Chapter Text
Contrary to what many mecha assumed about Jetfire, he wasn't entirely naive. He may not have as much life experience as his creator, but he still knew suspicious situations when he saw them. These Autobots were nothing like the ones in their world, and it was best to treat them as completely different mecha.
Still, he found himself tempted by the soft-spoken medic. Something about First Aid just radiated safety, which was interesting, since he carried the same processing glitch as his creator, so he couldn't have been sensing the medic's field. So, when Skywarp insisted on Starscream getting a checkup, Jetfire knew he had to interfere, even if it meant putting himself close to a stranger.
He tucked the Emberstone safely in his cockpit while no one was looking, then made his move. First Aid had already guided Starscream to a berth for his exam, and was in the process of convincing him to cooperate.
"Um, hi," Jetfire said, doing his best to keep his voice friendly. When First Aid turned toward him, he added, "I'm Jetfire. A medic in training."
"Hello, Jetfire," First Aid said.
[Starscream isn't a fan of exams,] Jetfire sent. It wasn't exactly a lie—his creator despised them—but it wasn't his motivation. [It'll go better if I help.]
First Aid nodded. They began a basic helm to pede exam. Jetfire turned up the sensitivity of his audials, listening for Starscream's fans. He tended not to take breaks when they were needed, which only made it easier for him to tire himself out. The hum was quiet, so Jetfire returned his sensitivity to normal.
His creator was foolish about a lot of things. Typically, it was related to how other mecha treated him. Probably because he barely valued himself—it was a challenge just to take him in for basic monitoring.
They finished the outward portion of the examination—Starscream had several dents, most of them on his wings, but no open wounds—and Jetfire moved to intercept First Aid before he could ask Starscream to open his panel. Starscream was oddly secretive about their glitches, so having a strange medic poking around in his files wasn't the best idea.
"I can do this part," he said, really hoping the medic wouldn't put up a fight.
Luckily, First Aid was a very calm mech, and just nodded. So, Jetfire tapped on Starscream's medical panel.
"C'mon," he said. "You know what to do."
Starscream sighed and the panel popped open. Jetfire pulled out his plug and made the connection. Instantly, his processor flooded with values. He viewed them in order of importance.
Temperature? Low, but that was normal for him. Starscream barely ran at the ideal values he was taught in school on a good day.
Fuel levels? Decent. He could do with a meal when they got out of here, though.
Fuel line pressure? A bit low. He definitely needed a meal. Had he been skipping them before they left? Again?
Air change rate? Good.
The spark values were strong, like they always were. Jetfire hoped that would never change. His other values were within normal limits. Not much to worry about other than fuel, which…
They had modified systems. These Cybertronians didn't. They could drink energeon, but it was one of the less pleasurable ways of consuming fuel…
The ever-present pit in Jetfire's belly grew deeper. His dentae itched, craving something to chew. He checked his fuel levels, and they came back barely low enough to justify a meal. He was just hungry. It was fine.
(Never mind that his secondary tank was almost full.)
"His vitals are normal," Jetfire said.
"That's good," First Aid said.
The results of the exam were entered into a new record, and the appointment was considered over. Jetfire read First Aid's portion of the notes before he wrote his. One of the first notes was to take a cautious approach with Starscream. Jetfire smiled to himself—his creator would be in good hands if First Aid cared enough to make note of that. His wings twitched as he got to the plating condition score. He was rated lower than his last appointment. That just made getting him to fuel even more important.
Jetfire prepared himself to complain about his fuel levels—if he was hungry, they'd all have to get a meal. It didn't matter that he wasn't actually that hungry as long as it worked.
"On to the scrambler for Skywarp, then," Starscream said, glancing pointedly in her direction.
Right. Jetfire forgot about that. The meal would have to wait a bit longer, but he would be ready.
"Yes!" First Aid said. "I think we have a spare in storage…"
He wandered into the closet. A cacophony of noise reached the room as he rummaged around, eventually emerging with a small device in his hand. As he approached the group, he waved it in Skywarp's direction.
"Right here!" He said.
His optics roved over Skywarp's frame. Then, he nodded and retrieved something from one of the cabinets. A glimpse of the label on the container revealed its contents: frame glue.
"I'm going to apply it externally," First aid said. "Where would you prefer it?"
Skywarp's plating visibly relaxed on the word 'externally.' Clearly, this device could also be applied internally, which Jetfire was glad First Aid hadn't considered. It was probably placed directly onto the warp drive in that case. If First Aid had gone for that option, Skywarp would've warped out of the medbay—Galvatron tracking her or not.
Skywarp hummed, then placed her claws on her left pauldron. "Is here good?"
"There is good!" First Aid said, opening the container of frame glue.
He placed the scrambler on, then activated it with a click. Skywarp moved to stand, but he stopped her with a gentle hand. She paused, and he pulled out a small chip.
"Since we placed it externally, the scrambler runs on a separate power source," First Aid said. "This chip will let you see how much it has left. It's not safe to warp if it has no power."
Skywarp nodded and took the chip. She stared down at it, hesitating.
"Put it in your sublingual drive," First Aid said softly.
Skywarp did as she was told. The chip integrated with a click.
The sublingual drive wasn't commonly used, mainly because modifications were typically integrated into the frame. Most information could be transferred over connections, which made the drive even less popular. But it was very useful for niche situations like this, especially if a modification was temporary—which First Aid seemed to assume this was.
"Can you read the number?" First Aid asked.
Skywarp nodded and read the number aloud.
"Good," First Aid said. "Try warping across the room."
Skywarp activated her warp drive, its quiet hum filling the room, and disappeared. With a pop of air, she appeared on the other side of the room. She flicked one of her wings, then lowered both of them. As she made her way back to the group, she walked slightly low. The posture was familiar—it vaguely resembled the one Starscream adopted toward the end of his bad days, but less extreme.
Jetfire struggled to place it. They'd discussed it in his classes, but only briefly. What was it? Something about balance? Skywarp's gyroscopic sensors typically compensated for her warps, but if the scrambler was interfering with that…
First Aid opened his mouth to ask a question, but Skywarp raised her wings and placed her hands on her hips. "It works!"
Jetfire glanced at First Aid. She hadn't looked fine. But maybe Jetfire was just imagining it. Or, just like his creator, she was being a stubborn fragger and refusing to admit something was wrong. He'd have to keep a close watch on her.
First Aid sighed, entering something into the medical computer. Then, he turned to the group. "Is there anything else you mecha needed today?"
A quick exchange of glances gave a negative result. They said goodbye and headed into the hall. First Aid was nice, despite being a stranger. Jetfire wouldn't mind working with him.
But now, it was time to put his plan into action. As they walked down the hall, he increased his speed, creeping up behind Starscream until he could reach his hands. Gently—always gently, he had to be gentle—he took Starscream's hand. Starscream twitched a wing and turned toward him.
"What's going on?" He asked.
Jetfire exaggerated the shakiness of his voice. It wasn't difficult—the pit in his belly was making his spark hurt.
"I'm hungry," he said. "Can we get some fuel?"
Starscream's optics met Jetfire's face and he melted. Objective achieved.
"Of course," he said. He turned to Skyfire. "Can you take us to the mess hall?"
◇◇◇
Jetfire regretted coming into the mess hall, but he'd never tell Starscream—or any of the group—that. When they entered, mecha stared, the room hushing for a moment. Then, the chatter started up again, this time focusing on them. The pit in Jetfire's belly grew deeper, and his spark hurt even more. So many strangers, and they were all staring.
They weren't staring at him. Not really. They were just staring in his direction, straight at Skywarp and Starscream. For some reason, they were really obsessed with them. Jetfire didn't like it. He wrung his hands until the joints ached as the pit threatened to swallow him.
It would be fine. It had to be fine.
He really wanted a hug, but the mission came first. Besides, wouldn't that just draw even more attention toward them?
They weren't in the system yet, so Skyfire and the red Starscream got cubes from the dispenser for them. Jetfire tried to disguise the disappointed sink of his wings as they took their seats. Now that he'd gotten his fuel processing systems altered, energeon was so boring.
The strange new mech, Thundercracker, took a seat next to Skywarp. She didn't seem to mind. Jetfire placed himself between Skywarp and Starscream, determined not to be next to Skyfire or the red Starscream. It didn't matter that the red Starscream was a version of his creator, she wasn't him!
Jetfire drank his fuel with little interest in what it tasted like. It was all just uniform liquid, anyway. The pit was still there. Normally, when he ate, it went away! But this was just energeon. Energeon had never helped him.
His dentae itched. He needed something to chew.
Starscream was speaking. Something about sleeping arrangements? The important part was that he wasn't looking, and neither was anyone else. Jetfire downed the contents of his cube as quickly as he could. He fought a flinch as it passed into his primary fuel tank more quickly than it could drain to his secondary, filling it over capacity. Still…
Jetfire placed his dentae on the lid of the cube and bit down. It gave with an audible crack.
"Jetfire!"
Oh, slag. Jetfire bit harder. A piece of the cube broke off into his mouth just before Starscream wrenched it from his hands. Starscream squinted at him, holding the cube on the other side of himself.
"Open your mouth," Starscream hissed.
Jetfire shook his head. Starscream sighed and placed the bitten cube in front of Skyfire. Then, he reached over and grabbed the sides of Jetfire's face.
"Just like a cyberpup," he muttered, digging his fingers into the hinges of Jetfire's jaw. "I asked Hook to show me this."
Against his will, Jetfire's jaw opened. Starscream held it there, inspecting it. With an impossibly quick motion, he reached in and grabbed the fragment. As Jetfire massaged his now-sore jaw, Starscream placed the fragment inside of the broken cube.
"You know I can eat it," Jetfire whined.
"Actually," Starscream said with a sigh. "After rushing you to Hook for emergency treatment three times, I don't."
Jetfire sank in his seat. What could he do to get rid of the pit now? Fidgeting wasn't enough. It lessened the immediate ache, but it didn't fix anything.
Jetfire flinched as his comm pinged.
[We'll head to Skyfire's quarters soon,] Starscream sent. [You just need to hang on a little longer, okay?]
Jetfire huffed and slumped onto the table, burying his face in his arms.
"He does that often?" The red Starscream asked.
Great. Now they were talking about him.
◇◇◇
They were about to enter Skyfire's quarters when disaster struck. The other Starscream pressed the keypad to unlock the door. It slid open and something behind it popped, sending a splatter of colorful paint straight onto the three leading members of the group: the other Starscream, Starscream himself, and Skywarp. Thundercracker was caught in the crossfire, flicking a lightly dotted wing as both Starscreams groaned a their plight. Jetfire and Skyfire, both at the back of the group, were spared.
"Do you have a washrack?" Starscream asked, claws dripping with paint. "I'd prefer not to be green."
Skyfire shook his head. Before Starscream could speak again, Thundercracker motioned toward the halls.
"We can show you the way."
Starscream hummed and they followed her down the hall. Jetfire crossed his arms, the pit growing deeper. They were leaving him now? With Skyfire?
He caught Starscream's optics.
[We'll be back soon,] Starscream sent.
Jetfire looked away, his plating itching. Sure, he'd gone to classes on his own, but Skywarp had dropped him off! This was a completely different universe, and he was surrounded by Autobots! Strange Autobots. He knew he was being irrationally clingy, but he couldn't help it!
Skyfire beckoned him into his quarters. Reluctantly, Jetfire stepped through the doorway. Three berths sat in the corner of the room, two of them pushed together. Did he share this with Thundercracker and the red Starscream?
There were no spare berths, blankets, or couches. They probably expected the group to sleep on the floor, then. It wouldn't be comfortable, but they would manage it. A small shelf of datapads sat on the other side of the door, a desk roughly perpendicular to it.
Jetfire plucked a random datapad from the shelf and sat at the desk. If he was reading, Skyfire wouldn't bother him. Hopefully.
The datapad was a story—some sort of romance, based on the very brief summary on the first page. Romances weren't Jetfire's favorite type of story, but he could tolerate them.
"If those two are the Starscream and Skywarp of your world, you must be me."
Slag it all.
"No," Jetfire said.
Though, as he glared at Skyfire, the mech's stripes caught his optics. They were the same blue as Starscream's gauntlets—the exact same blue he used to have before he got repainted. The pit came back and Jetfire forced himself to read the datapad.
The main character of the story was some sort of dockworker. He nearly died when a group of rebels attacked the dock, but an ancient artifact saved his life—
"What was Thundercracker like in your world?"
Jetfire hadn't even finished the first chapter.
"I never knew a mech named Thundercracker," Jetfire said. "So I can't tell you."
Skyfire frowned as his wings drooped. Jetfire went back to the datapad.
The leader of the rebels noticed the dockworker and recognized the artifact. It was what they were searching for. But now, it had integrated with the dockworker. So, they took him with them—
"When were you made?"
Jetfire shrugged. "About six years ago."
"Earth years?" Skyfire asked, optics widening.
"What other years are there?"
Skyfire sighed. "Right…"
The main character was being introduced to the other rebels. Apparently, the artifact that revived them was immensely powerful, and held the key to the rebels' victory—
The door slid open, startling both mecha in the room. Thundercracker slipped through it, glancing at Jetfire before settling beside Skyfire. She leaned into him, their wings intertwining.
If she was back…
"Where's everyone else?" Jetfire asked.
Thundercracker withdrew from Skyfire, paying no attention to the way his wings shifted downward.
"They're still finishing up," she said. "They had a lot more paint on them than I did."
Jetfire fought a sigh and went back to the datapad. The main character was reluctant to trust the rebels, but they had answers. The rebel leader hoped the artifact would choose him, and was bitter about being spurned by the story's imaginary deities. Jetfire was reminded that this story was a romance when said leader kissed the main character for no apparent reason. It wasn't intentional—the author hadn't gone that far—but it was a kiss regardless.
Jetfire skimmed through several paragraphs of the main character waffling about the rebel leader turned love interest. What about the artifact? Wasn't that more important than some mech he'd just met? Jetfire almost wished the story hadn't been a romance…
A whoosh of air brought his attention away from the datapad. Skywarp popped in slightly above the floor. Immediately upon her pedes hitting the ground, she stumbled forward into the desk, landing on it belly-down with a disturbed squawk. She rolled onto her side, wings scraping against the wall, and grinned at Jetfire.
"I meant to do that," she said. Her optics landed on the datapad. "What'cha reading?"
"Some sort of romance," Jetfire said.
Skywarp reached for the datapad. Jetfire let her take it. She leaned back, skimming it.
"Oooh!" She said. "The Rebel's Dockworker. This one's weird. An… old friend made me read it."
The door slid open, saving Jetfire from having to talk about the story. Both Starscreams passed through it, the red one heading straight for Thundercracker and Skyfire. Jetfire's Starscream settled beside him, one hand on the datapad shelf and the other on his hips.
"Thank Primus it was Earth paint and not Cybertronian paint," Starscream muttered. "Or that would've taken much longer."
"Sunstreaker stopped using Cybertronian paint after the last time he pulled this," the red Starscream said, a grin stretching across her face as she examined her fingertips. "I made sure he wouldn't."
Jetfire finally recognized exactly what made the red Starscream so unsettling. Her fingertips were blunt, but they still tapered, as if someone had filed them down. Her dentae were completely flat, lacking the distinct points that his creator had. No rays were fastened to her arms.
Skywarp stretched, nearly falling off the narrow desk. "We'll have to get him back. Prankster's code."
Thundercracker sighed. "If you really must…"
◇◇◇
The silent prank war escalated for a few weeks before dying an unceremonious death when Sunstreaker set off a glitter bomb in the middle of the mess hall. Skywarp placed a trap on the energeon dispenser, somehow rigging it to dispense the glitter bomb only to Sunstreaker. Both of them were made to clean up the mess, and neither wanted to repeat the incident. It was all anyone in the halls talked about for weeks.
Jetfire didn't care. The pranks were annoying when he was caught in the crossfire, but it only happened a couple of times. He just hoped he never met Sunstreaker. The thing he truly cared about was finally being allowed to train in the medbay. First Aid was a patient instructor, and Jetfire grew more excited for his shift each day.
He headed toward the medbay, fluttering his wings as he enjoyed the tranquility of the empty halls, when his comm received a message.
[Sorry, Jetfire. Something urgent came up. We can't train today.]
Jetfire's spark grew cold. The pit crept back in, slowly consuming him. What was he going to do now? He planned his entire day, and now all of it was ruined!
"You really do look just like Skyfire."
Jetfire jumped, wings flaring as he whipped toward the voice. A bright yellow mech stood before him, side by side with a duller red mech. Jetfire forced his now-fluttering wings to still.
"I've heard that before," he said.
The yellow one stepped closer. "What's a sweet shuttle like you doing hanging out with those creepy Seekers?"
Jetfire took a step back. He glanced at the red mech. The red mech didn't move.
The yellow mech's optics skimmed Jetfire's plating. "You don't even have a symbol!"
Jetfire flicked his wings. "So?"
"So why are you with those Cons?"
Why? Wasn't wanting to be with them enough? Starscream created him. Skywarp helped raise him. He loved them, and they loved him.
"Because I am," Jetfire said, walking down the hall.
The yellow mech stepped in front of him, and the red mech followed. Jetfire turned around. He had no idea where to go except back to Skyfire's quarters, but those two Autobots were blocking the way. If he just kept going, maybe they would lose interest and he could turn around again. This base wasn't that big.
The yellow mech blocked his vision.
"I just don't get why you're staying with those sparkless freaks," the mech said. "Seekers are ruthless murderers. It's disturbing just to have them in the base."
Why was he saying that? Jetfire fought back the frustration that crept into his plating, wringing his hands. He had no right to say those things! He didn't even know Starscream and Skywarp!
Jetfire wanted him to stop, but just words wouldn't work. The only option was to leave. So, he brushed past the mech and turned the corner.
Something scraped against his wing. The sensors burned, and he cried out. The thing refused to release him, so he turned and swung.
Metal gave beneath his fist. The creaking crunch struck his audials—a deeply familiar sound.
No!
Jetfire staggered backward, staring at the dent in the yellow mech's plating. The mech stared back at him with wide optics. Then, his face contorted into a snarl.
"You—"
Jetfire turned and fled. He needed out. Indistinguishable halls passed. He turned a corner and his optics were assaulted by bright colors. Bright optics stared back at him.
Not here!
He ran in the other direction as voices called out. Where was the exit? He had to leave—
There! He ran for the door as it shuttered closed. More shouting behind him. He slammed a fist against the door. The metal crumpled, just like—
Jetfire shook his head and wrenched the door open. He sprinted through the doorway and transformed, then took flight. He didn't know how long he flew for or what direction he went in.
One moment, he was in the sky. The next, wood splintered beneath him as fire surrounded him, the earth giving beneath him. Shrubs and leaves were stuck in his seams. He was in robot mode. When had that happened?
When he finally rose, the fire was out. Ash coated the ground, crunching as he sat on it. Warnings on his HUD declared various damages, but he didn't feel any of it.
He didn't feel anything except the pit.
Jetfire's hands closed around a burned tree trunk. It gave under the pressure with a crack, but the force of his grip held it together. It smoked slightly as Jetfire accidentally activated his outlier.
He forced it to turn off. Whenever he grew stressed, it was difficult to control, just like his strength. It all led back to one thing: Jetfire was inherently dangerous.
Jetfire's wings twitched as the pit crept up. His spark hurt.
He placed one of the pieces of wood in his mouth and chewed. It was an interesting texture. He didn't have the opportunity to eat the trees on Cybertron, so he had nothing to compare it to. The flavor was bland, but anything was better than energeon.
He stayed there, savoring the texture of the wood as it split apart in his mouth, until the pit receded.
"Jetfire!"
Jetfire flinched. How had Starscream gotten here to quickly? Beside Starscream, a slightly woozy Skywarp leaned against a tree, giving Jetfire the answer to his own question.
Starscream came closer, scowl fading to a frown. His wings swept low.
"Are you alright?" He asked.
"I—I'm fine," Jetfire stammered. "Just…"
Starscream's optics roamed the area. Then, with a sigh, he settled beside Jetfire.
"Did you get stuck again?" He asked.
Getting 'stuck' is what they called the fits their processing glitch induced. Jetfire had never seen Starscream have one, but he believed his creator. No one would lie about something that hurt so much.
"Yeah," Jetfire said.
"What happened before it?"
"First Aid canceled my training session," Jetfire said. "And I just… I dunno. I don't like it here."
They didn't need to know about those two mecha. They especially didn't need to know about what the yellow one said. Besides, they'd probably just tell him they'd heard that slag before, and he'd just get upset that they weren't upset. No one should be okay with hearing things like that about them.
"Prowl told me you punched Sunstreaker."
Jetfire glanced at his hands. One of them was streaked with yellow paint. He closed his eyes and pushed one of his hands into the crushed wood below him.
Starscream didn't sound angry.
"I just want to know why," Starscream said. "Our acceptance here is tentative. You're smart enough not to endanger that."
"I—" Jetfire paused. Why was it so hard to speak? It was almost like—
Oh. Aw slag. He'd started chewing on a piece of wood again and hadn't even noticed! Starscream was going to be angry now—he was always angry when he ate something he wasn't supposed to. Jetfire took the piece from his mouth and rolled it between his fingers.
"He grabbed my wing," Jetfire said. "Kept saying mean things. Wouldn't leave me alone."
Starscream huffed. "I'll speak to Elita and Prowl about keeping their soldiers in line. Next time a mech gets the bright idea of harassing you, let one of us know, alright?"
"Okay," Jetfire muttered, still rolling the piece of wood. It was a nice texture, whether it was in his mouth or not.
Starscream stared at him with narrowed optics.
"You ate the wood," he said.
Jetfire slumped. He could deny it, but that would be a lie. He didn't want to lie to his creator.
Starscream sighed. He reached out, arm hovering above Jetfire's shoulders. Jetfire nodded and pulled him into a hug.
"You'll let me know if you feel sick at all. No waiting this time," Starscream said.
Jetfire hummed an affirmative. Starscream gave him a gentle squeeze.
"Does it feel good when you eat something you're not supposed to?" Starscream asked.
"Y-yeah," Jetfire said, closing his optics. "It does. Sort of."
The textures of the things he ate felt good. It distracted him from the pit. Sometimes, it made the pit go away completely.
Was Starscream trying to shame him?
"I've noticed something about it, and I want to make sure I'm correct."
Starscream's words were spoken carefully, as if Jetfire were a scared mechanimal.
"Do you feel bad before you start wanting to?" Starscream asked.
"Most of the time…"
Starscream released Jetfire. Hesitantly, Jetfire ended the hug. Starscream held his arm out before him, the arm guards he always wore fully on display.
"Do you know why I wear these?" Starscream asked.
Jetfire had no idea. He'd never questioned it.
"Because you like them?"
Starscream's lips twitched upward. He shook his head.
"Look closer," he said.
Jetfire did as he requested. Small divots in the guards caught shadows. They were arranged in patterns, but not ones that made sense for aesthetics. They almost looked like—
"Bitemarks," Jetfire said quietly.
"When I get 'stuck,' or close to it, I want to bite things," Starscream said. "I made these so I'd always have something safe to bite."
Jetfire ran his fingers over the bitemarks. All along, his creator dealt with something so similar to him.
"We can work on something like this for you, if you want it."
Starscream was smiling at him. Warmth rose in Jetfire's chest, and he launched himself at his creator for another hug. It was returned, and he let himself sink fully into it.
Whatever troubles awaited them, he and his creator could sort them out together, just like they always had.