Sky-Hunger.
Summary: Sam finds an unexpected side-effect from his time in Starscream's body causing him trouble. How can a wingless human assuage the sky-hunger? Sequel to "Further Complications"
Rating: M for safety and occasional four-letter cussing
Disclaimer: Property of Hasbro and Dreamworks/Paramount, not me.
Sky-Hunger.
Prologue.
It was ten days since Sam had gotten back into his own body, it was a Friday, and school was ending for the week. All his assignments had been completed, his grades were looking good, and Trent had not been anywhere near him: it seemed that the beating Starscream had given him was making him think twice about choosing Sam as the object of his frustrations. He and Miles were planning on hanging around the town as they always did on a Saturday, relaxing and drinking fizzy drinks while they cast an eye over the local talent. All in all, the week could not have gone any better.
'So why' wondered Sam 'am I feeling like shit?'
He knew the reason, of course, was the disturbed nights he'd been
having, the vivid dreams he'd been having. Not that the dreams themselves were unpleasant, no, they were, on the contrary, very nice dreams that left him breathless with joy once he woke. It was when he realised he was awake, and realised that the dreams were the only way he could soar in the sky under his own power now that he was once again human, that the pain of loss set in.
He and Miles got in Miles' junker – Bumblebee had duties at the Autobot base that day so Sam was hitching a lift home with Miles – and threw their book bags in the back seat. Sam seemed a bit down, Miles thought, had been all week, but today was the worst. He decided it would be best if he left Sam to brood, he figured that with everything that had been going on in Sam's life recently, going back to school must be pretty anti-climactic. Miles himself was looking forwards to Sunday, for once again Starscream had invited him to the Decepticon base, and Miles was hoping Starscream would fly with him again.
It seemed that Starscream's fondness for the eager young human had not waned despite being back in his own body and keeping company with his own kind. He had been invited over the Sunday previously too, although there had been a rather nasty moment when the big tank – Wreckage, Miles thought he was called – decided to have some fun menacing the squishy who had driven so boldly into their Base. It was fortunate for Miles – but unfortunate for Wreckage – that Starscream had come out to greet Miles from the building directly behind Wreckage. Luckily, Dr Syn had been able to save the sight in Wreckage's left optic after he'd staggered into the medbay.
Sam thanked Miles once they got home, grabbed his books from the junker's back seat, and gone in to greet his parents. He filled in the hours between then and bedtime by eating a meal and watching some TV with his folks, doing some schoolwork in Bumblebee, and doing his chores. When he got up to his room, he pushed some clutter off his desk, put his bag on the surface, and got ready for bed. He looked at his bed with revulsion, not looking forwards to the disturbed might he knew he was bound to have. Sighing, he got into the bed and let the exhaustion within him take him straight into a deep sleep.
A few hours later, Sam woke and sat in bed, remembering the dreams of flying, the sensation of soaring through the air, of dancing in the sunlight and daring to ride the front of a storm. He recalled the exhilaration of unfettered, self-powered flight, the freedom of the open sky, the thrill of travelling at three times the speed of sound.
Then he remembered that he was human, and unless something similar to the incident that had led to him experiencing flight in the first place happened, he was unlikely to ever experience it again outside of his dreams.
His stomach cramped up and he felt sick and shaky. He curled up on his bed as his skin began to get slick with sweat. The longing, the ache rose inside him, and he grabbed his pillow and pushed it against his face to muffle the sounds as the first sob escaped from him. Sam was not normally given to crying, but when confronted with this gnawing, painful, aching loss, he was powerless to do anything else.
He stayed like this for about an hour, before exhaustion took him back off into a sleep which was neither peaceful nor restful.
Three hours later he woke again, and once again he wept for what he had never realised he'd needed until he'd gained and then lost it.