Archive of Our Own

Sure, what Jetfire was doing could be considered Optimus Prime’s dirty work, but what did that matter when he kind of wanted to do it anyway?

It was because of rogue Autobot paramilitaries that Jetfire’s home state of Vos fell in line with Megatron and his Decepticons. They were always a problem for the Iaconian bureaucrats, but losing a superpower like Vos was the final bolt that broke the freight-train’s back. It was about time they sent someone to deal with it, and that someone just so happened to be him. 

Of course Jetfire wished it happened sooner. He was an Autobot and now, after a very extended song and dance, a permanent resident of Iacon, but he was a shuttle, a flier, and a Vosian before anything else. Thousands of his kind were killed or maimed during the terrorist assault on Centurion on the fifth of Sunchange a stellar cycle ago, more too in attacks before that, and it was quite transparent to Jetfire that Iacon didn’t think the bloodshed was worth lifting a digit over. Not until the land became Decepticon territory, at least.

Either way, it was best not to dwell, or risk his allegiance faltering. The other Autobots already had their suspicions the day Optimus allowed him into his ranks. 

There was no moon in the sky that night. It was a little past 2600 joors local time on the tiny island of Anderes, north off the coast of Yir. The air was quiet, only coming alive when a breeze weaved through the canopy of the voltaic needle forest and stirred the crackling embers of a dying campfire.

The bodies strewn across the ground were quiet too.

He never sought out to kill anyone, such was the case on every mission he was sent on. That’d be wrong. It was just that when so-called-Autobot terrorist cells saw him approach, they started shooting before he could even think to speak. It didn’t help that they were so easy to dispose of.

Tonight was more of the same when it came to Operation Laelaps. Jazz had procured a tip from the local authorities concerning seven or eight Kalisian Autobot radicals conspiring to plant a series of pipe bombs in the heart of Sahrahex. When Jetfire managed to sniff out their camp, they resisted any form of peaceful mediation and opted, very quickly, for violence instead. They weren’t all too threatening, most members of the militia were radicalised nobodies with little training and plenty of hate in their sparks. Jetfire tried keeping himself from finding too much satisfaction in their demise.

Their guard houndroid was all that was left alive, growling defiantly at Jetfire, despite the shuttle being over thrice its size. Jetfire growled back, and that sent it whimpering and scurrying off into the forest. Now, all that was left to do was gather all the intel he could harvest from the campsite and leave before sunrise. He padded around the clearing and nosed their bags open, stashing any and all evidence away like a data-driven cyber squirrel. 

There was a rustle in the wire-bramble. Jetfire’s helm slowly rose, audials tuning and optics brightening. He flared his massive wingspan and held his tail low and stiff, snarling with bared teeth. The smell was of no mechanimal, it was far too abrasive. Too much oil and ash, a foul stench that clung to the back of his intake. When he stalked towards the sound, the glint of a deep red glare met his own in the darkness.

He set his paws and pounced at the stranger, but someone else slammed into him before he could even touch the intruder, knocking him to the ground.

When his vision sharpened, he found himself face to face with a wiry helicopter with a grey and sandy coloured coat and a toothy smile only a carrier could love.

“Ugrrh! Get off me, you freak!”

Jetfire kicked him off with his back legs, but the helicopter readjusted mid air, slowed himself with a spin of his rotor and landed gracefully on all four paws. He cackled, the shrill call that haunted the Vosian Plateau echoing through the deathly silent forest. 

“Excellent work, young Cyclonus.”

Jetfire’s struts went as stiff as a motherboard. “Megatron…?”

The red glare in the depths of the woods came closer until its owner, a massive tankformer, emerged into the clearing, easily dwarfing the helicopter. Cyclonus, apparently. Jetfire stepped back and swallowed, his vocaliser thickening in his throat.

“Indeed,” Megatron crooned. The growl Jetfire let out wavered a little more than he liked.

“What are you doing here?”

“Why, it should be me asking you that question, shouldn’t it? I was on my way back to Tarn, that’s all,” Megatron explained, so a-matter-of-fact that Jetfire doubted he even registered as a threat to the Decepticon warlord. “Cyclonus saw you enter Vosian air space. Naturally, I thought I should investigate.”

Cyclonus circled him slowly, optics never once leaving their target. From the bushes, another tank came forward; a fairly stout, sturdy mech with a pale yellow paintjob. Demolishor. Jetfire was familiar with the rather dim kiss-aft already.

Megatron scanned the scene before him, a foul smile creeping onto his faceplates. “You treat traitors harshly, Autobot.”

Jetfire reared up onto his two legs, huge wings spread wide, making Megatron small in his full, vast shadow. Even when he had size over him, his racing fuel pump betrayed the very real fear he was trying to hide. “Get lost, treads.”

If he was smart, he would turn tail and run. It was three against one, and one of said three was Megatron. He never considered himself particularly smart, though. 

“What, did you forget, soldier? This is Decepticon territory. I’m privy to it, more than you are, Autobot,” Megatron spoke coldly. He placed a pede on the remains of a Kalisian radical’s helm. Jetfire had crushed it under his pawpad.

“But even I must commend you on an excellent job well done, Jetfire,” Megatron praised, his tone sickeningly arrogant. “I was aware of the Kalisian bomb plot, but I see it is no longer an issue. I should thank you.”

Jetfire’s vents cycled hard, huffing sharply like a taunted nosoron. Cyclonus and Demolishor settled at Jetfire’s right and left, boxing him in. 

“Don’t interfere, Megatron,” Jetfire snarled. Demolishor and Cyclonus stepped forward, but Megatron waved them back. 

“At ease, soldiers.” Megatron inched closer, forcing Jetfire backwards. 

“I’m under orders from Optimus Prime–”

“I’ve been watching your progress, Jetfire,” Megatron interrupted, his deep baritone swallowing Jetfire’s voice whole. “Ever since Optimus took you under his wing as his protegé. I’m impressed by how quickly you’ve managed to scale the Autobot ranks, despite being a flier amongst grounders. I have to admit, I do admire your profound grit and determination.”

“What would you know about my struggle?”

“I know enough about your kind. And I know how it feels to live with a pede on your neck. I see your ruthlessness and fortitude in battle, Jetfire. You possess great strength,” Megatron said coolly. “If you put your mind to it, you could take control of the Autobots. Of Iacon. You could do it quite easily. Get rid of the rot, tear it all down and rebuild it in your image.”

The growl in Jetfire’s intake slowly grew in volume. “I’m not like you.”

Megatron scoffed. “I think we’re more alike than you let on. What have the Autobots ever done for you?”

“Optimus saved me–”

“From your ‘fellow’ Iaconians. They hate you.”

Jetfire bristled, hackles raised, but he couldn’t refute it without lying. Megatron smirked and cocked his head, looking thrilled to find loose threads to unravel.

“What have they ever done for you?”

“They gave me a life–”

“You already had one, did you not? You were well-liked by your clan. All you wanted was a better life for them. That’s why you tried finding work in Iacon. Am I wrong?”

He wasn’t wrong at all. He couldn’t go back home now, to the mountain valley hidden in the shadow of Mount Titanicon’s summit. He was a traitor to Vos and its denizens. Jetfire tightened his jaw, teeth grinding together. Megatron huffed a laugh.

“You would make a fine Decepticon.”

Like a rope pulled far too taut, something inside him snapped.

Jetfire roared, charging at Megatron with claws drawn and fangs bared and so wild with rage, all he could see was red.

I should probably call my trinemates.

Starscream didn’t know why he was thinking about them. He hadn’t thought of, much less talked to his cousins since he was promoted to the Vosian High Command a few orbital cycles ago, it must’ve been. They were all much too old now to still cling to their trine, regardless.

Maybe it was that the other task at hand, filling out a patrol incident report, was so boring that wondering what Thundercracker was doing these cycles seemed more entertaining. He dismissed the mostly empty file on his datapad and collapsed onto his berth, sinking into the soft bedding. Starscream would probably regret putting it off when more reports started to stack up, but that was a problem for a later date.

According to the Decepticon Army Records, which were surprisingly meticulous, Thundercracker and Skywarp were still under the command of Captain Carrion, stationed a few soar-lengths away from his home of Yir. Just as he had been before he was recruited by Commander Windrunner. 

He rolled onto his belly and curled his tail around himself. He wondered if they missed him. The Vosian High Command were kind and treated him well, but he was a long way from considering them family. Starscream drafted a new message.

to: t██████████.████, s██████████.████

How are things? sorry it’s been so long since I’ve checked in. it’s been really busy lately, getting settled in with high command and all.

done any interesting things lately? i went on my first real mission with the high command last deca-cycle. remember skyjump? my friend from my pharmacology unit. i thought he died during the sunchange 5th attack but he was alive and he was working with anti-decepticon rebels to develop bioweapons in arérax… so that sucks. i met megatron again too. he was actually really nice. anyway, talk later

Starscream stared at the unsent message for a while. Had they ever even met Skyjump? He nibbled at his claws.

He had spent countless nights after the Sunchange attack mourning Skyjump’s supposed death, but now that the shuttle was alive, Starscream wishes he’d have stayed dead.

Why he did it, Starscream still didn’t know. He probably never will. Skyjump never cared too deeply about politics, besides when they got in the way of his education. Maybe there was money in it. Maybe he really did hate the Decepticons and Vos for siding with them. Whatever the case, he was in Decepticon custody now, and chances were he was going to be executed. He wasn’t happy about it, but he struggled to feel sad either, despite all they had been through, all the late nights they spent together, studying and laughing and stressing over exams.

It’s a war, he thought. I’d better get used to this. 

Someone pawed at his door and opened it before Starscream could answer. The most senior warrior of the Vosian High Command, Commander Windrunner, was a huge, moss-brown and blue seeker who apparently did not care for privacy. Starscream set his data pad down and rolled out his bedding to his four paws.

“Starscream,” he greeted curtly. His voice was deep, but easy and smooth, like taking off over a thermal column. “We’re requested by the local clan in the outer Venatoran Pass territory. Urgently, it seems.”

Starscream shook himself up and down, loosening up his stiff joints and seams. “What’s going on?”

“Not too sure yet. Ironhowl’s still dealing with the clan elders,” Windrunner answered, padding away into the open air hallways of the Refuge. Starscream followed close behind. “Did I catch you at a bad time?”

“N-no, not at all.”

“Good, because we’ll need the numbers. Blackrush and General Campion are busy dealing with Kalisian radicals in Sahrahex. It’ll just be you, Flashfire, and I, today.”

They reached the war room, where amongst the various Vosian soldiers and Decepticon emissaries working at comms and surveillance stations, was Captain Flashfire and Ironhowl. Flashfire was a tall but skinny, black and white seeker with a sniper rifle slung over his haunches and a serious air about him. Ironhowl, who was sitting at the main communications console and exchanging back-and-forths with someone over wideband comms, was a small– even smaller than Starscream was– grey, blue and yellow seeker with a winsome face and a long, thin tail. Flashfire turned to face the two as they approached, nose crinkled.

“It’s a wounded Autobot,” Flashfire said brusquely. “The preywarden saw him skulking around the local territory. We told them to keep their distance for now.”

Starscream’s brow creased. That’s it? Could they not just leave him to bleed out and die?

“How would an Autobot get on our shores without alerting the border patrol? Have you checked the air space logs for any unregistered arrivals?” Windrunner asked.

“That’s the thing.” Ironhowl closed off his comms and jumped down from the seat, trotting over purposefully. “It’s a shuttle.”

“An Autobot shuttle?” the mere thought sounded perverse on Starscream’s tongue. “What kind of shuttle joins the Autobots?”

His three seniors stared at him like he’d grown a second tail. Ironhowl snickered softly and answered him.

“I can think of one.”

The preywarden of the outer Venatoran Pass territory was a bulky, old seeker with a yellow coat, a red face, and the requisite blue huntschief tattoo around her optic. Starscream remembered running into her as a sparkling when he was still learning to hunt and had strayed a little too far from Yir.

“Airstrike!” Windrunner called for the preywarden, Airstrike, transforming back to quadruped mode and landing firmly on the outlook tower platform. Starscream and Flashfire followed close behind.

“Commander Windrunner, thank you for heeding my call,” she said with a voice deep enough to fill her large frame. She bowed politely. 

“Of course. It’s not too often we see Autobots on our shores,” he replied. He stepped forward and gently greeted her with met helms. 

“Not since we came under the management of the Decepticons, no doubt,” Flashfire murmured, probably loud enough only for Starscream at his side to hear. Airstrike turned to the edge of the tower platform and pointed her snout towards the needleleaf forest at the base of the tower. 

“The locals here saw him by the basalt columns at the territory border,” Airstrike said. “They said he looked in a bad way, but that’s all they could tell me..”

“So I’ve heard.” Windrunner looked back to address his seekers. “Starscream, back me up. Flashfire, bring up the rear. We won’t engage unless we have to.”

Flashfire nodded and took off, transforming and circling around in a wide arc to come up behind the basalt columns. Starscream trailed behind Windrunner, diving off the tower and to the ground underneath the needlepine canopy. The forest came alive with squeaking mechanimals skittering into the underbrush and avianoids flying away as the two weaved through the trees. There, they followed a trail worn into the ground by the paws of hunters that came before them. Starscream came up to Windrunner’s side, engulfed by his large shadow.

“Do they know who it is?” Starscream asked, voice little more than a whisper.

“The preywarden isn’t familiar with him,” Windrunner answered, “though I have my suspicions.”

Starscream hummed ambivalently. Through the rare gaps in the thick foliage, the basalt columns slowly came into view. True to Airstrike’s warning, there was someone there, in a gravelly clearing underneath the towering black rock. Windrunner set a paw in front of Starscream and urged him back, his downward tail signalling him to get low. 

The wounded intruder was, as promised, a shuttle. Shuttles were always huge, but he was a particularly massive example, with a vast white coat, an impressive wingspan, and a red, crested helm. His face was a dark grey with speckles of white across his nose and cheeks, a wide nose, square jaw, and bright, sun-gold optics. 

Starscream swallowed. He was rugged and powerful and quite masculine, but he could tell he was about the same age he was, if not a little older. Handsome. He was very handsome, if it weren’t for the deep, fresh gashes carved into the right side of his face and down his throat to his nosecone. The energon had since dried up, but his coat still lacked colour and sheen, rendering him rather dull in the absence of life. On his chest was the Autobot insignia, covered in his own blood until it was nigh invisible. Windrunner’s optics narrowed. 

‘It’s Jetfire,’ Windrunner relayed through their wideband comms. 

‘Who would’ve seen it coming,’ Flashfire replied flatly. ‘I’m all set up over here. I’ve got him in my sights. If he so much as breathes wrong, I’m gonna shoot him. But do let me know if I need to do it beforehand.’

‘Thanks. Hopefully it won’t come to it.’

Jetfire. The name jogged Starscream’s memory banks. ‘Optimus’ vice commander?’

‘Indeed. Why he has come here, and who did that to him, that’s the question.’

Starscream harrumphed. ‘Well, I don’t care who he is. I’ll deal with him.’

He stood up and leaped over the wirebramble into the basalt clearing before Windrunner could stop him. “Starscream!”

Jetfire slowly turned to look at him, movements languid and heavy. It looked like it took every bit of his remaining strength to even get onto his four paws.

“Traitor!” Starscream snarled, low to the ground with claws drawn. “What are you doing on Decepticon territory, Autobot soft-paws?”

For someone who was as good as dead, he didn’t look too troubled. He offered him an exhausted, half-lidded smile.

“Dying?”

Starscream huffed, straightening up. “Can’t you die on Autobot land?”

To his dismay, the shuttle rasped a laugh, lumbering a pawstep closer to close some distance between the two. The seeker backed up, but stopped Windrunner from interfering with a dismissive wave of his tail.

“I could, but then who would save me there?”

“Save you? I could kill you right now if I wanted to.”

“But you haven’t yet.”

Starscream growled. Was this a joke to him? Windrunner padded over to stand beside him. “Don’t waste your breath, Autobot. What are you doing here? Who sent you?”

“I… I’m on… orders to…”

His optics darkened and rolled back before he collapsed onto his side in a heap. Starscream rushed over to check for signs of spark activity with a paw on his chest. 

“He’s alive, barely,” Starscream said. “What should we do, sir?”

There wasn’t an immediate reply. Windrunner’s lips made a line as he stared at the unconscious shuttle sprawled out on the gravel, optics roving in thought. “I suppose we can’t leave him here.”

From the air, Flashfire and Airstrike joined them, circling Jetfire’s limp body. Flashfire nudged Jetfire’s lifeless back paw and found no resistance. “Well he looks worse for wear. Should we kill him?”

“No,” answered Windrunner and Starscream in tandem. Windrunner coughed awkwardly.

“...No. He may be a traitor, but he is still a flier. We need not to kill our own kind to win our battles, especially when he can’t defend himself,” Windrunner explained. “We’ll take him under our custody. Then we can figure out what he was doing here when he comes to.”

Flashfire groaned, optics rolling. “Great. More faction nonsense to worry about,” he lamented, “I’ll call a medical transport.”

“Thank you, Flashfire.” Windrunner folded his wings against his side, slipped his head under Jetfire’s chest and lifted him over his withers. “Airstrike, Starscream, help me get him to the landing platform.”

Airstrike got Jetfire’s torso, leaving Starscream with his back legs and tail. Even when he was unconscious, Starscream could still sense the sheer power rippling through his muscle fibres– sturdy and unyielding, an ever present threat, despite his current state. Starscream looked to Windrunner for assurance. “Is this really a good idea?”

To that, Windrunner cracked an incredulous smile. “Probably not, but we’ll manage.”

Gaze falling to the ground, Starscream sighed. “Here’s to hoping we can.”

When Jetfire’s optics came back online, the blinding lights of an unfamiliar med-bay greeted him.

“Ahhrgh…”

He tried to shield himself from the glare of too-bright lights, but his paws were weighed down firmly at his side. He growled and turned his helm to the side, scrunching his face tight. His faceplates felt taut, the wounds Megatron had permanently gauged into them pulling at the soft metal with every little twitch of his mouth, snout and optics. 

“Jet… Jetfire…”

Maybe he was dead. His spark was with Azliah now, and he could chase the moon with him until the end-times.

“Jetfire…”

Was it his ancestors calling for him? Coming down from the peak of Mother-mount to collect him?

“JETFIRE.”

“Ahgh?!”

…It was Starscream.

“Split Wing! He’s awake.”

“Hhhuh??”

It took a bit too much effort to refocus his optics and tune his audials until the world wasn’t so unbelievably loud. Now that his processor had sufficiently rebooted, the first thing he realised upon doing so was the searing pain arcing up and down the side of his body, like razor-snake venom racing through his fuel lines.

He hissed through grit fangs, but he couldn’t even lift a paw to self-soothe. He had been chained down to a gurney, and he was far too weak to try to break free.

“Don’t move so much. You’ll agitate your wounds,” Starscream chided, the seeker’s soft voice distracting him from the burn. Now that Jetfire could see, he turned to face what he presumed was his captor. 

While Starscream was a Decepticon, he supposed there were worse bots to be apprehended by. 

He was sitting by his bedside with his paws resting on the gurney railing. There was no discernible expression on his white, markingless face, but that meant he at least wasn’t scowling bitterly like he was at the basalt columns. He was very easy on the optics, that was for certain, with a rich, crimson coat, subtle tabby stripes on his shoulders, haunches and tail, and off-white and black trim. He held his sleek wings high and unfolded, proud and elegant, even if it was to make the particularly small seeker look a little bigger than he really was. Not to mention his face, with a small, tapered snout, soft lips, and a striking, sunset-orange stare. And a nice, slender chassis to boot. It’d be easy work for Jetfire to wrap his forelegs around him.

Starscream let out a low growl in the pit of his intake. “Excuse me. I’m talking to you.”

Jetfire’s optics widened. His lips had been moving this entire time. He had been joined by another seeker too, and Jetfire didn’t even remember when they got there. “Sorry. I’m… I must’ve hit my head when I fell.”

The other seeker, a jet with a coat that was almost perfectly split between tabby orange and solid black down their middle, shook their head. “We checked. You were lucky to escape whatever it is you were doing without damage to your processor unit.”

Starscream’s wings pinned flat. “Oh good. So he’s just like this all the time.”

Jetfire would find time to be offended later. “Hey… uh, where am I, and can you like… let me out of these?”

He jostled his paws around, rattling the shackles.

“I was just telling you–” the words stalled in Starscream’s vocaliser, and he restarted after a cycle of his vents. “You are–”

“You are in the medical den of the Refuge, Great-wing Jetfire.”

The two berthside seekers clamped their mouths shut and shuffled aside like a transformation seam parting, clearing the way for a giant, ancient brown seeker, almost the size of a shuttle, to stand before him. The elite Vosian warriors Commander Windrunner and Captain Flashfire were at his side, stern and dutiful as ever. Jetfire’s jaw fell open. “General Campion, sir!”

“Indeed, that is my name,” he replied with a glimmer of amusement in his golden gaze. “I apologise for interrupting you, Starscream, Split Wing.”

The two seekers bowed their helms gently. “There’s no need for apologies, sir,” Split Wing, the black and orange seeker it seemed, assured. Jetfire had seen General Campion, most fliers have. He was the de facto guiding paw of Vos, as Azliah’s last living disciple. But he’d never been so close. He seemed even more magnificent at this distance, so much so, he radiated a nigh-tangible regal aura. 

“You are here in Centurion,” Campion elaborated. “Windrunner and his team brought you here from the Venatoran Pass territories. You were gravely injured.”

Split Wing drooped their shoulders. “We did what we could, but those scars might be permanent.”

Jetfire frowned, feeling said scars tug uncomfortably at his faceplates. “Is it bad?”

“You’ll live,” Starscream deadpanned. 

“Hmm. Well, thanks for saving my rump out there… I would’ve been a goner.”

“Enough with the pleasantries.” Flashfire trotted forward. He was a rather gaunt seeker with a sharp face and a sharper attitude. “What were you doing on Vosian shores? Did the Autobots send you?”

“Uh, well… that’s classified information–”

“Don’t forget, you’re in Decepticon territory now, Autobot,” Windrunner reminded. “You are our prisoner, and you will be treated like one.”

“Yeah, I…” he jostled his chains, “I realise that.”

“Good. So why were you here? With those wounds, I doubt you were visiting family,” Flashfire said.

Jetfire’s optics flitted nervously between the five seekers at his berth. His intake suddenly felt dry, the bitter taste of panic flooding his tongue. “Uh…”

Operation Laelaps, despite being a net positive for the Vosians, was still classified under Autobot security protocol. He nor Optimus could risk information leaking out, lest it stir up the radicals even more so. Flashfire cycled hard through his snout.

“Speak.”

“Alright! Alright, if I tell you, can you undo these cuffs? My nose is itchy.”

Windrunner and Flashfire exchanged tacit glances. Maybe they were speaking over narrowband. Eventually, Windrunner offered a nod for an answer.

“Very well. But we will kill you if you even think of resistance,” Flashfire said. “You will tell us everything.”

“I will! I will, I promise. Far out…” Jetfire slumped his helm back against his pillow and slowly shut his optics off. 

He told them everything. Or, mostly everything. About Operation Laelaps, about the Kalisian bomb plot, about Iacon finally doing something about the nascent radicalism that was rising in the Autobot ranks. Not about Megatron kicking his rump, though.

Campion’s helm slowly dipped down as he spoke, like information was weighing his processor down.

“I see. Interesting…” Campion droned. “Though I’d have preferred the Autobot high command had done something before the Sunchange attack on Centurion, I suppose late is better than never.”

“That’s what I said– ooph…” Jetfire had tried to sit up, but the pain had him back on his back quickly. Starscream set a gentle paw on his shoulder, claws drawn, to keep him down. “So, can you undo the cuffs now?”

“Not yet,” Windrunner said. “Tell me, who or what did that to you?”

He pointed a claw at his scars, and Jetfire felt his fuel tank sink. “Uh…”

He chewed on the inside of his mouth. What was he supposed to say? That Megatron spotted him on a covert mission on enemy territory- their territory, and instead of doing the smart thing and fleeing, he challenged him and got his aft utterly and inarguably handed to him? The thought of Megatron’s razor sharp antlers tearing through his chassis like claws through buzz-moth silk sent a shiver quaking down his struts.

“The Kalisians gave me a run for my shanix,” he lied. It was a little embarrassing to pretend the weak radical wheelers could leave even a mere dent in his thick hide, but it was better than telling them he tried to kill their new leader. Windrunner furrowed his brow, jaw clenched.

“If you say so.”

“They’re uh, all dead though, if you’re worried about that. The Kalisians.”

“That’s good. Starscream, Split Wing, you may undo his shackles,” Windrunner ordered calmly. Split Wing circled around the gurney to undo his cuffs on one side, and Starscream took care of the other.

Flashfire’s wings twitched downward. “You’re really setting him free?”

“Hardly,” Windrunner said. “We need to free this bed up. Kaonese troops are coming in from the north with their wounded in the next orbital cycle.”

Though he unfastened the gurney-bound chain, Starscream kept one last cuff around the shuttle’s left backpaw. Jetfire splayed out his toes, pawpads outward. “Missed one.”

“I did not,” Starscream shut him down promptly, "you may be free to roam, but make no mistake, Jetfire. You are still a prisoner. We have to track you somehow.” He shot him a look. “And don’t try gnawing it off.”

With the shackles undone, Jetfire was free to roll onto his belly and paws, before jumping off the gurney. He stumbled slightly upon standing, but Starscream pushed against his side before he could lose balance completely. The little red seeker was nearly half his size, and a few whiskers shorter than the other seekers around him, but he was still strong enough to support his massive frame. He was coloured impressed. With his bearings straightened, he looked to General Campion for guidance.

“You will remain here, in the territory of Centurion, under our watch,” Campion said, “until we negotiate fair conditions for your return to Iacon. Starscream, I’m trusting you to look after him. You never know, it might be good experience, dealing with a prisoner.”

“Hmph. Great, I’m thrilled,” came Starscream’s clipped reply. Campion managed to smile anyway.

“Excellent. Take him somewhere safe,” Campion said. “And do try to refrain from killing him.”

Starscream snickered cheekily. “I don’t make promises I can’t keep.”

“The things I do for Split Wing,” Starscream grumbled. “In a perfect world, I’d have you locked to that gurney until Iacon came knocking for you.”

At least in Starscream’s ‘perfect’ world, he was still alive, so that was a win in Jetfire’s books.

With the medbay left behind, Jetfire found himself stuck with Starscream as a very reluctant guide as the little seeker led him through the Refuge. It would’ve been a good time to gather intel for the Autobots, but Starscream must’ve thought the same thing, because he purposefully skipped every single room of even the slightest importance. 

“So, Starscream…” Jetfire rolled his helm back. “Where are you taking me?”

“I’m not taking you anywhere. You’re just… coming with me.” 

Jetfire flattened his wings. “I fail to see the difference.”

“I don’t care. I’m going to my quarters.”

He cocked a brow. “Oh my, lucky me.”

Starscream hissed at him over his shoulder, and Jetfire couldn’t help but flinch. “Don’t get the wrong idea, Autobot pet. I have work I need to do.”

“Sure, sure.”

The little seeker made an exasperated grunt and looked away, saying nothing else. That was alright, Jetfire was perfectly fine watching Starscream’s rump anyway.

While his attitude left something to be desired, Jetfire could look at the red seeker all day. He moved effortlessly, so graceful and confident, haunches swaying with every step. And maybe Jetfire could get used to his fierce demeanour.

He shook his helm. It was best not to get too enamoured by the enemy. He could just see the look on Optimus’ faceplates if he caught him ogling at a Decepticon. 

The windows to the Refuge’s many landing docks let a pleasant breeze in. It was a far cry from the stuffy buildings in Iacon, where windows were so rarely opened, they had sealed themselves shut over time. He didn’t have to fold in his wings tightly to walk through halls or worry about his tail knocking things over. The air was clean, there was no smog or road debris, and when he looked beyond the towers of Centurion, he could see swathes of green. 

Iacon was nice, but the jungle of grey roads spanning every little nook and cranny made his flier spark hurt. 

“I know it isn’t on the greatest terms, but it’s nice to be back home, you know?”

For once, Starscream didn’t immediately try and bite his head off. Instead, he slowed, letting Jetfire walk beside him. “I take it you haven’t been in Vos for some time.”

“...No. The Autobots don’t plan missions out here too often either,” Jetfire said. “Too remote. Too close to Tarn, too.”

He found himself staring through a window to a landing perch. Starscream must’ve noticed, because he circled around to stand in front of it.

“Would you like to come fly with me?” Starscream asked. Suddenly, his cold disposition seemed to melt away, voice softening. Jetfire blinked, jaw held slightly ajar.

“...Would I?”

And then Starscream rolled his optics and scoffed. So much for getting a glimpse of his sweeter side. “It’s a yes or no question, you big idiot.”

“Then… s-sure, I’d love to.”

“Spare me the turbopuppy stare. I’m being nice because Campion needs me to,” Starscream said, though his tone lacked much bite. He trotted over to the landing perch, angling his ailerons and flaps for take-off. He beckoned Jetfire over with a tail-tip flick.

“Didn’t you have work to do?” Jetfire asked, a cocky smirk making itself known on his scarred faceplates.

“It can wait,” Starscream muttered, pouting indignantly. “Follow me, or I’ll rip out your throat. And get rid of that Autobot badge while you’re at it.”

That was a good point. Starscream leaped from the window and dove, thrusters powering on as he arced back upwards. He hovered in front of the window, waiting for Jetfire to come with.

“Don’t have to tell me twice.” Jetfire reared up to unfasten his Autobot badge- the shame that would come with that, he’d grapple with later- and stashed it away in subspace. 

The breeze whisked by him, caressing his chassis with the promise of the sky. He dropped from the window and caught an air current up with Starscream. The little red seeker smirked and raced away, a wordless invitation to follow. Jetfire was all too happy to please.

“By the way, no transforming,” Starscream advised, cruising leisurely to let Jetfire close the distance between them. “That tracker cuff on your leg would jam you up mid sequence.”

“No kidding.”

Jetfire banked through the towers of Centurion, following the swirling white trails left behind Starscream’s winglets. Seekers were known for their speed and agility, but Jetfire had never seen anyone slice through the air so easily, even in quadruped mode. Jetfire had to push hard to keep up.

“I guess it could be worse,” Jetfire supposed, glancing at the cuff holding his back paw down. “You know, when I first joined the Autobots, I had to wear a GPS collar.”

The look on Starscream’s face was that of genuine concern, for once. He closed the gap between them as they soared over the city to the border, where Centurion ended and The Great Moor began. “Why would they do that?”

“Same reason you put a tracker on me. They didn’t trust me,” Jetfire reasoned. “I guess it’s funny. No matter where I go, it’s the same story.”

“Cry me a river. Should’ve thought about that before you left Vos for Iacon,” Starscream sneered. “Why did you even think to join the Autobots? You know how they feel about our kind.”

He twirled around Jetfire, inspecting him at all angles like that would explain it. “I didn’t want to leave Vos. My clan needed funds to rebuild after an avalanche, and as their Great-wing, I was the one they needed to step up, y’know? I looked for work as a space guide in Iacon. I heard it was easy money for shuttles,” Jetfire explained. “I ran into some trouble, and Optimus saved me. He paid me everything my clan needed when I told him about what happened. I owed him, that’s all. That’s why I’m an Autobot.”

Starscream didn’t say anything for a while, letting his words hang in the air as they cruised over the vast green expanse. The solar-heather went as far as the horizon, shimmering with the wind below the deep azure sky, where soft, white clouds whisked on by. Eventually, the little seeker powered forward, circling around Jetfire and stopping in front of him, forcing him to ignite his thrusters backwards before they collided.

“You know, I’ve heard of you before, Jetfire,” Starscream started, helm cocked. “That you were some vicious warrior who struck fear into the sparks of your enemies, that you alone could wipe out entire platoons with only claw and fang. You were Optimus’ protogé, his vice commander after only a few stellar cycles.”

Jetfire’s faceplates split with a prideful grin. “Yep.”

“But now that you’re here, I struggle to believe the stories. You’re far too soft-pawed. I find it hard to imagine someone like you with blood on their claws.”

The smile dropped from his lips like a lead balloon. “Is that what you think?”

To that, Starscream just smirked and turned, flying off. Chase me.

Jetfire would, gladly. He kicked off the air and raced after him. He knew he was no match for the little seeker’s speed, Starscream hardly needed to try to escape Jetfire’s reach, but endurance could be the winning factor for him. Or maybe, charisma. 

“I’ve heard stories about you too, Starscream,” Jetfire managed over the shriek of wind beating down on the two. Starscream chuckled, rolling in circles around the shuttle.

“Have you now?”

“Oh, yes. I’ve heard of a young, noble sword-seeker, who joined the Decepticons to avenge his land,” Jetfire said, watching with glee as Starscream slowed to sink in the praise. “Who could dance through the air like silk in water, with speed and agility unmatched by any other.”

“Mmhm.”

“With battle prowess and a sharp mind impressive enough to be recruited by the Vosian High Command,” Jetfire continued, sneaking underneath the seeker’s belly. “Someone whose endeavours caught the optic of even the likes of Megatron.”

Now that Starscream was sufficiently buttered up, Jetfire’s thrusters powered on, accelerating him hard into Starscream’s underbelly before the seeker could dash away. He wrapped his forelegs around his middle, trapping him easily in his grasp.

“And I’ve heard he was beautiful, too.”

Starscream stared at him agog, pretty mouth open like he was searching for words to bite down on. 

Then as quickly as it started, the cute moment was over, and Starscream growled, fangs bared.

“Ugh! Get off me, you big, stupid–”

He pushed his paws rather uselessly on Jetfire’s broad chest until the shuttle relented, letting Starscream free to push three tail-lengths back.

“What is wrong with you? We’ve hardly even met!” He squawked. “Maybe we should’ve checked you twice for processor damage.”

Energon rushed to Starscream’s cheeks, his bright white faceplates darkening adorably. “What? I’m just telling the truth. I’m getting real mixed signals over here.”

Starscream quickly averted his gaze, rubbing his nape awkwardly with his wings pointed down. “P-please. Flattery will get you nowhere, Autobot.”

“You know, you’re not very convincing.”

“Shut up. You think you’re the first bot to call me cute?”

“I’m sure I’m not,” Jetfire said, circling him once, “but does it change the fact that you are?”

Starscream grumbled huffily, diving from the air to the moor below. He landed cleanly by a pond, overlooked by stones warmed by the gentle heat of Sunchange. Jetfire followed close behind, slowing his descent until he came to a stop on his four paws atop a pleasantly hot boulder.

“You’re so weird,” Starscream murmured snidely. Jetfire let the words roll off him, perfectly content to roll onto his back and lounge on the sunny rocks. 

“I guess I am,” Jetfire said. The seeker stood over him, blocking out the sun in his shadow. “Excuse me.”

“You’re not gonna make me sit around here and watch you sunbathe.”

“I might,” Jetfire said. “It’s been a long couple solar cycles. Maybe you should try it too.”

Starscream plonked down next to him and deflated with a full body sigh. The perfect manifestation of mild frustration. “You’re incorrigible.”

“But I’m warm and comfy. The roads in Iacon make it impossible to get some good sun, you know,” Jetfire darkened one optic to both snooze and keep watch on Starscream. “Relax. I’m not going anywhere.”

To his delight, Starscream moved out of the way of the sun, laying down on his belly next to him and curling his tail around himself.

“Tell me about yourself, Jetfire.”

Getting stuck on shuttle cub-sitting duty was humiliating enough for Starscream, and even more so when it was the overbearing Autobot vice commander.

Jetfire was everything the stories of him were not. He was very amicable, quite approachable despite his incredible size and strength, and he said whatever was on his mind without much of a second thought. He seemed to go where the wind took him, shrugging off Starscream’s jabs at his expense like he didn’t even consider them insults.

It somewhat infuriated Starscream that he barely seemed affected by his words. He knew exactly who he was and nothing swayed him. That was a trait Starscream just didn’t have. 

The sun was low in the sky on the second solar cycle of Jetfire’s arrest- if one could call it that- in Vos, and to Starscream’s immense disappointment, Campion had yet to negotiate a fair deal with Iacon to get rid of the shuttle.

While he’d never admit it, at least for now, Starscream couldn’t deny that it was easy to warm up to Jetfire. He wasn’t shy about how he felt about the seeker, and while Starscream was far from unfamiliar with mechs trying their luck with him to no avail, when it came from him, it flustered him like no one else had before.

Maybe it was because he was powerful and giant and unfortunately very handsome, and Starscream was far easier than he’d like to believe. Regardless, as naturally likable as he was, he was still an Autobot, and once this was all over, the only time they would ever meet again was as enemies. Unless something drastic happened, that was.

“I’m starving.”

Starscream brought Jetfire out for a short flight over The Great Moor again, because as much as the fact annoyed him, he kind of liked getting chased around by the ever persistent shuttle. Between his university studies, and now the war, Starscream hadn’t had the time to just fly around for the sake of it for much of his adult life.

“Was the sciuridon you had this sunrise not enough?” Starscream questioned, banking to the side to slow and level himself with Jetfire. To that, Jetfire barked a laugh.

“Barely. A mech like me can’t live off scraps. I’m not a helicopter,” Jetfire said, “I haven’t eaten anything since I left Iacon, you know.”

“I thought shuttles were supposed to be renowned for their endurance.”

Despite the sass, Starscream allowed Jetfire to catch the spark of humour in his optics. With his shoulders flexed in flight, Jetfire opted to shrug with open paws instead.

“Well, yeah, but there isn’t exactly prey to eat in Iacon, unless I broke into the zoo,” Jetfire said, pausing to let Starscream chuckle. “I have to drink supplemented pure energon up there. It kind of sucks, but I guess it beats nothing.”

“Do they make you drink it out of a dish, too? Come on, let’s find something to hunt.”

“Really?”

“Obviously. There’s a knoll up ahead where electro-rabbits burrow. We can catch something there.”

Jetfire shot him a playful smirk. “Electro-rabbits? Pshh. You dream too small, Starscream. Juuust sit back and watch the master at work.”

He tucked his wings and legs in and dived before Starscream could advise him otherwise. Without any other option, and not one to fail a task given by Campion, he raced to follow the shuttle.

In doing so, he caught the scent of what exactly set Jetfire off. Starscream’s optics widened. A vast herd of cyber-deer, maybe seventy or so, milling about a watering hole, seemingly completely unaware that an 80,000 kilounit aerial predator was about to crash right into them.

The herd snapped to attention only nano-kliks before Jetfire touched down, biolights on their antlers turning an alarmed red before they fled in a frenzy. Jetfire landed close by his target, closing the rest of the distance on paw before he pounced on a large cyber-deer buck, sinking his claws into its haunches and burying his fangs into his neck.

The cyber-deer made a shrill bellow, bucking in a bid to kick Jetfire off, but he was far too large, and soon, the buck crumpled to the ground with Jetfire’s teeth still around its throat. Jetfire finished it off mercifully by ripping out its primary fuel line. By the time it was all over, Starscream had caught up with him, basking in the sight of the fresh kill. It was a veritable feast for a small seeker such as he.

“See?” Jetfire took a moment to wipe his jaw clean with the back of his paw. “Easy work.”

“Yes, very impressive. It’d take three seekers to take a full grown buck down,” Starscream praised, playing up his natural coyness. Jetfire puffed out his chest, wings flared wide.

“I wasn’t my clan’s Great-wing for nothing.” Jetfire was oozing with pride, which he didn’t exactly lack at all times, anyway. “Now if you don’t mind, I’m gonna eat.”

Jetfire bowed over the downed carcass and closed his optics, loud and boisterous voice reduced to a soft whisper.

“Thank you Primus, for the life that has given itself to us, and to Azliah, for eternal good hunting.” 

Starscream felt compelled to repeat it. When he raised his helm and brightened his optics, Jetfire had already sunk his teeth into the buck’s back leg, his huge paw holding down its thigh as he yanked it back hard. The joint holding the limb together cracked and came loose, letting Jetfire pull the buck’s forelimb off cleanly.

With a raised brow, Starscream stepped forward and offered the sweetest smile he could muster. “You wouldn’t mind sharing, Great-wing?”

Predictably, Jetfire smirked dumbly around the buck leg. “Gladly.”

He passed the leg to Starscream, and the seeker gently took it from him in his jaws, so close their snouts almost brushed against each other’s. Jetfire’s gray faceplates darkened substantially with a slight lopsided smile. It was nice to be on the offensive of their little game for once.

“Thank you, Autobot pet.”

“My pleasure, Decepticon scum.”

They shared a quiet laugh together before they laid down and got stuck into the kill.

If it was a little game, it was a dangerous one indeed, but Starscream would concern himself with the consequences later.

The sun set and rose over Vos, and Jetfire was still stuck at Starscream’s side.

Starscream thought Jetfire’s cheery disposition would turn abrasive eventually, but three solar cycles in, it still hadn’t. It was actually quite nice to have his gigantic shadow in his midst. He was his enemy, for sure, but his presence radiated security and strength, and it made Starscream feel oddly safe with him at his side.

The sky grew dark as suntide waned. With Jetfire napping for half the solar cycle and largely unable to leave his side, Starscream had finally finished that patrol incident report he needed to do. When dusk fell over Vos, Jetfire led Starscream to the lookout platform of the Refuge, the tallest spire in all of Centurion.

There, he suddenly fell silent. Starscream felt like he should’ve been happy that the Autobot finally shut up, but…

It was cold this high up, especially after the sun sank below the horizon. Jetfire, being a shuttle, was probably used to it. Starscream wasn’t shameless enough to snuggle up with him, but shameless enough that the thought still came to him in the first place. 

Jetfire was staring expressionless towards the distant Cloud Piercer Mountains to the east of The Great Moor. He was still as stone, besides the twitch of his tail-tip and his claws flexing. Starscream swallowed before sitting down next to him.

Someone had to break the silence. For once, it had to be Starscream.

“Is that where you’re from?”

Jetfire’s optics widened and he lurched upwards. “Oh. Uh, yeah. Yeah, I guess.”

His withers drooped again. Starscream scooted a whisker closer. “Where abouts?”

“Taxkoriat,” Jetfire answered. “It’s a little village halfway up the north face of Mount Titanicon.”

“I don’t think I’ve been.”

“You wouldn’t have. The only bots who live there are my clan, anyway.”

Jetfire looked at his paws. He was grinding his teeth, optics flittering back and forth. Starscream had never seen him so bothered.

“You miss them?”

The shuttle licked his lips and looked elsewhere. “Of course I do,” he said. The biting wind picked up, loud gusts carrying Jetfire’s voice on the breeze. “But I betrayed them. It’d be an insult to them if I showed up now.”

“You could always… always change.”

Jetfire whipped around to stare Starscream down. “I can’t. I can’t follow Megatron. I just… it’s not who I am.”

“You don’t have to be a Decepticon.”

“Do you really believe, with how this war is progressing, Megatron would allow a Vosian warrior to be anything but a Decepticon?”

“Well, he… Megatron isn’t like that. He just wants what’s best for us. He never forces us to do anything.” 

Jetfire let out a humoured scoff. “Oh, life is all moonlight and starshine for you, isn’t it? Megatron only ever dreams of imperialism. The philanthropy is just a means to an end. He’s as rotten as the old Iaconic ways.”

“He’s… he’s nice to me.”

“That’s lovely,” he turned his gaze back to the distant mountains. “Look, I chose this life, and I’ll live with that choice until Azliah takes me. Even if I miss how things were. And even if it means bots like you are on the other side of the war.”

His fans were cycling hard, optics bright and burning. Starscream sighed, turning his gaze away.

“Then I guess we’re stuck in the same slag,” Starscream supposed. “I thought I’d hate you, you know.”

That brought the smile back on Jetfire’s square faceplate. “Do you?”

He chuckled. “Not as much as I should.” He paused to close in on him, voice softening to a whisper. “Autobot soft-paws.”

“Like I said, I’m getting really mixed signals here.”

Starscream smirked, trodding back. He set his back paws, raised his haunches, flared his wings and pounced, pinning Jetfire down. Considering their wildly disparate weight classes, Starscream wouldn’t have been surprised if Jetfire leant into the impact.

“How’s this for a signal?”

Jetfire grinned oafishly. “Not much clearer.”

Starscream bared his teeth and pressed his pawpad on Jetfire’s throat. Despite the threat of claws tearing his intake to shreds, he didn’t even flinch. “Make no mistake, Jetfire. When we meet on the battlefield, I won’t hesitate to kill you.”

“Oh believe me, the feeling’s mutual.” He reached around Starscream’s foreleg, wrapping around the circumference of his wrist with ease. “But we aren’t on the battlefield.”

Starscream lidded his optics, smile darkening. “That’s right.”

“So what are you gonna do to me now?”

They remained in a charged silence for a beat, before Starscream laughed, releasing Jetfire and stepping back. The shuttle rolled back onto his feet.

“Don’t kid yourself. I barely even know you,” Starscream said over his shoulder. Jetfire didn’t seem too phased.

“You know more about me than you have any right to,” Jetfire shot back. “You can play hard to get all you want, Starscream, but it doesn’t change the fact that you still smell like you’re having fun.”

That earned him a deserved whack in the face by Starscream’s thick tail. 

“Ow!”

“Get your snout out from under my fuselage, creep.”

“You make it hard not to.”

He’d heard that one before. “You watch your tongue before I control it for you.”

Jetfire let out a sarcastic seductive growl, circling around him. Starscream decided to follow suit, following his path until they were walking parallel to each other. 

“It’s a shame a powerful warrior like you chose to be an Autobot. We could use your strength to defend Vos.”

“Uh-huh. Well It’s a shame that a pretty little seeker like you chose to be a Decepticon.”

“Why, are you gonna miss me when you go?”

Jetfire’s smirk deepened, tail whipping. “Maybe I’ll bring you with me.”

“In your dreams.”

“Can’t blame a mech for dreaming.”

Starscream was having too much fun fraternizing with the Autobot vice commander, especially when he’d only met him three sunrises ago. If he was a good Decepticon, he’d have killed him a long time ago. He dragged his tail under his chin teasingly, snickering at the way the fearsome Jetfire’s legs quivered.

“You know I could be manipulating you,” Starscream purred. “I am an evil Decepticon, after all.”

“Oh, I’m aware of the possibility.”

“And?”

“I’m taking my chances.”

Starscream gently pushed him away with his tail against his cheek. How could such a naive, soft-sparked mech be Optimus’ right-hand, he couldn’t say. The Autobots were a strange lot. 

The shriek of jet engines approaching brought the two of them back to their senses. They parted, assuming their roles as prisoner and guard as Ironhowl and Blackrush landed on the platform. Jetfire sat down politely, making himself as harmless as he possibly could be in the face of the High Command.

“Blackrush! You’re back,” Starscream greeted. Blackrush was a beige and dark brown seeker with a coat criss-crossed with scars, both new and old, his chassis rippling with an unspoken, violent history. His face was covered by a yellow mask, but his red gaze still communicated warmth. Starscream nudged his helm with his own in greeting. 

“Yes. Sahrahex was secured,” he said curtly. “Jetfire.”

Jetfire froze, sitting as straight as a needlepine trunk. “Oh. Hey.”

“Campion… said you were here.” He cocked his helm, investigating him critically. “...Interesting.”

“Y-yeah. I’ve heard of you before. It’s… cool to see you up close.”

Blackrush didn’t say anything in response for a moment. Jetfire grimaced awkwardly. 

“Thanks. Ironhowl?”

Ironhowl perked up at attention, trotting over purposefully. He looked to Jetfire, the small seeker dwarfed by his huge frame. Just one of Jetfire’s wings was greater than Ironhowl’s entire body length. “Nice to finally meet you, Jetfire.”

“Nice to meet you too,” he said in kind. “I don’t think I’ve ever met such a little Decepticon.”

Starscream bristled at the jab, but Ironhowl seemed to take it in stride. “I guess you wouldn’t. I’m the archivist of the High Command.” He tapped a little lens on the side of his helm. “Everything you say and do is being recorded, so I’d suggest you be on your best behaviour.”

“Struth! You got it.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” Ironhowl said. “Anyway, Windrunner told us to come get you two. It’s past Jetfire’s curfew.”

The time passed so quickly, Starscream didn’t even realise how late they had stayed up. The sun had long disappeared entirely beyond the eastern seaboard by now. “Ah. My bad, I… lost track of time.”

Ironhowl stared at him quizzically, but said nothing of his suspicions. “Oh, and I should let you know that Campion is getting close to finalising a deal with Iacon. You’ll be going home soon, Jetfire.”

Jetfire visibly flattened. “Oh. That’s… good.”

“Mmhm. Just in time, too. Megatron’s visiting in a deca-cycle. I think you’d be inclined to get out of here by then,” Ironhowl notified formally. “Well, that’s all. Get back to your quarters soon, you two.”

Ironhowl and Blackrush left quickly, with the smaller seeker mumbling about the cold as he dived off the platform. Jetfire sighed and rose to his paws.

“Back to my cell it is,” Jetfire lamented. “Come on. We should get back before they send someone else to get us.”

“I guess we should.”

Starscream should’ve been happy to see Jetfire going sooner rather than later, but he would be lying if he said he was. 

The sky was grey on Jetfire’s fifth solar cycle in Vos. The rain was light for now, nothing worth stopping for, but with dark clouds on the horizon, seeking shelter was definitely on his mind.

He and Starscream soared through the sparse raindrops side-by-side over The Great Moor towards the north-east, where the fields of solar-heather gave way to thick needlepine forest, shrouded in fog. The moor ended in a ravine, and past it was a stone tower hidden away in the vast woods. At least, that was what he remembered. 

“The rain’s picking up,” Starscream noted, angling himself mid-flight to try and get the water off his wings. “We should really land and dry off.”

“I know, but we should be coming up to it now,” Jetfire assured. He descended lower until his underbelly was just a few tail lengths above the treeline. “There. Just follow me.”

“You know, I’m the one who should be ferrying you around, not the other way ‘round,” Starscream said. The stone tower was built into the side of a rocky cliff, where the forest ended and the Cloud Piercer mountain range began. He and Starscream landed inside, shaking off the droplets and flaring out their armour to dry off.

“I mean, I am a Shuttle. We were made to guide,” Jetfire said. “Come on, I want to show you something.”

He trotted off into the tower, an ancient temple carved out into the stone by their most distant ancestors. There were no lights, just holes and windows to let sun- and moonlight in. With the dense fog that descended upon the forest, there wasn’t much of that to enjoy. The glow of their optics was the only light to be found in the dark halls. Starscream kept close by, almost touching flanks in a bid to stick together.

“I’ve never been here before.” Starscream’s voice echoed off the walls. Judging by the lack of any notable scents in the air, Jetfire could safely say they were alone, save for a zap-mouse or two. “Where are we?”

“It’s a Vosian temple from heaps ago. Built just when Azliah stole the gift of transformation from Primus, our elders used to say,” Jetfire answered, “It’s pretty off-the-radar. I think only the clans on Titanicon’s north face used to come here. But I don’t know, it smells like we’re the first bots to come here in a while.”

“Figures. The war’s been keeping the elders busy these days,” Starscream said, “I guess there’s no time for tradition anymore.”

It was a shame. Jetfire had never been a religious zealot, but it was still a part of him. Just like every flier in Vos, he guessed. 

“I used to come here as a sparkling,” Jetfire said. The hallway ended in a large door with a myriad of delicately carved symbols adorning its every square centahic. In the center was a crescent moon and a blazing sun. “I was christened as my clan’s Great-wing in this room, too.

He shouldered it open, holding the door ajar for Starscream to pass through. It led into a large, circular chamber with tall, wide windows divided round columns, and directly in front of them, a huge, intricate stone relief artwork of the many Vosian deities. Even after hundreds of millions of years, they were still in spectacular condition.

“Oh. This is incredible, Jetfire,” Starscream finally managed after a moment to soak it in. They ventured closer to the huge rock relief, the door shutting behind them with a thunderous bang. “I never would’ve thought this would be here.”

“That’s what makes it special, though. Check it out, this piece has everything. Here’s the original spark, Radysius,” he pointed his snout towards the great serpentformer, “and Chromisius-” the three headed one, who spurred time into existence, “Primus, of course. Azliah. The Light Bringers-” twin beastformers who chased each other’s tail for eternity. Starscream cocked his helm to get a better look.

“Abolitus isn’t here.”

There was a featureless crater where the God of war would've been. In the current political climate, Jetfire wondered if that was a portent of things to come. “No. Uh, the elders said his depiction was destroyed during the Quintesson invasion. They thought he brought bad tidings.”

Starscream nodded, opting to soak in the sight in silence instead. Outside, the rain was getting heavier, until the air was full of the dull drum of raindrops on the temple’s roof.

The two fliers sat down next to each other. “You’re quite knowledgeable on this stuff, Jetfire,” Starscream said, leaning in so his voice carried over the drumming of rain. Jetfire hummed, solemn.

“I guess.”

They remained in silence for a couple cycles, listening to the rain fall. Starscream’s tail brushed against his, shocking the shuttle from out of his daze.

“What would you have liked to be, if the war had never come to us?”

The air caught in his intake. No one had really asked him that before, at least not in his adult life. He shuffled his paws and cycled his fans, licking his dry lips.

“I never really… figured that out,” he answered truthfully, “when I became my clan’s Great-wing, I had to drop everything to focus on leading. Then when I moved to Iacon, I didn’t really have the privilege of following my dreams.”

As he spoke, Starscream laid the tip of his tail over Jetfire’s. Jetfire almost didn’t notice it.

“...But if all of that wasn’t an issue, I think…” he turned his gaze away, staring listlessly into the fog outside. “I don’t know. It’s stupid.”

“Don’t get all quiet on me now.”

Jetfire closed his optics and sighed the tension away. “Fine. I guess I would’ve liked… uh, to be an explorer. You know, travel to the edge of the galaxy in uncharted territory and… learn about the history of other planets.”

Starscream chuckled sweetly. “That’s so cute.”

“Y-yeah. Uh, but I… I kinda flunked my first year at the university so…” he shrugged. “It was just a dumb pipedream, really.”

“That’s not dumb. I think it was quite a noble goal.”

“Easy for you to say…” Jetfire turned his gaze back to meet Starscream’s. “What about you?”

Starscream straightened his posture. “Well, I… I wanted to be a medic. I was almost done with my medical science masters when the war came to me, actually,” he said, averting his gaze to the ground. “Split Wing has been training me but… I guess it isn’t the same. University was fun for me. I had a lot of friends. Then things changed and– I don’t know. What can you do? The war was always going to come for us eventually.”

They sat quietly once again. Jetfire took the initiative and curled his tail around Starscream’s. The little seeker didn’t try to pull away, so he kept it there.

“I’m gonna miss this place,” Jetfire said quietly. “I know I can’t stay. But it was nice to be home again. Eating real food, breathing clean air. No roads blocking the sun. Being with my kind.”

“The offer still stands. You could… stay. We could figure it out, reinstate your citizenship here–”

“Starscream, I can’t come back here. You know that,” he said, stopping him in his tracks. Starscream shuffled closer.

“Jetfire…”

There wasn’t a flicker of malice in his eyes. He looked so beautiful, especially when he wasn’t snarling. 

He leaned in and nuzzled him. Maybe it was a bad idea, but he couldn’t stop himself. Thankfully, Starscream didn’t bite him, nor flinch away.

“You’re so stupid… I’m a Decepticon, you know,” Starscream chided, but he was leaning into his touch. Jetfire let out a low snicker.

“As I said, I’m taking my chances.”

“Idiot.”

Then Starscream licked his cheek, and Jetfire jolted back, optics wide and faceplates heating with abashment. “W-woah.”

Staracream just chuckled, standing and walking away, exaggerating the sway of his haunches, his tail hiked up just slightly. Jetfire swallowed and followed.

“As much as I loathe to admit it, I don’t think I hate you, Autobot,” Starscream purred.

“I’m glad to hear that–ough!”

Starscream lunged into him, knocking him down again. This time, though, the seeker laid down gently on top of him, hardly pinning him. Jetfire kind of liked being under him, though.

“Woof, Starscream…”

The seeker giggled, leaning in to nudge the shuttle’s nose with his own, and Jetfire’s spark fluttered. He felt like a juvenile all over again.

“I meant it when I said you were beautiful,” Jetfire whispered, his paw rising to stroke Starscream’s faceplates. “If only you were an Autobot.”

Starscream gently pushed his paw away. “If only you were a Decepticon.”

They closed the distance between them, snouts touching. “Maybe we could run away. Start a clan of our own on some distant planet.”

“Don’t be stupid. We’ve only known each other for five solar cycles. We have to go back,” he playfully scolded. Jetfire smiled against his cheek.

“Just a thought.”

“Then stop thinking it,” he said. “If we run away, our sides will forever be divided. Besides, Optimus would miss you, wouldn’t he?”

“Grrrhh, I hate how you think things through…”

“I try my best.”

Jetfire returned the favour and placed a chaste lick on his cheek before resting his helm’s crest in the crook of his neck. He could almost hear the crackle of his spark in his chest.

“Then I’ll come back for you after the war,” Jetfire said. Starscream’s laugh rumbled through him.

“Depending on how things pan out, we’ll probably be dead or in prison by the time the end rolls around.”

“Not if I have anything to do about it.”

“Tch. You sound so certain.”

“It’s called being optimistic.”

He caressed Jetfire’s chest, where his insignia would’ve been, with a feather-light touch. “Mmh. Maybe you really could never have been a Decepticon. Your spark is too pure, goody-four-paws.” 

“Totally. I’m a saint.”

Starscream cocked his helm. “Not saintly enough to refrain yourself from sticking your tongue down the enemy's intake?”

“Well, I’m not the one with the Matrix now, am I?”

“I guess not.”

Jetfire smirked. “And was that a request?”

“What was?”

“The part about sticking my tongue down your intake.” 

“I’d bite your tongue off if you tried.”

“So feisty.”

“You feeling brave, Autobot?”

Jetfire flipped them around rather easily, trapping Starscream under him. “You could say that. I’d consider myself a lucky mech.”

Starscream shaded his gaze under the brim of his helm, engines humming under his chest. “Wanna try your luck, tough bot? I doubt you got the hardware…”

“Well, if you’re asking so nicely…”

Against his better judgement, he leaned in, wavered just as their noses touched, and then captured the seeker’s lips in a breathless, open-mouthed kiss. 

The soft little noises Starscream made when he dragged his tongue over his lips and teeth were music to his audials. He wondered how else he could make the pretty seeker sing for him.

But before he could lose himself in the feeling, he was pushed back, and he broke away. Starscream wiped his mouth with the back of his paw and rolled out from under Jetfire, turning his back on him. Maybe he had come to his senses.

“We shouldn’t,” Starscream said brusquely, wings held tight and small against his sides. “We… we need to remember where our loyalties lie.”

Jetfire frowned. “But Starscream–”

“Jetfire, I can’t risk being seen like this with you. Megatron would…” he looked away. “I’d like to stay in his good graces.”

Jetfire trotted around him to meet his gaze again. “I get it. It probably wouldn’t go over well if the Autobots knew I was… associating with a Decepticon.”

Still, he took Starscream’s paw and held it, gentle enough to let him rip it away if he wanted to.

“Some day,” Jetfire promised. “It’ll be easier.”

“Until then.”

Starscream withdrew his paw and stepped back. The rain was starting to let up, and in the distance, the clouds parted for a sliver of sunlight to burst through.

“Starscream?”

The two fliers startled upright at the third voice intruding on them. Flashfire and Windrunner were standing in the doorway, positively drenched. Jetfire didn’t remember noticing them come in. How much of that did they see?

“C-Commander Windrunner!” Starscream stammered, a deep blush blanketing his snout and cheeks. “And Flashfire, sir. I didn’t see you there.”

“You’re mighty far from Centurion, Jetfire,” Windrunner said, his voice low and cold. Jetfire backed away and grimaced. “What are you doing alone with Starscream?”

Thankfully, Starscream sprung out in front of him before Windrunner could drill him any further. “It’s okay, commander. He’s cooperative. I brought him out here myself.”

Windrunner growled from the pit of his belly before he settled himself. “I see. But you ought to exercise a little more caution with prisoners like Jetfire, Starscream. You never know what these Autobots are planning.”

His optics narrowed apprehensively in Jetfire’s direction. Starscream padded back towards the shuttle, standing in front of him with defensive flared wings. “I know. It’s just… he’s different.”

Flashfire laughed quietly to himself at Windrunner’s back. Windrunner vented sharply, faceplates taken by a bemused frown.

“Right. Anyway, we were looking for you, Jetfire. We have good news,” Windrunner said. Jetfire’s brow rose.

“Oh?” Jetfire leaned in.

“Yes. We have finalized a prisoner exchange with Iacon. It will take place at sunset, 1800 joors sharp, on the neutral island of Lesak-aw,” Flashfire explained, coming forward. “I suggest you return to the Refuge at once and get your things in order.”

“I…see,” Jetfire muttered, wings pinning back. “Thanks for letting me know.”

“Of course. The sooner you get out of our whiskers, the better,” Flashfire said. He motioned Starscream over with a flick of the helm. “Come, Starscream. As his custodian, you have some forms to fill out.”

Starscream left Jetfire for Flashfire, but glanced over his shoulder at him. The black and white seeker playfully jostled him, stealing his attention away from Jetfire, and whispered into his audials.

“And between you and me? You should get a better taste in mechs.”

Lesak-aw was not so much an island as it was a tiny patch of land amongst a shattered archipelago in the middle of the Septentric Ocean. It made sense that it was neutral, there was hardly enough land to make it useful for just about anything. It was as good a place as any to exchange prisoners.

Jetfire landed unremarkably on the grassy island, accompanied by Starscream close by, Windrunner, Blackrush, and a few other Vosian soldiers he didn’t recognise. Waiting on Lesak-aw was an Autobot transport ship and a short, blue and amber sports car plodding around. The car-bot stood at attention upon realising the Vosians had joined him, saluting stiffly.

“Commander Jetfire!” he acknowledged briskly. Jetfire managed a forced laugh, trying not to meet his optics.

“...You are?”

A much larger, far more imposing orange tow-truckformer dropped from the transport vessel, joining the small Autobot’s side. “This is Lieutenant Side Swipe,” he explained. “Jetfire. Good to see you in one piece.” He tilted his head, optics darting up and down Jetfire’s new scars. “I think?”

“Oh, Smokescreen. My saviour.”

“Psh, hardly. It was Prowl who dealt with all the bureaucracy nonsense,” Smokescreen assured. Windrunner stepped forward, rearing up onto two legs to meet the grounder optic-to-optic.

“Smokescreen. We’ve brought Jetfire, as was agreed upon,” Windrunner said, turning to address the shuttle. “Now, the prisoners.”

“Uh-huh, they’re in the transport. Don’t get hasty,” Smokescreen said. “Side Swipe, if you could escort them out...”

“Sir, yes sir!” 

Side Swipe disappeared into the transport, and soon after, emerged with a blue and black helicopter and a purple shuttle in wing-cuffs and shackles around their paws. Jetfire perked up somewhat at the sight of the new arrivals.

“Spacewarp?”

The purple shuttle’s brow disappeared behind her crest, before furrowing in a scowl again. “Oh. Taxkoriat Great-wing Jetfire. Funny seeing you here.”

“I-”

She scoffed, brushing him off bitterly. Side Swipe nudged her along with his pistol and directed her forward. Windrunner looked towards Starscream and nodded, a silent order. Starscream cleared his intake and gently prodded Jetfire along with his snout. 

“Time to go, Jetfire,” he whispered. Jetfire let out a heavy sigh. He knew he was never going to stay forever, Campion and everyone else made sure to remind him of that. It didn’t make it any tougher to leave his home behind. Begrudgingly, Jetfire padded forward.

“There. Vortex and Spacewarp, as promised,” Smokescreen said, bowing with mock flourish. “And here’s the keys to their chains.”

Smokescreen tossed Windrunner a small passkey. The triple-changer passed it along to his lackey, who made quick work of undoing the prisoner’s bindings. Windrunner whispered something to Blackrush, and the battle-worn seeker took off with Spacewarp and Vortex in tow, transforming and disappearing beyond the clouds towards Vos. Smokescreen crossed his arms and tapped his pede, impatience radiating harshly.

“Alright, hand him over,” Smokescreen commanded. Finally, after half a deca-cycle with the tracker cuff around his back leg, Starscream finally unlatched it, the weight coming off with a wave of relief. Jetfire stretched his back paw with a crack, setting his sore joints and hydraulics back in place.

“That’s better…” Jetfire sighed. “Starscream, I… uh.”

“I know,” Starscream whispered. The seeker glanced nervously between Windrunner and Smokescreen. “Can we have a moment?”

The two bots exchanged quizzical stares, but acquiesced, stepping back and out of clear audial-shot. With a semblance of privacy, Starscream finally relaxed, releasing the tension simmering under his chassis with flared armour plates. He looked down at his paws and rested his helm against Jetfire’s chest.

“Do you think we could see each other again?” Starscream whispered, brushing his paw against Jetfire’s. 

“That would be nice,” Jetfire replied. He brushed his nose against the seeker’s faceplated, urging him to face him. 

Jetfire felt his spark warm at Starscream’s glowing beauty, and he brushed his snout along his jaw. Starscream happily lifted his chin for him until Jetfire was resting his face against his withers.

“Come here on the next full moon, when it's at its highest. I’ll be waiting,” Starscream said into his audial, barely loud enough to be a whisper. Jetfire smiled against his coat.

“I’ll try,” he replied. “Until then.”

They broke away. “Until then,” Starscream echoed. “Stay safe, alright?”

“I’ll do what I can,” Jetfire said. “Thanks for everything.”

He dipped his head graciously. “Don’t worry about it,” Starscream said coolly. “Now get lost.”

Jetfire chuckled. There was that intensity he’d grown endeared to. “Yeah. I’d better get going.”

“Are you two done fawning over each other? Optimus is starting to bother me for updates,” Smokescreen yelled out from behind him. Jetfire took that as his cue to turn and slip away, and Starscream did the same. They shared one last glance before Windrunner transformed and raced off, beckoning Starscream to come along with. 

The little red seeker was gone, flying off into the horizon, back to his home. Their home, really. With that behind him, Jetfire looked back to his Autobot compatriots. Back to the life he had chosen for himself.

“Who was that?” Smokescreen asked as they boarded the transport. 

“His name’s Starscream,” Jetfire replied. “He… kept an eye on me during my imprisonment.”

“Hm. I see.”

Jetfire couldn’t help but look over his shoulder to where Starscream once was before he hopped aboard the vessel, leaving it all in his wake for Iacon.

Side Swipe bounded over to his side, his sly blue gaze dancing with mischief. He must’ve been a brand new recruit, his faceplates were still soft and there was not a single scar of war plaguing his chassis. “What a pretty seeker he was!”

That was true, but Jetfire still gave him a good-natured cuff on the back of his neck, earning him an indignant laugh. Smokescreen sat down opposite him and folded his legs.

“So, what’s the story behind the new scar?”

Starscream was pacing.

He should’ve been happy that Jetfire was gone, that he could finally go back to his normal life, free to go wherever he wanted without worrying about his prisoner absconding. He was a Decepticon, and an Autobot had no place in his life. 

But it was so quiet without him. If he kept at it, he might’ve worn a circle into the floor of his quarters. It would be another few solar cycles until the full moon came around, and he was looking forward to it more than he wanted to admit. He cursed himself under his breath, grinding his teeth and digging his claws into the ground. He was too old to be clinging to something as trivial as a crush. He wasn’t in some trite sparkling tale. Was he really playing into being a star-crossed lover?

He sat down at his workstation and hugged himself with his tail. Starscream wondered if Skywarp or Thundercracker replied to his message yet.

But did I even send it? Is it even worth it?

Starscream growled and slammed his paw against his desk, before burying his faceplates in his pawpads. He wished he never got dragged into this stupid war. Then he wouldn’t have insurmountable guilt eating away at him for wanting to be with Jetfire. 

Jetfire was his own kind, from the same place he was, raised believing the same things he did. There should’ve been nothing dividing them, save for maybe the mountain ranges. It was hardly fair at all.

Before he could drown in the mire of his own thoughts, there was a knock on his doors. Starscream jolted up.

“Who’s there?” Starscream asked.

“I hope I haven’t found you at an inopportune time, Starscream.”

Megatron slid his quarter’s doors open, crouching under the frame and stepping in. Starscream startled, springing backwards and fixing his posture. “Megatron, sir! I… I apologise, I wasn’t aware you’d be coming. I would’ve cleaned up if I did.”

With a charismatic smile, he waved his concerns off. “Don’t worry about it. I was coming back from Tarn through Vos. I was talking to Campion, and I just thought I should come visit. It’s been some time since we spoke,” he assured. “May I?”

He gestured to Starscream’s bedding, and the Starscream nodded yes a little too quickly after he asked. Megatron sat down at the side of his berth, its frame buckling under his immense weight, leaning forward and clasping his servos between his knees. Starscream made himself small in his presence. 

“What can I do for you, Megatron?”

“Nothing. I just wanted to know how you’re fairing.”

His spark raced in his chest, cycles faltering with his nerves. Did he know of Jetfire’s presence in Vos? Did he know he had found himself infatuated with an Autobot? He wetted his lips and tried to steel himself, staring off into the ventilation.

“I’m fine,” he answered tersely. Megatron tilted his head down, scanning him from withers to haunches. Starscream’s hackles bristled at the tingle of sensors painting him. 

“Are you? You seem… perturbed,” Megatron said. He motioned him closer with a crook of his digit. After a moment of deliberation, Starscream acquiesced, slowly padding forward until he was at Megatron’s pedes. “I wanted to know if you were alright.”

“Of course I am. What makes you think otherwise, sir?”

“Oh. See, I thought you might’ve been upset after Skyjump’s execution. I was told you were quite close to him,” Megatron explained. The air caught in Starscream’s intake, his optics growing wide. 

“He… he’s dead?”

“Indeed. He was executed on the tenth day of the eighth orbital cycle,” Megatron said. “I’m sorry you had to find out this way.”

He was so caught up in the Jetfire predicament, he must have missed the news. Starscream’s optics listlessly darted to-and-fro across Megatron’s face, looking for comfort in his gaze. Megatron set a huge servo on Starscream’s helm and offered solace in a gentle stroke, giving softness that seemed impossible coming from such a powerful mech. 

“It’s… it’s fine. He was a traitor,” Starscream said, his hitching vocaliser betraying him. “What can you do?”

“Starscream, come here.”

He patted his own shoulder. Maybe it was a bad idea to give into it, but Starscream found himself starving for any kind of affection. He stood up on two paws and let himself fall into Megatron’s arms, burying his snout between his treads and helm. Megatron was big, almost as big as Jetfire was, and just about as powerful. It made him feel… protected. 

Was that all he ever wanted?

A massive servo rubbed circles into this back, right between his wings. “I see greatness in your future, little seeker,” Megatron said, his deep voice rumbling deep in Starscream’s core. “And I look forward to seeing you achieve it.”

“Thank you, sir. I appreciate it.”

“Indeed. And I promise you, if you remain loyal to the Decepticon cause…” Megatron rest his faceplates against the top of Starscream’s helm. “If you remain loyal to me, you will be standing by my side when I am this world’s ruler. That’s for certain, Starscream.”