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Jetfire stood atop the jagged and destroyed building, watching Metroplex fall in the distance. He scanned his frequencies, watching for Soundwave’s message, hopefully reaching out to tell him it was safe to return. There was no response yet, and his spark sank as the minutes passed.
In his hands, a small but precious spark glowed in obliviousness.
Or at least Jetfire thought Starscream was oblivious. He’s not in pain anymore, buzzing and seething within Metroplex’s core, thank the Unmaker. In Jetfire’s mind, the spark just existed happily, a pleasantly swirling mass of energy, slightly warm in his hands like a tiny organic bird. Starscream was sleeping, maybe, and not aware of the dire situation they were now in.
It’s not good. The Autobots know Starscream’s spark can operate Metroplex.
The Decepticons know Starscream’s spark can operate Metroplex.
Both sides will stop at nothing to drag Starscream back into the fight and use him as a tool for their own ends.
So. Jetfire has to get Starscream to safety. But where could they go that was safe?
He slightly opened his palms to see the spark. Upon being exposed, it glowed brighter as if excited to see him and his bewildered face.
Surely… it was just a natural response to stimuli? The spark sensed brighter light and therefore glowed brighter. There’s nothing more to it than that.
But that’s a lie, and he knows it. His shoulders sagged slightly as he smiled in response to the little gleam of light pulsing and bobbing in the cradle of his hands. He wasn’t sure why he was trying to diminish the spark as Starscream because he could feel it. He could feel the seeker’s warm presence in the fluttering little thing, almost as if he were right beside him and where Jetfire could hold him.
Perhaps he sought to keep his distance because he wasn’t sure Starscream could be revived completely. A spark was a Cybertronian’s soul, but his mind, memories, and personality were housed elsewhere in a frame that had weathered a lot of damage. Without the spark to keep those components alive, it was improbable that Starscream would be precisely the same once rejoined with his body.
Starscream might never be the Starscream he had fallen for. His soul might be the same, but everything else would be different- and maybe it was best he cut his losses and start to think about this spark as a thing and not a him.
Still, usually, a spark leaving the frame was death. Permanent, scary, awful death. But Starscream, ever a fan of the dramatic gestures, was not so common as to allow a little bit of disembodiment to stop him.
So… maybe they could beat the odds one more time.
Jetfire opened one of his chest compartments to gently lay his dear cargo where it would be protected as he figured out his next steps.
He glanced around, seeing the volcanos erupting behind him. But Jetfire’s wings were still damaged and broken at the hands of the Autobots trying to use him to get Starscream and Metroplex to comply with their demands. Escaping an eruption could prove difficult.
Perhaps the forests in the wilds? Maybe the canyons on the outskirts of the Rust Sea?
He slowly closed his chest and kept his hand there, still feeling the warmth of the spark thrum against his plating. Now close to his own spark, Jetfire felt the tiny bursts of… contentment from Starscream. He was positively beaming with optimism and joy.
All because he was reunited with Jetfire.
The warmth and joy were almost addictive.
Jetfire scowled, knowing he shouldn’t bask in the feeling. He hasn’t earned this path to redemption and doesn’t trust the adoration radiating from him. Starscream’s spark couldn’t fully understand the circumstances- he didn’t remember how Jetfire had tortured him in his last moments. He didn’t remember how Jetfire’s actions led to Skywarp’s death or how Jetfire had helped Goldbug kill Starscream and use his spark to control Metroplex. If he remembered all that, the little spark would be significantly colder.
If Starscream didn’t remember, it was good- he didn’t have to suffer. But Jetfire couldn’t forget what he had done and therefore would remember for both of them.
A little flare of irritation burst from his companion’s spark, but it must have been because he was frustrated with his new accommodations. “I apologize for your austere lodgings. I’ll get you back to your frame as soon as possible,” he said with a smirk.
There was a replying buzz, and if Jetfire replayed it back, it might have sounded like a huff.
Jetfire turned and started walking away from all the fighting. He muted his comms and set off to find a way to repair himself and, if he was lucky, a place to hide from everyone.
He appreciated what Soundwave had done to reunite them, but he couldn’t trust anyone, whether they were Autobots or Decepticons.
The way was rough and rocky. He didn’t want to take any easy path that one of the common grounder Autobots might have decided to follow him on. As a result, his pedes designed for stabilizing his weight while landing ached and eventually screamed at him for rest.
Still, he pressed forward, not looking back. He was the only one who could save Starscream and owed it to the seeker to do it right this time.
The little spark nestled inside him flared in panic. Jetfire reached up to hold his chest in confusion.
“You’re a little far from your friends,” a silky voice said. “That’s a pity.”
Jetfire froze and then slightly turned to see the red plating of Drift standing with his blades drawn. “I don’t have friends. Just aligned acquaintances.”
“That’s an even bigger pity. For you anyway.” Drift licked his bottom lip, grinning wider. “Where’s the spark, Jet?”
Jetfire didn’t move, staring down his nose at the mech in disdain. “Generally located in someone’s chest, but I knew someone who had theirs moved to their pede. They were kind of weird, but it was fascinating-“
Drift angrily stepped forward, falling into a fighting stance. “Enough games! Hand over Starscream’s spark, or I will slice your wings off your frame!”
“You are welcome to try,” Jetfire growled. “But none of you will take his spark from me. Not again.”
Drift lunged forward with his swords drawn. He clashed with Jetfire in a flurry of metal and sparks flying off from Jetfire’s frame where the blades hit, but he couldn’t penetrate Jetfire’s armor. Drift attempted a different angle, jumping acrobatically to come down on Jetfire from above. Jetfire braced against attack with his forearm, letting the swords dig into his thick metal armor. He pulled out a blaster with his other hand, attempting to shoot Drift in the tanks.
He fired, and Drift only just managed to twist out of the way. Drift’s optics widened as he must have realized Jetfire was not some pushover.
Drift tried to attack again, but Jetfire blocked the strike with a swift movement of his own sword he pulled from subspace in his wrist. He swung back with a powerful blow that sent Drift stumbling backward. Drift quickly recovered and charged forward again, determined to claim his prize.
Something in Drift’s demeanor changed as his optics narrowed. He leaped forward with a lightning-fast strike aimed directly at Jetfire’s chest. Jetfire lost his balance and fell backward, crying out with despair as Drift began slashing at his chest, right where Starscream’s spark was hidden. Panic surged in his throat as he tried to throw Drift off of him, but nothing was working.
Drift pressed on, a manic glint in his optics, and he launched a series of quick jabs at Jetfire’s chest. His plating began to buckle and Jetfire realized Drift was seconds from getting Starscream’s spark.
With a bellow, Jetfire used his thrusters to burst forward off the ground and twist, using his bulk to try and pin the smaller mech down.
Jetfire grabbed Drift before he could get out of the way, wrapping his hand tightly around his throat. Drift’s optics widened when he pulled Drift close to him.
“How did you follow me?” Jetfire growled.
Drift clenched his jaw, clearly not about to divulge that information. But Jetfire squeezed harder, cutting off his vents. Drift’s optics bulged as Jetfire lifted him off the ground, and his legs began to kick the open air.
“We didn’t know each other well when I worked for Goldbug. All your Autobots and your petty squabbling got you nowhere but a divided faction full of infighting and power grabs. But surely you must have heard by now my dedication to Starscream.
“And if you haven’t, allow me to demonstrate.”
He slammed Drift into the ground, letting his helm give a sickening crack against the rock. Drift’s optics fluttered, but he stubbornly stayed online, baring his fanged denta. “I’m not… impressed,” he said defiantly.
Jetfire smiled nastily. “I’m not done.”
He lifted Drift’s neck and helm off the ground and repeatedly slammed his helm into the ground with brutal force. It did not take long for Drift’s optics to fade offline.
Jetfire hoped he could still hear him, though, and pulled him close to whisper into his audial.
“Drift, if you survive, tell everyone this: Starscream is mine, and I will not let you have him. I will not let you use him as a tool in your petty war, and if you try- if any of you come for him, you will wish I had killed you. You will wish Starscream was here to stop my hand, but because he is not, I will stop at nothing to destroy you.”
He cast Drift’s limp frame to the ground in disgust and gently checked his chest compartment. He could feel Starscream’s spark there, faintly thrumming in what might have been disappointment.
Jetfire grimaced and stalked off in the direction he had originally intended. “I don’t have the luxury of mercy, Star. Not if I’m going to keep you safe.”
He wandered for a while, not having any direction in the wastes. Harsh conditions did wonders to his already exposed wounds, stinging with each whip of wind. It kept him awake, though.
He couldn’t stop.
Jetfire came across an old bunker, rust-ridden and crumbling in some places, but it looked like it afforded some shelter from the elements and from prying optics that might be looking for him. He thought it might only be a matter of time before another Autobot caught up to him, but he needed to patch himself up. He needed to fly.
He slipped inside, immediately thanking Primus for the coolness of the air, the chill settling into his plating. He shivered slightly, taking in the dim area, and finding functioning power allowed some lights to turn on in his presence. He saw the place had been recently occupied, which made him frown. Hopefully, the former occupant would not be returning soon.
He leaned against a wall and slid to the ground, grunting from the ache in his wings, pedes, and joints. He wasn’t as spry as he used to be; the Autobots had used him as a scientist and a hauler. He had been worn down after so many years of punishing mistreatment and barely had an acquaintance there he could consider friendly. Jetfire had been on his own for a while.
So when Goldbug had personally sought him out, he had relished the opportunity to prove his effectiveness.
“I’m surprised no one has brought you onto their team,” Goldbug had said. “You are clearly a valuable asset.”
That had been about the nicest thing Goldbug had ever said to him, and it was only downhill from there.
“I can wield a blaster, but I’m more comfortable back here,” Jetfire had replied. “The lab is where I fight my battles.”
Goldbug’s face was covered, but his optics glinted in the low light. “Fight them for me then, and I will give you what you desire.”
And in the end, Goldbug had given him what he wanted, he thought bitterly. He had desperately wanted Starscream by his side, and now… he had him.
“I’m not going to apologize,” Jetfire said sleepily. “Not until I can tell it to your face.”
He might have imagined it, but there was a faint pulse from the spark in his chest of affection. He was lulled and comforted by it as he slipped into recharge.
“I thought I might find you here.”
Jetfire was online instantly, pulling out his blasters and aiming for the bot that had just spoken.
Starscream’s spark spun faster in joy. That didn’t make Jetfire lower his weapon, though.
“Back up, Megatron,” Jetfire snarled. “I’m not above shooting you.”
Megatron slowly held his hands up, trying to appease him. “I mean you no harm, Jetfire. In fact, I can help you with that wing if you want-“
“Don’t touch me,” Jetfire growled. “And back up.”
Likely hearing the note of sincerity in his voice, Megatron wisely stepped back until he was on the other side of the open room, his back hitting the wall. He stayed like that, and his blue optics blinked in the dim lighting.
Jetfire sneered. “You can’t have him. I’m not giving him to you.”
Megatron’s shoulders relaxed slightly in relief. “Then you do have him. Good. Good, I’m glad-“
“DON’T. Don’t start,” Jetfire barked, surprising himself with the force of his words. “You want to take him back and put him back inside that titan so that you can win the war. And I’m sure you have a great speech planned about it to try and convince me-”
“Ah, no,” Megatron said, giving a half-smirk. “Starscream would have had to have written it to be great. All of my speeches were pretty bad in comparison.”
Jetfire’s mouth twitched into a sneer. “Don’t try to be friendly, either. I know you hate me as much as I hate you.”
Starscream’s spark seemed to shrink slightly, and Jetfire couldn’t help it- he reached his hand up to hold the area as if trying to comfort the little gleam of light.
Megatron saw the gesture, and his optics glazed over with understanding. “I’m glad you are keeping him close. What is your plan? How can I help?”
“It’s no concern of yours,” Jetfire said. “I’m going to keep him safe from everyone, including you. So I won’t be telling you anything.”
That seemed to rankle Megatron a little. “I’m not the one who tortured him and let my boss kill him.”
Jetfire stilled, cold rage turning the energon in his lines to ice. “No, but you did convince him to join your war. If he hadn’t, he would never have been targeted to die in the first place. You didn’t keep your vow to him to keep him safe. You’re supposed to be his commander- you were supposed to protect him!”
Megatron sighed. “Jetfire, we’re getting off track. We could play the blame game all day and night, and it still wouldn’t bring Starscream back. So. What is your plan?”
“My plan,” Jetfire said darkly, “is to get us to safety and then research how to bring him back.”
Megatron nodded. “Well, you might need his frame to do that, don’t you think?”
Jetfire growled, finally lowering his weapon. “I thought it wasn’t viable anymore. It is likely gray and ruined.”
“Ah, no,” Megatron replied again, slowly lowering his arms. “No, we took the greatest care to put him in cryogenic stasis so that he could revive. His frame is still vibrant and full of color.”
Jetfire’s optics rose in surprise. “You have the resources to do that?”
“I made us find the resources,” Megatron replied. “If you can trust me, I can take you to him.”
Jetfire was surprised, but then again, maybe he wasn’t. It would make sense that Megatron could lure Jetfire back to him with Starscream’s frame and then take his spark at the last second and use it for Metroplex. It was probably a trap.
“Jetfire,” Megatron began softly. “You can’t keep him in your chest forever.”
Jetfire bristled again, bracing himself against the wall to bring himself up to his pedes. “I will if it will keep him away from you.”
Megatron hung his helm, sighing. “I don’t know how to tell you I am not your enemy. I don’t know what will convince you other than it is not good for Starscream’s spark to be separated from his body for so long. Time is running out.”
“I can’t believe a single word you tell me,” Jetfire replied. “You would lie to manipulate me.”
“You are confusing me with the Autobots,” Megatron said gently. “I’m sure Starscream’s spark tells you the same thing.”
In truth, Jetfire had been ignoring the little thing, flaring in offense and irritation at most of this conversation. His own spark was aching in an attempt to sync up with Starscream’s tumultuous emotions. He winced when Starscream gave him a particularly harsh huff of indignation.
Jetfire was suddenly very, very tired. He ached, he hurt, and he was so exhausted. He hadn’t recharged well at all since Starscream had died in his arms.
Megatron softened. “Jetfire… you aren’t alone in this. I want to see Starscream safe and away from all this too. If you let me help you, I won’t let you down. I won’t let either of you down.”
There was something to his words this time, something kind and gentle that managed to worm under Jetfire’s plating. He usually would have ignored Megatron’s platitudes, but he wanted to trust him.
Then the entire bunker shook with the landing of aerial mechs up above.
“I knew it!” Jetfire said. “What, you called the rest of the seekers here to force me to hand over Starscream’s spark?”
Megatron looked down from the low ceiling of the bunker and met Jetfire’s optics. “The pitch of the engines is too low to be seekers. Those are Aerialbots.”
Fear seized Jetfire’s spark. He had spent so much time arguing with Megatron that he hadn’t managed to repair himself, and his strut-deep exhaustion still made him thin and wan.
“I- I don’t know if I can do this,” Jetfire mumbled, running a hand down his face.
Megatron gave a tight smile. “Then let me handle it. And in return, consider coming back to my base where Starscream’s frame is being kept safe. And consider… letting us help.”
Jetfire didn’t trust it, but he also had no choice. With a tight nod, he leaned back against the wall and drew his weapon again.
Megatron smiled softly and turned to go up the steps, taking one last look around. He pointed over to the back room. “There’s a patch kit over there. It’s fully stocked, so make use of it. I’ll buy us some time.”
“What- what are you going to do?” Jetfire asked, curious.
Megatron looked over his shoulder at Jetfire. “Something dramatic.”
Jetfire didn’t quite manage to stop his smile in time. As Megatron ascended the stairs, Jetfire made his way over to the medical kit and quickly began to triage his battered frame as best he could.
An emergency shot of med grade greeted him, and he could have kissed the floor Megatron walked on. He quickly gulped it down, feeling it warm his sluggish systems and kick-start his nanite repair into overdrive. He found patches and moldable armor that could temporarily be the tip of his wing with just a few minutes of curing under the handheld UV light also in the kit. It wouldn’t survive under heavy fire but could get him airborne.
He worked quickly, hearing shouting and a fusion canon over his helm. The bunker shook with the impacts happening above, and he felt Starscream shiver in his chest.
“He’s going to be fine,” he said to Starscream as much to himself. “Megatron knows what he’s doing.”
Jetfire was surprised to find he believed the words.
Wing repaired, he slathered a thick paste of quick-apply nanite gel to his frame, filling in all the cracks and dents quickly until he could get fully detailed by a medic later. He stunk of epoxy resin and solvent, making his olfactory sensor burn, but he was repaired enough to make a run for it. A pain patch later, he felt like he could do this.
He snuck up the stairs, seeing Megatron throwing Silverbolt at Slingshot, their frames crashing together and knocking each other out. “I didn’t save any for you,” Megatron said, smirking. “Apologies.”
Jetfire smirked back. “I’m repaired enough to get airborne.”
“Then what are you waiting for? An invitation?”
Jetfire rolled his optics and jumped into the air, spinning into a transformation. Megatron was right behind him, launching his thrusters to guide Jetfire to the base.
They traveled in relative silence, with Megatron just giving Jetfire occasional course corrections but never fully explaining where their destination was, ostensibly for any of those prying over the airwaves. As a result, Jetifre’s mind drifted, and his mood began to plummet.
It was too soon.
He thought he had months, maybe years, before he would be reunited with Starscream. He couldn’t wait for it, but he didn’t know it would be this… simple. He thought he still had time to accept what he did. How he had tortured Starscream and hit him and betrayed him-
What would Starscream say to him after everything? One small punch to Goldbug wasn’t enough to fix everything that had happened between them.
He yearned to hear Starscream’s voice again, but at the same time, Starscream’s words always had the power to shake him. They would cut him through to his very core, lay him bare and vulnerable, and, depending on what Starscream had to say, possibly destroy him.
So, he yearned, but he also dreaded. It was a strange sense of excitement and foreboding.
At least as a spark, Starscream didn’t have words.
As it was, the spark was silent in emotion as they flew. Either Starscream in this state knew he was about to be revived, or he was slipping into nothingness, finally about to snuff out like he would if he were a normal spark. Either way, it made Jetfire lonely and worried.
They arrived at the new, hobbled-together base. It was more of a camp as more Decepticons headed Soundwave’s messages, coming to aid their now-returned leader. There was quite a swell of traffic around the tents as mechs arrived and were inducted back into a formal army.
If Jetfire were a Decepticon, he might be happy at the sight. Instead, he just thought about how the war was escalating again, and here he was, dragging Starscream into the thick of it again.
Megatron landed first, and then Jetfire transformed, greeting the icy stares of gathered Decepticons with a glare of his own.
“At ease, mechs,” Megatron called. “Jetfire is a friend.”
Jetfire chose not to correct him. Instead, he ducked under the flap of the main tent and was immediately greeted by Soundwave.
“You made it!” he cried happily. “I was worried you wouldn’t.”
Despite being surprised at the happy greeting, part of him softened. Soundwave had done so much for him in reuniting him with Starscream; it was also hard to be angry at him. “I’m only here thanks to your help.”
Soundwave’s visor lit up. “I’d do it again. Anything- for the both of you.”
Jetfire didn’t doubt it. “Where should I… go?”
Megatron appeared behind him. “Through there,” he said, pointing to a dark room off the main area. “The Constructicons are there with him. They’ll be waiting for you.”
There were no more delays. Jetfire took a deep vent and started walking over before Megatron gently touched his shoulder. “He’ll be happy it’s you waking him up.”
“I’m… not as sure,” Jetfire replied. He cast his gaze back to the room. “But I want it to be me.”
“Bring him back to us,” Soundwave said. “I know he’s looking for you, too.”
Jetfire didn’t want to risk losing his nerve, so he lengthened his stride and walked into the other room-
-And nearly lost himself.
There was Starscream’s frame, laying in a cryogenic pod. He looked so small and cold; Jetfire could see the damage still on his frame from his efforts and Goldbug ripping out his spark through the fogged and frozen glass.
“We’ve tried to repair him slowly,” said Hook, appearing next to the pod. “We just didn’t want to risk triggering the graying process, so we had to do it sparingly.”
It was true- Starscream’s colors remained on his frame, however muted they might be. He looked weak and maybe sick but didn’t look… dead. The spark in his chest was practically jumping for joy, buzzing and spinning up a frenzy.
“Is he ready?”
Hook looked at the pod and sighed. “I feel compelled to tell you that this might not work. He might not integrate, and he might not wake up. There is still a lot that could go wrong.”
Jetfire stared at Starscream’s relaxed face, silent and cold. “A lot has already gone wrong. I don’t want to be the reason he didn’t have a chance.”
He slowly opened his chest to reveal the little spark bouncing and fluttering. He reached in, feeling the warmth against his hand, and then with a heavy sigh, handed Starscream to Hook.
The process was quick, and Jetfire barely had time to prepare before Starscream’s spark was carefully placed back into his frame, and the reintegration began again.
He watched as Starscream warmed, his colors vibrantly flaring back to life on his plating, and… it was suddenly too much.
Jetfire turned to leave, not able to face him after all. He couldn’t do this- he couldn’t face what he had done to Starscream and how-
“…Jetfire?”
There was a twinge in Jetfire’s chest. It felt like a pull or an emptiness where Starscream’s spark had once rested, and now he was so overcome with emotion he grimaced. He turned, looking at the ground as he could not meet Starscream’s optics.
“I missed that face,” Starscream said warmly with a sardonic lilt to his voice.
Jetfire raised his gaze slowly and saw Starscream propping himself up from the pod with a knowing look and a light smile. He looked good for being effectually dead not too long ago.
Starscream always looked good, though.
“Yet again, you don’t follow any script,” Jetfire said softly. “Not even being divested from your frame could stop you.”
“I had help getting back,” Starscream said, trying to sit up more but wincing when it was difficult. Hook fluttered to his side, taking readings on him and checking for more damage. “Thank you.”
“No,” Jetfire said sadly. “No, you don’t- you shouldn’t thank me. You should hate me.”
Starscream sighed and looked to Hook and the other Constructicons. “Give us a moment.”
They nodded politely, with Hook grumbling about “no yelling,” on his way out.
Starscream leaned back, his blue optics soft and kind. “Why should I hate my rescuer?”
“Because I am so much more than that-”
“Yes. You’re right. You mean a lot more to me than just that,” Starscream said.
Jetfire swallowed, shaking his helm. “Please don’t make this easy on me; I haven’t earned it.”
Starscream scowled at that. “And what about me? Haven’t I earned my happy ending?”
Jetfire closed his optics, and his wings dropped behind him. “You deserve to be happy. But you won’t be with me. I only bring you pain and suffering.”
“Maybe I’m into it,” Starscream replied, grinning.
“Starscream,” Jetfire said through clenched denta.
“Jetfire,” Starscream replied mildly. “I have missed you. Can you please come here and kiss me before you go through more self-flagellation? It’s eating into my ‘alive’ time.”
Jetfire nearly buckled at the knees, desperate to go to Starscream and surrender to his affection. He held out for a moment longer, thinking he could keep it together and walk away from this, from him, so that Starscream could pursue the life he deserved.
But then Starscream reached out his hand, holding it open, reaching for Jetfire to come closer, and stay close.
Jetfire could never withhold his hand from Starscream’s grasp ever again.
Jetfire went to Starscream’s side and slowly wrapped his large arms around him, enveloping him in an embrace. Somehow this was more intimate than when he had been carrying his spark in his chest close to his own- but right now, Starscream felt real, and the closeness was palpable.
He breathed him in. “I missed you, too.”
Starscream smiled against his cheek, reaching up to gently caress his face. “I’m glad yours was the last face I saw when I died and the first when I returned. It’s poetic, almost.” He traced the edge of Jetfire’s jaw, weakly grasping his chin and tilting it towards him. Jetfire closed his optics as Starscream comforted him with little kisses at the corner of his mouth, nose, and forehead.
“I didn’t have a chance to tell you… before,” Jetfire murmured, weathering Starscream’s affection like it didn’t warm his battered spark. “I want to share your dream with you. I want to make it a reality.”
Starscream pulled back, looking into Jetfire’s face, and then his optic softened. “You darling idiot,” he said as he pressed his lips against Jetfire’s. “You were always part of my dream. You, by my side, make it a reality.”
There wasn’t a need for more words as Jetfire kissed him back, pouring every ounce of want, need, and relief into the press of their lips.
He smirked, pulling Starscream closer. “You always had a way with words.”
And when Starscream’s peel of laughter filled the tent at that pronouncement, somehow Jetfire knew things would be alright.
Because he had something worth fighting for.