Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Jazz crossed his arms across his chassis and made optic contact with Prowl, who stood across the large table that was centered in the meeting room of the Autobot’s High Command. Prowl returned his stare, blankly, the only show of emotion being an acknowledging doorwing flick. Mirage stood to Jazz’s right, slightly behind his commander, and was rigidly at attention. At the head of the table was, of course, Optimus Prime himself, in the metal — currently looking very conflicted with his furrowed expression. Other ranking officers flanked the table, but Mirage wasn’t too interested in them at the moment. 

The tension in the room could be slit with a knife, but Mirage thought that Jazz speaking out did the job well enough.

”So.” All optics would have snapped to the Second in Command at that moment, if they weren’t already there. Jazz continued, “Prowler. My agent” — here he gestured to Mirage, who nodded politely — “tells me that we have an opportunity that could turn the tide, possibly win us the war, and you want to not take it?” 

Jazz’s incredulous tone made Ironhide, who was sat next to Prowl wince. Prowl’s subtle body language was (while probably not visible to the average outside view) was a general mix of resigned, firm, and calculative, shown in the rigidity of his spinal strut and the line of his intake. Mirage had no doubt his mentor could pick up on it as well, of course being both Special Operations Commanded and Prowl’s lover. While the latter wasn’t up for debate, he certainly thought both bots had a strange way of showing it in public. But then again, neither were very forthcoming with information, despite Jazz’s friendly demeanor, so they may act completely differently behind closed doors.

Prowl replied with a fairly neutral tone, despite the aggressive words, “As I said, the risks here are unparalleled and I do not believe it to be a safe move. Would you risk losing the war now, when we’ve been fighting for millions of years? All because your agent had a soft spot for some ‘cons who may or not be getting mistreated?”

All around the two standing mechanisms quiet conversion and debate sparked. Mirage strained his audials to try to catch what he could from those closest to him while still paying attention to the officers in front of him.

Jazz shook his helm. “No, ya know I don’t want that, but there are ways to counter them. I believe in our cause’s ability to regulate these risks while still finding ways to benefit us. No mech can say what will happen, and this chance is not one I want us to pass up.”

Prowl prepare to argue back, but was cut off by the Prime raising his right hand.

”Hold on.”

Immediately the room fell silent. 

Optimus continued, “We cannot have our command fall into a divide over this issue. I believe we are equals here, so it shall be put to vote. Some may wish to keep their vote anonymous, so please ping me an affirmative or negative confirming your stance on the topic at hand: should the Autobot faction dedicate resources to attempting to convince the Air Commander and Second in Command of the Decepticons, Starscream, as well as his subordinates which whom he has an unknown positive relation with?”

A low murmur moved like a wave through the assembled bots. Personally, Mirage liked the idea. Obviously he was in support of the topic, considering he was the one who had brought the idea to Jazz, although he was surprised at the ferocity Jazz displayed defending it. Though, come to think of it, wasn’t there a rumor spread that Jazz had ties to the Decepticons? Not that Mirage believes ill of his Commander and friend, or that he could be a double agent in the slightest. Most bots probably just dislike the way the spy seems to pop up whenever you least want him to, and silently to boot.

A few breems passed in silence as mechs deliberated their answer, and Mirage stilled the instinctive wish to fidget or use his outlier. Suddenly disappearing would probably not reinforce his mysterious personality front all that well. Instead, he decided to pass his time by trying to gauge the thought processes that were painted upon the faceplates of those around them without them knowing it. Man, having training was helpful sometimes.

Finally, the Prime gave the results, “It seems the decision was close, but we overall leaned against it, and the important factors most mentioned were unreliability from the Seekers as unknown variables, and our personal issue of mechpower. Ultimately, we will not dedicate resources to this project, but it was still very much appreciated for being brought up, and a valuable piece of intelligence. Thank you Jazz, Mirage.”

Jazz bowed stiffly and Mirage nodded slightly, following his commander out of the room. As soon as they ducked through the doorway, Jazz was gone. Most likely off to sulk or think, or whatever that mech does when he’s upset with Prowl. Like he said, strange relationship.

Mirage huffed. He knew what he saw — those Seekers were not the cold-lined killing machines that they’ve come to view them as over the course of the war. They obviously cared for each other (though in what capacity, Mirage was unsure. Vosnians were always a secretive bunch about their bonds and tradition and during wartime it was no different.) and were obviously being mistreated. A little push in the right direction might help them to make a choice.

Rejected Decepticons joining up with the Autobots would be pretty idealistic, but becoming neutrals also wasn’t out of the question. Though, there were very few left after the devastation that ravaged Cybertron — pressure to join either alignment increased drastically coupled with the multitudes of extinguished sparks.

Regardless of the obvious advantage it would lend, their Command voted on it and Mirage had to accept it no matter his own thoughts. Right?

“Starscream!”

Thundercracker somehow managed to slam the automatic doors to their habsuite closed behind him as he stormed into their shared space. Skywarp watched through the secondary doorway from his position lying on his back in their berth, chassis half dangling off the side, and pedes kicking. 

Starscream turned around from where he was situated in a chair that he had modified to fit to their frametype, accommodating for the wings that few Cybertronians had. He raised an optical ridge at his obviously irritated (rare for Thundercracker) trinemate, and continued tinkering with the small device in his servos without looking down on it. Skywarp would almost be impressed, but after millennia of living with the other Seeker, it looses its touch after a while.

Thundercracker made his way over to their tricolored trineleader, and Skywarp dialed up his audial sensitivity to listen in. Though he was radiating anger on the outside, over the bond Skywarp -- and Starscream as well -- could both tell it was mostly exaggerated and not sincere.

"Yes?" Starscream prompted, facing Thundercracker, "What's this about?"

The blue Seeker twitched his wings and leveled his optics at Starscream. "You know what it's about."

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Starscream replied, and Skywarp could feel the playful smugness radiating off of him.

Thundercracker jabs a digit in his direction accusingly. "No, no, no! You've put me on monitor duty with Soundwave the last few cycles. You know he freaks me out!" A full frame shiver runs through his plating when he mentions the cassette carrier. Skywarp can relate!

Starscream shrugged nonchalantly. "You fit what I needed in that position. That's all. Don't spare too much processor power on it, you'll be assigned a different shift soon."

"No, I know someone was supposed to be there that wasn't me, and it was changed last minute. I bet I can find a capture of the original..." Thundercracker trails off in that distant way that reveals he's working through memory files or staring at his HUD. Uh oh.

A momentary pause, and --

"Skywarp!" Thundercracker whirls around and points to him. Well, it was nice while it lasted. 

Butting back into the conversation, Starscream adds on, "Wouldn't you do the same for a piece of gossip about Prowl? We almost never hear about Autobot drama and I needed to know! There’s no way he’d go for someone like Jazz, that can’t be right…" 

Skywarp snickers. "Sorry, TC, didn't mean to make you the target. I'm pretty sure I like Soundwave less than you. But I'll tell you for the cheap price of ‘you promise not to slag me’, deal?"

"What -- why would I care about Autobot drama?" Skywarp faintly hears Starscream mutter something that sounds like 'uncultured' before Thundercracker yelps out "No deal!" and leaps at him.

Skywarp gives a lazy half salute and warps out of reach, snickering when he watches Thundercracker spin around with narrowed optics, outstretched servos, and a grin.

"Catch me if you can!" he chirps back, and warps away again, the echoes of his trinemate's laughter at the ridiculousness of the situation ringing in his audials.

A few jumps later, Skywarp was safely out of reach. Where, you might ask? He wasn't exactly sure. You might think that after spending so much time on one ship, that The Victory would be known to him like the back of his wing, but nooo. Skywarp was still discovering new rooms every so often. Like the deserted storage room he was currently in!

Looking around, a few empty crates littered the mostly empty room. A few scraps and pieces also were scattered across the floor, and shadows crept out from the tall and bare walls that surrounded the minimalistic space. Creeeeepy. No mech had probably been in here for at least a decade, based on the dust layer spread across every upward facing plane.

Well, that was until Skywarp. Ha. 

Stepping forward, he poked about at the more interesting looking things, but pretty much gave up on the boring room after nothing really piqued his attention. Oh well, guess it was time to warp back to their quarters and see if Thundercracker had cooled off yet. Monitor duty wasn’t that bad… it was really just Soundwave that made it worse.

The sound of something clattering to the floor had Skywarp whipping around to the direction where it came from and leveling his nullrays at a suspiciously highly stacked amount of crates. Prowling towards the area with a glare, he couldn’t see any intruders, and his wing sensors didn’t ping anything in proximity.

Something had to have made that noise. After spending a few more minutes checking around the general vicinity, Skywarp hissed out of frustration and kicked one of them. A surprisingly bright beam of light broke through from the area it was moved from, and he shielded one optic as he stared down the apparent hole in the wall.

”Huh,” he thought aloud, “that’s a bit of a security risk.”

Whatever or whoever was in here was now long gone, and Skywarp supposed he should report the risk to Soundwave. Ooh, he should definitely do that, maybe he could score a few extra rations from their limited supply to share with his tribe and bribe Thundercracker to forgive him. Yes, definitely!

Trilling happily, Skywarp warped back out of the storage room, and trotted up to where Soundwave was probably lounging around. Wait, no, wrong term, Soundwave would never lounge. ‘Sit rigidly’ was probably a better description. Seriously, did that mech ever sleep? Do anything besides hold his backstrut completely straight and praise Megatron? Prolly not. 

“Guh.” Starscream slammed his helm down into the pile of datapads with an incoherent noise of struggle. “Megatron wants these plans completed for the raid within the next few cycles, but he just doesn’t understand that the whole thing is idiotic and there is absolutely no way we can pull off this mission feasibly without the risks outweighing the benefits or whatever. Basically, I make a doom-plan where most of us get hurt or else he slags me.”

Thundercracker patted a wing sympathetically as he stood over Starscream’s shoulder, listening to his trineleader complain. Hey, at least most of his playful anger was directed at Skywarp for bribing him and no longer at Starscream for accepting the bribe. Now he could get the validation he most certainly needed for his complains on his leader.

”At least you’re not planning another assasination attempt this time, right?” Thundercracker offered hopefully. “He’d be more likely to if you were.”

Starscream rolled his optics and huffed. “Of course I am. He’s not fit for leadership, and he’s absolutely scrap at pretty much everything. His time has long passed.”

Thundercracker sighed. “Of course you are. Please be careful this time, alright? The last time we had to patch you up because Megatron didn’t want you going to Hook we had to use up too much of the energon Skywarp needed because of his outlier and I had to barter with Swindle for more. Eugh. He wanted holocaptures of me — and you and ‘Warp, but I didn’t let him have those — for Primus knows what.”

”Thundercracker!” Starscream yelped. “You don’t know what those are for? Mecha are gonna self-service to that. You’re a catch, TC, but don’t let them have you. Idiots like… Thrust or Acid Storm don’t get to have you.”

”Ah — huh?” Thundercracker flushed. “But — why? What? Me? I mean I understand you and ‘Warp…” he mumbled.

Starscream shook his helm. “You haven’t noticed? They all want a piece of us, all three of us. Too bad, so sad. Can’t have us. You shouldn’t have given them those holos, though, they might get brave enough to start coming onto you, and you don’t want to be peeling me off of whatever sorry ‘Con tries to get into your panels and ends up making you uncomfortable. Pit, they should know better than to try with me around.”

”Well, it does feel nice to be wanted…” Thundercracker notes, “But you’re right. I can’t help it, I don’t want any of them, especially not to interface with. Aw, mech, you’re really making me regret selling those to Swindle now. Ewwwww.”

Starscream tuts. “It’ll teach you for next time. I’ll threaten him when I get time and I should be able to track down all the copies to get rid of them. Take it as my monitor-duty-apology.”

Wings visibly perking, Thundercracker seemed a lot happier. “Thank you, Star!” 

Starscream waved him off, and went back to working on the raid plans. Distantly, he could hear Thundercracker flop onto their berth, taking the spot Skywarp previously occupied. Ugh, there was no way these would work. Maybe Soundwave would support him? The mech was totally Megatron’s pede-kisser or whatever but he wouldn’t knowingly let plans this bad go through. He hoped. Maybe another assassination attempt really would fix it — this one would work. For sure.

Chapter Text

Starscream stared down Megatron as the larger silver mech slammed down a familiar datapad on the desk in front of them. 

“What is this, Starscream?” he hissed, visibly furious. Soundwave stood behind him in silent support — or disproval, one could never tell with him. Ravage had herself spread over his shoulders, tail flicking lazily as her orange-gold optics focused on the current entertainment of the meeting.

Starscream’s optics met Megatron’s. “This is a terrible idea. None of these plans will work — unless you want our army to be decimated by a fool’s attempt to capture a mine swarming with Autobots while only allotting me half of the Seeker force for the mission.”

Megatron growled. “It is not your duty to question my orders. It is only your responsibility to carry them out, effectively. Make do with the resources you are given.”

Snorting in disgust, Starscream looked to Soundwave for help. The dark blue cassette carrier stared impassively back. Or maybe he had fallen into recharge. Hard to tell with the visor. Starscream tried to think loud thoughts like ‘PLEASE TELL OUR GLORIOUS LEADER THIS IS A BAD IDEA’ and ‘SOUNDWAVE HELP THIS IS SUICIDE’ — not that he really expected it to work, but a mech could hope.

”I’m not letting you send us in there to get killed,” he replied testily. “At least allow me to bring the whole Seeker force. Then, we might have a slim chance at -“ 

“Enough!” Megatron cut him off loudly and put a warning servo on one of his wings. No way he’d actually cripple his best flier, right? “You will complete the mission, and if this plan is the best you can come up with, their energon will be on your servos, not mine.”

”No! I’m not letting you -“ 

Megatron crushed his wing.

Pain.

Immediate feedback rang throughout his frame, and Starscream howled out in pain as the delicate metal crushed beneath his leader’s brutal digits.

“My lord… please.” Starscream choked out.

Megatron kept them there for a few clicks, before removing his servo, five scores deep into Starcream’s wings. Venting heavily and leaning over the desk of their command room, it took Starscream longer than he’d have liked to regain his composure. Energon pooled around him sluggishly, and Starscream found himself struggling to keep his optics online.

Megatron crushed his wing, right before a suicide raid. Maybe he really did want him to die.

”Go see Hook,” Megatron ordered, disdain lacing his voice. “Then finish preparing to set off.”

Starscream looked around the room. Soundwave stood, as unreadable as ever. Ravage had averted her gaze, Starscream could imagine she kept imagining Laserbeak or Buzzsaw’s wings in his place.

Fed up, Starscream stormed off. His uninjured wing twitched in annoyance as he made his way out of the meeting room, thruster heels clacking loudly on the metal floor. The last thing he wanted to do was go to the medbay, but the throbbing of his wing as it dragged lowly down his backstrut captured his processor in a net of pain.

“Cloud-strike position!” Starscream ordered to the air troops over the roaring of the wind around them, listening as the other Seeker trines shifted into the battle formation he ordered. He could sense Thundercracker on his right wing and Skywarp on his left, as usual. Perfect.

Dipping down below the cloudcover in an obviously practiced maneuver, Starscream led the Decepticon airforce into a steep dive, activated nullrays flashing out shots at the assorted Autobots below who were assigned to guard the energon outpost.

Weaving through the air, Starscream let the feeling of his trinemates at his flanks and the data feedback of the sky around him overwhelm him for just a moment before barking out more commands to his subordinates. The clouds around him were grey and heavy with raindrops, but he was hoping that they could get in and out with supplies before it started pouring.

For now, the ill planning of this mission had rushed to the back of his processor and he was enjoying the gleeful sensation of flying with trine, despite the dulled throbbing that still radiated out from his left wing.

Lighting down gracefully, Starscream transformed to land gently on his thrusters and immediately started shooting towards the stationed Autobots. No subtlety required. He could sense his trinemates had his back, both of them radiating satisfaction at accurate shots over the bond.

Blurs of red and gold filled his vision, and Starscream knew exactly what was coming. The terror twins. Ugh. His fuel tanks helpfully chose that moment to cheerfully remind him that his tanks were at 30% capacity.

“Looking a little worse for wear there, Screamer!” Sideswipe taunted, and Starscream growled in response.

”Don’t call me that.”

Wings twitching, he braced himself for the impact and flung himself forward, leaping up into a transformation over the two Autobots. Slamming into the temporary mining base, Starscream locked the door behind him quickly.

Much to his satisfaction, he could hear the enraged pounding of the grounders on the door, followed by the excited shouts and taunts from Thundercracker and Skywarp as they fell into combat. Having full faith in his trinemates, Starscream turned down the dark tunnel to where he could spot some stacked cubes of energon settled on a tarp.

Grinning, he scooped as many as he could into his subspace, pausing only to stare at one wistfully when his fuel tanks pinged him a warning once more. Still, it was better not to risk Megatron’s wrath once more, lest he notice that Starscream had recently fueled, and was therefore not as weak of a punching bag.

A ripple of displaced air along his wings had Starscream raise his guard even higher and whirl around to face the area.

In front of him, an Autobot phased into existence. Mirage, if Starscream remembered correctly. Worked directly under Jazz and a worthy spy and opponent.

To his skepticism, the other didn’t immediately attack, and had given up the element of surprise by revealing himself. Starscream didn’t know what the other mech was playing at, but he didn’t want to take any chances. He tensed further.

“Starscream.” Mirage greeted him rather politely, with a dip of his helm, a remnant of a respectful acknowledgement from the Towers of Cybertron. Must have been a noble, from back… before.

Starscream hissed in return, activating his weapons and targeting system to lock onto the rather unthreatening spy. “What do you want? You can’t stop me from taking these.”

Mirage waved his servos in surrender. “No, I don’t think I can, one-on-one. But that’s not really what I’m here for.”

This was even more suspicious if possible. Starscream jerked one glowing nullray at him.

”Well?”

“I know Megatron doesn’t treat you as he should. I’m not sure why you stay, honestly. The original Decepticon cause is long gone,” Mirage admitted. Starscream felt like the words pierced his spark with no amount of mercy. “And there’s nothing left for you there. I believe you were, and have the capability to be a good mech.”

Starscream rolled his optics. “You’re trying to convince me to leave? Why would I? I have everything I could ever want. Megatron is of no consequence to me — that fool will soon be gone, and I will take my place as rightful ruler of the Decepticons. I’ll restore them to their former glory of the original cause!”

Mirage levels him with a look that lets him know that the other mech is absolutely unconvinced any of that is true. Which, well, he would be partially correct.

“Listen to me. I believe in you. And if there comes a time where you’re able to believe in yourself, too, I think there would be a place for you here.”

Starscream’s wings flare up, and his disoriented processed comes up with several trap situations for the offer being extended to him, despite the other’s genuine tone. He can feel his trinemate’s inquiring pulses of curiosity at his current state over the bond. After a klik, he shakes his helms and shoots a shot towards Mirage, that goes extremely wide and misses him. 

”Warning shot,” he growls out as a cover up, and slowly backs up to the mine entrance, making a run for it. 

Calling the rest of the Seekers to a retreat, Starscream leaps up into his transformation sequence and takes off. Just as he’s thinking this raid didn’t actually go as terribly as he predicted, a precise shot burns its way through his left wing, where Megatron had injured him previously. It must have been the Autobot’s sniper, Bluestreak — Starscream wasn’t aware the Praxian was stationed here. No weakness escaped that mech, he must have been favoring that wing ever so slightly.

A shout reaches his audials, and Starscream isn’t sure if it came from him or another mech. He is spiraling downwards, hot pain enveloping his sensors as he falls down, down, down. Then, darkness.

…

Slowly, Starscream onlines. Warnings in assortments of colors flash over his HUD and he groans at the feeling of soreness coating every platelet on his frame. If he had to put it into words, he would describe it as the feeling of ‘falling 182 floors down an elevator shaft’. Not that he’s speaking from experience, of course…

His optics flicker on, the crimson light reflecting off of the wet ground in front of him. Huh, guess it started raining while he was out. Thinking about it, he could sense the raindrops plopping themselves down into his frame. Now, his situation.

One of his wings was definitely shot to the Pits and back — he probably would need help to get back to their base. Oh, the humiliation.

Based on what limited area he could see, Starscream assumed he was lying on the ground, on his cockpit, faceplates mushed into the muddy ground from his fall. Lovely.

Everything else felt fairly intact, if not extra sore, but he wasn’t in danger of his spark guttering out. That was good. A good start.

There was an odd sensation, and Starscream stilled as he finally placed it.

Someone was in his subspace.

Someone was in his subspace.

Immediately, he started thrashing, attempting to dislodge the invader. It was typically considered beyond intimate to be allowed into another mech’s subspace, and rifling around in there uninvited was pretty much a death sentence for whichever Cybertronian had decided to try it on him, Starscream decided.

He could feel the other’s servos retreating, and trying to still him as he fought back against the invasion. Starscream hissed out his displeasure, and finally was able to stagger to his pedes, keeled over as he fought to vent air through his systems. Finally focusing, he clocked the mech, most likely the one who was in his subspace.

“Sunstreaker.” 

The orange-gold mech scowled at him, but his field was almost apologetic as he backed away from Starscream.

”We need that energon. It’s not yours to take.”

Where one twin went, the other was sure to follow. Sideswipe popped up from behind his grumpier twin with a primed gun and a glare across his faceplates. Starscream glanced around and couldn’t see any plausible methods of escape and grimaced.

”We’re taking you prisoner!” Sideswipe called out. “Don’t try to resist.”

Starscream shifted into a defensive position. Try not to resist, his aft.

Just as he raised his wings to prepare for a skirmish, a familiar vop echoed through the air, then the disorienting feeling of falling through nothingness. 

Starscream vented heavily as he was set delicately down on the floor of The Victory’s dock. Skywarp was beside him, and he could feel the concerned pulses that the other mech was pushing across their bond. Thundercracker’s was fainter, he couldn’t see or sense the blue Seeke near him, but still there.

Two large silver pedes approached him, the only thing he could see with his blurry tunnel vision directed towards the ground.

”Starscream,” the voice came. “Where is the energon from this raid.”

Starscream coughed and reset his vocalizer a few times before even attempting to speak. He could also feel Skywarp hovering over him, caught between telling Megatron off for trying to interrogate him in this state and loyalty to his leader.

”Lord Megatron… we tried our best, but unfortunately I was shot down,” Starscream wheezed a little bit here, and adjusted his wing, “by the Autobot sniper with the designation Bluestreak.”

”You were shot down?” Megatron asked, voice icy steel. “You were the one to compromise the mission because you were shot?”

Starscream flinched back nervously. “It wasn’t like that! You knew the success rate for this was very low, and it just happened that I was the one to get hit for it —“

Megatron cut him off with a punch to his faceplates. Frag. Starscream hissed in return, and could feel the embarrassment and hurt burning through his frame. Here, in front of the assembled Seekers, his subordinates? In front of his trinemate? Starscream could feel Skywarp’s rage and upset burst through the bond, but he flicked his wing in a warning not to act. Who knew how much worse the consequences would be?

Energon was trickling down his frame from a busted energon line. Hook would have a nice time fixing that one up later.

”It was your failure that led to our loss of resources, Starscream.” The larger mech bent down and wrapped a servo around Starscream’s throat cabling, lifting up the smaller Seeker so that their optics met. 

Struggling wildly, Starscream felt a tear of coolant leak out against his will. It seemed like Megatron couldn’t even feel the way his clawed digits ripped into the other’s paintjob. 

“Megatron… please…” Starscream managed to choke out.

”It’s Lord Megatron,” he growled out, “and you should know that by now. Accept your punishment gracefully, you and your trine will not be receiving your energon rations for this cycle.”

Starscream thrashed further, but Megatron’s grip held fast. “Trine… why?” he questioned, vocalizer straining.

”Skywarp disobeyed my direct orders to go get you when you had been left behind during the retreat.” Megatron replied coolly. “He should have known better as well.” 

Despite the situation, Starscream felt a fierce rush of affection for his trinemate.

Megatron seemingly grew bored, and let go of his frame, sending it crashing to the ground. Starscream whimpered aloud as he landed on his injured wing. Curling up into a heap, he barely registered that Megatron had raised a pede until it came crashing down onto his chest. Starscream heard and felt something crack under the pressure. White hot pain shot throughout his frame and it was all he could do to keep himself online through it.

After what felt like an eternity, the weight was removed and Starscream gasped in shuddered vents. Distantly, he could hear Megatron call out something that sounded like “pathetic” and receding pedesteps. As soon as the click of the dock door closed, Skywarp was upon him.

”Starscream,” he whispered urgently, calling out his full designation instead of the usual nickname. “Starscream, are you okay? Oh Primus, stupid question, ignore that. Can you hear me.”

Starscream wanted to answer positively, but none of his hydraulics would cooperate with him.

Skywarp was shaking. Starscream could feel it in the servos that flitted around his frame, afraid to touch just a bit too hard. He also wanted to reassure his trinemate, but found he wasn’t able to do that either. Darkness was pulling at him.

It was okay, though. He could feel Thundercracker’s presence approaching. Thundercracker would know what to do, he always did. Starscream gave into the pull and fell offline, the last thing he could hear being Skywarp’s panicked and surprised cry.

Thundercracker shouldered his way though assorted mechanisms crowded throughout the dock.

”Let me through,” he growled out, singlemindedly focused on the fact that his trineleader was hurt and he needed to fix it now.

After more than enough ducking and weaving, Thundercracker finally pushed aside a Seeker standing too close for comfort — Dirge? Didn’t matter. Their poor Star was curled up on the floor, energon pooling beneath his crumpled frame. Skywarp was frantically moving around him, and he could feel the panic and anxiety through the bond threatening to overwhelm his own emotions. 

Distantly, he could hear the violet mech explaining over his communications that Megatron had forbid Starscream from going to Hook once more.

Thundercracker cursed and took the last few steps as quickly as possible to his trine’s side. What happened wasn’t important, but they had to get Starscream to safety and away from the onlookers. Starscream would hate to be seen like this.

Taking a calm vent, he assessed the situation with as carefully as he could muster. He would definitely need to be carried, and Thundercracker didn’t trust that something wasn’t broken internally: which meant warping was off limits. Scrap.

:: Skywarp. :: He commed the other Seeker, with as even of a tone as he could manage. :: Please go back to our hab and prepare the emergency aid kit as well as covering the berth for when i bring him. ::

Thundercracker crouched down to a kneel next to his fallen trinemate, who was definitely knocked into emergency recharge based on the closed and dulled bond from Starscream’s side. Well, he would fake that over Skywarp’s panic… and the horrifying sensation of hurt-hurt-hurt being thrust through it from Starscream and being powerless to stop it.

Easing his servos under the other Seeker, he silently thanked the fact that he had a mass advantage over the other two. With some effort, Starscream was gently lifted and fit into his hold. Thundercracker winced as Starscream’s faceplate contorted in pain and he curled further into his grasp.

The walk back to their habsuite was tense and painful. Starscream barely moved, and when he did, it was with a whimper of pain or a shudder. Thundercracker was determined to get him back safely.

Finally, they were there and Thundercracker opened the doors by inputting their code as quickly as he could. Rushing to the berth, but tasking as much care as he could spare not to jostle the precious cargo in his arms, he settled Starscream down gently and went into first aid mode.

After the first few times Megatron had learned that withholding medical care from Starscream was a valid form of punishment in his optics, their entire trine had taken up learning basic medical knowledge in case of an emergency, and it has served them well for the past hundreds of vorns. They were, however, far from trained medics, and with no energon supply to replace what he had lost there was no way to fully repair Starscream.

Skywarp passed him the tools he needed without any glyphs between them. The tense silence was only broken when Starscream shot up suddenly, unable to vent properly.

Thundercracker sent as much safe-calm-okay-withtrine over the bond as he could manage while also trying to regulate Starscream’s frame stats.

“It’s not working!” Skywarp hissed to him.

”It’s okay, it’s okay…” Thundercracker pressed the patches he had just applied back on as Starscream started throwing them off with his movements. “Starscream. Listen to me. You need to go into stasis.”

His trineleader didn’t seem to be able to make sense of the words he was being told, and continued fighting back. Thundercracker bit back a curse and fell to their last resort.

Shutting down his optics, he pulled both himself and Skywarp into the depths of their bond.

It’s okay, he tried to project. Recharge.

It almost felt like a miracle when it worked. Starscream’s vents slowed, and eventually, he fell into stasis.

Thundercracker locked optics with Skywarp over the berth. The vibrant red centers were blown wide and overbright.

”TC, what are we going to do?” came the dreaded question.

”I don’t know,” he whispered back. “I don’t know.”

Chapter Text

Mirage rapped hesitantly on the doorframe that led to the Autobot laboratory at their main base. 

“Coming!” someone called from inside, followed by what sounded to be a minor explosion, then some muffled curses. Mirage waited patiently, scrolling through notifications on his HUD to see if he’d missed anything recently. It seemed like he was all caught up, for now. Unfortunately, too much happened here on a daily basis for it to stay that way.

Finally, the blast door slid open, and Wheeljack gestured him inside, venting heavily. Mirage followed the inventor into the space, stepping lightly and carefully. Looking around, there were desks crowded with half-finished projects and blueprints. It was honestly a mess, and Mirage grimaced at the thought of having to work in here. 

It wasn’t all bad, however — one particular sector of the lab was cleanly and pristinely organized, files and workspaces meticulously organized. Mirage slid a dubious glance from the area, over to Wheeljack, then back to the area. 

Wheeljack seemed to notice, and laughed. “That’s Skyfire’s workspace. I don’t know how he does it.”

”He does seem to excel in cleanliness,” Mirage commented politely. “That’s actually who I’m looking for. Do you know where Skyfire is? I have a few questions for him.”

Thinking for a klik, Wheeljack seemed to have a hard time recalling his fellow scientist’s escapades. Eventually he came up with “Oh! I think he’s up on the roof around this time.” This time, being currently sunset on Earth, Mirage observed. It may prove useful in the future. “He likes to sit up there and watch the sky. I don’t know why,” Wheeljack continued, laughing slightly at the inadvertent rhyme. “Good luck!”

Mirage nodded his thanks and made his way to the nearest stairwell. Once he reached the top, he found Wheeljack was pretty much spot on. Skyfire sat at the edge of the roof, pedes dangling off the edge, and wings facing towards Mirage. He supposed being so high up wouldn’t bother a flier, though it certainly put him on edge.

Walking up, Mirage deliberately made sure the noises he made were obvious, lest he scare the other mech away. Taking a seat on Skyfire’s right side, he cocked his head and looked up at the shuttleformer’s expression. Melancholy, if he had to use a word to describe it.

”Ah… hello?” Skyfire turned to him, confused but still welcoming. “Did you need me for something?”

”No, no,” Mirage assuaged, “I just had a few questions, if that’s alright?”

Skyfire nodded his assent. “Sure. On what? I never knew you to be the science-y type.”

Mirage laughed lightly. “No, you’re right about that. I would of course prefer stealth missions over blueprints any time. My questions were about Starscream, and your past with him, if you’re willing to answer them.”

Immediately, Skyfire seemed to shrink and recede into his frame. His wings turned townwards, plating clamped closely inwards, and optics dimmed. Mirage felt a guilt creep up into his spark.

”No pressure,” he added on. “It’s not life or death or for Autobot intel. I know we aren’t really friends, I’m just asking for personal reasons.”

Skyfire took a long vent in before replying in an even tone, “Is this to use against him?”

Mirage gave a questioning look.

”No, I’m serious,” Skyfire continued. “You asked about my past, and I’m only willing to tell you if you’re not meaning to use it in some kind of… mind-game way with him. So please, do you want to know because you want to use it against him.”

”No,” Mirage answered. “To be honest with you, I saw him, when I was out. During a fight, on a mission, it doesn’t matter much. And he seemed… kind. It’s not a word I’d associate with him at all. I was interested in finding out what he was like before the war, or if you ever knew him in that light.”

“I’ll tell you some of it,” the other promised, “But please keep it to yourself.”

Mirage nodded his assent, and Skyfire’s gaze turned wistful. “We were very close before the war. As some of the rare flightframes enrolled in Iacon’s Scientific Academy, we had to stick together. Functionalism, you know? We were roommates, and at first, I had a hard time getting along with him. We fought over methods, personality traits, and everything in between. But slowly… I started to see more to him.

“Starscream has always had a rough exterior — that hasn’t and will never change. I know that beyond it, lies someone who cares, greatly. I began to see the way he treated other mecha did not always mirror his words. If others came to ask for his help, Starscream would berate them with glyphs, but within that would be genuine advice and he would have already started fixing it for them at that point.

“I understand that the war impacted everyone far more than even they might know, but I have a hard time accepting that the mech I once knew might be gone forever. I… miss him.”

Skyfire seemed to realize what he had said, and followed up quickly with “Not that I would trade my place here for him! I believe in our cause.”

Mirage waved him off. “I understand what you mean. And, between us, I don’t think that the Starscream you once knew is gone forever.”

With that, he got up and left. Mirage definitely had thoughts to cycle around his processor, and he needed some time to think — Skyfire’s insight was very helpful. It gave him hope.

Skywarp stood over their berth warily. Starscream’s frame lay below him, the mech deep in recharge, and labored vents erupted erratically every few kliks. Skywarp was worried.

Thundercracker had gone out earlier to negotiate with Swindle. What they had left to bargain, Skywarp didn’t know. He hoped it wasn’t pictures of any of them, again. 

With their rations being cut off, Starscream nearly delirious from energon loss, and being forbidden from professional medical care, their options were limited. Possibly down to none. None of them knew just what to do.

Starscream wasn’t lucid enough to feed ideas, and he was their typical planner. Thundercracker was focused on keeping Starscream healthy, and now it was left to Skywarp to consider their options while he watched patiently over their trineleader.

So far, he had gotten to: Options? None. Allies? None. Except maybe Rumble and Frenzy on a good day. Deceptions weren’t very good at friends. And finally, and probably most importantly, plans? None.

Yikes.

Skywarp ex-vented heavily and slid one of his servos off of his lap to rest lightly on one of Starscream’s wings. The living metal shivered under his touch, and Skywarp caressed it gently. Starscream seemed to settle slightly under his ministrations, and a small smile snuck out of the violet flier. 

He was here, his spark was still lit, and that’s all that mattered. Wasn’t it?

Absentmindedly tweaking the edge of one of Starscream’s wings, Skywarp sank deep into thought.

If they left, where could they go? Become neutrals and desert the cause? They’d be hunted down as traitors almost immediately, he was sure. If the Decepticons didn’t get them first, the struggle to find energon and heal Starscream would be fatal. There were no neutral doctors left, Skywarp was sure of that, so they’d have to what — kidnap an Autobot or Decepticon medic and threaten them into healing their trineleader? Pfft, yeah, sure, that would go over well. TC would definitely be against the idea.

Skywarp sighed and crumpled to his knee joints, letting his faceplates plant into one of the mesh pillows. What in the Pits were they going to do?

Maybe Megatron would take mercy on them? If he saw how badly Starscream was hurt, maybe he would let them go to Hook? 

Though, thinking back to his leader’s face while he was striking Starscream, Skywarp wasn’t confident that the other mechanic would even care.

Could they… bribe Hook or Knockout to come help? No, probably not, each valued their own sparks or the sparks of their Conjunx/Gestaltmates. Skywarp could relate, that’s what pretty much got them into this mess. Not that they had much to bribe with, either. Starscream didn’t control the medical shifts, everyone was low on energon, and there was none of that fancy finish that had gotten Knockout to help them out of a tight spot that one time.

Skywarp sighed. Plans were really not his strong suit, but he wanted to help take some of the burden off of Thundercracker.

Starscream whined from within stasis, and Skywarp noticed one of the temporary patches had come undone and he grimaced. As quickly and gently as he could, he patched it up — but it still wasn’t enough to hold off the sluggish flow of energon that had leaked from the open wound onto the berth.

Grabbing a dingy cloth, Skywarp soaked as much of it up as he could. After warping over to the disposal to get rid of it, he returned to Starscream’s side.

The other seeker’s optics were lit, the crimson burning brightly into his own.

”Starscream!” Skywarp whispered in surprise. “Why are you up? Never mind, go back to recharging, you need it to keep your self-repair going.”

”No…” Starscream slurred, “We need to leave. Autobots said… Would take us.”

Skywarp hushed him. “No, Star, you’re hurting and you need to recharge. You’re delirious. The Autobots would just kill us. Please, rest.”

”Have to go there.” Starscream shook his helm, and it seemed like the action took more effort than it should out of him. “Promise. It hurts.”

”Starscream, we can’t—“

”Promise.” he insisted stubbornly.

”Okay, okay,” Skywarp acquiesced, “I promise. We can go see the Autobots. Now, please, recharge.”

Apparently satisfied, Starscream dulled his optics and fell into the rhythmic motions of stasis once more. 

Skywarp was left alone with the sound of labored vents and dripping energon.

Of course, they couldn’t go the Autobots. They’d be killed on sight. Honestly, Starscream, of all his plans, that was the one he decided to insist upon?

But…

If they didn’t figure something out soon… Skywarp didn’t even want to think about it. His optics dimmed tiredly. Yawning, he made his way up into the berth to rest beside Starscream, hoping that Thundercracker was having better luck than he was.

“Please?” Thundercracker was on the verge of begging to Swindle.

”No-can-do,” replied the other bot. “Nothing to bargain with, no energon.”

Thundercracker hissed, and his engine rumbled dangerously, just hints of his outlier ability. 

“We’ve helped you many times in the past, without asking for more. Just one medical grade cube, that’s all we need.”

This time, Swindle seemed a bit more apologetic. “Nothing around here is free. Better get used to that. I’m sorry, but I can’t help you.”

Frustrated, Thundercracker turned tail and stormed in the opposite direction. He didn’t like having to use violence to get what he needed, but if no one was willing to help, he knew what his last resort to be.

Turning down another dingy corridor, Thundercracker stopped abruptly. A dark shape emerged from the shadows, and his optics strained to identify the other mech.

”I see you’re looking for something.” Ravage’s voice became identifiable. “I have a proposal for you.”

Thundercracker stared her down warily. It’s not like the beastformer was any more generous than Swindle.

”What do you want?” he questioned, voice deliberately cold.

Ravage purred. “I know you need energon. I’m willing to make a deal with you — leave the other Casseticons out of this. I know what a mech can do when they get desperate. I’ll get you a cube, but you need to swear on your trinemate’s life that you will not threaten Rumble, Frenzy, Laserbeak, or Buzzsaw to get what you need.”

Thundercracker’s wings lowered. He hated being put in this position. It wasn’t like he wanted to hurt any of them — he would feel really bad doing it, but taking the option away completely as a final resort wasn’t a good choice.

”Can I think on it?” he settled on, finally. 

Ravage did not seem to like that idea, but agreed anyway. “Two stellar cycles. Meet me back here and return your answer.”

He nodded, and continued the trek back to their habsuite.

Punching in the code and feeling the exhaustion drag at him, Thundercracker stumbled into their hab with none of his usual grace. Walking over to his trine, his spark felt like it melted a little seeing Skywarp curled up around Starscream.

A splotch of dried energon was present on one of the sheets, and he winced. Better make a decision on where to go from here sooner than later. For now, recharging with his trinemates looked very warm and inviting, and he gave into the urge.

Thundercracker crept up to the berth as silently as he could, and slid into the area. Unconsciously, Skywarp wrapped an arm around him, and Starscream seemed to cuddle up to both of them like some sort of leech. 

Definitely not the worst place to be, and he wouldn’t trade it for the world.

Chapter Text

Everything hurt.

Starscream powered on his optics warily, and took in the scene around him.

White. Snow. Ice. It was dangerously beautiful.

Reflective light bounced all around him, and despite the ache from deep in his frame Starscream regarded his surroundings with awe. Cautiously, he took a few tentative steps forward. The snow beneath his pedes crunched delightfully.

"Starscream!"

He turned around to face the voice, and Skyfire was there. Was this a dream, or a memory? Starscream hissed to himself as he loped his way over to the other mech.

Skyfire had started talking, "... and I'm sure these last few readings will fill out our graph as intended. There's no harm in staying a bit longer than planned, no? We aren't on a tight schedule."

Something struck his spark with panic at that thought. While his processor was telling him it would be alright, they can indulge in Skyfire's whims just this once, his core seemed to reject that idea with vitriol. 

"I don't know," Starscream replied, caught between the warring thoughts running through his mind. "It could be dangerous."

Skyfire laughed lightly. "Dangerous? We haven't seen anything of the sort despite being here a good klik or two. And the weather is lovely, despite the slight chill."

Slight chill. Starscream scoffed. The shuttle wasn't the one who had to deal with the cold, mister space-grade-plating. In contrast, Seekers were built to go fast. That kind of reinforcement would would only slow him down.

The panic at the suggestion hadn't died down, however, but Starscream had to admit Skyfire had a point. They hadn't encountered anything that could possibly pose a threat to the two of them, and this planet's sun was beaming down on them merrily.

"Okay," Starscream acquiesced. "But only to get those last data points. No sightseeing."

"Woo!" Skyfire was obviously ecstatic. "You got it!"

Starscream smiled as he fell into a rhythm with his partner as they worked the assembled machinery, recording readings of energon from beneath the planet's surface. It seemed to coalesce at the poles. 

Time passed, and dark clouds started to roll in overhead. Starscream's wings flicked worriedly as he looked up at the sky.

"Skyfire," he urged.

The shuttleformer looked up, and sighed. "You're right, it's probably time to go now. I just finished. Help me load the equipment into my bay and we can go?"

"Of course."

As soon as Skyfire assumed his alt, Starscream hastily but carefully began restoring the equipment to it's spots aboard Skyfire. The task felt like it took a very short amount of time, but by the time they were done the darkness had covered any remaining slivers of sunlight or blue sky. Time to go.

Starscream transformed, following suit, and the two lifted off just as a warning crackle of thunder sounded around them. 

:: There’s enough space for you to go in my hold, if you’d like? :: A static-y comm from Skyfire sounded off.

:: I prefer flying, :: Starscream responded, punctuating his statement by flying in a tight loop around the shuttle once to demonstrate. Skyfire didn’t respond, but Starscream could sense his amused field.

The ache in his frame was still there, but less so, as if it was numbed by the cold.

The pair had hardly been flying for very long when the storm cover got even worse. Visibility was almost none, and Starscream swore to himself.

:: We may… need to land, :: Skyfire commed him once more, glyphs breaking up with the interference.

:: We can make it. :: Starscream returned, sure of his ability.

Shooting off, it didn’t take long for him to break above the storm and into the atmosphere. Starscream indulged in a celebratory flip, but when he turned around to where his partner should be, there was empty space.

:: Come on, slowpoke :: Starscream sent to Skyfire.

No response.

Starscream figured he was just concentrating on navigating, and gave it a few kliks before trying again.

:: Skyfire? Are you on your way? ::

More silence.

:: Skyfire, come in. Respond. Are you there? ::

Starscream couldn’t take it. He dipped below the stormclouds once more, scanning for his partner. Again and again, he sensed nothing in the vicinity.

”Skyfire!” Starscream howled aloud in a desperate bid to get through to the other, voice lost to the roaring of the storm around him.

Thundercracker wasn't panicking. He wasn't. 

Okay, maybe a little bit.

What else are you supposed to do when you're awoken from your tense recharge by loss-hurt-pain-confusion-heartbreak being unconsciously projected very loudly over the trinebond? 

What should he do? Waking Starscream would be even more of an ordeal, especially to get him to go back into recharge, and with his injuries he couldn't really afford to be doing that. Skywarp was no help, he was still out cold. Seriously, it was like he went into his own little world when he was recharging.

Ugh. Okay, he could do this.

"Starscream," Thundercracker murmured, shifting from where he had rolled during the night to blanket himself overtop of the other Seeker. Mentally, he attempted to do the same, drowning out the harsh feelings with comfort and reassurance. 

Eventually, after stifled whimpers and chirps Thundercracker could only attribute as calling out for a mate (what?) died out, their room was once again silent.

Enough time had passed, the coming morning he would have to give his answer to Ravage. Between having to do his duties on scraps of energon, trying to care for his incapacitated trineleader as well as reassure a worried Skywarp, Thundercracker was worn out and a full, fresh cube sounded better than the Allspark right now.

When they awoke, he would talk it over with Skywarp, but he was almost confident the violet Seeker would align himself with Thundercracker's choice. Right now, that fuel was more valuable than any other option they had.

Wings fluttering gently, Thundercracker allowed his optics to dim and gave into the pull of recharge. They were going to be okay. He would make sure of it.

When his internal alarm went off, Thundercracker yawned and almost fell off the berth. It seemed an extra dead weight had attached itself to him during the nighttime. Starscream had all limbs fully strangling him, and Thundercracker huffed a laugh at the unbalanced result. Starscream clearly did not enjoy his pillow moving, and muttered something unintelligible before snuggling closer. Oh, how much everyone in the army would pay to see this sight. Well, they would if they had anything left to pay. The shortages were rough on everyone.

With much effort, Thundercracker began to pry Starscream off. Thankfully, it wasn't strange for the Second in Command to stay holed up in his hab for cycles at a time -- whether working on plans, inventions or just stewing, it was the normality. 

Out of the corner of his vision, Thundercracker saw Skywarp slide out from the position he had taken up during his own recharge; one pede off the berth, one servo under a mesh pillow, one pede thrown usually over Starscream or himself, and wings splayed out haphazardly. Very elegant. 

In the human holovids, they had something called 'coffee' in the mornings that perked them right up. Oh, what Thundercracker would give for a Cybertronian version of that at the moment.

"'Warp," he slurred, still booting up. "C'mere. Got question."

Slow mornings were always nice. Skywarp trudged over and flopped himself over Thundercracker like a ragdoll. Oof.

"R'vage asked me. One cube to leave other Cassettes alone. Deal?"

This probably should wait until they were more coherent, but... eh.

Skywarp nodded lazily from his position in Thundercracker's lap. Starscream seemed put off by losing his spot, but eventually succumbed back to resting.

"Deal."

"M'kay. I'll letter know."

It took them a good deal longer to get ready for the day. Leaving Starscream to recover and bonking Skywarp goodbye as the other mech teleported off to his first shift was a pretty okay start.

Thundercracker strode down the hallway with purpose, and was glad he was left alone. Guess other bots could see he meant business, and left it to lie. Good. He didn't need an interruption right now, he was far too hungry.

Stopping in the same place as last time, Thundercracker sat.

Ravage made herself known not long after that. Thundercracker greeted her with a wing flick.

"Your decision?" The Cassette prodded.

"I'll agree. One cube, full, and we won't drag any of you into it." 

Ravage seemed to assess his sincerity for a moment, before nodding. Apparently she found whatever she was looking for.

"Okay." And with that, she turned tail and left. Thundercracker was a little taken aback, but supposed her subspace wasn't big enough to hold a full cube or she would have come prepared.

It didn't take long, however, for the feline to return, cube in tow. Thundercracker could feel his tanks ache at the sight of it.

Ravage sat back on her haunches and pushed it forward with one paw. "Here."

Thundercracker nodded his thanks, leaning down to pick up the precious cargo to store in his subspace. "See you around."

Ravage didn’t outwardly respond, but Thundercracker knew she understood. It was one of those things that mecha with bondmates understood. Whether it was trine, symbiote-carrier, gestalt, Conjunx, Amica — whatever, it was just common knowledge the lengths you’d go to protect them. Thundercracker wasn’t surprised that Megatron had never understood it, there had never been even rumors about him having a bondmate. Maybe it would do him some good. However, Thundercracker was hard pressed to imagine their leader genuinely and meaningfully caring for someone else. 

Eugh. A shiver wracked his frame. Sappy Megatron? No, thank you.

Shaking off his thoughts, Thundercracker realized he had made it back to their habsuite. Punching in the code once more, he entered, patting Starscream lightly on the wing as he passed by the berth. The other Seeker didn’t even twitch, too deep in recharge. Should that be worrying?

Considering his options, Thundercracker evaluated the empty shelf their rations usually occupied. He plopped it down on one at his cockpit height. He trusted his trinemates not to hoard the cube or have all of it, of course, but Starscream really wasn’t in his right mind…

After a second of deliberation he moved it up to the tallest shelf — level with the tips of his wings and a bit above where Starscream could see to. Just in case.

It was about time to go to his first shift, probably. Woo. So exciting.

Chapter Text

Skywarp kicked his pedes, sat on a rotating chair in their habsuite. In front of him, Thundercracker was carefully doling out the singular cube they had in place of their ration for the next few cycles. Starscream got the largest portion, of course. Not because he was trineleader or anything archaic like that, but because he was hurt and needed to recover before... before. Skywarp didn't really know what was supposed to come next, he wasn't the plan guy. Starscream was, and occasionally Thundercracker. That was why they needed him online so vitally.

Thundercracker flicked a wing, and tugged a little on the trinebond. Skywarp obediently hopped off his chair to teeter over and receive his own bit of the divided cube.

Just the thought of that fuel was like an oil bath, but for his processor instead of his frame. Okay, never mind, that was a weird comparison.

Without spare energy, Skywarp was able to warp far less frequently and the inactivity of his outlier drained him mentally instead. It was pretty much a lose-lose scenario, especially since being mentally drained led to less jokes, more irritability, angrier trinemates...  pretty much all the bad side effects one mech could imagine.

Thundercracker dealt with this too, or at least something similar, though from Skywarp's perspective the other Seeker just seemed to get sadder. 

The cube was sweet, and it had been a while since they had something of the substance. Skywarp thought back to the deal Thundercracker had told hm about, and surmised it was probably from Soundwave's personal stash. Rarely does anything on this dim ship take place without his knowledge, and especially not something so closely involving Ravage his cassettes. Of course, that did mean they wouldn't be getting any of these again any time soon. 

Skywarp savored the last bit of the pure energon.

Thundercracker nodded at him, having finished his own, and together they wrangled the downed Starscream into consuming his own. Somehow. It took a lot of manual moving, and the Seeker was still unconscious by the end of it.

"Well." Skywarp put his servos on his hip struts, and winced when he felt paint chip off. When was the last time he got a new paintjob? Yikes.

”He’ll be alright.” Thundercracker was probably the most average at comforting other mecha, ever. Surprisingly, Starscream was very good at it, and of course unsurprisingly, Skywarp was pretty bad at it. Didn’t mean it didn’t help, though.

Skywarp leaned into Thundercracker, letting their wings and shoulder vents brush and took comfort in the low rumble of his trinemate’s powerful engine and the warmth he gave off.

They would be okay.

Thundercracker sighed and set down the next heavy crate of whatever secret materials were next needed for Shockwave's secret projects. Seriously, who assigned him to this? Definitely not Starscream, given his condition. He stalked along the hallway, totally not brooding. It didn't make use of any of his talents, and was mostly just annoying. He was a high ranking officer, for Solus' sake. He did not need to be treated like a common soldier, doing jobs like this.

Picking up the last crate, he could feel the struts in his arms strain to bear the weight. What was in this?? How was it this small and this heavy? Trust him, Thundercracker knew he could carry a lot of weight. This should be nothing, but it was far heavier. Maybe that was the fuel deficiency getting to him?

Staggering back, and finally outside the spot he was supposed to leave them, Thundercracker was prepared to set them down when --

Crash!

A force hit the side of the package. He startled and dropped the heavy crate downwards, wings flaring out in alarm. Attempting a dodge, Thundercracker activated his thrusters and expelled as much power as he could. It wasn't enough.

Thundercracker dug his fangs into his bottom derma in an effort to conceal the yelp that threatened to escape. He slammed down onto the floor with an even louder crash, and he could feel the sickening crunch of one of his wings beneath his frame. One of his pedes was under the crate, and Thundercracker had to turn off pain receptors in that area or he feared he would offline to conserve energy.

The yellow-gold glow of optics illuminated the space in front of him, and Thundercracker squinted through the multitudes of warnings that flared across his HUD. The pedestepes of an approaching mech seemed to ring double, and Thundercracker couldn’t help but flare his good wing and plating outward and hiss.

”Well! I didn’t expect it to be this easy. A little push, and you were bested by a crate.”

Thundercracker had just enough presence to still feel the hot rush of shame brush through him.

The strange mech also muttered something that sounded like “to be fair, it’s a really dragging heavy crate” but was probably not meant for his audials.

When they stepped out of the shadows, Thundercracker placed the newcomer as a Decepticon, the purple brand making it glaringly obvious. A single slash was ripped through it — a mercenary? Or just an unlucky con? Their plating was scuffed, but otherwise colored in dull tones of grey, white, and browns. How boring.

A ping for help alongside his coordinates was sent to Skywarp subconsciously.

“Look,” they started, oddly conversationally, “It’s been a while since I’ve been back here. Opportunities are limited, but I’m fairly sure your Commander has been… indisposed, and I’m also sure you’ve been raving to take his place.”

Not… really, but this maybe-Decepticon wasn’t a Seeker (a light ground alt mode?) so Thundercracker didn’t really expect them to understand his motives or relationship with Starscream at all. With how much the other was driven up the wall by his position, he was honestly surpsisd that anyone would want it at all. Certainly not him.

“So you see, I can’t let that happen.”

Oh, they were still talking. The pain was a little distracting.

“I know could do a better job. Megatron needs a firm second-in-command and none of you are right for it.”

On and on they went. 

“Who are you supposed to be?” Thundercracker interrupted, pointedly ignoring the unpleasant sensations from his frame.

“Oh! I’m glad you asked!” The mech clapped their serves together excitedly. “You can call me Sabre. I would say it’s nice to meet you, but it really isn’t. At least for you.”

“Uh-huh.” It’s too bad he didn’t have the spare energy to use his outlier safely. It didn’t seem like they were all that dangerous.

“Once I get promoted, I’ll take pity on you, don’t worry.” Sabre proclaimed, one servo pressed over their spark as they pushed their chassis outward in a display of pride. Oddly, it did remind Thundercracker of Starscream.

Thundercracker rolled his optics, and shoved his arm underneath him with a bit of difficulty so that he wasn’t looking so far up at this ‘Sabre’ character. 

“Right,” he drawled, unimpressed.

“You were in my way. Now, I just need to get the third member of your flight-squad out of the way…”

Thundercracker hissed under his breath. Yeah, right. Like it would be that easy to get to Skywarp.

But, speaking of Skywarp —

A shot fired right into the pointy right audial of Sabre.

They recoiled, holding their audial with a clawed servo, staggering back on their pedes. It only took a moment before a long sword was drawn, and Sabre was facing dow his trinemate, null ray against sword.

Skywarp cackled. “Hasn’t anyone told you not to bring a knife to a gun fight?”

Sabre growled and lunged at Skywarp, plating flashing in the low light. 

Skywarp, rather predictably, warped.

He appeared behind his attacker with a chirp as the only warning before his null ray leveled at Sabre’s exposed back and a second shot was fired, striking right in the backstruct.

Skywarp made a grab for the other mech, but they danced away,

“Oh, hello!” Sabre called out, one again oddly friendly. “Isn’t this so convenient! I was just wondering about you.”

“Ha-ha.” Skywarp fake laughed. “I’m sure. Now move out of my way.”

“Sorry, no-can-do.” Sabre shook their helm solemnly. “You both need to be out of the way.”

They lunged again, and Skywarp was caught by the sword down one edge of his wing. Thundercracker tensed, but the wound didn’t seem deep.

Apparently Skywarp was over using his nullrays, because a punch hit Sabre square in the face. Ouch.

When the other mech staggered back, Thundercracker locked eyes with his trinemate and he could see Skywarp taking stock of the extend of his injuries. 

Sabre tried to attack once again, but this time Skywarp’s servo caught them around the neck.

The smaller mech struggled, but Thundercracker could see their energon lines getting squeezed. He didn’t envy them.

A flash of pain reminded him of his current situation, and unbidden, Thundercracker whimpered quietly. Somehow, it was enough to catch Skywarp’s attention, who dropped the coughing Sabre to collapse onto the ground. 

Warping closer, Skywarp fretted around Thundercracker. He used his working wing to point to the crate on top of him, and Skywarp only took a moment to teleport the weight off of him to someone unknown location Thundercracker couldn’t bring himself to care about at the moment. Sorry, Shockwave.

Shakily, Thundercracker attempted to get to his pedes.

He wobbled and almost fell, but Skywarp was there, and he ended up leaning heavily on his trinemate.

His vision blurred, but in the moments of clarity he catalogued that Sabre had apparently cut their losses and left.

The disorienting feeling of being teleported washed over him, and suddenly they were back in their habsuite

“I’m gonna… Just… Over here.”

Thundercracker flopped onto their berth next to Starscream and the world went dark. 

”Okay, so… no.” Jazz shook his helm exasperatedly from where he was leaned against the desk he barely used. “We cannot go behind Prowl’s or Optimus’ back-struts to kidnap a trio of Seekers for the good of Cybertronian kind or whatever you’re trying to propose.”

“Are you sure?” Mirage prodded, servo on hip. “It’ll be worth it.”

Jazz sent him a flat stare.

"Look. I'm sure your life changing experience that permanently altered your view of those mechs is important, and I bet it would work in our favor. But, in the end, they're still our enemies and we can't risk our own sparks to take that chance."

“Although,” Jazz paused for a klik, clearly formulating a plan, “Like I said, there isn’t a way for us to go get them. There isn’t anything against them coming to us though…”

Mirage snapped his digits. “Oh! You’re a genius, Jazz.”

“So I’ve been told,” the other bot replied, amused. “Good enough of a compromise for you?”

Mirage nodded, optics glinting. 

Skywarp curled up on the edge of the berth, wings wrapping close to his frame to avoid accidentally nudging either Starscream’s or Thundercracker’s prone forms.

He wasn’t exactly sure if he wanted to scream in rage or melt in a puddle of his own tears. Neither would fix the situation.

“Okay, think, Skywarp. What would they do?” he asked aloud, and predictably, received no response.

The only thing that came to his processor was his promise to Starscream — “I promise. We can go see the Autobots. Now, please, recharge.”

Ugh. Okay, there was no way that was happening. There’s some other answer.

But…

Skywarp wasn’t the planner. Usually, not much was considered at all before he acted. 

Hmm.

He glanced at his indisposed trinemates again. Starscream lay sprawled out in his usual manner, face scrunched even in his sleep. Thundercracker was a bit more curled up, but Skywarp’s optics kept catching on his mangled wing and crushed thruster. There was no way that felt good.

Dried energon crusted around both of their wounds, and Skywarp bit his derma. They couldn’t afford to waste the energon by bleeding out. 

“We can go see the Autobots.”

No! 

No way.

There was no way.

Right?

Unless —

A grin spread across Skywarp’s face. He had an idea! Not a full plan, but an idea is a good start. 

Chapter Text

Skywarp circled overhead, wings gently angling to guide him on a path around the Autobot Base. The fallen ship gleamed at him, almost accusingly, and he let himself drift down to alight on top of a nearby rock formation, transforming silently.

The hot sun beat down on his dark plating and his wing plating prickled in discomfort. He would have preferred to wait until the nighttime, but there was no time to lose to spare for comfort.

A quick scan of the area down below revealed one Autobot on patrol around the base in this sector — Skywarp identified them as Drift, a speedster and Decepticon deserter. Yuck.

Skywarp hissed to himself, but dutifully kept his temper reigned in and waited for the mech to move past his target before warping down to entry level.

Flattening himself to the wall, Skywarp looked around the corner (wow, it was just like those spy holovids that Thundercracker sometimes watched!) and noted the keypad pattern that Drift punched in to gain entry through the large sliding metal door. 

A few moments of silence, and Skywarp crept up to occupy the same space that Drift had previously occupied. Looking around, he could find two cameras, and promptly shot through both. Perfect.

The first try of the code didn’t work, but on his second attempt the reinforced door slid open.

Victoriously, Skywarp mapped out the inside of the ship. It would be useful in case he needed to teleport over here in the future.

So far in the war, the Decepticons had never launched an offensive directly on the Autobot Base; probably due to Starscream’s undoubtedly good foresight that marked it a bad idea.

But, this wasn’t an offensive attack. It was an infiltration mission! Skywarp was here alone, and he was definitively sneakier than half of the Decepticons he knew.

Ha, imagine Motormaster or Astrotrain trying to sneak anywhere. 

Skywarp slipped into the shadow of an unused room, moving out of the main hallway he had entered though.

Surely there had to be vent access somewhere, right?

Skywarp’s optics scoured the room — there! An unassuming, small, grey vent. Just what he was after. 

Activating his thrusters, Skywarp stretched out a servo and deftly hooked one claw into the mechanism holding it in place. It only took one strong tug to budge and Skywarp bit his glossa when it fell downwards, catching it right before it hit the ground.

He sighed in relief, and gently set the metal grate on the floor. 

Okay.

Now to get it.

Skywarp appraised the vent. He could fit in there, probably.

One warp later, his wings were awkwardly pressed up the enclosed sides of the metal venting that ran through the Autobot’s ship-base.

Wow, he hated this. Confined spaces were no good for Seekers in general, but this just made his usual claustrophobia worse.

Skywarp mentally resolved not to take longer than necessary to do this. Not that he had schematics or anything helpful to actually tell him where the energon he needed was, but they have to store it somewhere, right?

Right. 

Crawling down the vent was slow work, especially trying to do it undetected.

The first entrance Skywarp passed over led to an empty room with a few sparse bits of furniture. It looked oddly homely, or at least more so than the empty rooms on The Victory. Trust him, he would know, he’s cleaned those or shuffled items in and out enough to know.

Carefully placing his limbs to avoid putting weight on the grate, Skywarp continued his little journey. 

A few dings, bangs, and odd turns later, the next vent Skywarp came into contact with led to an inhabited space. 

“…told him that he shouldn’t. Why does no one ever listen to me?” A medic — First Aid —  was complaining below.

“Sorry, ‘Aid. I’ve gotta say, it might be due to your, uh. Less-than-intimidating personality,”  Some mech that Skywarp couldn’t identify responded.

“And what is that supposed to mean?”

“Maybe try channeling your inner Ratchet?” Mystery mech suggested.

First Aid grumbled.

“Yeah, like that!” 

One fang dug into his lips as Skywarp judged what to do. 

The risk of crossing over the vent might give him away either by them seeing him or hearing him.

Okay, he’s Skywarp. He can warp.

One perfectly timed teleport later, Skywarp was successfully on the other side of the grate, and the sound of his outlier was covered by an indignant response from First Aid below.

Skywarp continued on this way for longer than he would have liked, until eventually —

Woo! 

Below him was definitely what he needed. A room, with crates of energon. Processed energon. His tanks hurt just looking at it.

Skyfire shifted the blueprint around on his desk, as if looking at it from a different direction would help him decipher it better.

Squinting his optics didn’t seem to work either.

Hmm.

The diagram was messily drawn, and the notes next to it were nearly unreadable, and written with what he could only assume was slang.

Slang that he didn’t understand. Because he just recently defrosted after being frozen for millions of years. 

Skyfire sighed.

The schematic seemed to bore into him the more he stared at it.

Supposedly, the Autobots had gotten possession of this and a few others after a spy-raid on a Decepticon outpost, and believed it to be some kind of super-weapon, and consequently entrusted it to Skyfire to figure out how to stop.

The only Decepticon scientist Skyfire knew of was Starscream, but neither the style of blueprint or servo-writing matched the flier. Trust him, he would know.

Back at the Academy… Starscream would often wait until the last minute to get his work done, and somehow complete it in perfect, neat, writing, and get full marks every time. It was something that used to irritate him, but over their time rooming together, Skyfire began to respect it. The first time Starscream caught sight of Skyfire’s acceptably readable notes the Seeker took it onto himself to fix Skyfire’s writing, whatever it took. Well, it did rub off on him, eventually.

Point being, he knew what Starscream’s work looked like, and it was not this.

Skyfire let his helm bounce off the desk. 

His arms came to rest under his chin, and he stared forlornly at the multiple lights it took to illuminate his work station.

Not that he would go back to the Deceptions if given the chance (he was very grateful to Optimus Prime’s ability to see past brands) but he missed Starscream. He missed being able to bounce ideas off of the other flier, he missed their late night talks that went deeper than conversations usually went, and above all he missed the comfortable presence. 

Skyfire sighed again.

Skywarp yelped in surprise as the doors to the storage room he was in opened with a hiss.

The few cubes he had managed to snag clattered to the ground as his fists and null rays pointed towards Jazz.

Jazz shook his helm. “Wouldn’t do that, if I were you.”

Skywarp’s wings angled upward on his back, and he lifted an optic ridge at the Autobot Third.

“I’m not the only one here,” Jazz explained conversationally. “You wouldn’t get very far.”

“Hello? I can teleport.” Skywarp replied, incredulously.

“Not for long!” Was Jazz’s cheerful response. 

What?

A weight seemed to pull at him, and Skywarp growled as the force pushed him down onto one knee.

As if noticing his furious gaze, Jazz pointed to four devices located in each corner of the room. “Magnetic field. It disrupts your outlier, makes it impossible to teleport because you can’t get a read on your current location.”

Well, slag.

Oh, what kind of idiot would have the idea to steal from the Autobot base? Skywarp was currently regretting all of his choices up until now.

Jazz’s visor seemed to glint smugly down at him, and Skywarp gave in. Guess he had fallen right into their trap.

“You did pretty well,”Jazz added. “Your mistake was underestimating the amount of cameras Red Alert has hidden around the base.”

Skywarp just growled.

Mirage knocked politely on the wall before stepping around the corner, coming face to face with the cell Skywarp was contained within. He greeted the current guard on duty, Springer, before making his way close to the cell as he dared.The magnetic field around it washed over his plating with an uncomfortable touch.

The caged Seeker stared him down head on, red optics meeting blue, while he sat upon the ground with his wings to the back of the cell. 

Mirage waved, then immediately regretted it when all that it caused was a snarl from the Decepticon. Skywarp turned away from him to face the wall of his jail. A little dramatic.

Waking up to the bars didn’t seem to do any good, but he was optimistic to Skywarp being more likely to talk than either of his counterparts. Thundercracker had a reputation for being stoic, and Starscream was difficult at best.

“Okay,” Mirage started, “Let’s chat.”

“I don’t want to,” Skywarp responded, rather pettily, and continued to stare at the not-very-interesting wall.

Mirage sighed. “You don’t have much of a choice. You want to see your flight-partners again, right?”

This got Skywarp’s attention. “What are you talking about?” His voice was low and threatening, and Mirage resisted the urge to shudder and shouldered through the conversation.

“The other two. Starscream and Thundercracker. I don’t know what their relationship is to you, but you obviously care about each other. So, I ask again, can we talk?”

“You’re mistaken.” Skywarp’s fangs glinted in the low light. “I care only about myself and the Decepticon cause.”

If that wasn’t a practiced response than Mirage wasn’t an intelligence officer.

Mirage studied him for a moment. The Seeker held his gaze evenly in a silent competition, but his plating was dull and optics dim, unlike their expected vibrant crimson. 

“You don’t have to lie to me,” Mirage started, ignoring the tensing of the enemy in front of him, “I’m not going to hurt them to get to you.” 

Usually it was inadvisable to state your intentions straight-up in his field of work, but he had a feeling that more lies or workarounds would make Skywarp even less willing.

Transparent it was, then. Ha, just like his outlier.

“Please? I want to help you.”

“I don’t need help.” Was the tense response.

“You do. Otherwise, why would you be here, attempting to steal fuel from the heart of the Autobot Cause? You needed to raid a place where there would be guaranteed energon, because you don’t have time to fail your mission.”

Skywarp’s expression was unreadable. Mirage put his servos up in a placating gesture as if facing down a wild cybercat. Which was, in a way, accurate, he supposed. 

“Will you at least listen to me, now?”

Skywarp answered with a short nod. Alright. Time to negotiate.

“How about a deal? You are… obviously unsafe, or at least living in poor conditions, and I know we can fix that.”

Skywarp looked almost incredulous. “Are you offering us asylum?”

Mirage nodded. “In exchange for terms and conditions, of course.”

Skywarp shook his helm. “Okay, say I believe that, what’s in it for you?”

“You hold a high rank within the army,” Mirage pointed out. “Having you off of the enemy battlefield is a great advantage to us.”

“I know that,” Skywarp said dryly. “Starscream is Air Commander, and in my opinion, the only reason why our plans have a chance at success.”

His servo tapped on some of the plating on his legs, and it momentarily drew Mirage’s attention.

“You could just just kill us,” Skywarp advised, rather morbidly. “Less resources involved, you still get your same advantage.”

“That’s not the Autobot way,” Mirage returned. “Also, I don’t believe you’re bad mechs.” 

Skywarp scoffed.

“It’s my truth,” Mirage encouraged, “And I think you might not totally be against it.”

No response.

“Think about it,” he added. “I don’t know your situation fully, but I don’t think time is something you have in spades. Let your guard, or me, know when you have a decision.” 

More silence. Mirage resigned himself to waiting, and quietly exited the holding cells.

Chapter Text

Thundercracker sighed, and stretched his wings out to feel the struts crack. That was an indicator of a good recharge, usually. 

His optics cracked open, a soft red glare igniting across their metal-mesh berth coverings. Made sense, he was at their hab. It would all be okay.

Thundercracker flipped over and was faceplate-to-faceplate with Starscream, and it seemed that was the trigger.

Multiple wounds on his frame flared up in pain, and he hissed, trying not to cry out. Alerts popped up, almost covering his HUD, and Thundercracker immediately wished he was back in recharge.

Blearily, he reached around him with a servo, but it seemed his only present trinemate was Starscream, and to be expected considering his trineleader’s current condition.

Where was Skywarp? On duty somewhere?

Thundercracker used up his last bit of energy to cast out his senses along their bond, and his last sensation before falling back into unconsciousness was panic.

Skywarp wasn’t nearby.

“Ready to talk, yet?” Hot Rod, Optimus’ prodigy-slash-apprentice drawled from outside his cell. Skywarp rolled his optics, then closed them, to focus.

He could feel a slight tugging on his trinebond, then panic. Then, nothingness. 

Thundercracker?

Skywarp growled to himself. Why, why was he so stupid? Not that it was out of character for me, he recognized internally, but I should have been better.

The doors that led to the room that held his cell slid open with a whoosh of air, and Skywarp slid open an optic that landed on the light and slight plating of Drift.

The Autobot entered the room rather silently, and made his way towards Hot Rod with a small smile.

“Drift!” The fiery speedster greeted, and punctuated his exclamation with a gentle punch to the other’s shoulder pauldron. 

Drift laughed. “Hey, Roddy. Unfortunately not here to get you off shift, but I had some free time and it sounded like you could use some company from your messages.”

“You bet!” Hot Rod’s optics gleamed. “This slagger won’t talk to me at all. Like, come on. A harmless chat would be nice.”

“Most Decepticons won’t,” Drift mused. “We were taught silence is the way to remain ‘superior to our enemies.’ Although, looking back on it, I think Megatron just didn’t trust us to defect once we realized how much better conversationalists are over here,” he teased, “Most Decepticon interactions include some sort of pain or injury.”

Skywarp rolled his optics again. True, but still rude.

His plating flares out when he realizes Drift has now turned to him and is considering him.

He can break his vow of silence for an ex-‘Con, right?

“What do you want.” The question sounds more like a statement. Good. 

Drift’s audials twitch in surprise, and beside him, Hot Rod jumps up. “Woah! How did you do that! I’ve been trying for literally forever to get him to talk to me.”

“Checking to see how you’re faring, Skywarp.” Drift addresses him by name and Skywarp flicks a wing. Two can play at this game, or whatever that saying is. Maybe it’s three when Hot Rod is here.

“Fine.” He responds, clipped. 

Drift puts a clawed servo on a hip strut. “I know about Mirage’s offer,” and Skywarp is about to tune him out, when — “And I think you need some proof, because this is a chance you can’t afford to pass by.”

Skywarp makes a dubious expression at the other, and Drift grins with his fangs.

“Take it from me! I’m happier here than I was. And I have the chance to protect… mecha I care about.” Skywarp would have missed the way Drift glances to Hot Rod next to him if it wasn’t so obvious.

“That’s not very convincing,” Skywarp deadpans. 

Drift nods slowly, and seems to have a quick conversation with Hot Rod over their comms.

“Okay, wait here,” he addresses Skywarp.

Skywarp laughs, unbidden. “Where else would I go?”

Drift waves his servo over his shoulder as he exits the room.

Hot Rod turns to him, and Skywarp groans.

“Looks like it’s just us,” he announces cheerfully! “Okay, new topic, while we wait for Drift. Do youuuu, uh, scare people with your outlier?”

Skywarp laughs again. “Do I ever! Literally the only mech that hasn’t jumped because of a well timed warp is Soundwave, but I think that mech is immune to any kind of response outside of ‘stoic.”

Hot Rod leans closer. “I bet! Wait… does this mean you’ve gotten Megatron?”

Skywarp snickers. “Obviously. Bad idea, mostly. His immediate response was to shoot! Well, right after jumping — further than I thought a tank could jump — into the air, he almost reached Vos!”

“I would have paid to see that!” Hot Rod exclaims, laughing. Maybe this mech wasn’t so bad, after all.

“Why do you ask,” prods Skywarp. “Experience getting scared by outliers?”

“Nah, mech.” Hot Rod flashes him a bright grin. “I’m doing the scaring. Duh”

On cue, flames ignited across Hot Rod’s plating, covering every inch of metal in heat. The extreme light bounced around the walls of the cell, and Skywarp’s plating jumped reflexively.

He was about to respond about how cool that was and how disappointed he was that TC would never use his own outlier to prank when —

“Uh, is this the wrong place?” 

Skywarp’s gaze snapped the entrance of the room once more.

“It’s you.” His vocalizer acted without his input.

Skyfire stared back down at him, optics slightly concerned as the last of Hod Rod’s flames flickered out, leaving them in the neutral lighting once more.

“Hi, Skywarp. It’s been a while.”

Skywarp nodded tentatively. He was tempted to say ‘that it has’, because he’s heard it on holovids and it would probably make him sound smart, but resisted the urge valiantly.

“Why are you here?” he asks instead, flatly.

Drift chooses that moment to work himself around Skyfire’s larger frame, popping out on the other side with a little wave. “I thought hearing from someone else who defected might solidify my story.”

Skywarp levels a deadpan expression at Drift. 

Skyfire seems like he wants to say something, but is stopping himself. Skywarp watches the other mech’s wings twitch uncomfortably for a moment before he sighs and gestures to the shuttle.

“Come on, out with it.”

“What?” Skyfire makes eye contact with him again.

“You’ve obviously got something to say, so, just say it.” Skywarp repeats.

“Uh.” Skyfire hesitates for a klik. “How is Starscream?”

Alarm bells ring in Skywarp’s processor at the lack of alarm he feels at hearing the question. Somehow Skyfire sounds nothing but genuine and it’s making Skywarp uncomfortable.

“He’s fine,” Skywarp lies, badly. 

“Are you sure?” Skyfire pushes. “He hasn’t been spotted in cycles. I’m… worried,” he admits.

Skywarp scoffs. “You’re worried?” He questions, avoiding responding.

“Yes.” Skyfire states simply, and Skywarp can vaguely see Drift and Hot Rod conversing in the background of his vision.

Skywarp sighs and gives up. Not much more harm can be done, right?

“He’s dying.”

“WHAT?” Skyfire’s optics blow wide and his plating flares out.

“Just kidding,” Skywarp smiles, a fang poking out, but his amusement drops directly after. “He’s not dying. But he’s not doing well either. Look, this is why I needed the energon.”

Skyfire thinks on his answer, puzzling it out. “You’re starving?” He questions.

“No!” Skywarp immediately denies. “We’re just… in need of energon.”

“So, you’re starving.” Skyfire repeats.

Skywarp rolls his optics for what seems like the millionth time today. “Okay, fine, sure, whatever you want to call it. Let’s make a deal, you let me go with some energon, and I make sure Starscream lives?”

Hot Rod huffs from the corner. “What kind of deal is that? Why would we take that?”

Skywarp shrugged. “Worth a shot.”

Drift cut in again, “Remember Mirage’s offer? He knows Starscream and Thundercracker are important to you” — Skywarp glances at Skyfire, who doesn’t seem about to reveal the nature of trine relationships to the Autobots, and then back at Drift, who hasn’t seemed to have revealed it yet — “and he’s giving you a pretty good choice here. I recommend you accept it.”

Skywarp cackled. “Okay, say I want to accept this. I’d have to talk to Starscream and TC first, or see them, or even go and get them to bring them here, and there’s no way that can happen.”

”Starscream and Thundercracker can’t move on their own?” Skyfire questions, and Skywarp ignores him.

Drift shook his helm. “Sadly, I think you’re correct in that we cannot make that happen. The decision falls to you, Skywarp. You and those two can leave the Decepticons on Mirage’s generous vouch for you, or you can remain here our prisoner and Starscream and Thundercracker can remain in whatever condition you left them in.”

Frag it all. Stupid Drift, way too perceptive.

“I know you probably don’t care, but for what it’s worth, I’d like to have all three of you here too,” Skyfire chimed in.

“You just want to see Starscream again.” Skywarp replied with as much salt as he could muster.

“I do,” Skyfire started, “but I’m not forgetting you two either. You’re important to him and you were my friends too.”

Skywarp stared for a moment. The sheer honesty of this mech.

“…Let me think about it.” Skywarp ultimately decided.

Skyfire nodded, and left the room quietly. Drift followed, after whispering something to Hot Rod that made the bright mech slap at him playfully as the other left laughing.

After a brief respite of silence, Hot Rod broke the peace with “Just us again, huh?”

Skywarp sighed and went to lie down on his cot. Time to think.

“Come on, Prowler, ya know it’s a good choice.” Jazz replied from where he was laid atop his partner, faceplates smushed into Prowl’s bumper, full weight atop the white mech.

“Mirage is too eager and it bleeds into his demeanor and decisions.” Prowl grumbled.

“Maybe,” Jazz conceded, “but that could be what we need to deal with this situation. Drift assures me that the Seeker-bond is a strong one, but he refuses to elaborate.”

“Why is he hiding it?”

“It seems to be more of a cross between ‘the-Seekers-will-flay-me-if-i-tell’ and ‘its-cultural’ rather than something important that we need to be alert for.”

Prowl nods, and curls his arms around Jazz tighter. “Okay. Still nothing from Skywarp?”

“Nope.” Jazz is only a little sullen at this. “He’ll come around. ‘M sure of it.”

“64%.” Prowl affirms.

“And our chance of turning the tide with them off the Decepticon’s battlefield?”

“82%.”

Jazz whistles. “Some risks are more than worth the payout.”

Chapter Text

Skywarp flopped over and groaned. Hot Rod was on duty outside of his cell once again, and the Autobot was properly annoyed with how many times Skywarp had adjusted his position and complained within the last hour or so.

One of Hot Rod’s optics twitched as Skywarp released another sound. “That’s it.” Hot Rod stalked up to the bars. “First you wouldn’t even speak to me, now you won’t stop talking. Seriously?”

Skywarp flipped over again, lying on his cockpit so that he could kick his pedes in the air. “I’m bored,” he whined.

Hot Rod shrugged at him dramatically. “How is that my fault? You got caught, now you’re stuck here. Come to a decision yet?”

Silence.

Hot Rod sighed. “Okay, how about we talk?” he proposed. “You can… tell me about Decepticon social life. Uh. Do you guys, like, do friends?”

Skywarp stared at him, silently, for a moment, and Hot Rod felt his plating prickle uncomfortably before the Seeker started laughing.

“It’s not that weird…” he mumbled, embarrassed. Skywarp continued cackling and Hot Rod shook his helm, fed up.

“Come on, answer me, or I’ll… leave you to be bored in silence again!” That got Skywarp’s attention, and the purple Decepticon swiped tears of coolant off of his optics before levelling himself to face Hot Rod again.

“Of course not,” he answered casually. “Friends are for loser Autobots.”

“Uh huh.” Hot Rod was skeptical. Didn’t they just have a whole discussion with Skyfire and Drift about how important Starscream-the-annoying and Thundercracker-the-irrelevant were to him?

Hot Rod had a feeling bringing them up to Skywarp might result in the Seeker trying to claw him through the bars of his jail cell. Best not to tempt him.

“How about Conjunx? Got a special someone waiting back for you on your ship?”

Apparently this was funnier than asking about friends, from the way Skywarp couldn’t help himself.

“You… I can’t believe… you’re one to talk!” Skywarp’s glyphs were interspersed with giggles, and Hot Rod could feel himself flush. “No way would I be telling you even if I did, that would just give mechs another weakness to use against us. But, I mean, you’re pretty obvious.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

Skywarp made optic contact with him and Hot Rod shivered. Those optics seemed suddenly a lot more perceptive. Wasn’t Skywarp supposed to be the dumb one?

“You know?”

“Obviously I don’t.” Hot Rod snapped.

Skywarp waved a servo vaguely in the direction of the door. “Your little attack-cyberwolf that was just here?”

“Drift?” Hot Rod questioned incredulously.

“Yeah!” Skywarp affirmed, “Aren’t you Conjunxed?”

“Whuh makes you think that?” he stammered.

Skywarp gestured to him again with a deadpan, and Hot Rod could feel himself flush a little more.

“It’s not like that,” he replied — not very convincingly, based on the way Skywarp’s expression barely changed.

“Seriously!” he urged. “We’re Amica. Nothing more.”

“But you want to be?”

Hot Rod shook his helm. “Okay, nope. Not doing this. Firstly, you’re wrong, and secondly, what I want wouldn’t even matter.”

Skywarp smirked. “But you’re saying you would want that?”

“Well – I –” Hot Rod snarled and a burst of flame came from his mouth. “I am not taking relationship advice from a Decepticon!”

Skywarp held his servos up placatingly. “Okay, okay! But… you are courting an ex-Decepticon, I’m sure I could give you pointers.”

“No!”

Skywarp snickered to himself at the thought of the Autobot with an outlier. Hot Rod had hightailed it out of there as soon as his shift was up, and the new guard – Ironhide – seemed less inclined to talk.

Now. The thing he’s been totally not putting off thinking about — very sobering.

Flashes of both his trinemates injured and unresponsive plague his optics.

Thundercracker, crushed plating and dark optics, a slow spreading pool of energon beneath him.

Starscream, writhing in pain and crying out with no one there to stop him from clawing at his own frame.

Skywarp shook his helm to clear the dark thoughts.

Okay, first off, what would Starscream do?

This is barely even a question, he knows what the answer would be. Obviously, accept, but then double-cross the Autobots later on.

This is a viable option, maybe? But the Autobots have been fairly okay-ish to him, considering their situation. And… that would probably end in them factionless as well, without any support, or back with the Decepticons and the status quo stays the same. Skywarp didn’t know how much more they could handle with the direction this war was going.

What would Thundercracker choose?

This one is a bit less easy to guess. Thundercracker prioritizes their health, always. If he thought it would be safer for the three of them to go back to the Decepticons, then they would go back. But if he thought it would end better with them accepting the offer, then he would accept it.

That isn’t very helpful.

Thundercracker likes to think things through first, sometimes too thoroughly, and Starscream would probably want to hear the terms and conditions first; if only to try and find a loophole he could exploit.

Alright. That’s his first step.

Skywarp shuffled forward, wings giving an anxious twitch, and rapped on the bars gently. He tried to stand, but the magnetic field in this part of the cell seemed too strong to do that, and he settled for an awkward kneeling crouch. Man, he missed his outlier.

Ironhide turned to him with a gruff grunt, and Skywarp waved the digits on his right servo in a teasing way.

“Can you send in Mirage?”

Ironhide masked his surprise pretty well, but Skywarp was a master of facial-expression-identification or whatever the proper term was for it. He had commuted enough pranks to see every emotion known to their kind cycle through the faceplates of his victims.

“I’ll ask,” was the clipped response, and Skywarp shrugged and settled down to wait it out.

It wasn’t long before the door to his room opened with a metal screech and a slam, and Mirage stood in the doorway. His plating pinged with heat, and his vents were uneven. If Skywarp concentrated, he could even hear revving. Huh.

“Jeez, ‘raj,” Ironhide chuckled. “Slow down. I just said the prisoner requested to see you, nothing more.”

Mirage laughed. “Are you kidding? I’ve been waiting for this!”

The blue Autobot stepped closer to his cell, and Skywarp held his servos up placatingly. “Woah, mech, stand down. I ain’t agreed to anything yet.”

“Of course,” Mirage responded smoothly. “What did you need from me?”

“More like I’m asking what you need from us. Your… deal. What would it entail?”

Mirage seemed even more excited, “Okay, good. First of all, we will need an official resignation from the Decepticons. You don’t have to swear in to become an Autobot of course, but the rules and regulations surrounding helping Neutrals are much more lenient than helping Decepticons.”

Skywarp nodded slowly. The thought of removing his brands was a little saddening, but not unreasonable and to be expected. “Okay.”

“I’d assume this would be obvious,” Mirage exvented, “but no communication with any registered Decepticons. No interactions, or you could be considered spies. You will, in return, be provided protection and medical care until you are considered cleared to be making your decision on where to go from here.”

Alright. That didn’t seem like a trick… Starscream was better at seeing those things than him, though. Oh how he wished his trineleader was here right now. The reminder of their states had him grinding his fanged dentae together as he considered.

“Is that all we would be expected to do?”

“What do you mean?” Mirage asked, EM field brushing slightly up against Skywarp, clear with true confusion.

“Uh. Like, you know. Weird stuff. Megatron once tried to made us spar each other because he was bored, but gave up when we wouldn’t really hurt each other.”

Mirage gave him an odd look that he couldn’t quite place. “No, none of that,” he said quietly, and Skywarp shrugged. 

“Okay. I’m all for not doing that, but I need to know what we’re really getting into here.”

“We aren’t trying to trick you. Is it that hard to believe our offer is genuine?” Mirage asked, a morbid kind of amusement in his words.

“We’ve been at war for millions of these Earthen years.” Skywarp replied flatly.

“Okay,” Mirage conceded, “but we don’t need to be.”

It felt a little like treason for his mind to agree with the Autobot. Skywarp didn’t reply aloud for fear his traitorous voicebox would expose his inner thoughts.

Mirage continued despite the gap, “It took me a long time to see what I should have seen all along. We’re just Cybertronians. Different factions, different frametypes, sure. But we’re all the same. And if we continue fighting this war the way we are, there will be no one left to pick up the pieces, no matter which ‘side’ wins.”

Skywarp stared into Mirage’s optics for a long while.

“I’ll accept your offer, but not for any of this. It’s for them.”

“What – just like that?” Mirage questioned incredulously.

Skywarp nodded. “Yeah, just like that. I’ve never been the best at plans and scrap, so Starscream and Thundercracker can hate me all they want once they’re safe.”

Mirage whooped and pumped his fist in the air, before clearing his vocalizer and returning to his proper-guard stance. Skywarp stifled a laugh. He could have sworn he saw Thundercracker do the exact same thing in front of Megatron once.

“I don’t think you have bad intentions, but I don’t trust your faction or your leader,” Skywarp warned. “At the first sign you want to harm us, we’re out.”

Mirage considered for a moment. “Fair.”

Skywarp smirked. Guess soft-sparked Autobots weren’t all bad after all.

“Then it’s a deal.”

Megatron smashed a heavy fist down onto the table where a datapad full of odd calculations rested. Soundwave didn’t react beyond a ping of annoyance to Ravage, who lounged atop his shoulder pauldrons.

“Where is he?” his leader demanded, and Soundwave repeated what he had provided previously.

“Skywarp: out of range of sensors. Likely location: enemy prison.”

“And why is it that our Seeker force has been unable to rescue him or launch another attack to get us fuel recently?” There was a dangerous edge to his voice, and Soundwave wondered for the millionth time how someone so powerful could be so shortsighted.

“Megatron: forbid Starscream medical care. Airforce Second in Command: Thundercracker. Starscream’s trinemate. Assumed incapacitated. Seekers: both locked in command habsuite. Suggestion: appoint temporary commander.”

Megatron seemed to consider his words, but Soundwave could tell his mind was elsewhere. Focused on the Seeker he was so obsessed with.

“Appoint Acid Storm temporary command of the Seeker fleet,” Soundwave was surprised he knew him by name, “and find that Seeker. Starscream has a cycle to report back to me, no matter his conditions. Make sure he receives that message.”

Soundwave nodded and bowed respectfully, before leaving the room. Inside his dock, he could feel the amusement of both Rumble and Frenzy at his inner dialogue aimed at Megatron, thoughts he would never repeat aloud.

“Laserbeak: eject.”

Laserbeak perched upon one of his servos at his call, and Soundwave gave her the order to deliver Megatron’s message to Starscream. As an afterthought, he also asked her to let him – just him, not Megatron – know what condition their second in command was. He did take quite the beating, but Soundwave was not so naive to assume someone that stubborn would fall to something as routine as that.

She shot off as soon as he was finished, and left Soundwave to his contemplative thoughts. A tail brushed up against his mask, and Soundwave reached up to fondly scratch at Ravage. Not completely alone, of course.