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[The Nemesis, Luna 1’s orbit. Pre current day by 235 years, War time. Decepticon Commander’s Suite.]
His audials had to be glitching, there was no other logical explanation for the words he’d just heard come out of Megatron’s mouth.
“What?”
Megatron, mightiest war-build to ever be onlined, sighed, like he was tired. Megatron was never tired.
Where was this coming from? What happened?
“It’s over, I don’t know any more different ways to phrase the same words Starscream. I’ve ordered a cease fire and I’m going to start…talking with Optimus. He’s been very amenable so far…it’s far more than I deserve I think.”
Starscream gawked, torn between outrage and suspicion that his lord’s processor had been tampered with. There was simply no reason for this!
Megatron frowned, and it was…soft, the creases of his brow not his usual scowl but something dangerously close to concern. He made to step closer, but Starscream stepped back.
He didn’t move further.
“I…I spend a few days in the medbay and suddenly-! Suddenly you decide to just, just, GIVE UP?!”
He wanted Megatron to get angry. To yell.
To do anything other than this.
But he just stood there looking sad and lost, like when he’d first been pulled from the clutches of his masters and had no idea what free thought would feel like, or how to make choices on his own. Where had Starscream’s mighty warlord gone? His savior?
….His Conjunx?
“A few days? Starscream you almost died. Haven’t we done enough? Our oppressors are dead. We killed them. Those mecha down there? They don’t want to fight anymore, our mecha don’t even want to fight anymore. We’ve already gone too far…we don’t need to go further, we shouldn’t. Can’t you see that? Can't you see what we've become?”
You always knew this day would come, he was bound to break every promise he’d ever made.
Why are you s u r p r i s e d?
Starscream turned his back on Megatron, the one mech he’d foolishly hoped he would never have to. He’d stupidly allowed himself attachment again and once more proved what an utter idiot he could be, and how unreliable others were.
“Starscream-“
“All I see, Lord Megatron? Is another betrayal…”
He walked out the door, a new and yet familiar darkness settling in his periphery like an old friend, like it had always been there. He ignored it, along with the ache settling heavy and cold in his spark where something once warm and wonderful withered under his hatred.
[Cybertron. Pre current day by 200 years. Rung’s Office, evening.]
“You mentioned that you hear voices to some of your previous physicians. Do the things they say make sense or is it more like white noise?”
Starscream resolutely attempted to ignore the illusion currently draping its oily visage all over the small orange psychiatrist who had been the only one willing to see him; much to his chagrin.
“Voice. One voice.”
The bot’s optics flicked slightly in understanding. He’d said he’d had experience with individuals who heard voices…
“And is it the voice of someone you know?”
Starscream dug his claws into his thigh armor, almost denting, until a large white palm rested over them. His crimson optics flicked up momentarily to catch the small reassuring smile Skyfire was giving him. He cycled his vents once. Twice.
“My voice. It’s my voice.”
The sense of knowing that filled the small mech’s field was somehow calming. But Starscream would rather give full credit to the large warm frame currently glued to his side and pulsing love and acceptance at him in steady waves. Skyfire had always had that effect on him. Calm. He used to find it agitating; but these days he can’t fathom why.
“And what does the voice tell you?”
Finally he turned his head to lock optics with the cruel mockery of a replica who’d moved to the darkened corner of the room. Neither the framing of the setting sun nor the gold emblazoned upon the greyed husk wearing his face could make the monstrosity even remotely less haunting. It glared at him, daring, waiting; paled yellow optics in thin slits, like glowing blades in the shadows.
Starscream set his jaw and hardened his stare.
“ Lies.”
[Cybertron. Pre current day by 10 years. Science Academy construction site, finished side wing, Headmaster’s temp. office, midday.]
Starscream sighed in agitation for the fifth time that hour because Skyfire was right and he hated it. And he hated that Thundercracker and Skywarp were also right. Skywarp! Skywarp and right didn't belong in the same room, let alone the same sentence. But even his reckless, trouble making trine mate was painfully, unequivocally right.
He missed Megatron; missed him so much he avoided him out of nervousness.
It was embarrassing.
So much had happened in what felt like so little time, so much had changed, and yet the years in which they'd fit together so perfectly were so very, very far away. He didn't know what to do. Just, what? Call him up? Make small talk?! Because that would go well, yes Starscream, call up your ex-conjunx who ended a war for you and in response you'd literally smothered him out of your spark, and just say 'how's it going'.
Idiots.
But they were right, unfortunately, in several senses; nothing would change if he didn't make a step toward fixing things. Fixing was...maybe too hopeful. Just opening up conversation again would be good, conversation that wasn't horribly stilted, awkward, and short.
Megatron was worried, they were right about that too. He didn't need to be privy to the old slag maker's spark to know that; or to work in the same office as him, Thundercracker, the lucky fragger. He could read it in his writing at this point, could hear it in the words he chose during those short awkward conversations because Megatron never let it show in his tone.
None of that helped though; he still didn't know where to start. There was too much to say, too much to unpack, and he just couldn't figure out where to start. Honesty? Tell Megatron he's sorry? That he misses him? There was no way Megatron would believe that! And if he had truly become that foolish then Starscream was going to insist that his processor was finally degrading from spending too much time around Optimus.
And sitting here fretting pointlessly wasn't going to help him come to any conclusions, and it certainly wasn't going to help him get his work done.
....
Somewhere in the building something exploded and Starscream just stared at the far wall, the most resigned of grimaces settling onto his face.
About a second later his comm beeped and he answered without even looking at the identification number.
Wheeljack's smooth, but currently timid drawl came through with only mild static, "I promise I can fix it."
Starscream was never going to make fun of Megatron's scowl lines ever again.
...Okay, maybe just a little; for old times sake.
[Cybertron. Pre current day by 1 year. Iacon Capital Building, annual celebration of lasting peace.]
It was odd, sitting there with him. He could almost imagine there wasn't millions of years of war and toxic behavior between them.
Almost.