Chapter Text
"He tried to kill someone."
How many times had he woken up dizzy? His fuel levels were low. The usual alert was nagging him. Everything hurt. Why did everything hurt?
"I know—" Skywarp's voice. "But I know him. This isn't… this isn't him. Something happened."
"He threatened to melt Skyfire's processor out of his helm. That seems quite clear."
Jetfire stirred. His body was sluggish, but responsive.
"But we don't know why! I'm saying we should—"
"Jetfire! Hey!"
Pharma? Why was he…? Jetfire opened his optics. He was surrounded by dirty walls, everything ahead of him shrouded in orange. They put him in a cell.
Across from him, Pharma crawled closer to the field.
"Jetfire! Jetf—"
Prowl turned toward him. "Be quiet!"
Pharma pointed toward Jetfire's cell. Prowl followed it, doorwings twitching. He frowned.
"Oh," he said. He stepped closer to the field. "You're awake. That was quick."
He pulled off the ray gun mounted to his side and charged it. He pointed it at the field and pressed the keypad. The field receded, and Prowl aimed his gun at Jetfire.
"Stay still," Prowl said, stepping into the cell.
Jetfire pressed himself against the wall. Prowl came closer and pressed the barrel of the gun against Jetfire's helm. Jetfire's spark pulsed as his wings began to tremble. Was Prowl going to shoot?
"He's secure," Prowl said. "You can come in now."
First Aid slipped around the edge of the cell. Jetfire hadn't heard him before. Did he just get here, or had he just been silent the whole time? Aid knelt in front of Jetfire and opened his medkit.
As Aid checked Jetfire over, the fuel onside his lines boiled. He should've realized. Aid was the one looking after Pharma, and he'd never attempted to free him. He was yet another facilitator.
Some part of Jetfire wanted to take Aid's helm in his hands and crush it. Prowl would shoot, but would that really be so bad? How painful was death by a shot to the processor, really?
Everyone he loved and cared about had just betrayed and caged him. What did he have left?
Aid pulled away, finished with the checkup. He handed Jetfire a cube of energeon he knew he couldn't drink. Jetfire would've taken it as an insult if it weren't for the sorrowful expression on Aid's face as he backed away.
[I'm sorry.]
The message did nothing. He was still helping them keep him here.
[Frag off,] Jetfire replied.
First Aid left the cell. The gun's muzzle retreated as Prowl stepped away. He backed out of the cell, gun still aimed at Jetfire. He didn't lower it until the field was back in place.
Skywarp stepped toward the cell, but Prowl stuck an arm out, preventing her from getting any closer.
"Please—" she said.
Prowl shook his head. "No. He's dangerous."
Skywarp scowled. "He's not going to hurt me—"
"We don't know that," Prowl said. "He tried to kill someone, Skywarp. We can't take any chances."
Skywarp snarled, wings fanning out. "But you're still going to drag him out and force him onto the battlefield when it suits you."
"We have control of Safeguard," Prowl said. "Not of Jetfire."
Damn fragging right they didn't. He'd get out of here somehow, even if he had to melt the walls to do it. He had to, or they'd make him fight again. It wasn't just Skyfire doing this to him—it was all of the Autobots. That was becoming clearer by the moment.
"I still think—"
"No."
Pedesteps down the hall. The crowd retreated, leaving Jetfire alone with Pharma… and the cube. Jetfire shook it, cringing as the liquid inside sloshed. Just the thought of drinking it—
"Jetfire! Hey!"
Jetfire nearly dropped the cube.
"Pharma," he hissed. "What?"
Pharma was pressed against the wall, as close to the field as he could get without electrocuting himself. His colors were even duller than Jetfire remembered.
"They got you too," Pharma said.
Jetfire huffed. "No slag."
"What did you do?" Pharma asked.
"I tried to kill Skyfire. You heard them."
Pharma banged his hand against the wall.
"No!" He said. "Not what they think you did, what you actually did."
Jetfire sighed. "It was stupid. I thought I could kill him and run away, but…"
He motioned to his surroundings.
Pharma hummed. His wings twitched. He clicked his tongue.
"I know Ratchet died," he said. "I killed him. He was suffering, so I gave him mercy. They didn't give us enough energeon, and nowhere near enough supplies. He wouldn't let anyone suffer, enemy or not, so he gave them his own parts until there were none left."
"So why did you say you saved him?" Jetfire asked.
Pharma clawed at the ground, energeon seeping from his worn down claws.
"I did!" He hissed. "I did. I preserved his helm after his spark went out. All of his memories, all of his data—saved. If we made him a new frame and spark, we could bring him back…"
"But they didn't," Jetfire said.
They must not have believed him. Jetfire could imagine how it looked—Pharma clutching Ratchet's dead helm and rambling. They must've thought he was insane. But the CRI had completed frame-spark transfers before. Doing something similar but with a new spark instead of an old one was definitely possible.
"They didn't!" Pharma hissed. "And now I'll never see him again."
Jetfire looked away and closed his optics. If they had just listened to Pharma, would things have been different? They certainly would've been for Pharma, but maybe not for him.
Quiet drifted over them. The overhead lights buzzed quietly, flickering every once in a while. They joined with the hum of the fields in a surprising harmony. Eventually, the lights dimmed as the base entered its automated night cycle.
Jetfire curled up on the floor. Pharma's optics shone dimly on the other side of the room. With a quiet sigh, Jetfire closed his optics, quickly falling into recharge.
◇◇◇
Pedesteps woke him. He attempted to fall back into recharge, but Pharma's desperate shouts ruined that plan. Jetfire pushed himself up with an irritated groan.
"Pharma, what—"
He froze. Jetstorm stood in front of the field, wings twitching. As their optics met, Jetstorm grimaced.
"We're getting you out," he said.
Jetfire should've been relieved, or grateful, or something. But he didn't feel anything.
"Okay," he said.
What would even happen after they got him out? If they broke him out, the rest of the Autobots would put him back. If they tried to convince the Autobots to free him, they would never agree. Pharma was proof enough of that.
He closed his optics. Whatever happened, it was going to happen no matter what he did.
A few moments later, more pedesteps. Quiet murmurs—Skywarp and Thundercracker. What was Thundercracker doing here? Whatever. He was going back into recharge.
Claws prodded his shoulder. He grumbled.
"C'mon," Jetstorm said.
His voice was too close. Was he in the cell? Jetfire opened his optics just a crack. The field was gone.
Jetstorm poked him again. "You gotta get up."
Sluggishly, Jetfire pushed himself up. His frame sent him a low fuel alert. Right. He never drank that cube. Jetstorm's optics landed on it, and he swiftly reached around Jetfire to grab it. Jetfire gritted his dentae. Now was the moment.
But Jetstorm just tucked the cube into his cockpit and offered him a hand. They stood up together. As they exited the cell, Thundercracker was already at the keypad to Pharma's cell. It beeped, and the field disappeared.
Pharma sprinted through the boundary, barely managing to catch himself on the wall. Thundercracker offered him an arm and he took it, leaning on her for support.
"We need to get going before they see us," Thundercracker said. "Do you two have enough energy to travel?"
Pharma nodded emphatically. Jetfire's wings twitched, tingling anxiety coursing through his plating.
"I think so," he said. "Where are we going?"
"Anywhere that's not here," Skywarp said, turning down the hall. "Where did you say the loose panel was again, TC?"
"Just outside."
They went through the entrance, turning into the next hall. Skywarp kept watch as Thundercracker pried a panel from the wall. Then, one by one, they crawled through. Jetstorm went in last, pulling the panel behind him. It would still be clearly damaged from the outside, but it would be them some time.
Ahead of them, Thundercracker used a crowbar to pry off an external panel. Moonlight flooded the group. She slipped through the newly created hole, and the rest of the group did the same.
Pharma's wings shot up, his helm lifting to the sky. He reached out to the stars, as if to catch them. Jetfire stepped around him. His optics were fuzzy.
"Are you alright?" Jetfire asked.
"I haven't seen the sky in so long," Pharma said. "It's beautiful on this planet."
Thundercracker grunted, catching both of their attention. She flicked a wing and motioned upward.
"We need to fly," she said. "Pharma, Jetstorm is going to take you. Skywarp and I will support Jetfire. When we land, all of us will refuel."
Jetfire wasn't looking forward to it. Some irrational part of his processor insisted that if they never got into the air, they'd never land, so he'd never be forced to refuel, but he ignored it in favor of escape. Jetstorm took off into the sky with Pharma clinging to his back, too weak to support himself at all. Thundercracker and Skywarp took to the sky next, hovering silently as they waited for Jetfire to join them.
Jetfire leaped and pushed power to his rockets. They were strong when he was well-fueled, but no longer as maneuverable as they were pre-reformat. The strength flying through the atmosphere required consumed a lot of fuel—something he was currently in short supply of.
Thundercracker and Skywarp transformed as he approached, and he did the same, sliding between them. They moved closer, supporting him with their wings. The group flew for a while, until eventually Thundercracker sent a comm and they landed in a meadow.
Landing while sandwiched between two other mecha was awkward, but they managed. After everyone transformed back into robot mode, Thundercracker unlatched her cockpit, pulling out a set of energeon cubes. A quick glance confirmed something Jetfire didn't even bother to suspect—Thundercracker, Skywarp, and Jetstorm had stuffed their cockpits full of supplies. This escape was premeditated.
How long had they been considering this? It couldn't have been much longer than a day, since Jetfire was barely locked up for one, yet they were able to execute this so quickly.
Thundercracker held a cube out to Jetfire. The other members of the group already had theirs. Hesitantly, Jetfire took the cube. Just looking at its contents made him want to shudder, phantom sensations of energeon in his mouth. But he had to drink it. Thundercracker said so. If he didn't, they would force him like they did before.
[You gonna drink?]
Jetfire nearly flinched as the message came in, so caught up in his thoughts that nothing else existed. He popped open the cube as he composed a reply.
[Yeah,] he sent to Jetstorm. [Just give me a moment.]
How could he manage this? His hands threatened to shake. There had to be a way.
Then, it came to him—that moment in the medbay. He could refuel with his secondary intake. It was completely unpleasurable, but ever since that experience with Skywarp, refueling had become unpleasant. He would take unpleasurable over unpleasant.
Jetfire opened the lid the rest of the way. He waited a moment, ensuring the others weren't looking his way, then opened his medical panel. The intake there was quite small—just a short, thin tube. Experimentally, he sent an unspooling command to it, nearly flinching when it slid out. He inserted it into the cube and sent the command.
Like before, it felt strange. He wasn't used to his fuel tank filling without the accompanying… sensations. Did mecha like Soundwave really refuel like this? He couldn't even taste anything, not that he expected to.
Heaviness settled in his tank. Despite that, the cube was only half-drained. How did he feel so full already? His fuel levels suggested he wasn't anywhere near at capacity.
"Are you alright?"
Thundercracker stared at him, her wings slightly lower than neutral.
"I'm fine," Jetfire said. "Just… I think I'm done."
Thundercracker's brow furrowed. "Are you sure?"
"Y-yeah," Jetfire said.
Thundercracker turned toward Skywarp. She wore a similar expression to Thundercracker.
"I know you burned a lot of fuel on the way here, even with our help," Thundercracker said. "Can you please drink a little more?"
He really couldn't. Well, objectively, he could, but…
"He can save it for later," Jetstorm said, putting his own emptied cube into his cockpit. "Just let him put it away."
Thundercracker frowned, letting out a hum. "Alright. But I want to see it empty by the end of the day. We can't risk running out of fuel while we're out here."
Jetfire silenced a sigh of relief. His fuel tank was already so irrationally heavy and it made him feel disgusting. He closed the cube up and put it away, opening the plating above his cockpit. It took him a while to figure that one out after he was reformatted—the windows were fully attached to his plating now.
"What are we going to do now?" He asked.
Sure, they were away from the Autobots, but they would be pursued. The Autobots wanted their precious weapon whether or not the weapon wanted to be one. And if they Autobots didn't find them, what was stopping the Decepticons from deciding they wanted a combiner?
Thundercracker looked away.
"We keep moving," she said. "If Starscream did this, we can, too."
Right. Starscream told Jetfire stories of his time alone during the end of the war, but the tales were few and far between. It didn't seem like a time his creator wanted to dwell on, despite his boastful claims when the topic came up. His creator was evasive in the strangest ways—not hesitating to share stories, but cagey about the details.
How well was this really going to go?
◇◇◇
They were running low on energeon. Jetfire knew it. He already activated some of his fuel-saving measures—just the ones he could get away with. They were always in close proximity. No one would notice if his comms were off, right? He could just say he forgot to check them if anyone asked.
It really did save a lot of power.
And if he just happened to have some extra fuel in his cockpit when the others were running low, were they really going to begrudge that? It didn't matter that he was only drinking half of his share and condensing his half-empty cubes while the others recharged. They just saw that he drank his share, and that was all. Did it really matter if the spare fuel was inside or outside of him?
The wouldn't know. It wasn't like they checked his cockpit every day. That would be weird. And now he had an emergency stash in case someone else got low, because he certainly didn't need it. He was just fine.
Besides, he hadn't felt that awful heavy feeling since he started stockpiling.
So, as the group drank their morning fuel, Jetfire took his in the way he always did now. No one had commented on it, though he caught Skywarp staring a few times. It made his plating itch, but as long as she wasn't going to force fuel down his intake again, it was okay. It had to be.
He didn't want to be scared of her. She cared about him, and he cared about her. If he told her that her mere proximity to him while he refueled made his plating crawl and his spark pulse, she'd be upset. He didn't want her upset. Besides, it was only when he refueled. It was fine.
Jetstorm nuzzled Jetfire's shoulder. Ahead of them, Skywarp paused her pacing as Thundercracker landed. Her wings were low, and Jetfire knew it before she said it—she hadn't found any energeon during her trip.
Jetfire's secret stash would be needed sooner rather than later, it seemed. Thundercracker's plating was already starting go dull from the extra flights she was taking to search for fuel. Skywarp's optics were getting dimmer every day. Jetstorm was growing lethargic, no longer exuding the enthusiasm he typically did.
Maybe…
Jetfire nudged Jetstorm's shoulder, offering him his half-filled cube. Blearily, Jetstorm squinted at him. Jetfire pushed the cube toward him, watching Skywarp and Thundercracker through the corner of his vision. They were distracted for now, but they might not be in a moment.
"Here," Jetfire whispered. "Take it. I know you're low."
"Already had mine," Jetstorm muttered. "Whaddabout you?"
Jetfire nudged him with the cube. "I'm fine. You know I don't drink the whole thing anyway."
Jetstorm took it gently, forcing himself to sit up. "You fuel lines're lower 'n mine…"
Right. Jetstorm could see his vitals through the gestalt connection. But since when was he able to actually tell what they meant?
"I'm a shuttle," Jetfire said. "I'm made to work on low fuel."
It wasn't quite the truth, but it wasn't a lie, either. Shuttles were like bears, or other hibernating animals. They could conserve fuel, but they needed to have it in the first place. Jetfire hadn't loaded himself before this period of near-starvation—far from it—but that wouldn't keep him from using similar tactics.
Cybertronians, in general, required frequent refueling—at least one cube a day, which translated to a full fuel tank, hence why it was the standard ration. It was better to have two or more, since that ensured all systems were at full capacity, but they could survive on just one. This translated interestingly to modified fuel processing systems, with many medics still trying to figure out equivalents. The smaller the frame, the less fuel generally required, barring exceptions like Starscream.
Earth creatures had many different fueling requirements. It was part of what made them so fascinating. There were tiny mice who required constant availability of food, and animals like snakes who only needed to eat every few days at most. If Jetfire was a snake, he wouldn't be having any issues right now. It was a shame he wasn't.
Jetstorm hummed and took the cube.
"Still dun like it," he muttered, lifting the cube to his lips.
Jetfire looked away, the sound of Jetstorm gulping down the liquid grating against his audials. Despite his attempts to work around it, his aversion to energeon only grew worse with each meal. He had to avoid looking at it when he refueled, or he might just throw the cube on impulse and waste the whole thing.
Refueling through his primary intake was terrifying. Refueling through his secondary intakes was both boring and disgusting. There was no winning.
Jetstorm handed Jetfire back the empty cube, which Jetfire quickly shoved into his cockpit. Then, he leaned against Jetfire, nuzzling his shoulder as he purred. He was doing that a lot, lately. Apparently, a lethargic, fuel-deprived Jetstorm was a cuddly Jetstorm. It would've been nice, if not for the circumstances. Hopefully, the extra bit of fuel would perk him up when he started processing it.
Pharma was completely out. The ex-medic spent most of his time recharging, and the rest wandering around nearby. He would come back hours later, covered and dirt and plant scraps, and just lay on the ground. Purple pedes stepped over him, and Jetfire looked up at Skywarp as she approached.
"Can you come with me?" She asked.
Jetfire glanced at now-recharging but still purring Jetstorm. "Um…"
Gently, he extracted himself from Jetstorm. His partner stopped purring, optics opening just a little. Jetfire laid him on the ground.
"I'll be back," Jetfire said.
Jetfire's spark began to pulse in his chest as he and Skywarp left the others, and he had to contend with the fact that it wasn't just refueling around Skywarp that made him anxious. That just made him feel worse. Skywarp cared about him. She was the only mech from his home that was still there for him.
She stopped once the others were out of view. Wings drooping, she turned back toward Jetfire.
"I'm sorry," she said.
Jetfire's mind went blank.
"Sorry for what?" He asked.
Skywarp closed her optics and sighed.
"Why do you refuel with your secondary intake?" She asked. "I want to hear it out loud."
How did he say it? Jetfire rubbed his wrist, instinctively searching for the bracelet that was left behind when they fled the Autobots. He would never have it again. For all he knew, it was melted in his attempt to kill Skyfire.
The ugly thing in his spark squirmed, but this time it was different. It didn't howl and screech to be let out, clawing at the edges of its chamber. Rather, it pressed itself against the walls, as if hoping it would be swallowed by them.
"It feels better that way," Jetfire said.
Skywarp's wings flicked. "Better how? You didn't used to refuel like that."
"It just does."
Skywarp frowned. She took a step closer.
"That's not an answer," she said. "Why did you change how you refuel?"
The thing inside him panicked, the very walls it thought meant safety entrapping it.
"I don't want to talk about this," Jetfire said.
"Just answer me—"
Jetfire flicked his wings harshly, stomping a pede as the thing gnashed its teeth.
"Stop it!" He hissed. "That wasn't an invitation to keep asking, it was a request to stop! I don't want to talk about this, so fragging drop it."
Skywarp backed away, wings widening. She stared at him.
"It's because of me," she said. Her voice rose. "Just tell me it's because of me!"
Jetfire's claws flexed, craving something, anything to tear into. He and the creature were one. He bared his teeth.
"Yes!" He spat. "Sure! Whatever! You're right. It was you. You hurt me and made me scared. Is that what you want to hear?"
Skywarp's optics grew fuzzy. Her plating tensed and untensed. She squeezed her optics shut.
"Yes," she said, voice cracking. "It is. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Jetfire."
She took a step closer. Jetfire backed away, wings fanning wide without his permission. She sighed.
"I'm terrified you're going to leave me," Skywarp said. "Like Starscream. Like our world's Thundercracker. I keep thinking that if I just hold on tighter, you won't slip out of my grip. If I take your hand in mine and don't let go, you can't leave. But all it's done is hurt everyone I love. I don't want to keep doing it. I'm sorry."
Jetfire forced his plating to relax. Somewhere deep down, he knew. She didn't want to hurt him, but she just kept doing it. But, maybe, since she realized, she could stop.
"It's okay," Jetfire said. "I know you didn't want to hurt me, but it still hurt. We can… we can figure it out. Just please listen to me when I say something."
She stepped closer. This time, Jetfire didn't step back. He waited as she approached, offering his arms. She fell into them, burying her face in his chest. He rested his chin on her helm.
He was too big to be hugged, but he was big enough to wrap himself around those he loved. It wasn't all bad. They were just two hurt and scared animals, doing their best despite the circumstances.
"I'll listen," she said. "I promise I'll listen."
Jetfire purred his engine, the rumble soothing both himself and Skywarp. She purred back.
They were scared and starving, but they had each other. Maybe it would be okay. Maybe it wouldn't. But there was one less front to fight on.
◇◇◇
Jetfire woke to a quiet rustle. He cracked open his optics. A small paw sat in front of his face. It reminded him of Ravage, but it was gray rather than black. He pushed himself slightly away from Skywarp and Jetstorm together a better view.
Yellow optics stared down at him. Definitely not Ravage—Ravage had a visor.
"Hello," the cybercat said. "I'm Glit. My partner and I have been tracking you for quite some time."