Chapter Text
Starscream didn't want to expose Jetfire to something he knew was stressful so soon after an episode, but his wounds couldn't be ignored. Small bits of energeon welled up where Jetfire's palms sat, surrounded by melted metal. The damage was mostly to his plating, but from how Jetfire had cringed at a light touch before, it was clear that the warped plating was putting pressure on his internals.
Knock Out, already aware they were coming, barely glanced up as they entered, focused on cleaning a particularly complex tool. As they waited for him to finish, Starscream took the opportunity to examine Jetfire's response to the mech. The newspark's wings were high, but not quivering—he was tense, but not terrified.
Finally, Knock Out placed the tool back on the rack and approached. Jetfire's wings twitched. Knock Out hesitated before speaking.
"Hello, Jetfire," he said, offering a hand. "I'm Knock Out, your… creator's preferred physician."
Starscream rolled his optics, which drew a wry smile from Knock Out. The medic was just stroking his own ego, but the statement was true.
"Hi," Jetfire said, voice so strained that the word bordered on a squeak.
Knock out motioned toward the closest medical berth. "You should sit. Let's take a look at those arms."
Jetfire wordlessly obeyed, staring at the floor after he sat. Knock Out set himself to the task, examining the wound. He retrieved a syringe and aimed it between the newspark's plating.
"What is that?" Jetfire asked shakily.
"Local block," Knock Out said. "So I can remove the plating digging into your internals without causing pain."
The appointment continued like that—Jetfire asking questions while Knock Out worked—until Knock Out was finished with both arms. Jetfire's voice grew more confident with each question, the tension in his body slowly disappearing. At the end of it, Jetfire had fresh patches on both arms.
Just after Knock Out offered Jetfire a gummy and the newspark took it, Starscream was struck with a revelation. He looked at Knock Out, successfully catching the medic's attention.
"We think he manifested an outlier—"
Knock Out cut Starscream off with a scoff. "Obviously. You don't get heat warping like this every day."
"Shouldn't he be resistant to it?" Starscream asked, twitching his wings irritably at being interrupted.
"That's ideal, yes," Knock Out said. "But an outlier manifesting before the frame has protective measures in place isn't uncommon."
Starscream would have to take his word for it. He hadn't been around when Skywarp and Thundercracker manifested theirs. If any of the other Seekers had this issue, they wouldn't have told him.
Knock Out turned back to Jetfire with a smile. "Be careful when you practice with your ability. Not just because of the patches."
Jetfire nodded. "Okay."
The door to the medbay slid open, startling the small gathering of mecha. Ratchet entered, making his way to the group. Jetfire watched him, wings drifting upward. Starscream fought a sigh—it would take the newspark just as long as before to relax again. They really needed to work on that.
"Ah," Ratchet said with a tired sigh. "The mech of the hour. I'm Ratchet, though I think you've seen me before."
"Yeah," Jetfire squeaked.
Ratchet reached for Jetfire's arm, pausing when the newspark leaned away.
"I just need to connect to your medical port," Ratchet said. "Your creator wants me to check something."
Hesitantly, Jetfire offered his arm. Ratchet inserted his cable into the port. After a moment, he hummed.
"He has your glitch," Ratchet said to Starscream.
Starscream hadn't wanted to believe it was spark-coded, but Jetfire was living proof. An inability to sense EM fields explained the newspark's jumpiness after the encounter with Megatron. He couldn't sense that others didn't want to hurt him, so he assumed the contrary. It was distressingly familiar.
"What does that mean?" Jetfire asked quietly.
Ratchet glanced at Starscream. Starscream stared back. How could he explain this? Silence passed over the room.
"Oh, for Primus' sake!" Knock Out exclaimed, stepping back into the group. "It's not that difficult."
He turned back toward Jetfire, offering the newspark a container of energeon gummies. Jetfire took it cautiously, making no move to open it.
"Nearly all mecha are forged or created with a set of electromagnetic sensors," Knock Out said. He motioned to the sides of his neck. "The most powerful ones are here, but they're all over the frame. But just like neurocircuits can malfunction and filters can degrade, EM sensors may encounter problems. You and your creator have coding in your spark that keeps your processor from reading the information those sensors feed you."
Jetfire blinked at him. "Okay. What do they do when they're read correctly?"
"They interpret the fluctuations in fields of the mecha surrounding you," Ratchet said.
"Yes," Knock Out said. "Which are correlated with emotion and thought. That means a mech with typical processing can get a general idea of how the mecha around them are feeling by reading their fields."
"But I can't," Jetfire said.
Knock Out nodded. "No, you cannot."
"Okay."
Okay? Just okay? Jetfire was just told that he lacked a fundamental sense all other mecha had and all he had to say was okay?
"You're… fine with this?" Starscream said, failing to control his tone.
Jetfire scrunched his olfactory ridge. "Should I not be?"
Starscream didn't know how to answer that. Obviously, missing an entire sense was a disaster. What else would it be? They would never be able to read a mech properly, no matter how much they compensated by watching body language or interpreting tone. Every other mech spoke a secret language they weren't privy to.
If his abnormality was discovered before the war, Starscream wouldn't be alive. His frame would have been recycled for scrap like the millions of others that failed testing. Jetfire, if he were created back then, would've met the same fate.
And that was the issue, wasn't it? Starscream may have lacked a sense, but it was other mecha who made it a problem. He survived this long without even knowing, outliving many perfectly normal mecha, but his society could never have imagined that.
"It just makes me more like you," Jetfire said.
Starscream's fingers twitched. A melancholic warmth rose within him, turning his spark. Conflicting energies warred beneath his plating until he gave in, diving forward and wrapping his arms around his newspark. Jetfire returned the embrace.
When it ended, Starscream pulled away, searching for words he couldn't find. Jetfire smiled at him, wings relaxed.
"You can't just say things like that," Starscream muttered.
Jetfire's wings lifted. "Why not?"
The newspark was so naive. He didn't understand what such a thing meant. That was the only explanation. Starscream couldn't begrudge a mech so new to the world for knowing nothing, could he?
"Forget it," Starscream said. "Let's head to our quarters."
They spent the rest of the day in recharge.
☆☆☆
Breaking the news about how the CRI tackled the fuel problem to the Autobots and Decepticons was a difficult task, but one Starscream was fully prepared to handle. Any mech that claimed otherwise was lying. He definitely didn't lose his temper during the announcement after the thousandth question that was just a rewording of the first one he answered. No one could prove that.
The medics went first, so that they could learn the surgery after they recovered. Though small in number, any extra hands sped up the process. Since the surgery, Knock Out took a liking to lightdeer, and extolled its virtues to any post-surgery mech willing to listen. Bumblebee claimed the creature was too difficult to chew. Each of Blitzwing's aspects gave completely different answers every time they were asked for their preferences.
Starscream, wary of potential complications, requested to be placed toward the end of the list. Optimus, ever the self-sacrificing fool, asked the same. The rations were shrinking by the day, and the line energeon of mechanimals was barely a substitute. By the time they reached the end of the list, there may be no energeon left.
Starscream sighed as air whooshed through the room again. Skywarp appeared before him, wings twitching with tension. She muttered to herself and disappeared, only to reappear a few moments later.
"You're wasting energy," Starscream said.
"No!" Skywarp exclaimed. "I'm just…"
Starscream rolled his optics. "Just what?"
"I don't know!" Skywarp said. "But it's not a waste of energy."
Maybe he should let her tire herself out. It might make it easier for the surgeons to induce stasis. As Skywarp warped in and out again, Starscream resigned himself to his fate. Until it was time to leave, there was no settling Skywarp down.
It was between one of these anxious warps that Skywarp paused, stretching her arms. Starscream froze. Did he just hear what he thought he heard?
"Skywarp," Starscream said. "Please tell me I didn't hear that."
She turned to him, optics wide. Her arms remained stretched as she stared at him.
"Nope," she said.
Starscream stood up, heading toward her. "You wouldn't mind stretching again, would you? For the peace of my processor?"
Skywarp pulled her arms back toward herself—there it was again—and shook her head. "Well, I already stretched, so—"
"Skywarp."
She took a step back. Starscream moved to grab her arms, and she teleported away. For whatever reason, she didn't want this looked at. With a sigh, Starscream contemplated a different approach.
"You're being a hypocrite," Starscream said.
Skywarp tensed, and there it was again—a quiet click. How hadn't Starscream heard it before? How had Skywarp let it get bad enough to be heard from a distance? Joint malfunctions were painful!
"Come on," Starscream said, taking a step closer. Skywarp didn't back away. "You're always nagging me about my limits, but you're too neglectful to take care of your own frame."
Skywarp's wings fanned out. "It's not neglect! It just—"
"If you're not neglectful, then why can I hear your elbows click every time you move?" Starscream interrupted, keeping his tone candy-sweet to take the edge off of his words.
Skywarp stammered. "I—I just…"
"Just let me take a look," Starscream said, closing the gap between them.
With tightly shuttered optics, Skywarp offered her arms. Starscream took them gently, running his claws along the seams. There were heavy signs of abrasion on her right elbow—she had been like this for quite a while. Again, Starscream had to wonder how he'd never noticed.
As he got deeper into the joint, Skywarp's plating tensed.
"It seems like this really hurts," Starscream said. "How did you go so long without getting it looked at?"
"It's not that bad—"
Starscream silenced her with a glare. "Don't lie to me, Warp."
Skywarp slumped. "Okay. I've been taking pain patches from the medbay when they're off shift."
"Warp," Starscream groaned.
Skywarp shook her head. "I know, I know! Okay?"
What was the best approach to this?
"Are you on one right now?" Starscream asked.
"No," Skywarp said. "Just wore off a little bit ago."
At least they wouldn't have to worry about that. Pain relief would already be supplied during the procedure. Primus forbid Skywarp overdosed because of her self-treatment.
Starscream sighed. "We can have the surgeons look at it while you're under."
Skywarp tensed, wings quivering.
"Yeah," she said.
Starscream moved his claws away from the damaged joint. He rubbed Skywarp's forearm as he contemplated his next words.
"What has you so anxious?" He asked.
Skywarp flinched. "It's—it's nothing—"
"Try again."
"They're gonna take my warp drive," she said, shuttering her optics. "I know they're not, but I feel like they are. They're gonna open me up and they're gonna mess around in there, and I don't like it."
"I don't like it, either," Starscream said. "But we have to do it."
Skywarp's wings flicked. "You're used to it. They've had to open you up so many fragging times. I'm not."
"I might be," Starscream said with a shrug. "But that doesn't mean I enjoy it. Besides, Hook is hardly a medic. The CRI knows what they're doing."
"But they're still going to be in there!" Skywarp hissed, grabbing Starscream's arms. "My warp drive is right in the way! They're gonna have to put their hands all over it, and I'm gonna be asleep! What if they mess with it?"
"They have no reason to," Starscream said, repositioning his hands around Skywarp's arms to give her a squeeze.
"But they could!" Skywarp exclaimed. "And I wouldn't even know."
She closed her optics, face twisting into a grimace. Her wings fell.
"Do you want me to watch them?" Starscream asked.
She looked up at him. "You can do that?"
"Would it help?" Starscream said.
Skywarp lunged forward, shoving her face into his shoulders. Starscream fought a flinch from the sudden movement and returned the embrace.
"Yes," Skywarp said. "Please. It really would."
Starscream reached out, stroking the edge of her wing. "Then I will."
☆☆☆
Skywarp's surgery went well. He was allowed to watch—in no small part due to her refusal to succumb to the medical overrides without him in the room—and ensured that no one was poking around where they shouldn't. Skywarp was always protective of her warp drive, but it had been so long since she sustained a serious injury or illness that he'd forgotten.
He had also forgotten the many remarks that caused it. Whether it was Megatron himself or their superiors before they joined the Decepticons, dismantlement was a favored threat for transgressions. Her warp drive could function independently of her, and she hadn't counted as a mech, so why wouldn't they?
Time crept forward, and the list grew shorter as more surgeries were completed. Jetfire was eager for his, finding the ordeal fascinating. If Starscream didn't already know he was interested in medicine, the excitement would've been uncharacteristic. The newspark was reluctant to fly—something fundamental to his frame type—and terrified of strangers, but he was totally fine with having his internals rearranged.
Ravage had already taken to the surgery, finding joy in catching small mechanimals and devouring them in front of whatever poor mecha happened to be around. There were still remains of the last petrorabbit the cybercat caught hiding somewhere in the New Decepticon command quarters. Starscream checked the entire room from top to bottom, but hadn't managed to find them.
Soundwave hadn't complained when it was his turn. A few times, Starscream caught him sharing with Ravage. One particularly upsetting time, he had entered the room to take a nap only to find the two (plus Rumble and Frenzy) eating a lightdeer on the berth. His nap never occurred.
Starscream sipped his cube—a quarter of the ration they started with—and sighed at the memory. Fewer mecha needed the energeon than ever, but somehow there was even less to go around.
☆☆☆
Starscream drifted out of recharge to a quiet voice. He rolled onto his other side, determined to finish his nap. A hand shook his shoulder, the voice growing more desperate.
"Starscream?"
His lagging processor finally caught up. Jetfire was in danger! He sat up, protocols engaging to… what was going on again?
"What do you need?" Starscream asked.
The newspark's plating was tense. His free hand rested over his abdomen.
"My fuel tank hurts," he whined.
Starscream pushed himself onto his knees. "What have you eaten recently?"
Jetfire stammered, and Starscream sighed. The newspark had already been scolded several times for eating things he shouldn't. Apparently, he had taken to the new systems too well, and they often made him crave things that weren't meant to be eaten. So far, that hadn't caused any meaningful issues, aside from the medics having to watch Jetfire when he was around their tools.
Starscream was shocked when he caught Jetfire munching on the corner of a datapad, of all things. The screen had fallen off and he'd already eaten it. The materials used to make their tools and technology resembled the ones that mechanimals (and Cybertronians themselves) were composed of, so it only made sense. For whatever reason, Jetfire's fuel identification protocols decided the similarity was enough to consider tools and tech as valid of food sources as mechanimals.
So, what had he managed to eat that finally gave him trouble?
"I actually, um… didn't eat much today."
"But what exactly did you eat?"
Jetfire's gaze fell. "Just a little bit of ferroet. Ravage offered."
"Nothing else?" Starscream asked.
"Nothing else…"
Typically, the newspark's appetite was insatiable. How could he have eaten so little?
"How long has this actually been going on?" Starscream asked.
Jetfire flinched. "Um, uh… a few days? Maybe? It didn't hurt as much at first."
Starscream exited the berth and offered a hand to Jetfire. The newspark took it, gripping it with more force than usual. As he stood, he curled forward—an obvious sign of pain.
"Let's go to the medbay," Starscream said.
Jetfire nodded weakly.
The walk was swift, though Jetfire did lag behind a few times, squeezing Starscream's hand as he stood. It only encouraged Starscream to move faster once the newspark was able to move again. Something about seeing his newspark in pain tore at Starscream's spark. He had to fix it as soon as possible.
They crossed the entrance of the medbay and aw, slag—Starscream forgot to send a comm. Hook, Ratchet, and Knock Out stared at them from various places in the room. Hook was the first to jump into action.
"What's going on?" Hook asked.
Starscream relayed the information Jetfire just gave him. The newspark stared at the ground, still hugging his abdomen.
"Alright," Hook said to Jetfire, motioning toward one of the berths. "Lay down."
Jetfire obeyed. Hook tapped on the newspark's hands, prompting him to remove them form his abdomen. Then, the medic set to work, running his hands over the area. When he reached the area Jetfire was guarding, the newspark let out a pained squeak. Starscream's plating ruffled at the noise.
"Keep your weapons turned off," Hook told him with a roll of his optics. "I'm just getting a sense of the issue."
Starscream tapped his pede, but said nothing. Hook continued, muttering quietly.
"Distension of the fuel tank, processing tubes… There it is."
Hook pulled away.
"What is it?" Starscream asked.
"He's obstructed," Hook said. Then, he tapped on Jetfire's arm. "Open up."
Jetfire opened his medical port. Hook connected to it and tutted.
"Low line pressure," he said with a sigh.
He pulled the closest intralineal machine toward him. Then, after checking the bag already hooked up to it and sighing, he took another from a nearby drawer and replaced it. Jetfire sat up and winced, attempting to view the medic as he worked. Hook glanced at him.
"Lay back down," Hook said. "I'm just going to give you some med grade. Get that line pressure where it should be."
As Hook connected the machine to Jetfire's medical intake, he glanced at the newspark's face.
"Have you been passing waste?" Hook asked.
Jetfire opened his mouth, then shut it. His wings fell as he looked away. Hook sighed.
"It's an embarrassing question," Hook said. "But I need to know."
Starscream was suddenly reminded of the drawbacks of the new fuel processing system. Although they could digest nearly anything available to them now, the process created liquid waste that had to be manually eliminated. It was beneficial in some areas—Starscream wouldn't need to worry about crystals in his fuel lines after the surgery because he would have a way to get rid of them—but very undignified in every other.
"No," Jetfire muttered. "Not since it started hurting."
Hook turned and shouted across the room at the other two medics.
"Get me a large container and an intake-tank tube!"
Knock Out placed the instrument he was scrubbing on the counter and shouted back, "What size?"
Hook motioned to Jetfire. "Use your processor!"
Knock Out scowled and opened a nearby drawer, rifling through it.
"Biggest size it is," he muttered.
Meanwhile, Ratchet had already disappeared into the back, returning a moment later with the requested large container. He handed it to Hook, who placed it at the edge of the berth. Knock Out soon arrived with the tube, handing it over to Hook with an exasperated sigh.
Hook held the tube up to Jetfire, who flinched backward at first. After a moment, the medic nodded to himself. He yelled to the other medics again.
"One of you, come over and help me with this!"
Ratchet and Knock Out exchanged glares in a silent battle of will. Eventually, Ratchet shook his head and made his way over.
"This might be uncomfortable," Hook said to Jetfire. "But it's going to help."
"What are you doing?" Jetfire asked.
Hook explained as he worked—the tube would go through Jetfire's mouth and into his fuel tank. Cybertronians, unlike some of their mechanimal relatives, couldn't vomit, so the tube would help remove the contents of Jetfire's fuel tank, easing the pressure that had built up. After they passed the tube, Jetfire let out a whine.
Starscream was at his side immediately, some alarm in the back of his processor going off that he wasn't fully aware of. Hook stepped toward him, brow furrowed, then paused.
"Whatever," he said, waving a hand. "You can hold him. Just don't get in the way."
Starscream did just that, wrapping himself around the newspark as Hook and Ratchet repositioned him. With great effort, Starscream ignored the sounds of the medics draining Jetfire's fuel tank, focusing on the newspark himself. Jetfire's wings twitched, plating tight—he was anxious and in pain.
Starscream glared at the closest medic, which happened to be Ratchet. "He's hurting. Do something."
Ratchet glanced across the room. Knock Out stared back at him, then started searching one of the drawers.
"He'll be okay," Ratchet said to Starscream.
Knock Out came from behind, telegraphing his movements. Despite knowing he was there to help, something in the back of Starscream's processor wanted to snap at the medic. He shoved that aside, scrutinizing Knock Out's work as he placed the pain patch. Immediately, the tension drained from Jetfire's body.
Eventually, the ordeal was over. The tube was removed, but the intralineal was left in place. Jetfire, thoroughly exhausted, fell into recharge. Starscream continued to hold him.
"I'd prefer if he stayed overnight," Hook said to Starscream. "I can't be certain the obstruction was removed."
All that and he wasn't even sure? Starscream's claws itched.
"How will you know?" Starscream asked.
"When he's able to pass waste again," Hook said. "If it doesn't happen within a couple of days, we'll have to consider surgery."
"Surgery," Starscream repeated.
"Yes," Hook said, adjusting a value on the intralineal. "Surgery. But he's a large mech. Hopefully, we dislodged enough material for it to clear on its own."
Starscream absentmindedly stroked Jetfire's wing. The newspark curled into the touch.
"You know an awful lot about this," Starscream said.
Medics only learned to care for Cybertronians, who lacked the complicated fuel processing systems of their distant mechanimal relatives. Ratchet, a fully qualified general practitioner, and Knock Out, a trained plastic surgeon, would know nothing about those systems. They had to learn as they went, as evidenced by their lack of input during Jetfire's treatment.
Hook had never completed medical school. He had no qualifications. Starscream knew this, because before the list of Decepticon medics dwindled to near none, Starscream refused to be treated by an unqualified mech.
"I worked as a vet nurse before I decided to change fields," Hook said. "It was common for some unlucky mech to bring in their cyberpup after it got into something it shouldn't have."
Starscream's nickname for Jetfire took on a new level of irony.
"What made you change your mind?" Starscream asked.
Hook looked down, optics meeting Starscream's.
"My gestalt," Hook said. "I knew war was coming. I wanted to keep them safe."
Starscream's gaze fell, wings drooping. Hook's gestalt—the Constructicons.
"Don't do that," Hook scolded. "Whatever you're thinking, stop it."
"I'm not thinking anything."
Hook sighed. "Slag happens. Everyone lost someone. Multiple someones. I learned to live with the silence. There's always another mech to save."
Starscream didn't reply. The room fell silent, save for the hum of the intralineal.