Chapter Text
Cybertron. Tarn. During the war.
Megatron dampened sensory input from his olfactories so he could stand next to the carnage without purging. He was a veteran of the Pits of Kaon. He had killed with his bare hands, bathed himself with energon. He was no soft-spark. Not anymore.
This still made him sick.
“How many casualties?” he asked Soundwave.
His lieutenant did not answer right away, which did not bode well.
“Unclear,” Soundwave finally replied. “More extensive forensics will be required.”
Rancid-looking oil seeped out of the charnel pil and stained Megatron's pede. The street—a narrow thoroughfare that weeks earlier had seen factory workers traversing from small hab neighborhoods to their factory shifts—was hidden by corpses. Or the bits of them. Megatron couldn't tell immediately what had done this. It looked like they'd been torn apart, yet others had been sliced methodically. Some cuts looked like they’d been made with a rotary saw.
A Decepticon symbol was painted in fresh, vivid purple above the energon spray on the wall.
“Were any of these mechs even Autobot sympathizers?” Megatron asked.
“Unclear,” Soundwave replied again. “Initial investigation shows evidence of a long running territorial dispute. Predating our movement.”
So someone was using their symbol to settle a grudge. It wouldn't be the first time, but this was by far the most brutal examples Megatron had seen. Primus, why would anyone do this?
Discomfort pricked Megatron's spark. His movement attracted mechs who were angry. Mechs ready to fight. Sometimes too ready. He'd tried to curb the worst of it, but the movement was so much bigger now. It had all the size of an army yet little of the discipline. He'd tried to instill that, but they were barely years out from the time when they'd been independent cells. They still used such cells in Autobot controlled cities. Megatron couldn't control everything.
He could condemn it. Part of him thought he should. But the more of those wearing his badge he cut off, the fewer forces he had. Recruitment was going well, but not that well.
An engine roared overhead, followed by the sounds of transformation.
“Disgusting,” Starscream said from a rooftop above Megatron's head.
He rolled his optics. “Afraid to get your finish dirty?”
“In that slop? Absolutely. Who knows what viruses are swirling around in there. Primus, how did they even do that to a fuel pump?”
Unlike the carnage below, Starscream glistened, even in Tarn’s smoggy air. White, red, and blue plating polished to a shine as always. Megatron paused to stare. He had so few pleasures left these days. Not the victories and the roaring crowds of the Pits. Not his writing. Not the correspondence of a like-minded archivist who had been too weak to resist the call of power. All casualties of war.
Starscream, though, was still left to him. Beautiful and fierce, everything Megatron had believed out of his reach within the mines. Like his best opponents in the ring, Starscream was a challenge, but he came with a far sweeter prize for victory than violence. Megatron smirked, knowing that at some point tonight he would drag Starscream from his perch and dirty that pristine armor. And he'd do so well enough that even the vain seeker would beg him for it.
Starscream noticed him staring and playfully angled his chest turbines down. He knew the game and was clearly ready to begin.
Soundwave reset his vocalizer. “What shall we do with the perpetrators, Lord Megatron?”
Megatron still wasn't used to the title. He needed authority, and “lord” was an easy way to get it even without his presence. Even if Starscream teased him endlessly in the berth about it.
“They're clearly efficient killers,” Starscream said. “If you can control them, that is.”
It was almost a surprise to hear Starscream say that. Before Vos, Megatron did not think he would have, but with the city’s fall Starscream had darkened. He was taking it the hardest, even though he tried to deny it.
Starscream was hurt. Megatron saw it in his processor every time they interfaced, in his acidic asides and growing ruthlessness. Megatron wanted to wash that pain away. He needed an army to do it, and he needed one vicious enough to win against a foe with greater numbers and greater resources.
If you can control them . That was the question wasn't it? Could Megatron take on these killers? Shoulder their sins? Their cruelty? Did he have a choice if the Decepticons were to survive?
Starscream needed him strong. Soundwave, all the Decepticons who had pledged themselves to him, needed him certain. Cybertron needed him to make any sacrifice necessary to ensure all of this had not been for nothing.
I'm sorry , he offered the corpses. There will be no justice for you. But perhaps your deaths can help bring peace.
“Find them,” he ordered Soundwave. “Let's get our cyberhounds on proper leashes.”
One day Megatron feared he'd look in the mirror and see a Decepticon symbol where his face should be. But if all it took to end this was a few pieces of his soul, that was a small price to pay.
###
Optimus came back online in the same spot he'd fallen into recharge. He grimaced. The pain chip’s coding was wearing off. He checked his chronometer. Malfunctioning. Less than ideal, but his self repair had been working while he’d been out. He could turn his head and his torso farther before something internal complained. Couldn't move his leg, but it hurt less even without the pain chip. So clearly some time had passed.
Long enough for his comrades to find him. A void formed in his tanks. If they weren't here, had something happened? Had they run into Decepticons? Ignored Starscream's instructions? The latter seemed unfortunately likely. Optimus ex-vented. Maybe there was a way to contact them himself?
He tried his internal comms and found them fried. Unsurprising but annoying. Optimus leaned back and tried to see if he could enter recharge again, reroute some self-repair systems to reprioritize his communication array.
The second he did he noticed a second alert in the corner of his HUD. He hadn't seen the first one but he realized belatedly that alert was what had awoken him in the first place.
His audials had pinged a signal. Pedesteps. Voices.
Coming closer.
Hope bloomed in his chest along with dread. Were they Autobots or Decepticons?
Optimus couldn't afford to just wait to find out.
He gritted his dentae and tried to force himself up. Awkward with one leg that wouldn't bend and so many damaged motor actuators. Pain lanced through his frame, and he swallowed a cry that might have given away his presence.
There wasn't anywhere to go besides the quarry, currently blocked by fallen rubble. Half-slumped, Optimus pulled out his axe. He wedged it in between two stones and was relieved when they actually gave way. He could clear a path.
Through the pain he dialed up his audials. His spark sank.
“—creepy down here. Didn't you hear the commander talk about that big sparkeater with the drills? Or the predacon?”
“C'mon, Scrapper. That's a load of slag. Commander’s a coward. He probably just didn't want to admit he got messed up by a turbofox.”
Scrapper. And another one of the Constructicons. Long Haul, maybe? Optimus wasn't sure and he didn't want to find out. He redoubled his efforts, but his frame could only move half as fast as his processor wanted it to.
A rock fell, taking with it a pile of loose rubble. It echoed loudly down the tunnel. Optimus cringed.
“You hear that?” Long Haul said.
“Aw, slag, you think it's—”
Optimus shoved himself into the opening he'd made. It was barely big enough for him to fit. Rough stone scraped his paint and abused armor. But he managed to squeeze through.
When he saw the quarry his jaw dropped behind his mask.
It looked like the place had become wax, melted and frozen in dripping, smooth curves. The ceiling had sealed itself, as had most of the tunnels granting access. In the center was a massive crater, scorched black. The rest of the floor was dotted with more unidentifiable piles of liquified and reformed metal.
Guilt stabbed through Optimus. Any one of these shapes could have been one of his Autobots. He hadn't even tried to save them. He'd sacrificed them for his own life. And for Starscream's, an enemy each of them would have been prepared to kill and would have expected him to do the same. That only compounded the betrayal.
“What was that?”
Optimus groaned and took out his laser rifle. For defense, yes, but more because he could use it as a makeshift crutch. He found a tunnel entrance that hadn't been closed off and hobbled towards it, dragging his unbending leg and scraping his rifle butt on the floor.
He climbed into the tunnel and curled into a shadow. This wasn't good. If he was discovered in this state, he'd barely be able to put up a fight. But if he ventured too far, his Autobots wouldn't know where to look for him. This explosion closing off certain paths might explain their delay. They might still be coming. He couldn’t just leave but nor could he stay.
Of course once he was out of sight his frame made the choice for him. His joints seized and forced him to the ground. He wheezed, shutting off power to his vocalizer to keep from screaming.
“What the frag happened here?” Scrapper said.
Don't come this way , Optimus willed. He couldn't be seen. For his sake and for Starscream's.
“We should report this.”
“Yeah,” Long Haul agreed. “Get Shockwave looking at it. And out of the base. He creeps up the place.”
“I told you this whole place has bad…”
Optimus stopped listening. The Matrix throbbed in his chest. Energy demanding release, demanding to be used.
He clutched at the seam, huddling around it so its light wouldn't give him away. He needed its power, but fear kept it blocked. After what he'd nearly done…if he couldn't trust his senses…
Let us save you.
There is too much at stake to falter now.
You cannot fall.
Too much at stake.
The voices reached a fever pitch that made Optimus want to split open his helm just to release the pressure. Even if he heard his mentor’s voice in the din, he couldn't know for sure it was Alpha Trion. His processor felt like it was going to explode as catastrophically as the predacon’s spark.
It's alright.
Optimus paused.
Hold onto me.
He knew that voice. It was Orion's, it was Optimus Prime's, it was his own.
It had been so quiet for so long. He'd thought it drowned for good until recently.
Until Starscream, somehow, coaxed it out again.
It felt mad, but he couldn’t deny the reality. Starscream made him himself again. The banter, the small touches, the little frustrations and joys. Maybe it was because Starscream was just as forbidden to Optimus as the mech he'd once been. Optimus Prime should have abandoned them both, but apparently he couldn't. Now he didn't even want to.
Optimus anchored himself to that voice and let the waves of primal energy wash over him.
###
Despite the base’s relatively small size, it still felt empty to Megatron. He knew his troops avoided him when possible. The only exception was Starscream, but he was in a mood, so Megatron had hardly seen his second since the storage room.
“You never used to touch my wings.”
And you never used to lie to me.
Or try to kill him, which should have been the greater concern. Those attempts should have cost Starscream his life long ago, but Megatron couldn’t ever bring himself to extinguish that spark. It wasn’t as simple as care, not anymore. An addiction maybe. Devotion. They had that if nothing else. Maybe the last thing they did have.
Devotion need not be a positive thing.
That sounded like something he might have written, back in the day. Megatron hadn’t thought about writing in…he couldn’t remember how long it had been.
It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered besides finding Optimus Prime. His enemy was here, regardless of what Starscream said. Megatron could feel it, and if he had to tear apart this entire planet to find Prime, he would. Killing the false god-king was the only way to end this farce of a war. It was the only way to show the universe that the Decepticons were the rightful rulers of Cybertron. The old order crushed, the divine made profane. Prime’s ideals and hypocrisy exposed as the deceptions they were and had always been.
The image of Optimus Prime finally dead at his pedes made him feel an odd mix of emotions. Triumph, thrill, but a kind of melancholy. For all of Optimus’ foolishness, he was the only other mech in the galaxy who understood what it was to lead. The sacrifices they made, the masks they became. What it was to be not just a bot but a symbol. Megatron would miss knowing that he wasn’t entirely alone.
He strode down the empty corridor until he reached one of the former labs. He stopped when he saw Shockwave’s blocky silhouette hunched over a small console.
“What data have you salvaged?” Megatron asked.
Shockwave slowly turned to regard him with that strange, single-opticked stare. His EM field gave away nothing but a faint buzz of interest, likely directed towards his work.
“Some data has been corrupted beyond recovery,” he said. “My previous efforts obviously involved catastrophic security errors, however there are some intriguing preliminary results.”
Megatron nodded. He should discipline Shockwave for using resources on this little project without his consent. However, Shockwave’s initiative occasionally produced powerful marvels. It was not something Megatron wanted to discourage.
“I would like to continue my research.” Shockwave added, “With your permission, Lord Megatron.”
The title. He really did want to keep this project. Megatron made a show of glancing at the console, to see if he could discern any of the “results” that had Shockwave so invested. He could not.
“I will consider your request,” Megatron said. Not an outright denial, in case Shockwave decided to take more initiative . Megatron did not want to deal with disciplining Shockwave for outright insubordination, so he left the door open a crack in case Shockwave got excited. However, this research was costly and ethically dubious even by Megatron’s now-abysmal standards. He would need proof of the potential benefits before he officially allowed the research to go on.
When he turned to go, he saw Soundwave standing in the doorway.
“My investigation is complete, Lord Megatron.”
It was still difficult for Megatron to read Soundwave’s monotone, even after all these years. “And? What have you discovered?”
Soundwave took a datapad out of his subspace. He held onto it, rather than hand it over. Which did not bode well.
Each second that dragged by made Megatron’s tank twist one notch tighter.
He extended his hand. “Give it to me.”
Soundwave shifted. “Perhaps a private venue would—”
“ Now .”
Soundwave’s arm extended. Megatron took the datapad, readying himself for news bad enough to make the last bot in the world he trusted hesitate.
He looked.
Rage clenched his hand so hard that he shattered the glass.
###
Starscream was going to purge if he had to drink one more cube of this planet’s damn energon.
The loading bay had become a sort of mess hall, so there was usually someone there at all hours. Normally this would have been ample reason to avoid the place, but right now Starscream did not want to give Megatron a chance to catch him alone again. Not that Megatron wouldn’t beat the slag out of him in public—he would and he had—but he wouldn’t say anything about them . Right now Starscream would rather get his canopy punched out than try to deal with his and Megatron’s relationship.
Luckily no one tried to talk to him. He’d claimed a corner with a makeshift table and chair as his own and was pretending to read a datapad. His mind kept wandering away from the words. Mostly towards Optimus. It had been more than enough time for the Autobots to rescue him. They better have rescued him. Once Optimus recovered, someone would send Megatron a report that his rival was back and they could finally get back to business as usual.
Starscream might have been jealous of all this effort on Optimus Prime’s behalf once. Back before he’d realized Megatron’s obsession wasn’t something to be desired. Other bots had earned a portion of it in the past, besides Starscream. Deadlock, Nightbird, and of course Optimus. As far as Starscream knew Megatron hadn’t fragged any of them. Although he could be wrong. He tried to decide if he’d be angry if Megatron had.
In the beginning, yes, he would have clawed out Megatron’s optics. Later, though…now? Now he would just pity them. Welcome to possibly the worst club in the galaxy.
Starscream rested his chin on his hand. He’d have to figure out a way to contact Optimus on the sly once he made it back. He did not trust the big fool to do anything stealthily enough that his lieutenants wouldn’t catch on. Not without Starscream’s help. And Starscream emphatically did not want those fraggers sticking their noses into his business. Once Starscream and Optimus had a way to meet again, he could enact the rest of his plan.
Not that he was in a rush to do so. He could entertain a few more of Optimus’ offers . So long as they included less talking and more other activities. Starscream felt a faint static charge in his ports. Clearly Optimus knew more than Starscream would have guessed about pleasing a frame. Once they were in finally in a place where nothing was trying to kill them, Starscream would happily let Optimus take his time to explore. His hip ports, the protoform of his waist and neck. Starscream hadn’t been allowed to sink his dentae into soft, yielding throat cables in far too long. He wondered if Optimus would allow it. As long as he promised not to draw any energon—
“Enjoying your reading?”
Starscream nearly dropped the datapad. His spark rate shot up, and did not go down when he turned to see Megatron, with Soundwave in his shadow.
“Yes, as a matter of fact I was.” Starscream turned off the screen and hoped Megatron wouldn’t ask him about the contents. “What do you want?”
“A second-in-command with some respect for authority,” Megatron replied. “However I make do with what I have. Come with me.”
Starscream considered being petulant and insisting on finishing his energon, but this didn’t seem like the time to challenge Megatron in front of the troops. Starscream didn’t actually want to drink this stuff anyway.
He followed Megatron and Soundwave through the base. Unease tingled up his spinal strut.
“What exactly are we doing?” Starscream demanded.
Megatron didn’t look back. “Following up on a report.”
A report? From whom? Starscream should have been paying more attention to the deployments. Who had returned recently? He looked at Soundwave, but of course his visored face gave him nothing to work with.
The unease got worse when he realized where they were going. He said nothing, in case his mind was making connections on its own, but no, they stepped into the room with the mineshaft entrance. Scrap.
Shockwave stood at the controls to the elevator. He activated the machine, then stepped onto the platform with the rest of them. Starscream tried not to let the anxiety in his EM field show.
He reminded himself it could be worse. If Optimus had been found, Megatron would be insufferably gloating. If they’d run into Autobots there’d be a full deployment, not just the four of them. They’d probably just found some energon or scraped paint.
Or the remains of several sparkeaters.
Darkness swallowed them until Soundwave turned on a powerful lamp mounted to his shoulder. The familiar tunnel opened up before them. Soundwave took the lead, Megatron behind him. Starscream wanted to take up the rear, but Shockwave apparently wasn’t about to allow that.
“You interrupted my afternoon fuel for this?” Starscream complained loudly. On the off chance Optimus was still down here somewhere, Starscream wanted the idiot to have some warning. “Mines. Do you really think Optimus Prime is hiding in a tunnel? Right underneath a Decepticon base? Megaton, I know you like to underestimate your opponents, but this is ridiculous.”
“Believe me, Starscream, I have not underestimated my opponent. If anything I’ve given him too much faith.”
“Hmph. Not something I would have expected of you.”
The longer they went the tighter the tunnel seemed to become. Starscream’s spark jumped into his throat when they reached the end and he saw the energon staining the ground and wall. Dulled, but the smell remained.
“Alright fine,” he said. “Clearly someone was here. Oh look, red paint scraped off on a rock. Incontrovertible evidence.” Optimus had crawled through the rubble. No, plenty of Autobots were red. It didn’t have to be Optimus. The point was he wasn’t here. Thank Primus. “However, this is all old, so unless I see an Autobot symbol soon, I’m going back.”
Shockwave’s bulk blocked the way. Starscream was about to shove his way past, but Megatron seized his arm and squeezed.
“You aren’t going anywhere,” he hissed.
Megatron dragged Starscream through the opening, over the rubble and into the now barely recognizable quarry. His shoulder joint strained as Megatron roughly tossed him to the now smooth floor. Starscream fell hard on one of his elbows.
“Has your processor glitched?” he snapped. “What—”
“Did you really think I wouldn’t find out?” Megatron roared.
Starscream flinched and nearly covered his audials. “Find out about what?”
Megatron’s pede collided with his middle, wrenching his tanks. He tasted the bitter, half-processed energon rise in the back of his throat. Starscream managed to bring his arms up to cover his canopy glass before the next kick came and sent him to skidding across the floor. He winced as a wing scraped the stone.
Megatron planted his pede on Starscream’s chest and stomped down, denting one of his turbines. “I always knew you were a devious creature. I know you were honorless, a liar to your very spark, but to think even I believed there were still depths you would not sink to!”
Starscream cried out, from pain but also to appease Megatron’s fury. This wasn’t like the interrogation in the storeroom. Megatron was certain of something. He wasn’t holding back.
“Please, Megatron, tell me what it is so I can explain!”
Megatron bent down and wrapped his fingers around Starscream’s throat. He hoisted him into the air and Starscream gasped, trying to find purchase on the ground but his legs just kicked empty air. His own weight and Megatron’s hand crushed his throat and made his processor throb.
“Yes, Starscream. Explain this.”
Soundwave stepped forward and extended his hand. A holoimage appeared from the projector in his palm.
Starscream’s lines went cold.
The security camera feed in the storeroom. Angled high, with a clear view of Starscream sitting across Optimus’ thighs. Optimus’ hand was midway between Starscream’s hip and his back. Starscream caressing a strong silver jaw.
“That’s not—that isn’t what it looks like!” Starscream forced out through his strangled vocalizer. “Lord Megatron—”
“ Lord now, is it?” Megatron growled. “Is that what you called him while you were opening your panels?”
“I didn’t!” Starscream scrambled to try and figure out where he’d gone wrong. The cameras weren’t supposed to record! He’d checked, he’d wiped any incriminating data! Yet the evidence was staring right at him, thanks to Soundwave who couldn’t even be bothered to meet his optics.
“Lord Megatron, let me explain!”
“Go on, you venomous wretch. Make this good.”
Starscream processor was swimming from lack of energon. Heat built as Megatron’s choking grasp cut off coolant. “I—I had no choice. It was the only way to survive, I swear to you.”
That lie sat sour on his glossa. After Optimus had tried so damn hard not to force him. But if it kept Megatron from off-lining him, Optimus would probably be forgiving.
“And the transmission you erased?” Megatron demanded. “He forced you to do that too?”
Starscream was going to kill Soundwave.
He swung his legs and tried to activate his thruster. Megatron was prepared and slammed Starscream back into the ground, crushing his throat and sending a jolt of agony through his spinal strut. Starscream gasped weakly. Megatron’s face twisted with a rage even Starscream hadn’t seen before. He wasn’t talking his way out of this. The beating was coming, he just had to bear it.
It was perversely flattering that Megatron gave any sort of a damn.
“I never wanted it to come to this,” Megatron growled. “I wanted to think you were better, despite all evidence to the contrary.”
“I’m sorry,” Starscream cried. “Please—”
Megatron’s hand cracked across his face. “Pathetic.” Another strike. “Disgusting. Disgraceful!” He hauled Starscream’s face towards his by his collar-faring. “But not useless.”
The room slid by as Starscream’s wrist was crushed in Megatron’s grip. He dangled, unable to get his legs under him to support his weight.
“Prime!” Megatron’s voice echoed. “I know you’re here! Come and get your pleasure construct. Before I start ripping pieces off.”
“Frag you.” Starscream wanted to say, but he bit his glossa. Optimus wasn’t here. He couldn’t be. Even if he was, Starscream begged him not to appear. Whatever Megatron did to him could be fixed. Probably. But Megatron would kill Optimus, and maybe Starscream too once his energon got pumping. Starscream loathed begging, but he would do it if it kept him alive. If it kept both of them alive.
“What should I tear off first?” Megatron called. “A finger? A hand.” He grabbed the base of Starscream’s wing. “Or one of these?”
“No! No, no, please—!”
Pain exploded across his back. Metal groaned as Megatron’s strength tested and tortured the joints of Starscream’s wing. His screams became incoherent, words fleeing him as fire filled his lines.
Stop! Stop, stop, stop—
“MEGTARON!”
The twisting stopped, though the pain barely faded. Terror overwhelmed Starscream’s senses. He reset his optics, clearing the static and turning towards the voice he hoped he’d hallucinated.
He only became more sure he was hallucinating when he saw the corona around Optimus Prime. He stood tall, awash with a blue glow from every seam. Starscream had trouble looking directly at him, he was so bright. His orange energy axe hung from one hand. His rifle in the other.
Starscream had never believed the matrix made one a god, but right now Optimus looked like something holy. And furious. For a moment Starscream feared him almost as much as Megatron.
“Let him go,” Optimus ordered.
Starscream suddenly remembered what was happening. Why was Optimus still here? Stupid Autobots! Starscream was never trusting any of them with anything important ever again, for Primus’ sake.
Optimus included because he was about to make things so much worse.
Megatron’s hold on his EM field broke so suddenly it hit Starscream nearly as hard as the warlord’s fists. Vicious rage, satisfaction, and anticipation. A roiling undercurrent that contained too much for Starscream to parse addled as he was, but he knew far too much of it was directed at him for comfort.
“Drop your weapons.” Megatron grinned. “And I’ll consider it.”
“Don’t!” Starscream tried to say, but his voice came out as a binaric screech. Megatron dragged him up by his throat again. He shoved the barrel of his fusion canon in Starscream’s face. Static crackled in the air as the weapon slowly powered up.
“Before I lose my patience,” Megatron said.
Optimus lifted his axe, then released it. Because of course he did. It hit the ground with a dull thud. Starscream tried to struggle out of Megatron’s grip while he was distracted, grasping at his arm with the hand that wasn’t twitching thanks to the crushed servos in his wrist.
The rifle came next, pointed towards the ground as Optimus prepared to drop it.
Starscream stared down the fusion cannon.
Then remembered he knew where it latched onto Megatron’s arm.
As Megatron focused his attention on Optimus, Starscream’s hand darted out and powered down the first magnetic attachment. The heavy cannon fell to one side, dragging Megatron’s arm by the second mag-latch. It weakened Megatron’s fingers just enough for Starscream to pry them off and fall to the ground.
The muzzle of Optimus’ laser rifle flew up and fired.
###
Optimus didn’t have much time to aim. Megatron recoiled as the shot hit his shoulder, but it wouldn’t be enough to slow him down for long. If it distracted him from Starscream, good enough.
“Come and face me, coward!” Optimus called, and sure enough Megatron took the bait, charging at him with thundering pedefalls.
Optimus readied himself, then grunted as something impacted his arm. Another shot. Soundwave. Scrap. Optimus hadn’t accounted for him. He threw himself to the side to avoid the blaster fire, but Megatron was bearing down on him. His leg was still stiff. Though the pain was a distant echo of what it should have been. Optimus felt little besides the thrum of power beneath his armor. The Matrix, the Primes, threatening to swallow him, but so long as he remembered himself—Orion, Starscream, the reason he was here—he could keep his helm clear.
What he couldn’t do was fight Megatron and Soundwave and—
His spark sank.
Shockwave.
Megatron sensed his hesitation and his grin widened. Optimus had dodged away from his axe. Stupid. He didn’t need to beat Megatron for Starscream to get away, but deep in his spark he knew he himself would never be allowed to retreat. Not if Megatron was functional.
An object appeared on Optimus’ HUD alert. Something fist-sized, oblong, falling from above. Optimus instinctively prepared for a grenade, throwing himself back and covering his face.
He was right, after a fashion. But instead of exploding in fire or shrapnel, the object burst in a cloud of thick smoke. The gas filled the quarry, turning the mechs into fuzzy outlines and choking Optimus’ vents.
Megatron bellowed in frustration. Optimus could vaguely see his bio lights. He dashed to avoid them, which nearly caused him to crash into a smaller mech.
“Hey, boss-mech.”
“Jazz?”
Otpimus leaned close enough to make out a blue visor and a cocky grin. He heard two more smoke grenades go off, making the pale gray cloud even thicker.
“One and only,” Jazz replied. “You really gave us a scare. C’mon, team’s here to extract. I got us our exit.”
“No,” Optimus said. “Not without Starscream.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
Optius didn’t have time to explain. He tore off into the smoke. “Starscream!”
He tried to pick the direction where Starscream had been lying. He stumbled now that he couldn't see where he was stepping. Something sharp cut the bottom of his pede. It didn’t matter. Starscream had to be close.
A shape resolved itself in the smoke. Wide, but not Megatron. Worse, in some ways.
Shockwave leveled his gun-arm at Optimus’ spark. Optimus crossed his arms over his chest just as the bolt impacted. Burning, but not debilitating.
So many voices screamed at him to fire back, but one begged him to wait. Optimus couldn’t move.
“Shockwave,” his voice cracked. “I remember. I kept my promise, I still remember you.”
Shockwave’s cold yellow optic stared as his gun powered again.
“I think it’s time you forgot.”
A red bolt hit Shockwave’s arm. The gun sparked and Shockwave let out a grunt. Optimus fought the urge to run towards him, instead following the path of the shot that he knew came from a nullray.
“Starscream!”
###
Starscream heard his name.
“Optimus!” He was going to strangle that idiot when he got his hands on him. After he kissed him so hard he forgot the name of Primus. “Optimus!”
This smoke must be the Autobots. Cutting it a little close! Starscream needed to find Optimus quickly, before one of them shot him. His internal gyros were off kilter thanks to Megatron, so he stumbled as he walked, not helped by the pain in his wing throwing off all his atmospheric and directional sensors.
He limped towards Optimus’ voice. He had to be close. Starscream wasn’t even sure if Optimus could hear him, but he called his name anyway.
“I already told you, you aren’t going anywhere.”
Starscream spun and nearly collided with Megatron. No. Slag it, not now! Starscream tried to run, but Megatron took him by his twisted wing. Starscream tried to cry out, but again his vocalizer glitched.
The barrel of his null ray found Megatron’s side. Starscream fired. The brute barely flinched as he pulled Starscream towards the edge of the smoke cloud.
Starscream back hit the wall as static covered his vision. When he could see again he was met with Megatron’s face. Angry, yes, but his dentae were clenched with enough pain that Starscream wondered if his shot had hit something important.
Megatron opened his mouth as if to speak. No words emerged. Instead he lifted the fusion cannon that was now in his hand and pressed it above Starscream’s spark chamber.
“Megatron,” Starscream muttered in disbelief. “What are you—”
The cannon fired a blast straight through Starscream’s chest.
###
Someone was screaming.
Optimus realized it was probably him.
Starscream crumpled and fell to his side, leaving a trail of energon smeared on the wall. The fusion cannon hung loosely in Megatron’s grip. He turned sluggishly.
Right in time for his face to meet Optimus’ fist.
The crack reverberated around the chamber as Optimus punched Megatron hard enough to snap the metal of his helmet. Megatron reeled, tried to ready a defense, but Optimus landed another blow under his chin. He shoved his shoulder into Megatron’s torso, sending him crashing to the ground.
Optimus wanted to keep fighting. He wanted to pummel Megatron until he was as unrecognizable as the melted sparkeater corpses around them.
He didn’t. Because the only voice in his head that mattered was screaming “Get him away. Get him out of here!”
Optimus scooped Starscream into his arms and ran.
He barely knew where he was going. Shots were ringing out all around him now. More Autobots, difficult to make out in the mist but he saw Hound next to Jazz, Bumblebee, Ironhide, and a shape that might have been Mirage. Soundwave’s cassettes had joined the fray. Doubtless more reinforcements were coming.
It didn’t matter. Starscream was hurt. Optimus pulled him into the nearest cave he could see and shouted as loudly as he could.
”RATCHET!”
Optimus laid Starscream on his back. There was no way Ratchet would have let himself be left behind. Not on a mission to rescue him. Optimus just needed to get him here. Starscream was hurt, but Ratchet could fix it. He always did.
“It’s alright,” Optimus leaned over Starscream. “I have you.”
Starscream’s optics were dark. His frame was limp, not responding at all to Optimus’ touch. The edges of the massive wound in his chest were burned black, cauterized by the heat of the fusion blast. Optimus’ tanks churned. He could see the components of Starscream’s internals.
Including the faintly sputtering spark, bare in its damaged chamber.
Optimus felt doused with cold oil. He shouldn’t be seeing this. Not the most intimate part of Starscream’s being. Not without permission. But he couldn’t look away while grayish pallor fell over the once-bright crimson.
“Starscream, I’m here. I'm here, alright? Hold on for me. I know you don't trust Autobot medics, but Ratchet is the best, he won't do anything to—”
“Optimus!”
Relief fought against despair as Ratchet fell in next to him. He reached for Optimus, diagnostic cable ready, but Optimus pushed him away.
“He’s injured,” Optimus had to force the words out. Suddenly it hurt to speak.
Ratchet’s optics widened in confusion, then narrowed as he took in Optimus hovering over Starscream’s frame, trying to shield his spark from prying eyes and stray shots.
“Help him.” Optimus knew he was begging and he didn’t care.
Ratchet’s mouth fell open. He stared down and shook his head.
“Optimus,” he said. “I can’t fix this.”
“No, no, please, you can! You have to try.”
“I can’t.” He sounded so gentle as his words twisted the knife in Optimus’ core. “Not when the spark is—”
He paused. Looked closer at the weak flickering. He took out a blinking diagnostic device from his subspace and took a reading.
“The frag? Optimus back up!”
Optimus obeyed, falling on his aft in his haste to clear away. Ratchet’s hands were a blur, tracing over exposed components then removing a series of devices from a medical pack. A metal brace, a medical torch, med grade, and a tightly folded silver tarp.
He glanced back at Optimus. “This probably won’t work,” he warned. “And you’re gonna have some explaining to do.”
“I know.” Optimus nodded. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet.”
Everything except Ratchet, Starscream, and their little shelter became a blur. Starscream couldn’t…he couldn’t die. Not like this. Optimus has promised, promised , not to let Starscream come to harm because of this! Because of him.
It was always going to end this way.
It’s not over.
He was a coward.
He was brave.
He is —
“Yeah I hear you, but I’ve got a patient!” Ratchet snapped as he welded something into place. “Not Optimus, it's—shut up and let me concentrate!”
Who was he…comms, right. Optimus still didn’t have those. He should be doing something useful. He should be guarding the entrance.
It was good that he wasn’t, because the moment he tried he very nearly shot Jazz in the face.
“Mind telling me what’s going on?” Jazz would have sounded chipper had Optimus not seen the way his smile tugged forcefully at the corners of his mouth.
Optimus moved to block his view. Ratchet was necessary, but Starscream deserved someone making sure no one else saw his soul so vulnerable.
“Help me wrap this up.” Ratched called. Optimus immediately turned from an increasingly annoyed Jazz and saw Ratchet twisting the tarp tightly around Starscream’s chest. “I just used a limb brace to reinforce a spark chamber that’s hanging onto the chest cavity by threads! So if you jostle him too much and it comes loose I’m gonna be slagging angry.”
Optimus lifted Starscream slightly so Ratchet could slip the tarp under his back. They struggled with his wings, but they managed.
Which was good, because it sounded like a lot more blasters were firing now than there had been a few moments ago.
“Reinforcements,” Jazz sucked in a vent. “That’s our cue to go, team! Skyfire’s in position for evac. Looks like we’re taking this tunnel, now.”
Optimus only vaguely heard the rest of Jazz’s orders to the squad. He stood, finials brushing the top of the cave. He pressed Starscream securely to his chest, holding him tightly as he dared. His frame felt light. Like the mass had bled out of it.
“Stay with me,” he begged silently as the din of battle slipped away behind him.