Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Panic.

He was panicking.

Cycling his optics he dragged his claws up over his chassis. His coding screaming and his HUD filled with warnings.

He couldn’t stay, he wouldn’t. Not if he wanted to live. Not if he wanted these sparklings to survive.

Then again, why does he want them to survive? If he snuffed them out before they formed enough to move to his cockpit then there wouldn’t be a problem. He couldn’t though, his coding rearing its ugly head in a way that had the seeker’s wings trembling. The added stress of the idea caused his sensory-net to go haywire, it hurt.

His sparklings weren’t safe here. He had given this place enough chances, he couldn’t stay.

Again, his coding bit at him. It hissed and racked its talons into his spark, thrashing about like a snared turbofox. It held distaste at him for even thinking about leaving his one source of safety, his ‘trine’. Unfortunately, his trine was long dead and the two mechs that his coding was grasping on as trine members were the two most untrustworthy mechs in his life. Megatron, the sire of his little sparklings, and Soundwave.

Megatron, despite being the sire, couldn’t be trusted with a minicon, let alone a sparkling. Let alone two. Pit, Megatron would snuff out the sparklings himself.

His claws slammed down into his desk, shrieking against the metal. Primus had to be fragging with him, why can’t he ever have a peaceful moment! Why can’t slag ever go his way! Why does Megatron always ruin everything!

His code suddenly goes quiet, as though finally understanding that there was never a trine to fall back on. His coding, for once gave way to logic, and settled, now only fretting over the usual carrier protocols. He needed a safe space, a place to nest. Somewhere with food, energon, metals. One of their abandoned mines housed a scraplet nest, it would be a perfect spot for the seeker, for his sparklings.

By his calculations he had about two lunar cycles - months humans had called them - before his sparklings emerged.

Primus, things had been going so well, things had been running smoothly and then Megatron came back with that dark energon. He turned into a completely different mech. Loyalty and progress and what does he get in response? Forced into a berth and made out as shareware.

A tremor rushes through his plating at the reminder, denta grinding as his wings attempt to shake off the ghostly touches with a violent twitch.

Starscream could handle the pressure if it meant his flockmates were cared for. As much as he and Dreadwing butted heads, he cared for his flockmate, cared enough to defy Megatron and end up with the punishment that led him here. He couldn’t desecrate Skyquake like that, he refused, for the sake of Dreadwing and himself.

But now, things had changed. Megatron had changed for the worst and had pulled a move so low that even Soundwave seemed a bit repulsed. There’s only telling how much lower he would go and Starscream wasn’t going to risk his sparklings, no matter the sire, nor Dreadwing and the others for some psychotic fragger high off his aft. He was still for the Decepticon cause, but Megatron had taken that and spat on it.

With a deep intake, he cycled his vents. The silence seeping into the air helped him calm, the sound of his ventilations being the only solemn noise helped him relax. He takes a few moments to glance around his quarters, taking in everything.

He could perhaps take his insulation blanket and wrap some keepsakes in them. What would he bring..? A few datapads perhaps, most of his research was already downloaded into his systems. His optics flitter over his work space before they land on what he’s searching for and his vents stutter.

His trinemates belongings still sat neatly on his desk, untouched by time. Skywarp’s bottle of gold and oil stood eerily still, gold settled at the bottom and Thundercracker’s necklace was still tightly wrapped around it, adorned with the trine’s first lost fangs. Oh how he wished these sparklings were theirs, but they were long gone.

He cycles his optics again before digging his claws further into his desk. It was time to leave, he’d attempt to contact his flockmates later if he could. He knew Dreadwing was stationed somewhere on the opposite side of the galaxy and Ramjet’s trine was a couple hundred planetary systems away.

He tried to calculate a good portion of what to bring, wrapping up his belongings in the insulation blanket before shoving it into his subspace. He’d need a full tank before he slipped away so he’d have to scrounge a bit but he could manage that just fine.

He almost swings out of his quarters before he stops, looking at the datapad laid out on his desk. Vorns of work were buried in that little device, blueprints and battle strategies.

He steps back in, claws scraping over the screen before he gingerly lifts the device into his servos. He wouldn’t bring it with him, he had everything already downloaded of course, but that didn’t mean he should leave it.

All it took was one quick movement and the pad snapped in half, electricity sizzling from the wires as the material scattered over the floor. He wouldn’t give Megatron the satisfaction of getting rid of him and having his work. Not a chance, he nearly mutters to himself as he carefully fishes out the memory chip. It doesn’t take much effort to crush it in his servos. A declaration.

He drops it with a grimace, stomping on it for good measure before he finally leaves his habsuite. He develops a new stride, pedesteps quiet yet his back strut is straightened and his wings fanned out to demand space as he walks past a group of vehicons. He can barely keep himself from lashing out at them, fear boiling into rage that has long gone unchecked.

He manages to keep his cool, just barely.

“Herr Kommandant.” Slag. He resists the urge to drag his servo over his face. Of course it had to be Knockout.

“What do you want?” His voice comes out snippy, grating. His voice box was still very damaged from that night, he refused to let Knockout touch his throat however, much less Hook.

Knockout raises his servos and Starscream straightens himself further, glaring down at the medic. “I just came to check on our esteem benefactor.”

“Well your good graces are going to waste, I am doing just fine.” Starscream lets his wings fall into a more comfortable position, ignoring the way his spark churns in its chamber. A warning pops up on his HUD, marking Knockout a danger to his sparklings which has the seeker tense before he forces himself to relax.

“I just came to make sure, you still haven’t come to the medbay after your most recent beating… despite your obvious damage.” Knockout makes a motion towards Starscream’s throat and the seeker nearly smacks his hand.

“Despite your concerns, I am doing fine.” The seeker flicks his wings and to any other seeker it would convey his annoyance. Unfortunately, Starscream was the only Seeker currently on the Nemesis.

Knockout seems rather disbelieving as Starscream only continues on his trek, thrusters clicking against the metal. He turns his back on the medic as he continues towards the canteen. “Didn’t you already have your fill of energon?”

“I’m a seeker you imbecile, I require much more energon than you grounders. My tanks are low so I am seeking fuel, you’re being awfully nosy.” His wings tighten against his back.

“Yes well, you’re being rather prickly this morning.” Knockout begins following him, how wonderful. “If this about what happened-“

Starscream immediately whirls around, pointing a talon to the mech’s chassis. “You are to keep your intake shut, understand me?”

The grounder all but jerks upright, brushing away Starscream’s servo. “Yes yes, of course… where have my manners gone.”

Exventing in frustration, Starscream simply continues all the while pointedly ignoring Knockout’s questioning look. Their pedesteps eventually fall in sync with one another, Knockout eventually rattling on about some human movie he and Breakdown watched together. Starscream barely pays attention, his audials picking up information at the worst of moments.

The seeker does his best to stay focused but he does end up relaxing in the medic’s presence. Knockout and Breakdown were technically flockmates so of course Starscream would eventually grow comfortable from his initial stress. “And you say, the worm creatures weren’t alien lifeforms?”

“No, apparently they had been on the planet the entire time. Though they had rather strange names for the worms and their metamorphosis stages.” Knockout explains as they enter the canteen, servos gesturing as he speaks. The use of body language always calmed Starscream’s wires, it was a sweet reminder of his native dialect. “They called them Grabiods, Shriekers, and Ass Blasters… not exactly creative but what can you expect from humans.”

Starscream only offers a small hum of agreement as he snatches up two cubes on energon. It was a bit of a push, even for him, but his tanks were currently settled at little above fifty percent. The grounder doesn’t acknowledge his bold move, only watching as the seeker settles down to drink his cubes in peace.

Knockout still follows and it doesn’t take long for his conjunx - er assistant to take notice and join them. Oh who was Starscream kidding, the only person who didn’t know about the medic and stunticon was Megatron.

“You’ve been rather quiet lately, Starscream…” The seekers optics flick up to mech, latching onto Breakdown with a questioning glare. “I just mean, you haven’t tried to kick Lord Megatron out of the throne lately.”

“I’m not stupid enough to try that while he’s on the whole dark energon thing.” The seeker mutters in response, slowly finishing his first cube as Breakdown slightly grimaces at his words. “I likely won’t be making an attempt on his life for a long while so you can rest easy, Breakdown.”

Too focused on his second cube, he doesn’t notice the concerned glance the two share.

“Soooo, what’s on the agenda for today, Starscream?”

The seeker places his newly empty cup on the table, optics following his servo. “Patrol.”

“Are you not joining the meeting?” Starscream can hear the concern subtly lacing Knockout’s words.

“No.”

Before Knockout can continue speaking, the seeker raises to his pedes. Gathering his empty cups, he takes his leave taking only a moment to dispose of the empty cubes.

‘Fuel Level: 89%’

It would be good enough, Starscream decides. Now he just needed to make it to the hanger without further interruption.

That would prove to be easier than expected.

“Where is that treacherous pain in the aft?” Knockout nearly shudders at the agitation in Megatron’s voice.

Silence is the only thing that greets the Decepticon leader and his agitation quickly turns to aggression. The mech’s fist slam against the table, sending a crack along the middle. “Where is he?!”

“Lord Megatron, if I may,” the pointed glare nearly makes Knockout purge his tanks out of sheer fear, “Starscream announced to Breakdown and I earlier that he was going on patrol.”

“And how long ago was that?”

“About… a few joors ago, my liege.” Knockout backs off when the glare hardens.

Luckily, Megatron’s ire doesn’t stay on him for long. The overlord’s attention quickly flits to his third in command. “Soundwave.. please tell me you are aware of Starscream’s whereabouts. I grow weary of his games.”

The mech doesn’t respond for a few moments, likely quickly cutting together prerecorded messages. “Starscream’s signature: offline.”

“What do you mean his signature is offline?” Megatron’s voice becomes strained with anger.

“Starscream: removed or destroyed tracking device. Spark signature: no longer being read.” Comes the cut up voices in response.

For some reason, Knockout finds himself more relieved than worried.

Earth proved to be colder than he remembered it was from last month. It wasn’t horrible, manageable at the very least. Starscream just had a specific distaste for the cold, and well, it was the ‘winter’ season.

The mine itself however was rather warm and while the seeker wasn’t one for confined spaces, his carrier protocols had deactivated the claustrophobia that came with his primary coding. Still, he found himself a bit uneasy as he entered.

Scraplets shrieked in terror as he wandered down the mineshafts, the sight of the predator causing them to flee. A few scramble underneath his pedes, skittering away in little hiding spots. Despite himself, the seeker does take a second to grab one that had the unfortunate pleasure of running into his pede. It scrambles, attempting to get away by biting the seeker’s talon. Its squirming goes without reward as Starscream’s denta snaps onto its little head.

Energon gushes into his mouth and he swallows down the metals with a low rumble of his engine. He’s pleased when the metal moves smoothly into his crucible, slowly melting down as it slips through his frame. He needed to start keeping that ‘tank’ full from now on, his sparklings will be drawing from it to create their protoforms afterall.

Opening his intake, he swallows down the rest of the scraplet, thrusters carrying him further down the shaft.

Yes, this would do perfectly. Now all he had to do was fill his tanks, thank Primus for the little snacks running around.

“Get off my legs!”

“Well it would help if you weren’t taking up the entire couch!”

Beeping catches their attention, the mech’s annoyance obvious through his chirps alone. The two humans only huff, glaring at each other as Raf just laughs at their continuous head butting.

“I always find it funny when Bee scolds you two.” He grins, looking up from his homework.

Miko huffs and crosses her arms, taking the notion to nudge Jack with her foot. The older boy glares at her, shoving her legs aside so he can sit comfortably. As they scuffle, Bee moves over to gently set a new pack of pens by Raf’s backpack as he settles comfortably.

The bot and human take up in their own conversation as Miko and Jack are soon distracted by their own devices, the new pedesteps in the room going unnoticed.

Optimus watches the four with a fond aspiration, vents cycling as he moves to join Ratchet at the center computer. “Ratchet, did young Smokescreen and Arcee find anything interesting on their patrol?”

The medic barely suppresses an exasperated sigh, “Nothing out of the ordinary, Smokescreen said he spotted a plane flying rather low while near one of the energon mines but that specific mine is near one of Fowler’s bases, I assume it was just a training drill.”

The Prime gives a slow nod, moving a tad bit closer. He allows his battle mask to slip apart so he can press a small kiss to the side of his helm. Ratchet scoffs quietly at the affection but, despite that, he just barely leans against Optimus’ side.

“Ewww, the old men are flirting again!”

“Miko, be quiet.” Jack snips.

“Will you brats shut it!” Ratchet hisses, plating fluffing out defensively and Optimus can barely hold back the chuckle forming in his voice box. Bee gives a small chirp which can easily be taken as a laugh. Ratchet again, found himself pleased with the fact that most of their group was out of the base.

The giggles don’t go unnoticed of course, but he’s settled by Optimus’ hand resting on his shoulder plate. The peace was at least welcomed, a nice calm to their usual chaos.

‘Incoming communications: Agent Fowler’

Frag, there goes the peace.

Optimus is kind enough to allow the transmission to go through and immediately the entire base is met with Fowler’s rather angry expression. “Prime!”

The jump Optimus gives is amusing to say the least, to Ratchet that is. “Yes Agent Fowler?”

“One of those Decepti-creeps ate one of my damn planes!”

Well that certainly gathers the other’s attention. Bee lifts his head to look at the screen and Miko and Jack quickly jump off the sofa to further investigate.

“My apologies, Agent Fowler, I don’t believe I heard you correctly… you’re saying a Decepticon ate one of your jets?”

“Yes! They snuck in one of the hangers last night and then ate one of my planes!” The man seemed furious, Ratchet doesn’t blame him. “That’s seventy million dollars, Prime! Do I need to send you the footage?”

Optimus seems to pause before slowly nodding, “I.. Yes, the footage would give us details as to who we’re dealing with.”

It doesn’t take long for another incoming transmission to pop up, seems Fowler had it ready to go. Ratchet is the one that starts the video feed.

It’s late by the sight of the low light in the feed, two F-16s slowly being piloted into their hangar. There's no denying the fact they’re being humanly piloted either and there’s only one Decepticon on Earth that takes the form of that specific fighter jet.

The group watches as the humans exit the jets, high fiving each other as they move to leave the hangar. A few jorns are skipped over, night vision on the camera activating. Patience, something not most Decepticons had.

Then the sound of a T-cog whirrs, slow and hesitant the mech in the video transforms and Ratchet can say he was right in his assumption. It’s an uncomfortable fit for the seeker, having to bend his head down to fit in the hangar but he doesn’t seem the slightest bit bothered. No, he’s much too focused on his objective.

The seeker’s talons grab onto the jet that came in with him, scoring the metal as he leans down and bites hold onto one of the wings. The crunch of metal is poorly picked up by the camera’s audio systems but it’s easy to understand what’s happening when the seeker jerks his head back to swallow down the mouthful. The process repeats, and repeats until nearly half the wing is missing.

Then the seeker goes for the cockpit, shattering the glass before he actively moves to grab and swallow the shards like energon candy. It’s an uncomfortable sight to watch and even the humans at their pedes give a concerned look.

Then the seeker goes for the oil tanks, gouging them open like a wild Earth animal before eagerly gulping down the liquid like it’s life sustaining. He goes for every liquid tank in fact, hydrazine included, and after a few moments the seeker purges a disgusting glob of sludge, impurities. The sound of his voice box makes Ratchet cringe, it had obviously taken more damage since the last time he came in contact with the Decepticon. Though, the damage didn’t seem to stop the seeker from continuously devouring and destroying the jet.

The silence is broken by Bee’s worried chirps and beeps which is hastily translated by Raf to the other humans. “Um… Bee is wondering what’s happening and why Starscream is eating the jet?”

“I would like to know the same thing,” Fowler groans from the other side of the screen. Optimus tries to search his processor for answers but when he can’t find one he looks to Ratchet.

The medic has no idea why but there’s only one possible reason the seeker could be seeking out metals and other substances. “He might have a nasty internal injury, if that’s the case his nanites might not have the materials to repair him which lead him to this.” He makes a gesture towards the video feed. “It’s the only conclusion I think possible, but I’m not sure what kind of injury would require so much metal, he looks entirely intact to me.” And filthy, but Ratchet doesn’t add that. Though, he finds it odd that the seeker isn’t actively keeping up his appearance.

“That would perhaps explain the four year absence.” Optimus offers and Ratchet grimaces, nodding. “Agent Fowler, did you manage to see which direction Starscream went when he left the facility.”

“He was heading towards that old energon mine, the one with the uh.. scraplet nest.” Bee makes a sad noise at that. Even Optimus seemed concerned about that.

“What would he want with a scraplet nest?” Raf mutters.

“I bet you he’s a masochistic, probably likes them biting on him.” Miko whispers.

“I highly doubt that.” Jack responds, Bee chirping in agreement. After all no sane mech would willingly walk into a scraplet nest.

“Enough.” Ratchet snips, pointing a digit towards Bee and the humans. “If Starscream is injured and he hasn’t returned to the Nemesis then we need to offer him proper medical attention.”

“And by offering you mean forcing him?” Raf questions in a small mumble.

“Precisely.”

Chapter Text

"Why should we care about some washed-up ‘Con?"

"Because he’s still a Cybertronian, Smokescreen," Ratchet snaps. "And I’ll be slagged before I let an injured mech wander around untreated."

"This is Starscream we’re talking about, though—"

"Starscream is still a mech," Ratchet counters sharply.

Optimus steps in then, his voice steady but firm. "That being said, he is also a Decepticon. We must remain cautious, but if he requires assistance, be it minor or major, we cannot ignore it." His optics sweep across the gathered team. "We will treat Starscream with respect. As far as we know, he has had no contact with the Decepticon faction for the past four years."

Arcee crosses her arms. "And if he’s still the same treacherous ‘Con?"

"Then we will act accordingly," Optimus replies evenly. "He is entitled to his own choices, after all."

Silence hangs thick in the air before Jack clears his throat. "Alright, so… what’s the plan?"

Ratchet turns back to the computer, bringing up a set of coordinates. "We believe he’s holed up in an abandoned energon mine near Fowler’s base. Our goal is to either convince him to come willingly for medical attention or, if necessary, take him as a prisoner, treat him, and then let him go."

Miko hums, tapping her fingers against Bulkhead’s armor as she settles back against his shoulder. "So… like a catch-and-release? Like a stray cat?"

"That’d be nice," Wheeljack mutters, shaking his helm. "Would be a lot easier if it were any ‘Con but Starscream. That mech’s slippery, dangerous if cornered. I’ve had to chase him down before, and trust me, he bites."

"Which is why we need to approach this carefully," Ratchet warns, pointing a digit at the group. "I want calm and order. Do not start a brawl. The moment he becomes our patient, I expect him returned in one piece. If any of you punks rough him up, I will use you as spare parts."

There are shared looks of hesitation. Arcee glares but gives a stiff nod. "Fine. Then what’s the plan to catch him?"

Optimus looks to Ratchet for assistance only to be met with a dismissive wave of a servo. He clicks his denta together as he tries to reign in his thoughts, he hadn’t thought of how to actually get a hold of the seeker quite yet.

“You could maybe just walk to the mine, didn’t some soldiers do that once? Walk into enemy territory and get all buddy buddy?”

“That was for a holiday, Miko.” Jack responds, “I really doubt the bots can just walk up to Starscream’s current living space waving a white flag and expect the ‘con to suddenly be all chill.”

“What about sending one of us?” Raf offers, gathering everyone’s attention. “Starscream obviously doesn’t see humans as much of a threat considering he allowed one in his cockpit.”

“That is much too dangerous…”

“I think it’s a great idea.” Smokescreen grins and Arcee immediately jabs him in the side. “Ow- what! It’s the only idea we have so far.”

“We need to think of something that doesn’t involve the humans.” Arcee snips in response. Smokescreen pouts.

Optimus watches their interaction with a quiet exvent. His processor comes up with a few options as he listens to the discussion become an argument in the background, picking the best one is the true difficulty. Sending Bulkhead and Ratchet would provide strength, but if Starscream fled or fought back, they might not be the best for pursuit. A single bot could make the approach less hostile, but if things went sideways, subduing the seeker would be near impossible.

Nothing is fitting, every plan ends with Starscream either attacking or escaping.

Unless…

They could stake out the mine. The terrain offers vantage points where smaller bots could hide. Bumblebee and Smokescreen would be ideal. Smokescreen might be reckless, but Bumblebee could keep him in check. If they waited for Starscream to return or should he already be there, they could trap him, talk before he had a chance to flee.

Optimus nods to himself.

"Enough," he speaks above the murmuring. "Bumblebee and Smokescreen will make contact with Starscream. The rest of us will remain nearby as backup. Ratchet, Arcee, and the humans will stay here. We will bring energon as an offering, it may help ease his wariness."

"Smokescreen?!"

Ratchet levels an unamused glare at the Prime, but before he can voice his protest, Wheeljack speaks up. "You sure about putting the rookie on this job?"

"I’m right here," Smokescreen grumbles.

"Smokescreen is a capable fighter," Optimus assures. "If Starscream turns hostile, he will be able to handle it. And Bumblebee can instruct him on dealing with seekers. This will be a learning experience."

Ratchet narrows his optics. "Optimus, tell me you’re not using a potential disaster as a teachable moment."

Optimus offers a placating look, though there’s the faintest glimmer of amusement behind his optics. He is, but he won’t admit it. If there’s any bot who can give Smokescreen a lesson, it’s Starscream, injured or not.

As the humans say: two birds, one stone.

"That being said," Optimus continues, "Wheeljack, Bulkhead, and I will be stationed nearby should the situation escalate. Agreed?"

Bulkhead nods. "Sounds good to me."

Wheeljack scoffs. "Still think this is a terrible idea."

"Then why are you going along with it?" Miko teases.

Wheeljack gives her a dry look before exventing. "Because if I don’t, Ratchet’ll hit me with a wrench."

"You bet your aft I will," Ratchet grumbles.

Optimus stifles a chuckle. "Ratchet, prepare the ground bridge."

The medic pauses to peek at the Prime, seemingly making a quiet assessment before he does as requested. As he does so, he keeps on optics on the humans, specifically Miko who gives him the same mischievous smirk she gives every mech when she’s told to behave. He already feels the helmache forming.

The familiar sound of the ground bridge forming gathers attention and as Optimus moves past the others to get to their energon storage, Bee grabs hold of Smokescreen to keep him from rushing through the bridge. He chirps at him, optics trained on the other mech with a certain intensity. Smokescreen seems to take the hint, barely, staying still long enough for the Prime to return with the energon cubes.

“This really is a stray cat scenario.” Miko mutters to the other two and Jack simply shakes his head while Raf offers a slight uneasy smile.

“Please, be careful.” Optimus sighs and Smokescreen just grins.

“Relax, when are we not careful?”

Bee chirps in reminder and Smokescreen’s expression switches to a slight pout, “That doesn’t count, that wasn’t my fault.”

Optimus shakes his head and waves them along, “Go on, we’ll be right behind you.”

A nod from Bee is enough confirmation, the scout putting the two cubes into his subspace before he starts towards the ground bridge, Smokescreen following close behind.

The desert is unforgiving, heatwaves distorting the air. Sand clings to their plating, and soon, their cooling fans whir to life. The sand shifts under their pedes and Smokescreen hops around for a second when it gets into his hinges, shaking his leg. Bee nudges him gently as they start towards the old mine. It’s quiet, the scout’s audials not picking up anything other than the soft whispers of the wind.

The sun is at the height of the day, rays of light barreling down on the sand and metal frames.

Hidden behind a rock face about sixty or so meters away, the two stay tucked behind. Bee takes up most of the watch, optics locked on the old mine. The sand surrounding it gives off low waves of heat while the sandstone looks to be sizzling from the distance they’re at. The shade from the opening of the mine looks inviting, and the thought of being in the much cooler area makes Bee flick his door wings.

“This is boring as Pit, when’s the fun gonna start?” Bee takes a moment to side eye Smokescreen, giving a disapproving chirp. “Hey, I know you’re bored too, but are we seriously just gonna wait for Screamer to show up?”

‘What other choice do we have?’ Bee chirps back, his door wings drooping behind him as the disapproval laces the undertone of his words.

The mech opens his intake to retort when Bee spots movement. He immediately waves at Smokescreen to be quiet, zooming his optics in.

A flicker of blue lights appear in the shadows followed by a shriek as a scraplet scrambles out from the mine. The scout winces, the sound agitating his audials and causing his plating to shudder along his protoform, the sight of the unruly creature is enough to make him want to head back already but he knows Ratchet won’t allow them to return seekerless. He watches it struggle to gain traction in the sand, limbs flailing desperately only to slip and struggle upwards again. So focused on the scraplet he doesn’t notice the appearance of red flickering in the shadows behind it.

Then, almost out of a horror movie, something leaps from the shadows. Sand kicks up in a flurry and the sickening crunch of metal and wet squelch of energon and other internal liquids makes the Bee’s fuel tank churn. It’s hard to tell what exactly he’s looking at, a silhouette in the dust as it devours the scraplet.

It’s then, Bee realizes what’s happening, the fact that he’s looking at Starscream. The seeker’s usual bright colors are dulled; blue, red, and white turned to a slightly grayed tone that look almost black in the cloud of dust. It’s a sign he isn’t doing good, Bee knows that at the very least, though he can’t say eating a scraplet is a sign of good health either.

He watches as Starscream eagerly dispatches the little creature, gulping down its insides and frame with frantic swallows. Bee can hardly get a proper look at his face due to him being hunched over like he is but he does see his wings, raised in an uncomfortable position. They twitch, raising and dropping periodically before stopping when they reach their full peak upwards. It’s then the seeker raises up, body leaning forward and hunched over like he’s in pain. The seeker’s optics lift to the sky and he drops back down, digits digging into the sandy ground before his servos spread out forward underneath him. Wings fan out, twitching rapidly before he settles down into the sand, legs folding under him as sits back on his haunches, and scans his surroundings.

Bee can’t help but notice the expression on the seeker’s face, wide optics and almost frantic. He looks terrified, then suddenly, calm. The seeker’s wings relax and he takes another look around before a sound clicks in Bee’s audials. It’s quiet, nearly silent but he hears it so clearly. A chirp, a soft little chirp. He’s not sure where it’s come from but then he hears another follow, this time louder and horribly worse sounding.

Starscream chirped. Starscream chirped.

Starscream, the Decepticon SIC and Air Commander, the war criminal, chirped.

But, that first didn’t seem like it came from the seeker.

Bee thinks his processor is malfunctioning.

.:Bee, how are things over there?:.

Bee startles at the comm and almost sends back a string of nonsense.

.:We have sights on him, Optimus. He um, just ate a scraplet and right now he’s just…:.

Bee takes a moment to look at the seeker whose wings are fanned out, soaking up the sun by the looks of things. It appears in his moment of distraction the seeker had taken to settling further into the sand, moving his wings to purposely bury the tips into the sand.

.:He’s what?:.

.:He’s sunbathing.:.

There’s a moment of silence.

.:Sunbathing?:.

.:That’s what it looks like.:.

.:I see.. proceed with caution then.:.

Bee lets the comm flick out, optics zoning back onto Starscream. The seeker’s wings are completely outstretched still but now they seem to be semi-buried as the seeker shifts them further into the sand. Perhaps he is just enjoying the sun and the warmth of the sand under his frame. The scout finds himself almost not wanting to ruin the seeker’s good moment, after all, he’s never seen the seeker express anything other than resentment or cowardice. It’s strange, and he almost swears he can feel the calm from Starscream’s EM field from where he hides.

Suddenly, it all drops and Starscream’s helm snaps in their direction. Wings snap back tight against his back and he sees the seeker slowly stand, shaking the sand from his frame.They flick back out in rapid succession, jittery yet calculated movements. Bee ducks his helm, deciding it would be best to not get caught. “Did he see you?” Smokescreen mutters quietly only to jump when Bumblebee slaps a servo over his intake.

Nothing happens. Not for a moment at least.

And then they hear a shriek, a shrill noise that makes both of them cringe. No doubt it came from Starscream with the way it cut out violently and snapped together. It grates the scout’s audials in an uncomfortably familiar way. They wait in silence for a few quiet moments before Bee peaks back over the rocky hide and his optics land on nothing.

The only remains are the splatter of energon against the sand.

‘He’s gone.’ He looks to Smokescreen who peaks over the rockface himself, watching him lift an optic ridge.

“Well. That’s not ominous at all…” Smokescreen grimaces, “You think he went inside?”

‘I don’t see anything saying otherwise.’ Bee responds quietly, carefully moving to step out from behind the rocky cropping. The sand shifts under his pedes as he approaches the mine, Smokescreen on his left. As they approach, they see evidence of Starscream’s scamper back inside, dips in the sand and a small trail of energon leading inside. It’s unnerving, neigh almost horrific to stare down at and he can’t help but regret watching all those horror movies.

.:Bumblebee.:.

The scout pauses his examination and his inner crisis. .:Yes Optimus?:.

.:There is a Decepticon air fleet headed towards your location, don’t be seen.:.

.:Gotcha.:.

‘There’s an air fleet nearby, let’s head in.’ The scout takes his first steps into the shade of the mine, momentarily enjoying the cool that washes over him. It’s a minimal enjoyment, he decides, something to calm his circuits before slag hits the rotors.

“Great idea, a fleet outside and a very weird Decepticon inside.” Smokescreen mutters and Bee shoots him a look.

Their descent into the mine is silent, save for the soft crunch of sand beneath their pedes and the occasional distant drip of water echoing through the tunnels. The air is thick with dust, disturbed by their movements, and each step forward sends tiny pebbles skittering down unseen slopes. Every so often, a loose rock tumbles from the jagged walls, the sound sharp and sudden in the stillness, making both bots tense instinctively. Bee’s wings twitch in response, the subtle motion betraying his unease. Though he tries to remain focused, his sensory receptors are on high alert, scanning the darkness for any sign of movement. The deeper they go, the heavier the silence feels, pressing in on them like the mine itself is watching, waiting.

The subtle glow from their optics is the only light they have so every move is careful. Even the gentle twitch of door wings.

“So uh, what do we do if Starscream wants to, you know, get all fighty?”

‘He’s a patient so our goal would be to detain him without injury.’

“And Ratchet suspects we do that, how?”

‘I’m not sure yet.’ Bee answers with a few soft clicks. Then again, that’s if they can even find the seeker. The mine is dark, dim enough that his optics can barely tell the difference of forward and back, almost as though he’s been shrouded in a puddle of tar. The inky blackness almost seems to be moving in front of him even, shifting, swaying behind corners or rippling against the walls.

It gets tighter as the two delve deeper, forcing their frames together. It’s an uncomfortable situation but it’s something Bee is willing to endure for the sake of another mech- even if that mech is Starscream. Smokescreen disagrees however, choosing to stay back when it gets too uncomfortable for him.

So Bee was now on his own, pushing further into the mine.

Crack!

Oh, Primus, please let that be the seeker.

Bumblebee’s optics dart through the darkness, scanning his surroundings. Then, he sees it, a pair of bright red optics locked onto his own, a helm cocked slightly to the side.

"Autobot."

Starscream’s voice is hoarse, edged with suspicion, grating against Bee’s audials like rusted metal.

‘Starscream… you don’t look too good,’ Bee remarks cautiously.

The seeker’s optics narrow. He steps into a slow, deliberate semi-circle around the scout, gaze sharp and unreadable. "Since when does my appearance concern you?"

‘It starts to matter when you’re dulling out and eating planes and scraplets.’

Starscream’s wings twitch. His glare sharpens. "It is normal for seekers to consume other Cybertronian lifeforms," he snaps.

Good, Bee thinks. There’s something useful. But he treads carefully.

‘Is it normal to eat planes?’

Starscream’s intake parts for a retort then snaps shut. A flicker of hesitation. Bee notices his extended claws and instinctively raises his servos, a silent gesture of peace.

‘I’m not here to hurt you.’

"I doubt it," Starscream growls, voice garbled from disuse. "Come to take me prisoner? If so, you’re wasting your time. I haven’t been in contact with the Decepticons in ages. I know nothing."

‘You’re injured.’

Starscream freezes. In the dim light, Bee watches his expression shift, surprise, then fury, then something unreadable.

‘We want to help.’

"Help?" Starscream mutters, stepping forward. Bee instinctively takes a step back, which seems to satisfy the seeker. "An Autobot offering me help? I must be losing my processor." His wings twitch high, bristling. "Give me one good reason I shouldn’t slice you open from intake to exhaust pipe."

‘We’re offering you safety.’

Starscream scoffs. "I know that already." Another step forward, his talon taps against Bee’s chassis with unsettling precision. "How do I know you won’t use my injury against me? I can think of several Autobots who’d love my helm on a pike."

Bee studies him carefully. The tension in his frame. The way his wings flare despite the tight confines of the mine. There’s something more, something Starscream is hiding. But what?

‘If we tried anything, Ratchet would beat our afts and send us straight to the All Spark,’ Bee finally says.

Starscream considers him, optics dimming slightly. Then, with a garbled noise, half a sigh, half a groan, he steps back. "Fine… fine! I’ll allow this."

Bee barely hides his surprise. ‘You will?’ His door wings flick upward before he can stop them.

"Oh yes, doctor’s orders," Starscream drawls, wings falling back dramatically as he presses the back of his servo to his helm. He turns with an exaggerated sway of his frame. "But of course, I’ll need to gather my belongings first."

Bee narrows his optics, unease curling in his spark. ‘How long will that take? We need to move before that air fleet detects our signatures.’

Starscream freezes mid-step. His wings suddenly hike upright, optics flashing. He whirls back to Bee, voice sharp, "There’s an air fleet outside?!"

Bee instinctively shifts back as Starscream’s frame tenses, his optics darting frantically. His wings tremble, an erratic, involuntary movement that makes Bee’s plating prickle. Then, suddenly, his engine snarls deep, guttural, like it’s backfiring.

‘They didn’t see us!’ Bee rushes to reassure him. ‘I promise, we’ve been completely undetected.’

Too late.

Starscream’s talons are suddenly right there, dangerously close to Bee’s throat.

"You’d better hope so," the seeker snarls, EM field radiating fury. "Because if they did, I’ll send you to the All Spark myself—doctors inessential." He hisses something in a language Bee doesn’t understand, wings trembling with barely restrained aggression. "Get. Out."

‘But we had an agreement..!’

"Agreement or not!" Starscream’s sneer is razor-sharp, thrusters digging into the ground. His plating bristles, every instinct screaming hostility. "You’ve been in this war long enough to know an air fleet doesn’t need to see you to know you’re there."

‘They aren’t Seekers.’

Starscream’s glare sharpens, his claws pressing against Bee’s chassis. His voice drops, low and dangerous.

"They don’t have to be."

"Ever wonder why Starscream’s quarters are locked from the inside?"

Steve pauses, glancing down at the Vehicon beside him. The question seems to come out of nowhere, but his optics soon settle on the old, untouched door. It hasn’t been opened in years, the lock remains firmly in place, and Soundwave has never granted anyone access, let alone a glimpse inside.

"The same reason any mech would lock their door," he replies, his tone matter-of-fact. "Privacy, most likely."

The Vehicon doesn’t look convinced. A grimace flickers across their face. "Yeah… privacy."

Before Steve can say anything more, a sharp voice cuts through the air. "What are you two standing around for? There’s work to be done!"

Both bots jerk into motion as another figure strides toward them, denta bared and wings raised high in agitation.

"Get out of here!"

It doesn’t take a second warning, Dreadwing’s snarling engine is enough to send them scurrying. As the new Air Commander settles into place, a low exhale from nearby vents draws his attention.

With a flick of his optics, he turns. "What now, Ramjet?"

“You shouldn’t be so hard on them.” The trine leader snipes, “It’s a bad image.”

“Well, to be fair they shouldn’t be dawdling around.” Thrust challenges earning a look of ire from Ramjet.

Dreadwing glowers at the three, wings lowering before they flicker back up to their usual position. “They are upset about Starscream, I do not expect their feelings to dwindle.”

“We miss Starscream too… it’s weird, not having a Winglord.” Dirge mumbles, servos fiddling with Ramjet’s shoulder plating, claws gently scratching off some gunk.

Dreadwing snorts something incoherent before responding, “Something tells me Starscream is still alive.”

“And something tells me he’s planning something, something big maybe.” Ramjet adds, gently placing a servo over Dirge’s arm. “He up and left for a reason, we know for a fact he wouldn’t just abandon us.”

“I hate the glitch but Ram’s got a point, Screamer wouldn’t up and leave without a reason. Makes ya wonder.” Thrust’s tone indicates he’s not happy to agree as he swats at Dirge for attempting to preen him, hissing something in a quiet ‘not now’ tone.

Dreadwing eyes the coneheads with a subtle hint of agreement as he lowers his wings and bows his helm in their direction, “You have a point, but even then, if he is alive there’s no saying he’s still on Earth.” The Air Commander pauses, optics trailing towards Starscream’s old quarters. “But keep an optic online, perhaps we’ll catch sight of him.”