Lights
"Come with me."
The voice is familiar, but its tone is not.
Skyfire looks up and sees Starscream silhouetted against the frame of the bare, icy hole he calls his quarters. The Seeker is staring pointedly at him, his gaze sharp and his voice coloured with the harsh bark of an officer accustomed to obedience - a sound Skyfire is not used to hearing.
The shuttle shifts to move, some dormant, timid instinct stirring, then hesitates when he sees that Starscream has already turned expectantly away. The Seeker is halfway through the icy underground tunnels before Skyfire can even step out of his room, and the shuttle has to run to catchup.
In contrast to the sullen, if somewhat bitter mech of his memories, the Seeker moves now like a leader. His strides are brisk, and he carries about him an air of expectant authority, practiced over the millennials which Skyfire has missed.
Everything is different.
Starscream never did tell him exactly how long he was offline for, but Skyfire could feel the weight of the lost vorns weighing heavily upon him regardless. His friend is changed. As he walks, Starscream does not speak, does not stop to look back at him, but when he does, every crimson gaze is a jarring reminder that things are no longer the way they once were.
"Hurry up! We don't have all orn."
Skyfire starts, dips his helm, and hurries a little faster under the scorching gaze of two unfamiliar purple insignias.
Starscream has his arms folded over his cockpit. He is standing close to the exit of their quarters, and under his blazing glare Skyfire sees a type of irritation he at least recognises. "You're too slow," the Seeker chides when the shuttle finally reaches him. "We might miss it if you take any longer."
The shuttle opens his mouth to query, but Starscream has already climbed above the ground and is out of sight before he can utter anything. Bemused, the scientist can only follow suit.
There is no sun outside. A night sky has blanketed the snowy land, leaving only darkness and the odd twinkle of a distant star. Starscream's red optics light up a patch of bloody red in the dim. He seats himself comfortably in the snow, a little way from the entrance to the temporary Decepticon headquarters, and waves Skyfire over to join him once the shuttle emerges.
"What are we -?" Skyfire tries, again.
"Wait." Starscream interrupts him – no explanation, as always – and points into the inky darkness. "Watch. And don't switch your night vision on."
The shuttle frowns in confusion, and turns his gaze back into the blank night.
For a short while, there is silence, deafening in its emptiness though not entirely uncomfortable. The weather is pleasantly peaceful now, with no sign of the harsh winds which had dominated the skies when they had been –
Skyfire shakes his helm.
That was a long time ago.
To his side, Starscream is as still as the air about him, his crimson optics fixed intently into the sky. Then abruptly, his wings twitch and he hisses: "Look!"
Skyfire does. At first, there is nothing. Then, from the corner of his optics, he catches a flicker of colour. He turns his helm.
Another flicker. Larger. A silver slither of light that snakes its way across the night. It twists and flexes for just a moment, then vanishes. Then there comes another, tinged with green. Then another, darker blue. Then another, royal purple. And another. And another.
And suddenly, the air is bursting with these imperceptibly mystical lights, and the sky explodes into a writhing shimmer of moving colours. Pinks, purples, shades of golden green and tearful blue. Red like the light of Starscream's optics. They twist and turn as though alive, seeping through the canvas of darkness as though conscious of the art they are painting. Skyfire has never witnessed anything like it.
"Starscream," he finds himself whispering, so breathless in wonder he could barely find the words he needs, "it's beautiful."
The Seeker does not respond, but when Skyfire turns his helm, he sees his old friend's face illuminated with the same wonder and amazement. His optics follow every strand of light through the sky, and his wings fan slowly back and forth, relaxed and oddly serene.
A few breems later, the lights fade and darkness creeps back across the lands. Skyfire watches with bated breath until there is nothing left to marvel, and only until he is certain that the spectacle is over does he allow himself to cycle, as though doing so before would have frightened away the silent spectres.
"What was that?" He asks, finally, vocaliser quiet with wonder and disbelief.
"The 'Northern Lights'," the Seeker answers, his optics still turned to the skies. "It is a natural phenomenon that occurs when the solar winds of this system's sun are caught in the magnetic field of this planet."
Skyfire nods. Hearing the scientist within the Seeker speak is a close comfort he did not think he would hear anytime soon. "Did you come up with this… ah, interesting name?" He presses, unable to hide the small smile twitching on his lips.
"As if I would come up with something so unoriginal," Starscream scoffs, looking offended at the very suggestion. "No. It's the name given to it by the loc-"
He stops shortly, abruptly, and Skyfire sees the Decepticon's optics blazing without being able to read the implication behind it.
Curious, the shuttle opens his mouth, but Starscream does not give him the chance to speak. Instead, the Seeker pulls himself suddenly up to his pedes and shakes the snow off himself with his wings pulled taut. "We've been out here long enough," he states, flatly and without emotion. "Let's go."
"But Starsc– "
"No 'buts'," the Seeker snaps, and the illusion shatters before Skyfire's very optics. The Decepticon is tense, aggravated, and his voice grates painfully. "We are leaving. That is an order."
The last word lingers threateningly in the air, as alien as the world around them, but Skyfire does not move. He stares into Starscream, blue optics against red, seeking just a flicker of that old light.
"Starscream. Please. Let me stay out here a little longer."
He does not want to go 'back'. Not yet. 'Back' would be returning to the Decepticons, to the dark, dingy underground hole that was their base, with raucous loud-mouthed mechs for company and the reality of a war he is not part of. 'Back' no longer meant Cybertron. 'Back' no longer meant home.
That is Starscream's reality. It is not yet his.
He looks for his old friend, for one last request. Just a little longer. Just another moment.
The Seeker is still again, like a wary beast, but he must see something in Skyfire's expression, because gradually, his wings relax. After a while, the sharpness in his glare melts away, and he eases his stance with a slow shake of the helm.
"I won't thaw you out next time if you freeze," he mutters, a hint of a smirk ghosting over his features.
And to Skyfire's immense surprise, there is no further protest. Starscream, Second-in-Command to the Decepticon Empire, Air Commander of the Elite Seeker division, allows him, Skyfire, that one small moment, and settles quietly in the snow by the shuttle's side. A little closer.
And in the darkness, there are no factions, weapons, enemies, or war - only two scientists, two friends, gazing peacefully together into the stars above.