Chapter Text
Knowing that the Ark was dead made everything about it emptier and duller. Nova Storm stayed behind with the rest of the Decepticons, prepared to keep them in line while the rest of command was away. In her place was Blitzwing, with Icebeam currently at the helm. Starscream squeezed the handles of his rollator as they entered the meeting room.
Optimus greeted them cordially from his seat as Megatron stared.
"Can we get this over with?" Starscream said.
Megatron glared at him. "Yes. Let us."
"We were short on volunteers, as I'm certain you can tell," Starscream said, leaning a cheek on his hand. His wings itched, and he fought not to twitch them in front of the brute. "Not many forged mecha in the Decepticons. But Blitzwing has generously volunteered."
Megatron's mouth twitched. Optimus spoke before he could.
"We encountered similar issues," Optimus said. "Ratchet has volunteered his spark. Knock Out came forward soon after."
Both mecha were medics. Were the Autobots truly comfortable taking that risk, however small?
"Satisfactory," Soundwave said.
If they were so intent on gambling their access to medical care, why not let them? Still, Starscream's spark churned at the idea. What was making him so uneasy? He tapped his fingers on the table—quietly, so the brute wouldn't stare.
Ah, well. Maybe it would pass.
☆☆☆
It did not pass. As they stood (well, sat, in Starscream's case) in front of the Ark's empty spark chamber, Starscream tapped a pede. It thunked quietly against the floor, joining the humming of his spark. He sank his claws into one of his arm guards, attempting to dissipate some of the energy, but it refused to abate.
Starscream silenced a hiss before it could escape his vocalizer. Why was he feeling this way? He wasn't even the one risking their spark!
Pedesteps echoed down the hall. Two familiar mecha entered the room. Starscream stared up at Knock Out. The mech stared back, optics widening for a moment before a more neutral expression settled on his face.
"Oh," he said. "Starscream. I should've expected to see you."
"Knock Out," Starscream said quietly.
He craved something. He didn't know what it was. But staring at one of the few allies he had during his time among the Autobots that hadn't come with him broke something. His spark chamber was hollow.
Starscream flexed his fingers.
"I hope you've been in good health," Knock Out said. He hesitated, mouth hanging open for a moment as if he wanted to speak more.
Starscream stared down at his claws. In. Out.
"As much as I can be," Starscream said.
[I told Skywarp,] he sent through a private channel.
"That's good," Knock Out said with a smile. "I'm glad to hear it."
The conversation died a quiet death. With that, the perverse ceremony of lifegiving began. The Emberstone—completely dwarfed by the Ark's spark chamber—was placed on a podium. The three volunteers stepped forward, baring their sparks.
[Why did you come forward?] Starscream sent.
He didn't expect a response. He got three.
[I used to build drone frames,] Knock Out sent. [Before I became a cosmetic surgeon. I want to see the other end of it.]
Ratchet glanced Starscream's way as his response came in. [I put factory errors to rest before I got my license for general practice. It's only fitting.]
[We want to matter,] Blitzwing replied.
[This is going to hurt,] Starscream warned them. [Are you ready?]
All three: ready.
The room exploded with light. Starscream closed his optics as a powerful wave coursed through the room, knocking over the mecha beside him. Just as the light reached its greatest intensity, everything went dark.
☆☆☆
Shapes. Muffled noise. Starscream willed his optics to focus. A brief moment of clarity brought vague outlines of frames and a bright, pulsing ball. Starscream pushed himself upward, hissing as his wings caught on something behind him.
Argh. Right. The rollator.
Starscream detached himself from the rollator and sent the command to his optics again. This time, they decided to function properly. Aside from the roaring hum of a fresh titan spark, the room was silent.
[Is everyone alright?] Starscream sent.
Not a single response. Was he truly the first one awake? Slag.
He searched for nearby signals. The Ark—or whatever the new mech would want to be called—would have one soon. There!
[Have you received this message?] Starscream sent to the brand new channel.
[I have. Who are you?]
Knock Out's fingers twitched. At least someone was regaining consciousness.
[I'm Starscream,] he sent. [You're a Cybertronian titan shuttle. We need you to fly us to Cybertron, where you're ready.]
[Fly…?]
Starscream sighed. [You'll understand soon.]
☆☆☆
The Ark kept its name, despite Starscream's hapless efforts to the contrary. The big, bumbling Prime just had to immediately greet it with its previous life's name! But whatever. Reusing the name was its choice.
With the Ark alive, repairs went quickly. The humans provided them with permission to mine as much energeon as they could possibly find—still with the condition that they used it to leave the planet. With the last of the mines picked dry, it was time for takeoff.
Well, almost. Prime was speaking with those wretched creatures, as if they deserved a goodbye for sending them all to their deaths. If Starscream had to choose between the safety of the Cybertronian species or the safety of the humans, the answer was obvious.
But weren't they making the same choice? Could he fault them for that?
A golden blur streaked through the hall, barking and howling all the way, and flew into the room. The clunk of a heavyset frame followed it, and Jetfire entered the room, fans barely audible, but audible nonetheless. He held the end of an empty lead as he stared down at the dog.
"Buster!" He shouted. "Come back!"
Buster ran in circles around him. Starscream snickered.
"Back to your old ways, are you?" Starscream said.
Buster paused in his circling, ears angled toward Starscream. Then, he ran at him, leaping onto his lap. Starscream held a hand under the dog as he pulled himself up, not wanting the small creature to fall. But Buster crawled into his lap unassisted, staring up at him with his tongue hanging out.
"What a mischievous creature you are," Starscream muttered, petting Buster with a single finger. "Nothing like the mech that adopted you…"
The words left a sour taste in his mouth. So many of his comrades' frames were left on this planet—Thundercracker's included. There would be no retrieving them. Such a weight would make it impossible to leave the atmosphere. With so many mecha on a single ship, they were already troublingly heavy. But what other option did they have?
Buster yelped in betrayal as a lead was slipped around his neck, pulling Starscream from his thoughts.
"Gotcha!" Jetfire said.
Buster looked up at him, whining dramatically. Jetfire ignored the dog's pleas, likely used to it.
"Thanks for the assist," Jetfire said. "He slipped off his lead and just went running."
Starscream smiled. "He's known to do that. I'm surprised it took this long to happen."
Jetfire wrung his hands. "Right…"
Starscream may not have been able to read EM fields, but he had working optics. From the low set of Jetfire's wings and the hand-wringing, the newspark was nervous. Starscream leaned forward, shifting his weight as the rollator moved beneath him. Buster woofed quietly in alarm, but quickly settled down.
"What is it?" Starscream asked.
Jetfire's wings moved upward, trembling with tension. "What's what?"
"You're nervous," Starscream said. "I can see it. What's going on?"
Jetfire wrung his hands harder, joints creaking. His wings fell.
"It's just, um…" He looked away. "There are so many mecha here. I don't know them, and we're all leaving, and…"
Jetfire's gaze fell to the floor.
"Yes?" Starscream said.
"What if we don't get along?" Jetfire asked, meeting Starscream's optics. "What if… what if they're like Megatron? He hurt you, and he was following us, and now he's here and—I'm scared."
Starscream's spark hummed painfully, claws itching to dig into his guards. His fingers twitched as he pondered what to do. Jetfire liked hugs, didn't he?
Starscream shooed Buster off his lap and stood. Then, he wrapped his arms around Jetfire. The newspark hugged back, squeezing him tightly—but gently, always gently. How had he been blessed with a spark so kind?
"That's what allies are for," Starscream said. "They keep the Megatrons of the universe away."
Jetfire shoved his face into Starscream's shoulder. "But what if I'm alone? What if you're alone?"
Starscream pulled away from the hug. He locked optics with Jetfire.
"I lived alone on Earth for a while," Starscream said. "The humans, the Autobots, the Decepticons, Megatron—they were all hunting me. I had to drink human fuel when I ran out of energeon. But I survived. I'm a difficult mech to take down."
"You really did that?" Jetfire said quietly.
"Mhm," Starscream said. "Took Megatron's optic out once. He didn't like that."
Jetfire didn't need to know that he was shot by Megatron's fusion cannon shortly after. Starscream suppressed a shudder at the memory, nociceptors threatening to relive it and sending a tingle through his plating.
"You're right," Jetfire said quietly. "You are tough."
Starscream nodded, squeezing Jetfire's arms. "Yes. So don't worry about me."
Jetfire stared, optics wide. Buster barked and leaped. Jetfire sprinted after him as he ran across the room, shouting to the dog not to slip out of the lead again. Starscream chuckled as they sprinted back into the hall.
The room fell quiet, save for the buzz of machinery. Starscream sat back on the rollator, tapping a pede. It would be full of mecha later, but that didn't stop the emptiness from seizing his spark. They would take off soon.
He buried his face in his hands.
They were all going to die. It wasn't a matter of if, it was a matter of when. How long would their reserves last? Would they even reach Cybertron?
Starscream picked at his arm guards.
[Skywarp?]
She was at his side immediately.
☆☆☆
A vast route stretched before them, nowhere near complete. But the Ark had left the atmosphere. They were on their way.
Energeon was conservatively rationed. Every mech was to receive the absolute minimum they could comfortably subsist on. Skywarp was, to Starscream's relief, allotted extra fuel on account of her warp drive. The large cube in Starscream's grasp was currently a mystery, though he had guesses.
He took a seat at the edge of the room, not quite feeling social but not wanting to be alone in Decepticon command's quarters. Mecha chattered, filling his audials with noise, so he turned the sensitivity down. It did little to aid the overwhelm, but at least it was something.
Starscream rolled his optics as he looked down at the cube again. He really didn't need this much fuel, despite whatever Skywarp claimed about his consumption. He did fine on much less. She was responsible for this, no doubt. He'd need to clear that up before too much fuel was wasted. But for now…
He took a sip. Still the same pre-filtered slag. Maybe Knock Out could finally try adding some flavor to it? Or would that also be a waste of resources?
The unmistakable creak of armor beside Starscream made him go still, clenching his cube. He turned toward the source of the noise. Pale blue optics stared back at him, framed by two large audial fins.
"Optimus," Starscream said. "Don't do that."
Optimus backed away. "My apologies. I didn't mean to cause discomfort."
The mech talked like a warframe or a forged mech, despite being created as a drone. It was undeniably a product of the matrix in his chest. Starscream had doubts that the artifact was from Primus itself, but its power was undeniable.
"Get on with whatever inane thing you want to bother me with," Starscream said.
Optimus sighed, optics falling to the other side of the room. His plating tensed slightly—not enough to indicate true distress, but enough to notice. What could possibly make the Prime nervous?
"You made that mech," Optimus said. "How did you do it?"
Seriously? Starscream glared at him. Optimus looked away again.
"Why do you want to know?" Starscream growled.
Optimus fidgeted, finials flicking. "If you were able to make that mech yourself, then…"
He rested a hand on his windshield.
"Then what?" Starscream asked.
Optimus's hand tensed, leaving streaks on his windshield. "I've… always wondered about the process of creation, but it was out of reach. But if you could, then maybe I could."
He couldn't.
"I fried my neurocircuits," Starscream said.
Optimus's optics widened. "But you did it."
This fragging idiot.
"I was berthridden," Starscream hissed.
"It would be worth the cost—"
Starscream leaned close, baring his dentae. "You're too important!"
"But you aren't?"
Starscream backed off. That stupid afthelm, how could he…? He'd forced Starscream into a corner!
"I was testing a hypothesis," Starscream said. "It won't work for any drone but me."
Optimus's face fell. "You're certain?"
"Absolutely certain," Starscream said, resisting the urge to glare again.
Optimus stared for a moment, optics searching Starscream's face. Then, he sighed and rose from his place.
"Thank you," he said.
What an odd mech.
☆☆☆
The rations stretched surprisingly far. They were nearly three-quarters of the way before they had to reduce them. Unfortunately, this just confirmed Starscream's suspicions. Once they reached Cybertron, they would starve.
The door slid open. Starscream sighed, preparing to greet one of the many possible mecha it could be. As he looked up from the datapad he was checking statistics on, his spark froze. Familiar, burning red optics stared down at him.
"I figured I'd find you here," Megatron said.
Starscream's grip tightened on the datapad. He forced himself to relax, not wanting to damage the screen.
"What do you want?" Starscream said.
"Don't be like that," Megatron said, taking a step into the room. "I need to talk to you."
Giving up on relaxing, Starscream placed the datapad beside him on the berth. "Is it truly so urgent that you couldn't send a message?"
The brute came closer. Starscream's wings twitched as he stopped himself from fanning them out. A threat display would only encourage the brute. He had to stay calm, stay still—maybe then the fragger would get bored and leave him alone.
"It's personal," Megatron said.
Starscream dug his claws into the edge of the berth. Not this slag again.
"No," Starscream said. "Frag off."
Megatron's strides grew longer, footfalls heavier. His burning gaze lit aflame, turning to a glare as his brow furrowed.
"You don't get to tell me that," Megatron said, practically spitting the words.
He leaned close, olfactory to olfactory with Starscream. Starscream finally allowed himself to bare his teeth, leaning backward as he flared his wings.
"Get it over with," Starscream hissed.
Megatron's lips curled. He clenched his fists, and Starscream readied himself to evade an attack. It never came.
"I made… errors in disciplining you," Megatron said. "But if I hadn't, you wouldn't have learned."
What the frag? How could the brute manage to apologize without even understanding he'd done anything wrong?
"What sort of lesson were you trying to teach me? That I should be beaten and mocked for being myself?" Starscream said.
Megatron's optics narrowed. "That you can't yell and scream and expect to walk all over me. This sort of attitude is exactly why."
"You can't be serious!" Starscream spat, rising from the berth. "You held the power! You always have! I had to make myself heard! What did you expect me to do?"
Starscream knew the answer before the brute spoke.
"Sit and listen."
How could he say that? Didn't he see how hypocritical it was? Had Megatron viewed him as a mech, or merely as a drone? It seemed the answer was clear.
Starscream forced himself to meet the brute's optics. "If you expected me to do that, you never knew me."
"I knew you," Megatron said, optics blazing. "Never say I didn't. I picked you up off the ground, plating barely held together, and watched you as you recovered. I saved your life. I helped you liberate your Seekers. I helped you get revenge against the Council. There isn't a single thing in your life that you can't thank me for."
Starscream flicked his wings. "Skywarp."
Megatron's optics widened. "What?"
"Skywarp," Starscream repeated. "You had nothing to do with her. Or Thundercracker."
And Jetfire, precious Jetfire, was all his own doing—but he didn't dare bring that up. The farther away the brute was from his newspark, the better.
"And you may have created them," Starscream said. "But the Decepticons are under my command now. They follow us because they chose to, not because they'll get slagged if they don't."
"I never coerced anyone into following me," Megatron said.
Starscream laughed. "Sure! You just recruited a bunch of mecha that were considered property, that were forced out on the streets, and that could barely afford to live! Then, you started threatening them with violence if they stepped out of line! Where were we going to go if we changed our minds?"
Megatron stared.
"That's right!" Starscream exclaimed. "Nowhere! We had nowhere to go! At least with you, we weren't going to starve! At first, anyway. That's a moot point now."
The brute continued to stare. Were any of his words sinking in? Starscream leaned close, deciding to risk retaliation.
"We're heading toward a slow, painful death," he hissed. "All because you couldn't tolerate the idea that sometimes, someone knows things better than you!"
The brute didn't react. He continued staring blankly into Starscream's optics. Starscream looked away for a moment, twitching his wings. Why was he just standing there? Was he going to grab him again?
Starscream sidestepped, passing the brute. Megatron didn't turn.
"You know," Starscream said quietly, wings drooping. "I believed in you. Not in that stupid artifact—just you. I didn't even think it was real until Prime stole it from you."
"He didn't steal it."
Starscream's wings shot up. "What?"
"He didn't steal it," Megatron repeated. "It chose him. Not me."
"That's… that's ludicrous!" Starscream said, taking a step closer. "You can't expect me to believe—!"
Megatron clenched his fists. "After everything, it didn't choose me."
Starscream shoved the realization that the matrix could choose things aside. The brute wasn't getting away that easily.
"Whoop de fragging do!" Starscream hissed. "The ancient religious artifact liked Optimus more than you. So what? Is not being special the reason why you decided to become a tyrant? How pathetic—"
Megatron turned toward him, lips curled. "No one chose me! Not even you!"
Starscream took a step back, stomping a pede. "I didn't choose you? I killed the council for you! When the Seekers had doubts, I commanded them to follow! I dragged my wingmates into your fragging war!"
He still remembered staring up from the medical berth as Megatron hovered over him. Closing his optics and expecting never to wake up, only to be rescued. The brute seemed impossibly huge back then.
He treated Starscream like a mech. Or at least, he put on a convincing show of it. Helped him repaint his frame and honored his request to join the Decepticons.
Megatron's lips fell, slackening into a frown. "Where did that go, Starscream? I miss it."
Starscream searched the brute's face. His optics smoldered, not burned.
"Do you really not know what you've done?" Starscream whispered.
Megatron looked away. Starscream's plating rattled, limbs shaking. His spark pulsed in his chest.
"You're—you're never going to understand, are you?"
"Starscream—"
Starscream stomped a pede and swept a hand toward the door. "Go! Leave! I never want to speak to you again!"
Surprisingly, the tyrant listened. The door shut with a click.
How could he have never realized? Megatron was never going to understand. It just wasn't possible!
Starscream crossed the room and sprawled into the berth. Ulchtar laid above his head. He grabbed the stuffed animal, squeezing it to his chest. When that didn't calm his spark, he curled in on himself.
He and Megatron were fundamentally different. It hurt, but it was the truth. They would never see optic to optic. Some small, forever young part of Starscream died at the idea.
He was a turbofox, and Megatron was a ferrowolf.
☆☆☆
"I met you before the war."
Starscream jumped, nearly falling as he flung himself in the direction of the voice.
"Bumblebee!" He hissed. "Don't… don't do that."
Bumblebee shrugged and settled beside him. The game room was almost always empty when it wasn't game night, making it the perfect place to sit and contemplate if one wanted to leave their quarters. Bumblebee had one of his copious bee-themed plushies in his lap. He ran his fingers through the tiny fibers that stick out on it as he spoke.
"You didn't recognize me, though. I didn't expect you to."
Starscream looked away, picking at the edges of his arm guards. "I never knew a Bumblebee, that's for certain."
"I wasn't Bumblebee until we got to Earth," Bumblebee said with a slight laugh. "Before then, I was B-127."
The serial number was familiar, but Starscream couldn't place it. He squinted at the other mech.
"You'll need to remind me," he said. "I feel like I should've recognized a bright yellow mech. There aren't many of them around."
Bumblebee smiled. "I was a lot redder back then. Quite a bit of silver, too."
Finally, things shifted into place.
He met a waste disposal drone during his recovery from his attempt to leave the atmosphere. He was left alone, so he seized the opportunity and crawled through a vent that he had slowly screwed open in the moments that he wasn't being watched. But rather than finding an exit, he ran into an ever-narrowing tunnel. In an attempt to turn, he accidentally dislodged a panel and fell straight into an empty waste cart.
The drone organizing the carts discovered him immediately. When Megatron and the others arrived, they seemed to know him. If that was him, Bumblebee wasn't just a high-ranking Autobot—he was one of the earliest Decepticons.
"That was you?" Starscream asked.
"Yeah," Bumblebee said. "Major glow up, huh?"
"Major," Starscream said.
The way Bumblebee looked before wasn't bad, but it was clear that the mech was a lot more comfortable with his current coloration. Starscream could relate. When he wore the red and gold, his plating crawled whenever he caught his reflection. Something was just wrong about it.
A brief silence fell. Starscream fiddled with his arm guards, curiosity striking him.
"Why did you leave?" He asked.
Bumblebee's hands gripped his plushie, practically kneading it. He stared down at it.
"Well…" He said. "Optimus asked me to. I didn't like where the Decepticons were heading."
So, he was one of the mecha who followed Prime during the schism. Starscream should've guessed.
"What about it didn't you like?" Starscream asked.
"Megatron."
Starscream froze. He should've expected an answer like that, but he didn't. He assumed Bumblebee would merely cite a preference for Optimus, or spout some religious slag about the matrix.
"Megatron," Starscream repeated.
"He changed," Bumblebee said. "He used to refuel with us—all of us. If we had concerns, he'd sit with us and talk it out. But then the matrix came up, and it was like he just expected to have everything. I barely saw him. And then he ordered you and the rest of the Seekers to kill the Council without telling any of us…"
Starscream's wings thunked against the wall as they shot up. "You didn't know? I thought that was the plan all along!"
"No," Bumblebee said with a shake of his helm. "Not even Optimus knew."
The brute was a liar all along. But something about that didn't add up. The back of Starscream's processor nagged him, begging him to search for the understanding he was missing.
But he told the fragger that he didn't want to speak to him again. He wouldn't go back on that so soon. Still…
"Did any of us truly know him?" Starscream asked. "Was he just… always like this, and we never realized?"
Bumblebee pulled the stuffed animal to his chest and squeezed it.
"I think he had good intentions," Bumblebee said. "I could never doubt that. But maybe they got lost along the way."
Starscream hummed. "Maybe…"
Megatron had treated him like a mech, at first. He had emphasized Starscream's ability to make his own choices. But as his power grew, Megatron became less and less interested in anything but crushing the opposition—including the autonomy of the mecha he commanded. For a long time, Starscream buried the early days in the back of his processor, choosing only to focus on the harsh and bitter present.
It hurt less to pretend Megatron had been a monster all along.