Chapter Text
Jetfire woke to a horrible ache in his frame, as he had every day for the past few weeks. Drowsily, he unlatched his cockpit and pulled out a pain patch. He placed it on his neck, lying still until it began to work. When it finally took effect, he rose, wings twitching, as he set off for the day.
He hadn't been doing much of anything, really. The first couple of days after the surges, he was completely wiped out. Most of his time then was spent drifting in and out of recharge as Skywarp held him. After the surges, she was a lot clingier. He didn't mind it. What he minded much more was that she was gone most of the day after he started to recover.
Now, he was able to move around for a couple of days without immediately wanting to lay down. It was time to stop being a useless lump and do something. Jetfire despised being idle, no matter the excuse.
He entered the medbay, mumbling a quiet greeting to First Aid as he approached. First Aid returned the greeting, placing the tool he was polishing on the table. He motioned toward a berth, and Jetfire sat. Jetfire opened his medical panel, and First Aid connected.
"Spark rate's better than yesterday," Aid said. "Fuel line pressure is up. You've been fueling better."
Jetfire nodded. It was difficult to fuel through the pain, but it had faded the past few days—with plenty of help from the pain patches.
"No more processor surges?" Aid asked.
Jetfire nodded. "No more."
First Aid disconnected.
"That's good," he said. "Now, let's move on to range of motion."
Jetfire fought a groan. He knew it was important—his entire frame was altered in at least some small way—but it was a boring and uncomfortable endeavor. Even with the pain patch, moving too much hurt. First Aid already assured him multiple times that it would go away, and that the more he moved, the less it would hurt, but that didn't make it any easier.
First Aid started with his hands, carefully moving his fingers, then his wrists. They were the least difficult parts of his body, the only real modifications being the claws he now had. The elbows were a bit trickier. He still had all of the plating in that region he had before, but it was all changed slightly. The projections on them now pointed upward instead of downward, but the shields that restricted his motion were the same.
Not much changed about his shoulders, but his general figure was slimmer. He lost a significant amount of chest plating, allowing him a wider range of shoulder movement. His cockpit was much larger now, with a much smaller window. It wasn't the kind that could just 'unlatch' anymore—he would have to relearn how to open it. That was for another time.
First Aid reached for his wings. Apprehension swarmed Jetfire's processor, and he grabbed Aid's wrist to stop him.
"Can we save those for last?" Jetfire asked. "Please?"
Aid sighed. "If you really want to. But we still have to do them."
Jetfire released Aid's hand. "I know…"
They moved on to his pedes. His rockets, which used to be on the back of his calves, shifted to the bottom of his pedes. With all of the other changes, it made walking quite difficult, and he had to recalibrate many of his sensors. It was almost like he was created a second time.
Except Starscream wasn't here.
A different kind of pain struck his spark. He tugged at the bracelet on his wrist. Somehow, it survived the reformatting and the surges. Jetfire was grateful. It was the only thing Starscream left him.
His creator would've been irate to see this. When he had the surges, Starscream would've chewed Skyfire and Star out so loudly that the entire ship would've woken up. He would've held Jetfire, and he would've explained everything to him. He probably would have told him about the surges and the pain in the first place.
Jetfire's wings stung as a hand closed around the edges of one. He flicked his wing on instinct to fight the sting. It responded sluggishly. First Aid bent the wing down, testing the hinge, and a jolt of pain went through Jetfire's dorsal strut. He muffled a hiss.
"I know it hurts," First Aid said. "But we have to do it. If you were more willing to do exercises on your own—"
"I know!" Jetfire snapped. He scrunched his optics shut. "I'm sorry."
Jetfire leaned his arms on his thighs. It was the closest he could get to curling up while staying the way he was. First Aid already explained it to him several times, as if he didn't understand it. He understood it perfectly fine. Understanding just wasn't the same as doing.
When the Enigma reformatted him, it changed his internal schematics and triggered a transformation sequence, along with aggravating his self-repair systems. The transformation sequence moved his plating where it could, while self-repair modified the shape and thickness of it. Self-repair also severed and rebuilt his neurocircuits and motors at an accelerated pace, following the instructions that the Enigma fed to it through the modified schematics.
Right now, he had both sets of neurocircuits within him. The old ones sent off pain signals when they fired, having nowhere to connect to and assuming he was damaged because of it. Meanwhile, the new ones were weak, and could only grow stronger with use. Movement triggered the cleanup of the old circuits and the strengthening of the new ones, but it was difficult to withstand the constant sting.
He understood why Skyfire and Star insisted on reformatting the frame they made while it was still sparkless. As Skywarp would put it: this sucked. Were his frame forged instead of constructed, this whole dance with self-repair wouldn't be happening. It would've just taken the schematics and rerouted the existing circuits. But warframes were built with specific bodies in mind, and any deviation from that wasn't considered.
A growl escaped Jetfire's vocalizer as First Aid moved his wing again. Embarrassment flooded Jetfire's processor. He buried his face in his hands, mortified.
"You're fine," Aid said. "It's fine."
First Aid moved to his other wing. Jetfire bit back another growl as he moved it, pain crawling up his dorsal strut. Another movement, and the pain spilled over. Something in the back of Jetfire's processor snapped, and the lashed out, slicing Aid's pauldron with his claws.
Aid stepped back, the resulting wound on full display. Energeon dripped from it. The trickle was slow, but undeniable. Jetfire's claws were coated in it.
He did that. He didn't mean to, but he did it.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry—"
"It's fine," Aid said, barely sparing the wound a glance. "It's not the first time I've been clawed by a patient."
It didn't matter that it had happened to First Aid before, it mattered that Jetfire did it. But Jetfire didn't say that. Aid would only keep trying to dismiss it.
Eventually, Aid finished with the exercises. Jetfire flicked his wings involuntarily, biting back a hiss at the twinge of pain. His wing sensors had just barely been calibrated before this, as they were particularly tricky to handle. This set him back to square one, only there was no Starscream to help him this time.
The door to the medbay swung open.
"Hey, Aid?"
Jetfire recognized the voice. He forced himself to stay still, fighting the temptation to bare his teeth and flare his wings.
"Come in," First Aid said.
The red mech stepped into the room with Sunstreaker behind him. One of Sunstreaker's optics was shattered with a good portion of the glass missing. His undamaged optic caught Jetfire's, and he quickly brought a hand to cover the broken one.
First Aid frowned. "What happened this time?"
His tone was pleasant, but it had an edge. The red mech chuckled nervously.
"Well, we were practicing with the new weapons, and uh…" The red mech paused, glancing back at Sunstreaker. "He ran into a tree."
Into a tree? How? Jetfire forced himself to stay silent. But, really, he would've run straight into it at a very high speed to even have a chance of doing that. Wood wasn't exactly resilient when faced with tons of metal. He knew that from experience. And only his optic?
First Aid led Sunstreaker to a berth. Sunstreaker hesitated before sitting, his working optic catching Jetfire's. He turned toward him. Jetfire's wings flared before he could stop them.
"Sunny…" The red mech complained.
Sunstreaker broke the stare and sat. Immediately, First Aid stepped between him and Jetfire, blocking their vision. It seemed intentional. Were they that obvious?
Jetfire pushed himself off the berth, silencing a grunt as his body protested. An accidental twitch of his wings sent pain up his dorsal strut. After a quick glance at the table next of the berth confirmed his suspicions, Jetfire headed for the tool rack. He plucked the fine forceps from the top of the rack.
What else would Aid need? Jetfire searched the drawers for a glass patch the correct size. Until the new glass grew in, Sunstreaker would need it to protect his optic. Another moment of thought, and he took patch glue from one of the shelves. Silently, he laid the supplies on the table.
Aid glanced at him, a small smile forming on his face. "Thanks, Jetfire."
Jetfire flinched as his wings fluttered. Ow. Did they have to be so sensitive?
Aid reached over for the forceps, and Jetfire stepped away to let him work. He slowly removed the glass from the optic, working around the delicate internals with practiced precision. Something brushed against Jetfire's plating. He whirled toward the source, gnashing his dentae.
The red mech held his hands up in surrender. "Sorry."
Jetfire glanced away, pain and embarrassment coursing through him as his wings lowered. Was a little bit of pain really all it took to turn him into a jerk?
"It's fine," he muttered.
The red mech rubbed the top of his helm nervously. He offered a hand to Jetfire.
"My name's Sideswipe," he said. He motioned toward Sunstreaker. "That's my brother, Sunstreaker."
Brother… that was a human thing, wasn't it? He only saw the term used in the movies he watched.
Sideswipe stared at him, hand still held out. Was he silent for too long? Was he supposed to do something with the hand? What did Sideswipe want?
Slowly, Sideswipe retracted the hand.
"I'm sorry we got off on the wrong pede," he said. "Sunny doesn't take rejection well. He just wanted you to think he was cool."
Jetfire rolled his optics. "He did a great job convincing me."
Sideswipe glanced between Jetfire and Sunstreaker. First Aid was still picking glass from Sunstreaker's optic.
"I know," Sideswipe said.
He looked away again. Jetfire fiddled with his bracelet.
"We're having a movie night," Sideswipe said. He rubbed his helm again. "Maybe you could join us? If you want to, I mean."
Jetfire bared his dentae without meaning to. "No."
Sideswipe stiffened.
"That's fine!" He said "But, uh… I'll send you the information in case you cause your mind!"
Jetfire's comm pinged. He ignored the message. There was no changing his mind, even for movies. He didn't want anything to do with that yellow-plated jerk.
◇◇◇
Jetfire finally moved to the low-intensity pain patches. It took a few days, but he managed it. The exercises were working, and hurt less to do each day. The less they hurt, the easier they were to keep on top of. First Aid was confident he'd be fully recovered in a couple more weeks if he kept this pace up.
He sat at the desk—did anyone but him ever use it?—reading a datapad. It was yet another romance, but at least this one had some draw to it. The two main characters were from warring tribes. They wanted to be together, but their political positions kept them apart. Jetfire was mostly reading it for the political intrigue and battle scenes, but the romance was less contrived than in the other stories he read.
He was midway through a scene detailing the kidnapping of one of the main characters by their enemies when the door slid open. He looked up from the datapad, plating tensing. Fighting a tinge of discomfort, he met the optics of the mech who entered. Skyfire stared back at him, one hand resting against the doorway.
"We're ready," he said.
Jetfire turned off the datapad and left it on the desk. Hopping up from the chair, he followed Skyfire into the hall. They entered Skyfire's lab, then made their way into the backroom.
Star stood tall, watching as they entered. Her cable was plugged into the frame. In her other arm was the Emberstone. Beside her, Pharma crouched. His plating was even duller than the last time Jetfire saw him. As he looked up at Jetfire, his optics were dim. Paint peeled at the edges of his claws, patchy at the extremities.
Overall, he looked like slag. Were they even feeding him? They said First Aid was looking after him. How could Aid possibly let this stand? Jetfire kept his thoughts to himself, knowing they wouldn't do anything but bring him trouble. But the silence did nothing to lessen the disgust that curled in his tanks.
"You," Pharma said, vocalizer barely able to emit words among glitching and static. "It's good to see you."
Jetfire restarted his vocalizer after it refused to make a sound. "Y-you, too."
His spark ached. He had to do something. He just didn't know what.
"Are we ready?" Star said.
Skyfire nodded. Pharma uttered a quiet affirmative. He opened his chestplates, exposing his spark to the Emberstone. The frame's chest opened as Star pushed the command.
"Go ahead," Star said, motioning toward the frame's spark chamber.
The room filled with light. Air crackled around them, the energy flowing through it sending a tingle through Jetfire's plating. Everything went white, and then as suddenly as the light appeared, it was gone.
Jetfire blinked on instinct, then ran a command to reset his optic feed. The room faded into focus. Pharma slumped to the floor, limbs loose like hollow frame. Star stood by the frame, still connected but a few steps further away. Skyfire stood beside Jetfire, lips pressed into a determinedly thin line and optics only on the frame.
A whirr so quiet Jetfire had to turn up the sensitivity of his audials to hear it began. Plating clicked and clanked as the frame shuddered. Then, its visor lit.
{GESTALT PARTNER JSTM connected.}
Jetfire tensed as data flooded in—everything from vitals to a stream-of-consciousness text feed. He closed as much of it as he could before he was overwhelmed by pop-ups. A panicked command killed them all, and he was able to focus on what was in front of him again.
The frame—no, mech—fluttered their wings. Skyfire stepped forward.
"Welcome to the world, Jetstorm," Skyfire said. Jetstorm looked up at him as he continued to speak. "You're an aerial combiner, and an Autobot. Beside me is your partner, Jetfire."
An Autobot. Skyfire wasn't giving him a choice. Again, Jetfire kept his thoughts to himself.
As Jetstorm's attention was drawn to him, Jetfire waved awkwardly. Tilting his helm, Jetstorm mimicked the action.
"You're the numbers in my helm," Jetstorm said.
"Um, y-yes," Jetfire said, fiddling with his bracelet. "I am. I can see yours, too."
Jetstorm smiled. "Cool!"
He leaned sideways and tilted his helm again. His wings tilted with it. He raised a clawed hand and pointed toward something near the floor.
"Who is that?" He asked.
Star and Skyfire exchanged glances. Jetfire pounced on the opportunity.
"That's Pharma," Jetfire said. "He just made you. Your spark came from his."
Jetstorm's wings fluttered again. He took a step toward Pharma. On unsteady limbs, Pharma crawled toward him. Jetstorm bent down to meet his optics.
"Woah," he said quietly.
In a swift motion, Pharma reached up and grabbed Jetstorm's face with both hands. Jetstorm yelped in surprise. He rested his hands on Pharma's gauntlets, making no attempt to remove him. Star and Skyfire glared at Pharma, but the mech was too distracted by Jetstorm to notice.
"Don't forget me," Pharma said. "Please don't forget me."
Jetstorm finally pushed him away. "Why would I forget you?"
Pharma shook his head and closed his optics.
"You're so important," he said. "So, so very important. You'll win battles I'll never get to see. Save lives I never could. They're going to put me away. So don't forget me."
Skyfire pushed past Jetfire. He laid a hand on Pharma's shoulder.
"Pharma—"
Pharma jerked away. He crawled backward, wings flaring.
"No!" He cried. "No! Don't put me back!"
Skyfire stepped forward, reaching around Pharma's waist and lifting him effortlessly. Pharma thrashed and shouted in his grip, but he didn't let go. Skyfire sighed.
"Is this what you want him to remember?" He said.
Pharma went limp, closing his optics. A twinge in Jetfire's spark made him flinch. Skyfire sighed again and opened the door. As he left the room, Pharma didn't struggle.
Jetfire received a ping from a new contact. He opened the message.
[Don't let them take his freedom, too.]
Jetfire quietly sent a reply.
[I'll protect him.]
Jetstorm's brow furrowed, his visor on the closing door. "Why'd he take him away?"
Because he was ignorant, Jetfire wanted to say. He didn't get the chance.
"He's in very delicate condition," Star said. "He can't be outside for long. He volunteered his spark to create yours, but he's been outside for too long now, so Skyfire had to put him back."
Jetfire fiddled with his bracelet and tapped his pede. It wasn't a lie, but it was certainly a softened set of statements. Oversimplified. It made it sound like he had some sort of disease that would slowly kill him outside of a controlled environment, when in reality, the controlled environment was killing him. He wasn't locked away for his own good—he was locked away for others' convenience.
The worst part of it was that Star probably believed herself. She certainly believed Skyfire.
"Oh," Jetstorm said, wings lowering. "Okay. Am I ever going to see him again?"
Star frowned. Baring his dentae, Jetfire glared at her until she finally noticed. He flicked his wings and extended them, letting out a quiet hiss as the still-developing circuits chose that moment to protest.
Star sighed. "You probably won't. He isn't supposed to have visitors unless it's absolutely necessary. Besides, you'll be very busy. You and Jetfire need to practice combining."
Right…
Jetfire wasn't excited, nor was he anxious. He felt nothing at all. The anger that simmered in the back of his processor was already dulling. Another glance at Jetstorm and the situation began to sink in.
He was tied to this mech—permanently. Wherever he went, Jetstorm went. Wherever Jetstorm went, he would have to go. Separating gestalt members was a disaster waiting to happen, and the only way to break the link without severe consequences was death. Even then, remaining members of the gestalt carried the modifications forever, unless they got extensive reformatting done.
Whoever Jetstorm would become, Jetfire was tethered to him until death. Sideswipe called Sunstreaker his brother. Is that what he and Jetstorm would be? Or did such a bond transcend even that?
If Jetfire went home now…
He wouldn't be able to. Not if Jetstorm didn't come with him. Either way, one of them would be trapped in a world they weren't born in.
"Come on."
Jetfire flinched. With a wave of her hand, Star motioned for him to approach. Jetfire shook himself and followed her, walking side by side with Jetstorm. As they walked through the halls, Jetstorm looked around, mouth agape.
Jetfire bit the charm on his bracelet.
Was this a mistake? It sure seemed like one. But he already made his choice. There was no backing out now.
Star opened the door to her quarters. Immediately, Jetfire headed for the desk. Jetstorm followed him, wings high as he sat on the berth and swung his legs. Star stayed in the doorway.
"I need to help Skyfire with some things," she said. "We'll practice combining tomorrow. For now, rest."
Jetfire stared at her. He knew he should respond, but he really just wanted her gone. She sighed and shut the door.
Jetfire pulled out the datapad he was reading and turned it on.
"You feel weird," Jetstorm said.
Jetfire hummed.
Jetstorm leaned forward. "Really weird. All tingly and stuff."
Jetfire shrugged. Maybe it was a byproduct of the processing glitch. He couldn't say.
Jetstorm poked him in the side of the helm.
"Really, really tingly," he said.
Jetfire sighed. His vocalizer decided not to allow him to string together words, so he sent a message.
[Dunno,] he sent. [I'm just me.]
The words on the datapad were meaningless, no matter how many times Jetfire attempted to read them. He forced back a frustrated growl. Why was this suddenly so hard?
The pit crept up on him, and he brought the charm on the bracelet to his mouth. He gnawed on it, focusing on the way it refused to give under his dentae. It slid beneath them, stubbornly refusing to be damaged.
Jetstorm poked him again. "Why're you doing that?"
Jetfire flicked his wings.
[Makes me feel better,] he sent.
Jetstorm tilted his helm, his wings tilting with it. How could he balance like that?
"Do you feel bad?" He asked. "Is that why you're all tingly?"
Jetfire shrugged again. He had absolutely no idea. Why did Jetstorm keep asking?
There was no point in having the datapad on if he wasn't going to read it, so Jetfire turned it off and put it away. The ache in his frame returned tenfold, though checking his chronometer made it clear he wasn't due for another pain patch yet. Had the room gotten brighter?
Jetfire turned off the lights. He made his way between the berths and laid on the floor. He fiddled with his bracelet. What was wrong with him?
"Are you okay?"
Jetstorm's visor invaded his vision. Jetfire closed his optics.
[Please stop asking me questions.]
"Oh," Jetstorm said, leaning back against the wall.
Jetfire wanted to…
He wanted to…
He wanted to curl up and die. Just die. Lay there forever until his fuel ran out and his spark dissipated. But he couldn't do that.
Eventually, the door slid open. Jetfire crunched his optics shut as light flooded the room. Whoever it was stepped through. Another set of pedesteps was behind theirs.
"Jetfire—" Skywarp's voice stopped. "Hey. Who're you?"
Jetstorm fluttered his wings. "I'm Jetstorm! Jetfire's my partner! Seems like you know him."
Skywarp walked between the berths and knelt down. "I do. How's he doing?"
[Slag,] Jetfire sent to her.
Skywarp reached for him. "Are you…?"
Jetfire grabbed her wrist. Gently, he reminded himself. Gently.
[Stuck,] he sent. [Something like it.]
Skywarp hummed. She took his arm in her hands.
"Can I hold you?" She asked.
Jetfire looked away.
[Bit big to hold.]
Skywarp snickered. "I can still try. Whaddaya say?"
Jetfire shrugged. He didn't have the wherewithal to desire anything right now. Skywarp wrapped herself around him. He reciprocated the hold, shoving his face into her cockpit, even if it bent his neck at an awkward angle. He closed his optics.
Skywarp stirred. Jetfire buried himself further.
"You want in?" She asked.
Jetfire opened his optics. Who was she asking?
Jetstorm's wings fluttered. "Can I?"
Skywarp poked Jetfire on the olfactory ridge.
"Can he?" She asked.
Jetfire shrugged as well as he could with Skywarp in his arms. She hummed.
"Come on in!" She said.
Jetstorm walked around him, reaching over him after he got to his back. Jetfire shifted his wings out of the way. Squeezing him tightly, Jetstorm purred his engine.
[I don't know why you're upset, but I hope you feel better,] Jetstorm sent.
[Thanks.]