Brotherhood of Sighs

First Transfiction, written on a whim. G1 universe, Transformers owned by Hasbro, yadda yadda yadda. Basic summary: Yes, Starscream is a jerk. But it doesn't mean he can't empathize.

It was the first time in months he'd heard jet engines without twitching. He just didn't care anymore.

He did give a tiny twitch when the null ray pressed into the back of his neck, but it was a physical response more than his nervous jump. Something Starscream noticed right away.

"If this is supposed to be a trap, Prime chose perfectly helpless-looking bait." The seeker strode to the front of Red Alert, taking in his general posture and unfocused optics with a clinical eye. "Entertain me and I might let you walk away from this with a working set of legs."

Red Alert couldn't bring himself to look away from the patch of sand in front of him. If he had been in a calmer state of mind (it was a slim chance, but still possible), he might have noticed the delicate grooves in the sand from a recent storm, the faint scattering of delicate pebbles and grass, or even the footprints the increasingly nervous Starscream in the aforementioned sand. He, however, had not come for the scenery. He came because it was a dead area in his security cameras, a blind spot he had made within the past week to hide from the other Autobots when he was feeling particularly...

Was there a word he could assign to it? Cold? Empty? Heavy? Thick? Thick seemed to work at this particular moment. All his inner mechanisms felt like they'd been melted into a semi-solid ore in his torso, his extremities feeling somewhat numb. Most of what he felt was physical now; the few emotions he did feel were stuffed into the back of his processor so well he could probably take on Prowl in a not-staring competition and win.

That would have made him chuckle a little normally. Would've made Inferno laugh so hard he would have emptied his tanks-

Red Alert flinched, and Starscream lowered his arm. Red Alert looked up just enough to see the seeker's knees; the tension visibly left them. The legs approached him and joined him on his rock, throwing an arm around Red Alert's shoulders. That earned a twitch, but the instinctive panic was quickly drowned out by the thick feeling; his eyes returned to the ground.

"Once again, Red Alert, you remind me of myself." Starscream had, without thinking, chosen to sit on the side of Red Alert with the rocket launcher. He gently pushed it out of the way to look at the Lamborghini's face. "A trait I admire in an Autobot, I assure you. Tell me, how long has this been going on?"

"Three decacycles," Red responded without thinking.

Starscream only squeezed him again. "Anything in particular happen?"

"Inferno..."

Starscream had to think a moment. "Red one with the..." The embarrassment rolled out of his mouth as he spoke it. "... things on the side of his neck-guard, correct?"

A nod this time.

"What did he do to you?" Starscream's arm tensed a little, not in a squeeze. Red's spark sent a warm flush of energy up his energon siphon. What tha- from Starscream? No.

"N-nothing... nothing, I just... want... more."

It was more than he'd said to Prowl, Jazz, the twins, Optimus, Ratchet, and Inferno himself in weeks. Red Alert shifted his arm uncomfortably; either he had leaned or been pulled, but he was now putting a lot of weight on Starscream. The jet gave a soft sigh and stroked Red's wheel, earning another jerk and, quickly, and even heavier lean on his frame. "As in often the case with the more intelligent Transformers such as ourselves, Red Alert, we thinkers can be prone to fits of melancholy.

The jet turned a little and pushed Red Alert's torso towards him, finally managing a degree of eye contact with the somber car. "Dim-witted fighters like Megatron and the fire truck don't understand that our gifts come with consequences. We can think circles around most of our peers, and what does it get us? Isolation and fits of crippling depression."
"... you too?"

"Long ago, Red Alert. When I lost Skyfire." There was a barely noticeable pause before Starscream said, "The first time. I know exactly how you feel."

The phrase brought back bad memories, mostly of the guilt, shame, and embarrassment afterwards. The time spent with Starscream when his logic chips were blown actually wasn't that unpleasant. Despite his outward panic, inside Red Alert was giggling like a sparkling who'd found a friend to make mischief with. Plotting against his supposed betrayers, using tricks only he knew, skirting on the edge of danger, and having a partner to do it with...

Red Alert smiled.

The resulting grin on Starscream would have split the average face in half. Sure, the grin was half-devious, it always was, but it was a smile nonetheless. "There we go. Good Red Alert."

With one hand in his and the other on Red's back, Starscream lifted the security director to his feet and gave him a solid thump. "You will have to go back soon, you realize? I'm making your helmet spark."

"You are?" Red touched his fingers to his sensory nodules; they were hot to the touch, and his thumb began prickling with static electricity. "I-I-I didn't feel it."

"Depression tends to dull your sense of touch." Starscream gently pulled his cockpit sideways and pulled a container out of subspace. "Here. This is the medication I took when I was suffering from depression. Take two with low-grade energon, and it has to be low-grade or your tanks will expel it, one way or the other."

Red Alert only said at the tiny bottle, eyes scanning over the various prescription numbers and other little medical things only Ratchet could understand. "B-but i-isn't that-"

"Yes, taking another mech's medication is extremely dangerous and shouldn't be done." Starscream's eyebrows furrowed in annoyance, and his voice went straight into teacher mode (Red Alert had gone into teacher mode once while he was out driving, he knew the sensation well). "Especially that medication. It's specially formulated for seekers... not to mention it's several thousand vorns old. You're supposed to take it to the medic to have him check to see if it's poison. And then the medic is supposed to ask why I gave you anti-depressants, you tell him why, he puts you on your own anti-depressants and makes you have a heart-to-heart talk with the fire truck."

Red Alert was speechless. For a while, at least.

"Th-this isn't... really poison... is it?"

The smile softened. "No. I thought about it, to preserve my reputation." Starscream pulled out another bottle, shaped different and missing the prescription tags. "But I like you. You remind me of myself, and I like that. I couldn't risk you actually trying to taking the medication."

Red's spark warmed up his chest again. He clutched the tiny medicine bottle and cycled a deep breath before smiling again. "Thank you, Starscream."

He pulled the jet into a hug; it was Starscream's turn to flinch. He kept his arms stiffly up and his back stiff. Red Alert just buried his nose in Starscream's shoulder vent and patted a wing until he was content.

The hug broke, and Starscream shot into full view of the closest security camera before making his way back to the Decepticon base. As expected, a small group of Autobots came to the scene wielding their guns within a few seconds. Red Alert waited for them patiently and let himself be escorted back inside.

They were antidepressants. The ones Ratchet prescribed didn't work as well as Inferno's crushing hugs.

Ratchet didn't have the heart to tell him that Starscream's pills were only a few months old.

Brotherhood of the Depressed People Who Understand What You're Going Through just wasn't as catchy of a title.