Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Shoot them."

He couldn't do it.

He couldn't shoot his trinemates.

Even with the Grey gun in his servos and the loud commanding voice of his leader, he couldn't do it.

Yes, Thundercracker defected to the Autobots, and yes, Skywarp was currently trying to defend him. But he just can't.

They were his trinemates.

They were his responsibility. 

He was theirs just as much as he was to them.

His everything.

So he stood there, frozen, with his eyes wide, staring at his trinemates who were frozen just as he was. Thundercracker was shot down and now sat on the rubble of the battlefield, while Skywarp was crouched next to him.

Blaster fire and screams could still be heard, but it was all so distant. As if he was watching from a screen on the other side of a dark room.

"Shoot."

The Grey gun repeated; he hadn't even realized his servos were trembling so much until he noticed how the light reflected off the purple insignia was so unstable. 

He couldn't. He can't. He won't.

"No."

"Shoot, or you die with them."

Die with them? That is a fate better than living knowing you killed your own trinemates, but he can't let them die. It would be so selfish to drag them down with him.

But he can't deny Megatron's command; it would only lead to a world of pain later. Not just that, Megatron would most likely kill them himself.

But he obviously won't kill his own trinemates, that is out of the question. 

He had to find a way to keep them safe.

It doesn't even matter what happens to him as long as they walk out of this battlefield alive and well.

An idea popped into his head.

He'd regret it.

It would hurt his trinemates...

But he'd already lost enough to megatrons command.

And they deserve to live more than he does.

"As you command, lord Megatron."

With that being said, his servos no longer shook as he strengthened his grip on the gunformer in his grasp.

Then pointed it at his own head.

"You will command me no longer."

"WAIT YOU FOOL DON-"

He closed his eyes then pressed the trigger, and it all went quiet.

Chapter Text

"STAR!!" The screams of his trinemates caused him to open his optics. 

He saw as his trinemates launched forward to catch something from falling. They caught a seeker's frame, the gun in its servo transforming back to root mode, and then staring at the body with with shock written all over his face. The two carefully lowered the body to lay it on the ground. 

"No no no...please, Star, don't go. I'm sorry, just not like this, no..." Thundercracker said as one of his servos shakily hovered over something sparking from the greying frame's head. His optics filled with panic as coolant started building up. 

Skywarp sat on the other side of the seeker—he shook more than a cybercat soaked in cold solvent—and held on to the arm of the unfamiliar seeker, his venting was uneven and ragged. "Star? Y-you can't go yet; we'll get you fixed, I swear. J-just hold on a little longer!" Skywarp finally choked out while frantically looking around like a medic would suddenly appear. 

Starscream then noticed a familiar large white frame running toward them with just as much panic in his optics. Skyfire knelt down near Thundercracker—who was now crying his optics out—and put a servo on his shoulder, though Skyfire's optics never left the offline frame in their grasp. "Oh Primus..." Skyfire murmured. 

He could see a few Autobots—including the prime—stop fighting and stare. 

Who was this seeker?? Why were they holding them and calling them star? Is that not his nickname? He was right here in front of them! 

But he didn't quite feel like he was there. 

Everything in him felt so light, yet he also felt as though his armor was now made of a dense rock that even mountains couldn't hold up. His mind felt fuzzy, and the sound of static filled his audials. 

Words wouldn't come out of his vocalizer—it felt like he didn't even have the components to make noise to begin with—so he just stared. 

Looking at the frame, it looked familiar, but with most of their head gone and the paint turning grey, he couldn't quite tell who it was. 

What is going on? He was just holding Megatron in his alt mode, and then he...pulled the trigger... 

That's when it hit him: the offline frame in front of him was not that of a stranger. 

It was his own. 

He heard the Grey gunformer mumble a curse before slowly stepping away. He yelled at the others to retreat before taking off into the air with the rest of the Decepticons following. 

Or at least most of the Decepticons. 

The air force of the Decepticons had not gone to retreat; Seekers were starting to surround his offline frame. All were too shocked to say anything; some lowered their heads and wings in respect to their former air commander. 

No one dared to utter a word, even when the Prime himself started walking to the center of the circle of fliers. Surprisingly, they moved out of the way for him. 

The Prime stood next to him and...glanced at him?? It was just for a moment, but he could swear he saw the prime look at him. How? Isn't he no longer visible to others? 

"We can have him buried with the other fallen warriors, if you wish." The Prime said sympathetically while looking at his trinemate and Skyfire. 

After a few moments Skyfire went to pick up his grey frame—a really unflattering color on him, by the way—and walked past the prime and through him. 

That felt so weird 

His trinemates were quick to follow behind Sky and also went through him; he noticed that they both shivered when they did so. 

The prime glanced at him again before following behind. Yeah, no, that HAS to be on purpose. 

It didn't take long for the other fliers to follow as well, which was comforting in a way, knowing that they at least cared enough to be there for his funeral. 

After a moment of staring at the puddle of energon that had dripped out of his head, he finally found it within him to walk after them. 

As he followed, the stark reality hit him like a physical blow. 

Oh, Primus, he's dead, actually dead. 

Why am I still here? Am I not supposed to be gone after death? Why am I not one with the AllSpark? 

What am I going to do?? 

Maybe this is punishment for all my actions... 

He knows he wasn't the best bot out there...oh, who is he kidding? He was a fragging mess. War crimes can be a start, and murder too. What about all the bioweapons he created?? Yeaaahhhh, nooo, he wasn't even close to being a decent bot, let alone a good one. 

It doesn't take a genius to figure out that he wouldn't go anywhere good after death. 

Though, this all feels a bit...underwhelming. Just stay a ghost forever? He can't even interact with anyone! 

This is that kind of psychological torture that slowly drives the victim insane. And he knows it's a very effective one; he's done it to others plenty of times before! ...yeah, add that to the list of horrible things he's done. 

Still, in comparison to what he's done while being alive, it doesn't seem enough. He's hurt so many; hell, even in death he's hurt his own trinemates! 

Maybe this is a start to my actual torture? Witnessing the consequences of my actions...I suppose there are worse fates after death. 

Well...at least I can still be with my trinemates. 

☆————————☆ 

He wasn't where he was expecting to be. 

Both factions had agreed on one place to bury all of their dead, some part of the desert that the flesh creatures of this planet did not benefit from—incompetence at using their surroundings to their advantage, if you ask him— But instead of being in a desert, he found himself standing in a part of a forest that was filled with greenery. 

Whatever animals were once there had run the moment the first of them landed. The place was filled with all kinds of plants: green plants, yellowish-green plants, slightly more yellowish plants, plants with colors other than yellow and green like pink, and trees. 

Ok, maybe that's not descriptive enough, but it's not like he'd waste his time learning about the plants on this planet when he could be scheming against Megatron! 

Though, he did know a bit about trees; some apparently live for hundreds of years—which may not be a lot of time for a Cybertronian but is significantly longer than how long the other organics on this dirt planet exist for—and there are many different kinds with different colors of their bark and leaves. 

It is slightly fascinating how wood is not a thing on other planets, which makes it very rare, yet the humans seem to be so obsessed with diamonds. It makes no sense when diamonds are one of the most common things in space, and still they are somehow so much more valuable to them. They are made from planets simply clashing. Another reason those flesh creatures are so much lesser than they are! 

Enough thinking about organic plantae; he needs to focus on the now! He goes to stand next to his trinemates, as he seemed to have strayed to go stare at a tree of some kind. 

The ride here didn't take long; when the others had started to fly, he realized he couldn't transform but instead could just...float around?? It felt so unnatural; he doesn't have the foggiest clue as to how he even activated it; he just suddenly found himself in the air. 

What the heck are they doing here anyway? The place felt slightly familiar, but he just couldn't place a digit on exactly why that is... Surely nowhere important. 

Starscream watched as the seekers started to dig up a hole large enough to fit his remains in. "Ah, so this is where I'm going to be buried." His trinemates didn't help; all Thundercracker could do was stare at the ground with empty optics as Skywarp cried into his shoulder. 

The prime was helping them for some reason, near him were his second in command and third in command—Jazz and Prowl—as well as his chief medical officer, Ratchet. Ratchet stood slightly behind and closer to Skyfire. 

Skyfire still held the body; he shook ever so slightly. It would seem that he was holding up well to anyone else looking, but Starscream knew him. The moment sky was out of sight of any unwanted optics, he'd break; it was something he knew about him since his academy days. 

In front of his teachers or peers, he'd be so gentle and kind, even when they did nothing but disrespect him, but the moment they were in the comfort of their own dorm, he'd go off and curse every single one with insults even Starscream hadn't known existed. 

Watching as Skyfire slowly lowered his body into the hole, Starscream wanted to hug him, to apologize for causing this. He knew there really wasn't any other way, but still, he hurt him. Once the body was inside, the seekers began to bury him. 

Skyfire went to pick out a rock from a nearby cave. While they were waiting, the Autobots looked among each other, and so did the Seekers. The seekers had defied Megatron's command by not retreating, and with no Starscream, there wasn't anyone to defend them from the tyrant. The stark reality of their situation was starting to set in. 

They'd most likely get slagged... 

The coneheads looked a bit nervous; one of them looked like he'd say something, but then Skyfire returned with the rock. 

It wasn't anything too special—which is a bit offensive, but it is made up for with how nice his burial area is—just large enough for his designation and title to be written. 

Thundercracker walked forward. "Can I sculpt his name?" He asked Sky. Once he hands the rock over, Thundercracker wastes no time and takes out a small sharp tool to write his designation. 

Thundercracker had written his name in ancient Cybertronian, a language that was only really used before the war and even before the golden age... Always a sucker for silly traditions. 

When he was done, both he and Skywarp carefully inserted the rock right above where Starscream's head would be. 

Both took a few steps back once they had finished. 

Usually after someone dies, they honor them by stating their accomplishments or telling stories about them, but no one uttered a word. 

He knew it wasn't because they had nothing to say; it was because of the Autobots present. 

The Autobots have no right to stick their noses in their business! He saw as a few of the seekers sent glares to the Autobots present to silently tell them to go frag off, but because they either have bolts for brains or they simply have no manners, they remained in their places. 

An awkward silence settled for what felt like an eternity. 

The prime was the first to speak up: "We are aware that now is a very bad time to ask this." That earned him a few hisses—including one from him—and a glare from almost every seeker, which got him to shut his mouth and take a step back. 

His second in command, Prowl, decided to take his place. "Do you plan on returning to the Decepticons?" He questioned. One of the seekers—he thinks is named Fire Round—replies, "As your prime said, not a good time." 

Primus do they not know how to read the room??? 

However, after a few kilks, the seeker's annoyance was replaced with something else—fear? Realization? Possibly dread. 

Dirge—one of the Coneheads—mutters, "I'm not quite sure I want to go back..." This gains the attention of those present, which causes him to shrink in on himself ever so slightly, but with a gentle nudge from one of his trine mates, he continues, "Soundwave once stated that if anything were to happen to the command trine, the Coneheads would be in charge, and with how Thundercracker defected and Starscream no longer being here, we'd most likely be appointed as the command trine..." 

He took a deep breath before he continued, "You guys saw how Megatron treated Starscream. I'm not sure I want that for me, for any of us." Dirge looks around to see what the others thought. 

Some nodded and others looked apprehensive, but they all knew he was right. Megatron has gone insane; he's been going crazy for some time. Beating your second in command every other day has become normal; recently it has become common for it to be for no real reason at all. They are not freedom fighters anymore, not after the death of their planet. They no longer fight for peace; they fight for food. 

And after they disobeyed his command? Either starved, banned from getting any medical treatment from the medics, or both! Especially with how they are interacting with 2—or 3 if you count Skywarp—deserters, as well as the Autobot high command. 

They had very limited options right now; Starscream can only hope they make a good choice, even if he doesn't know what counts as a good choice anymore. 

"...You can come with us."