Chapter Text
"Skywarp told me to talk to you."
Nova Storm's wings twitched as she turned toward Starscream. She blinked slowly at him.
"Oh," she said. "About what?"
Starscream glanced between the rabble in the main room and the hallway. "Can we go somewhere more private?"
"Of course."
Nova Storm followed as Starscream hobbled into the hallway, leaning against the wall once he reached it. At this time of day, their quarters would be empty, so to their quarters they went. He sat on the berth. Nova Storm sat beside him.
How was he supposed to begin? He barely understood what Skywarp wanted him to talk about. Maybe…
"When my initial leadership of the Decepticons ended," Starscream said. "A… 'different type of health' was mentioned. What does that mean?"
"Your processor—" Nova Storm said.
Starscream laughed bitterly. That was already shot, and had been since he onlined.
"I'm serious," Nova Storm said. "The way we think, feel, process the world—it can be maintained, just like a frame."
Could it really?
"I don't see how that could work," Starscream said.
Processors were processors. They were part of the body. Why would their maintenance be separate?
"It's an idea I learned from human literature," Nova Storm said. "After I lost my wingmates…"
The Rainmakers. Starscream remembered them. To him, they were merely soldiers, but to Nova Storm, they were everything. Seekers were kept in groups of three from creation. Starscream's group had been an exception, owed to Thundercracker's status as a warframe. Ion Storm and Acid Storm were lost in one of the earlier battles on Earth, before Starscream had grown displeased enough with Megatron's foolishness to call retreats himself.
Nova Storm continued.
"I couldn't recharge, I didn't want to refuel… it was difficult to keep trying. It still is, sometimes. But I wanted to keep going, so I looked for anything I could. The humans studied their own processors and I wondered if any of that could apply to us, so I tried it."
As much as Starscream loathed to admit it, humans were clever at times.
"I assume it worked," Starscream said.
"It did."
"So," Starscream said, gesturing dramatically. "What is your human-inspired advice, then?"
"That depends on the issue," Nova Storm said.
Did Starscream even know?
Megatron and the Autobots were going to find them and ruin everything. That was a realistic and reasonable fear. They would run out of energeon—an inevitability. Those were all issues rooted in the physical.
"If I knew, would I be here?" Starscream said.
"Then let's find out what it is."
Starscream rolled his optics. "How are we going to do that?"
After a long line of questions, they still hadn't reached a conclusion. Starscream tapped a pede, irritation growing within him. What was the point of this?
"Are you sure—"
"I'm sure," Starscream hissed. "This is a waste of time."
All of his problems—Megatron, the Autobots, their lack of fuel—were real! They weren't only in his processor, so why would tackling them like that help? It would be putting a patch on a dying mech. There was no pretending everything was alright.
Before Nova Storm could protest, Starscream staggered across the room. He checked his fuel levels, no longer trusting that his systems would alert him properly, and headed for the main room when they came back low. Only a few mecha watched as he fetched his energeon. He headed for the corner of the room.
His unreliable pedes slipped out from under him partway through. He clutched his cube as he fell, his descent stopped by large hands. After a moment, he pushed himself away from the other mech.
"Thank you, Dirge," he said.
"You are welcome," Dirge said.
Starscream walked past Dirge and settled in the corner of the room. Moments later, Dirge settled beside him. Fighting a sigh, Starscream sipped his cube. Just because he was weak right now, everyone wanted to crowd him.
"The Quintessons are in my processor."
Starscream nearly dropped his energeon.
"They are long dead," Dirge said. "But they linger."
"What?" Starscream said.
"War doesn't end. It just changes locations."
How was he supposed to respond to that…?
"I guess it doesn't," Starscream said.
It was true. Despite claims of peace, this war was far from over.
"The war stopped being on Earth," Dirge said. "It's in our processors now."
Again with the processor talk.
"Megatron and the Autobots are alive, unlike your Quintessons," Starscream hissed.
"Yes, but neither are here."
It didn't matter if Megatron was here, it mattered that he was alive at all!
"He won't stop tormenting me until he's dead," Starscream said.
"The Quintessons are dead," Dirge said slowly. "And they torment me."
Would Megatron remain within him, even after death? Starscream's plating itched. He couldn't let that happen.
"Ask any warframe, they'll say the same." Dirge stirred beside him as he spoke. "Some lose the battle, but it cannot be won."
Starscream flexed his fingers. Would he be fighting Megatron and the Autobots forever?
Dirge's optics met his. "Our enemies may be different, but you fight your own war. You are a strong commander. I do not want you to lose."
"I—" The words struggled to leave Starscream's vocalizer. "I won't. I don't want to, e—either."
Dirge laid a gentle hand on Starscream's shoulder. His gaze drifted toward the rest of the room. Starscream followed.
Mecha milled about, some clustered together while conversing. A small group was gathered at the towerfall table—the game was an irksome constant.
"All of us hold faith in you," Dirge said. "Enough to risk our lives and freedom. We want you here."
Starscream didn't know how to respond to that. Truthfully, he didn't know why Dirge was telling him this. He flexed his fingers, the bending of his joints distracting him from the confusion.
"You didn't used to," he muttered.
"Circumstances changed," Dirge said. "As have you."
Had he really changed, or had they not bothered to look any further? It didn't matter. The outcome was the same.
"But that is a different path to travel," Dirge said. "We support you, and we await your recovery."
'That sounds like a threat.'
'Maybe it is, if that's what it takes to get the idea that I care about you into your processor.'
Starscream hummed.
A brick fell on Frenzy's head as the tower at the side of the room fell. Rumble pointed and laughed, prompting Frenzy to leap at him. The two wrestled as the rest of the players watched with amused grins.
Why had he always jumped to malice, even when it came from those closest to him? Why did he associate affection with fear? Why were love and kindness a threat to him?
'I want to make sure my Air Commander doesn't offline.'
Megatron was in his processor—had been for too long. It was time to be rid of him.
Starscream smiled, pushing against the wall as he rose.
"Thank you, Dirge."
☆☆☆
Starscream woke lazily from recharge to a gentle jostle, Ulchtar curled around his arms. The others had already vacated the loose nest they had created (eight mecha couldn't fit on a berth, especially not when one was Jetfire), but Starscream had no obligations except to heal, so he allowed himself to rest. As he was jostled again, he clutched Ulchtar tighter.
"Starscream."
Jetfire's quiet voice.
Starscream rolled over.
"Starscream," Jetfire repeated. "I've got something to show you."
Starscream deposited Ulchtar in the nest and pushed himself up. Though his strength was beginning to return, his arms still shook. The tremors would take some time to go away; Neurocircuits were slow to repair.
These slow-to-repair circuits were the reason Starscream hobbled down the hall as Jetfire led him. As one of his pedes slipped, he let out an irritated hiss, catching himself on the wall. The return of his strength didn't improve his balance or control—it just meant he was faster at falling.
Jetfire offered him a hand. Starscream took it, cursing his frame. A few more moments of walking, then Jetfire stopped at the entrance to a storage room. They entered, and at first, Starscream didn't notice anything.
Jetfire wheeled something to the center of the room. Recognition sent a zing of wariness through Starscream's spark.
"A walker," Starscream said quietly.
"A rollator!" Jetfire corrected, swiveling it on its wheels. "You didn't like the ones in the medbay, so I made it just for you!"
Dread washed over Starscream, making his plating itch. He fought not to twitch his wings, knowing Jetfire would pick up on it. It was a beautiful gift—an amazingly thoughtful gift—and Jetfire had made it—but Starscream couldn't…
A mech that couldn't fight was as good as dead. In many cases, they were dead, whether through loss in battle or a medic's mercy. Displays of weakness were a beacon to the enemy.
Starscream could cling onto another mech or lean against the wall. It drew no attention to him. If he used the rollator, it would make noise. The sliding of the wheels would be noticed. Though one could tell he struggled with walking if they watched, the rollator would be a neon sign.
Every mech would know. If the Autobots, or Primus forbid, Megatron—
"What do you think?"
He had to respond.
"I—" Starscream stammered. "Thank you, Jetfire. I appreciate it."
"Great! Let me show you how to use it!" Jetfire said, wings fluttering.
Starscream listened numbly as Jetfire gave him every detail with an enthusiasm unparalleled. When Jetfire urged him to take a step forward, he obeyed. The rollator supported him perfectly, only driving the dread in further.
"Starscream?"
What was he thinking? There were no enemies here. He repeated that to himself. No enemies here. Jetfire just wanted to help—and he was.
Starscream let go of the rollator and flexed his fingers. "I—"
Jetfire stepped closer.
"Th-thank you," Starscream said. "I really do mean it."
"I'm just trying to help," Jetfire said quietly.
"I know."
☆☆☆
As he walked down the halls, holding the handles of the rollator, Skywarp glanced at him. Immediately, she appeared beside him, a large grin on her face.
"Looks like it's working well," she said.
Had she helped Jetfire build it?
"It is," Starscream said.
As fearful as he was about what the rollator would represent to his enemies, it gave him one great advantage: mobility. He no longer had to rely on walls or other mecha to traverse the base.
"He worked really hard on it," Skywarp said. "Kept talking with Hook on how to build it and begged me for supplies, because we didn't have the alloy he needed."
Starscream hummed. That sounded exactly like Jetfire.
"Don't take this as an endorsement of what you did, but…" Skywarp sighed. "You split a good spark."
Too good of a spark. Starscream couldn't believe how kind the newspark was. That kindness, that politeness—it had to be the remains of Skyfire. Even if Jetfire's spark had rewritten his processor, there was no way it could have come from Starscream.
Starscream was violent. He was ill-tempered. He was a liar, a traitor, and—
No. He wouldn't go down that path.
"A spark from a splitspark," Starscream said, attempting to distract himself.
"I don't even want to know how you managed that," Skywarp said, shaking her head. "Wasn't it considered impossible?"
The conversation paused as Starscream reached the fuel dispenser. He grabbed his serving, and Skywarp grabbed hers. A small seat at the center of the rollator—a very smart choice on Jetfire's part—allowed Starscream to carry his cube without having to sacrifice his grip on the rollator. Skywarp placed hers next to his on the seat and he rolled his optics. She stuck her tongue out at him.
"I've always managed the impossible," Starscream said, fanning his wings out and pushing his chest forward in a show of mock haughtiness. "But, truly… I have no idea. I just tried it the way Shockwave described it to me and it worked."
It shouldn't have. The process killed the drones it was tried on. Again, Starscream had to wonder: what was it about him?
Perhaps he was so determined not to die that his spark refused to go out.
They reached the corner of the room. Starscream took the cubes from the seat, offering Skywarp hers as he sat. She took it and leaned against the wall.
Even if Starscream couldn't die—which wasn't proven—he could suffer. Those around him did not share his abilities, whatever they were. If the Autobots found them…
"Fight me," Starscream said.
Skywarp nearly dropped her cube. "What?"
"I need to learn how to fight again," Starscream said. "If I'm going to be like this. So, fight me."
"Are you sure—"
"Fight. Me," Starscream hissed.
He would be no use on the battlefield if he couldn't work around his… limitations. If the Autobots found him, he would be a liability. That was unacceptable.
(That he had accepted his condition's permanence did not cross his mind.)
Skywarp flinched. "Okay, okay! After we finish our fuel."
Good.
☆☆☆
The rollator sat beneath a tree, neatly folded. Skywarp's optics flicked between it and Starscream, her wings twitching. Stance wide to compensate for his altered coordination, Starscream glared as he waited for her to speak.
"Um," she said. "Are you sure you don't want the rollator?"
"When am I going to be able to use my rollator during a fight?" Starscream said.
He wouldn't use it as a weapon unless absolutely necessary—it was too valuable to risk damaging. Besides, if he was taken prisoner, would they even bother to take it? He would need to find a way to fight without it even if he did train with it.
"Okay…" Skywarp sighed. "Just, uh… come at me, I guess?"
Starscream launched himself at her, aiming a blow toward her face. She caught his fist, and as he stumbled, she held him up by it.
"Stop helping," he muttered, yanking himself out of her grip and stumbling backwards. He swept a leg underneath her, sending her to the floor—along with himself.
That move would've worked just fine before...
"Sorry!" Skywarp yelped.
"Don't apologize!" Starscream yelled, throwing himself upward.
He needed this. The fall only proved it. When Skywarp rose, Starscream leaped at her again. She countered his blows with ease, aided by the unsteadiness of his pedes. After a brief struggle, she flung him backwards into a tree. Starscream activated his thrusters, determined not to crash.
He flew back toward Skywarp, this time finally managing to hit her. The battle took a turn in his favor, and as it continued, Starscream's spark sung. Eventually, he backed Skywarp into a tree, the other mech letting out a surprised chirp as her wings hit it.
Starscream let her go, a grin spreading across his face. She stared at him with wide optics.
"You never touched the ground," she said, a laugh escaping her vocalizer. "That's—wow!"
Starscream cut power to his thrusters, which he hadn't realized were still on. He kept losing his balance because his pedes couldn't make proper contact with the ground. If he stayed in the air, that nullified the issue completely!
He wiggled his wings. He could still fight—as if that had ever been in doubt! Despite everything, he could still defend himself.
"Let's head back," Starscream said. "We've done enough today."
☆☆☆
They continued to practice, with Starscream growing more used to fighting entirely off the ground each time. It was an easy adjustment to make, since he was already a skilled flier in his alt mode. Though, there was one mech who wasn't…
"Come on," Starscream said. "It's simple. You just leap and turn on your thrusters."
"But what if I fall?" Jetfire whispered.
"You won't."
"It'll hurt," Jetfire said, staring down the at edge of the cliff.
Starscream gently pulled his head away from the cliff. "You're not going to fall. Your flight protocols will engage before you hit the ground. It's a failsafe for situations like this."
"But what if—"
Starscream sighed and stepped backward off the cliff. As Jetfire let out a shocked yell, Starscream engaged his thrusters. He flew back over the cliff, glaring at Jetfire as he hovered in front of the edge.
When he'd onlined, he and all the other Seekers of his batch were lined up and forced off the tallest tower in the city, built specifically for this purpose. Any mech whose flight protocols failed to engage quickly enough was offlined, and there was no way to refuse the trial. Starscream hadn't known enough about the world or his own mortality to be terrified.
For a moment, Starscream considered doing the same to Jetfire. Really, this had been his fault in the first place—Jetfire had gone too long before taking his first flight, which allowed fear to set in. Jetfire stared up at him, optics wide and wings held low, and Starscream knew the same approach wouldn't work for him.
Starscream landed.
"Here," he said, transforming into his alt mode.
Jetfire crouched to look at him. "You're so tiny."
Starscream refrained from telling him to shut up, knowing the newspark was unaware he'd been hearing that his entire life.
"Yes, yes," Starscream muttered. "I'm a small model. That's not important."
Starscream had no landing gears, since he was built to land in robot mode. Any flightframe that wasn't constructed for far travel was intended to land in robot form. Starscream's model was meant to change between the two forms rapidly, flying from structure to structure like cybird.
This lack of landing gears did not stop him from taking off in his alt mode, which he did with ease, blasting himself off the cliff. He transformed back into robot mode in midair and turned back toward Jetfire.
"Would that be less intimidating?" Starscream asked.
Jetfire's wings lifted slightly. "I… I think so."
"Great!" Starscream said, clapping his hands. "Let's try it, then. Transform into your alt mode."
Jetfire transformed. His alt mode, built to mimic Quintesson war shuttles, was much larger. Although Quintessons were a small species—even smaller than humans—a war shuttle had to fit many of them. Most shuttleframes were repurposed as cargo carriers due to their large interiors.
Unlike Starscream, he had landing gears—both because he was modeled off of a non-transforming plane and because he had the capacity to travel long distances in his alt mode.
"Good," Starscream said. "Turn on your thrusters and try rolling forward. You'll need to build up a lot of speed to take off this way."
Jetfire obeyed, pushing power to his thrusters. As they could propel him off the planet and through the atmosphere, he had a lot more power than Starscream, and was quickly at the edge of the cliff. Starscream made up for his lack of power through maneuverability and flexibility, but that didn't matter much when he was trying to ensure that a shuttle twice his size stayed in the air.
"You'll need to angle yourself upward!" Starscream called out, changing into his alt mode.
Jetfire angled himself upward just in time to leave the cliff, ascending to the sky. It wasn't the most traditional takeoff, and was likely more difficult than a midair change would've been, but it had gotten the newspark in the air. Starscream settled beside him as they flew.
[What do you think?] Starscream sent.
They flew over a lake, the waves reflecting specks of sun. Jetfire shifted slightly.
[It's amazing. Really, really amazing,] Jetfire replied.
[You haven't seen amazing yet.]
Starscream flew ahead, building up enough speed to do a loop. As he came out of it, he spun. There was nothing like flying. No one to disturb him, no unreliable pedes forcing him to the ground—it was just him and the sky. When was the last time he had flown just for the sake of it?
Starscream's next trick fizzled out at the thought. It was before the war. Since then, every flight was for a reason. There were no pleasure flights when your enemies could blast you out of the sky at any moment.
[That's so cool!]
Jetfire's message drew Starscream from his reverie.
[Could I do something like that…?]
Amusement warmed Starscream's spark.
[With practice,] he sent.
Jetfire was much larger than him, so complex movements would be more difficult. Still, he could learn at least some sort of trick. As Jetfire grew closer, Starscream realized his pace had slowed. Jetfire continued to pick up speed, and Starscream allowed himself to drift behind.
Jetfire tilted from side to side, testing his limits. It wouldn't be long before his flight sensors were fully calibrated. Basic maneuvers would be instinct at that point. But for now, the newspark had to learn consciously.
[This is amazing!] Jetfire sent.
A humming whoosh drew Starscream's attention. He nearly stalled to a stop as he spotted a human plane in the distance. They weren't supposed to be this close. Had they changed their route?
[You can fly straight,] Starscream sent. [But can you turn?]
Starscream swerved in the opposite direction of the plane, splitting the focus of his sensors between Jetfire and the plane. Now playing catch-up, Jetfire turned behind him, starting off too sharp and then overcompensating by going too wide.
They should go back immediately, but…
Jetfire tilted again, a little further than last time. First flights were important. He needed those sensors calibrated. If Starscream were honest with himself, he enjoyed seeing the newspark fly. Every little tilt, every exclamation of awe—it was a reminder of what he fought for.
Jetfire, though new to the world, was a warframe. On Cybertron, Warframes hadn't been allowed to obtain medical licenses. Clinics outright refused to hire warframes, and most educational institutions were picky about what fields warframe applicants could choose to pursue.
Drones hadn't been allowed education at all.
But here, far from Cybertron and with the war on its final pede, there were no such laws. In the most twisted way possible, the Decepticons had won. There was still a point to it all, even with a victory so bitter.
Once Jetfire began swerving and tipping, Starscream knew his flight sensors were properly calibrated. It was just in time—they would need to head back soon or they would be missed. Skywarp had threatened to search the globe if they didn't come back before sunset.
[Let's land,] Starscream sent when they reached a particularly empty area. [You can land in your alt mode if you want. Just make sure you have enough room to slow down.]
Starscream descended from the sky, changing into his robot mode just before he hit the ground. He stumbled, but managed not to fall. It was a far cry from his graceful landings in the past, but his standards had changed. Landing without tripping over his own pedes was enough.
Jetfire rolled to a stop, then transformed. A wide grin was on his face. His wings practically vibrated with excitement.
"That was awesome!" Jetfire said. "I can't believe we can do that! Just take off into the sky and soar!"
Starscream chuckled. He settled on the ground, motioning for Jetfire to join him. The newspark, still buzzing with excitement, sat beside him. As Jetfire continued to rant, Starscream closed his optics.
A small wind blew, rustling foliage and whistling beneath his plating. His wings ached, not having seen use since he created Jetfire. He checked his fuel levels—low, but not that low—and fought against the tiredness that settled throughout his frame.
He had gone much longer without refueling. He had nearly crossed the entire planet, despite not being built for it. What was different now?
Starscream's claws scraped against his leg, deeply enough to feel but not enough to cause damage, as the answer came to him. The pain, the tiredness—it had never been different. He just hadn't been able to rest.
Starscream froze as his audials picked up a sound. Pedesteps, or something like them. Nothing should have been here—nothing was here. Starscream opened his optics.
Red stared back at him, framed by gray.
Starscream pushed himself to his pedes. As Jetfire did the same, Starscream stuck his wing out, blocking the newspark.
"Stay behind me," Starscream said. "If he attacks, fly away."
Megatron grew closer. Starscream's spark hummed in his chest. Behind him, Jetfire's joints creaked as he fiddled anxiously with his hands.
"Starscream," Megatron said.
"Why are you here?" Starscream hissed.
"We received reports of Decepticons in the sky," Megatron said. "I took it upon myself to investigate."
Megatron stared past Starscream. "Who is this?"
"No one you should be concerned about," Starscream said, sidestepping to block Jetfire from Megatron's view.
His pede slipped slightly, and he stumbled. Jetfire's hand brushed against his back, offering to steady him, but Starscream shrugged it off.
Megatron's optics narrowed. "You seem different."
"So what?" Starscream said.
Megatron stepped closer, optics burning. "What happened to you?"
"Nothing happened," Starscream said. He couldn't step backward—he would just run into Jetfire.
"Am I to believe that you're stumbling around like an invalid just because you like it?"
"I'm not an invalid!" Starscream spat. "Why can't you just mind your own business?"
Megatron took another step closer. Starscream allowed himself to move backward, Jetfire's hands against his back. It took everything in him to keep his plating from rattling.
"I'm concerned for you," Megatron said. "You've always been fragile—"
"Fragile!" Starscream howled. "Fragile? Was I fragile when you gripped my neck and threw me into tables? Was I fragile when you assigned me mission after mission despite my protests? Was I fragile when you tested your weapons on me?"
Megatron reached out. Starscream grabbed his arm, sinking his claws into the plating. The brute didn't move.
"You don't care," Starscream hissed. "And you never have. Stop it with this act and just hurt me already."
"No."
Megatron's arm slipped from Starscream's grasp as his spark pounded. What was this? What did Megatron want?
"What?" Starscream said. "Am I not good enough for you anymore? Did you get tired of taming your pet turbofox?"
The game was simple. Megatron did something stupid, and Starscream pushed back. The brute put him in his place, and Starscream was forever the rabid turbofox, forever the lying traitor.
Megatron stared.
Where was the scolding? The crushing grip?
"Are you just going to stand there?" Starscream said quietly.
Why wasn't Starscream getting what he deserved?
Megatron kept staring, a frown on his face. Not a scowl, not a grimace—a frown.
"You can't do this!" Starscream screeched. "Not after everything! You stand beside Prime and everyone loves you, forgives you—despite it all! While I rotted in a cell and starved alone, they loved you! While you left dents in my plating and stained your hands with my energeon, they accepted you! My nightmare, free to run while I suffered!"
Silence swallowed the field.
"Are you done?" Megatron said.
Starscream glared at him, fans clicking on as his spark burned. "Why are you doing this?"
"I've grown tired of this cycle," Megatron said. "I miss my fallen star."
"Your fallen star is dead!" Starscream hissed. "You killed him."
"He's right here. I just want him to talk to me."
When was it ever just a conversation? Even when there was no violence, there were always rules. It was a power play, even when it appeared not to be.
"You're mistaken," Starscream said. "Go back to Prime and your cronies."
"I'm not leaving," Megatron said.
The burning spread through Starscream's lines. If that fragger wouldn't leave, he'd make him!
Starscream swung at Megatron. The brute dodged the blow with ease, and grabbed his arm when he attempted another. His grip tightened, plating creaking beneath it.
Sick, twisted relief flooded Starscream, warring with the panic within him. This was it. He would attack, and it would be over. After this, Megatron would be gone.
The panic won for a moment.
"Let me go!" Starscream hissed, stumbling as he attempted to pull away.
Megatron pulled Starscream closer and crushed him against his chest. Starscream's spark pulsed, the sensation beating through his entire body. He scratched at the brute's plating, but it was futile.
"Let me go!" Starscream said weakly. "Let me go…"
His struggles slowed as Megatron squeezed tighter.
"I… I don't—don't understand," Starscream said.
Megatron shoved his face beside Starscream's audial.
"Violence was all I'd ever known," Megatron said. "I was constructed for war, forced to work in the mines when it ended. But you're different. You're soft. I should've known not to use violence with you."
A laugh escaped Starscream's vocalizer before he could stop it. He was untethered from his frame, sensations just out of reach.
"Is that supposed to be an apology?" Starscream said.
"You're impossible to please," Megatron said.
"I could say the same about you."
Megatron's grip loosened, helm shifting. Was there something ahead of him?
"Then we're at an impasse." Megatron released Starscream with a shove. Starscream stumbled backward into Jetfire's waiting hands.
"Go," Megatron growled.
The world twisted around him, and Starscream was suddenly back at the base. The main room was still. There was nothing but the pounding of Starscream's spark.
A hand landed on his shoulder and he fought the urge to shrug it off, turning toward the source. Skywarp stared at him, brow furrowed with concern.
"Are you alright?" She asked quietly.
Starscream's vocalizer refused to activate. He shook his head. He would be. As he attempted to activate his vocalizer again, a flash of color caught his optics.
"B—Bumblebee…?" The name, stuttering and laced with static, escaped without warning.
"Yeah," Skywarp said. "He's here. Said he had to tell us something important. Blitzwing found him."
Starscream fought back a whine. He had to talk to him right now? He took a step forward, nearly falling. Jetfire's arms steadied him. Beside him, Skywarp disappeared with a whoosh of air before reappearing near Bumblebee. She stood side by side with Soundwave and Ravage, who were already speaking with him.
Soundwave turned to her. After she warped again, Soundwave turned toward Starscream, leaving Bumblebee with Ravage.
"Starscream, Jetfire—returned from flight," Soundwave said. "Encountered Megatron."
"That's his name?" Jetfire said quietly.
"Affirmative," Soundwave said. "Query: Starscream—alright?"
"N—not injured," Starscream squeaked.
"Not injured," Soundwave repeated. "Clarification: Starscream—desires rest?"
"I—I have to—"
Soundwave gently placed a hand on Starscream's shoulder.
"Starscream—may rest," Soundwave said. "Bumblebee—will wait."
When Skywarp reappeared, Starscream allowed her to warp him to their quarters. After settling into the nest with Jetfire and Skywarp, he was quickly joined by Nova Storm, Soundwave, and the cassettes. With the lights off and the entrance shuttered, the room was peaceful.
The Autobots may have found him—Megatron may have found him—but that could wait as long as he was tucked between his allies.