we should oblige them," Megatron said.

"If my decision dooms the future of the Autobot cause on Cybertron, so be it. But I will never forsake our human allies," Prime said evenly. He slammed the Star Saber into the ground, hard, disarming himself.

Starscream stood there frozen, unable to think, unable to move. No. No. No.

It couldn't have all been for nothing.

It couldn't have! But it was.

But it was.

Prime had just thrown away Cybertron's future - or, more accurately, had handed it over to Megatron. Which was worse.

So it had been for nothing.

Starscream stood there, frozen, as he lost everything all over again.

Chapter Text

Prime backed away to join the rest of the Autobots and Starscream, leaving his sword there. One by one, the other Autobots deactivated their relics and slid them over, metal clattering against metal harshly. Starscream knew that he should be doing something - anything - but all he could do was stand there as everything slipped out of his servos like grains of sand all over again. As it all ended, once more. They had come so close to regaining Cybertron, and now...

"If you please, the Omega keys," Megatron said, opening one servo invitingly. "One at a time."

Knockout stepped forward, the pod clutched firmly. "You first, big boy."

Prime gave a nod of affirmation. Starscream got that awful, sinking feeling in his chassis again. He tried hard to avoid Knockout's gaze, which seemed to be saying Happy to be on the losing side? Technically, Starscream was on no side. But no matter what, he lost, because Megatron had won. Yet again. He should have known better. He should have known so, so much better. Megatron always won, after all, no matter how hard he fought, no matter his plans, no matter his schemes. 

Bulkhead handed the key over, not without a, "If I don't get the girl, I'll make you eat this key."

One more piece of a possible future for himself, for Cybertron, for Vos gone. Into the hands of a tyrant, who would bring life back and then bring death back all over again. Just like the beginning. It ended how it started, huh? Poetic indeed.

Knockout, true to his word, apparently, handed the pod over. "You're welcome."

"Get scrapped," the human girl said. Some nerve she had, although Starscream shared similar sentiments.

Bumblebee did the same, exchanging his key for the human. Starscream looked away. It was painful enough to watch his future get traded away for a few organics. Not just his future - every single Cybertronian who would ever live again's future. It was all gone, because they had just thrown their planet away when they had had a once-in-a-vorn chance to save it. This was their only chance to end the war with an intact planet to return home to, and it had been thrown away. Just like that.

Prime turned toward Starscream with what looked like a worried gaze. He had no right. Not when Starscream had helped the Autobots, had tried to be a half-decent mech, for once in his life, just for the greater good that Prime constantly preached, only to have that thrown in his faceplate. May as well bury any hope he had ever had and spit on it too, for good measure. Starscream had tried to look past himself and his immediate survival for once in his miserable, pathetic life. He had tried to do good, and he had tried to do the right thing for Cybertron and for all the seekers who couldn't be here to do it.

He had tried. He really had.

And it had exploded fantastically in Starscream's face.

"This is a difficult decision and I understand if you -" Prime began.

"Don't," he hissed. "Just don't."

Did Prime know that the one reason he had to live now was to restore Cybertron and see the sun rise on it again? Starscream had nothing and no one left. No one to live for. Everyone he cared about was dead or he had shoved away. No cause left to fight for, and too scared to look for a new one. No place to go, except the little existence he had scraped out for himself. Nothing at all to look forward too, except finally laying to rest the memory of his dead trinemates. Scratch that, the memory of every single dead seeker lost to this wretched war.

"If this human was important enough to entrust with the Matrix of Leadership," Megatron went on, gesturing toward the final human, who was in Soundwave's other servo. "He's worth two Omega keys."

Prime couldn't agree to that. He couldn't. Even one Omega key still in their possession meant that the other three were completely useless. But Prime gave another nod to Smokescreen and Arcee, who exchanged glances before beginning to walk forward. Starscream could only watch as the last key was handed over. And that was when he knew it was over. Completely, totally over. There was no reason to keep on fighting or living or even moving forward because it was over.

Megatron could restore Cybertron now and shape it to his own liking, or continue the war until it was scrap once again. He could do whatever he pleased. And nothing Starscream or anyone else could do would stop him, ever. His efforts had all been for nothing. There was no reason to not fly away, find some deep, dark cave somewhere, sit, and wait to rust.

To his right, a groundbridge suddenly opened. Before Starscream had the time to register what he was seeing, Vehicons were flooding out of it. It had been a trap! Oh, of course it had been. Megatron had never said that they would let the humans or the Autobots go, and in what world would he? Here was his chance to kill all his enemies (including Starscream) and gain back their planet, all in one fell swoop. Winning the war with one smooth, illustrious move.

Before long, Starscream, the Autobots, and the three humans were surrounded, back to back in a tight circle. Vehicons, blasters pointed, surrounded them at all sides. This was how it ended, huh? There were better ways to go, sure, but there were also worse ways to go. Going down fighting was not a bad option. Honorable, at least. And standing up to Megatron one last time and losing to him one last time. How beautifully, wonderfully, stupidly poetic. 

"Now, bear witness, as a new era dawns on Cybertron," Megatron said as he inserted each key into its slot on the metal structure. The keys began to glow and hum immediately. 

Light rose upwards rapidly from the center of the structure. Electricity trailed up each of the four pillars, toward the web of blue energy on top of them. "Behold, the age of the Decepticons!"

A blue beam shot from the device outwards without any signs of stopping. It hit one of the broken buildings to their right and after a moment of glowing, the light cleared to reveal a shiny new metal facade. 

"By the Allspark..." Prime said.

Cybertron, restored, good as new. Surely it would be a slow process, but the beam had just fixed a building that had been a hollow, empty shell mere nano-kliks ago. It was, as the human girl proclaimed, an "instant home makeover."

"Shiny," Knockout remarked. Of course that was what he was concerned with.

"You have what you want, Megatron. This conflict is between Autobots and Decepticons. Allow me to return the humans to Earth," Prime said. 

"Oh, I wouldn't recommend it," he replied. "They'll be... much safer here."

"Is the spacebridge locked on target?" Megatron asked, turning back to Soundwave, who nodded.

"Excellent. Why rule only one world, when I can rule two?"

An enormous spacebridge split open overhead - bigger, even, than the web of pulsing blue energy. A portal straight to Earth. Two worlds to be Megatron's playground. The first planet they had fought so hard for was lost. And now, so was the second, along with all the humans on it.

The net of energy overhead exploded upwards, shooting directly into the spacebridge. "No..."

"If the Omega lock can restore Cybertron, it'll do the same to Earth, right?" the human girl asked. Starscream winced at her optimism.

"No. It will cyberform your planet in favor of its new matrix, destroying all indigenous life in the process," Prime said. His voice was soft and very sad.

"Such raw power! What should I call my new domain? New Kaon? Or perhaps, Guilded Earth?"

Prime's optics darted from the muffled protests of the humans to Megatron's triumphant laughter, then back again. Starscream watched as his servo flexed, missing the hold of a weapon within them. He was going to fight, then. For Earth? For Cybertron? It didn't matter. If Megatron fell now, there was still a chance for the Autobots to gain control of Cybertron. There was still a chance, if only Prime was willing to take it.

Prime's servo shifted into a blade and he knocked the Vehicons aside effortlessly, making a run for the Star Saber, which was still stuck in the ground right where he had left it. He yanked it out effortlessly, directing a wave of blue energy forward, knocking down the next line of Vehicons, who fell at Megatron's pedes. He unsheathed his own blade and charged to meet Prime. In one smooth, swift blow, he disconnected Megatron's sword arm - which was red, for some reason - at the elbow joint. His dark energon blade, too, clattered to the ground.

He continued forward, dodging Knockout and Soundwave's blasts with the sword. 

What was Prime making a run for? Megatron was far behind him. The laser directed toward Earth was still moving far above him. Starscream traced Prime's past to - No! The Omega lock itself. He wasn't - He wouldn't - Surely - Surely not -

Prime made a running jump, sailing through the air, and brought his blade down. Right on the Omega lock, splitting it perfectly in half.

The force of the explosion rippled outwards immediately, exploding upwards into a bright orange cloud. Starscream was shoved back and he shielded his face with one arm, digging his heel struts into the ground as to not be blasted away. His processor was churning.

The Omega lock was gone. Prime had destroyed it. The keys, too, were gone.

If he had fought Megatron, there was a chance that they could have gotten Cybertron back, whole and alive. But now? Now there was no chance at all. It was not even a matter of Megatron being too strong to best anymore. It was a matter of there had been one chance to restore our home and now it's gone forever because we threw it away. There was no chance, none, that Starscream would ever see his home the way it had once been. There was no chance, none, that he would see Vos again as it had once been.

He had failed as Winglord. 

He had failed Vos.

He had failed his planet and his species.

He had failed the memory of his trinemates and of every single other Cybertronian who had died fighting for this wasteland, who would have done anything for even the slightest chance of bringing it back to its former glory.

He had failed the promises he had made to himself.

Most of all, above everything else, Starscream had failed.

He stumbled back to his pedes and glanced around. The platform was now a burning, rubble-filled wreckage. Something that had once held so much hope, grounded to flaming dust again. Destroyed, as the war did everything. The other Autobots were on their pedes now too, dusty but very much alive. The dust and smoke cleared enough to reveal Prime, who sheathed the sword. A spacebridge appeared in front of them, swirling purple and green.

Starscream glanced back one more time at his home - no, at this husk of his home. The home he had failed to save.

The home he had failed.

. . .

"The children?" Ratchet questioned as they walked, rather glumly, through the portal, looking, for everything in the world, like a funeral procession. "What happened? Somebody say something!"

"Optimus... destroyed the Omega lock," Bulkhead said, after a long, dragging silence.

Starscream flinched.

"What?! You did -"

"What was necessary," Prime said. "There was no time for another prolonged battle, not with Earth in imminent danger."

Starscream didn't care about what was necessary. He didn't care about Earth's fate. All he knew was that the power to restore their home had been right there, perfectly in the palm of their servos. And Prime had turned his back on their planet and chosen to let it die once more. All those vorns of warfare for Cybertron, and now to turn one's back on it? It was over. It was so, so incredibly over.

"So you destroyed the only device in any universe capable of restoring our home? Optimus... we needed that," Ratchet said. Starscream felt, deeply, his broken, painful tone. He agreed, but he was too worn, too spent, too hopeless to say anything at all.

"You weren't there, doc! And it's not your place to second guess a battlefield decision," Smokescreen cut in.

"Don't," he said to Smokescreen, but the words had left the other mech's mouth already. "Don't make things worse than already are - which is to say the worst things have been at any point in the war."

"It most certainly is," the medic said. "There had to be another way!"

"It isn't that simple," one of the humans said.

"Megatron was using the Omega lock to attack Earth," another added.

"Optimus saved our planet," the last one said.

"What about our planet? All of our struggles and energon spilled, countless sacrifices, for nothing?"

For nothing indeed. Why? Why did the humans deserve to have their home more? And why was it Prime's place to make a decision that doomed their planet and their species to eternal warfare until they all rusted away at last? Why? Why had he been so fragging selfless and chosen to throw it all away?!

"Right decision or wrong, what's done is done. We have another problem, here on this world. The 'Cons just changed the rules when they put Jack, Miko, and Raf into play," Arcee said.

A ping crossed the base's systems. The Autobot's human associate's voice rang through. "Prime! The Pentagon is preparing to go DEFCON 1! I need to know what we're dealing with," he said.

"To what do you refer, Agent Fowler?"

The man on the screen tensed up. "Maybe you should step outside and see for yourselves."

"Ratchet... Watch the children."

The trip up to the top of the base was excruciatingly silent. Once the ceiling opened, revealing a slice of daylight, Starscream bit back a gasp at what he saw.

It was a fortress. Dark and twisted and sprawling, horrifyingly tall, looming up on the horizon. A helicopter landed beside them, and Fowler stepped out. "Megatron has managed to accomplish his first phase of the cyberforming of Earth. The construction of his fortress."

"In Jasper, Nevada? I don't get it. I've got half the town evacuated; why here?" the human questioned. Starscream had a feeling he knew why.

Bumblebee chirped urgently, pointing a digit at the fortress. And at the ship in front of it. The Nemesis was here. It sat there in the sky, black on black, all sharp edges and angles. "Because the Decepticons have discovered the location of our base," Prime concluded grimly.

Less than a klik later, an armada of Vehicons descended from the flight deck of the Nemesis in a smooth, perfect formation - the very formation that Starscream had taught them. They opened fire immediately, and upon passing the pace, did a loop in midair, circling back around, and firing again. None of them had had any time to react before a swarm of Insecticons were upon them, clear wings spread wide and mandibles splayed open.

Starscream transformed both servos into blasters and returned fire. A few hits and they were gone, but there were so many. They only kept coming, hardly even stopping or hesitating. The others did the same, trying to fend off the Insecticons before they could reach flat ground, sending them plummeting over the edge of the base. Prime slashed his blade through the air. Blue energy leapt from it, racing forward, and destroying the rest of the Inseticons in one swoop.

"Autobots, into the base!" Prime ordered.

"Fowler, what are you doing?"

The human had re-entered the helicopter - Was he keen on dying?! "My job, two-ton," he replied, face grim and jaw set.

The Vehicons turned and were circling back around, red blaster fire falling down upon them like rain. Starscream scrambled back down onto the elevator, returning fire again before the ceiling closed over top of them. 

"What is going on up there?" Ratchet demanded once they had returned to the ground floor. Dust was beginning to fall from the ceiling, which was shaking noticeably. Starscream didn't like the thought of tons and tons of earth on top of him, ready to fall down and collapse inward...

"The Decepticons have invaded Jasper," Prime said.

"Fowler seems to think he can hold them off!"

Starscream let out a hiss of frustration. "There is no holding them off! We're all scrap either way."

"Prime! Reinforcements just arrived," came Fowler's voice from the screen.

"Agent Fowler, your military cannot prevail against -"

"Team Prime, didn't think I would let you have all the fun, did ya?" came another voice from the screen - Wheeljack, that other Wrecker, was it?

"It's Jackie!"

"Wheeljack?! But how did you -" Ratchet began.

"Picked up a strange energy surge. Hope you don't mind the company," Wheeljack said.

"No! It's just that, after everything... Well -"

"We're still on the same team, Doc, always will be."

...Was Starscream on their "team?" They didn't trust him completely, he knew, and they would never entirely forgive him, but for now, anyone against Megatron was an ally. He saw no point in fighting anymore, no point at all - no point to doing anything after the Omega lock, but... He would not go down without a fight. 

"Ratchet, prepare to bridge everyone out of here," Prime said.

"We're... abandoning the base?!"

"The base is lost. Wheeljack and Agent Fowler can only buy us time to escape. Bumblebee, Rafael, you will go first," Prime said, voice steady.

"You're splitting us up?"

"We must disperse to avoid capture. Until we can regroup and form a counterattack, survival is our only priority now."

Starscream watched with a certain amount of numbness as each of the Autobots departed. He turned to Smokescreen. It had not been long with him at all, but he had to admit to himself, he cared for him. Starscream had to tell him that now, while he still lived, which he would not for long. "Be... be safe," he said, each word not willing to come out. "There is always a chance to rise again."

But not for Cybertron. And definitely not for me.

Smokescreen nodded, blue optics wide and full of sorrow. He didn't even seem like the bright-eyed, naive young mech Starscream had rescued mere cycles ago. Not at all. The war had taken more from them all than just material things.

The groundbridge opened, then closed, and then Smokescreen was gone.

"I will have Ratchet bridge you back to the Harbinger, or to another secure location," Prime said. "We owe you that much."

Starscream turned away. He could run and hide again, as he always had. He could leave again. He could prioritize nothing but himself and his own survival. Starscream could go on as he always had. Or...

Maybe it was time to stop running and face what was chasing him. Starscream was not stupid. He knew that it was a hopeless battle. He knew he would be one with the Allspark. But there was nothing left to live for. Cybertron was as good as gone and with it, any hope he had of righting his wrongs and building a future for himself. Any existence Starscream scraped out from here on out would be meaningless. Nothing worth living, certainly.

Skyfire, Thundercracker, Skywarp.

He would see them all again. What would they think of Starscream? Would they be proud? Disappointed? Or would he simply not see them again as he fell down to the deepest, darkest part of the pit?

There was nothing left to live for, but Starscream would stay here and make the last stand he would ever make. He was done running from Megatron. He would stay here and stand his ground regardless of what happened.

He was done running, and that would be the death of him, but for once he did not care.

"I'm going to stay," Starscream said. "Be a thorn in dear old Megatron's side one more time. For old time's sake, as they say."

"What about you, Optimus?" Ratchet questioned.

"I will ensure the Decepticons cannot follow," Prime said. Ever the noble, self-sacrificial type. Some things never changed?

But for that moment in time, small and brief as it was, Starscream held no ill-will toward Optimus Prime. Things had been done, mistakes had been made, and now they would join the Allspark together. In the face of death, nothing mattered. In the face of death, the largest things seemed completely insignificant.

Ratchet walked forward, staring into the depths of the groundbridge. "I... never imagined it would end like this."

The groundbridge had closed when Prime whispered his reply. "Neither did I, old friend."

This certainly wasn't the end Starscream had imagined for himself. It wasn't even the end he had wanted for himself. But it was the end that he would get, and in many ways, it was much, much more than he deserved.

They had maybe one or two kliks before the Nemesis flew over the base and obliterated it completely. Prime turned toward the groundbridge generator and shot it once, twice, thrice. It was far from operational now, and any lasting comm link or trackers would go down with the base. They would die so the others could live, whatever that might mean and whatever that might look like.

Prime glanced down at the seeker. "This may not be the end we envisioned for ourselves," he said, "but for what it is worth, I am honored to end this life beside you, Starscream."

He looked up at Optimus, unsure of what to say. There was too much between them even now, even at the end. "And thank you," he replied, "for giving me the chance to stand my ground one final time."

Starscream looked away and waited to die.

Chapter Text

"Starscream? Starscream!"

Someone was calling his designation. For a moment, he was unaware of anything - not of his own systems, nor the information they were sending to him, nor of himself at all. For a moment, he was in freefall. And then the sound of someone very familiar but that he could not recall rang through the air again. Starscream let out a low groan of pain.

He onlined his optics. He was... alive. Starscream was alive. How? The entire base had collapsed on top of them, fire and rubble and all. The last thing he remembered was... Optimus! He had thrown himself over top of Starscream, shielding him with his own frame. And now the Prime lay next to him, silent and unmoving.

He looked up to find - Smokescreen?! "What are you doing here?" he hissed, vocalizer more static than sound. "You're going to get yourself killed!"

"I came back, for you and Optimus," he said. He turned over to where Optimus lay and his face fell.

Starscream followed his gaze to find a grim sight - the Prime was injured, frame broken and cracking in places, optics dim. He was still online, but just barely. He looked himself over - battered and scratched, but really quite alive. Optimus had effectively sacrificed his own life... so that Starscream, of all mechs, could live. But he didn't want to live. He really, really did not. There was nothing to live for and he had made peace with joining the Allspark - and now, he was still alive.

Starscream stared down at the ground - where was he, anyway? It was a small cave, enclosed at all sides by stone. Impossible to get in or out of, except with the phase shifter. Claustrophobia ran through him immediately and his spark pounded and pounded. Stone on stone on stone, all pressing down on and around him. Stone above his helm, stone beneath his pedes, stone at every one of his sides. Unbreakable, unyielding, unforgiving stone.

No. He was alive. No.

There was no point in living anymore, in being alive at all. He had made peace with that fact. No cause to serve, no trine, no Skyfire, no faction, barely even a home. Starscream had nothing. The war had taken it all, and it seemed to be the gift that just kept on giving. Starscream had been ready to join the Allspark. It had already been too long of a life and he had done too many things, most of them not good at all, and he was ready to go.

But Smokescreen had to have dragged him out of the rubble. He had to have...

"Why?" he whispered. "Why did you have to do that, Smokescreen? I was ready to die. I - I had it all figured out but you just had to play noble Autobot. You - you just had to."

Smokescreen looked at him with wide, worried optics. "You saved my life once even though you didn't have to," he said quietly. "You're my friend, I couldn't just leave you or Optimus behind like that, not where I knew you guys were still alive."

An optic for an optic, then. But Starscream would rather leave that debt unpaid and that score unsettled than to be here, optics still alight, spark still pounding. And worse yet was the fact that Optimus looked like literal scrap, and he sat here, relatively unharmed. Optimus was the last chance any of them stood against Megatron - without him, the Autobots were scattered to the wind, disorganized and on the run. Not to mention that he was the only one who could kill Megatron - and therefore cut the head off the beast that was the Decepticons. Without him, the war was over for good.

Starscream had just about given up on his own mission and on his own life, but he knew the Autobots well enough that no matter how humiliating and terrible the defeat, they would simply regroup and try again. Like cockroaches. As long as there was even one Autobot still online, the fight went on. The war was not over in the grand scheme of things. But if Optimus offlined, then it was. For certain, this time.

And Optimus had nearly thrown that all away to save him. Starscream, who had more energon on his servos than he cared to think about. Starscream, who represented still the very things he stood against. Optimus had nearly thrown away the entire war, for him. He wasn't worth that. He wasn't worth anything.

Optimus's optics suddenly grew a touch brighter. He let out a pained groan, and then several shaky, labored vents. "How... how did I get here?" Even his vocalizer sounded like he was choking on gravel.

"When we were evacuating the base, just as the 'Cons opened fire, it was my turn to groundbridge away. But I couldn't do it. I couldn't let you and Starscream face Megatron's army alone. Not after you've saved my life, given me a home, and given me something to fight for. So I snuck back. But that's when the blast hit and the whole joint came tumbling down. I managed to pull both of you from the wreckage before the 'Cons dove in, using the phase shifter. Which I managed to snag in the chaos on Cybertron. I'm... I'm sorry I defied your orders. But we're down so deep that no one can pick up our signal. I'll have to scout above ground if we have any hope of finding Ratchet," Smokescreen said, his voice strained and worried.

"No... no hope," Optimus managed. It was then that Starscream realized that was the most broken and hopeless he had ever heard the Prime's voice sound, and he had been in many broken, hopeless situations before. Normally, it would have made Starscream's spark sink, but at least someone else knew that it was over. The war was technically not, but it may as well have been.

And it definitely was for Starscream.

The one reason he had had to live, to move forward, had been to restore Cybertron. And they almost had. It had been so close, and then... Then Starscream had failed. He had made a promise to himself, and he had failed. So there was no point in sticking around for whatever came next, not in this life, the one he had messed up so wonderfully and beautifully. Dying was the best thing there was for him, and sacrificing himself was perhaps the best thing he had ever done and would ever do.

But Starscream still lived. In his opinion, though, it was not really living. He was just... here, but with no reason to be here, was he really?

"What do you mean? The doc's the only one who can get you patched up!"

Optimus's silence was telling enough.

"Usually I would be inclined to disagree with whatever comes out of his mouth, but Optimus is right," Starscream said, leaning back against the rough stone that cut into the delicate sensors in his wings. "We're scrap. We were scrap in the rubble and now we're scrap thousands of feet underground, and I think I know which one I prefer."

"We're all still alive! It's not over until we're dead. Are you really going to give up that easily? Are both of you?" Smokescreen demanded.

"Then what do you propose we do? I'm sure you have an amazing plan tucked away somewhere."

Smokescreen began to pace, as much as the tight, narrow space allowed. His movement only served to remind Starscream of both his own pounding spark and the stone all around him, threatening to crush and rip him apart. "I combed through all the ruins while you two were unconscious. I couldn't find anything. Not even a bandage. The 'Cons must have picked the place clean..."

Starscream, despite himself, found his processor scrambling for ideas. He was alive now and that was very, very unfortunate, but as he always had, he had to make the most of it. There was no long-term goal to any of this at all, except the promise of more eternal fighting until they all offlined, but in the short-term, he could at least repay Optimus for saving his aft. Starscream opened his subspace and dumped out the contents, finding only his groundbridge generator.

"See?" Smokescreen said, trying his best to sound optimistic. "That's something!"

Starscream gave it a tap, opening the screen. "It's almost out of energon. I can't charge it up again without the equipment from the Harbinger, and I don't have any energon to hook it up to. I really don't feel like drawing my own energon and trying to feed it in; not that that would work," he said.

"Can't we go back to the Harbinger?"

"And risk onlining the wrong system and sending Megatron's minions scrambling? It's full of Cybertronian technology, it's the first place they would expect us to go. Besides, I don't think he can walk, let alone groundbridge," Starscream said, gesturing toward Optimus, who was so silent and still he may as well have been a corpse.

"The... forge of Solus Prime," Optimus said. Even those few words seemed to sap his frame of energy.

"Wait... if you had the forge, you could fix yourself up. Power of the Primes! Optimus, hang on just a little longer. That hammer's gotta be somewhere in Megatron's fortress."

Starscream glanced at him. It was suicide to try and storm Megatron's new, dramatically dark lair alone. But there was no better option. With the phase shifter, he stood the greatest chance of success - preferably alone. Dragging Starscream through walls along with him would only slow both of them down. "Hurry, before his spark stops. And be careful, unless you want to keep me and him trapped in this hole forever," Starscream said.

Smokescreen nodded, apparently too anxious to say much, and shifted into the wall. Then he was gone, leaving Starscream once again wondering if that was the last time he would ever see his friend. A more pressing concern was that if Smokescreen never returned, the phase shifter never would either. Leaving Starscream to starve to death slowly in a space too small to go more than two paces, where it was too dark to see practically anything. His wings fell downwards and he offlined his optics, trying to pretend he was somewhere else - anywhere else.

"We're probably going to offline here," Starscream remarked, cutting through the silence. He had to keep talking, because he was scared and very much alone and he did not want it to be silent, in addition to dark and cramped. "I could really think of better places to do that. Like Vos. You know, I thought that I would go there at least one more time. Maybe even see it the way it had once been. But at least see it, even if it's as it is now."

No response. Probably expected, seeing as one of them was actively dying and the other wasn't. He onlined his optics again to find Optimus's blue gaze still trained on him. Starscream could not, for the life of him, recall any proper medical procedures, but he would bet all his energon that if the Prime offlined his optics, they would never open again. Best to keep him alert and aware and listening until Smokescreen could return with help - if he ever managed to return.

"Every vorn, or sometimes less than that, I would make up an excuse to feed to Megatron to let me go back to Vos and Cybertron. I'm not sure if he ever bought it, but I'm awfully good at spinning bullscrap, I would say. I don't even know what I was looking for there - survivors? Anything that survived the bombing at all? I never found anything I looked for and I think I actually lost something there. I don't know.

"But at least I got to see it. I haven't been back since we landed on this fragging mudball of a planet - no spacebridge, and once we did get it operational, your Autobots blew up the whole fragging thing before I got the chance. My home's been gone a long time but I guess it's gone for good this time. Everything's gone for good now, at least for me. It's rather sad, isn't it, though I don't doubt it's nothing I don't deserve.

Optimus's larger servo closed around his own, cool metal digits against cool metal claws. Starscream hesitated, before squeezing back. He really did not know what to do anymore. But dying in a hole with Optimus Prime had definitely not been how he imagined he would offline. Smokescreen will come back. He has to. Just keep talking and keep him awake and not dead until he does. That seemed like an insurmountable task.

"I... I always find myself in the same situations, over and over again. The same things keep happening to me and I get hurt all over again. Then I try to learn and then it just happens again. No matter how hard I try to change things or to change myself, they just keep on happening. I forsake the war entirely and it comes back on my doorstep with a banquet of roses. I betray Megatron and leave and he still nearly kills me. I try to do better but I really don't. Nothing ever changes for me, does it? 

"At the Academy of Science, we had to design a perpetual motion machine for one of our fall semester grades in an engineering class. A machine that repeats the same motion over and over and over again, until it runs out of fuel. A deceptively simple concept, but certainly a complicated one. That's what I think of when I consider, now, my pathetic little life. The same things happening again and again in an infinite loop, repeating itself over and over and over until my spark snuffs.

"Maybe this is the last time things will repeat themselves. Maybe this is really the only way out for me. I don't know how to break that cycle, and I really don't know if I'd be bothered to try."

"You will live," Optimus said, his voice still shaky. "Even when there is no reason to go on, you must. And I trust that you will find the strength to break free from what traps you, whatever that may be."

"The pep talk is nice, but I'm really not sure I'll live long enough to -"

Starscream heard the distinctive, unmistakable sound of a phase shifter activating. He turned. Smokescreen! Relief tore through him. He wasn't sure if he could take losing anything or anyone else. He was dragging behind him... The forge! He had done it. He had really done it.

Then Starscream questioned why he felt relief or excitement at that thought. He had given himself one reason to wake up from recharge every morning. One singular reason and one singular goal to see to fruition, because that would mean it had all been worth it in the end. But he had failed horrifically, and because of Optimus, Cybertron was doomed and it had no future, and nor did he. There was nothing at all left for him. Not on Earth, not on Cybertron, not with the Autobots, not with the Decepticons, not alone. Nothing at all left for him anywhere at all.

"You're alive," he said bluntly, in lieau of anything more intelligent. He had just poured out his spark to the last mech he should have, and he didn't deny that it was a little embarrassing.

Smokescreen smiled a little. "Of course. I said I would be back. How... is he?"

"Still dying. Whatever it is you need to do with the hammer, do it fast."

"Optimus," Smokescreen said, bending down. "The forge, you can use it to repair yourself."

"That... is not the reason I had you retrieve the relic."

"What?!" Starscream and Smokescreen demanded, nearly in unison. Did Optimus really have a plan? With how bleak things were, Starscream really did not know what any sort of plan for the future might warrant.

"The power of the forge is not unlimited. It's energy has already begun to ebb."

"So it's running low. Who cares?! What we need is enough juice to get you back into fighting shape," Smokescreen insisted.

"Whatever power remains must be used to rebuild the Omega lock, to restore Cybertron. The fate of all our kind is more vital than that of anyone of us, including me," Optimus said.

Starscream stared at him, a little shocked. He was willing to sacrifice his one and only chance of survival for... the greater good? For the slim chance that the forge could rebuild the lock and that they could get the keys back, and wrestle control of the planet into Autobot hands. Hope blossomed in his spark chamber. There was still a chance. For Cybertron to rise again. For Vos to rise again. For Starscream himself to keep going and rebuild his home and make things right with Knockout and perhaps do enough to one day see his trine and Skyfire again.

But that would mean Optimus's death. It was one or the other. The greater good surely mattered more. Starscream had judged Optimus for choosing the humans over their own planet this very cycle. And yet now, staring at the dying Prime, he was not so sure at all. Logically, he knew that Cybertron was the reasonable choice and perhaps the only choice. But on every other level, Starscream didn't know at all if he could live knowing that he could have saved Optimus and chose not to.

"Optimus... the forge is a relic of the Primes. We can't use it to restore Cybertron, not without a Prime... not without you."

"There will be... a new Prime," Optimus said.

"You can worry about that after we get you patched up," Smokescreen said, rising to his pedes again. Starscream knew what was coming, though, and he flinched a little at the thought of it.

He turned away, but Optimus rested one servo on his arm, pulling him back. "The time for a new leader is upon us. In my spark, I believe that leader stands before me right now."

Smokescreen?! The kid was good, yes, but ready for the responsibility of his entire planet and species? No. Starscream wasn't sure anyone currently alive was. And he certainly wasn't. He could not even manage his own responsibilities and his own self, let alone everything being a Prime came with. Optimus was desperate, that much was clear, desperate to avoid the choice between himself and Cybertron's future. But with no Prime, there could be no Cybertron. 

"It is time. The Matrix of Leadership will only present itself to one who's spark is worthy."

"Don't do this to him," Starscream said. "You know he isn't ready. If you have to give the damn thing to someone, give it to me."

He knew full well that his spark wasn't exactly worthy either, but if that spared Smokescreen the crushing pain and the crushing responsibility of quite literally having to restore a planet that had been dead for vorns and of bridging the gap between a species that had fought for so long... Starscream knew what power and war did to mechs. It scarred them, destroyed them, changed them. Let it destroy him, then. There was nothing left for him anyway.

But there was only resounding silence. The Matrix would choose one of them, or it would choose no one at all, and either way, they were scrap.

Not even a klik later, and Optimus's optics had dimmed to nothing.

Starscream sat there, frozen. No... No. It couldn't be. It absolutely couldn't be. He was a little surprised to find his optics welling up with coolant. There it was. The nail in the coffin for Cybertron, for the Autobots, and for himself. Optimus had given his life trying to save the one mech undeserving of it. And this was the result.

No Cybertron, no Prime, no peace, no Autobot victory.

Nothing at all.

"Starscream, look," Smokescreen said urgently.

The sides of Optimus's chestplate had sprung open to reveal... The Matrix of Leadership. It was silvery and magnificent, glowing a blue that filled the entire cave. "There has to be another way," Starscream said. "This isn't - this - this can't be how it ends."

Because they both knew that no one could be Prime but Optimus, at least for now, and no one could end the war or save Cybertron. Not without him. This was not how the story ended. It couldn't be.

They exchanged glances, and both their gazes fell to the forge of Solus Prime, still on the ground. They nodded to each other. Starscream knew what he had to do with absolute, sure certainty. He had not known anything with this much confidence and certainty for as long as he had been online. But in that moment, he knew what to do.

. . .

Optimus Prime's digits snapped around the handle of the forge, like they had been made to hold it. Electricity pulsed down its sides. Blue energy exploded outwards, bright and blinding.

Starscream let the light bathe him, let it light up his silver plating.

This was not the end.

There was still time to build back the bridges he had burnt. There was still time for him to change himself. The dead were dead and what was done was done but Starscream still lived and there were still wrongs that he needed to make right. He thought of a certain cherry-colored mech that he swore to himself he would never leave again. He thought of a dead, rusting planet that could one day rise again. He thought of the seekers buried beneath Vos, who deserved for their home to shine once more. He thought of the duty he still had.

And the blue light lit it all up, brighter than daylight.

And the perpetual motion machine went forward, as it always had, but perhaps a little slower this time.

Chapter Text

Starscream watched as Megatron's fortress collapsed, piece by piece, dark shapes falling into each other, twisted spires colliding with the ground. The Nemesis was on the move already, carrying with it Megatron and the rest of the Decepticon command, once again escaping their grasp. He transformed and landed on the ground, watching as the smoke from the explosion trailed upward. It was very nice to be out on the open, wide ground again, and to be able to see the sky in all its vast, azure glory.

The adrenaline of battle still rushed through him, but duller and more muted. He was just so glad that his spark continued to beat and that he was no longer in that tiny, cramped cave. Starscream's instinct remained to live, and now that he was alive, he found himself still grateful for it. The forge was out of energy now, and with it died any hope of restoring Cybertron. He should have felt hopeless. He should have felt empty. And to some degree, he did.

But to an even greater degree, Starscream felt hopeful, which was stupid since there was nothing to be hopeful for. Even if by some miracle the war could be ended or won, there was no planet to go home to - not one worth going home to anyway. Still, he could not say that he regretted using the forge's last leg of life to save Optimus, even if he had effectively thrown away Cybertron's future in the process. Maybe the greater good was occasionally worth disregarding.

The battle was a blur of blaster fire and smoke and Starscream could not stress enough how surreal it still was to fire upon the very troops he had trained for vorns. Well, he had no idea if they were the ones he had trained, or if those Vehicons had become cannon fodder already. The thought saddened him for a reason that he could not quite place. 

Regardless, Darkmount was now in the ground, and the Nemesis, too, was gone.

Ultra Magnus being alive took Starscream by surprise, but some bot wandering the galaxy for vorns always seemed to turn back up on Earth at the most convenient time possible - or at the most inconvenient time possible. He really didn't want to have to explain to the Autobot commander - or Wheeljack, who had turned back up from who knew where - the entire story of how he had ended up fighting alongside the Autobots. In reality, he really did not want to do anything.

Too much had happened, from finally being able to save Cybertron to that blowing up in his face to accepting his death to having to live again and now, destroying Darkmount. He had to give it to them, the Autobots knew how to make insurmountable odds work in their favor. Megatron was not without power - he still had the entirety of his army, the Nemesis, most of the relics, and apparently Shockwave and the Predacon. Because of course that fragger had survived something no one should have been able to survive and arrived back on Earth at the most inconvenient time possible.

Things had gotten to be such a mess in the span of just a few cycles.

Starscream wanted to go back to the Harbinger, but he was promptly informed that the Autobots had been using it as a base of operations for the last few days, knowing that it was still full of Cybertronian technology, and that Megatron had ordered an attack on it. He couldn't explain the sinking feeling in his chassis - or he could, really. That was the one place he had been safe, that he had been able to call his own, even if it had been for a painfully short amount of time. Starscream's things were still there and he held out hope that they had not been crushed beneath the rubble.

The one place that had been his own, that he had thought Megatron could not take from him, was gone now too. Even when he was not here beside Starscream, he still took and took and took, didn't he? Was there any escape for him? Ever? At all?

That was how Starscream found himself on Ultra Magnus's ship. Not because he wanted to be there or wanted to be with the Autobots more than he had to be - he wanted his neutrality back again and his solitude and peace, but there was nowhere else safe for him to go. The Autobot base was gone and now the Harbinger was on Decepticon radars and surely destroyed as well. He would rather claw his own optics out than return to the wilderness, starving and alone. There was simply nowhere for Starscream to go.

That was rather fitting, wasn't it? He didn't belong anywhere. The Autobots would never fully trust or accept him. The Decepticons would never take him back - maybe as a deserter, but not as a deserter and a traitor. There was no place for him on Cybertron because there would be no habitable Cybertron ever again - and even if there was, Starscream would be the Winglord of a long-dead city, with no other seekers currently online that he knew of. There was no place for him on Earth - he did not wish to rule or destroy the humans as the Decepticons did and it was simply too late to build back any trust with the organics, not when he had tried to destroy them so many times. Even the little place in the universe he had carved out for himself - the Harbinger and his prized, prized solitude was gone now, reduced to smoke and ash, surely. He had tried so hard not to let the war back into his life but it had squirmed its way back in like a troublesome scraplet.

So while the Autobots held their little family reunion (they were soft-sparked and weak and stupid for that and Starscream definitely didn't feel jealous in the slightest), he slunk his way down the nearest doorway and out of their sights. Or perhaps to get them out of Starscream's sight. Any sort of connection to anyone was a weakness that could be exploited, by them or by anyone else. That was what he had learned after so long at war and so long amongst Decepticon ranks.

It was why he was so sure he could never join any faction again. He knew, logically, that there were relationships that did not hurt, love that did not feel broken and torn. But Starscream had so much trouble believing that such a thing existed anymore. If it did, he was just not capable of it. Everyone he cared about ended up hurt or dead. Mostly dead. He really didn't know if he could feel any sort of emotion or connection toward another being anymore and if he could, he didn't want to try because Starsceam knew already how it ended.

And seeing the Autobots and their human companions enjoying each other's company, grateful for Optimus's return and survival, so effortlessly, so naturally, hurt. There! Starscream said it. It hurt. It really, really did, and he didn't know what that said about him. He just wanted someone to hold him tight and close and never leave him broken and alone. He just wanted someone to care about him and love him and for his love back to them to not hurt them.

He just wanted someone to care.

Now that was pathetic. This seemed to be a new low, even for him.

As per usual when the loneliness got to him, his wings began to ache and itch in a very particular way. There was no equivalent to it in grounder terms, really. But seekers, by nature, were very social creatures. Their survival and well-being in any sort of circumstance, especially in the stress of war, depended on their trines. Without it, a seeker was alone and helpless and not really a seeker at all.

They had been built that way, after all. Wings needed to be preened periodically, or else the sensors would begin to fail and flight would be intensely uncomfortable. It only took one look at the length of Starscream's arms as opposed to the distance from them to his wings to know that this was a job meant for one's trinemates. He could still remember, even now, the ghosting touched of warm servos across delicate metal. Oh, what he wouldn't give to feel that again, even one more time.

It was a curse to be the last one of his kind alive. And it was even more of a curse to be a seeker, for to survive they required companionship, and that was the one thing Starscream did not have now and never would have again.

. . .

It took a little poking around but Starscream finally found the engine room of the ship. If anyone saw him go, they did not comment on it and Starscream kept his commlink tightly shut. Some stupid, vulnerable part of him wanted them to go after him and ask him what was wrong. And then it would call come spilling out and they would all - They would all what? Crowd around him and tell him that they were sorry that he had gone through everything he very much deserved to go through? In Starscream's dreams, maybe.

In any case, no one came after him and no one looked for him. He avoided the hot, energon-burning engine carefully and instead sat down in one of the corners, tucking his knees up against his cockpit and looping his arms around them. The rumble of the engine caused the small room to jerk and vibrate nearly constantly. The motion soothed the sensors in his wings - it was the one way Starscream had found to relieve the ache in his wings without the aid of another mech.

The atmosphere on the Nemesis had eventually gotten to such a breaking point that he needed to do it every few cycles. The Vehicons who guarded the engine room - and there were many of them, for the destruction of an engine would mean the crashing of the entire ship - had been threatened, extensively, to not vent a word of this to anyone at all, and certainly not to Megatron. Starscream didn't need more things that could be taken away from him. He really didn't.

He didn't imagine all the Autobots in this ship were pleased to have a former Decepticon among them. He had helped them quite a bit since deserting - but what did that matter in the face of eons of war and eons of energon dripping from his claws? Starscream would leave soon, once they landed, once he could find somewhere else to begin anew. It hurt. It really hurt. To have everything he had worked for destroyed yet again. How many times would it continue like this, in this perpetual motion? What would it take to break that cycle?

The rumbling of the engine lulled him into relaxation, at least temporarily. It felt nice on his wings. It felt nice for all the pain and exhaustion to finally melt away, at least as long as he pretended the cold metal was someone else. Someone who cared about him. Someone who loved him, maybe.

A voice snapped Starscream out of his thoughts. "Starscream? Oh, there you are! I was looking everywhere for you," Smokescreen said, who was now... blue?

Starscream looked him up and down. "New alt mode?" The glossy paintjob reminded him of something he really did not want to think about.

Smokescreen nodded. "Optimus got a makeover, I figured I'd give myself one too."

"Atrociously shiny. Although I suppose that would suit you," Starscream said, the edge back in his tone, although he meant it as playful.

"You, um... You left. Are you okay?"

Starscream sighed. His wings drooped a little. "Nothing you should be concerned about. Just talk about something else. I don't need anymore reminders."

"Oh... The Harbinger... You lived there, right? And -"

"Something else."

"Alright, alright, sure! Um... Well, Ultra Magnus is here now and he's a bit... intense. And also weirdly obsessed with 'protocol.' Whatever that means. But he's second-in-command now, so I guess we all have to just listen to him. Who does he think he is, though? He just showed up. Sure he saved everyone from the giant monster but - Ugh, he's just annoying sometimes."

"In the grand scheme of things, you also just showed up," Starscream pointed out. Smokescreen had been in stasis for the majority of the war, after all.

"Well, yeah, but - Yeah. Anyways, our base is gone. Just like that. I was just starting to get a feel for it... But I guess Megatron's big evil fortress is scrap now too, so we're even. But they have a ship and we're just stuck depending on the humans - Well, I suppose we have a ship too, just a lot smaller and piloted by Mr. Protocol," Smokescreen said ruefully.

A thought suddenly occurred to Starscream - a very stupid one. Megatron surely had bigger priorities than to scavenge through the wreck (which was even more of a wreck now) of the Harbinger. It was probably empty and unguarded now. He could go, get his things, and groundbridge back as fast as possible. Starscream cringed a little at the thought of not only facing the Autobots but asking them for a groundbridge.

He took his generator out of his subspace and saw that it had enough energon left for a small jump to the Harbinger and back. "Thinking face," Smokescreen commented. "Scheming, more like. What's the plan? And what's it for?"

"The Harbinger," Starscream said. "That fragger is probably through with it now. I just need to go back, get my scrap, and get out. Simple, but it's probably going to end up blowing up in my face."

"You, er... I don't think..."

"No one here is my Commander. I don't have any Autobots I need to suck up to. Just comm me the coordinates of the ship once I'm done."

Smokescreen looked worried. "Don't you think it might be guarded? It's the last place we all regrouped. I'll go with you!"

Starscream shook his helm. Not only did he not want Smokescreen in danger, but he definitely didn't want him to see that datapad with the pictures on it. This was his task and his alone, and it was simple enough that nothing should go too horribly wrong. "This is none of your business. It's mine and I fully intend to get it done myself."

"Just think of me as along for the ride, then. I need to get off this stuffy ship anyway."

Admitting defeat, he plugged in the coordinates for the Harbinger and stepped through. This was definitely one of his worse ideas. Still, what would anyone want to do with the rusted wreck of a crashed ship?

After a moment, Smokescreen stepped out onto yellow sand and a windswept desert. Starscream looked the Harbinger up and down, and his spark sank. The frame stood mostly still, but it was clearly cracked and falling apart, with scorch marks from blaster fire. He walked along its side for a few kliks and finally found the hole he had broken in the window. Starscream slipped through easily, and Smokescreen followed with a little more difficulty.

Jagged, broken glass scraped painfully against him. When Starscream landed safely back on his pedes, he wasn't even sure what he was looking at.

The room - his room - was a mess. Everything made of metal had been blasted to little sharp, twisted pieces. It was practically unrecognizable from the last time Starscream had been there. His spark pounded in its chamber. No... No.

It had been the one place that had been his own.

The one place he had been safe.

The one place where he had finally had something.

The one place where he had had choice.

The one place where he had been free.

And now, it, too, was just pieces of metal and glass.

Starscream turned around and bent down to find several broken pieces of what was unmistakably a datapad. He scooped up the pieces, staring at them. There was no way to repair it, and even if he could, the data on it was lost forever. There was no place else those files were stored. Starscream trusted nothing and no one enough to surrender the last pieces of his past. His last connections to Skywarp and Thundercracker and Skyfire.

The last thing linking him to a time where he had been happy, safe, loved. The last images of the only mechs who had ever, truly cared for him. The only things he had left of them other than memories.

And it was gone.

For good.

Forever.

Chapter Text

i.

Starscream truthfully had nowhere to go. The Harbinger was all but a broken wreckage and nothing lay there but torn apart memories and the lingering thought of what he had tried to build for himself. It was too dangerous to venture out into the world himself, now that he was surely Public Enemy Number... something (the Decepticons had a lot of enemies) on the Nemesis. Thus, Starscream's only choice for food, shelter, and safety remained the Autobots.

He was lucky to have been able to groundbridge back to the ship before it landed. Unfortunately, they were not lucky enough for their absence to go unnoticed. Ultra Magnus gave Smokescreen a firm lecture, but Starscream not technically being an Autobot and not technically being under his command, he could do nothing about. Starscream knew that he was not welcome here, nor did anyone particularly want him here, with the possible exception of Smokescreen, but he had no choice and nowhere else to go, so he did his best to make himself go unnoticed.

Between the new threat of the Predacons and Shockwave, dealing with the fallout of Megatron having nearly vaporized all of human civilization, and trying to adjust to a new base, Optimus had his servos full. He had, however, found the time to come tell Starscream some sappy scrap about how he was always welcome here and that he had certainly earned his right to a safe place here. Starscream remained unconvinced. The Prime somehow managed to see the best in every mech, even him, when he knew that there was nothing good to see. Optimus may have been welcoming, but it was more than clear to him that if throwing him out was an option, it would have been done already.

He couldn't say he personally liked any of the Autobots, but Starscream knew full well that letting him stay here for the time being was a choice that they could change their mind on at any point. So out of respect for the one place where they could be comfortable and relaxed - between constantly staying in vehicle mode within the sights of humans and patrols, scouting, and missions, it was a hard, busy life for anyone on any side of the war - Starscream made himself scarce.

He found a room that contained all manner of strange machinery - probably meant for powering the machines slated away for the use of the humans who now frequented the base. Starscream didn't know what any of it was, but it produced a vibration similar to the Nemesis's engines, so he was content. He made this his room, more or less, though he had absolutely nothing to his designation to put in it.

Someone left a cube outside of the door every morning and did not knock or otherwise disturb him. Starscream imagined that someone - probably Optimus - had told them to leave him be. At least he had earned that much.

It was something of a sad, lonely existence, but Starscream, nonetheless, was grateful for what he still did have. A warm, dry place to recharge, energon, and protection. And no Megatron.

He tried to convince himself that he deserved even that much.

ii.

Eventually, Starscream figured that he would outlive his usefulness. There was no reason to waste their energon keeping him online if he had nothing to offer the Autobots. And he needed to take a flight anyway. He was starting to feel twitchy and restless already. Starscream gathered his courage, stepped outside the room for the first time in a cycle or two, and crept down the hall. He was greeted with not Optimus, as he had been hoping, but instead with Ultra Magnus. It was then when he checked his chronometer and realized that it was very, very early in the morning and everyone was still in recharge. His recharge cycles had become splendidly fragged.

After several kliks of very awkward silence and a few more kliks of very awkward conversation, Starscream was shoved into the patrol schedule. That was how he found himself with the early morning patrols no one else was willing to take, scouting for energon as well as for Decepticon troops. Such patrols were usually very uneventful. Starscream knew the schedule the Nemesis operated on, and their patrols and main activity did not start until several joors into the morning.

He was still anxious outside, but it was beginning to get better. The only place he really felt safe was the small room he had found, with the rumbling of the engine stroking his wings. 

But Starscream was useful now, so at least for now, he could remain here in this relative peace and safety.

iii.

He really did not know what he was thinking. Starscream had been scrolling through the commlinks on his HUD, closing off every single Decepticon one. It was more housekeeping than anything; he had blocked his comm to Decepticon frequencies a long time ago. He came upon the last one - Knockout. Almost instantly, his wings drooped.

He considered sending a number of things. 

Starscream to Knockout

Are you okay?

I'm sorry about Breakdown

I'm sorry

I'm safe

I'm with the Autobots

I'm sorry

I'm sorry

Starscream did not send any of them.

iv.

The next morning, Starscream miscalculated when his cube would be delivered. In his defense, he had flown too far the day before chasing a faint energon signature, only to discover an abandoned Decepticon mine, and his fuel tank was feeling painfully empty. Therefore, he ran nearly directly into Arcee, who seemed to be on delivery duty that particular morning. Truthfully, Starscream didn't know who was leaving him his energon, nor did he care, as long as it kept coming.

The smart thing to do what have been to take his cube, slam the door shut, and not come out until the same time the next day. However, his spark got the better of his processor. "I'm sorry," he said, the words clawing themselves out of his throat. "For - about - for - Cliffjumper."

Blue optics met red ones. 

Silence piled onto silence piled onto tension piled onto tension piled onto pain.

Chapter Text

i.

I will never be happy.

This is the thought that first came to him after Skyfire was gone. And then again when his trine was gone. And then again and again after each and every time darkness would claw at the edges of his vision and the pain would be washed away by the cool tides of unconsciousness. Courtesy of Megatron of course. And that is what Starscream thought in the worst moments of his self-imposed exile, thinking of how far he had fallen and of where he had lost it all.

It was what part of him thought to himself, even now. By all accounts, Starscream had lost everything. His material things, the few he had anyway. His dream of Cybertron and Vos rising again. His trine. His partner. His rank. His cause. There was nothing left for him anymore, not in this life, at least.

And that was what Starscream thought to himself now, as the rumble of a cold, uncaring engine lulled him into recharge.

ii.

Starscream had royally fragged up. It was supposed to be a typical morning patrol for him - scout out the energon signatures he was picking up and come home with - well, results. In order to stay alive and stay in the only place in the universe where he was safe, Starscream had to keep the Autobots convinced of his continued use. He was well aware that they had no reason to keep him online if he didn't.

He had a lot of skills. For one, he was the only one here who could fly and cover twice the amount of distance twice as fast as a grounder. And Starscream's energon seeker coding was still printed within him somewhere deep and hidden. Now, in a human fortification, separated from the ruins of their old base, energon was needed more than ever. It was his way of staying in the former-enemy faction's good graces, as well as his way of keeping himself alive.

But this morning was different. Starscream had taken his usual route, but had strayed a great deal further, chasing a faint but still perceptible energon signature. It hadn't taken him long to locate it - to locate a Decepticon mine, that was. He wasn't fast enough to get the hell out of there and request a groundbridge back to the base. It was a blur of blaster fire and streaks of smoke and his desperate twists and turns and spins as Starscream tried to outmaneuver the Vehicons. He didn't even remember most of it.

In any case, he had flown through the groundbridge before anything drastic could happen and by all accounts, he was... safe. But Starscream had failed. He had almost gotten himself captured - he knew that the Vehicons had been shooting to injure, not offline. And he knew the location of the new Autobot base and half a dozen other secrets that would win the Decepticons the war immediately. Not only that, but if he had been even slightly slower into the groundbridge, he would have lead the directly into the base.

So he had failed.

And that was terrifying.

Starscream sat against the engine room with his knees drawn up to his cockpit, arms looped around them, resting his helm against the cool metal of his own frame. This was it, then. It wouldn't take long for whatever Prime deemed fit as a punishment to arrive. He had failed and now he was going to pay the price. Starscream knew how it went. He had come to expect the routine, the cycle.

He just felt miserable and very, very alone. He had nothing, and it certainly felt that way.

. . .

No one came for the rest of the day. Starscream was too wired up to even consider recharge, so he stayed sitting there, feeling the faint roar of the engines against his wings, biting back quiet sobs. Every part of his frame had started to ache again and his pain and misery hung over him like a heavy early morning mist. The hours slipped by and still no one came. Part of him wanted to waltz out the door, transform, and fly as far away as he could as fast as he could. But he remained there, rooted in place, scared and confused.

By the time morning came, he was shaking. The usual time for energon came and went and Starscream heard no pedesteps outside. Oh. So this was to be his punishment. Not too bad. His tank was at about 25% - uncomfortably low and enough to make his fuel tank start to ache and cramp up with hunger, certainly, but not enough to push him into stasis. Starscream had faced worse from Megatron. This was practically nothing. He would be fine. He would live.

Less than a joor later, there was a knock at the door. Starscream practically leapt out of his armor at the sudden, sharp sound. He had to remind himself to vent. He tried to say something - anything - but the pounding of his spark and the ache in his fuel tank had somehow gotten to his vocalizer, and nothing came out. Starscream reached out and found the open commlink of - Prime. Oh, frag.

Come in, he sent, claws curling into anxious fists.

The door opened and in walked Prime, holding a cube of energon, blue optics fixed on Starscream. He flinched back instinctively, wings drooping. "I'm - I'm sorry -" he sputtered. "It - it was a mistake - an accident - I'll - I'll do better next time!"

His panic escaped his mouth in short, gasping breaths and short, gasping words. His optics felt like they were burning with coolant. He had been calm and composed just a few nano-kliks ago but now he felt as if he would fall apart under that cool blue gaze. Prime noticed. He set the cube carefully on the ground and bent down to Starscream's level, who flinched back again. "What happened yesterday" - an entire cycle had passed, right, Starscream had lost track somewhere between his exhaustion and his terror - "was not your fault," Prime said calmly. "I will not hold you accountable for things that are out of your control, nor will anyone here."

...What? "But... I..."

Starscream looked up, ruby optics meeting concerned cobalt ones. "I am not going to hurt you. No one will." 

They sat in silence for a long while, until Starscream regained enough control over himself for his vents to return to normal. He turned his gaze toward the cube laying on the ground. Energon. His fuel tank cramped up again but he ignored it. No matter what Prime said, part of him knew he had to be punished for his mistake, for his miscalculation, for even the sheer chance that something could have gone wrong.

He didn't deserve fuel. He really did not. "Give the energon to someone who actually deserves it," he whispered, voice coming out quiet and muffled. "I - I - I messed up."

Starscream didn't tilt his helm to look but he could feel the shock and horror radiating off Optimus. "Starscream..." he began sadly. "If I have not made myself clear before, you will not be harmed or mistreated here for events that you had no control over. You deserve to live and you deserve to be happy and you deserve energon."

Silence.

His wings drooped even lower and Starscream, for the life of him, really had trouble believing Optimus's words.

iii.

Starscream woke with a start. His spark was pounding, vents fast and anxious. He glanced around, seeing the dark of the engine room. Starscream was at the Autobot base, far from Decepticon servos, and safe. He was safe. He was online. He was alright.

For once, it hadn't been about Megatron. It had been the recurring nightmare Starscream had had for more vorns that he could count. It all started the way it always did - him, Skyfire, and an endless expanse of ice under them. And it ended the way it always did - him, and an endless expanse of ice under him. It left Starscream gasping and screaming and begging, pleading to Primus to make things go differently this time, when he already knew how it ended. How it always did.

With Skyfire alone because Starscream hadn't saved him.

He couldn't go back into recharge. He was too anxious, too wired up, and in too much pain. The door clicked open quietly and Starscream stepped outside. He walked down the hallway leading up to the main area of the base, unsure of where he was going or of what he was looking for. Starscream saw a dark, slender shape up ahead - Arcee. His spark sank and he was about to turn to go back and make a hasty retreat while he still could when one heel strut came down heavier than he had expected.

Arcee whipped around, blasters ready to fire out of habit. Starscream jumped back, letting out a hiss of surprise. Seeing him, she lowered her weapons. though not without a measure of reluctance. "Couldn't, erm, recharge?" he started, uncomfortable with the silence. He cringed immediately. What was there even to say to her? There was sure to be a gaping hole in Arcee's life and in her spark and that was because of Starscream. She had lost her Skyfire because of him. And that was that.

"Nightmare," she replied curtly. "About your doing." Her poisonous tone suggested that she was not ready to forgive or forget.

"We... we may be more similar than you realize in that regard," Starscream said. He cringed again.

"You wouldn't understand. What it's like to lose someone, just like that. And to have their murderer strutting around, a free mech."

Starscream flinched, barely visible in the darkness. But he said nothing to deny that. Her every word was very true. Starscream had killed Cliffjumper and in return, he got free reign of the Autobot base and safety and energon. He didn't deserve that. He didn't deserve anything.

Against his better judgement, Starscream spoke again. "I... I do. Better than you may realize. You're not the only one who's lost someone," he said.

The silence between them dragged on, as anxious and foreboding as the darkness that blanketed them. "...Does it ever stop hurting?"

He gave a soft, bitter huff of laughter. How many vorns had it been? Skyfire had offlined long before the war had even started and here Starscream was, still trapped in the past, still wondering what would have happened if he had turned around and flown back into that storm.

"No."

Chapter Text

The base was hectic with energy. Nearly all of the Autobots were out hunting for one Predacon bone or the other, hoping to get them out of Decepticon servos before they could make even more of those mindless brutes. Ugh. Yet another contender for the one place where Starscream could win - the sky. He had seen the creature and he had seen how it could toss them all around like ragdolls - more of them would be a death sentence. And who was to say they wouldn't turn on their Decepticon masters, either? The things seemed to be unpredictable.

Smokescreen had dragged Starscream out of the engine room, but more vorns of war than not could not be undone so easily, even with his recent actions which, dare he say, were almost heroic. So instead, Starscream got a cube of energon from the dispenser and stood awkwardly in the doorway, sipping it, halfway belonging and halfway not. Every Autobot except Ratchet was gone - being kept very busy, clearly. Seeing as the only reason he had come here in the first place was gone, Starscream saw no point in sticking around to socialize with the standoffish medic or the fleshy little humans.

Still, he watched as Agent Fowler - right, the one who had so righteously decided to sacrifice himself - flirted (?) with the creator of one of Autobot's little human friends. Arcee's, if he recalled correctly. Starscream could really not care less about the extracurricular activities of the humans, but some part of him felt a stab of jealousy at seeing love blooming so freely and casually and naturally, when he knew that that was not something he would find ever again. He had found the one mech who had completed him, who had understood him, who had been his other half... and he had lost him. That was that.

"I found a Predacon talon," the smallest human - Raf - said, typing away at his primitive little datapad. "In a museum! Scientists were totally stumped when they excavated it in 1922. So it's been in storage."

"But we're fresh out of beast hunters," Jack said.

Ratchet groaned, looking up. "I didn't choose emergency as my vehicle mode for laughs."

Fowler clasped his hands awkwardly behind his back. "Not sure you need a bot."

Jack's creator - June? Was that her designation? - interjected, "Maybe we should just wait for Optimus."

"I'll have you know, Nurse Darby, I was an army ranger and a federal agent for three decades before I even heard the name Optimus Prime. I'm more than equipped to handle a... milk run. In fact... why don't you tag along?"

"Oh... I don't know about that."

"No, absolutely not," Jack cut in. "Mom, I don't want you anywhere near anything 'Con. It's not -"

"...Safe? Is my teenage son seriously going to tell me it's okay for him to travel all the way to Cybertron but his mother can't be trusted to go on a..."

"Milk run." 

"No, it's just, uh - You're lactose intolerant and I -"

Starscream felt the urge to purge his tanks. Ugh, humans and their silly notions of love and even sillier courting rituals. He chose that moment to step out of the shadows in what he hoped was a dramatic reveal, but probably in reality just seemed horrifically awkward. "In case you humans have forgotten, I'm still here and I am more than capable of... oh, what did you call it, a little milk run," he drawled.

Five human heads snapped toward him. He rolled his optics. "Surprised to see me?" They probably were. Despite quite literally living here, Starscream tended to stay curled up in the same corner, staring blankly at the wall.

"Does no one remember all that I've done for you lot?" he asked in faux-hurt when he was met with complete and total silence. In reality he really just wanted to get out of this stuffy human base and into the air, even if it meant tangling with his old faction.

The adult humans glanced at each other. "He has helped us," Jack pointed out. "Besides, it's not like there's anyone else around."

June and Fowler shot distrustful glances at him but everyone seemed to realize that this was their safest option. It should be a quick job - groundbridge in, groundbridge out, while the Decepticons were preoccupied with the rest of the Autobots. Nothing too strenuous, at least not for Starscream. He really wouldn't have trusted himself in the human's place, nor did he blame them for this mistrust of him, but regardless, he soon found himself walking through the groundbridge alongside the two humans. He would have preferred to go alone, but he supposed they didn't trust him not to run off back to the Decepticons.

On the other side of the groundbridge, there was an unassuming human structure and an empty... what were those things called again? Parking lots? Starscream stayed behind, leaning on a streetlight, while the two humans took their merry time inside. While he didn't trust them with something as important and fragile as a Predacon bone, gigantic robots inside painfully small human structures were prone to leaving very visible trails of destruction.

Oh, they were taking their sweet time?

At long last, June and Fowler exited the door, holding a wooden crate that looked to contain the bone, laughing and talking to each other. Once again, it was very stupid to be jealous of such primitive life forms but he... was. Why did they get to flirt and laugh and fall in love? Why did they get to do that when he was still stuck on a mech who had offlined before this wretched war even began? And what did Starscream do to deserve a perpetually broken spark? This... this eternal ache knowing that the only one he could ever and would ever love was gone forever. How could he even begin to cope with that?

Ah, the same questions he had been asking himself for vorns. As per usual, no answers revealed themselves.

All of a sudden, two bright white headlights blinded Starscream's optics. He snapped back to attention, missiles drawn to fire and - Red. Cherry red. The sleek, gorgeous sports car stopped in front of the two humans and out of it came that infuriatingly smooth voice, "I have a bone to pick with both of you."

"Decided to crash the party, Knockout?" Starscream sneered. One flick of his digits and he would blow Knockout all the way back to the Nemesis.

"Oh, splendid! Just the mech I wanted to see."

But there was nothing Starscream could do. If he launched a missile or shot at Knockout, there was a strong chance that he would end up injuring the humans or breaking the Predacon bone. A large blaster transformed itself out of the Decepticon's side. By the time his missile reached him, the two humans would be dead and the bone would be long gone. A stalemate. 

"So Megatron has you doing his dirty work now?" Better to get him talking. There was nothing Knockout loved more than the sound of his own voice.

"And the Autobots have you doing their dirty work? Come now, Starscream, I'm not sure you can tell me anything about getting the job done."

A blast shot from the blaster, too fast for Starscream to even thinking about deploying a missile. It was blindingly bright and he had to shield his optics lest he be blinded for several more kliks. By the time the light cleared - No!

The two humans were gone, as was the bone, and Knockout, still in vehicle form, was streaking away merrily. 

Starscream let out a growl of frustration. Could nothing go his way? Not even once? He transformed and leapt into the air, giving chase. He was faster than any ground-based vehicle, but Knockout had a significant headstart and he could not fire for fear of hitting the humans. Hold on. When had Starscream even cared about that? Once upon a time, he would have gladly given them up as collateral damage. Curse his moral compass!

Knockout was driving down one of those long, open human roads, tires cutting smoothly over the dark asphalt of the road. Starscream's thrusters spit fire as he urged his engine to churn even harder, for his slender frame to push through the air even faster. He had to get Knockout to transform back - otherwise, he ran the risk of hitting the humans or the talon - or both, in one fell swoop.

He swooped down lower, keeping the cherry car in his sights at all times. Two pale lines of smoke, dark against the navy blue sky, were left in his wake and nothing else. Knockout still hadn't disappeared into a groundbridge, which Starscream was pleasantly surprised by. Perhaps the communications were down. Maybe courtesy of that Predacon taking a step in the wrong direction.

But for now, there was nothing Starscream could do but keep pace with Knockout, which he accomplished quite easily. He soared overhead, within sight and within reach. He had several perfect shots lined up but he couldn't. Starscream just couldn't risk it, and that frustrated him to no end.

Suddenly, Knockout began to swerve wildly on the road, taking a sudden turn right to what looked to be a human storage area, filled with those boxes they were so fond of, piled onto a number of trains. He was the smoothest driver Starscream knew, and of course he wouldn't risk that stupidly shiny paintjob. Which meant - the humans!

They must have managed to find some way to wrestle control back. Maybe they deserved a little more credit that he was giving them.

Starscream pushed himself forward, overtaking Knockout. He did a roll in midair, changing his direction, and hovered, waiting for the other mech. And then - and then he would do what? Shoot? He didn't trust his aim enough to -

Knockout came to a complete stop several feet in front of Starscream. To his surprise, the two humans burst out of his side doors, one carrying the wooden crate with the bone in it. Knockout transformed immediately. Before he had even managed to transform, before his pedes had hit the ground, the other mech had already scooped one of the humans up in one servo. "And by grand, I meant totally stupid," he snarled, examining the human.

Starscream felt a rush of coldness. "Put the human down," he said.

"Oh? Last time I checked, you weren't my superior anymore, Starscream - or should I say, former Commander," Knockout snapped, servo still clenched against the delicate, fleshy body of the human. 

He gritted his dentae. Fowler looked as if he had a trick up his sleeve - Starscream would simply have to distract the other mech long enough for that to happen. If it did. If not, he was fragged. "Leaving was the best choice I ever made," he retorted.

"Proud of being a deserter and a coward now, are we? You know, Starscream, at this point, I wouldn't put anything past you."

"I had to leave! You know what he was doing to me. You know he would have killed me. And you know -"

There was a flash of something in those scarlet optics. Guilt? Acknowledgement? Worry? Or was Starscream deluding himself into thinking that the medic actually cared? Of course he wouldn't give a scrap. Who would, about him?

Fowler brought up a small can of something and clicked down on it. A spray of liquid splashed itself directly into Knockout's optics. He dropped Fowler immediately, who rolled, stumbling back to his feet. For a moment, he clawed at his optics, seemingly... blinded?

"Get the bone somewhere safe," Starscream hissed. "I'll deal with... him."

Fowler didn't need to be asked twice. He ran immediately, darting to hide behind the tall storage crates. Starscream couldn't see June, but he certainly hoped to Primus that she had the foresight to hide the bone until they could get a groundbridge back.

Starscream had tried words and clearly Knockout was not going to listen. With the humans and the bone safely out of the way...

Knockout shot first. Starscream jerked himself to the side, letting the blast fly past him. He transformed one servo into a blaster and rushed forward, returning fire. Fighting on the ground was not and never would be his strong suit. They matched each other practically blow for blow. Starscream jumped back, avoiding a blast of energon and then stepped to the right to avoid Knockout's spinning blade.

He jumped upwards onto one of the metal crates. The high ground helped him a little - he aimed his shots downward, pleased to see them landing better. Knockout let out a growl of frustration, glancing around, searching for the humans. When he found nothing, he leapt onto the same crate Starscream was on - higher ground to look for the humans better. Starscream took the chance to hit him square in the chassis, sending him nearly tumbling over the side of the crate.

He advanced before the other mech could get back on his pedes and - He heard the rev of a spinning blade cutting through the air. Metal cut through metal near his waist. Starscream let out a low groan of pain as his own energon dripped to onto the cold metal surface. He took a step back, unsteady with the sudden pain.

"Well, this has been fun," Knockout remarked, turning toward the edge of the crate. "But I'm afraid I have other commitments. Try not to get too jealous." With that, he leapt over the edge, landing smoothly. Starscream put a servo to the cut near his waist - not too deep. His self-repair could take care of it.

His spark was pounding. He couldn't mess this up. He just couldn't. If the humans got hurt... Starscream's brief moment of hesitation had cost him. By the time he, too, was sliding down the crate, Knockout was nowhere to be seen and neither were either of the humans. No, but - There! It was a little hard to miss a fellow Cybertronian, especially surrounded by tiny human-made cargo.

In one servo, Knockout held Fowler again. No... "Any closer, Starscream, and I'll turn this snappy dresser here into a sloppy stain on the tarmac. And little lady, time to come out with my prize, unless you want me to turn your boyfriend into a squishy little mess."

Starscream had no choice but to stand there, rooted in place, too scared to move even an inch. Any shot he fired would surely hit Fowler instead, and he had no doubts that Knockout wouldn't follow through on his rather morbid words. Suddenly, he heard the grind of train wheels against rusted iron tracks.

One of the trains was moving gradually away, and beside it, out in the open, stood June. "First of all, not my boyfriend," June said, still holding the wooden crate. "Second of all, you're not laying a metal digit on him. Not if you ever want to see your precious talon again."

She smashed the wooden crate on the ground, revealing that it was empty. Not a smart move. In a nano-klik, Knockout had scooped her up in his other servo, watching the two humans struggle with unprecedented delight.

"Leave her alone!"

"I hid it on a train car," June said. "Let us go and I'll tell you which one."

Knockout growled in frustration - the train was rapidly leaving the station. "Try as hard as you want, you can't con a 'Con."

A few nano-kliks later, Knockout was back in vehicle mode, the two humans inside him, tires swerving as he followed the train. Starscream transformed and gave chase - part of him wanted to go get the talon himself but he had no idea what car it might be in, and he wasn't willing to leave the fragile, helpless humans alone. His thrusters spit smoke and fire as he rushed himself onwards, keeping pace with Knockout.

Once again, he was horribly helpless, unable to do anything. Any shot would injure or kill the humans inside.

Starscream heard the whirr of a groundbridge opening behind him. He risked a glance back and saw - Autobots! Wheeljack and Arcee, fresh from their own mission, presumably. They were catching up with Knockout rapidly on the ground - they could handle the humans. He needed to get the talon while they kept Knockout occupied and extracted the humans safely. Decision made, Starscream charged up his engine to go forward and - 

Another groundbridge opened behind him. He didn't have to so much as glance back to recognize the distinctive whirring chirp of those wretched Insecticons. They fired on him immediately. Starscream spun in midair, letting the blasts sail over his wingtips. He dove downwards to keep pace with the train and with Knockout, veering left and right to dodge. He swooped slightly up and then slightly down, occasionally having to press himself at nearly a ninety degree angle.

Knockout slowed a little - had he seen the talon? Behind him, the Autobots were making quick work of the Insecticons but Starscream didn't have time to worry about that. He flew up higher to get a better look at the train cars - but it was nearly impossible to spot the gray talon amidst gray stone in the darkness of night.

Knockout transformed swiftly and leapt upwards for - The train car! Starscream saw the glint of a Predacon talon against the moonlight resting in it. If he gave himself one more push, it would be in his servo - The humans!

In the process of transforming back into robot mode, Knockout had ejected the two humans, who were falling dowards rapidly. The world seemed to become painfully slow. The two Autobots were too far behind, still preoccupied with the Insecticons. if he did nothing, the distance of the fall and the impact of the collision would make the humans become two flesh pancakes. But in order to do something, Starscream had to fall back and catch them, therefore surrendering the talon.

The logical thing to do would have been to let them die and get the bone - less weapons for the Decepticons and more of a chance to end this war. But some part of Starscream -

Before he knew what was happening, he was slowing his engine and dropping back, watching as Knockout's servo closed around the talon and a groundbridge opened in front of him - Soundwave's work, no doubt. Starscream transformed just in time to catch either human in one servo. He landed hard on his heel struts, shakily but in one piece - and with the humans intact and alive.

But he could only watch as the train sped on forward and as Knockout went thorugh his groundbridge, his prize having been delivered to him by Starscream on a silver platter.

He had failed.

Again.

Chapter Text

Starscream had failed. Deeply. Gravely. And every other over-dramatic synonym for severely. He had had one job - take the Predacon talon that had just been laying there and get out. Something that shouldn't have taken more than a breem. And now, Starscream had somehow both lost the talon and endangered the humans. In other words, he had fragged up and he was fragged. The Autobots would...

Out of the three who had left base, who was the easiest to pin the blame on? Him, of course. And he was to blame. When he could have made things go smoothly and perfectly - when he had had a plan - when it could have all gone well -

But it hadn't and there was no one to blame for it but Starscream. He had to make things right. He had to before it was too late and all that awaited him was pain, pain, pain. All of Optimus's words left his processor - he knew that when he failed, he was punished for it. Especially a task of this caliber. And Starscream knew that punishment hurt and he knew that the last thing he wanted was even more pain. So as a groundbridge opened back to Hanger E - their new base - he turned around and took his own generator out of his subspace.

If anyone noticed, they did not question him. Maybe they didn't care enough to bother. Maybe they didn't care enough to turn around and check if he was there. Regardless, he logged the coordinates to the Harbinger and walked through. He felt a stab of pain in his spark chamber as he remembered yet another thing that had been taken away from him. Starscream's home, if it could be called that. And his last memories of a life before, a life where he had been happy, where he could have been happy. All gone. Forever.

But it's systems were probably still online and with the recent flurry of activity to locate more Predacon bones, the Nemesis's location was probably logged onto it's systems. The broken ship loomed up in the distance, dark and twisted. Starscream stepped through the portal and looked it up and down. The signs of the destruction were still clear - pedesteps half-buried in the sand, broken windows, and the scorch marks of blaster fire. He flinched.

Even now, even away, the war and Megatron still took and took from him.

Starscream found the ship's system without too much issue - the datapad was still active and online and it took a few clicks of the buttons until the screen popped back up. He typed in the passwords he had set quickly and found several logged coordinates - the Nemesis and the most recent groundbridges out of it. It was a miracle that the system was still working and transmitting, even after whatever the Decepticons had subjected the poor downed ship too. Starscream logged the coordinates into his groundbridge generator as quickly as he could - he had to move fast.

He knew very well that he was being incredibly stupid - what were the chances of him getting on and off the Nemesis with the Predacon and in one piece? Probably close to none. But Starscream had to make things right. He had to. He could not fail again.

Starscream opened the groundbridge with a quiet whirr and glanced around before stepping into the swirling green and purple, unsure of what to expect. But he had spent far too many vorns on that ship and he knew it inside and out. He would just have to be careful and try not to let it go as south as his previous excursions back to his former ship. Starscream found himself inside - was it a hangar bay?

It was the bay that they didn't use any longer - back when the Decepticons had had the full military might of Vos behind them, there had been so many seekers aboard ships like the Nemesis that two or three landing docks were required, and the ship had been constructed as such. Nowadays, one hangar was more than enough for the Vehicons that did possess flight frames. The coordinates were not exact and ships being ships, they were always on the move. It was a miracle that Starscream had even bridged back onto solid ground.

He ducked behind the first solid structure he could find - a pile of metal crates. He glanced around. It was dark in hanger and the only light source was a few flickering lights on the ceiling. Starscream could spot no other bots - good. But what he did spot was - No! The dark, spiked, unmistakable shape of the Predacon loomed over him, yellow eyes wide and bright, wings spread open, manibles open.

Starscream's wings fell immediately in fear and he took a few steps back, wings colliding with the other side of the hanger. Out of all the places he could have bridged onto on the Nemesis, it just had to be the Predacon's little den. He expected the thing to attack him immediately, but instead, it just stood there, teeth bared, although it made no move to attack him. Starscream took another step back, but there was nowhere to go. Trapped.

No, no, no, no. The hanger was suddenly too small, too tight, the ceiling too low. He was going to die here in the darkness, away from the sky, away from it all - He was - He was going too -

Starscream forced his vents back to normal and looked back up to stare back into the Predacon's sickly yellow eyes. It just... stood there. Perhaps the beast wasn't predestined to violence after all. Starscream considered it - perhaps it had been trained only on the energon of the Autobots, which didn't include him. A thought occurred to him, cutting through his raw, hazy panic. "The hanger bay's door is about three feet thick," he said, his voice coming out jagged and a little shaky. "You could tear through it like tissue paper and simply... leave. To go wherever on this wretched planet you wish. And yet you stay. Why?"

Starscream was not stupid enough to think that it would respond to him. The Predacon was merely an animal, with no abilities to understand him and certainly with none to reply. But it saddened him a little. "In the stories, Predacons were... well, predators. It's in the name. They bowed to nothing and to no one," he continued, unsure why he was vocalizing his thoughts. "Until they went extinct, that was. You could run now and be free. And yet you stay and serve him. You could leave and you do not. Why?"

The creature continued to stare at him, cold and silent. Of course it didn't understand his hapless musings. But Starscream knew why. He knew why one who could run chose not to. He knew the power of chains that were all but mental. He knew the power of that cursed cycle that he could not break and perhaps never would. And it was pitiful that he was so starved of connection that he sympathized with a mindless animal that would probably gladly snap him in half.

"I'll, just... I'll be going."

Starscream turned his back to the Predacon, which was not a smart choice. His servo found the button that opened the door and pressed down on it. Thankfully, it snapped open immediately, revealing the familiar dark, stark interior of the Nemesis. He stepped out cautiously into it and pressed the button again, shutting the door. Starscream dared to turn and found nothing behind him - no raging Predacon trying to squeeze back through the entrance. And no bursts of fire either.

It had... It had let him go. Why? How? Starscream had assumed that violence was its base instinct, but perhaps it was more intelligent than he gave it credit for. That was certainly the case with the humans. Whatever the case, he felt a little weak with relief, but that had only been step one. Now that he was alive and on the Nemesis, he had to figure out where the talon actually was - storage, most likely, with all the other relics. Starscream had no idea where that might be, but he began to creep down the hallway slowly, pedesteps as quiet as he could make them.

Energon storage was always under heavy guard - perhaps the relics would be stored close to there. Starscream made a turn into another hallway, one that he recognized, and walked down it slowly, thankfully being met with no further resistance. He stopped in front of a random door, which felt right. He would either be met with his prize, or be met with dozens of blasters pointed directly at him. Well, Starscream could hardly say that he had a particular reason to live, so both would have been alright with him.

He pressed the button on the side that opened the door and looked inside and saw a small lab with... Oh, frag it! It was Knockout, paintjob as smooth and shiny as ever, back turned to him, bent over... Was that Breakdown?! Or what was left of him, anyway - Smokescreen had told him of how MECH had stuffed their fleshy little leader into Breakdown's corpse, reanimating it into some sort of horrific avatar for their nearly-dead leader. Primus, and he had thought that Shockwave was bad with the horrific experiments. He was strapped to the medical berth with stasis cuffs, plating scuffed and cracking. As Starscream watched, his presence still unknown, Knockout injected a vial of something green and something purple -

"Dark energon?!" he sputtered.

Knockout whipped around. "Starscream?!" he demanded, cherry optics going wide. "What the frag are you doing here now?"

"I could ask the same thing! What are you doing to that poor human anyway?"

"I'll tell you and you tell me one reason why I shouldn't sound the alarm now and send good old Megatron running?"

"I'm not here to start anything," Starscream snapped, trying to think of a convenient excuse. "Can't a mech visit his old... ship?"

"Don't lie for once, Starscream, if you're capable of it."

"I'm here for the Preadcon talon," he finally admitted.

Knockout laughed. "Oh Primus, think, for once in your life. It's gone already, to Shockwave's conveninetly off-site laboratory. And they'll tear you from limb to limb the moment you groundbridge there," Knockout said. 

Starscream felt a sinking feeling in his chassis. There was no way that he could go up against Shockwave's probably very well guarded lab, or against Shockwave himself. He had failed, yet again, and to make matters worse, he was now on the enemy ship, helpless and alone. But... Knockout was here, in front of him, right now. And would he leave again? Would he run again? Or would Starscream make things right between them before it was too late?

"Alright, alright, I'll tell you, because you asked so nicely. Lord Megatron wants even more processor-dead super soldiers, apparently, so he gave me authorization to do whatever the hell I wanted to dear Silas over here," Knockout said flippantly.

"Starscream!" a disjointed, vaguely organic, vaguely mechanical voice hissed from inside Breakdown's dead body. "Help me! Please!'

Breakdown's death was one thing; the desecration of his corpse was another. "What are you doing to him?"

"Oh, anything that merits a living petri dish," he explained. "In this case, trying to forge a bond between him and the dark energon within Lord Megatron."

"Despite your justifiable lack of regard for the human side, does it not bother you to watch what remains of your former partner your... scientific endeavours?" Starscream questioned, optics raking over Silas with a wince.

Knockout hesitated, glancing between the cracked corpse of his own partner and Starscream. He let out a frustrated hiss. "Of course it does," he snapped. "It's not like I like this, torturing the reanimated corpse of my best friend and knowing that all that is inside is half of a mangled, fleshy little human. Of course I don't. May as well spit on Breakdown's grave while we're at it, I suppose! I don't enjoy knowing that this was what became of him after Airachnid butchered him - Starscream, of course it bothers me."

Starscream watched Knockout and realized just then the horror of what was before him. And to make Knockout make Silas-inside-Breakdown's-corpse into some sort of dark energon infused super soldier... Another tarnishing of the dead mech's memory, if that was even possible. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I'm sorry that he makes you do this. I'm sorry. You don't deserve this and neither does - did - Breakdown."

"At least you're genuine for once. DIdn't know when I'd see that cycle."

Suddenly, Silas began to rise, yanking one servo out of the stasis cuffs as if they were made of tissue paper. And the other - which sliced through the air, shoving Starscream square across the room. "Scrap!"

It - Starscream refused to personify whatever it is Knockout had just created - freed both pedes and then rose off the berth, it's movements strangely disjointed and shaky. But it fell to its pedes after just a few steps. "It's a side effect of the synth-en," Knockout said. "It's burned through its natural energon reserves." 

It tilted it's head up to reveal glowing purple optics, one of them still torn and mangled from what MECH had first did to Breakdown. "Need... energon..." It opened it's mouth to reveal a sickening contraption of cables and wires into some sort of horrific tongue.

Starscream jumped back in horror and exchanged equally shocked glances with Knockout. "Did you know this would happen?" he demanded, inching toward the exit.

"Well, of course not!"

It advanced, closer and closer. Starscream backed away as fast as he could - but evidently, not fast enough. The monstrosity gripped both of his shoulder struts, forked metal tongue darting out, ready to suck his energon out. He tilted his helm away, offlining his optics. Was this really how it ended?! At the servos of Breakdown-turned-Silas-turned-whatever-the-pit-this thing was?!

It jolted backwards rapidly as fast as it had advanced, frame lighting up with electricity. Starscream onlined his optics to find Knockout electrocuting it with his prod. The electricity subsided after af few nano-kilks but it reared it's helm up again, tongue flicking in and out like a snake. He took several rapid steps back toward the door, joined by the cherry mech. "Do you think he's actually trying to -"

"Suck out our energon with that thing? Sure seems that way!"

It snatched the prod right out of Knockout's servos and snapped it in half like a twig. The two glanced at each other, neither needing to be told twice. Starscream slammed the door open and they bolted down the Nemesis's empty hallways, followed by whatever the frag Knockout had just managed to create. "What were you thinking?" he gasped. 

"I wasn't! Lord Megatron's orders and that was the best I could think of!"

"Turning SIlas into some sort of dark energon creation?! Really?"

It's lumbering pedesteps grew even closer. Starscream cursed in several different languages. "Transform and run," he yelled, transforming into alt mode as fast as he could. A heavy weight slammed into his side - Knockout.

"I said transform, not cling onto me!"

"In case you haven't noticed, a jet goes faster than a car," Knockout said.

They streaked down the hallway rapidly, Starscream set off balance by the other mech's weight. They collided with the wall several times and the lack of any paintjob-related comments let Starscream knew that Knockout was just as scared as he was. Once they were what he deemed a safe distance away, he transformed back, throwing Knockout back several paces. They both stumbled to their pedes, catching their vents.

"We need to sound the alarm."

"In case you've forgotten, one of us is a fugitive," Starscream snapped.

"Maybe I should just turn you in!"

"I saved your life!"

"And I saved yours first!"

They continued down the hallway in tense silence - but purely because of the threat of Silas. Starscream got the sense that Knockout didn't really plan on doing anything to him, which was... strange. Why? All he had done was leave, and even before that, had he ever been anything but hostile toward the only mech aboard the Primus-damned ship who actually gave a scrap about him? Sure, it was his job as medic to fix Starscream, but he still did, and he still... He was...

They turned a corner and Starscream let out a startled gasp at what he saw. A Vehicon frame, laying still and lifeless against the harsh metal tiles. Knockout leaned forward and examined the frame. "Gone," he reported grimly. "Completely drained of energon."

"We are scrap," Starscream said. "Me more than you, if anyone finds me here..."

"And when Megatron finds out who's responsible for this sweet little fiasco? He'll have my helm!"

"You were the one who decided to dabble in dark magic! You know what it did to Megatron and now it's spreading across this entire fragging ship!"

"So we're both scrap," Knockout concluded. "Splendid."

Starscream heard a clicking coming from behind him. He turned slowly, as did Knockout. The Vehicon corpse had risen in that same jerky, unsteady motion. "Energon," it gasped, faceplates opening to reveal another one of those forked metal tongues.

They both let out a gasp, backing away rapidly. "I thought you said he had no spark," Starscream protested.

"Dark energon! It reanimates the dead," Knockout replied, optics trained on the advancing... thing.

"Your genius never fails to astound me, Knockout. Did you not think any of this through?!"

He transformed one servo into a blaster and took several shots at the Vehicon, to no avail whatsoever. "Aim the the head!"

"What? How do you know?"

"I have seen human horror films," Knockout said, both servos transformed into spinning blades.

Starscream gave him a strange look. Knockout's love for human culture was... strangely endearing. On any other mech, Starscream would have found it repulsive but - "At drive-in theaters," Knockout protested.

He flicked two digits and sent one of his missiles flying directly into the fragging thing. A boom! echoed through the tight hallway. When the smoke cleared, instead of the corpse laying dead and still on the ground, as it should, it's helm had been blown clean off. But that fragging tongue remained outwards, and the decapitated frame continued to move of it's own accord.

"Forget the head, aim for the spark!" Starscream said. He took several more shots and blasted a hole clean through the chestplate. This time, the Vehicon fell backwards, and stayed dead.

"Human horror films, waste of time," Knockout muttered as they leaned over to examine the corpse.

"If the mutation can be passed along with a single bite, the entire crew is at risk," he said as the two continued down the hallway.

"You're saying that Silas could make more terrorcons?"

"...Could happen. And the ensuing feeding frenzy could turn this entire warship into a scrap heap..."

Up ahead, there was a group of Vehicons. Before Starscream could even transform his servo back into a blaster, they turned around, forked tongues hanging out, stumbling toward the two mechs on unsteady pedes. His wings fell in fear and he didn't even have to think before he was grabbing Knockout's arm and dragging him back the way they had come. Down this hallway and... More Terrorcons!

Starscream practically squealed and he glanced around wildly. Terrorcons behind them and in front of them. Nowhere to go! Was this it, then? Was it - There! There was a small control room off to the side. He made a run for it and Knockout followed, diving in before the door locked shut.

. . .

The two of them leaned against the wall, listening to the groans and clicks of the Terrorcons outside. "Knockout, this situation might be a bit more dire than either of us could have imagined."

"Hmm. I find it rather ironic that after battling Autobots all these vorns, getting smacked down, shot at, blown up... This is how our lights go out?"

"...Drained of our precious fluids."

The silence between them stretched on. Starscream found the possibility of his own termination to be imminent. So this was how it ended. Not... not the worst way things could end. But he still... He hadn't made things right yet. The Predacon talon was far, far out of reach. Cybertron was not springing back to life any time soon. But there was one thing he could fix, in the kliks of life that he still had.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly.

"What?!"

Starscream ducked his helm and looked away, suddenly finding the cold steel wall to be very interesting. "For leaving. I wish I could say I didn't have a choice but I guess you always have a choice. And I'm sorry for everything I said to you and everything I did to you before then. I... I shouldn't have. And I'm sorry about Breakdown too. I... I have lost someone who was close to me too, and... I'm just sorry."

"...Who knew the Autobots would make you so soft-sparked?"

"I'm trying to be serious before those Terrorcons suck our energon out," Starscream said. "If this is the last thing I ever say to you, then that's what I want it to be."

His spark was pounding in it's chamber. It was too small, too confined, too closed here. He felt horrifically trapped and - and - He was going to die. Here and now. Coolant stung at Starscream's optics and he really was not sure why. But somehow, part of him was not scared or even particularly panicked. If he was to stare down the barrel of death's blasters, then he wanted to be able to do it with his... friend?

If Starscream had been looking down, he would have seen Knockout's servo inching toward his own. But he didn't. His gaze was fixed on the wall in front of him. But he felt cool, smooth digits brushing his own and a cool, smooth servo intertwining with his own. His spark nearly stopped in its chamber in a way that had nothing to do with fear. Starscream didn't dare to glance to his left. But he merely pressed his digits down, interlocking their digits together, holding Knockout's servo tightly. The other mech squeezed back.

"You're no... Breakdown, but I must confess, I have always admired your lustrous finish," Knockout said.

It was definitely not the time, nor the place, but Starscream's face plates heated up rapidly, even though the room was pleasantly cool. And suddenly, something fierce in him began to want to fight to live, to have a future, one where everything would be alright. A plan came to him, breathtaking in its simplicity - but that didn't matter. All that mattered was keeping them both alive for the tim being, at least.

"I have a groundbridge generator," he said, un-subspacing it swiftly, though that meant he had to let go of the other mech's servo. 

"Why didn't you mention that before?!"

"That's past the point. I can bridge us both out of here. Knockout... come with me. Please. Megatron made you play god with that dark energon and sooner or later he's going to do something or order something that kills every mech aboard this ship. You know what he did to me. You put me back together when he was done with me. Please, come with me."

Starscream tilted his helm up to look at the datapad screen above him, which was showing a live feed of security cameras from around the ship. And the one that broadcasted the hallway right outside of this door - Megatron. His spark practically stopped. If he found Starscream - if - if - If he did - His optics grew a little wet with coolant.

"I'm not going to desert, Starscream. Not from the cause I've served for more vorns than not."

"Why not?"

"I -"

"Frag it," he said. "We're out of time. You know that if he finds me there won't be scrap left of me to put back together."

"And I'm the one who did all of this."

"I'm going to groundbridge out of here. If you find Silas and kill him and offline all affected Vehicons, you can isolate it while it's still manageable. One blast of that fragger's fusion cannon should solve the problem. Go out there and blame the mess on me. I snuck in here and I mixed dark and synth energon and injected it into Silas, making a virus that could render all Decepticon ranks useless. It's not a foolproof story but he can't touch you - you're this ships only medic. Nothing of substance will be lost if you hurry," Starscream said.

"If old Megatron takes the bait, the next time you see him, he's going to offline you. Starscream, don't sacrifice your sorry aft for me."

"I owe you at least that," he said. "I'm going to offer one more time. Please come with me. Please."

The silence that awaited him was enough of an answer. Starscream plugged in the coordinates to Hanger E - their new base - and watched as a portal opened itself. On the security camera footage, Megatron strode to the front of the door and pushed the button that opened it. He spared one last glance back and stepped through the portal.

Starscream spared one last glance back before he left again.

And then the portal closed behind him and it was all gone.

Chapter Text

Starscream leaned against the wall, watching the Autobots. He was here often, quiet more often than not, letting out the occasional scathing comment if he was feeling particularly like himself, which was truthfully not often these cycles. They were talking in low voices that he didn't bother to tune up his audials to hear - none of Starscream's business and most of him still wildly opposed developing any sort of attachment to his... situational roommates.

Suddenly, the hanger's systems let out a small alarm sound. Starscream flinched a little and then righted himself immediately, hoping no one noticed. "Our scanners have detected exposed energon," Ratchet said. 

"With our reserves at a critical low," Optimus replied, "we cannot afford not to investigate." His battle mask clicked smoothly into place.

Starscream felt a stab of panic - he depended upon the Autobots for energon, of course, and no energon for them meant none for him, either. He remembered the painful scrape of an empty fuel tank, of not knowing when his next cube would be, of praying that his termination would not be a slow and horrific one of starvation. Starscream had no particular wishes to repeat that. Exposed energon meant a mine, and a mine meant darkness and earth closing in, stone over his helm, nowhere to run, nowhere to fly, no escape at all.

The last time he had been in a cave, Optimus was quite literally dying in a hole and Starscream had been unsure if Smokescreen would ever return with the forge and with the phase shifter. Not a pleasant experience. Still, Starscream knew better than to rest his own fate in the servos of other mechs. Decepticon mines - no doubt, this was one of them - meant Decepticons, which meant a frag ton of trouble. And besides, Starscream had not left base since the reanimated corpse fiasco.

No one had questioned his absence quite as much as he had imagined, and using his own generator meant that no one had access to a log of where he had bridged to. Starscream truly had made a mess of things, though - he had given Megatron one more reason to snuff his spark, not that he needed another one. And whatever had happened with Knockout had just become even more complicated! On the bright side, assuming the virus had spread further than he had seen, the Decepticon ranks had probably thinned considerably. He wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. On one servo, it meant the war was one step closer to being won, but on the other, the further termination of even more Cybertronians - even Vehicons - didn't quite bring him the same pleasure it used to.

No one questioned Starscream either when he stepped through the groundbridge with the other Autobots. Starscream supposed that he was one of them in all but name now - still, he hesitated to wear their insignia. He was not sure if he deserved to wear it. Besides, the entire point was that he was tied to nothing and no one and had to obey nothing and no one. Starscream was not sure he trusted authority of any kind, or factions of any kind, or if he ever could again. He only knew that he had fought and killed for an empty cause for more vorns than not and he would never again do that. If the solution was to not join any faction at all, then so be it.

The bridge opened up onto a rocky outcrop overlooking a sandy clearing with a tunnel that lead directly under their pedes, into the mine. There were several Vehicons situated outside, to no one's surprise. Earth's structures being as small as they were and Cybertronians being as large as they were, it did not take long for them to be spotted. Armed with Ultra Magnus's fancy weapons from his ship, battle came quickly.

Starscream transformed and shot into the air with only a moment of hesitation, raining blaster fire down on the Vehicons and covering any Autobot's approach that he noticed. It was quick, lazy work for him - with no flying frames among the Vehicons, he alone had air supremacy. it was nice to win for once, but the victory still felt empty and hollow for a reason Starscream did not bother to pinpoint. The battle was won soon enough, and before long, Starscream had transformed back, finding himself staring down the darkness of the tunnel down into the mine.

"Look at all that sweet fuel," Smokescreen said, walking over to one of the carts piled high with raw energon. Starscream shot him a bemused look, feeling slightly guilty that he had neglected to spend time with possibly the only mech here he would consider a friend as of late.

"Stealth team, transport our cargo back to base," Optimus ordered. "Wreckers, reconnoiter the mine."

Starscream glanced at Ultra Magnus, Wheeljack, and Bulkhead - knowing all their lucks, something would go wrong here. Decepticons were always full of nasty surprises - Starscream would know, after all - and there were sure to still be Vehicons inside. He definitely did not like the idea of descending hundreds of feet back underground, tight and cramped and horrifying. But again, he tried very hard not to be a coward. "I will accompany them," he declared. "Consider it a... favor. I know these mines, shall we say, far too well. An insider job, if you will."

He left it at that but no doubt Arcee still remembered the time she had - unknowingly - saved him from Megatron's impending decision to terminate him. Ultra Magnus looked toward Optimus for confirmation, who gave a short nod of assent. Technically still being neutral, Starscream was under no one's command and no one could stop him from doing anything. That was a freedom that he relished.

"I've always wanted to roll with the Wreckers!" Smokescreen said, bounding forward far too enthusiastically. Seeing the look on his commanders' faces, he quickly added, "Uh... sir."

"Ever the wordsmith," Starscream said, though secretly he was very glad that his friend would come with him into the worst possible territory for a seeker. Maybe things would be alright. Maybe he was just overthinking.

. . .

The mine was every bit as cramped and horrific as he had imagined. Though it was structurally sound, Starscream could not help but imagine the earth bearing down on him, earth that would crush his delicate frame without a second thought. The walls, wide as they were, seemed to close in on him, shrinking inch by inch until he was pinned in place, unable to move. Even the ground beneath his very pedes seemed frightening and unstable. Despite the pounding in his spark, he proceeded onwards.

The four mechs walked slowly down the tunnel, blasters out and pointed at just about anything that moved. "No energon signals," Bulkhead said.

"And no additional security," Wheeljack added. "Something doesn't smell right."

"We - they are called Decepticons for a reason," Starscream supplemented helpfully. "And my coding isn't picking up much either."

That earned him three pairs of confused optics. "Energon seekers. On Cybertron." He didn't really want to offer up much more explanation - after Skyfire, the Academy had just been a painful reminder of his death. And after Iacon had tried to frame him for the death of Starscream's own partner, school had just become miserable. His admittedly abysmal grades landed him a position among the energon seekers - not terribly exciting or prestigious, but enough to keep energon on the table. It was a bitter, somber story and not a period of Starscream's life he liked to dwell on.

Eventually, they reached a fork in the tunnel. They had been walking for a few kliks now and had still encountered no resistance. "Pair off," Ultra Magnus said. Then he glanced over at Starscream, paused, and then said nothing.

He opted to go with Smokescreen and Bulkhead, preferring their company to the two considerably less friendly Wreckers. It was a slow, tense walk in which Starscream noticed nothing but the pounding of his spark and the weight of all the earth packed around him. Eventually, the path gave way to a wide, open chamber and Starscream finally felt as if he could let out a vent. The ceiling stretched far enough up to transform and fly, and he even saw a slice of daylight poking in through a large, wide crack.

Predictably, the cavern was filled with raw energon still embedded in the walls, as well as several carts of raw energon. "Bingo," Smokescreen exclaimed. "This is exactly what we needed."

"What?"

"It's a human word," Smokescreen exclaimed. "It's a game but also something you said when you score or win, I guess."

That sounded complicated, but Starscream was once again reminded of Knockout's bizarre obsession with human culture. The ghost of the cherry mech's servo over his own lingered there, even now, cycles later. His faceplates heated up at the thought but he was really not sure why. The cave, being underground, was very cool, after all.

It took them a while, but the trio managed to arrange all the energon carts in front of the entrance, as well as to break off and gather any crystals within reach. Smokescreen volunteered himself to do the left side of the cave, which had considerably more visible crystals, so Starscream and Bulkhead took the right. It occurred to him that the last time they had been together in relative solitude had been when Starscream had foolishly tried to venture back to the Nemesis in search of energon.

Bulkhead cleared his vocalizer awkwardly. "I, uh, never actually told you this but... Thanks for saving me that day. Would've been scrap without you, Screamer."

Starscream gritted his dentae. "It's Starscream. And you are very welcome."

"You could've left me. But you... you didn't."

"Can't a mech do something out of the goodness of their spark? Whatever the case, I hate Megatron more than I hate you soft-sparked, sappy Autobot fraggers. And -"

Suddenly, a loud but muffled boom! coming from somewhere to their right, hidden behind thick, unyielding stone rang out. Starscream froze, watching as parts of the ceiling trembled from the impact, dust falling down. Frag. The ceiling was going to collapse on him.

Tons and tons of rocks crushing delicate plating - suffocating dust and -

Trapped. He was going to be trapped.

Nowhere to go, nowhere to run, nowhere to fly - just darkness and stone and -

His vents came out shaky and weak. No, no, no. Starscream wouldn't die here, not without seeing the sky one more time, not without - But - Everything was closing in so fast - and - 

Trapped.

Nowhere to go.

Pinned in place.

The activation of a fusion cannon, red optics digging into his own, his own pleads falling to deaf audials. Earth all around him, closing and closing and closing and devouring and devouring and devouring.

Starscream had to escape. He had to run. He had to fly. He had to leave and he had to escape and he had to -

"You okay?" Bulkhead asked him, the other mech's steady voice snapping him out of his thoughts.

Starscream took a deep in-vent and glanced around. The cavern was large and definitely not collapsing. No walls were closing in. Megatron was sitting on his comfy little throne back on the Nemesis. He was not here and Starscream was safe. "Yes," he hissed, his own voice coming out a little too broken.

There was another muffled boom!. Wait... the other Autobots! They could be in danger - no, they were in danger. The - the Predacon, maybe? What else would be able to produce such large noises from so far away? "I'm going to go see what the frag is going on over there," Starscream said. "I'll comm if I need back-up, which I'm sure I won't. Don't even worry about me." He commed the same thing to Smokescreen quickly.

It was stupid and horribly rash of him to go engage the enemy by himself, but Starscream was prone to doing stupid and horribly rash things. He transformed and sped out the tunnel, retracing his previous pedesteps with each, smoke streaking behind his wingtips as he flew. He stopped himself sharply in mid-air and did a quick spin, turning. Starscream went down the other hallway and saw - 

Pods with what he recognized as cybernucleic acid in them - glowing a faint, sickly yellow. And inside were... Predacon protoforms! But Starscream had no time at all to think of any of these developments. What he did see was Wheeljack and Ultra Magnus, both down, sparks still flying off their frame. And standing tall above them was a red mech bigger than him - bigger, even, than Optimus, with spiked shoulder struts.

Could it be? Could the Predacon... transform?

Starscream considered simply shooting at it and deflecting it's - wait, would it be a he now? - blows, safe in the air, but that would accomplish nothing. The Predacon was far stronger than he was, and that game of cat and mouse would only result in his termination. He transformed and landed heavily on the ground, heel struts digging into the soft earth. "So you can transform," he said. "Impressive."

"I remember you," the Predacon said. 

Starscream inclined his helm. "I'm very memorable. And, if you do not wish for another reason to remember me, kindly stand down, Predacon."

"Predaking," the red mech snapped. "And I am under orders to terminate all Autobot activity here, orders that I intend to see to the end."

"Well, dear Predaking, what insignia do you see on my chassis? None? Precisely. Who is to say you have to follow Megatron's orders anyway? What reason do you even have? You could punt him like a... like a ball of scrap! Why settle to be a pitiful pet when you could be, well, a Predacon," Starscream said, doing his best to try and get a response out of Predaking. He reached out with his systems and found an open commlink just outside - Optimus! He was perched somewhere above a crack in the ceiling where a spot of blue sky was exposed.

I'll draw the thing out and you take our poor fallen comrades back to base, he commed swiftly. Hold on, had he just volunteered to deal with the Predacon himself? Oh, Starscream was scrap!

"I am not pitiful," Predaking said. "I have loyalty and I have honor, two concepts I sincerely doubt you understand. I have heard of your treachery and of your cowardice, Starscream, and I highly doubt that I have anything to learn from you."

"Honor?" Starscream echoed with a huff of laughter. "Since when has our dear Lord Megatron had any sort of honor? I would bet all my energon that he is plotting your demise as we speak! He detests anyone stronger than him, and that you certainly are."

Predaking flinched slightly - barely perceptible, but there none the less. "Lord Megatron is the one who ordered my creation. Without him, I would not exist, and thus I have a duty to him," he responded evenly.

"Oh, who gives a frag? Do you even hear yourself? Honor this, loyalty that... You bore me. You never asked to be created and neither did I or any other mech on either side of this miserable war. But here we are, on this mudball of a planet, surrounded by squishy little organics, and you have to choose what you do with those certainly imperfect circumstances. You get to choose. That's the main part. Why would you choose to be a lapdog?" Starscream questioned. Truthfully, he was curious, but he recognized that his own priority, which was self-preservation, was not every bot's priority. That made him a bad, selfish mech he supposed, but it had also kept him alive this long.

Starscream saw a dark shape streaking downwards rapidly - Optimus. He was not agile in the air at all, but his new wings served their purpose well enough. Starscream transformed, revved up his engine and thrusters, and shot upwards, putting a little spinning motion on it for the hell of it. He rushed past Optimus, the other mech barely a spot of color. Beneath him, Starscream heard Predaking transforming, and then he felt the heat of fire on his tail.

Starscream did a quick roll immediately, darting just out of the range of the fire. Once he was safely in the open air, he surged forward, wings slicing through the air, wind rushing all around him. His body was sleek and streamlined, designed for going as fast as humanly possible. The Predacon, on the other hand, was built for a number of things, speed only one among them. So thus, Starscream was able to stay just a few paces ahead.

He rolled and veered up, then back down. He ducked down and then rose back up. Starscream was in the air now, and now, he was untouchable. An unknown frequency commed him something and Starscream immediately matched it to Predaking. But when Starscream did a roll, turning, a groundbridge had already opened and Predaking was gone. He had... left.

He had let Starscream go.

He approved the comm request and read it: This is not over.

Starscream had no intentions that it would be.

. . .

The trip back to base was uneventful. Starscream bridged himself back, not wanting to rely too much on the Autobots. He was sore and tired all over, despite not having done much. The aches in his frame had returned, accompanied by a helmache that would not go away no matter how hard he tried. For all intents and purposes, he was a bit miserable. Starscream leaned back against the wall, standing in the doorway.

He was close enough to hear Optimus tell Ultra Magnus of something greater than armies (what could that be?) - family.

Starscream stood in the doorway, there and not, belong and not, not unwelcome and not welcome. He stood in the doorway, a ghost, not sure if he was to take a step forward or take a step back.

The perpetual motion machine continued on its merry way. He could not tell if it had sped up or slowed down.

Chapter Text

i.

The Decepticon's latest push to take Iacon had been just as successful as the last. And the one before that. Which was to say, a horrific failure, with forty percent casualties and still counting. Starscream paced the length of their makeshift base, several miles out from Iacon, hidden deep in the ground. It was not much - a control room and several hastily dug out barracks. Two exits in and out, one from the ground and one into the sky.

Thundercracker and Skywarp were still stationed in Kaon and he could feel a muted fuzziness through their bond - in recharge, most likely. Starscream hadn't gotten a decent defrag cycle in far too long, and tiredness dragged and ached at every part of him. He dreaded reporting the failure back to Lord Megatron - he had promised the warlord, after all, that this push would be successful. Had convinced him to give him twice the forces he was usually allotted, with the promise that the result would be worth the risk. Lord Megatron had even let Starscream take Soundwave with him - that's how desperate they were to take back Iacon.

Starscream's last report had been when they had left for battle last cycle - and he had been up the entire night pacing in circles in the command room with only Soundwave for company while his troops (the ones who were alive, anyway) tended to their wounds and tried to get a decent night of rest. On his orders. There were painfully few seekers left these days - many had fled Vos at the start of the war, a war that had thinned their ranks considerably since it had started. 

"He's going to have my helm," Starscream muttered to himself, pacing the length of the room once again. His wings drooped. "I'm fragged. I am so fragged."

Soundwave tilted his helm upwards from where he was typing away rapidly at a datapad. "I could have changed things," he said, playing a recording of what Starscream distinctly remembered as being one of his seekers who had just lost both her trinemates. "I - am - here too." The last part was several different voices spliced together to create a shaky, disoriented recording.

"Who are you kidding? Our gracious and merciful lord isn't going to touch you. No one can do what you do."

Soundwave stared at him for a moment longer, and then played a recording of Starscream's own voice. He winced at the sound of it - so young and innocent and arrogant, in the early days of the war. " - Second in command of the Decepticon army, Winglord of Vos!"

He thought he understood the point the other mech was trying to make. No one did what Starscream did, either. He was unmatched in the air - his seekers were all skilled, of course, but he was the one who ran drills with them, he was the one who had invented several maneuvers they now used, and he was the one who only felt truly alive in the sky. And the seekers followed him, him and no one else. Starscream was Winglord and though Vos was no more, his position still stood. Once a mech was Winglord, they took that title with them to the Allspark.

So the question was, why? Why did Megatron keep cracking his plating and snapping his cables and denting and shredding his wings? Why did the pain continue on and on and on? Why? What had Starscream done wrong? What had he done to deserve it?

Why?

Why did Starscream deserve to suffer? Why did he suffer? He had foolishly hoped, once upon a time, when they had been something more than a leader and his second in command, that the pain would stop. That Megatron would stop hurting him, as he had promised. That there would be no holding him and whispering apologies after nearly offlining him - that they would hold each other with only warmth and no pain at all.

But eventually, the warmth and the apologies and the promises of no more had stopped coming. And there was only pain. Pain and more pain and even more. It piled and piled and piled, until Starscream could remember nothing but pain. He hated the cycle they were trapped in, the twisted, evil dance. It repeated and repeated itself and Starscream could see it coming from a thousand miles away. 

Every time he messed up, the same thing happened. Every time Megatron had a bad day, the same thing happened. It was mostly superficial damage - nothing that would impact his ability to fly or to function, but it still hurt. The worst part was, Starscream had come to see it as the norm. He knew where and when each blow would land and how much it would hurt. He knew if he would not be able to move his wings for a few cycles or if he would be limping or if his plating would be hanging off the protoform when he onlined again. Starscream knew but knowing didn't change scrap about how much it all hurt.

Nothing did.

ii.

The cycles following the fall of Cybertron were quiet and tense. There was no other way to put it. The mood aboard the Nemesis was at a snapping point - and Starscream couldn't even go for a flight and burn the restlessness out of his system, now that they were in deep space. Who knew where the Autobots were - who knew where anyone was. The last evacuations had ended several dozen orns ago. Only Shockwave had remained behind with a handful of Vehicons to continue his work and keep Cybertron in check in the event that something happened. Though Starscream doubted anything would. His planet was effectively a gigantic ball of rusted metal.

The Nemesis had enough energon stores to last them... some time, and then they were on their own. Energon did not only exist naturally on Cybertron, and hope was maintained that Shockwave could perfect the synth en formula before they ran through their stores. But beyond that... Was this to be Starscream's fate? A slow, painful starvation, stuck on a rusting ship that floated on through space for all eternity?

Worse yet was the fact that Megatron's anger had grown even more volatile. Starscream was in charge of giving him reports on the status of the admittedly-damaged ship and of the fact that they had yet to find any Autobots, any further Decepticon reinforcements, or a safe planet with a supply of natural energon. Megatron had always been rather trigger-happy, and their current... dilemma only exacerbated things.

"You have to give us more time, Master," he said as they walked down one of the empty halls of the Nemesis. "These things take time and -"

Megatron let out a growl of frustration and whipped around to face him. Before Starscream could comprehend anything, a massive servo was clamping across his chestplate, shoving him up against the cold metal wall, crushing delicate wings against his own frame. He held him by his throat, squeezing the soft neck cables there. Starscream let out a choked gasp, but he knew better than to struggle. The sooner he went limp and weak, the easier it would be for him.

"I require a report, not a lecture, Starscream. I tire of your insolence. Give me results, if you value your spark," Megatron demanded. 

He let out a sound of affirmation - or at least as much as he could, given the fact that he could hardly get his vents out. "Master - please - I'm sorry - I'll -"

His pleads and apologies dissolved into pure static. Megatron's other servo pressed him up harder against the wall and he felt something in his wings strain and snap. Then something in his throat. Starscream's vocalizer choked out more static, then pure silence, before the world went entirely black.

. . .

A jolt of electricity through his frame jerked Starscream awake. He sat up with a gasp, glancing around. The tingle of electricity was certainly not enough to hurt him, but it was not a particularly comfortable sensation, either. He was still slumped against the wall the same way he had been left, and his chronometer informed him that it had been a few joors already. Starscream looked up to find Soundwave, retracting one of his data cables quickly back into himself.

Red optics met a cold black visor. "What are you looking at?" he snapped, voice still more static than sound. "I'm perfectly fine. Nothing out of the usual."

Soundwave regarded him again. Then he pointed one dark servo toward the direction of the medbay. Rather (un)helpfully, an arrow pointing to the same direction appeared on his visor, and then the first aid symbol, and then a smiley face. "Don't patronize me," Starscream said. "I know exactly where the medbay is. I live here too, Soundwave."

He stalked off in the opposite direction and tried not to think of how he had laid there, unconscious, plating torn and bruised, for joors before anyone bothered to ask questions. And the mech who had was the silent, admittedly creepy communications officer that Starscream had hardly spoken a word to since the war had started.

iii.

It had been about six mega-cycles since Cybertron had fallen, six mega-cycles since the Nemesis had departed a rusted, bombed out Kaon. The irony of it all was that Cybertron's geography was aligned in such a way that Starscream did not even get the luxury of a fleeting glimpse of his homeland before he left forever. The war had dragged on for unthinkable vorns already, and it had taken so much from him already. His trinemates - at that, he felt the hollow emptiness in his spark again. His home - Vos, gone forever, hollow and rusted, a gigantic scrap stain on the surface of Cybertron - though he supposed the entire planet was like that now.

Megatron's temper remained explosive and volatile and Starscream remained the only one who had to deal with it. Knockout was busy working on the synth en formula and on a spacebridge that would allow them to lock onto the coordinates of another planet, rather than journey through unknown deep space on thinning energon stores. It took a lot of energon to feed the amount of mechs on their ship, and even more to keep it moving. Breakdown had assumed temporary command of their ground troops - though it made no difference, because no one could presently leave the ship for any reason, in the absence of many of their commanders, who were either off-world on long-term missions, offline, or still unaccounted for. Soundwave was doing whatever it was that a spymaster did when there was no one to spy on. They gave their reports to him and he gave them back to Megatron.

Whenever there was a failure of any kind, apparently Starscream was to pay the price, because it may not have been his doing, but he was to be the perpetual bearer of bad news.

Soundwave was picking up signals, apparently, but Autobot signals. They were very distant and barely detectable, but there nonetheless. Autobot soldiers wandering the distant stars in search of their glorious comrades, most likely. Starscream knew that there were most certainly Decepticon soldiers out there too - entire platoons had been sent off-world for a multitude of reasons. Theoretically, there would have been a small army waiting for them out here. And the Nemesis was sending off some large and obvious signals.

But still, nothing.

Starscream never actually got Soundwave's reports most of the time. Apparently the silent mech was above that or some scrap like that. At the same time, Starscream knew that he had been there from the every beginning of the revolution - the real beginning, from the Pits of Kaon. When Megatron had been Megatronus, an idealistic and determined mech, but one who had practically no force behind him at all. Starscream had only known him when the rebellion had gained enough traction for news of it to travel from Kaon all the way to Vos.

He could not help but wonder if Megatron had always been this way. Starscream could not say that he particularly believed in the Decepticon cause - or whatever it had been originally. Starscream had always been high ranking - wealthy enough to pay his way through university and eventually hold enough political power to maneuver his way into becoming Winglord. Functionism had never particularly affected him either - in Vos, everyone was a flight frame and your place on the social hierarchy depended on other things. 

But the Autobots had been the ones who turned Vos to ash, and the Decepticons fought the Autobots. So he followed them. And Starscream believed in strength as the ultimate decider for power, and he believed that the Decepticons were stronger. So he followed. But it was clear to him that that original goal had been lost somewhere along the way - what use was it to uproot Functionism when there was no planet at all and no society at all left?

That did not matter to Starscream so he did not care, but someone like Soundwave, who had been there since the start... Oh, frag it all. Since when had he developed empathy for his fellow lieutenant, who he barely spoke to and certainly did not know?

. . .

Apparently, the report of no further Decepticon signals and only Autobot signals, too far away and too small to bother chasing down got to Megatron. And he wasn't happy. Starscream had thought, for the longest time, that while Megatron was happy tossing him around like a ragdoll and sending a blast through the spark of the nearest Vehicon, Soundwave was the one mech he would never lay a servo on. Not only was he invaluable to the Decepticons (no one did what he did, turly), but they also clearly had history that ran deeper then just the cause.

But what Starscream walked into in the command room he would not forget for a long time. Megatron, fusion cannon pointed. Soundwave, pressed up against the back wall, plating streaked with silver lines and damaged. "Have you lost your processor?" he snapped immediately. "We need him. How are we going to do anything if you tear our communications officer apart?"

Megatron turned to him slowly and Starscream's spark nearly stopped. "I mean - My apologies, master. But with all due respect, if you damage something in him, we may never get out of our little space gallivant and live to fight the Autobots another cycle. But I - I - Do whatever you want to me. In Soundwave's place."

And Megatron did do whatever he wanted to him. And it hurt. A lot.

Afterwards, Starscream stared up at the ceiling of the med bay and wondered why he had tried to protect Soundwave. Frag it. If playing soft-sparked Autobot brought him even more pain, why bother at all? Let that silent fragger get what Megatron wanted to give him.

It was what Megatron did to Starscream whenever he wanted. And no one gave a scrap. Why did he get someone's protection and care when Starscream didn't? How was that fair? What did one of them have over the other?

Maybe it was just that Starscream wished that anyone on this fragging ship would have intervened even once. Or shown an ounce of concern for him outside of purely professional matters. Did no one see him getting torn apart and then put back together only to be torn apart again?

Did no one see?

Or did no one care?

iv.

When Megatron left on a long-term trip off-world - off-world from their new base of operations, a muddy little miserable planet called Earth - Starscream was practically ecstatic. Not only did he have the power he so craved, power he hadn't had since Vos, but no more Megatron. No more fear, no more judgement, no more pain.

He had the freedom he had missed so dearly! The freedom to do whatever the frag he wanted in Starscream's down time and not have to worry about messing the tiniest thing up and being punished for it. The freedom of his spark not going crazy at the slightest of disturbances. The freedom to not be so scared all the time. Even the familiar dull scrape of pain along his entire frame had melted away.

It was not that it was better without Megatron, but - 

Was it?

But Starscream had no other options. Joining the Autobots was so laughable that it was dismissed immediately. And going off on his own was out of the question too. Starscream was a Decepticon, for better or worse. He could never leave. He was trapped here, for better or worse. Starscream could never leave, so he would have to make the most of it.

Even if that meant he was sure he would never be happy.

Chapter Text

Many things happened in Hanger E that Starscream didn't expect, with the latest apparently being the Autobots dragging fragging Soundwave through the groundbridge with them. Starscream, who had been leaning against the opposite wall out of sheer boredom, back from his morning flight, practically had to scrape his jaw off the ground. So they had managed to catch the third-in-command - impressive. 

He was uncharacteristically quiet as he watched the Autobots strap Soundwave to their medical berth, which was the only spare one, securing him with glowing blue stasis cuffs. Starscream knew that his former comrade would not cooperate - his loyalty was not just to the Decepticons, but to Megatron himself. It had never wavered in the slightest, not like his own. He could remember the a few instances through the millennia Soundwave had bothered to care about him - but in such a way that his own precious rank was never threatened. No point in that anyway; no one was as good at surveillance as Soundwave, and without him, the Decepticon cause was missing it's eyes and ears.

What Starscream truly did not understand was the other mech's continued loyalty. No one spoke of it any longer, nor had they for vorns, but Soundwave had once had five symbionts, not one. Four missing pieces in his spark... Two missing pieces in Starscream's.

It took a few kliks, but eventually Soundwave awoke, tugging his arms against the stasis cuffs, visor darting around the room. Starscream leaned up, not joining the others, though his optics remained fixed on the other mech. 

"Because we had the foresight to shield our new base, our captive will be unable to transmit his coordinates to the Decepticon warship," Ratchet said.

"Nor will they in turn be able to pinpoint his location," Optimus added.

"Guess we have all the time in the world to make Mr. Personality tell us everything he knows," Wheeljack said. The sadistic streak to his voice made Starscream hesitate, but then he remembered the stupidly kind, moral Autobots. Soundwave would be fine.

Starscream heard the humans various murmurs about his comrade - "But Soundwave doesn't speak, does he?" "I'm not sure he even has a face!"

"He took a vow of silence sometime in Megatron's little rebellion. Something noble and self-sacrificial about the Senate's empty promises," Starscream explained, making his presence known.

The humans flinched a little, apparently still not entirely used to having him around. Truthfully, Starscream wasn't entirely used to being around. "A Senate?" one of the humans, Jack - see, he did remember their names, echoed. "Cybertron had one?"

"Unfortunately so," Starscream said. While the Decepticon cause had been lost vorns and vorns ago - becoming instead Megatron's own vehicle to extract revenge on Optimus - he truly believed that it had been a dream for a better future for Cybertron to begin with. One where every mech was equal regardless of frame, caste, or any other superficial differences. He knew what Vos had been in the eyes of the select few who held their planet and species's futures in the palms of their servos, who had not represented the common worker's best interests, but instead their own. It had simply been a pile of meat, ready to be butchered and sold. Cybertron prior to the war had been a functioning planet, but it's society had been poisoned to the core. To this cycle, Starscream was still not sure if there had been anything worth saving in it, or if it had to be destroyed completely, like Megatron had done. It should have stopped with the Senate. But it hadn't.

"High-caste mechs sipping their high-grade from their golden towers in Iacon while their people starved in the streets," he said, the memories still fresh in his processor, even after all the vorns that had passed since it had been a reality. "Megatron was right, you know, at first at least. The Senate was rotten to the core and the only way to make change was to destroy it. It wasn't always like this. Even your beloved leader agreed with us - them - once upon a time."

The humans regarded him curiously. "So the Decepticons were... good?" Miko echoed.

Starscream shrugged. "We were what our circumstances made us, and by then those circumstances had driven us to the point of no return." He flinched a little. Maybe that was true. But it sounded a little like... more excuses. There was always a choice.

But what choice had he had? When the Autobots, by then still affiliated with the rotten Senate, had bombed Vos to dust without so much as a warning, leaving sparklings and civilians alike to die in the streets? What choice had Starscream had but to rise up and fight back? As Winglord, it would have been the worst kind of treason to his city and to his people to choose not to retaliate. Starscream still stood by his choice, he decided, even now. The Decepticons then were not what they were now.

And he wondered. If Cybertron did live again, and there was a society to go home to... Would things simply happen all over again? Mechs on the top and mechs on the bottom, those same mechs sipping high-grade from their golden tower, watching as the ordinary worker fought and starved in the street. A united, peaceful Cybertron was a great idea, but to Starscream, it sounded like a nice recharge-time story for sparklings.

Starscream watched the Autobot's slightly disastrous interrogation of their new prisoner. Although he had to admit, Soundwave's "remix" (as Miko had dubbed it) of Optimus's voice was rather amusing. Perhaps the silent mech did have a sense of humor.

Suddenly, red text began to flare across Soundwave's visor and a high-pitched sound emitted from his frame. Starscream flinched back instinctively, shielding his audials. "Scrap this!" Ratchet said when his visor had cleared. "Soundwave is no ordinary Cybertronian, inside or out. So I would strongly suggest opening him up so we can have a first hand look at the information recorded on his drives.

But before anyone else could respond, more red text as flashing across Soundwave's visor. "Alright, he's downloading data," Bulkhead said.

"No. Soundwave is erasing data."

By the time his visor was clear again, Starscream had a feeling any and all files that would be of any use at all were deleted. Smart fragger. He would never willingly give information up, and now he couldn't be forced to give it up unwillingly, either.

"Soundwave: superior, Autobots: inferior." Static flashed across that dark visor, before beaming out entirely. Soundwave's helm hit the berth as he locked himself into stasis.

His vow... broken? That was Soundwave's own voice, that Starscream had last heard too long ago to remember. Not recordings. Not text. His own voice. His ultimate sacrifice for the Decepticon cause had been his own voice. And now he had sacrificed his vow of silence again for the cause.

How incredibly twisted, Starscream mused to himself, to be so loyal and to be so blind.

But had he been so different? How long had Starscream stayed? How long had he endured Megatron's abuse? How long had he endured the decimation of what was left of Vos's seekers? Starscream could have left at any point and no one would have stopped him. He was smart enough and fast enough to escape and desert. At some point or another he had to have realized that with no Cybertron left at all, there was simply no point to the war whatsoever, one that would only bring even more bloodshed and death.

So why? Why had he stayed?

That was the question, wasn't it?

. . .

"Can't we throw a tarp over him or something?" Bulkhead said as the groundbridge closed behind the other Autobots. "He's creeping me out."

"Yeah," Smokescreen agreed. "It's like he's watching... no matter where you go."

"Unconscious he's like any other mech," Starscream offered helpfully. "Although I imagine he's better at faking it than you think."

"Would you three stop focusing on what Soundwave can or cannot see and help me figure out what he did not tell?" Ratchet said, cutting through their conversation. "Like why Megatron would be interested in something believed to generate enough power to create a black hole."

"Black holes?" Smokescreen echoed. "So... Megatron's looking to swallow up the known universe?"

"And everything in it," Bulkhead added.

"Don't be fools. He does not wish to destroy - he wishes to rule. This human technology must be a way for him to do so, otherwise he would not want it," Starscream said.

"No, no - Starscream's right. He would merely want to harness the power of something capable of swallowing worlds... in order to create one."

Megatron wished to recreate the Omega Lock, then. Starscream did not even hear the rest of the Autobot's words to Optimus - the Omega Lock could be rebuilt. Decepticon engineering defied expectations time and time again - if they succeeded and control of it was wrestled back into Autobot servos... Cybertron could be cyber-formed. Cybertron could live again.

All hope was not lost.

Cybertron could rise again. Vos could rise again.

Silence echoed through the base. Starscream knew, almost for certain, that Soundwave would rather snuff his own spark than join the Autobots, or any semblance of that idea, however slight. Still, part of him wanted to at least try, because part of him still refused to believe that the Decepticons were truly rotten to the core. There had to be something in there worth saving, however small. There had to be the tiny pieces of what he had once fought for, of what Starscream had once believed in with his entire spark.

There was still change that needed to be made. There was still a planet that needed to be restored. There were still things to do, and hadn't the Decepticon vision been a Cybertron where every mech had freedom? The freedom to choose, the freedom to be who they wanted to be, to live how they wanted to live. Free of Functionism and the caste system and oppression of any kind. Oh, how sorely they had lost that vision. And wasn't it ironic that Megatron, the one who had once preached against the idea of a designated lower caste, of mechs who would never become anything more than what they were forced to be, had ordered the construction of the Vehicons - nameless, faceless soldiers who were to be his cannon fodder and nothing else?

Starscream despised himself for not seeing all of this sooner. It seemed so obvious in hindsight. So painfully, painfully obvious. But Starscream had been blind - painfully and stupidly so. He could have done something, if only to remove himself from the situation entirely. And yet Starscream chose to fawn and obey like a coward, disregarding everything he stood for and fought for for the preservation of his own spark, for the preservation of a life he did not deserve to live.

But he liked to think that he had changed. That the mech who had stayed by Megatron's side for too many vorns was not the same mech he was now. He still had trouble believing that, really.

A bit of light had returned to Soundwave's visor and he could hear the sudden churning and clickings of gears as the communications officer onlined again. "Let me try to talk to him," Starscream said. 

The remaining Autobots exchanged hesitant glances and he quickly added, "Have a little more faith in my brilliance. You can even stay and watch; it's not as if I'm going to run back to dear Megatron. Allow me to work my... magic."

He turned back to his former comrade. "That was smart, purging your drives, if I do say so myself. I doubt you have anything more to offer the Autobots, so I would suggest you listen carefully to me, if you value your spark." That was an empty threat. The Autobots would never kill a prisoner... Not like Starscream once had.

A ping popped up on his HUD. Starscream reopened his commlink - encrypted, of course - with Soundwave and read the message. Soundwave: loyal.

He snorted. "To what end? Our dear leader has holes in his processor, for Primus's sake. What are we even fighting for any longer? If you think that this is still about our noble cause, you are stupid. This is about Megatron's grudge against his little boyfriend who he knew for less than a vorn before dedicating several millennia to trying to kill him! It's about one mech's petty little grudge, and not about anything else. Would you really want to fight a pointless war until we're all scrap, and then return to a restored planed that will just be destroyed again, or would you rather -"

Soundwave sent him another message. Soundwave: loyal. Starscream: cannot change that. Soundwave: not a traitor. Starscream: cannot change that.

"If anyone's a traitor, it's your beloved leader. A traitor to our cause, that is - if you even remember what it was originally. I have trouble recalling, even, because we threw it away like scrap so long ago. The Senate was gone. Functionism was close to being gone. We made our point well enough by burning cities to the ground. If we rebuilt it from there, we would be standing on a Cybertron built on Decepticon ideals - the original Decepticon ideals - right now, rather than this mudball of a planet. And if Megatron's little science project regarding the Omega Lock succeeds... there will just be another war to conquer Cybertron, and I sincerely doubt it will survive another one," Starscream continued.

"Spare me your lectures," Soundwave replied, using an old recording of Megatron.

"Am I to believe that you know all of this already? You're a smart mech, Soundwave, you must. And that would lead me to assume that you simply choose to ignore the desecration of our planet, society, species, and the Decepticon cause at the servo of Megatron because... Why?"

Silence.

Soundwave: loyal. Things able to change that: none.

Starscream rolled his optics. "Then you'll be having a jolly old time on the Nemesis until we're all rusting scrap. The war will never be over for as long as Megatron's spark beats. I may not know you excessively well, but I trust that no mech prefers perpetual warfare to the possibility of a legitimate future. That is my proposal. Take it or leave it; I can't say I give a scrap."

More silence. There, that was something to think about, Starscream thought to himself, feeling quite triumphant. Or perhaps he just loved the sound of his own voice, which was also true.

It was then that Starscream saw Agent Fowler enter in through one of the doors. And then he heard - no... 

Laserbeak.

The moment that thought entered his processor, there was a bang! as the metal of the ceiling was crushed and bent. Laserbeak, all dark and sharp edges, burst through it. After a few nano-kliks, she reigned red blaster fire down on them. Starscream dodged just barely, attempting to return fire. But his target was too small and too fast - there was not even room in the hanger for him to transform and fly properly.

His missiles were out of the question - the space was too small and with a human here too... Starscream trusted his aim, but even his optics had trouble tracking the symbiont's rapid movements. He ducked, avoiding the red fire that trailed narrowly over his helm. When he dared to lift his helm back up again, Laserbeak's last shot hit the berth, freeing Soundwave's last stasis cuff. "Shoot!" Starscream shouted. "Before she can -"

Smokescreen returned fire - and hit Laserbeak in the wing. Part of her wing clipped off and fell to the ground with a clatter, but other than momentarily disorient her, it hardly even slowed her down. She dodged and veered, flying upwards and then swooping down again, reconnecting to Soundwave's chassis smoothly. His visor flashed with code - new orders and a new directive, most likely. 

One cable extended outwards, delivering a swift shot of electricity to Smokescreen, too fast to catch or to retaliate. A second cable hit Bulkhead, all while Soundwave advanced smoothly forward, as if on a pleasant mid-afternoon stroll. Starscream scrambled back, raising one arm to aim a missile - but that left his right side blind.

By the time he felt the cable connect to him and the electricity rushing through him, it was too late.

Starscream registered one last comm before the world went dark.

Soundwave: is sorry.

Chapter Text

Starscream onlined his optics with a gasping start. He sat up, wings banging painfully against the wall. What had... what had happened? There was a warning on his HUD about overheating systems... Oh. Soundwave. He sprang to his pedes immediately, glancing around wildly, but found no trace of Soundwave or Laserbeak - other than the hole in the ceiling. Starscream saw Smokescreen, Bulkhead, and Fowler onlining too around him - but no sign of Ratchet. Their base was otherwise unharmed, but...

"Ratchet? Do you read?" came Arcee's voice out of the datapad.

"Arcee?"

"Bulkhead! Is everything alright? Where's Ratchet?"

"He's... he's gone."

Starscream gripped the wall for support and tried to stand up straight, ignoring the pain in his spinal strut and backplates. The Autobot medic, gone... With Soundwave, most likely. Ratchet was not just a medic, but a scientist as well. Could it be that Megatron was so desperate to complete the reconstruction of the Omega Lock that he would resort to such means? Starscream felt cautiously optimistic about it's current reconstruction work - but he quickly snapped himself out of that.

The fate of their planet in Megatron's servo was the worst possible thing that could happen. In fact, he was certain that he would prefer no Cybertron again, ever, than more war on it, or, even worse, a Decepticon-controlled Cybertron.

By the time the other Autobots arrived back at base, Starscream had given himself a processor-ache thinking in circles. Soundwave was gone with the wind, and with him, any hope of finding the Nemesis and stopping the reconstruction of the Lock. The entire Hanger was scoured for anything left behind - anything at all that could help them. Starscream could not think of a single way out of this mangled situation, but he also did not feel like sitting on his aft while the fate of his planet and species was yet again at risk.

The one thing they managed to come up with was a tattered piece of one of Laserbeak's wings that Smokescreen had shot off of her. "Impressive," he commented, "for an Autobot."

Smokescreen rolled his optics. "You can't be talking anymore - you're one of us now!"

Starscream paused - he wore no insignia on his chestplate, and he had sworn to himself that he never would again, but... Did he belong here? Did he truly belong here? He was inclined to say that he had more than proven himself, and it would be stupid of the others not to agree with that sentiment, but Starscream could not say they particularly trusted or liked him. It was hard to be under the roof as the same mech who had skewered their friend and comrade like a bug. Still, it brought a certain unwelcome warmth to his spark that Smokescreen at least thought of him that way.

"Peeled some paint off Laserbeak," Smokescreen said as Arcee examined the piece, turning it over. "But if I were a better shot, Ratchet would still be here."

"Chin up, soldier. We've combed the entire floor. For the moment, that remains our only clue," Ultra Magnus said.

"Nothing in the groundbridge log," Bulkhead added. "If they bridged Ratchet out of here, they used theirs, not ours."

"Soundwave can create his own ground bridges out of nothing. He has no need for our - for yours," Starscream said. "For all intents and purposes, he's gone for good."

"Why take Ratchet but leave these three behind?" Arcee said. 

...Good point. None of them, Starscream imagined, would be much use to Megatron... though the question remained, why leave him here? The two Autobots were of no use and there was not nearly enough energon on this planet to indulge in the business of keeping prisoners. But him? The traitor and the deserter who had fought his own former faction more times than could be counted on two servos... Megatron would have a field day ripping him into tiny little pieces.

Unless Soundwave had...

"If Megatron intends to hold our medic hostage, I find it curious that he has made no demands," Ultra Magnus replied.

"It would stand to reason that Ratchet must possess something that the Decepticons want," Optimus added.

"Well, whatever the 'Cons are after, Ratch won't give it up... right?"

Wheeljack looked up from where he was digging through Ratchet's datapads. "Maybe buckethead's after the techno-babble," he said, as a screen showing work on what seemed to be a formula for synthetic energon popped up. 

"The synth-en formula?" Arcee questioned.

"Why would the 'Cons need the artificial stuff if they already control most of this planet's energon reserves?" Smokescreen said.

"Greed," Bulkhead replied. "What else?"

Starscream leaned back. "Is it not obvious?" he questioned. "Megatron wants to rebuild the Omega Lock so he can have our dear old planet's fate back in the palm of his servos. He wants control, and that's what's going to give him the most of it. I'd imagine your medic's little science project is part of the recipe."

Silence.

"I hate to be the one to bring lightning to a thunderstorm but there's one thing we're all ignoring," Fowler cut in. "The 'Cons found Ratchet here - they know the location of this base."

Something akin to the ice that had pummeled his wings vorns ago in the arctic when Skyfire had still been there froze Starscream. He could have sworn that even the energon in his fuel lines stopped flowing. His spark stopped beating. Everything went very still and very quiet. 

Starscream had thought that he would be safe here. He had thought that he would be protected here. He had felt safe on the Harbinger and for that his last memories of the mechs he loved were crushed underfoot like a footnote, like a fleeting thought. And now, for daring to feel safe here, they were coming. And they would not be like Soundwave. They would not show Starscream mercy and he knew that Megatron was done showing him mercy.

He had been stupid. He had been so, so stupid. Megatron had been right. No matter where he ran, no matter where he hid, he would be found. There was no road that didn't lead back to the Nemesis, no path that didn't bring him right back where he belonged. Why had Starscream thought that he could hide? Why had he dared to try and be something else, to make something else for himself - anything?

And now he was going to be dragged right back to a place worse than the pit - he was - they were going to take him back - and this time Starscream could not - would not be allowed to escape.

No, no, no. It couldn't have all been for nothing. It couldn't! He hadn't done all of this just to go back... But the Autobot base had been destroyed one time and could it survive a second? Could he survive a second? Starscream's time to offline had been a very long time ago but somehow he was still here and was this what Primus had in store for him? A fate worse than death? A fate that was to return to the very place he had spent so long trying to run from?

He didn't even notice when his knees hit the ground, entire frame trembling. It was like he was underwater, or somewhere very, very far away. Starscream was vaguely aware of his vents turning shallow and jagged, like broken glass, but even that seemed like a far off dream. Megatron was far, far away and Starscream had escaped and there was nothing on his chassis but smooth gray metal. But even now he still took and took. Just the thought of him reduced Starscream to - to - this.

Everything had been taken from him, truly. Someone was crouching down next to him, hand on his shoulder strut, asking him something. Starscream vaguely heard his designation but it was all too much and his helm was hurting and his audials were ringing and had the ground always had that much texture? It was all too much and he just wanted to purge his own tanks. It had to stop. It had to.

But there was nothing he could do - no way for him to stasis lock himself so that the tiniest of sounds echoing through the Hanger - the sounds of night outside, the pedesteps and murmurs of the bots around him, even his own vents and the pounding of his own spark could all stop. Make it stop.

He hadn't even noticed but his claws had dug deep into his wrist plates on his left arm, drawing energon from the fuel lines buried there. The jarring pain rocked through Starscream but even that was not enough to snap him back to reality. Logically he was aware that he was bleeding energon and feeling pain just like any other mech would but - He - He didn't feel any of it. It was all so distant and muted and faraway.

The cold coolant sliding down his faceplates was a surprise. All of a sudden, cold reality snapped back. The air on his plates and between the seams of his armor were too cold and too warm and too sticky - The sounds that he couldn't even pick apart from one another - and the cursed fragging pounding of his own spark that made Starscream want to rip it right out of its chamber just to make it stop.

More energon dripped from his arm. Someone was pulling his servo away, and holding it. Starscream didn't know who. He leaned downwards, staring at the ground, the gray somehow too bright and too jarring for his optics. He just wanted to lay down and recharge for a very long time - but he was not tired at all. Rather his spark was pounding and every inch and seam and crevice of his armor was tight and trembling.

Even Starscream's protoform ached under the metal, bruised and dented and scarred as it was. Somehow he wanted all the metal on him off even though it was part of him and taking it off would terminate him. He just wanted all the feelings to stop. Starscream turned down his audials and offlined his optics and it was - 

Quiet. And it was dark.

He let out a choked sob of relief that he didn't hear. The words tumbled out of him, hysteric and so jumbled that it was hard to tell what he was saying. Starscream could not hear himself at all but the words left his mouth regardless. Once he started he could not stop, like they had been buried in him for too long and were just now beginning to worm their way out. "He took everything from me - my trine - my spark isn't whole! And it never will be again because of him - He took my future and - I let him do it - I let it happen. The war took everything and I let it happen and - Now it's going to happen again and - I'm going to - going to - let it - let it happen again."

Even the darkness had turned horrific and warm and stifling. Starscream didn't know what to do - wanted to plunge his claws into his arm again down to the protoform but whoever was holding his servo didn't loosen their grip on it even as he struggled. Primus, he hated how tiny and small and slender his frame was now. Anyone could throw him around like a ragdoll - especially Megatron. It made him faster and lighter and certainly more aerodynamic but - Starscream hated it. He hated feeling so weak and so helpless knowing that if his wit and his glossa couldn't save him, nothing could because he simply could not fight back. He was at the absolute mercy of whomever was stronger than him.

Starscream needed to get it out of him. The fear, the desperation, the twisting anger. Because his spark was pounding so fast it made him want to purge his tanks until there was nothing left and claw open his fuel line until he bled dry. And it was still too much even with no sensory or auditory input whatsoever. Starscream's frame ached and he knew where every single replacement had been made, where every scar had been cut and where every screw and bolt had been replaced with something that didn't quite fit right. It was something inside of him that he could not claw out, that he had to live with. Had to suffer with. So Starscream talked even though he could not hear himself because that was what he knew how to do and that was what kept him safe and that was all he was good for.

"Didn't - didn't always have this frame. In Vos - if you remember from the - the start of the war - 's not the point but - I could fly the same but I was stronger and - felt more like myself. During the war I got injured - as you do in a war - on account of there just being things I can't outfly - and - thought about changing my frame to make it even lighter. Thought about it but didn't want to change myself - but - took a big hit in one of the battles for Iacon. Almost got myself offlined. Not much of me left to save I guess - should've offlined that day maybe - and - and I woke up with my frame now. Don't know if I wanted it. No one asked me. But I was faster so I - I - I guess it was fine and -"

Another sob ripped itself out of his throat. His wings, hiked up from anxiety, began to droop a little. That had happened to Starscream so many vorns ago that it didn't even matter anymore. But if Sky saw him now, would he even recognize him? Not just the mech he had become, but physically too. Didn't matter. He was lighter and faster now, faster than anyone else in the air. It made Starscream better at flying and better at war and wasn't that all that mattered? Wasn't it?

But Starscream was just so tired.

He had had nightmares nearly every night he fell into recharge and every heavy footstep, every raised voice, every sudden motion sent his spark pounding. It was no way to live but there was no other way. Starscream had to keep going forward because it would all be worth it - But would it? 

Every time he thought that it could not get worse, that he could not lose more, it got worse. He lost more. Starscream truly had nothing left to lose now and nothing left to live for but he was certain that the world would find a way to take even more from him. How was it fair that he had sacrificed everything to try and be a better mech and try and save his home and save his species but it all blew up in his face?

How was it fair that Starscream had given his life, his home, his trine, his frame, his friends, his people to a war and to a cause that turned out to be nothing more than a steaming pile of lies, lead by someone who would grind him to a fine silver dust the next time they met? How was it fair that he had made peace with his own death, made peace with the things he had done and more importantly, the things he hadn't done, but Starscream was still yanked back and forced to keep on living? How was it fair that he kept hurting and he kept suffering and there was no silver lining to it at all? Things didn't get better for him. They only got worse and he knew that they would get worse still.

But Starscream really did not want to keep living. And yet he was too scared to die, too scared to dig his claws into his spark chamber and snuff his own spark. Because there was still part of him that wanted to be happy, that wanted a future. That believed there could be a future and that he could be happy. But really, most of him was too tired of pain to try and live till that day came. If it came. Starscream's faith in the world to give him a happy ending and his faith in himself to do that was completely gone. 

Was there anything that was not gone?

But when he was at the bottom - and this was the very bottom, he was sure - the only thing left to do was sit there and rust or go up. And for a seeker, the sky was freedom and the sky was salvation and when all else failed, the sky held you in its azure embrace. And the sky was up.

Starscream had no energy to continue, nor did he see any point in doing so. But regardless he had to. Why he was not sure. But he had to.

And someone was holding him. Not trying to restrain him. Not trying to force him to calm down. And someone was holding him. Warm and gentle and caring, digits stroking the metal of his plating. And someone was holding him. He did not online his optics because it did not matter who was holding him. Starscream was being held and he could not remember the last time that that had happened. And someone was holding him.

And he did not pull away.

He leaned in.

Chapter Text

"We have incoming!" Fowler shouted. "A whole bleach work!" The datapads next to him began to beep rapidly. Starscream found his palms slick with coolant - his spark was pounding in anticipation. With adrenaline, not fear.

He had done this more than once. He had faced worse odds working with less. And, of course, the hasty change in paint job had hidden them well. Human letters were conveniently shaped enough. There was no reason to be scared, Starscream told himself again and again. There was no reason to be scared. He would be alright. He was safe here now and he would be safe here later. Nothing was going to happen. Nothing that hadn't happened before.

Starscream was still shaky on his pedes, eyes still a little misty with coolant. He felt weak and painful all over, but he shoved that all to the side.

"Allow me," he said a little lazily, trying to hide the slight tremor in his voice. "These are my troops. I know how to engage them."

Starscream hated the look of pity in their optics and he turned his gaze away toward the ceiling. Everything was still a little bit of a blur but it was returning... His self-repair had fixed the damage he'd done to his wrist plates and he no longer felt the urge to purge his tanks. That was good, Starscream supposed. In the end, though, no one here was his commanding officer. The hanger door opened. He flexed his digits, aching to get back into the sky and fly.

"Are you sure?" Smokescreen asked him. "The humans can -"

Starscream nodded. "I am - was - Air Commander. I can handle myself in the air better than anyone."

The other mech still looked worried. Primus he hated that look of pity, like he was weak, like he needed to be coddled. But regardless, the hangar bay door slid open and the cool air outside greeted him. "Be safe," Smokescreen said, and he gave a short nod of affirmation.

Outside, the sky was very dark. Starscream looked up to find the trailing figures of six jets, leaving twelve lines of smoke glittering against the pitch black sky. He transformed, plating moving smoothly in and out of place, connecting and reconnecting. He powered up his engine and shot into the air, gaining altitude as fast as he could. Starscream could not resist a slight corkscrew in the air - it was good to be back up where he belonged.

Behind him, he sensed five jets falling into a smooth formation. Humans. A mockery of Cybertronian air superiority, perhaps, but they could fire and kill well enough. Starscream still felt the part of him that ached to fly, that ached to soar above the clouds where the air grew thin and where the night sky - where Cybertron - grew close enough to touch. But now was not the time for that.

He opened fire immediately, soaring sharply up in a straight line. The rush of wind through the seams of his plating, tickling his protoform, was deliriously pleasant. Starscream dove back down, spinning to avoid the Vehicon's returned fire. One of his blasts hit something and one of the Vehicons spiralled downwards rapidly, smoke trailing from one broken wing. He had to admit, the human jets behind him packed a surprising amount of firepower. Certainly more than him.

One of the humans split from his tail, soaring rapidly below him. Perhaps the mechanics of their machines were completely different, but the basic maneuvers of fighting in the air remained the same. The jet below him lured one of the Vehicons down, ready for an easy target. Starscream took the chance where he saw it and turned nearly ninety degrees so his nose cone angled down, firing downwards. There was little space to turn or dodge, and soon enough, another Decepticon was plummeting toward the ground, trailing smoke and sparks.

Starscream spun sharply in the air, diving downwards, before correcting his motion and sailing smoothly. Mid-fall, he opened fire, catching the Vehicons off-guard with the sudden directional change. 

He sent his missiles forward, watching as their sleek red shapes cut through the air, a trail of smoke following. They found their targets and two additional Vehicons burst into orange and red flames. But his momentary victory had been distracting - the remaining two Vehicons had cut through the human's defenses, sailing below them. Starscream rolled and turned, diving downwards to catch up.

He was a few nano-kliks too late, though, and four missiles streaked toward Hangar "E." Starscream stopped his motion and hung back, hovering, allowing the other hangar to combust in a loud, sharp boom! Rubble and smoke flew in every direction and the two remaining Vehicons darted away to where a groundbridge had opened for them. Starscream let them go, diving toward the ground and transforming back.

The hangar was alright. A simple erasure of one of the lines on the human glyph and changed it into an entirely different one, and apparently his former faction was stupid enough to believe it. Starscream stood there for a moment, watching as smoke and fire trailed upwards toward the stars, catching his vents. 

He was not going to lose more. He refused to. As long as he was online to fight another cycle, he would keep fighting. There was always more than the war could take from him, but Starscream intended to see it through to its end regardless. He owed that much to those who did not have the privilege to choose that, on account of being offline. And he supposed that he owed that much to himself, to himself who had suffered and lost and sacrificed too much for it to all end now.

. . .

"So the kid clipped the business end of Laserbeak's transponder," Wheeljack said to Smokescreen. 

"You're not such a bad shot after all," Arcee added.

Starscream leaned against the wall quietly, watching the Autobots do their various things around the hangar. It was a small, shared space. Not much room to yourself. Just like the Nemesis. And yet, it felt so... different. Quiet, but not in a bad way. No one angry. None of the casual sort of flippant violence that he had come to expect. The sort he had utilized himself whenever Starscream found himself annoyed.

Raf was typing away at his small, human-sized datapad, which was connected to the clipped end of Laserbeak's wing. "If the transponder were still attached to Laserbeak, we could follow it," Arcee said.

"Maybe we should give it wings."

"We can use spare parts, from the machine shop," Raf added.

"Then let's do it. For the doc."

Starscream felt a little guilty sitting on his aft while the Omega Lock was surely nearing completion - while the fate of his species's home and very future hung in a delicate balance, by a single thread of pure luck and chance. Still, he did not like the glances that came his way, like he was something very fragile that could not be handled too roughly, lest it break and shatter. That was how he found himself helping Wheeljack and Raf build a device that would allow the transponder to fly. He was intimately familiar with the mechanisms that allowed his own frame to take to the air - vorns of doing shoddy repairs on himself on the battlefield before he had met someone he trusted enough to let near his frame. It wasn't too awfully hard to apply that back to a simpler device.

"The frequency modulator keeps shorting out," the human said. "Your wires are connecting to the wrong things," Starscream offered, examining the metal contraption. "Allow me." He hooked a claw over two wires, disconnected both of them, and then switched the ports. Electricity had been flowing to the wrong place. 

"A simple error," he amended, when Raf looked frustrated. "I took an engineering course in my first year at the Academy. One of my assignments was to build a perpetual motion machine that ran for as long as possible on one standard cube of energon. I nearly failed that class because the next morning, I crossed the wires the wrong way and the entire thing blew up in my face." He reconnected another wire and checked again - there.

"You were an engineer?" he questioned.

"A scientist. I wanted to be one, anyway." Starscream left the rest unsaid. He was a soldier now, and he did not know how to be anything else. That foolish, naive little mech inside of him still wanted to be a scientist, still wanted to create and study and explore. But all Starscream knew how to do now was destroy. And he was good at it, too. May as well stick to it.

"You went to the Academy?" Wheeljack asked him.

Starscream shrugged. "I wasn't always a Decepticon, you know."

"I remember the stories now. They said that you killed -"

"Skyfire. Yes, yes. That old story by a rotten government trying to shift the blame to an unfortunate little foreigner," Starscream said flippantly. "I didn't kill him. Why would I? He was" - almost my Conjunx, my best friend, my entire world - "... a friend. It was simply the weather patterns of this very fragging planet that terminated him."

And Starscream was here now, on the very planet where Skyfire had died, trying to right all the wrongs that had happened since then. Was that where it had all gone wrong? Was that where he had gone wrong? Starscream wanted to think that as long as he was still online, there was still time to change, to try and be better. But what would Skyfire think of him now? Would he still love him? Or would he, rightfully, hate him?

Or would Skyfire simply want him to be at peace with himself and move on from a mech who had died before the war had even begun? To let go of the scars over his spark and try to love again. Even the thought of that was a betrayal to the memory of the only mech he was sure he had ever loved. But was it? Was it really?

Perhaps it was time to move forward.

The trio worked in silence. It was not an uncomfortable sort of silence. There was no tension to it, no threat of violence or punishment of any kind. If Starscream messed up, he messed up. Mistakes were made and mistakes were corrected. Mistakes were not... punished. That was a rather unfamiliar concept but he would be lying if he said he did not greatly prefer it to before. It was a comfortable sort of silence and for the first time in too long, his servos were not shaking and his spark was not pounding.

. . .

The contraption that carried Laserbeak's transponder within it was able to fly - and to fly toward the Nemesis. Laserbeak would lead them right to the prize - the Omega Lock, now being rebuilt upon that very ship. Starscream wings twitched anxiously. He did not want to do this again - did not want to hope beyond hope that there would be a future for Cybertron, only for the possibility to be snatched away. But what was there to do if not hope?

"Won't the 'Cons see you coming, big guy?" Miko questioned. 

"Not until it's too late," Bulkhead said.

"We'll be prepared for immediate mobilization upon your command, sir," Ultra Magnus said.

"Good luck, Optimus," Smokescreen added.

Starscream chose that moment to make his presence known. "And good luck to me as well, I would assume?"

Several pairs of optics turned to look at him. He stood up straight, flexing his digits. "I know the Decepticons far too well, I can assure you. There is no one who can best me in the air, and I'd imagine too much hinges on our success to risk sending our dear leader alone," Starscream said. His logic was apparently sound, because Ultra Magnus gave him a short nod of affirmation.

"Whatever the outcome, know that Ratchet would be most proud of your contribution," Optimus said to Raf.

Optimus and Starscream turned away from the others. In less than a klik he would be in the air again, heading back to the last place he wanted to go. But it was different this time. What drove Starscream was not fear or desperation, but rather his own choice. His own volition. This was a choice he made for himself, and that was a freedom that he would never again take for granted. "Much has changed since you defected from the Decepticons," Optimus said to him. "You have proven both your selflessness and your capacity for change, Starscream. There may be progress yet to be made, but know that I see and commend the strides you have made toward redemption."

Starscream smiled a little, despite himself. It was... Someone was telling him that they were proud of him. And it made him feel so warm and soft inside, and for once, that did not feel like a weakness.

Behind them, the transponder was launched into the air, flying rapidly skyward, smoke trailing behind him. Optimus flew after it and Starscream transformed, following. The transponder was not hard to track in the air - it did not take sharp turns, nor did it go particularly fast. Starscream found himself tailing it at a comfortable pace, wings gliding smoothly through the air. Part of him was still anxious, but he tried his best to tune out the emotions. Things would happen one step at a time, and he could not afford to get ahead of himself.

A few breems passed in silence. They kept pace with the transponder. It rarely dipped below the blanket of clouds beneath Starscream, and as such, its trail of smoke was very easy to follow. Soon, however, the sky grew dark as they passed through a storm. A flicker of unease ran through him as he remembered his last disastrous time flying through a storm... Not his proudest moment, certainly.

Thunder boomed and Starscream flinched a little, jerking slightly to the right. The sky was growing a dark, steel gray, making it hard to make out anything more than a few feet in front of him. At least Optimus's form remained visible. The transponder, however, small as it was, had far too low visibility. Only the occasional lightning flash confirmed that they were still on the right track. Fat raindrops began to fall from the sky, landing on silver wingtips.

Suddenly, Starscream spotted another shape streaking through the sky. Multiple shapes, actually. He turned slightly to get a better glimpse and that only confirmed his fears - Vehicons. He commed Optimus, not willing to reveal his location to the other fliers. We have unfortunate company. Follow the transponder and I will distract them and catch up later. Transponder is too important for both of us to engage.

Starscream stopped in mid-air and powered up his thrusters, shooting himself straight upwards. He fired on the Vehicons from above, the rain and clouds making it difficult to see and aim. It didn't take long for them to begin to return fire. Starscream rolled and veered, launching himself forward through the storm in the last direction he had seen the transponder go in. The Vehicons fell into formation, hot on his tail, their blasts unrelenting.

He stopped, hovering for a few nano-kliks, before continuing forward, angling himself upwards. He shot up vertically, spinning in a short corkscrew motion. Starscream reversed direction and rains his fire down again, aided by his gained altitude. Several shots hit their marks and a few Vehicons went tumbling down through the rough, stormy sky. He wasted no time changing his direction again, shooting forward once more.

He dipped below the pursuing Vehicons, out of their sights. It would not take them long to notice but the time he had bought himself was invaluable. Starscream fired again rapidly, one round after another with no pause or anything resembling hesitation. His shots hit, just as intended - and for good measure, he sent his two missiles back behind him, trusting them to hit their targets. He did one more spin in mid-air before revving up his engine and darting forward, leaving a sharp, loud boom! in his wake.

Can anyone hear me? came a voice in Starscream's commlink. He nearly fell out of the air in shock - Ratchet! Listen to me, Megatron has managed to rebuild the Omega Lock onboard his warship. I've deactivated the Decepticon shielding system. You should be able to get a fix on my coordinates. Optimus, you must hurry. Megatron is preparing to cyberform Earth as we speak. The comm cut into static there.

Starscream ignored his churning emotions and continued forward through the dark sky, dodging a lightning bolt to his right. The Omega Lock was rebuilt. Somehow, in some way. That didn't matter. All that did was that the Omega Lock was back. Cybertron had a chance to live again. Vos had a chance to live again. He felt almost elated with joy, but things were far from over. The Omega Lock had to be wrested from Megatron's servos.

Not just for the sake of Earth, but for the sake of Cybertron's future as well. A Cybertron born again under Decepticon rule would simply mean a planet destroyed a second time and a society with scars deeper than the ones they had torn down so many vorns ago. A Decepticon future for Cybertron meant no future at all. The Lock could not be trusted under Decepticon control - such control meant the complete and utter end of seeing any sort of hope of a peaceful, habitable Cybertron.

Autobots, lock onto those coordinates and prepare to storm the warship. It has been my honor to lead you. On this day, the fate of two worlds hang in the balance and the battle to come may very well be our last. But for Earth and for Cybertron, for our comrade Ratchet, we must take the Decepticon warship! 

The coordinates were commed to him. Starscream logged them immediately and set a course. Starscream en-route, ten kliks, he commed.

This was the end. One way or the other, this was the end. He could feel it somewhere deep and unexplainable. This was the end.

Everything he had fought for, everything he had lost, everything he had still yet to lose... It all came together here and now. One last time, in one last grand symphony. Starscream knew what he had to do and for once it did not fill him with icy-cold fear. The only thing in him was steely resolve. He would do what he needed to do to ensure that there was a future for Cybertron, for Vos, and for him.

He needed to make things right. He needed to live again. And for that, Cybertron could not fall into Decepticon hands.

How much things had changed. How much they still could change. How much they would change in the future.

Starscream had lost enough to this war. He could still lose more. But he was not going to run, though he could have. For once he was not going to run because today decided the fate of his world and his species and above all else, it decided his fate. Every choice he had made had led down to this moment. Starscream could not squander it. He fought not for his own survival but for the honor and for the sake of his seekers, lost to time and lost to war and lost to battle, for the sake of his city that he truly believed could rise again, lost to time and lost to war and lost to battle, and for the sake of Skyfire who would have wanted him, above all else, to be happy.

And he fought for himself, who was not yet lost to time, not yet lost to war, not yet lost to battle.

Chapter Text

The Nemesis loomed up in front of Starscream. The oxygen up here was non-existent - any human jet's thrusters would have failed, but his flames needed no air to burn. The ship was just as massive and dark and twisted as he remembered it, cutting through the dark void of space. And hanging below it was an enormous metal ring, supported by four pillars, armored with steel and cannons. The Omega Lock. Or, at least, the new one.

The structure made even Cybertronians look small - the Vehicons that stopped to land on it seemed like insects from Starscream's point of view. He was hovering some distance away, his back to Earth. The planet seemed so different from up in space - a marble of green and blue, so large and yet so fragile. It's fate, too, hung in a balance that was far too delicate to be risked. Starscream could not say he particularly cared for it, but a sentient species called it home, and he understood the pain of losing one's home. A pain that he would not wish on anyone.

Starscream heard blaster fire above him. He chose that moment to engage - there was no way he could destroy or take control of the massive Lock by himself. Not to mention that without a ship connected to it, there was no way to move it away from Earth and toward Cybertron. He shot upwards with a quick corkscrew motion, wings slicing through the darkness of space. Above him, purple Vehicons rained fire down on several small shapes - the Autobots, on the deck of the Nemesis. Here already?

The Omega Lock's control station is located on the lower deck. I am making my way there now, Ratchet commed. Starscream felt beyond grateful that he had had his commlink hooked up to the Autobot one - otherwise he would have been flying blind, even more so than he already was. He flew upwards and then jerked himself to a halt. He swooped downwards, returning fire on the Vehicons. Starscream gained speed rapidly, and the deck of the Nemesis and the other mechs there grew closer - he saw Bumblebee, Smokescreen, and Arcee - the others must have gone below the deck already.

Several of his shots hit, but others missed. It did not take long for fire to be returned. He ducked and weaved, missing some by mere inches. When the cold steel deck was mere feet away, Starscream swooped down low, parallel to it, and then spun himself back up, gaining altitude. He was able to get a much clearer view of his opponents - and with the time it took for them to climb up to where he was, it was easy to pick them off, one by one.

Copy, Ratchet, came Optimus's voice. We will rendezvous at the objective. Arcee, lead stealth team to secure the Omega Lock. Ultra Magnus, you and the Wreckers storm the bridge. Prevent the Decepticons from targeting the device if stealth team is delayed.

Starscream switched his comms off momentarily. He could not afford a single break in his concentration. His increasing altitude drew the attention of the Vehicons, and it did not take long for them to engage him rather than the Autobots. He watched as they disappeared down into the ship, the panel closing behind them. Good. Starscream soared up even higher, thrusters spitting fire and smoke and ash. He spun himself around to face the Vehicons, doing a slight corkscrew to avoid their purple blasts. 

He shot back, hitting two of them with one bullet. Starscream dove sharply downwards, turning and spinning in mid-air to switch the angle of his shots. Every single one hit something important - they must have, since the Vehicons went down smoking, plating charred and shattered. Starscream stopped himself mid-dive, hovering. The Autobots had gone into the ship unopposed, and it would not be long before reinforcements were called to stop him. Both factions knew just how dire and volatile the situation was, and no chances whatsoever would be taken.

He transformed and fell for a few nano-kliks, hitting the metal of the deck hard. Starscream was just about to remove the panel again and descend back into what he could only describe as the belly of the beast when he saw Optimus. He was flying up toward the Nemesis, dodging rapid blaster fire, trailing two twin streaks of smoke. Starscream took a step back in shock at the figure descending off the top of the ship to meet the Autobot leader in midair - Megatron.

His spark nearly stopped. Even now he was afraid. Even now his knees felt weak and his spark was pounding and pounding. Part of him wanted to transform and fly as far away as possible as fast as possible. Starscream was so afraid that he felt weak and faint. The distinct urge to purge his tanks of everything in them struck him. He was going to - He - He had to - run - hide - do something - anything -

No. Starscream was going to fight and he was going to stand his ground. He was done running, now and always.

Megatron unsheathed a gleaming purple blade - the dark Star Saber, which he evidently still possessed - and slashed it through the air, letting loose a wave of purple energy. Starscream could not have gotten there fast enough and he was still too frozen and panicked to do anything at all. As he watched helplessly, the wave of energy connected with Optimus, knocking him off course. Megatron transformed in midair and flew back up towards the Nemesis - and toward it's deck, where Starscream was. Optimus caught onto one of the jagged, sharp fins of the Nemesis, metal scraping metal in a flurry of sparks.

Secure the control room, Optimus commed him in lieu of words - they were too far apart to hear anything other than blaster fire. That is the most important thing.

Starscream couldn't argue with that logic. And perhaps he was selfish for it, but he would rather offline than stare down the barrel of that fusion cannon ever again. He did not want to face Megatron - not at all. He was still scared. So, so terribly and incredibly scared. There as more he could lose, and Starscream was not keen on losing that. So he turned away and ran as quickly as he could toward the exit of the deck, sliding down it and landing into a familiar wide, empty hallway.

The control room. Starscream had to get to the control room and meet up with the Wreckers there. Stationed in the lower deck. He made his way as quickly and quietly down as possible. Starscream made short work of the Vehicons he did encounter and every muffled blaster fire coming from elsewhere on the ship, every sharp pedestep made his spark pound and ache with fear. He could not help but think, despite everything, that Knockout was somewhere on this ship, most likely aware that he was here too. If Starscream saw him - and there was a chance that he would - what would he say? What was there to say, now that they were on opposite sides of a war that was about to end?

Starscream faced relatively little resistance on his way down to the lower decks. He chose the paths and hallways less traveled, careful to duck behind pillars where he could and sneak through little-used supply rooms whenever possible. A fight would reveal his location and this ship was crawling with more Decepticons than Starscream cared to fight. He kept his missiles aimed in front of him, but there was no need.

Finally, he reached the lower decks. Starscream walked through the suspiciously quiet halls for several kliks before he spotted the familiar, brightly colored paintjobs of the Wreckers. Behind you, he commed, not wanting to break their element of surprise. His anxiety lessened slightly in the presence of allies - but it remained still. How could it not, when everything was in danger and there were still so many more things that could go wrong?

"That door," Starscream said, pointing up ahead, where the hallway turned a corner. It was guarded by four Vehicons - more than any other place on the ship that he had passed thus far. Possibly every spare Vehicon was trying to stop the Autobots elsewhere on the ship.

Ultra Magnus gave him a nod as he, Starscream, Bulkhead, and Wheeljack turned the corner. Before Starscream had even fired a shot, the other three had taken care of the Vehicons - impressive, he had to admit. There were no words spoken - there was no need, and he suspected that like him, the others were far too wired up and anxious. The door slid open with the push of a button.

The control room resembled any other command room on the Nemesis - and inside more Vehicons awaited them. Starscream opened fire, not waiting for the signal of his companions. Fire was returned and exchanged - but the inside of the room was not excessively guarded, and the Decepticons fell to the ground, plating smoking, rather fast. Which left one mech standing in front of them, blank visor staring them down. Soundwave.

An image of the Nemesis popped up on his visor and Starscream knew what was about to happen - one of his little relocation tricks. Clever but predictable, although there was nothing anyone could do about it. "Stop!" he shouted - and the graphic on Soundwave's visor paused as he tilted his helm, regarding Starscream.

"Let us do this," Starscream hissed. "Has the war not lasted long enough? Have we not suffered enough? I trust that you see reason, Soundwave - you're a smart mech, after all. There is no reason for the war to keep going on, not when we no longer even have anything to fight for. It could end today. It could end with a Cybertron that can move forward rather than one that will just repeat the exact same cycle."

"Soundwave - loyal," he replied, splicing together two different recordings of Megatron. This time, Starscream hardly even flinched at his former master's voice.

"Who are you loyal to? The Decepticon cause, I would hope. The cause that believed in a Cybertron where everyone would be equal regardless of who they were. The cause that Megatron lost vorns ago - But I shouldn't have to explain that to you. You know, Soundwave, I know you do. Is there any sense in clinging onto your loyalty to one mech when you know that he will doom the future of our entire species? The moment Cybertron is regained, it will be lost again, or made into something so horrific we would wish that it had been lost again." Starscream kept his voice calm and level, silently urging the Autobots to let him finish before shooting.

"Megatron - will - create - a new, better world," Soundwave said, this time playing clips from a speech Megatron had made during the early days of the revolution, when it was just a handful of gladiators and miners huddled into a dirty bar in Kaon. When he had just recently become Winglord, standing in a dark corner, listening out of interest for what some said was a movement that would change Cybertron forever. In those days, they had said that it would change Cybertron for the better. How funny. And how ironic.

"Do you really believe that? Don't be stupid!"

Soundwave stared at him for several very long moments. "Soundwave - not - a traitor. However - Soundwave - loyal to the Decepticon cause. Decepticon cause - lost already. Conclusion - Soundwave - loyal - to nothing. Soundwave - has - nothing." He had spliced together recordings from more places than Starscream cared to count. 

"That makes two of us," he said. "But there's always more to lose, right? And that will be lost if Megatron is allowed to have both Earth and Cybertron has his personal little playgrounds. He doesn't care about our cause anymore. He only cares about himself, and what he wants is something no one else wants."

More silence. And then - and then - Soundwave stepped aside.

And the control room was theirs.

But there was no time to celebrate. "Shockwave - can - remotely trigger the Omega Lock to activate," Soundwave said. "Only way forward - regain control of - Omega Lock."

Starscream's energon ran cold. Of course there would be a back-up plan. And of course Shockwave would have some degree of control over his own creation. "I'm going to the Lock," he said. He did not wait for anyone else's response. He did not have time.

He would not sit idly by and wait for the fate of everything - and his own fate - to be determined. Starscream slammed the door open and descended as quickly as he could. The Lock was just past the lower decks. If Starscream got there soon... 

Not everything was lost. There was still a chance.

A chance that he had to ensure would not be lost.

. . .

The few kliks that it took to get to the top of the metal ring that supported the Omega Lock were easily the most stressful kliks of Starscream's entire existence. Not trusting his pedes at all, he transformed and sped through the wide, empty hallways. He knew these hallways. Knew the memories within them. Knew the pain within them. His own pain. His own suffering.

Starscream transformed back the moment he saw the open door - and what lay before his optics. Stretched out across the infinite vastness of space was the sprawling, reconstructed Omega Lock, supporting by four enormous pillars. It glowed blue, churning and swirling. It was filled with otherworldly energy, energy that Starscream could not quite place. It was alien and strange and yet so, so familiar. No matter what it was, it was the key to Cybertron's future. The only key to it.

He sprinted out of one of the many doorways that led to the top of the Omega Lock just as Smokescreen exited another holding the - "The Star Saber?" he said. "Where did you -"

"Storage," Smokescreen said with a grin. "It was just laying there."

Below them, Megatron and Optimus, two shapes that seemed impossibly small from his vantage point, exchanging blows. They matched each other perfectly, pedestep for pedestep, movement for movement. Around the rim of the Omega Lock, Ratchet and Shockwave fought - good. Distracted, there was no way Shockwave could do anything to the Lock - but maybe it was too late for that. The Lock was already activated and the moment someone got a spare moment to take control of it - well, Earth was right below them, positioned perfectly. Arcee and Bumblebee were occupied with the Vehicons. They were outnumbered, as always, but it did not seem to be a problem. 

"Optimus, catch!" Smokescreen shouted, preparing to toss the sword up into the air.

"Smokescreen!" Ratchet and Starscream shouted at the same time, both seeing the blast aimed at him from Shockwave's cannon. It collided with his chassis head-on, sending sparks flying and shoving him several paces into the wall, hard enough to make it crack. The Star Saber landed some ways away, clattering to a halt.

Several pairs of optics locked onto where the Star Saber was laying. It could very well make or break the fight below them - the fight that would determine everything. The Decepticons would not stop fighting until Megatron was offline, and there was still the control room in the lower decks, as well as whatever mechanism Shockwave had triggered to activate the Lock. Arcee and Bumblebee fired a few final shots at the Vehicons and turned around, running for the Star Saber just as he did. They were pursued by the remaining Vehicons, all after the same thing. Across the wide, enormous ring of metal, Shockwave broke into a run as well.

Starscream turned around and returned fire, picking off the Vehicons one by one from where he stood several feet away, covering Bumblebee, who was getting close to the Saber and - Shockwave! He aimed a blast from his cannon and - Bumblebee sailed over it smoothly, hitting Shockwave square in the eye. He caught the Star Saber as it fell through the air and wasted no time beginning to descend from one of the pillars to where Optimus was.

"Cover him!" Arcee shouted. "I'll take care of the Vehicons."

Starscream nodded in assent - no time for words. He fired one last shot and transformed, firing up his engines to go as fast as he could. He followed Bumblebee, circling the upper rim of the Omega Lock before diving sharply downwards. Bumblebee followed closely. Below them, Megatron and Optimus were still fighting, at a clear stalemate - the dark Star Saber had been discarded at some point, and all the two mechs had now were their own frames.

"Optimus, you must use the Saber to destroy the Omega Lock. It is the only way to save Earth!" Ratchet said from above them.

Ordinarily, Starscream would have protested - the Lock could not be destroyed a second time. A second chance to revive Cybertron could not be squandered for the sake of an alien planet. But there was a sense of urgency thrumming through him like there never had been before. He streaked rapidly downwards, feeling as if this was the single most important thing that he would ever do. And it probably was. 

"Up here!" Bumblebee said. Still clutching the Star Saber, he gave a running jump and leapt off the pillar. Megatron's helm snapped up and he shoved Optimus to the side with renewed vigor, aiming his fusion cannon. Starscream heard it firing up.

The world stopped and slowed and tilted. No, no, no. No! Several purple blasts whistled through the air toward Bumblebee. It was too late for him to change direction or to divert the blasts. He held the Star Saber. The very weapon that would give Optimus an edge over Megatron. And therefore, the very weapon on which Cybertron's fate depended. It could not be lost. The fusion cannon's blasts could not hit Bumblebee.

If it did, Cybertron was lost. Vos was lost. For good, this time. Bumblebee had to live and the Star Saber had to be in Optimus Prime's servo.

Starscream veered right rapidly, as fast as he could. His thrusters spit pure fire and smoke. He transformed in midair, slamming the full weight of his frame into Bumblebee, knocking both him and the Star Saber off course. The scrape of their plating against each other was slow. The purple fire racing toward him was slow. Bumblebee, letting go of the Star Saber from the force of the collision, was slow.

Everything was slow.

The world slowed.

So this was it, then. This was how it ended. How it really ended. At the receiving end of Megatron's fusion cannon once more. But this was Starscream's own choice. This was of his own volition.

He had been starved of energon, injured, shot at, blown out of the sky, faced with insurmountable odds, all for the freedom to choose for himself. 

He had chosen to leave the Decepticons.

He had chosen to remove his tracker.

He had chosen to remove his insignia.

He had chosen to risk his own spark to recover the datapad that reminded him of what he had lost and what he had fought for.

He had chosen to turn around and refuse to help MECH.

He had chosen to help Bulkhead get off the Nemesis.

He had chosen to help Smokescreen.

He had chosen to help the Autobots find the relics.

He had chosen to fight for the Omega Lock and fight for a future where Vos could rise again.

He had chosen to stay behind in the burning base of his former enemies, faced with certain death.

He had chosen to continue onwards, even after losing everything.

He had chosen to make things right with Knockout before it was too late.

And now, Starscream chose this.

He had not been a good mech, not by any stretch of the imagination. Starscream had done terrible things. There was no changing that, and now he would take that to the Allspark. Primus would judge him and if he so deemed it, Starscream would see Skyfire and Thundercracker and Skywarp again. Or he would go to the pit and he would face what he had done and the choices he had made.

But whatever the case, this life was no more. And Starscream had made peace with that. He had chosen to do the right thing in the very end. Perhaps it was not enough. Perhaps it never would be. But he had chosen freedom, and with tha, he had chosen for the fusion cannon to hit him instead.

And it did.

Something hot and powerful collided with Starscream's chassis. It tore through his spark chamber, and then closed silvery claws around his spark. He watched as he fell. Watched the shocked faces of his comrades. Watched Megatron's smirk as he thought he had finally won. Watched the cherry mech that burst out of one of the hallways, optics fixed on him as he fell.

Before you learned how to fly, you had to learn how to fall. And Starscream knew how to fall.

Falling was not a bad thing. You fell so that you could fly. And one day you would fall one last time so that you could fly one last time.

So Starscream fell.

He felt his optics flicker and flicker and then begin to dim. The world faded in and out of focus. It had been a bitter, broken world, hadn't it? Starscream had suffered, more than he cared to think about. But it had been a beautiful, brilliant world too, hadn't it? Had he not been happy? Had he not found peace? Joy? Had it not been a bitter, broken, beautiful, brilliant world? Had it not been a bitter, broken, beautiful, brilliant life?

Starscream's optics dimmed shut and the world went dark.

His back plates collided with the silvery coolness of the Omega Lock. Something warm flooded through every seam of his frame, through every energon line, through every organ and into his shattered spark chamber. It was like nothing Starscream had ever felt before - the warmth of an embrace and the burn of engex and the adrenaline of a fight and the thrill of flying all wrapped up into one wonderfully warm feeling.

It held him. It embraced him. It cradled him. It asked him to be still. It asked him to be at peace. It asked him to fall before he could fly. 

So Starscream fell.

His slender silver frame had been his for vorns. Every replaced metal plate, every replaced part and bolt and screw and gear, had been his for vorns. Every time Megatron tore him apart, he was put back together. But it was not him. It was not really him.

Starscream may have forgotten. But his frame remembered. Primus remembered. And the Lock remembered.

He felt his frame tear itself apart, plating sliding loose, gears churning and clicking. His spark chamber tore itself into pieces again. He heard nothing and he saw nothing and he felt nothing. Starscream simply fell through infinite darkness. 

Until his plating slid tight again. Gears and bolts and parts clicked smoothly into place. Something soft and warm fixed itself over his spark. And Starscream's optics snapped open.

His frame did not ache anymore. His own frame did not betray him anymore, nor did it fight him. His frame was his own again.

Four steel gray wings streaked with red tore themselves out of his back, stretching up and outwards, aching for the sky. Starscream's plating transformed and popped outwards, growing thicker and stronger, all strong graphite gray ran through with electric blue. He looked down at his chassis and saw that it was now a bright ruby red, from his unmarked chestplate down to his pelvic plating. The plating of his legs and pedes, too, clicked and whirred and slid in and out of place, thickening and strengthening. Shiny silver plates slid inwards, hiding themselves, while sky-blue, azure plating popped outwards, clicking cleanly into place.

His frame remembered. It remembered who he used to be. It remembered who he still was. It remembered the mech he had forgotten in the arctic winds of Earth, in the Academy at Iacon, in the bombed-out ruins of Vos, in the rusted buildings of Kaon. It remembered the mech he had forgotten, the mech he had left behind. And it brought him back. It told him that he had fallen enough. It told him that it was time to fly.

Starscream transformed, t-cog whirring in his chassis. His smooth, shiny new plating slid into place breathtakingly smoothly - and he felt as if his frame belonged to him. Like it was an extension of himself. Like it was no longer his enemy. Like it was his. There were no imperfections to it, no part to it that needed to be taken out and fixed and replaced. Starscream shot upwards in time to watch Megatron slash the dark Star Saber through the air, releasing a wave of purple energy that hit Optimus square in the chassis. He was shoved through the air, colliding harshly with the metal of the rim of the Lock, skidding down it's edge. 

Megatron's back was turned. He raised the dark Star Saber high and -

Starscream's optics landed on the Star Saber where it had fallen out of Bumblebee's grasp. It still lay there, shiny and gleaming. And suddenly, he knew exactly what he had to do. Starscream grasped the handle sharply, struggling a little with its hefty weight and creeped up behind Megatron. Stabbing him in the back again - how fitting. 

Megatron prepared to bring his own blade down on Optimus. To end it all once and for all.

And Starscream drove the Star Saber through his spark chamber and straight out the other end. Right through the Decepticon insignia.

The last rays of blue light from the Omega Lock enclosed his new frame. He was met with the shocked optics of every gathered Autobot and Decepticon.

He could not help but smile. It was over. It was all over. Starscream would never again have to fear the mech who had robbed him of everything.

"You took everything from me," Starscream said. There was not even a slight tremor to his voice. "You will never take anything from anyone ever again."

Megatron raised the dark Star Saber, but it was already too late. Far too late. It fell out of his weak grasp and into the darkness of space, falling toward Earth.

Starscream was not afraid anymore. Megatron would not take more from him. Not ever again. Starscream looked up and held Megatron's gaze until his ruby red optics went dark and empty like the void behind him. 

Megatron's lifeless frame slid slowly off the end of the Star Saber, plummeting down and off the side of the Omega Lock.

Starscream watched as he fell. Watched as he fell and fell toward Earth. Watched as he began to burn. Starscream watched and watched and watched.

And it was done.

And it was over.

And he was free.

Chapter Text

Starscream watched as Megatron fell, then as he burned. It took a few kliks for his body to complete disappear from optic-view, plummeting toward one of Earth's energon blue oceans. He was dazed and rather out of it - he did nothing but stand there, letting the shiny Star Saber clatter to the ground. Behind him, Bumblebee climbed up from where he had fallen into the Omega Lock and Starscream dimly registered that his voicebox had been restored by the Lock. Just as his frame had been. Optimus was helped back up, Shockwave fled, and Starscream was met with the collective stunned silence of all of the Autobots.

He shuttered his optics a few times and let reality snap back to him, dousing over him like cold solvent. He had killed Megatron. He had really done it. For good, this time. Everything was done and over and alright and Starscream had lived long enough to see that happen. He looked down at himself - looked down at his larger, thicker frame, at the bright colors that adorned it. It was unfamiliar now, but he knew that it was his old frame - a plate by plate remake of it.

"Optimus Prime to all units. Megatron is no more. The war is over," Optimus said.

And it was. It was over. It was really, truly over.

Before Starscream could continue processing anything, there were bots all around him and their words - they were kind and they were soft and they were - all muddled together. He wanted somewhere cold and dark and silent to be alone. It was all far too much. Because the war was over and it was all over and part of him refused to believe that. He did not need the noise and the celebratory chaos all around him - he just needed - wanted - silence. Starscream did not want company, not at that moment, not when his spark was still seizing up with fear for a threat that was currently sitting at the bottom of Earth's ocean.

He needed time. To think about the broken cause that he had served blindly, the broken cause that he had taken upon himself to end. To think about all that had happened - all that had ended. Starscream had killed Megatron, but he did not want to dwell on that any longer. Did he want to dwell on anything any longer? No. He wanted to move on as quickly as possible and forget the last millenia had ever happened, had ever existed. Starscream wanted to move on and pretend that he had no energon at all on his servos.

"The Omega Lock is under our control. I propose that we put it to good use," Ratchet said, thankfully saving Starscream from having to respond to or acknowledge anyone at all.

"Agreed, old friend," Optimus said. "Ultra Magnus, set course for Cybertron."

Starscream turned away to - he wasn't sure where he was going. But he knew who he was looking for.

"Starscream," Optimus called before he could leave. "Today, you have shown commendable bravery on behalf of your planet and species. If there is anything that -"

He shook his head. "The only thing I want is for it to be over," he said, and he was not lying for once.

. . .

Starscream found Knockout on the lower decks of the ship, clearly packing his belongings to lock himself into a long-distance escape pod and go as far away as possible as fast as possible. He stood in the doorway of the room, looking inside, not saying anything. He had not been in Knockout's room before, but it was just as he had imagined it - cluttered with all kinds of little objects and trinkets, from Earth and Cybertron alike. It told a bitter story of the scraps of happiness that could be found in between millenia of warfare. But his room looked lived in. Unlike Starscream's. One of them had found a place to belong. The other had not.

"You're leaving," Starscream said. All the clever things he had thought of to say had mysteriously left his processor.

Knockout whipped around and then visibly relaxed at the sound of his voice. His optics went wide at the sight of Starscream's new, decidedly more shiny, frame. "You're looking rather... vibrant," Knockout said. "I have to say, I like it to the old one."

Against his will, his faceplates headed up and he blushed slightly. "The work of the Omega Lock," he replied. "And - well, Megatron is dead."

"Doesn't take a genius to know, Commander. I did see you skewer him like a kabob with my own optics, after all."

"Skewer him like a what?"

"A kabob. A human food. Dead organic material shoved onto a metal stick," Knockout said without looking up, shoving more things into his subspace.

Well, that was morbid, although not entirely inaccurate. "The war is over," he continued. "Has been for a while, given that we've had nothing to fight for for... some time now, I suppose.'

"Unlike your great and noble aft, not all of us are on the winning side, in case you haven't noticed," the other mech said ruefully. "I'm not exactly going to wait around and see what your precious Autobots have in store for me."

"Where are you going to go? Cybertron is about to be revived, and you plan on leaving it? Don't be stupid, Knockout!"

"You don't be stupid. There'll probably be some high and shiny position for you, but there's not going to be any place there for mechs like me. I'm still a Decepticon and that never changed. That doesn't change."

"There will be a place for you. There will be a place for anyone who's willing to ask for it," Starscream snapped. "That is the point ore building. The point is that there's so few of us that it doesn't matter who returns to Cybertron, just that they return."

"Oh, so we're handing out pardons to war criminals like energon sweets to sparklings now? Maybe that'll float in your boat, but not in our glorious new government's! I don't know about you, Starscream, but I value my own spark. I didn't survive a millenia-long war just to rust away in some prison cell for the rest of eternity!"

"I just gave myself a new future. I just gave us a new future. I -"

"Do you want a medal or something? Let me scamper off to some backwater planet in peace, Starscream."

"We have a future now. Don't throw it away."

"You mean you have a future. I don't - there's no changing the fact that one of us is on the right side of history and the other isn't. Don't tell me you've gone too soft to realize that," Knockout said.

"Of course I know that. But there's a future for you if only you wouldn't be a coward and fight for it. Don't just leave when everything is coming together again. Don't leave. Don't be like me and leave."

"Since when have you cared?"

"I didn't. That was - that was - I made mistakes, alright? I'm trying to fix them, in case you haven't noticed," Starscream replied.

Knockout stood up, spinal strut straightening, and looked him in the optic. "You're not doing a terribly good job of it."

"Then give me a chance. That's not going to come if you just leave. They'll treat you fairly. They treated me fairly. They're not like - they're not like us."

Two pairs of ruby red optics stared into each other. So much between them. So much pain and anger and bitterness. So much that the war had robbed them both of. How was one to go on when they had spent more vorns of their life fighting than not? How was one to go on when that was all they knew? How was one to forget the pain and run from its tight, spiked embrace when that was all they knew?

Starscream had too many questions and not enough answers. He suspected that for many of those questions, they would never have answers. But he was glad - so, so glad - that he was online to search for those answers. 

Knockout let whatever it was that he was holding clatter to the ground. He glanced backwards at the room, and then forward at Starscream. "You always have terrible ideas."

"Are you any better? You're the one who somehow turned half the Decepticon army into reanimated corpses!"

"I'll indulge you, Starscream. For old time's sake, or whatever other sentimental bullscrap you want me to spew. There is no future for me. I've accepted that. But if you haven't, I'll let you give it a try."

Starscream looked at the cherry mech - at his friend. They both went quiet for a moment. They both did not how to move on. But perhaps the bitter, broken shards of the past could be sweeped aside. Perhaps they could do that together. Perhaps they could forget it all together.

"I'm glad," was all he said.

. . .

Knockout and Starscream made their way to one of the command rooms of the lower decks, with gigantic glass windows, in time for the Nemesis to exit the spacebridge. Cybertron loomed up in front of them, rusted and long-dead. Part of him wanted to rejoin the Autobots even further below, on the rim of the restored Omega Lock, but he was not ready. Try as he might, Starscream doubted he would truly ever be one of them, and his freedom was the one thing he had sworn to himself would always be his. His chestplate would remain smooth and unvarnished until he joined the Allspark. And whatever was between him and Knockout now was too fragile to risk destroying. Not when it had just blossomed.

Below them, Starscream could hear the Omega Lock charging up again. It was a familiar, mechanical sound, like a transformation sequence. And perhaps that was what it was - a transformation. Turning one thing into another. Turning over the past and flipping it to the shiny, golden present. Which in turn could turn over into the future - but only if they allowed it to. Otherwise, it was far too easy to remain stagnant and trapped, thinking that there was no way out.

A ray of blue light, enormous and glowing brighter than anything Starscream had ever seen, shot out from the Nemesis. It cut through the cold, dark void of space, lighting it all up so impossibly bright. From this vantage point, everything was awash in light, golden and glimmering. From this vantage point, it seemed that anything - anything - was possible. From this vantage point, the future was almost - almost - close enough to touch.

The light from the Omega Lock collided with what Starscream recognized as the Well of Allsparks. It descended, slow at first, and then faster and faster, into the very core of Cybertron. Starscream was, for once, speechless. He was witnessing history, he knew, and yet a suspicious amount of his processor dwelled only on the mech beside him. The light vanished completely and blinked shut for a few nano-kliks.

And then - and then -

Blue light flowed through every seam, through every vein, through every indentation of Cybertron's surface. A deep, ethereal light that came from the planet's core itself, from Primus himself. The light of life, of possibility, flowing once again through the planet they had all thought had been lost for good. This was what Starscream had lived for. This was what Starscream had fought for. A far-off dream, now a reality.

And Cybertron rose again, awash in blue light, awash in the energon-blue rays of the future. And Cybertron rose again, and with it rose something that Starscream could finally live for. And Cybertron rose again, and with it, possibility beyond the eternal cycle of violence and bloodshed. And Cybertron rose again.

Starscream felt digits brushing his own. And then a cool servo wrapping around his own, squeezing gently. Starscream did not bother to look, nor to speak. There was no words necessary. And there was something beyond words that hung between them, golden and brilliant. His digits intertwined with Knockout's perfectly, slipping together like the most perfect of fits. In front of them, Cybertron blossomed again, the raw blue light of life pulsing through every single inch.

"Such... luster," Knockout breathed. "Much like yourself, Starscream."

He squeezed back harder. And Starscream felt a little bold. "You're not bad yourself," he said, and though the ship was pleasantly cool, his faceplates heated up again.

The only response was Knockout tilting his helm to rest in the crook of his neck, cool and heavy. Starscream leaned into the touch and his helm rested on top of the other mech's.

They slipped together like the most perfect of fits.

Chapter Text

i.

This is a broadcast to all remaining Decepticon units. I advise you to listen, if you value your spark and your future. I'm certain you all know who I am, but for the sake of those history textbooks, my name is Starscream, former Second-in-Command and Air Commander of the Decepticons and Winglord of Vos. You have all been scattered to the distant stars for far too long, fighting little pockets of war, waiting on news from High Command, I am sure. Well, here is what you have been waiting for.

Megatron is dead. The war is over. Cybertron lives again and flows once more with life. It is under Autobot control, and I know full well what this looks like. Another trick, to destroy the Decepticon faction once and for all. It is true that there are no Autobots and no Decepticons any longer - only Cybertronians. Our numbers are small enough as is and I trust that any mech listening can see the sense in a ceasefire, now that our leader is dead and Cybertron survives again. It will certainly not survive another war.

I simply ask for the chance to make my case, as the highest ranking Decepticon officer currently online. I have cooperated with the Autobots and I am certain that I am acting in the best interests of of our faction. It has been many millenia of combat - and I am sure that you have lost friends, Conjunxes, trines, family, homes, and much, much more. As it stands, I am the only seeker currently online and my trine has been offline for vorns. I understand your loss, and I feel it as sorely as you do. The war has taken too much from us - from us all. The one thing that unites us with the Autobots is that, I am sure, we are all tired. Very, very tired.

I harbor no illusions that our new society will be perfect. Perhaps it will be flawed. Perhaps it will be unfair. How can it not be, when it rises from the ashes of the war that destroyed our home and has so nearly destroyed us? But I wonder if we have all lost sight of our cause - our original cause. To make Cybertron a better world where every mech will be free regardless of anything at all, where every mech will have the freedom to choose for themself what they want and what their destiny is to be. It seems far off now, after so many vorns of war and so much lost and so little gained.

But I am here to say, to my utmost certainty, that that dream is now more close than ever to becoming a reality. I doubt that any of you will be happy to cooperate with the ones we have fought for so long. I certainly was not. But cooperation is the only way forward for a people that has become so splintered and divided already. There are so few of us left that more fighting would end us all for good. 

I declare, today, that the Decepticon faction is no more. For all intents and purposes, the Autobots control our home world, Megatron is dead, I have surrendered, and so have the remaining members of High Command aboard the Nemesis. I cannot say that this would have aligned with our late leader's wishes. But for once when I look to the stars and think of those who are listening to me now, standing in the ruins of Iacon, I do not see soldiers. I see my own people, who have fought for so long and have gained so little. 

And I say to them, come home. To the home that lives again.

A place in whatever new society will be built is promised to all those who return. Actions will not go unpunished, but chances will be offered for all those willing to return and take them. It is only fair, I imagine. We have lost this war and we have razed destruction upon each other for too long. These are the consequences of our actions, and had we won the war, I am certain that we would be far less merciful.

There is nothing I can say to force you to come home. I imagine that many of you will not, preferring to stay wherever you are, in whatever life you have built for yourself. I understand the need for peace and the need for solitude after so much pain and so much loss. But there is a new future being built on Cybertron as we speak, and the Decepticon faction, or what is left of it, will have a home there.

We are, after all, first and foremost, Cybertronians. Cybertronians who have a home once more. A place to return to.

I only ask that you give it a chance. There is nothing more I can swear upon but what remains of my honor and what remains of my duty to my own soldiers, and upon that I swear that these words are of my own free, independent volition, as the former Second-in-Command of the Decepticon army. And I repeat myself, perhaps into the void, perhaps into stardust, one last time.

Come home.

Please.

ii.

The spacebridge remained open for some time. Quite a lot of Cybertronian technology had been left behind on Earth, and with no Cybertronians there any longer, they were deemed to dangerous to leave on Earth and let fall into human hands. They had, after all, learned their fair share of lessons from MECH. With help from the human government and Ratchet on Earth, the smaller ships that detached off the sides of the Nemesis pulled every last remainder of their presence back to Cybertron, carrying with them energon from Earth's natural reserves.

It would take some time before energon flowed naturally and in abundance again, and it would take even longer to organize and find the tools necessary to drill for it, after all. And no one was keen to be in an energon shortage so soon after returning home. So soon after gaining everything back.

A surprising amount of Vehicons cooperated with the Autobots and in turn, they were granted at least temporary amnesty. The fact remained that Cybertron currently possessed neither the government nor the bureaucracy necessary to persecute anyone for their crimes. Crimes that Starscream knew would not be forgotten. He still had energon on his servos, after all. Still, the truth was, no one - not the remaining Decepticons nor the Autobots - were sure of how many Cybertronians were left scattered to the stars. There had been no communication between other Decepticons and those aboard the Nemesis for the duration of his stay there - which had lasted untold vorns.

Still, the occasional resurfacing of a bot wandering the cosmos, having finally landed on Earth, such as Dreadwing and Arachnid and, for the Autobots, Ultra Magnus, Smokescreen, and Wheeljack, meant that there was still hope. And the survival of Shockwave on Cybertron meant that there could still be pockets of civilization on their dead, desolate planet, making a life for themselves among the rusted wastes. Despite all the possibility and all the hope, their incredibly low numbers and an enormous planet that needed to be rebuilt from the ground up meant that every bot willing to cooperate was given a chance.

Starscream felt a stab of guilt thinking of all this as he sat on the deck of the Nemesis, pedes dangling off the edge. He had just returned from a scouting trip several miles north to search for any signs of life - their broadcasts had been shot into space, as well as all around the planet to anywhere they could transmit to. Starscream could cover the most distance, as a flier, and no one quite trusted the Vehicons enough to let them wander off alone. As usual, nothing. 

Megatron had really created a caste of nameless, faceless bots who were born to die, born to be his cannon fodder, born with no purpose but to blindly serve the Decepticon cause. For all that he had spoken of equality and the right of every bot to choose for themself their own fate, he had ultimately come full circle and become the one thing he had detested most. It was not like Starscream could stand on some pedestal and look down on his former master, either. He, too, had mistreated the Vehicons, had regarded them as nothing but mindless drones when in reality they were very much their own bots.

He took it upon himself to interact with them as much as possible and try to drill in the idea that they, too, were free now. That they could do whatever they wanted - be whoever they wanted. But it was hard.

It was hard to understand something you had never known. And Starscream was not just talking about the Vehicons.

iii.

The moment the Nemesis had touched down on the ruins of Cybertron, right outside where Iacon had once been, Starscream looked up and out the window, still clutching Knockout's servo. Their planet looked lifeless and dull here, not at all the planet that had once been teeming with life and civilization. "Do you think we will ever truly return to what we once were?" he asked quietly. Their world lived again, but it truly did not look like it.

"Of course not," Knockout said. "This place is going to be a nightmare to rebuild for your ragtag band of misfits. And besides, who would ever want to go back? What we were before is the reason we fought a million year war, Starscream."

He didn't bother to ask what the frag a year was. Starscream had never considered why Knockout had joined the Decepticons in the first place, nor why he had refused to leave the first time Starscream had offered. He himself had his personal reasons - a city bombed to dust and ash - and he suspected the other mech did, too. They all did. It was why they had fought for so long, even when the war had cost them close to everything.

"I hope we don't go back," he replied. "I hope things can be better. Does that make me naive?"

"Probably. Getting cuddly with those Autobots has made you soft. But I suppose we could all particularly use some hopefulness. After, you know, the war that nearly drove our species to extinction. That."

Starscream, despite himself, laughed. Soon the Autobots would come and he would have to deal with the fact that Knockout, by all accounts, had stuck with the Decepticons to the end. But soon was not now and for now, there was just the two of them in this endless, dreaming moment, a dead-alive planet stretching out before them.

He heard the swoop of wings and barely had time to react before the gigantic form of Predaking flew into view. He did not regard them, nor did he regard the Nemesis at all. Instead, he flew toward the horizon, toward Primus-knew-where. Starscream didn't know if he knew where to go, or what to do. But the Predacon was free now - free to be something other than what he had been made to be, free to choose for himself.

Wasn't that what they had all wanted? Wasn't that what they had all fought for? And now, that choice belonged to someone it hadn't before. On a planet that lived again.

Perhaps... perhaps there was hope yet.

And perhaps, Starscream thought, leaning a little against the cool, polished plating of his friend, there was hope yet for him.

iv.

Starscream went through the spacebridge one more time before it would be closed. It was not a permanent choice, after all - the bridge could be open again and Earth would be just a few kliks away. But it ate through their already limited energon already, so he took one more trip through it. Starscream flew through the cold, empty darkness of space, and then rapidly down through Earth's thick, humid atmosphere, streaking his wings with liquid.

He locked onto the coordinates that Smokescreen had sent him - close to the destroyed Autobot base. The place where he had once faced his own termination, determined to go down fighting once and for all. For all intents and purposes, Starscream was grateful that he had not offlined that day.

The sun gleamed off red and blue plating as he transformed back and landed, his landing heavier than before. He was still getting used to his new frame and his skill in the air remained unmatched, but he lacked the raw, artificial speed his old (new?) frame had come with. But Starscream did not care. There was no longer a war to fight, and there was no reason for him to be able to fly so fast. For that, he was very grateful.

He found himself on top of a tall plateau, overlooking an orange and red valley. The dusty desert of Earth stretched out before him like a painting, like a postcard. Starscream stared out at it for a moment. Although infuriating and quite literally Unicron's body, the planet certainly had its charms.

At last, he swallowed hard, turned around, and knelt down on the ground.

The grave was nearly unmarked, other than a mound of rock and the broken off piece of a metal horn. Starscream fought the nausea that rose within him, that urged him to purge his tanks. That was all they had recovered of Cliffjumper, because Starscream had torn him apart and then had him brought back to life, into something broken and sickening. It was one thing to kill another mech. It was another to desecrate their body like that when they were already with the Allspark.

"A lot has happened," he began, his voice small. I need to say this. Even just once. Even if there is no one listening. I need to say this. "I'd like to think that I've grown. That I've learned and changed. That I've become a better mech. That... that if I could go back in time, I wouldn't do what I did to you. But that's all excuses, isn't it? It's all well and good for me but that doesn't make you any less dead, Cliffjumper, and it certainly doesn't erase the fact that your friends lost you forever."

His optics felt wet with coolant and Starscream gritted his dentae. He had no right to cry. He had no right to be upset. Not when he had brought this all upon himself. "I'm sorry. I know what it is like to be helpless at the servos of another and to want nothing more than mercy, and then to have that denied. I know what it is like, and yet I subjected you to the same thing. I wish I could say I did not have a choice but there is always a choice. And what I did to you after... That is, in my optics, unforgivable.

"I will never forgive myself. I don't doubt that you would not forgive me, either. Your friends will never forgive me - Arcee will never forgive me. But I suppose the past is in the past. I promise that I will make sure that I never subject another mech to what I subjected you to, nor will I allow anyone else to be subjected to that. I wonder if you are listening to me now, from the next world, from the next life. If so, then once more, I am sorry. Nothing I say will fix anything. It is all too broken."

Starscream paused.

"But it is better than nothing, is it not?"

v.

"You know that there's paint on the Nemesis, right?" Starscream asked the Vehicon who was sitting next to him. He had returned from yet another scouting mission, and this particular Vehicon had been deemed trustworthy enough to accompany him. WIth Shockwave and Predaking both somewhere on this planet, it was still dangerous, though the war was long over. "You don't have to keep the paintjob that he - we - gave you. You don't have to keep anything we gave you."

"I know that," she replied. "And I haven't. You still don't know my designation, do you?"

He felt a stab of guilt immediately. Of course he had not bothered to ask, still inclined as he was to treat all Vehicons as if they were the same. "I do not."

She hummed, opening the two cubes of energon that lay between them. She offered him one. "I named myself Moonrise. First thing I saw when the Nemesis reached Cybertron - my first time seeing it, you know - was the moon rising up over it. I think it's pretty. The others, well - They need to appreciate pretty things more."

And all of his uncertainty, all of his apprehension, melted away. And suddenly, he knew that he had made the right choice. Because they all had the freedom to choose now. They were something more than what they had been made for. And had Starscream not fought for that?

And now, to the tiniest of degrees, he had been successful.

And perhaps that was enough.

vi.

Smokescreen was busy these cycles, but so was Starscream. There was always something to do. Supplies that needed to be brought back from Earth, energon that needed to be rationed, patrol schedules that needed to be made, and fights that needed to be broken up among the Vehicons. But Starscream tried to find time. 

That was how he found himself at his favorite spot on the deck of the docked Nemesis, sipping his cube of energon. Smokescreen sat beside him - it had been a very long cycle. They were finding signs of Shockwave's travels as he tried to evade them through his old labs. It was tedious, tiring work and Starscream had volunteered for too much of it, being the one who could cover the most distance the fastest.

"I never imagined that all of this would happen when I climbed out of that escape pod," Smokescreen mused. "But I can't say I'm not thankful. I've seen history being made so many times now - I've seen you make history."

Starscream laughed. "Maybe."

There was silence between them now, but not silence of the unpleasant sort. After a few kliks, he said, "I'm glad I dug your aft out of that escape pod. I'm glad... Well, I suppose I'm glad we're both here now, as sentimental as that sounds."

"I thought you'd never say it!"

"It was supposed to be a deep and meaningful moment, Smokescreen."

"It is! I - well, I'm glad I met you. I'm glad we're friends."

Their broken planet stretched out before them. The moon would soon begin to rise and it would be time to go below decks and recharge. But for now, Starscream had to say, he was glad to be here, in this moment, very much alive and very much... happy.

vii.

Knockout and Soundwave had been placed in their own "cells," purely as a precaution. The Nemesis was more than large enough for that. Starscream found himself visiting Knockout more often than not, and the duty of bringing their prisoner (?) his daily cube soon fell on him. 

He entered the code and the door opened, revealing the cherry mech, leaning comfortably against the wall, servos bound in front of him. His optics brightened a fraction - though he hid it - when he saw Starscream. "Just who I wanted to see."

"I'm sure," he said, setting down their cubes. He sat down against the wall next to Knockout. He did not have the heart to say that the room they kept him in now was the very room that had belonged to one of his dead seekers. No need to make things even more grim than they already were.

It was silence, but not silence of the unpleasant sort.

"What are they going to do with me?"

"How would I know?!"

"Aren't you one of them now?"

Starscream snorted. "Hardly. Look at my chasss, smart-aft. Nothing's going to happen to you. If anything, you're valuable because you know how to do medical... stuff."

"'Stuff?' You wound me, Starscream! If you fail to recall, I once did open spark surgery - the first in Decepticon history - on -"

"Yes, yes," he said, "we all know how brilliant you are."

"And beautiful," Knockout offered."

"And beautiful. Of course."

Oh, Primus, why would he say that?! Starscream cringed a little. He sounded like a lovesick sparkling. He looked away, faceplates heating up.

"Hey," Knockout said. "For whatever scrap it's worth, I have to say, there are much worse things than being here with you. I'm... glad you're here. And not, you know, a heap of scrap."

Starscream tried to hide his smile. "I return the sentiment. Very much so."

viii.

Soundwave was in the second to last room down the hallway. Starscream had not come to see him since the Nemesis had landed and he regretted that - but he was truthfully unsure of how the former third-in-command would react to him. But they were both technically traitors now and Megatron was very much dead, so there was nothing either of them could do about anything.

Starscream punched in the keycode and opened the door, to reveal the dark mech who was nestled into one corner, blank visor staring right at him. "Hello," he greeted, feeling rather stupid. "Captivity treating you well?"

"Autobots - treating you well?" Soundwave echoed back at him, with some help from an old recording of Shockwave.

"Well enough."

They stared at each other for a moment longer.

Inquiry: Does Starscream regret it? Soundwave commed him. Starscream rather understood - words got tiring very easily, especially for someone who communicated like Soundwave. He himself had to confess that he frequently had to resort to comms when things got particularly annoying.

"Be more specific. I've done plenty of things."

Affirmative. Starscream has: deserted, aided the Autobots, sabotaged Decepticon operations, sided directly with the Autobots, and terminated Lord Megatron.

"You can drop the 'Lord.' He's dead, Soundwave. And no, I can't say I regret any of it. And I can't say I regret the way any of it turned out, either."

Soundwave looked at him again, silent as always. Starscream: traitor to Lord Megatron. However, Lord Megatron: traitor to Decepticon cause. Starscream: terminated Lord Megatron. Starscream: helped to bring peace. Starscream's methods: undesirable. However, outcome: desirable. Conclusion: Starscream, not a traitor to Decepticon cause.

"Flattering," Starscream said, although he was privately surprised at Soundwave's line of thinking. He had thought that Soundwave would be loyal to the end once upon a time, but perhaps not. "And do you regret it? Do you regret turning against him the one time it mattered?"

Soundwave turned away.

Soundwave: does not know.

Chapter Text

Starscream had never been so glad to see his own sun rise over his own planet. He could not deny that Earth's night sky had its charms, but that was just about all the planet had going for it. He still remembered nearly dying to that fragging thunderstorm! In any case, Starscream sat at the desk in his old room on the Nemesis, watching as the sun rose once more, coating the newly-rebuilt buildings in a warm glow.

Somewhere below him, the scout became a warrior. He was not there because he doubted it was his place. He was not there because everything was moving forward, and yet it seemed he remained stuck in the past. Vos called to him. Starscream could feel its pull like a magnet, calling him, begging him, to come home. To return to those golden spires and to fly high enough to brush the moon and stars again. But not yet. There was still much to be done here, and Iacon would remain the center of all things, as it had always been. To return to that dead city was to cut himself off again, once more, from the fragile new world they had begun to build.

No one had returned yet, and Starscream had to remind himself constantly that messages took time to travel. With the time that had passed since Cybertron had fallen and with the time that had passed since the first Neutrals left the planet, any remaining Cybertronians were sure to be far, far from home by now. It would take time for them to receive the message and it would take time for them to come home. The Autobots had sent their own message out to any remaining troops, and Starscream had taken it upon himself to do the same for the Decepticons. No one had to know of what he had done. For all intents and purposes, he remained the highest ranking Decepticon officer currently online. 

He did, however, find it highly amusing to watch that stupidly tall statue of Megatron get blown into tiny little pieces. Starscream had just returned from a long scouting mission south rather than his usual north, looking for any signs of Cybertronian life, including Shockwave. No one had ordered him to do so, but he needed something to occupy his long, boring cycles. He should have been in Vos by now, but something stopped him from doing so. Starscream kept telling himself that soon - soon - he would leave, but he simply could not bring himself to and he did not know why.

Suddenly, the datapad still open on his desk clicked to a screen of Optimus and the others down below - as, apparently, did every screen in the general vicinity of any other mech around. Whatever the Prime was about to say was sure to be important. 

"I must take my leave of you," Optimus said. 

"Sir, may I ask why?" Ultra Magnus cut in. Starscream drummed his claws on the table, frowning to himself. So soon? When Cybertron lived again and when the war was finally over? He was never going to leave Cybertron again, at least, not when he had just gotten it back.

"Even though Cybertron is once again able to support life, our planet is currently incapable of generating new lives. Not until I retrieve the wellspring from which all life on Cybertron is born and ultimately returns. The Allspark."

Starscream stared intently at the screen. Of course the Autobots must have hidden the Allspark away, or jettisoned it into space at one point or another. In Decepticon hands, it was far too great a weapon. He had not even thought of that - in order to move on into the future, sparklings had to be forged, especially to replace their decimated and splintered species. Unlike organics, sparklings born of a sire and a carrier were rare and difficult, and with the stress and wear of millennia of war upon every mech's frame, it was nearly impossible. The only way for there to be more Cybertronians, therefore, was through the planet itself. And that, of course, required the Allspark.

"You mean... it's not here?" Smokescreen questioned.

"Nor has it been, Smokescreen, not for thousands of years. As the war for Cybertron reached a tipping point and the Decepticon army appeared to be unstoppable, I opted to safeguard the Allspark from Megatron by covertly sending it to a distant sector of the galaxy. The Matrix of Leadership will enable to guide us to it's present location," Optimus continued.

Starscream flinched a little, turning away from the dim glow of the blue screen. How twisted it was that half of their species could not even be trusted with that from which they had all come... And how twisted that they had had to resort to such means to try and protect themselves the best that they could. He knew that Megatron would have used the Allspark as a bargaining chip and in the process, most likely have permanently damaged it. What sort of cause had he fought for? And had he believed in it then? Did he believe in it now?

"What are we waiting for?" Bumblebee asked. "Let's take the warship and bring it back!"

Starscream leaned back, considering. It was still a shock to hear the scout - former scout, he corrected himself - speak with his own vocalizer. The theft of which Starscream had, albeit indirectly, been complicit in. Just how much had he been complicit in? His spark felt heavy thinking of it. Without the Allspark, Cybertron was still as good as dead and so was their species. It had to be retrieved, but... The thought of another voyage through space on the very same warship made him want to purge his tanks.

Not when he had just gotten it all back. Not when he had just fixed what had been broken. On that dark, cramped ship where every corner and every hallway lurked with memories Starscream wished that he could forget. The selfless thing to do would be to give up even more for the sake of Cybertron - was that good, that future not greater than all of them? - and go search for it. But he found himself unwilling to give up a single thing more, not when he had already done so much to try and right wrongs. It was not enough and it never would be, so what did it matter?

"These remain dangerous times, Bumblebee. We cannot leave Cybertron unsecured, not with Shockwave unaccounted for," Optimus said.

"Not to mention our stray Predacon," Ultra Magnus added. Starscream groaned. He had shoved the giant sword through Megatron's spark chamber, ending the millenia long war, and there was still work to do. There would be work to do for vorns and vorns - rebuilding an entire planet took time.

"Ultra Magnus, you will supervise patrols to find and capture the fugitive Decepticon. Bulkhead, you will lead the reconstruction effort. Begin by building a landing field to welcome returning refugees. Wheeljack, I will require your extensive experience navigating deep space," Optimus said.

With that, the broadcast clicked shut. Starscream leaned backwards again with a sigh. He was just so tired. He wanted, so badly, to go home back to a place that no longer existed. If he flew to Vos, all he would find would be the broken remains of a once-grand city. There was nothing for him on Earth, and the Harbinger was as good as destroyed. Even now Starscream sat in the room on his ship he had occupied for vorns, and yet there was nothing familiar, nothing comforting about it at all.

What was he to do? For what felt like so long, and yet had not been long at all, his goal had been to end the war. And now it was ended. Megatron was dead and Starscream had killed him and the war was over. But a soldier was all he knew how to be anymore. The war had at least been familiar. He knew how to fly and how to fight and how to plan - but did he know anything else? Did anyone anymore? Leading a society was very different from leading an army. Was there even a place for him in whatever world they built next?

Thinking about anything made him feel tired and miserable. Even trying to reconcile the fact that he was a traitor to the cause he had once sworn his life too was a little too much. Starscream had ended the war himself and yet he felt nothing from it. No satisfaction, no relief, just a vague, tired numbness. It had not all been for nothing but sometimes it felt like it had been. Would it have been better to keep fighting that familiar, safe war until he offlined? Or was it worth it to try and rebuild the rusted husk of a planet and try to navigate a world he didn't understand?

So many questions. And no answers to be found whatsoever. The war was over. But it did not feel like it.

. . .

Starscream found himself at the door of a familiar room turned cell. There was truthfully not much to do when he wasn't on a patrol, looking for signs of Cybertron's emerging natural energon reserves, or Shockwave, or Predaking, or anything else. Wandering too far down the dark hallways of the Nemesis left him feeling weak and faint and with the distinct urge to purge his tanks. It was too sterile, too cold, too empty. Memories lurked around every corner and when Starscream blinked, he saw himself there again, saw a lifetime worth of pain there again.

He hesitated for only a moment before pushing in the code. The door slid open and he found the cherry mech there in his usual position - leaned up against the wall casually, looking as comfortable as could be despite the cuffs around his wrists. "Just who I wanted to see," Knockout said and once again Starscream couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or not. "Another noble speech from our beloved Prime, huh?"

"He's given better speeches," Starscream said, sitting down next to him and taking two cubes of energon out of his subspace. Then he felt like smashing his helm against the wall. Surely he had something funny or clever to say. But with those ruby optics on him, he suddenly forgot what words were.

"How goes being a bootlicker?"

He rolled his optics. "And how goes being a prisoner?!"

"Just horrible. My finish is the most scratched it's been in vorns!"

"I'm sure it is."

They fell into a sort of comfortable silence. Starscream sipped his cube absent-mindedly. It was energon from the first vein of natural energon that they had found on the surface. His energon-seeker coding had activated like a beacon toward it almost instantly. The Nemesis's purification and processing systems were decent, but nothing on Earth or anywhere else tasted quite like Cybertronian energon. Which had a taste that was not quite able to be conveyed in words, but to him, it tasted like home. A home he had never though he would get back.

"I've been thinking," he began.

"Oh? That's new."

"The future. An Autobot-run Cybertron. I don't imagine it'll be perfect, but..."

"We fought that war for a reason," Knockout said. "I hope your new little friends know those reasons. If they don't do something, we'll just have another war. Which I'm sure will be fun, but none of us will survive another one."

Starscream dropped his gaze. It was true. If the holes in their society that had led to the rise of the Decepticon movement were not fixed, if some bots remained on the bottom and some remained on the top and there was nothing anyone could do about that... But there was not even a society to have holes in as it stood. It would have to be rebuilt from scrap. "It can't be ruled just by Autobots," Starscream said, a thought occurred to him. "That's half - half our species that will be left without any sort of say in our future."

"Do you really expect they'd trust filthy Decepticons like us - me - with any kind of power? Don't be naive."

"They have to. They will. They -"

"Don't have so much faith. Power corrupts, isn't that what they say? Your Autobots are not as noble as they say they are, and the future will be their future, not ours," Knockout said rather dejectedly.

He couldn't argue with that. He so desperately wanted to be believe that things would be perfect on the first try, but they really would not be. Starscream didn't think, either, that any returning Decepticons could be trusted with power - not the sort of power that mattered, anyway. But he knew that if their new government only served its own interests, there would just be another war. He didn't know what to do. He couldn't sit idly by and let a new society collapse once more, and yet there was so little that he could do. He was just one bot. There were not many problems he could solve on his own.

"Someone has to fight for things to change. If I don't, no one will. But I'm not sure that I want to." There was a lot more to it than that, but that was as plainly as Starscream could put it. He was tired. He was tired of fighting a war that would never end. He was tired of fighting on even when it was all supposed to be over. He was just tired and he wanted to move on and he wanted to forget. But the past held onto him with sharp, hooked claws and did not let go.

He let himself lean on Knockout's shoulder, feeling the gentle rev and whirrs of his engine. His faceplates flushed a little at how close they were, but he thought that the other mech's sparkbeat was the only thing that kept him grounded here, now, when the war was over and when there was nothing, any longer, to fear. The only thing that kept him grounded here, now, where it was all alright.

There was no words between them. Even if there were, Starscream didn't know what he would say. He didn't know if he could trust himself to say what wanted, desperately, to be said.

. . .

"Someone may want to think about renaming the Sea of Rust," Smokescreen said as he streaked down the rusted metal surface of Cybertron. "Just saying, though I hoped more of us would be rushing back here to see it. You know, now that it's all bright and shiny."

Starscream kept pace with Smokescreen and Ultra Magnus overhead. He had to admit, Smokescreen was right. He had hoped, very foolishly, that within a few cycles throngs of refugees would return. But of course messages took time to transmit and who knew how far away any remaining Cybertronians might be. It was a somber thought - a once-great species scattered to the stars, forever mourning a home lost because of their own in-fighting.

"Cybertron'll populate in time, kid," Ultra Magnus said. "You have to remember, refugees could be returning from light years away."

"If they do return," Starscream offered. "They will have built their own lives elsewhere by now. I can't say that Cybertron in its current form is awfully appealing."

"Wait, two contacts at point A-4. Approach with caution."

The two mechs beneath him transformed swiftly and Starscream did the same, landing heavy on his pedes. He winced at how harsh and loud the landing had been - he had never been one for stealth, but his old frame had been significantly lighter. He could not say that he did not appreciate the strength and heft of his new (old?) frame, but it took some getting used to.

In front of the three of them were two collapsed buildings and a dark, narrow alley that ran between them. Starscream adjusted his audials and he could just make out the shifting of rubble coming from inside of the alleyway. "My name is Ultra Magnus. Are you Autobot or Decepticon?"

...More Cybertronians currently on Cybertron? Shockwave had survived here after the first spacebridge had exploded, so he supposed that it wasn't impossible, but... From within the darkness stepped two massive mechs, steel gray and streaked with bright yellow biolights. "Neither," one of them said with a smirk. Gears shifted and panels retracted as they transformed into - Starscream bit back a gasp.

"Predacons!" Ultra Magnus said. He and Smokescreen pointed blasters at them instantly, and after a moment, Starscream did the same.

How? Predacons had been extinct since... Well, since anyone could remember. Predaking had come as a result of Shockwave playing god, not of anything natural. So how...?

There was no time to be worried about the how or why. The Predacons charged, pedes colliding heavily with the ground, just as massive and just as terrifying as Predaking. Starscream transformed and launched himself in the air, momentarily relieved, until he realized that both of the Predacons did, in fact, have wings.

Starscream tried not to pay attention to what happened beneath him. Instead, he opened fire from the air while the two were preoccupied on the ground. They pounced on Ultra Magnus and Smokescreen, massive weights able to slam them to the ground effortlessly. Blaster fire seemed to do close to nothing against them - Starscream tried to remember anything at all about fighting Predaking, but his processor blanked on him.

All he could do was remain in the air, flying circles above them, raining down gunfire. One of the Predacons spread his wings and darted into the air, Ultra Magnus clutching onto its thrashing tail. Starscream just barely managed to soar upwards to avoid the massive beast. He did a slight corkscrew, attempting to right himself, but it was impossible to regain balance or any degree of focus when the Predacon, too, was in the air, optics fixated on him.

The Predacon twisted his head around to look at Ultra Magnus, breathing out two twin jets of flame, trying to detach him. So these ones could breathe fire, too. Could this cycle get any better? Ultra Magnus blasted it in the face - a weak spot, clearly - and both of them went tumbling down, landed harshly and kicking up clouds of dust. Starscream righted himself and set a few more blasts downwards for good measure before tilting around to face the one that Smokescreen was fighting.

The Predacon tossed Smokescreen to the side like a ragdoll - it was frightening to see the sheer power that they held. Power enough to rip his spark right out of its chamber. He fired at the Predacon a few times, to no avail, before revving up his engine and darting forward toward where Smokescreen was quite literally sailing through the air. Starscream transformed and caught him in midair, arms wrapping around him, before transforming back for a soft landing. They both hit the ground with a decent amount of force, but remained relatively unharmed.

There was no time to celebrate. Behind them, the other Predacon and Ultra Magnus were fighting once more. In front of them, the Predacon leaned its head back, gears clicking and turning as fire shot from its mouth. Smokescreen grabbed him and activated the phase shifter, shifting into the rubble around them. It was a strange, nausea inducing feeling but the fire sailed right over them harmlessly.

"Phase beats blaze every time," he said as they shifted back out.

Behind them, there was a heavy thud as Ultra Magnus was tossed through the air for perhaps the dozenth time. "He's going to die," Starscream hissed. "We all are. Get a groundbridge here, now."

Smokescreen didn't need to be asked twice. He transformed into vehicle mode again, driving rapidly toward Ultra Magnus. Starscream transformed and leapt into the air, firing down on the Predacon, who glanced wildly between him and Smokescreen. Apparently he came to a decision, because it, too, flew into the air - and right after him. Starscream did a quick barrel roll, just barely avoiding the sharp claws that raked through the air.

But no matter how fast he was, how nimble, how agile, he was simply too small to outmaneuver the Predacon for long. Starscream veered right, feeling the rush of air as those claws missed him by mere inches once again. He saw Smokescreen grab Ultra Magnus just as a groundbridge opened in front of them. "Starscream!" the other mech shouted. "Come on, it won't be open long!"

Starscream twisted and turned in midair, soaring slightly higher and doing a small turn to change his direction. He shot forward as fast as he could, red and blue wings slicing through the air rapidly. The portal would close soon - it had to, if they did not want the Predacons following them through it. Behind him, mere inches away, the Predacon followed. Starscream felt the heat and rush of air from the flames before he saw them - he dipped low and veered left, dodging the column of flames smoothly.

He wasn't going to make it - It was too far - and -

He flew even faster, dodging and rolling, dipping low and soaring up high to try and throw off the other bot. But it was all to no avail. Starscream felt metallic claws closing around him, digits digging into soft panels and into the protoform underneath.

And suddenly he was pressed up against sheer rock again, the Star Saber still in the stone above him, Megatron's digits digging into his chest plate, pulling it from his protoform. Starscream could feel the sparks of electricity as sheer agony ripped through him. As he begged and pleaded for mercy that would never come. As he - And the fusion cannon was charging up - And stone bearing down on him, a thousand tons of sheer, unforgiving earth - And someone was slamming him up against a wall and it was pain upon pain upon -

No, no, no.

He was not there. He was here on Cybertron, safe, and Megatron was dead. And there was a groundbridge he had to make it through.

Starscream did a smooth, sharp corkscrew motion in midair, ejecting both his missiles at the same time. They collided sharply into the Predacon and he heard the explosions behind him. There was energon dripping down his plating and he could not stop to assess the damage to any degree - he could not afford to hesitate at all - The green glow of the portal was right in front of Starscream, if only he could just - keep going -

The portal enveloped him just as flames engulfed him.

He transformed in midair and collided with the cold metal ground on the other side. Starscream tried to remember where he was and what was happening and if he was safe but his processor felt blank - 

And he slipped into darkness.

Chapter Text

Everything was empty and everything was silent. He floated on through a dark void that he did not recognize. All Starscream registered was that it was cold and it was dark, in a way that seeped through the seams between his plating and down into his protoform. Vague, half-formed bits of memories floated passed him.

The charge of a fusion cannon - rock and stone bearing down on him. His own trembling pleas for mercy, the sound of heavy pedesteps against the earth. His own pounding spark.

Snow over an endless white-blue tundra. Hope and joy and pain. Snowflakes against the cool metal of Starscream's own wings and the roar and hiss of the wind. His own voice calling out for someone who would never return.

A blue bot and a purple bot who looked just like him transforming and streaking through the air for what he did not know would be the last time. Later, his own claws sinking into energon lines, trying to snuff his own spark, unable to live with the pain of being half a person.

Ruble and steel crashing and burning all around him. Making peace with the fact that his spark would return to the place from which it had once come. And then someone dragging Starscream out of the rubble, his backplates scratching up against the debris that lay everywhere.

His servo in the servo of a cherry mech's, death waiting outside the doors. Another final moment where he had made peace. Another final moment where he had been forced to keep going.

The heft of a silver sword between Starscream's servos and the strength of an unfamiliar-familiar frame.

And then, a familiarly painful memory.

. . .

Starscream leaned heavily against the wall, trying to catch his vents. His plating was cracked and broken in places, seeping energon. He was stained with the blue liquid - how much of it was his own he did not know. It was the first battle he had led since the offlining of his trinemates - since his stint with his servos bound to a medical berth because he would not stop trying to sink them into his own chassis - and it had not gone well. 

Starscream had nearly been shot out of the air - a lucky hit by all means. After all, no one bested him when he was in the air. Still, it had hit him on the nosecone - thankfully not the wing - and when he transformed back, he found the delicate plates around his neck cables smoking and spitting electricity rapidly. It was a miracle Starscream's very voice box had not been crushed completely. The only thing worse than losing to the Autobots was reporting that back to Megatron.

They had sustained heavy losses once again - the latest push to take one of many heavily armed Autobot bases had been just as successful as the last, which was to say not at all. None of it was his fault, per say, nor was it that their tacticians insisted that the best way to take the base was to keep throwing their soldiers at it until something happened. Starscream told his seekers to report to the med bay immediately - they were all in less than ideal condition - but he stumbled all the way to Megatron's quarters, bleeding the entire time. He did not want to get himself fixed up, only to wind up broken again. Too much trouble.

He hesitated only a moment before knocking. It was okay. This was familiar. Starscream knew what would happen and there was a certain sort of sureness and safety to the old routine. It did not hurt any less, but he knew what to expect and that was something that came his way very little these cycles.

What happened next was a blur. Starscream's mind had blanked halfway through it, hardly aware of his frame and the damage being done to it. He was somewhere else, drifting gently through space. He was somewhere safe and somewhere very far away, where nothing and no one could hurt him. When he snapped back to reality what had to be a joor later, he had been thrown haphazardly out in the hallway, sitting in a pool of his own energon.

His wounds were not severe enough to make him offline, even when combined with those he had sustained in battle. And, of course, his wings had been untouched. Ever since that stint where Starscream had to regrow his wings, berth-bound for far too long, Megatron had realized that an Air Commander who could not fly was entirely useless to him. A quick trip to the med bay, some solders and replaced plating, and he would be as good as new.

The one thing he could recall clearly were servos, large and hefty, closing around his throat, around already cracked plating. Starscream remembered clearly, through the fogginess of his memory, the crack! of something deep inside of his throat, and then the crunch-crunch-crunch as the little pieces inside his vocalizer were crushed, grinding and moving against each other. The sounds had been sickening and he had flinched, deep as he was in his own mind. Apparently that meant enough was enough, because he had been unceremoniously tossed outside afterwards.

He tried to speak for a moment - curses, in as many languages as he knew. But nothing came out. His vocalizer refused to obey him. Starscream brought up two digits to his throat and flinched back, wings banging up against the wall, when, instead of cool, solid metal, he brushed up against soft protoform. His plating had been cracked and ripped open in such a way that the inside parts were on full display for the world to see.

He steeled himself and felt again, feeling the jagged, broken edges of... something. Starscream really wasn't sure what it was, but part of his processor helpfully pulled back up his anatomy lessons from the Academy. That was his vocalizer. The thing that allowed him to produce any sound at all. He felt it again. It was supposed to be a box - hence voice box - but it had been bent and crushed and snapped so out of shape that all Starscream felt under his digits was crumpled metal. It was salvageable, he was sure - it just had to be bent back into shape. Wiring and gears could be replaced.

As if confirming this, a short burst of static escaped out his mouth. He tried again and there was a burst of pain in his throat. But more static did come out. Starscream would get his voice back - he would get it all back. Like he always did. But for now he was bleeding from a dozen different wounds, sitting in a stickily warm pool of his own neon energon, digits shoving against exposed, sensitive protoform.

He stumbled to his pedes, feeling as if he had downed an entire bottle of high-grade. He was unsteady - very much so - but every joint moved and bent as it should. His plating slid smoothly over itself where it should have - Starscream could still transform and fly perfectly. No serious damage. It was an art now, their little dance.

He felt fine, but he was not fine. Starscream made it perhaps ten steps toward the med bay, which was located conveniently on the other side of the ship, before he fell back to the ground face-plates first. His optics flickered and shuttered for a moment, not able to decide if they would offline themselves or not. A warning popped up on his HUD regarding energon loss, then another one about the crushed vocalizer, and then another about his general sorry state.

Engaging emergency stasis lock in 3... 2... 1...

Starscream fought to override his protocols, but he was not fast enough in his current injured, exhausted state. Stasis took him under its dark, velvety curtains, and the world slipped away.

. . .

He woke up on a medical berth. No stasis cuffs this time! An improvement, if he did say so himself. Knockout had deemed him mentally sound enough to return to active duty - but Starscream could not say he had enjoyed the stupidly vain medic being the only person to witness him at what he would not hesitate to call his lowest moments since Vos had fallen. Starscream tried to sit up and found that there was not too much pain throughout his frame. Joints and gears bent and twisted the right way. He fluttered his wings, relieved to find them still soundly attached to his back.

He glanced around at the empty med bay - his seekers must have been moved out. Which meant - How long had it been? Starscream's optics landed on Knockout, who was busy polishing a variety of terrifying surgical tools that he did not seem, at all, qualified to use. He was certainly far from their chief medical officer, but he had taken over the care of the seekers. Seekers were unique, specialized frames that often required repairs that were no longer able to be done properly - what, with half the planet destroyed. Knockout had an uncanny ability for shoddy but functioning fixes that were stupidly uncomfortable but enabled them to get back in fighting shape in a matter of orns. Starscream could not say he liked the mech - in fact, he would definitely say he disliked him - but he was gifted at what he did.

"Ah, Commander," Knockout said, turning toward him. "Awake, I see. I must say, our liege did quite a number on you this time around. I had to drag you back here myself - you're welcome, by the way."

Starscream opened his mouth to reply with some biting remark, but all that came out was a short burst of painful static. He brought his digits back up to his throat to find the plating soldered back together, but the area was undoubtedly tender and sore. "I wouldn't try that," he commented. "Your vocalizer's just about fried. I have to wonder, what did you even do to mangle it so bad?"

He opened his mouth to say something and then closed it again, frustrated. His words were what kept him safe half the time. His words were what filled the uncanny silence that had settled over every part of life ever since his trinemates had... Starscream's words were what allowed him to be him, and now they were gone. "Us Cybertronians have a conveniently built in communication method. In case you have forgotten, dear Commander."

He gritted his dentae. Of course he knew basic biology. Don't treat me like a sparkling, he commed.

"Well, you throw a tantrum like one. May as well return the favor."

Say that one more time and I'll make you regret it.

Knockout whistled. "A word of advice. Don't threaten the one mech who is willing to put up with your hissy little aft long enough to put you back together."

Starscream ignored him. When will you have my vocalizer fixed by? He desperately hoped that the answer was... He was too scared to even think it to himself in the privacy of his own mind. He could not lose this too.

"Should take a deca-cycle or two for the supplies I ordered - yes, I ordered them already, I am just that brilliant and reliable - to ship in. And, of course, I'll have the surgery done within the cycle," Knockout said, flashing him a bright smile.

A deca-cycle?! he questioned. He could not wait that long.

"Or two. Come on, Screamer, show a little gratitude."

Starscream obliged with a gesture that relied heavily on the use of his middle digit.

. . .

He was left to use his commlink exclusively for communication. It was deeply unpleasant and more than a little embarrassing, but any injury short of actually offlining himself was an excuse to stop working. Especially with the war heating up again and both sides scrambling for pieces of what was left of Cybertron. Starscream got more than a few looks - some pitying, others mocking. He found himself opening his mouth to respond more often than not, and then standing there, silent and frustrated and burning with anger.

By all means he should have been able to express himself just fine. But he simply... could not.

All the things he wanted to say - all the words, all the plans, all the emotions were jumbled up in Starscream's processor, refusing to form themselves into coherent words. There was so much he wanted to say and most of the time, Starscream was met only with deathly silence. It made him want to scream - but of course he could not. The words simply would not come out and he found himself speechless and voiceless.

There was only so much that gestures could convey. And he found himself feeling like half a bot once more, deprived of the one thing he relied on the most. The extensions of himself that were once so easily heard, that once commanded so much attention and respect were nowhere to be found. Starscream wasn't looked like like he deserved respect and attention anymore - his words could not cut through the same, even when he could organize his thoughts in a way that translated to words.

Words had never been hard for him before. He never had any trouble saying what he thought, even if it was blunt or rude. He never had any trouble twisting truths into lies either, or manipulating whomever he needed to for his own gain. He never had any trouble switching from casual to formal or to any other tone or emotion. Until now. Words were something Starscream had taken for granted. Something he had thought were an innate part of himself he would never lose. And yet he had.

It was difficult in a way that nothing had ever been difficult. It was like Starscream was missing a part of himself that could not simply be rebuilt or replaced so easily. He needed to hear the sound of his own voice, needed to be able to express himself in a way that mattered - and he just couldn't. His frame was a cage - a betraying, traitorous cage that would not let him say anything he was feeling, that kept his emotion strictly inside his processor, tormenting him and him alone.

It was a cage he could not escape because the cage was himself.

There were always things he wanted to say. Plans, speeches, little biting remarks, orders, even compliments on occasion. And yet, despite the presence of his admittedly useful commlinks, Starscream could never muster up the willpower to say any of them. He did not want to say what he felt to the world any longer - rather, he wanted to hide it away. It was stupid and pathetic but he had become almost ashamed of himself - ashamed of the fact that his own frame denied him his own autonomy, ashamed of the weakness and failure that had led to this, ashamed that he lacked his words in a world that operated on them.

What part of life was not dominated by speech? Casual conversation, formal meetings, even the reports he gave when they were too urgent to simply be typed up. Everything was spoken - answers and replies and questions and everything in between. Take that away and you had no power, no free will, no anything.

But Starscream refused to let himself be weak forever. Cycles passed slowly, and then alarmingly fast. The next bot who gave him a strange look received a missile to the chassis. A worthy sacrifice of one of the walls of the hallway, which the other mech had been blasted clean through. No one said anything after that. Starscream was still himself, after all, even if it did not feel like that.

To his credit (which Starscream truly hated to say), Knockout was the only one who did not offer any sort of scorn or pity or commentary. He continued to treat Starscream and continued to update him on the progress of the parts that had been ordered, which were occasionally hopeful and mostly negative. Always some delay or shortage of another. He spoke as he always did - vain and self-centered, but Starscream found it strangely comforting. The words slipped out a little easier and his processor felt like less of a jumbled mess. He truly did not know what that feeling was - that feeling of ease and safety and comfort.

There was nothing like that on the Nemesis anymore. Not after his trine. Not during war. There was only stiff formality and pain and anger. Toward him and from him.

Starscream's berthroom seemed far too big without Thundercracker and Skywarp. He had yet to relocate out of it and every single nano-klik there only served as a painful reminder of all that he had lost and all that he could still lose. So he found himself spending most spare moments in the med bay, sometimes with an excuse on why he was there, and more often than not without one. It never felt awkward and he could forget about his lack of words and his lack of a voice so, so easily.

By the time he woke to a shiny new vocalizer, he could almost call Knockout a... friend.

Perhaps.

Maybe.

Chapter Text

"You what?" he sputtered, sitting up with a wince. His frame still ached all over, though there remained no noticeable signs of damage.

Starscream's last memory was of him just barely making it through the groundbridge, chased by two Predacons. Two new Predacons. They must have been Shockwave's creation, from cloning more fossils or whatever else he had managed to create, even while on the run. He was in the all-too-familiar medbay of the Nemesis and looking around, he come almost see it. He could almost see the cycles and cycles he had spent here, burning with anger and burning with pain. Starscream could almost see the silhouettes of all his seekers that had died here, that he had watched die here. He could almost see the silhouettes of all those he couldn't save. They followed him, even now, and he doubted they would ever stop.

"We went to find Predaking to see if he could explain what the frag is going on," Smokescreen repeated with a sigh. "To, uh, limited success. He still doesn't forgive us for killing all the other Predacons which, I guess, is fair, but what were we supposed to do?"

Starscream vaguely remembered that. If it were up to him, he might have thought to spare them, but one Predacon was problem enough, let alone more... Which led them back to where they had started. More Predacons. Right. "What's the next move in our grand plan?" he asked. He winced at the sound of his own voice, resetting his vocalizer briefly. Starscream had sustained more damage than he cared to count lately.

"Well... That's the thing, we don't really know. We were hoping you would have some idea."

"What the frag do you expect me to say?! I've been on a medical berth for the last" - he checked his chronometer - "two cycles! And online for a breem of that time! What exactly do you Autobots want, anyway?"

Smokescreen fidgeted. "I mean, to find Shockwave. What else?"

Right. Before he makes more Predacons and we destroy Cybertron a second time. "He's hiding somewhere," Smokescreen continued. "We... we don't exactly know where, though."

"No scrap," he replied, steadying himself enough to stand up. Mistake. His legs were weaker than he expected and he immediately grabbed onto the wall, stilling himself. "I don't exactly know either. But I may have some idea."

Starscream thought about it. The Decepticons had had countless bases on Cybertron, some more important than others. They had fought a war here for uncountable vorns, after all. Some were tiny, covert safehouses meant to be stopped in for half a night of recharge, while others were sprawling military outposts. Shockwave himself had had many laboratories that were kept highly classified - even from him. And in the vorns that had passed while he found himself stranded on Cybertron, he easily could have established more. But he needed a place with the equipment and space necessary for what Starscream assumed was an entire army of Predacons.

He could think of only one place, and the thought of it made his fuel tank churn. Darkmount. Megatron's military headquarters for the better half of the war, where he had been stationed for a better half of as well. It was the place the Nemesis had last departed, leaving behind a dying, darkened planet. It was the place where Thundercracker and SKywarp had left for the last time. It was a place of many memories for Starscream, most of them terribly unpleasant.

And now he was to return.

It didn't matter, though, did it? He had become so very well acquainted with his past once more. What was one more time?

. . .

Starscream very easily could have chosen to simply not go. He had the excuse of being injured - which he was. Everything had a sort of dull, heavy ache to it and any sort of movement hurt. It reminded him of the state he had been in almost constantly on the Nemesis - sore and tired and probably belonging in a medical berth, but functional nonetheless. Starscream had a sort of philosophy that as long as he could walk and fly, he was perfectly fine. Which was of course not true, and even with his admittedly stronger new (old?) frame, he felt this keenly.

Still, Starscream couldn't shake the feeling that something was going to happen here. Something so very very important that he could not leave in the servos of others. If he did so, nothing would ever change. That was something he had learned a long time ago. There was no one coming to save him and all that was left to do was to save himself. Sometimes from himself. Starscream also felt that if they had waited for him to go talk to Predaking, something would have changed. He and the Predacon had... well, some sort of understanding, maybe. Or maybe he would have been ground into a fine multi-colored dust. Who knew?

Regardless, Starscream found himself trailing slightly ahead of the Autobots below him, with the jagged, shadowy silhouette of Darkmount looming up ahead of them. He had not been here in vorns, and seeing it brought a shiver running down his spinal strut. It hadn't always looked like this, ominous and decaying. For better or worse, it had once been the nerve center of the Decepticon faction. There were always mechs entering and leaving, always activity, always life. It had not just been a command center - for him, it had been home.

It had been the one place that Starscream felt safe in ever since the destruction of Vos. How long had he worried that more bombs would rain down upon him and what remained of his people? How long had they lived in fear? But in Darkmount, there was never anything to fear. He could stop glancing over his shoulder and fearing for his very continued existence. And now look at what had happened to it. Look at what had happened to him. Look at how miserably he had failed as Winglord, failed the most fundamental duty he owed to his fellow seekers. 

"What makes you think we'll find Shockwave's cloning lab here?" Arcee asked below.

"Yeah, wasn't Darkmount Megatron's military HQ?" Smokescreen added.

"What it has is a comprehensive map of Shockwave's lab networks," Starscream said. "And every other Decepticon base hidden on this planet."

In front of him, Bumblebee transformed and the others followed. His pedes hit the ground hard but he barely felt the impact - that was still new. He was used to being small and slender - too used to it, in fact. Ahead of then, Darkmount loomed, tall and terrifying. It was not welcoming at all, and Starscream shrunk back a bit. Still, there was nowhere to go but forward. Bumblebee led the way inside through the two massive double doors that still hung slightly open, even after all this time.

Starscream recognized much of the interiors - they were covered in rubble from collapsed sections, due to attacks and due to the tear of time itself. Fading graffitti had been etched in some places, some of it in favor of the Decepticons, some of it in favor of the Autobots, much it crude and messy. How many had been here since the Nemesis had departed Cybertron, he wondered? The Nemesis had hardly contained all the Decepticons on Cybertron when it had left - how many had ventured here from every corner of the planet, seeking answers, seeking guidance, and finding only ruins instead?

He took the lead after a few kliks, knowing the fortress keenly well even after all those vorns. After a few breems of walking - the fortress was massive, built to house entire armies - the hallway opened up into a wide, sprawling room. Pillars held up a gigantic ceiling that had once been painted. Tiles once inlaid with all manner of precious metals lay cracked and broken beneath their pedes. In front of it all was a dark throne, still perfectly intact. Even after everything...

Starscream wrenched his gaze away from it with a great deal of effort and instead crept his way toward the datapad directly across, some ways away. Bumblebee and Arcee followed. He swept the dust off the controls - there was quite a bit of it. The control panel was remarkably well preserved and it only took a few clicks before it sprang online. Starscream inputted the password - thank goodness it was still logged on his HUD - and he searched through its many files, looking for the map. It didn't take long to pull it up, although it did take a lot of effort to ignore everything else he saw - much of it intriguing, most of it painful.

"Let's download the data and get out of here," Bumblebee said.

All of a sudden, Starscream heard the woosh of air coming from somewhere behind them. Evidently, he wasn't the only one. "Hey, something's headed our way," Bulkhead said. They all froze.

"Predaking?" Arcee said.

"Moving too fast."

Starscream squinted his optics, hoping beyond hope for a moment that it was a fellow seeker. Living proof that not all was lost, that it hadn't all been for nothing, that he wasn't the only one left. There had to be others still out there. There had to be. Some part of their coding must have pointed them toward him - the only seeker still on the planet for all he knew. Part of Starscream even imagined his trinemates, although that was a stupid impossibility. 

They were offline. He had felt them go through their link. He had felt it. They were one with the Allspark, now and forever. But what if... Starscream did not dare to hope. He never did and he never would. And yet he still hoped because his grief was an ache that would never go away. It was part of him now, worn smooth and thin by time. It was a pain that he carried with him, that he did not dare let go of. That was all he had left of them, after all.

The shape grew closer and Starscream was finally able to make out exactly who and what it was.

His spark froze.

His energon stopped flowing in his fuel lines.

And

the 

world

stopped.

It grinded to a halt. Cybertron stopped spinning on its axis. It just stopped, cold and dead, just like that.

The sun stopped rising. The stars stopped shining.

Everything just stopped.

Because it was Megatron. And he was online. And he was back. And he was coming back now.

Starscream was supposed to be free.

He was supposed to be free of it all.

That was supposed to be the end.

After everything, that was supposed to be the end. No, no, no. Why? Why now of all times - why was it falling apart when it had just been coming together - why - why - why? This couldn't be possible - surely - a vision - a hallucination - a nightmare - something! Anything but this! Sick, twisted this!

Surely it had to be something other than reality. Surely it couldn't be - But it was. And it was. And it was.

The pain was supposed to have ended. The fear was supposed to have ended. All that was lost was supposed to have been returned. Starscream had killed him. His servos had been stained with blue energon. He had seen Megatron's spark snuff. 

He had done that himself so he would be free. He had been terrified the entire time - and terrified long before that - but he had done what he needed to do regardless. Because there had only been pain and terror and loss and - 

Agony.

And then it had all faded. It had all gone still and silent. No more pain, no more suffering, no more anything.

Starscream had been free.

Free to be his own mech, free to do whatever he wanted, free to live without fear. Everything that had hung over him had been lifted away, leaving it all fresh and clean and new. It was supposed to have been a new start. It was supposed to have been his new life.

Everything was supposed to be different.

But he was right there again back where he had started.

All it did was go in cycles. Cycles upon cycles upon cycles. Starscream was stupid for thinking that things changed - would ever change for him - that it ever ended. He was stupid for thinking that things would ever be different for him. And stupid to think that he had freed himself from that endless fragging loop.

He would never escape. Something fundamental kept him trapped, a knot that could never be undone.

It was supposed to be over. 

But it was not.

And for him, it never would be.

Starscream snapped back to reality and he felt a cold spike of fear run its way down his spinal strut. He had taken several steps back involuntary and his entire frame was shaking. His palms were slick with lubricant and the world was shaking and spinning. He couldn't string a thought together. Couldn't do anything. Even steadying Starscream's own frame seemed like far too great a task - insurmountable, even.

Megatron was back and Starscream was a traitor. Nothing mattered now because it would just be the same - the same thing would happen - he would - he was going to - he -

His vents came out too fast and his spark was pounding and - and - and -

And -

Everything was -

It was -

Spinning - Spinning -

Too much -

And it was -

Too much -

Megatron transformed and landed with a thud, kicking up dust from around the hallway. His eyes glowed purple and his frame was - different. Even taller than before, glimmering with purple biolights. What looked like green and gray stone streaked his frame and in the place of the insignia was a strange, glowing symbol. Something was different - but that hardly registered because to him it was still all the same.

"Minions of the Prime," Megatron said in a voice that was not his own, "prepare to be obliterated!"

"Megatron?!"

"You skewered buckethead with a giant saber and managed to miss his spark?" Smokescreen asked him.

The words registered, just barely. Starscream tried to calm himself and could not. The only thing he could offer was a barely perceptible shrug.

"How are you still alive?" Arcee demanded.

"And where did you score the upgrade?" Bulkhead added.

"Megatron cannot answer you at this moment. But I can inform you with utmost authority that he owes his new lease on life to me, Unicron!"

Silence.

Dead silence.

It was not Megatron. It was his frame, new and unfamiliar as it was, but it was not him. It was Unicron, using his body as MECH had used Breakdown's. That glow in his eyes - dark energon. But not just dark energon - Unicron himself. 

Starscream felt another shudder of fear - not his own, but something deep and primal. Primus had created him, as he had created every other Cybertronian, and here was the being that was meant to destroy all of it. There were no words to describe it - it was coming face to face with something you could not understand, something so massive and powerful and deadly that the only thing you wanted to do was cower and run.

"I will not be so easy to deliver into oblivion," Unicron (Megatron?) continued. His servos shook with purple energy that transformed themselves into two massive spiked cannons. He opened fire, energy exploding outwards.

Starscream was shoved back immediately, the sheer force of the collision slamming into him like a brick wall. His backplates hit the ground hard and he was dazed for a moment. And then purple fire was hurtling toward him, faster than he could duck. And then Smokescreen was there, dragging him to his pedes. Starscream steadied his vents for a moment, feeling horrifically out of tune with his own frame.

He transformed both servos and returned fire rapidly. Starscream barely managed to dodge the returned fire - the caliber of which he could not possibly hope to match. He darted behind the throne, somewhat out of reach. How ironic. Regardless, it was relatively sturdy. He aimed several smooth shots, all of which landed - but it was no use. His blasts and the Autobot's blasts seemed to be doing nothing at all. 

Bumblebee landed smoothly atop Unicron's shoulder struts and then jumped sideways into the air, landing several shots in midair. Bulkhead scrambled to join Starscream behind the throne. He fired one of his missiles, which streaked through the air, followed by a trail of smoke. It collided the same moment Bumblebee's shots did and Unicron seemed to be caught off guard for a moment. But it was only temporary.

He twisted around and delivered two more blasts of purple energy, all of which rocked the hallway down to its foundations. Somewhere between those moments Arcee had joined them behind the relative safety of the throne and now Smokescreen and Bumblebee ran toward them too.

The continued blasts rocked the stone of the throne. It wouldn't hold for long. "We need to retreat," Arcee said.

"The only way out is down," Smokescreen said.

"We can't call for a groundbridge before we put some space between Unicron and us," Bulkhead said - and he was right. Any sort of groundbridge and they would lead Unicron right to their base.

Another blast hit the pillar and it shook, dust visibly raining down. "We have to move fast, unless you all want to be crushed to powder," Starscream hissed.

"Behold, my infinite power," Unicron said and a moment later, some sort of spiked javelin was hurtling through the air. It embedded itself into the back of the throne and he had to throw himself back as to not be impaled.

He and Bumblebee exchanged glances grimly. Stay here a non-klik longer, and they would all be scrap. "...Let's roll."

Starscream didn't need to be told twice. He transformed and shot into the air, the others following closely on the ground. Starscream sailed right over Unicron's helm, twisting smoothly in the air to avoid the purple blasts that were sent toward him immediately. On the ground, the Autobots streaked between his two massive pedes, avoiding him. 

No one could catch him in the air. No one could hurt him in the air. Starscream felt invincible and infinitely powerful. He did a quick corkscrew, smooth and natural, avoiding yet another blast.

Starscream flew off the top of the throne-room hallway and immediately angled himself downward, falling into a smooth dive. Behind him, the Autobots quite literally hurtled off the edge. He sent one of his missiles flying ahead of him and it blasted the opening of one of the tunnels wide open immediately. Smoke and fire exploded outwards. Starscream did not dare to look back but he heard the all-too-familiar sound of Megatron's frame transforming as Unicron gave chase.

He flew through the tunnel, followed by the Autobots on the ground. The door had closed behind them, though he had no doubts that Unicron could blast it open. The opposite door opened and he hurtled through it, not bothering to look below him and -

The Autobots screeched to a halt and Starscream stopped in his path to hover. He looked downwards and his spark dropped. He transformed, landing.

"A smelting pit?!" he said. "Just our fragging luck."

"Cybertron's been dormant for thousands of years and that's still active," Arcee demanded.

"Ratchet, we need a groundbridge," Bumblebee commed. 

Starscream turned around just in time to see the blast of purple energy. He was slammed back immediately, an invisible, unspeakably heavy force pushing down on his chestplates. Starscream took several rapid steps back, pressing himself up against cracked stone walls, steadying his frame. Bulkhead, Arcee, and Smokescreen were not as lucky. He could only watch as they were shoved backwards into the smelting pit and -

There was no time for worry. When the smoke cleared, Unicron was right there. Starscream scrambled a little forward, his spark freezing up in its chamber. Next to him, Bumblebee transformed both his servos into blasters.

Starscream wasted no time. He released both of his missiles. They whistled through the air, about to hit and - Unicron swiped one bladed servo through the air and cut them in half. The pieces of metal clattered to the ground uselessly. The blade slammed into the ground and cracks hurtled through it - all the way toward the smelting pit. Bulkhead lost his grip on the rock that was beginning to splinter rapidly.

"No!" he and Bumblebee cried out, nearly in unison. Starscream fired one last time at Unicron and turned around, running toward the edge of the pit.

They were falling and falling and -

It was - 

No -

A groundbridge, swirling green and purple, opened beneath the other Autobots and they fell safely through.

"Servants of Prime, you will now join your brethren!" Unicron shouted.

He and Bumblebee exchanged smirks. "You got that right."

Starscream didn't bother to look back twice before he leapt off the edge and into the pit, transforming in mid air. Panels snapped and clicked into place. Plating rearranged itself. His wings extended outwards, cutting through the air sharply. Thrusters spit fire. And he fell.

Right into the groundbridge.

Chapter Text

Starscream fell, backplates first, on the cold metal of the Nemesis's control room, wings squished beneath him painfully. He barely managed to roll to the side to avoid Bumblebee crashing straight into him. Above them, the groundbridge closed up again - thankfully with no literal evil incarnate puppetting the body of a dead mech following them through. Starscream got to his pedes with a groan, his frame aching. Too much fighting, especially so soon after he had taken a fusion cannon right through - as far as he could have told - the spark chamber.

The one good thing was that everyone appeared to be accounted for and very much alive. Ultra Magnus was still in the medbay - a parting gift from their new Predacon friends - but other than that, they were all in the control room.

"Is anyone going to tell me," Starscream said, "why that fragger is still alive? And how Unicron is - well, inside him?" 

"Inside him?" Smokescreen echoed.

"Not like that."

"How is this happening?" Arcee said. "I mean, we put out a call inviting refugees back to Cybertron and Unicron's the first in line?"

"Not to mention those Predacons," Bulkhead said. "What have we come home to?"

"I don't need reminding," he offered helpfully. "I'm still sore."

Still, it was a sobering thought. The war was supposed to be over, but it didn't feel over. And even after they were done with this mess, there was still the long, arduous work of rebuilding to attend to. It had taken vorns to destroy Cybertron, and it would surely take vorns to rebuild it. Why couldn't anything be simple? But they were the ones - all of them - who had chosen a war that did this. And it was their responsibility to fix it.

Not that he particularly wanted that responsibility at all.

"What are we supposed to call him anyway? Mega-cron? Uni-tron?" Smokescreen said. Which was a fair thought. Starscream had to stop thinking that it was Megatron - it was not, it was something far, far worse. He didn't know why Megatron scared him more than the physical representation of all evil, but that was a pressing and concerning thought.

"That's your biggest concern right now?" he questioned.

"...Right, right. So what's the game plan?"

"While Unicron now inhabits a mortal form, he is still a god and therefore cannot be defeated by customary means," Ratchet said.

Bumblebee pulled up a communication window on the Nemesis's screens. "Optimus? Wheeljack? This is Bumblebee. We have an urgent situation."

Nothing except the slightly crackling of static. Fantastic. Just fantastic. A god wanted to kill them all, Prime was off gallivanting somewhere in space, and the Allspark was still presumably just as lost as it had been when they arrived here. Starscream felt like gouging out his own optics. Nothing was simple.

He stepped forward and took a look at the screen. He had lived on this ship for far too long, and he knew its systems decently well. "Their signal is online. They can hear us just fine; they just cannot reply."

Arcee didn't waste a nano-klik. "Optimus, if you can hear us, Unicron has found his way back to Cybertron. Repeat, the Chaosbringer is here, on our soil, in the possession of Megatron's frame."

"So what now?" Bulkhead said. "I mean, besides hoping Optimus got the message."

Starscream did not have any answers. Nothing was simple. Nothing had been simple, for a long while.

. . .

"Unicron is back? And with our gracious lord and savior in tow too?" Knockout asked him.

"Unfortunately. There is always some Primus-damned thing happening. Is the war not supposed to be over?" he complained, exasperated.

"Doesn't feel like it," he replied.

Starscream sighed. "We can't - They can't - I just don't know. I don't know what I know anymore. I - Who - Who does know?"

He wrapped brought his knees up to his cockpit and looped his arms around them, suddenly feeling very miserable and very tired. He was scared - scared of more fighting, scared of uncertainty, scared of instability, scared of it never ending. For him it never did. It just continued over and over again in cycles upon cycles upon cycles. Circles upon circles upon circles. And it was all just exhausting. What was the point in going forward when all there was that awaited him was more pain and difficulty and exhaustion?

"Is this ever going to end?"

"Probably not."

"...That's not comforting in the slightest."

"What do you expect? We've been at war for longer than we haven't. And before that did we even live lives worth living?"

Starscream had. He had - He had had everything, hadn't he? His trine, Skyfire, a home. Not having to worry about where his next cube came from or having to fight for his life. It had been a good life. A good life in a broken world that needed to be fixed but - Was it selfish of him? Was it selfish of him that he would have let it all burn if it meant that he had another chance at that life? Forget his planet, forget his species, did Starscream not deserve to be happy?

Did he not deserve another chance to be happy? If he could have gone back in time to when everything was alright and no one was dead, could he have? Would he have? Starscream was not so sure anymore, even though something deep inside him replied, In a sparkbeat. "The war was pointless," he offered dully. 

"You mean it was by the time it got here," Knockout said. "Not all of us led cozy little lives, you know. If we did, there would have been no war in the first place."

Starscream had to admit, he knew very little about Knockout's past before the war. His own past was well known - the manipulations that had led to him becoming Winglord when he had no noble energon in his fuel lines at all were, at least. He had never bothered to ask and that made him feel guilty for a reason that was beyond him. Starscream had first met the cherry mech when he had just been a field medic, joining the Decepticon ranks like countless other bots disillusioned with Cybertronian society as a whole.

And it was not as if he hadn't suffered, either. He was not like Megatron and Soundwave, having to fight and claw for every single thing that they had. He was not like them, no, but that did not mean he didn't have any reason to want change. It was true that Starscream had had many things handed to him on a silver platter - enough money and privilege to attend Iacon's renown science academy, even as a flight frame, certainly. But it was equally true that he had always been responsible for a state that was far weaker than the ones that had deemed it inferior - one that Iacon and its allies viewed as a slice of meat to be cut up and divided as they saw fit.

And it was equally true that those who were supposed to protect all of Cybertron had bombed his home to ash and dust. It was equally true that he had watched his own people suffer and die under the rubble of something they had never asked for. It was equally true that he carried with him the wait of all that he had lost - all that they had all lost. Starscream's pain was not a stagnant thing - it followed him from Cybertron to Earth and back to Cybertron again, like a ghost, like a phantom, like a parasite. It followed him and curled up in his spark chamber like a metallic serpent, refusing to let go once he was in its grasp.

"You don't know that about me," he replied, letting the edge of defensiveness slip into his voice. "I had reason enough to throw the full force of Vos behind Megatron."

"I don't know, because you don't tell me. You don't tell anyone," Knockout said.

Starscream paused. That was true. "In case you haven't noticed, there is no one I trust with that knowledge. The Autobots are my allies, not my friends, and if you have not yet noticed, my trine is long offline."

"How could you forget me?"

"Forgive me for not trusting you," Starscream said, not without some sarcasm. "If I recall correctly, we used each other for our own personal gain. Nothing more."

The other mech edged away slightly from him. He could not tell if there was genuine hurt in those ruby optics or not. But he was surprised at the regret he felt at his own harsh words. "Nothing more? Well, forgive me for thinking that we had... something."

There was a moment of silence. Starscream suddenly felt the need to explain himself, to justify his own words. It was strange. "I trust you," he tried softly. "I... I trust you now. But I don't think I trusted anyone then. Certainly not myself. Everything just feels like a cycle that goes around and around. Anything... vulnerable is something that can be used against me, and there is enough that can be used against me in the first place. No need to pile on more."

"He's dead, Starscream. He can't hurt you. I... No one's going to hurt you."

"Doesn't feel that way, does it?"

They glanced at each other and both laughed, bitter and utterly without humor. There was an understanding between them, forged from nothing other than an experience shared between them that no one else could quite understand. "I'm not the only one who keeps it all to myself, am I?" Starscream said. 

"Well, of course not. You're not special," Knockout said. "I would suppose that there's just as much you don't know about me as I don't know about you."

"I want to know," he blurted without thinking. Then he felt like smacking himself. Why would Starscream say that? Why did Knockout make his processor go in circles and his spark race and make him feel so stupid and clueless? He wasn't sure if he liked the sensation or not, which was strange, because he would have ordinarily hated it.

"Well, I do love talking about myself," he replied. "May as well start with the deep scrap. I can't say I've enjoyed however long it's been since... It's odd to say it aloud. Since Breakdown's been... gone."

"I could have saved him," Starscream said. "I was - Well, I... I could have. But I didn't. It's not - He's not the first one I could have saved and didn't. And probably won't be the last."

"Your trine?"

"All of Vos at this rate. I failed in my most fundamental duty, and I suppose I just have to live with that now. I have to live missing pieces of my spark, knowing that my home is six feet in the ground. That's my punishment, though, isn't it, for failing?"

"What's the alternative? You have to carry it with you until... Until you go to the Allspark, I suppose, if you believe in that."

"You don't?"

Starscream was not a particularly religious mech, and he could not remember the last time he had prayed - really prayed - to Primus or so much as skimmed the pages of the Covenant. Still, the Allspark was always a reassuring thought. But now that Unicron was certainly real, Primus had to be too. And he was not so sure of the thought of a benevolent god, seeing the things he had seen...

"I have to now, don't I? If Unicron is real, Primus must be as well. Although perhaps not as terribly benevolent as he's supposed to be."

"Would we have fought a war that destroyed Cybertron if he was?"

"Probably. We're all terrible anyway."

"I believe in the Allspark," Starscream said, for lack of anything better to say to that. "I don't know how I could carry it all with me if I didn't. If I don't see them again in this life or the next, there is no point in it."

Knockout paused. "I suppose you're correct. But look around, Starscream. How can anyone have faith in anything after... after everything?"

That, Starscream had no answers for. 

"I don't want to go through this anymore. It all just keeps repeating itself - something new happens just when I think it's all ended and it's even worse than before. It just keeps going on and on and on - does it ever stop? Does it ever get better? I'm inclined to say no. I don't want to do this anymore. I'm tired of the pain and exhaustion that just never ends. It keeps on coming and coming and you just have to fight on long enough to see it all happen all over again. There's no point to this and I just want to..." Starscream did not finish his sentence but he thought the meaning was transparent enough.

"I won't pretend like I don't feel the same," Knockout said, scooting closer to him again. Their shoulder struts were nearly touching now. "I'm afraid that there is no point other than to... what, believe that it will be better someday? That it will all end? The pain?"

"It never ends."

"You don't know, unless you live long enough to see it, I suppose."

Starscream offlined his optics, shocked to find the coolant that was rapidly pooling in them. He just felt so miserable and so sick and so tired. Like there was something very twisted indeed eating him from the inside out. A sickness that spread faster and faster. A broken sob escaped Starscream against his will. "I wish I were somewhere else. Anywhere else," he said.

He was surprised to find warm, strong arms wrapping around him, pulling him close and tight. He hugged back after a moment, clutching Knockout very close and very tight to his chestplates. He rested his head in the crook of other mech's neck and he really did want to stop crying, but the coolant did not stop coming. "It's not going to change, is it?" Knockout whispered to him. "I want it to, but I can't hope. Not after the war, not after Breakdown, not after fragging everything."

He suddenly felt so very, very exhausted. "At least I have you," he breathed out faintly, almost like he was scared to say it. The one thing Starscream had yet to lose. Coolant that was not his own brushed his plating.

There was pain in his arms and there was pain inside of him. So, so much pain that neither of them could understand. They could not understand each other's pain, either, different as they were. But they had both lost so much - too much - and that was something they both understood.

There was so much pain.

"Not going anywhere," came the soft reply. "You'll always have me."

"...Likewise."

There was so much pain wrapped between them. There was so much aching loss and grief that became its own being, that intertwined between them and strung them to the past even as the future came crashing forwards. There was so much exhaustion wrapped between them, a heavy ache that settled into every little seam and cavity. But for a moment, however short and however small, there was a way forward, however painful and however exhausting.

I think I love you, he thought, but he did not dare to say it.

Chapter Text

When Starscream walked out of the room some time later, the heaviness that had weighed down on his every panel, seeping through tiny transformation seams all the way down into his spark chamber, seemed to have lightened. The great weight he carried with him everywhere was lighter now and that was a relief. His optics still felt a little watery, his knees a little weak, but something had changed and for that, Starscream was grateful.

It was going to be okay. He was going to figure it all out. Him and Knockout, and at least they would have each other, if nothing and no one else. But there were still things that Starscream could lose, things that he desperately, desperately did not want to lose. There was always more to lose, but he could not let go of what he had just found. Not so soon, not so fast, and if it was up to him, he would never let go at all.

. . .

"I recommend that we utilize the warship's operating systems to search for Megatron's life signal," Ratchet said. The door opened as they entered the Nemesis's main control room - a place that held far too many unpleasant memories for him.

"Doc, that remodel kicked out tail pipes. He might have looked and sounded like old buckethead but it wasn't him," Bulkhead pointed out. Starscream still had difficulty separating the two, but this was - this was Unicron's puppet, not Megatron. Perhaps he was somewhere in there, but he was gone, trapped, dead, and he could not hurt Starscream. He had to remember that.

"That much I know. But even if a fraction of Megatron's spark still resides within his frame, the ship's scanners may pick it up."

Starscream assumed control of the central datapad for a moment. "Allow me," he said. "I called this wretched ship home for far too long, if you fail to recall."

Indeed, the Nemesis's systems were unnervingly familiar, and it was easy to activate the scanners to pick up the life signatures of any Decepticons in the area. Of course, Shockwave had been smart enough to rip out his tracker, just as Starscream had. That felt like a very long time ago. Two signals immediately popped up in their current location - Soundwave and Knockout. After a few nano-kliks, however, a new bright red signal popped online, sporting the portrait of Megatron himself. "There he is," Starscream said, satisfied. "The mech of the hour himself."

"So somewhere inside that new... body armor, he's still alive?" Arcee questioned.

Starscream felt a slight trickle of dread at that - the thought that Megatron was still somewhere in there, however trapped, however helpless, scared him beyond measure. It was supposed to be over, and yet it decidedly was not. "He's done it before," Starscream said with a shrug, trying to keep his emotions in check. "The fragger never stays dead. I would know."

Ah, awkward silence. 

"The coordinates indicate he's left Darkmount," Bumblebee cut in.

Starscream pressed a few buttons on the datapad, triangulating the exact location the signal was coming from. This made him feel slightly triumphant. The literal incarnation of evil, as old as life on Cybertron itself, had not thought to rip out the tracker. After a few nano-kliks, the a new red mark popped online - his current location.

"We were there. Earlier today."

Right. When he had been very much unconscious.

"Predaking's refuge?" Arcee echoed.

"Unicron's retracing our steps?!"

"Whoa, wait, what in Alpha Trion's beard is that?" Smokescreen asked.

A great mass of purple energy had appeared all around the signal and it was spreading rapidly, too. The datapad began to beep urgently and several warnings appeared. Starscream took a step back. It could not be...

"Dark energon," he and Ratchet said at the same time. "But for what purpose?"

"We all saw it," Bumblebee said. "That valley was littered with ancient Predacon bones."

"Unicron's raising an undead army," Arcee concluded grimly.

"...One currently travelling across the Hydrax Plateau toward... the Well of Allsparks," Ratchet said.

"The most direct route to Cybertron's core," Starscream finished, wings hiking up in panic.

What - how? Dark energon could raise the undead - he had seen that much with Skyquake and with... Cliffjumper. He shoved aside the guilt that arose at the thought of the dead Autobot and focused instead on what was happening before his very optics. Predacons were long dead and Cybertron was full of their remains. Predaking alone had been too much for them to defeat, let alone an undead army powered by Unicron himself? How? How were they to do anything at all?

"Unicron clearly seeks to access our planet's core from the same point of entry that we used to restore it," he continued. How could he sound so calm when Cybertron was to fall - again?

"No doubt with every intention to undo our efforts."

"So what do we do?" Bulkhead questioned.

Starscream felt a strange, stupid, ridiculous urge to laugh. Because how many times had he stood here in this very same position, on the precipice of life and death? How many times had he been faced with insurmountable odds and known that he would die, made peace with the fact that he would die? How many times had he chosen to fight rather than run? It all felt so familiar, and yet Starscream knew that he had made the right choice then and that he was making the right choice now. Somewhere out there was a future worth fighting for, and someday it would be a reality, if only he did not give up before then.

"What else?" he asked. "We stay and we fight."

Again.

But what else was there to do?

"Our strongest assets are this warship and whatever relics may be stored in its vaults," Bumblebee said slowly.

"Last time I looked, just the polarity gauntlet and the immobilizer," Smokescreen said. "I'll round up the secret weapons."

Starscream turned toward the all-too familiar control panel of the ship. Then something occurred to him. "The control panel is simple enough to use," he said. "The Nemesis's weapon systems are extensive but simple. Take care of that; there is something I need to do."

He didn't elaborate and instead turned and left through the same door. Starscream wasn't entirely sure of what he was doing, but he felt that it was the right thing to do. He went below the deck to the brig and stopped in front of one of the closed, locked doors. He hesitated for a moment before inputting the code and letting the door slide open with a gentle hiss. Soundwave's helm snapped up and that cold, expressionless visor fixed him with a cold glare.

"I need your help," he said. Best to keep it straight-forward.

"For what?" A recording of Shockwave played back at him.

"I'll spare you the details, but Unicron, piloting our late illustrious leader's body is on his way to the Well of Allsparks with an army of undead Predacons. If he makes it there, that is the end. Not just for us but for our entire species and planet, and for certain this time. I doubt there's much we can do but - Do the right thing, Soundwave, just this once."

"Query - Lord Megatron - status?" Soundwave asked, stringing several different voices together broken apart by bursts of static.

"I would hope that he's offline," Starscream replied bluntly. "But there's enough of him left in there that his signal shows up on the ship's scanners. You can't save him. I'll shove that sword through his spark chamber a second time if I have to."

"Soundwave: loyal. However; logical course of action: aid Autobots in order to ensure the continued survival of Cybertron. Action: necessary. Soundwave: will follow. For now."

Starscream leaned against the cool metal tile of the wall, feeling slightly relieved. How much things had changed since the war. How much things could still change. How far they had both fallen and how high they had both risen. Much had changed, at least, that much was clear. There was no time to be sentimental, no time for reflection, no time for emotion. But still, it was like a moment frozen in time, a snapshot of the two of them who had given everything for something they now knew to be empty.

"Do you regret it? Any of it? The war we fought that took everything from us and gave nothing back." Starscream had to know, because he himself was not sure. He had fought, at first, for something he believed in, but that was all gone now. Had been gone for so long.

"...Soundwave: is unsure."

"Ha. At least we agree on one thing."

Silence between them and history between them. So much history. So much pain. So much shared and so much not shared. 

Too much.

. . .

Starscream heard each of the ship's weapons being activated as he made his way down the hallway to the other room, the location of which he had long since memorized. it was time to make the stand that he was certain would be the last one of all, and most likely the most important one he would ever make. Too much hung in a fragile, fragile balance. Too much was so terribly at stake. Too much to lose and too little to gain.

He punched in the code and stepped into the room. "Just who I wanted to see," Knockout drawled from where he was sitting in his usual position against the wall.

"Unicron has an undead army and he's trying to destroy Cybertron with it," Starscream said bluntly, skipping the admittedly lengthy exposition.

"What?"

"An undead army of Predacons. Unicron. The Well of Allsparks. We need your help. I... need your help." He got so very dangerously close to saying what he really wanted to say - I need you.

"Well, I'm flattered, of course. But what the hell do you expect me to do against a god? What do you expect any of us to do?'

"I have no idea," he snapped, feeling very exasperated and very helpless. "We have to at least try to do something. Cybertron lives again, and I will not allow it to fall once more so soon. Something needs to stand between the Well and Unicron. It may as well be us."

"You do realize you're volunteering yourself as cannon fodder, right?" Knockout said.

"At least I'll know I tried."

"We're all going to die. You also realize that, correct?"

"Well, of course I do. But if there's even the slightest chance -"

"You know we could leave now, right? There are still long distance escape pods on this ship, and Cybertron is just about a lost cause anyway. We could leave, Starscream. And yet you choose to stay. I don't understand that about you."

"I'm done running. Now and forever. I would rather die this very cycle trying to do something good with my miserable little life than run like a coward for the thousandth time."

"If you have a deathwish, Starscream, I'll indulge you. I suppose we'll die together."

And then a warmth filled him, because he would not have had it any other way.

It felt bittersweet. The stakes had never been quite so high, not even during the second battle for the Omega Lock. There was a high chance that everything would go wrong and Starscream was sure that it would. He did not stand a chance against literal Unicron, but he had to try. That was something that he had learned since he had defected from the Decepticons so, so long ago. It was always better to fight.

Even if it meant getting injured. Even if it meant a bruised ego. Even if it meant laying down your own life. Because there was something out there beyond survival for survival's sake. There was something bigger than himself. There was a planet whose fate would bed ecided and a species whose fate would be decided. Some things went deeper and bigger than just himself. Some things were worth dying for. 

Some things always would be.

. . .

Starscream was barely afforded any shocked glances when he made his way back to the control room, their two resident Decepticon prisoners in tow. They needed all the help they could get - with the way the purple mass was looking on the screen, the Nemesis, armed to the dentae as it was, would still not stand the slightest of chances. "Are we there yet?" Smokescreen asked as they walked in.

"Right on schedule," Bulkhead said.

"...And so is Unicron."

Starscream glanced down through the massive glass windows of the Nemesis and barely choked back a gasp. Beside him, Knockout stiffened too. "Are you...?" He could hardly believe his optics.

It was an ocean. An ocean of black and purple masses, moving forward as one. Limbs bent the wrong way and sharp dentae that poked through metal gums and bones that stuck out through plating. Creatures twisted by dark energon, stumbling forward in a way that was decidedly not natural. Their frames folded over itself, joints moving the wrong way and plating shifting in a way that was just not natural. Starscream could not even tell what he was looking at for a few nano-kliks, because it was just one great big writhing mass.

And so, it began.

And so, it ended.

Chapter Text

Starscream had never anything quite as blatantly unnatural and thanklessly terrifying in his entire existence. He had seen Shockwave's experiments, his twistings of Cybertronian life in such a way that could barely even be considered alive. He had fought in a war that had gone to a point where either side would have done anything to win. And yet - still he had never seen anything like this. A tidal wave of corpses, hurtling toward the Nemesis.

Beings with no spark whatsoever, no soul, nothing. Nothing but pure dark energon, pure evil. Dark twisted metal plating streaked with ash and dust, shot through with veins of purple energy - dark energon. Atop of one was - Not Megatron. Unicron. Starscream had relished every moment of seeing Megatron dead, but seeing his body twisted into this, mutilated and desecrated, home to something so utterly unnatural and horrific that he could hardly even wrap his processor around it.

The Nemesis opened fire. It was a sight to behold, even now, blasters and cannons of all shapes and sizes unfurling from the sides of the ship. Energon was converted into lasers, flying downwards in short, rapid waves. Where they hit, fire set, smoke rising upwards rapidly. Bursts of red and orange unfurled like flowers. The blasts did not stop - they would not stop until the ship was entirely drained of energon. The Predacons - if they could even be called that anymore - were destroyed in waves, turning into dark ashen dust, stained with purple even then.

Starscream had no love for the creatures - if anything, he was glad that they were largely extinct. But for something once great, something once so full of life and so full of power, turned into mindless, sparkless servants for Unicron... That was the ultimate horror, was it not? "We're all dead, Screamer," Knockout said, a little too casually.

"Oh, when haven't we been?" he said. A sense of hopelessness dawned on him but - What was there to fear? Starscream was going to make one last stand for the sake of all that he stood for, for his home. One last time. And then there would be peace and there would be quiet and his spark would become one with the Allspark, one with Primus, as it had been before, as all things would be at the end of all things.

Behind them, Cybertron's two moons loomed. Before them, destruction loomed. All of a sudden, the Predacons spread their bony, ashen wings and took to the skies. Starscream watched as they soared upwards, one by one, swooping towards the Nemesis. It was an entire flock of them, so many that it hurt to look at. Not a nano-klik was wasted. The Nemesis surged forward, cannons firing continuously.

"Odds of success: are low," Soundwave said in that monotone, careless voice of his. "Destruction of Cybertron: imminent."

"We know," he retorted, irritated. "But if there's even the slightest chance - is it not worth it to try?"

"Our own termination: imminent."

"Oh, there's Mr. Optimism," Knockout said. "Of course we're all going to die. But may as well go out with a bang, no?"

The Predacons advanced faster and faster, bony wings slicing through the air like a blade through metal plating. They were faster than Starscream had thought possible, moving forward with the singular goal to destroy them. The Nemesis did not stop at all. The cannons continued to go off without anything resembling hesitation, blowing the Predacons into little tiny pieces before they could get within a few feet of the ship.

But there were so many. They flew in every direction, some toward the back end of the ship. And there was nothing they could do. For every one Predacon that the blasting cannons hit, ten more slipped easily past their defenses, flying forward. "I have to get out there. It's hopeless in here," Starscream said breathlessly. He could not simply stand here and watch as it all fell apart. He turned toward the airlock but Knockout stopped him, holding.a firm servo to his shoulder.

"You will die. Use your processor for once, Screamer, and think. You will die."

"I know that! But -"

Starscream was cut off by a loud thud!. He jumped back just as a Predacon smacked against the glass paneling near where he was standing. He and Knockout both screamed like sparklings. It opened a mouth lined full of sharp, jagged, broken detae and let out a roar. Starscream could see the lines of dark energon flowing through it, some visible below thin, cracked metal plates. It charged up its fire breath, about to -

He transformed his one hand into a blaster and - A streak of bright red fire roared past them outside of the glass. The Predacon let out a scream before it was blasted away into nothing. It was not the Nemesis - it's cannons looked entirely different. So what - who - how? 

Fire continued to rain down from the sky, great massive red flames, flickering and roaring, devouring everything in its path. Predacons fell out of the sky, torched by the blazing hot flames. "Is it Optimus?" Arcee asked.

Starscream looked up and saw - not the Prime. Predaking. Dark red and orange and yellow, stark against the night sky, every inch grand and elegant and deadly. He was the source of the fire, of those blazing red-hot flames. Behind him were two other Predacons - the same ones, in fact, that had attacked them. Fire descended, seemingly, from the very heavens, blasting more and more Predacons out of the sky.

"Predaking," he breathed. He was unsure of what he felt - but, perhaps, gratitude that the Predacon had ultimately chosen to stand with them and do the right thing. Things looked up for a moment - and then something collided with the back of the ship, making the entire control room rock and sway.

Starscream instinctively reached out to steady himself with the closest object - which happened to be Knockout. His faceplates heated up.

He had no visual on the back of the ship, but the view from the cameras there popped up on Soundwave's visor. The Predacons that had escaped the cannons were mounting an assault from the back, bursts of purple fire slamming into the sides of it. There were no cannons there and the ship was too large to do the proper evasive maneuvers necessary to evade the smaller, nimbler Predacons.

More explosions rocked the ship. Soundwave's visor switched to the cameras on the side of the ship - which was so obscured with thick, heavy smoke and orange fire to make out anything. Then the ship began to fall, faster and faster. It was... The ship was going down. The Predacons continued to spit purple fire. The assault was heavy and un-ending and utterly unrelenting. They were not living. They had no need for rest, no need to wait for their fire to recharge. They were machines, marching forever forward until their goal was achieved or until they were terminated. The Nemesis did not stand a chance. They did not stand a chance.

The weakness, the softness of life, of good, of Primus himself was nothing compared to the unrelenting, hard, never-ending, utterly inevitable compared to the resilience of evil, of Unicron, of everything that waited at the end of all things. The inevitability of it all - of evil, of death, of the end - struck Starscream so deeply. No matter how hard he tried to fight, no matter how hard he resisted, no matter what... He would die. They would all die. All that waited for him at the end of every road, at the end of every possibility, every future, everything... was Unicron. Was death, was evil, was destruction, was the tearing and ripping apart of everything that was good, everything that was life.

All that waited for him in the end was the end of all things.

The ship was losing altitude rapidly. Several warnings began to appear on the datapad screens and the room began to tilt rapidly at an alarming angle. Starscream gripped onto the pillar for support and Knockout joined him. Sparks began to explode outwards from the control panel, bright reds and oranges. The ship plummeted downwards, faster and faster, until the tip of it collided with the ground.

Starscream nearly lost his grip on the pillar and he cursed, feeling the impact of the collision rip through the entire ship and deep into his frame. The rest of the ship hit the ground with a thud and the control panels continued to spark, more and more. He was barely able to see anything through the cracked glass panels on account of the smoke that permeated everything, that blocked out the sky and the moons.

For a seeker, the sky was salvation. And without the sky, for a seeker, there was nothing at all.

Starscream finally managed to let go of the pillar once the ship had ground to a complete halt, now very much grounded. He stumbled to his pedes, struggling to balance on the now-slanted floor. "It is so over," Knockout said, holding out a servo to steady him. "We are so done."

"You sound so calm."

"Well, none of this will be my problem anymore in... let's give in a few breems."

"We are not going to die!"

"Look around, Starscream! It's over."

Starscream ignored him and found the exit. He transformed one servo and blasted the door open. He stumbled out, dusty and bruised, followed by all the others. Before him was the well that they had used to restore Cybertron - a tunnel that led directly to the center of the planet, directly to Cybertron's spark, directly to Primus. Everyone was alive and everyone was accounted for, by some wild miracle.

He barely even had time to feel relieved, however. On the horizon was a dark swarm - the Predacons. There were too many of them to count, too many to even comprehend. All the ones that they had obliterated were a tiny, miniscule, laughable minority compared to what they were faced with now. Starscream felt his spark sink. Knockout was right. It was over.

In the air, Predaking and his two other Predacons transformed and landed with a heavy thud. It never ceased to surprise him how large they were, especially compared to him. No one had time to say anything before another heavy shape was slamming into the ground in a landing that was simultaneously hard and soft. A Predacon - an undead one - and... Unicron. Not Megatron, but Unicron. 

There was a certain energy that radiated off of the god in waves. Right now it hung in the air loose and harmless, doing nothing at all. But it was restless. It wanted to kill, wanted to destroy, wanted to devour. It longed to rip out all their sparks, longed for pain and death and spilled energon. It tried so hard to break free and the moment it gained even the barest semblance of freedom, it would run wild and free, destroying anything and everyone that stood in its path.

Starscream could feel the sheer power of that force. It was something deep and ancient and primal, something that was simultaneously so grotesquely unnatural and so natural and innate to life, all at the same time. Unicron and Primus were two sides of the same coin, and the very same force that created all Cybertronian life, that placed the sparks in freshly forged frames and retrieved them from cold, still frames, could tear it apart just as easy. 

This was all wrong. This was all so wrong.

"My legions, the time is upon us. Destroy them with your dragon fire!" Unicron commanded. He sounded every bit like Megatron - and yet not at all. Starscream did still truly believe that somewhere in Megatron's wretched spark he had wanted, truly, the best for them all and the best for Cybertron. But Unicron? Unicron did not care about any of that. He did not, even, care about power. All he cared about was destroying everything in his path completely and utterly.

He was the darkness at the end of all things. Unicron was inevitable. Unicron was unstoppable.

The undead Predacons took to the sky by the dozens, swarms upon swarms of them. Starscream gave up trying to count how many there were - their numbers seemed to be infinite, and they may as well have bee. They surged forward as one, an enormous cloud of corpses, pulsing with dark energon. Soulless, mindless things that seeked nothing other than to destroy. Starscream felt so small in comparison, even with the massive warship right behind him.

Was this how humans felt in the face of a Cybertronian? So weak, so helpless, so completely and utterly powerless. "We're the last line of defense," Bumblebee said.

"There's no one coming," he breathed. Truly, there was not. Cybertron remained a dead planet, and any other Cybertronians still scattered to the four winds were nowhere to be seen or found. All that stood between the annihilation of Cybertron and of their species future was... them. It was laughable, especially when Starscream craned his head to see the entirety of the Predacons that rushed forward, broken, twisted wings beating as they sliced through the air, marching infinitely onward.

"I would recommend," Predaking said, "to leave that to those more suited for the task. Skylynx, Darksteel, allow nothing to enter the Well."

The three Predacons transformed and took flight. In front of them, the writhing mass of the undead Predacons spun themselves into a spire that reached so high that Starscream had to crane his head to see. They moved as one horrific creature, like a serpent rearing back its head before lunging forward, fangs dripping with venom. They began to dive sharply and at that same moment, fire erupted from the Predacon's mouths, forming one solid plume of flames.

Starscream could feel that itch inside him again - the itch to fly, the itch to fight, the itch to do something other than stand here and wait to die. Before him, the Predacons doubled their efforts, their firing glowing red and hot, tearing through the never-ending ranks of the undead. There was a sudden whir and swish as a glowing green and purple portal opened in midair, directly in the path of the Predacons. He turned to find Soundwave's visor alight with data, rerouting their location to some distant planet.

The Predacons did not bother to stop in their path at all, nor to consider the obstacle that had just sprung forward. Dozens and dozens of them surged into the groundbridge, disappearing into the other side rather than continuing onwards into their path. For a moment Starscream was hopeful. More and more of them disappeared inwards and the red-hot flames of the other Predacons tore through them like tissue paper.

But Unicron was not stupid. The undead had no minds or souls of their own. They were an extension of his own twisted power, as much a part of him as anything else. The Predacons redirected their path of flight to smoothly avoid the groundbridge and a burst of that twisted, sickening energy barrelled right into it. The portal snapped shut, visibly against Soundwave's will. Starscream did not need a second sign.

He turned to Knockout and all the things that he could not say bubbled up to the surface, begging to be let out into the open, begging to come to fruition. "If I do not survive this," he said - and he had no doubts that he wouldn't, "I hope that you're... happy. I hope you find happiness. You deserve it. And I..." I love you. But I will never have the courage to say it, not in the face of this, not in the face of anything.

He did not wait for a reply. He transformed and shot into the air, doing a quick corkscrew motion to right himself. Starscream veered to the right immediately to dodge the flailing claws of one of the undead Predacons. He soared upwards, shooting smoothly past all of them, ducking to either side to avoid bursts of purple fire. Once Starscream hovered comfortably above them all - and mindless as they were, none pursued him - he opened fire immediately, raining it down upon them.

Every single one of his shots hit. How could they not? Starscream did not stop. He followed the swarm of Predacons, wings slicing through the air and thrusters spitting smoke and fire. He trailed at a slight distance, picking off any one that was within his line of sight. Starscream did not stop. He could not stop. It was not long before sharpened talens and claws were slicing at him. Starscream swooped rapidly downwards, losing altitude rapidly.

At the last moment, he picked himself back up, twirled in the air, and shot back up, twisting his frame as he did. Starscream spun and spun all the way up, unleashing gunfire in every direction. He fire indiscriminately, in every direction, knowing that no matter where his shots landed, they would hit something. There were just so many of them.

Starscream knew that he was fighting a losing battle and all of a sudden, he did not care. There was nothing more noble than to give his own life for the greater good. He knew that now and he saw that now. He had not lived a particularly good life, nor had he been a particularly good mech. Starscream was not a good person now, either, though he was trying to be. He had not been a good person then, and he had not tried to be. Still, it had been a good life, and though he sincerely wished it could have been a little longer, he valued it for what it was, not for what it could have been.

The undead Predacons slammed into the living ones, barely bothering to stop in their paths. There was nothing that could stop them now. The Predacons soared upwards for a moment before shooting deep into the Well. Starscream rose up higher and higher, gaining altitude, before diving down in a quick corkscrew to follow. It was his last glimpse of Cybertron before it all went still and quiet, and he did not even bother to take too close a look. There was no time.

He continued to fire, picking off Predacon after Predacon. Eventually, he dispatched both his missiles, watching as they danced downwards, followed by trails of smoke, until they rocked the edges of the Well with explosions. Starscream opened a commlink on his HUD.

Starscream to Knockout

I'll see you on the other side, I suppose. Not the worst way to go. Although, I do wonder if it will hurt. But no matter what happens, I will try and find you wherever we go next. I owe you that much.

He closed his HUD and focused instead on what was before him. The Well was a deep, deep tunnel that led into the very core of Cybertron. It was perfectly smooth and uniform, made of worn, aged metal as old as Cybertron itself. Starscream continued to fire, refusing to accept the inevitable. That was the beauty of it all, wasn't it? Evil was inevitable and the end was inevitable and still they chose to fight on. Still he chose to fight on.

The world ended as the world was. With pain and in pain. But in between the pain there was beauty and there was hope and there was love. And in the end, was that not the only thing that mattered at all? That they had tried? That they had been here? That they had left their worn pedesteps onto the soil of this planet despite knowing how it would all end? Was that not the only thing at all that mattered anymore?

Starscream followed the Predacon swarm down. Down, down, down.

For him, the air, the sky, flying, meant salvation. It meant safety. It meant escape. And now he descended, down and down and down, deeper and deeper. Starscream flew down for what must have been breems. He continued to pick off the Predacons, one by one, even though he knew sorely what came next. And he found that he had no regrets, though deep down he must have had many. It had not been a good life, but it had been a life, and he valued what he had been given in it.

And suddenly, he saw it. A deep, wide chamber that seemed to be an endlessly large pavilion. In its center was a pulsing blue core. Starscream was once again overwhelmed with energy - but it was not twisted, not warped like Unicron's had been. Instead, he felt as if he was being filled up to the core with warmth, with love, with hope, with kindness, with everything worth fighting for, with all the reasons he was here, standing his ground, rather than running as he always had.

The world was a beautiful, terrible place. And although this was the way it ended, it had always been worth fighting for. That was what Starscream realized now, and he thought that perhaps it was a little too late for that. But Primus had a plan, and if this was the way his story ended, he trusted in that. He accepted that. Without question, without a fight. It had not been a good life, but it had been a life, and perhaps it was time to let go of it and move on to the next world.

The Predacon in the lead surged downwards and the rest followed. Starscream followed. It edged close enough to brush that bright blue energy and then - and then something very peculiar happened. The Predacon stopped dead in its tracks, one talon still reaching out. It let out a screech of primal, desperate pain - the pure, unadulterated sound of two things that were never meant to collide colliding.

Its lifeless, sparkless optics went wide. And then - and then it crumbled into dust. Just like that. Booms! echoed rapidly through the tunnel as the Predacons all around him turned to nothing but ash and dust. Starscream veered to the side to avoid the falling debris. He stopped to hover in midair and next to him, he saw the three Predacons doing the same, watching in wonder as that blue energy remained untouched, as the undead all around them began to fall.

An understanding passed between them, though no words were spoken. Optimus had returned with the Allspark and just like that, they had been saved. But what had happened between the four of them, knowing just how close it had all been...

Starscream could barely wrap his processor around it. He was not going to die. Not this cycle. Not any cycle soon. It was over. Cybertron was safe. Cybertron lived again. It was all over. And he had won. They had all won. Unicron would not destroy their home. Not now, not like this.

He could hardly process it, and yet some part of him lit up so unspeakably bright with joy. It was not over.

Not this cycle.

. . .

On the surface, Optimus and the others were waiting. The Prime held between his servos a small contraption pulsing with purple energy. "As a being comprised of pure energy," Optimus said, "Unicron's anti-spark was able to be vulnerable to this reliquary of the Primes."

"Where is the Allspark, then?" Starscream questioned, his voice quieter than it usually was. His frame felt weak and he felt faint. Knockout was next to him and that sent - well, that sent a burst of joy running through him. That was not their last goodbye. They had a future. A future that loomed up, not terrifying for once in his life.

Before Optimus could reply, Unicron - no, Megatron, now that Unicron's very essence had been trapped - stood. His new frame was hefty and strong, still pulsing with power. Starscream felt a shiver of fear despite himself and it was all he could do not to tremble. He felt a soft, warm pressure against his servo and looked down to see Knockout holding it, rubbing gentle circles around his palms wordlessly.

Megatron's optics were red again, and not that sickly shade of purple. He walked, very slowly, to where Optimus stood. "The Decepticons are no more," he said in his own voice. "I now know the true meaning of oppression and have thus lost my taste for inflicting it. There is no future left for me on Cybertron, nor a future left for any semblance of the Decepticon faction. In return, I ask only for the peace of an eternity spent an exile."

His ruby gaze raked over Starscream. He found that he did not shrink back - not at all. Instead, he held his former master's gaze steadily. Megatron offered no apologies and Starscream offered no forgiveness. But he could tell that the other now knew what it was like to be afraid, to be powerless, to lack any semblance at all of control. What it felt like to be crushed under the heel of another. There was no forgiveness or kindness between them, but there was a finality to it. A finality that Starscream so, so welcomed.

Because it was truly over now.

He heard a pedestep to his left and turned to find Soundwave stepping out from behind him toward Megatron. "Soundwave: has followed Megatron since the beginning," he said. Not in a recording. In his true voice, the voice he had once given up for the Decepticons. "Soundwave: will follow Megatron to the end."

Starscream received a ping on his HUD that very moment.

Soundwave to Starscream

Soundwave: is thankful to Starscream. Soundwave: hopes Starscream will find happiness.

No one stopped the both of them when they transformed and took flight, streaking away into the night sky, away from Cybertron and toward a future of their own.

"In order to both protect the Allspark and secure Unicron's defeat, it was necessary for me to empty the vessel's contents into... the Matrix of Leadership. As such, my own spark can no longer be separated from the multitude of others within me."

No... Knockout squeezed his servo tighter and he squeezed back.

"Are you telling us... that you are now... one with the Allspark?" Ratchet said.

"That's - that's what you say when someone kicks... the..." Smokescreen said.

"To not return the Allspark to the Well would be to prevent future generations of new life from existing on Cybertron. My quest must be completed."

"Optimus... I did not return to save a life... only to lose the one I care most about."

"Ratchet's restored planets," Bulkhead protested. "He'll find a way to save you."

"We can turn to Vector Sigma," Arcee said. "Just like before."

But Starscream felt that he alone understood, though he did not say it. One's own life was nothing compared to the entirety of the future. One's own spark was nothing compared to what needed to be done. Sacrifices had to be made for the sake of the future, for the sake of the greater good, and that was something he understood.

"Because the Matrix must now be relinquished with the Allspark, it cannot be restored or passed down to another. But while this may very well be mark the end of the Age of Primes, leadership can be earned with or without the Matrix. And, in my view, you have each acted as a Prime. As even Megatron has demonstrated on this day, every sentient being possesses the capacity for change," Optimus said. At this, the wings on his back activated.

Starscream felt a sense of sorrow settle over him. He had fought the Prime for so long, and yet the only reason he stood here was because of him. 

"I ask only this of you, fellow Autobots. Keep fighting the noblest of fights."

He watched as Optimus soared upwards. He watched as Optimus plummeted into free fall. He watched as the Allspark returned to where it was always meant to be. He watched as something ended and something else began.

And then he was gone.

And for a few kliks, nothing happened.

And then Starscream felt it. What he had felt down at the very bottom of the Well. That overwhelming sense of good, of life, of everything that had been created, of everything that could someday be destroyed. The warmth of hope in the wake of a world that was often cruel, that was often inevitable, that marched onward regardless of anything. The warmth of love in a world that often twisted it. The warmth of goodness in a world that was often evil, sometimes for no reason at all.

Then the sparks began to explode, up and outwards. They were every color and shape and size, bright like a supernova, burning like a shooting star. They trailed up and then forwards, followed by brilliant, glowing tails of color.

Starscream had never quite seen anything so beautiful.

And somewhere in there was a purple spark and a blue spark and a white spark. And somewhere in there, they told him that a future waited for him. And somewhere in there, they told him to love again. And somewhere in there, they told him that they would never leave him. And somewhere in there, they told him that he would see them once more.

In front of him was his past and before him was his future. And he clutched the servo of someone he had thought that he had lost, who he wanted to build a future with.

And in the end, it had not all been for nothing. It had been for this, beautiful, brilliant this.

In order to fly, one had to learn how to fall. How to plummet, how to sink, how to give yourself over to free fall. In order to fly, one had to learn how to fall. Starscream knew how to fall now. And to fall was not always so devastating. Because the first step to flying was falling.

He had fallen.

But now? It was different now. He had fallen, and it was now time to fly.

It was time to rise.