Mira

---

The mission was an abject failure.

Gritting his denta, Starscream knows he'll be punished as he stiffly delivers the report to Megatron. At least you're safe in his habsuite - as horrible as it is, you know the drill by now. Not that he likes subjecting you to constant emergency first aid, but at least he can be the one to tank Megatron's wrath.

Helm bowed, on his knees, he braces for the blows to his frame - or would it be Megatron's cannon this time? No pain comes, though - what he doesn't expect is Megatron's silky laughter, which is somehow even worse.

"Oh no, Starscream. You think that you can offer your frame up for punishment and it'll be enough to atone? I think not."

Starscream's optics narrow as he works through what Megatron means. Surely - surely not.

But the cruel smile that warps Megatron's faceplate only grows wider as the increasingly cacophonous sounds of a struggle approach the bridge. Place forgotten, Starscream shoots to his pedes in horror as you are shoved through the doorway, furiously trying to break free from the grip of several low-ranking lackeys.

"Lord Megatron," Starscream says, fighting to keep the tremble of rage from distorting his vocaliser. "you can't. They're barely more than a youngling - "

"It doesn't matter to me what they are," Megatron snarls. His blood red optics flash, a cruel grin splitting his faceplate as he rises from his throne. "All I need to know is that you care."

Starscream lunges forward at the same time you're shoved aggressively before Megatron. However, he's immediately restrained by a flash of blue and purple - Soundwave and Shockwave.

"Starscream: Necessary to the Decepticon cause," Soundwave intones. "Recently: Has been distracted. Reason: Young charge. Conclusion: Going soft."

"I'll show your cassettes soft!" Starscream screeches, thrashing in their grip.

"Cassettes: Aid Soundwave."

Optics wide, you force yourself to face the looming shadow above you.

"Tell me, little one," Megatron purrs, silky smooth. "What have you contributed to the Decepticon cause?"

The fear you feel comes from the knowledge that there's no right answer. Megatron doesn't want to hear that you've been in every battle since Starscream joined the Decepticons, doesn't want to hear that you were the one to patch up his SIC - even if he's probably figured it out. He just wants to hurt Starscream. You steal a quick glance at your commander, unable to maintain his facade with you in imminent danger - wild-eyed and feral in his desperation to reach you because he hadn't anticipated that Megatron's cruelty could reach such lengths, and now you were going to pay the price.

"Nothing?"

His voice slithers into your audials like venomous snakes, infecting your processor with doubt. It's a terrible time to be reminded of your guilt for being unable to help Starscream more - but the slump of your shoulders is what Megatron was gunning for. His optics harden, cold as ice and sharp as flint. You wonder how Orion Pax felt seeing the shift of his optics into something unrecognizable, something monstrous.

"Then, for the good of our cause, I have no reason to withhold from eliminating a drain on our resources," Megatron snarls.

The first blow sends you reeling back, the ringing in your audials reverberating with Starscream's cry. You have no time to recover - another strike to your chassis, a vicious swipe aimed at soft mesh. You stand no chance against the former feared gladiator of Kaon, and everybody knows it. The searing pain has you gasping, servos pressed to the gash in your side - energon, hot and sticky, flows freely over your plates. Megatron circles you lazily, looking vaguely bored.

"Pathetic. Where's the fight in you? It seems that Starscream's training leaves much to be desired."

Okay. Now that you won't accept. Not after everything Starscream has risked for you. You grit your denta and glare at Megatron. If you're destined to meet Primus today, you're not going down without a fight. This, however, seems to please him, because his disgusted expression shifts into one of malicious glee, optics glinting with barely contained bloodlust. "That's more like it," He growls, laughing as you lunge at him with a cry - he easily swats you aside. Scrambling off the floor, you take stock of your enemy - Megatron is twice your size and fully armoured - built, quite literally, like a tank. The only advantage you have over him is flight, and now is not the time to think about fighting fair.

Gathering your energy, you shoot upwards, towards him. He definitely wasn't expecting that - miraculously, you manage to land a kick to his helm. Your efforts barely put a dent in his armour, but in a crazed way, Megatron seems pleased.

His grin is feral as he stalks towards you. "Commendable, little seeker," He says, leering at you. "If you survive this, I will spare you."

You barely manage to dodge his servo as it comes down, but that's where your luck runs out. Already anticipating your move, Megatron grabs your leg as you jet upwards and slams you into the ground. Warnings explode on your HUD - your mechanisms are going haywire, and the impact had shaken something out of place. Your frame radiates pain, pain, pain, but still, you try to drag yourself away - and cry out as Megatron grabs you by a wing.

The snap of plates is an awful, awful sound. That's all you can think of before agonizing pain explodes in your wing, arcing like lightning down your spinal strut. Mechanisms creak, wires snap a little too easily under Megatron's unforgiving servos - you thrash under his pede, frame completely overtaken by agony. Distantly, you hear Starscream's roar of rage, but it's not enough to drown out the screaming spit of static that overtakes your voice.

Heavy blows rain down on your frame, unceasing. Your plates may as well be made from aluminum under Megatron's fists, denting at immediate contact. There's no escape - you flinch away from a punch only to meet claws that shred your plates open like paper. At this point, you can barely see through the energon that stains your frame and drips into your optics. The growing pool of energon beneath your pedes and the sluggishness of your processor tells you that you're losing power fast. Any way you move, there's no escaping the agony the wracks your frame, searing, burning - rushing like liquid fire through your lines, rushing from torn wires to hotly sear over your plates. Worst is the pain in your wing - you're distantly aware that it's broken, hanging by a few remaining wires whose only purpose seems to be ferrying pain to your frame. Horror wracks your frame as you consider that you may never fly again and suddenly, survival seems to be the worst punishment of all.

Your sob for Starscream is the last straw. Baring his denta in a snarl, he activates his thrusters to wrench himself away from Soundwave and Shockwave, throwing himself in front of your broken frame just as Megatron pulls his fist back for the final blow.

"Enough," Starscream hisses, savagely.

For a nanoklik, all is still.

Unexpectedly, Megatron steps back. "Interesting," He drawls, and turns away as if disinterested by the entire affair, completely undisturbed by the explosion of energon that now covers the bridge. "A promise is a promise. Take them to Knockout."

"What if I never fly again?" You sob.

Starscream looks down at your broken frame, snapped wing and shattered cockpit, and for a nanoklik has absolutely no idea how to lift you up without increasing your agony. There's no avoiding it, but you are not granted the mercy of passing out when he does lift you up, a screech of static garbling your vocaliser when you sob at the pain in your wing. "Shhh," Starscream murmurs, his steps frantic as he storms off the bridge. "It's all right now, we'll get you fixed up - "

You know he's desperately trying to rein in his EM field so as not to scare you further, but you can dimly feel the abject panic that vibrates through his plates where he's holding you close. You make the mistake of looking into his optics - Starscream is just as terrified. You've never seen him this panicked, not even when you cracked your faceplate open. Dread wracks your frame at the realization of how bad it must be.

"You will," Starscream says fiercely. "You will fly - I will not accept any other outcome."

By some small mercy, you've slipped into stasis by the time he bursts into Knockout's med bay. Knockout looks uncharacteristically grim - all his tools are laid out, clearly having been warned of your arrival.

His intake flattens into a hard line when he sees the state of your wing. Starscream must have seen it, because his EM field immediately spikes.

"I don't care what you do," Starscream growls. "But that wing must be restored."

"I can rejoin it," Knockout says, sombre. "But I cannot guarantee full use of the wing afterwards, because there's no telling whether the severed sensory nets will reactivate."

Starscream snarls in disgust, his own wings trembling. Before his white-knuckled grip can dent the medical berth, Knockout speaks again, thoughtful but hesitant.

"The other option would be a wing replacement. The success rate is high, but I'm sure you know what the major obstacle to that is."

It barely takes a nanoklik for Starscream to come to a decision. "I will see to it," He says curtly. "I expect you not to question my methods."

Knockout ex-vents. "I'd better get started before they come online," is all he says. "You'd better go."

Starscream nods, expression stony as he pivots to depart the med bay. Rage crackles through his lines, propelling him upwards as he takes to the air. He'd grievously misjudged Megatron, and you had paid the price. Something had changed - the look in the warlord's eyes had been crazed, blinded by bloodlust. Gone was logic and reason. Mindless cruelty had taken its place.

"Megatron is not fit to lead," Starscream whispered grimly to himself. Something had to give.

Megatron is not fit to lead.

And if he had to be the one to incite change... then so be it.

---

Only when you're on your pedes do you realise the engex has affected you way more than you thought. You thank your lucky stars that Starscream had only made a sound of disgust at the entire situation before allowing you to more or less use him as a crutch to stay upright.

Even after leaving Swerve's, it was some time before you were actually on the road, given that it had taken some trial and error to transform into your altmode.

Fuzzily, you tried to gain a sense of your transformation mechanisms.

Okay, cockpit, you knew where that went. Wings. Okay.

Hmm.

You still had legs.

And suddenly, the world tilted. Half-transformed and woefully off-balance, the nose of your altmode tipped slowly forwards to acquaint itself with the ground. The dull thunk reached your audials before the pain actually registered.

"...Ow."

You were distantly aware of Skywarp wheezing with raspy laughter in the background.

"Come on, Screamer, you have to admit that's hilarious - ow!"

A small part of you couldn't help but feel smug about that. Still, you were in no better position, legs awkwardly out, nose in the dirt and rudders in the air.

Starscream's voice, when he kneels next to your altmode, is a little too measured. You, slowly attempting to summon a modicum of outrage, suspect he's trying for irritated but is having a bit too hard of a time holding his laughter back.

"Fuselage and landing gears, cadet."

"Nnghh."

You sluggishly try to feel for the parts of your frame that he's talking about, and something must have worked, because your nose is lifted promptly out of the dirt, allowing you to take in the exasperated expression on Starscream's faceplate. "At last. Now, spoilers out..."

--

Being towed deftly through deep space allows you a very intimate experience of how Starscream flies. He's in perfect control of both space and speed; not once does your altmode jerk awkwardly to a stop or become upended on sharp turns. Controlling your own frame is hard enough, let alone two, and impulse control be damned - you spend most of the return journey dreamily admiring one of the greatest fliers that Cybertron has ever produced. Upon landing, Starscream does allow himself a self-satisfied smile when he sees you making no effort to hide your starry-eyed gaze at him - which warps instantly into panic as you take a step towards him and immediately pitch sideways.

A flare of his thrusters is enough to propel him to your side, just managing to catch you before you eat ground for the second time that night. He's viciously muttering something about peeling Skywarp plate by plate as he tries to right you, which is when you decide to help by wrapping your arms around his middle again and refusing to let go.

"Skywarp's nice," You slur. "Don't peel him, sir. Please?"

"I- You don't- argh, fine," Is all Starscream manages to spit out before static actually garbles his vocaliser. You blessedly decide to keep quiet before he busts a fuel line. As long as you don't speak, surely hugging him tighter would be okay, right?

A choked mess of static is your response - in addition, however, to a warm servo on your shoulder, more or less dragging your frame onward to his habsuite. Thankfully no other officers were around to see you both, but you were way past caring at that point.

Starscream finally manages to heave you bodily into a seated position on the berth.

"I have work to finish," He says, wearily. "Recharge. You still have training tomorrow."

To some extent, you do know that he'd abandoned his duties to collect you from Swerve's, and he has important things to do. However, it quickly becomes apparent that you have no plans to let him go - stubbornly clinging onto him even as he tries to leave.

"Let go, cadet."

"No."

Before the irritation hits, a ripple of panic from your EM field gives him pause.

"...And dare I ask why not?"

The pause that descends is heavy. Ashamed of losing control, you sullenly burrow further into his back, between his wings.

Starscream's ex-vent reverberates through his entire frame, but he gently rotates himself in your stubborn grip so he can cradle your helm to his chassis. Gentle strokes of his servo over your wings have you sagging against him as you shutter your optics against the dizziness that fogs your processor. You shiver as he traces lightly over your aileron, over what used to be a nasty rip in your wing plating - the one which he mended himself. "Well?"

"You'll get hurt if you leave," You eventually mumble, muffled into his frame. "You always come back hurt. It's not fair."

The gentle, sweeping strokes over your wings abruptly stop. A deep, weary ex-vent.

"Life isn't fair, cadet."

"So?" You mutter. "It shouldn't be unfair to you."

Childish, yes. But you don't care. The Starscream you know doesn't deserve this. At the very least, he chuckles at that, and you can take credit for the nanoklik where your childishness lightens his burden ever so slightly. The mood, however, quickly turns somber again as your emotions get the better of you.

"What if you don't come back?"

You're acutely aware of Starscream's hesitation before he answers. You know there's some things he can't promise you, but you stubbornly refuse to believe that... there will come a moment when you hear his voice for the last time.

For now, though, it seems that Starscream is equally reluctant to leave your little universe of two.

"Don't be silly," he admonishes gently. "You think you can be rid of me so easily?"

It fills you with more relief than you'd care to admit. He is indeed resilient - he's a lot more capable than Megatron makes him out to be, and as the leader of the ex-high guard, he's no stranger to fighting for survival. You're starting to understand the scary front he puts up, because it works to an extent to quell any potential rebellions or revenge plots among the troops.

It is a front, right?

Your fuzzy processor wrests with the thought for another nanoklik before your own survival mechanisms decide to abandon the thought. He's been nothing but gentle with you, in his own prickly way - and deep down, you know this thought will lead you to a conclusion you're not sure you're ready to confront.

"They're all so scared of you," You slur. "I dunno why."

Starscream stiffens, but slowly resumes stroking your wings, carefully tracing flaps and spoilers to the tune of your humming engines. You barely manage to catch his response - perhaps he thinks you've already slipped into recharge.

"If only you knew," Starscream says quietly, sadly.

You struggle to make sense of that - you get the feeling that he's saying more than he normally would, because you're drunk out of your processor and liable to forget all that has transpired. Still, you know what you're determined to do, anyway. "'m gonna protect you. From the bad guys," You mutter. It's near incoherent, but Starscream picks it up anyway. His chuckle is raspy and indulgent.

"So what are you going to do to protect me, hm?"

"I," you declare, woozily shooting upright - you would absolutely have tipped over, had Starscream not steadied you - "will kick your enemies in the faceplate. One by one. Then they'll know not to mess with you." Never mind that you're about half Megatron's height, but it's the thought that counts.

Starscream's optics are uncharacteristically soft. "Next time we have an opening in battle, I'll leave the grand finale to you, then."

"Mmhmm," you mumble. "It'll be good."

At some point, you'd been carefully laid down on the berth - good thing too, because warnings of an imminent shutdown keep flashing on your HUD, and you drowsily decide to be good because Starscream has seemingly abandoned his work in favour of lying down beside you.

"You can do that in the morning. For now, I think it's time for recharge, don't you?"

"Okay," you murmur, scooting closer to him. "Doing my job."

"And what would that be?"

"I'm a seeker. I seek warmth."

You bask in the laughter that rumbles through Starscream's chassis as he tucks you close, and you finally slip into a dreamless recharge.